Failure after failure, few of Beelzebub’s experiments ever made it past the final tests, things like independent thought, movement, and speech. Most creations lacked even the basic fundamentals of mortal life: too dim-witted, too immobile. The more unfortunate ones were kept alive, forced to linger as Beelzebub studied where he had gone wrong.

Naturally, the larger experiments were suspended in towering tubes filled with fluid, while the smaller ones were crammed into jars or repurposed fish tanks. Hardly dignified conditions, but Beelzebub made do. At the moment, though, his focus was entirely on a new creation.

Its body was nearly identical to that of a mortal man, a perfect replica, save for the unnatural color of its hair. A minor flaw. One that could be corrected easily enough. He’d dealt with worse.

Beelzebub stepped closer to the towering capsule, eyes locked on the figure inside, studying every twitch, every subtle movement. He stood in silent thought, weighing the risks of releasing it.

After a long pause, he made up his mind. Crossing to a nearby control panel cluttered with levers and buttons, he extended a hand and pressed one. The liquid began to drain.

The experiment slumped forward, resting limply against the inner wall of the capsule. Beelzebub pulled a lever. With a sharp hiss, the container cracked open.

Beelzebub stepped closer to the now freed experiment. He crouched down and, with his pen, gave its head a curious poke. "Get up, you're no use to me if you're essentially dead."