Chapter Text
Lucifer was pacing.
Dressed for the day far too early, trapped in an overthinking spiral, and pacing.
Where did he go wrong?
Was it the movie? Was it ending the card game on a round he was clearly going to lose? Was it even before that, making card games a regular thing? He knew Alastor was a sore loser, but they were pretty dead even on wins and losses. Was it fighting with him? Antagonizing him? Dancing with him?
Maybe it was all a series of bad decisions that led him to his worst yet: standing outside Alastor's door at four in the morning, prepared to knock.
Lucifer stopped pacing and sized up the door, as if it were an adversary staring back at him. He clenched his fist. Unclenched it. Then did it again.
"I'm just going to do it," he decided firmly.
He took two steps forward—and immediately pivoted away again with a groan.
"This is stupid! It's been, what, two hours? Whatever was bothering him isn't going to magically resolve itself!" He stopped in his tracks as he considered the possibility, but just as quickly shook the thought away and resumed pacing. "He doesn't want to see you—he doesn't even like you. He needs space. Definitely. Probably. Maybe... not?"
Lucifer glanced at the door again. It held his gaze challengingly with its nonexistent eyes, stubbornly remaining closed. He clapped his hands over his face and dragged them slowly down his cheeks.
"Come on, Lucifer," he muttered. "You didn't walk all the way down the hall for nothing."
With a deep breath, he squared his shoulders and marched towards the door, raising his fist.
The door opened.
Alastor stared him down, the faint hint of irritation slipping through his ever-present smile.
Lucifer stared, hand still suspended in the air, eyes round. He hadn't actually thought about what he would say.
"The walls aren't particularly thin, Your Majesty," Alastor drawled, the smallest edge of annoyance present between the lines, "but when you're wearing the carpet threads bare and mumbling nonsense, it becomes rather hard not to notice."
Lucifer winced, then shoved his fist behind his back. "Did I do something wrong?" he blurted out, recovering from his sudden bout of speechlessness.
Alastor arched a brow. "Within a specific time frame, or throughout your existence? Either way, I imagine the list would be... impressively long."
"Har, har," Lucifer mock-laughed, but he was too antsy to be offended. He ran his fingers through his hair, glad he left his hat behind. "Can we just—can we just talk for a second?"
Before Alastor could answer, Lucifer slipped past him into the room, barely registering the sharp feedback screech of protest.
"I just want to clear up what happened," Lucifer said quickly, words tumbling over one another as he took up pacing again. "Because if I did something wrong—"
The door slammed shut.
Lucifer jumped, looking back as Alastor rounded on him, radio dials ticking visibly in his eyes.
"You're doing something wrong right now," Alastor snapped. "I don't recall inviting you inside!"
Lucifer opened his mouth to retort, but after a moment of reflection, closed it again.
"...Okay," he conceded. "Fair. But if I stayed out in the hallway, you would've just shut me—"
A sudden wave of humidity rolled over his skin as the stench of warm mud and sweet rot flooded his senses. Glancing at the wall, he found an open bayou where it had once been tucked away neatly behind a door. Jagged planks framed the view of murky water and looming cypress trees, telling him exactly what had happened. How did he not notice it last time?
Lucifer extended his arms, gesturing at it in disbelief. "Did you really—? I made that look so nice!"
Alastor glowered in response, and Lucifer bit his tongue, putting his hands up in surrender.
"Nevermind. It doesn't matter." Lucifer gripped the bridge of his nose, letting out a long, frustrated sigh. "Can you just... explain to me what happened back there? Because if it was me, I need to know. I get that we're not friends or whatever—Hell, this might even be entertaining for you! But it's going to be on my mind for weeks if you don't tell me, and I'm going to make it your problem every chance I get by asking—"
"Have you considered the possibility I simply didn't like the movie?" Alastor offered flatly, as though the answer were obvious.
Lucifer let out a dry laugh, running his fingers through his hair again. "You can not like it, Bambi, but that doesn't explain why you ran away."
Alastor tensed. For a fraction of a second, his expression flickered with some sharp, almost painful emotion, but it was gone before Lucifer could name it. His lip curled. "I didn't run away."
Before Lucifer could reply, shadows gathered at Alastor's feet and whisked him away.
"Son of a--"
Lucifer narrowed his eyes, locking onto the familiar energy signature of Alastor's magic. With a muttered curse, he portaled to Alastor's location, emerging in the lobby.
Alastor glanced back, growling in irritation when he realized Lucifer had followed. He lengthened his stride.
"You're running away right now!" Lucifer shouted, storming after him.
A loud crash echoed through the room.
"I said, give me a drink, asshole! Fuck off with this fuckin' bullshit!"
Lucifer's head snapped toward the sound. The voice was unmistakable.
Angel.
Alastor could wait.
Abandoning the conversation, he unfurled his wings and propelled himself towards the bar. Fear wormed its way into his brain. Lucifer hadn't seen Angel in over two days—had anyone?
Something was wrong.
A small group of nosy sinners, including Vixen, DeeDee, and a few Cannibals, blocked his view. He pushed through them, the pit in his stomach twisting tighter with each step, until he found himself face-to-face with Vaggie's spear. Her expression was stone, but her eyes widened at the sight of him.
"Sir," she breathed in relief.
Lucifer barely processed it. He spotted Niffty beside her, weilding an overlarge needle and helping block the crowd from pressing closer. He turned back to Vaggie, brows furrowed, voice tight. "What's going on?"
Her spear lowered slightly, weighed down by shame. "It's... Angel. Husk found him and..." She trailed off, looking anywhere but at him, her voice dropping. "We just thought he was at work."
Lucifer felt his heartbeat quicken.
His eyes flicked past her to Charlie and Cherri, standing side by side, mirrored expressions of concern. Charlie's eyes glimmered with tears; a pang of guilt hit him at the sight. Briefly resting his hand on Vaggie's shoulder, he slipped by her, gently brushing his daughter's back to reassure her he was there.
Charlie jumped at the touch, spinning around. When she saw him, her composure crumbled, and she threw her arms around his shoulders, trembling.
And then he saw Angel.
Every other thought in his head evaporated.
Angel's clothes were tattered, stained with blood and filth. Bruises and gashes bloomed across his skin in a meadow of black, blue, and scarlet. He held his lower left arm with the other, the limb swinging uselessly past the point of support. Around him, barstools lay flipped, splintered wood mixing with broken glass. His jaw was clenched, pupils blown wide, a black eye framing a look of indescribable fury as he glared at Husk behind the bar.
"If you give me another cup 'a water, I will fuckin' drown you in it!" Angel spat, coating each word with so much venom, Lucifer swore he could taste it. "Do you fuckin' understand?"
The hurt in Husk's eyes was evident, but he refused to back down. He let the uncharacteristic attack roll off him with a deep breath.
"Angel—"
"Doesn't sound like you're listenin', Whiskers! Ya know what?" Angel shoved the last barstool to the ground and clambered onto the bartop. "I'll get it my fuckin' self!"
"Angel, stop!" Husk lunged, but Angel's long arms snatched a bottle, jerking upwards. The bottle crashed into the crossbeam of the bar, shattering into jagged shards that rained down over both of them. A large piece caught Husk over the eye, and he hissed in pain as it sliced him.
"You bastard!" Angel shouted. "That's it!"
His retractable arms extended, two Tommy guns materializing in his grasp,
Charlie gasped. "Husk!"
"Angie!"
Charlie tore herself from Lucifer's embrace, but Cherri Bomb was quicker. She lunged forward, ripping the weapons from Angel's hands. Angel instinctively reached for them, but cried out in pain, recoiling to support his injured arm. In the same instance, Husk wrapped his arms around Angel, restraining him.
"Stop! You're hurtin' me!" Angel screamed, writhing in Husk's hold.
"I know." Husk's face contorted in sorrow and guilt. "I'm sorry. I know. But this is for your own good."
"Get off!" Angel's scream morphed into a sob. "Get the fuck off!"
Lucifer's breath caught. He looked to his daughter, disbelief clawing at him.
What happened? How could this happen? I'm supposed to be helping them. I'm supposed to be able to keep them safe. What did I do wrong?
"Charlie..." He struggled to form words. "What happened?"
Charlie's eyes were pools of guilt as she met his gaze. "I-I didn't want to overstep again. I knew... I knew Valentino was a monster, but I didn't think—I didn't think—!"
A sob wracked her body, and she collapsed against Lucifer's chest. "This is all my fault! He was miss-missing, and I didn't even look!"
Lucifer held her hesitantly, still reeling from the scene before him. Over her shoulder, he watched Cherri gently set the guns aside and approach Angel with her hands raised, showing she meant no harm.
"Angel, it's just me," she soothed. "You've had a rough night. Might've gone a little too hard, but that's okay. We'll let the high pass and settle down, yeah?"
For a moment, the blur in Angel's eyes cleared, replaced with steel. He clenched his jaw and spat at Cherri, hitting her cheek. She wiped it away, staring at him in disbelief. Angel returned her gaze, unmoved.
"Let. Me. Go." His lip quivered, and tears returned to his eyes. "Let me go."
He fell limp in Husk's hold as sobs shook his shoulders. His tone turned questioning, pleading. "Why can't he just let me go?"
At once, Lucifer realized he wasn't talking about Husk.
Crying, Angel sank into Husk's embrace. Realizing what he was trying to do, Husk loosened his grip, letting Angel fold in on himself, bringing his knees to his chest atop the bar as Husk held him steady. Lucifer's heart twisted at the sight.
Thank God Husk had gone out looking for him. No one else had. Not Charlie. Not Cherri. Not himself.
He had been so wrapped up in his own problems with the Sins that he hadn't even considered how serious Angel's disappearance could be—and Husk brought it up right in front of him. He should have been more aware, paying attention to odd behavior and extended absences. He'd heard about Angel's dangerous involvement with the porn Overlord, but he'd never given it much thought outside of chalking it up to sinners being awful in general. Now Angel was hurt, and he shared part of the blame.
The realization of how much he cared for his newfound friends hit Lucifer like a bolt of lightning, singing every nerve ending with guilt. Gently letting go of Charlie, he stepped toward the bar.
"Angel?" he tried.
Only a sob answered him. He swallowed.
"Angel Dust, I'm going to touch you, alright? Is that okay?
Angel's head snapped up, eyes blazing. "Don't fuckin' touch me! If you lay a hand on me, I swear I'll kill you!"
Lucifer shook his head. "Just your hand, Angel. Can I hold your hand for a second?"
Angel glared at him for a moment longer, but his face quickly fell back into despair as another sob rose in his throat. He smacked his hand against Lucifer's chest, burying his face into Husk's shoulder.
Lucifer took hold of Angel's hand and closed his eyes, channeling his energy. A golden glow shimmered from his palms, enveloping Angel as he willed the wounds to close, the bruises to fade, and his mind to clear.
Slowly, Angel's body relaxed. Cuts stitched shut, skin regained its normal color, and his tense expression finally softened. After a minute, the glow of magic dissipated, and Angel's eyes opened. For a brief moment, there was relief. Then his lip quivered, and tears welled up again.
He pressed himself further into Husk's embrace, clenching Lucifer's hand with a white-knuckled grip for support.
"I'm sorry," he cried. "I'm so sorry."
Cherri rushed forward, wrapping her arms around Angel's shoulders. "This is not your fault, Angel."
"You're safe now, kid," Husk promised softly. "We've got you."
Angel let go of Lucifer's hand and gripped Cherri's arm as he bawled. Lucifer stepped back, giving him space. His heart still twisted at the sight of Angel so broken, but there was nothing more he could do. Exhaling through his nose, he surveyed the damage.
"Don't worry about down here," he said, "I'll take care of it."
Lucifer glanced back to check on Charlie, relieved to see that Vaggie had come to her side. Both she and Niffty had managed to disperse the other sinners.
"Help him upstairs. He needs to rest."
Charlie sniffed. "Is he going to be okay?"
Lucifer's chest tightened. Angel was still sobbing against Husk, oblivious to the world around him, drowning in the emotional aftermath of his abuse.
"I can only heal physical wounds," he answered quietly, regret heavy in his voice.
He met Husk's gaze. The former Overlord nodded, scooping Angel up bridal style and heading towards the stairs. Lucifer watched the others follow. Niffty hesitated for a moment, eyeing the mess of debris on the ground, but when Lucifer shook his head, she skittered after the group.
With a sigh and a quick wave of his hand, the mess at the bar vanished. Stool legs screeched against the wood as they slid into place. It felt wrong to fix that damage so quickly, yet be unable to do anything more for Angel. Was he really all-powerful if he couldn't use his power where it really mattered?
He stayed by the bar, watching the others head upstairs. Part of him wanted to follow, to make sure his friend was okay. But he also knew he wasn't as close with Angel as the rest of them were. Angel needed to be around people he trusted. It wouldn't be fair for Lucifer to impose while his friend was so vulnerable.
From the corner of his eye, Lucifer saw a splash of red. He turned, finding Alastor staring after the others as well.
Lucifer had expected him to take advantage of the distraction and disappear, now that the King wasn't tailing him. Yet there he was.
His smile was tight, and he stared ahead with an unusual intensity. His ears twitched back and forth once, a sign of indecision Lucifer had come to recognize from their card nights. Then, he spun around and started walking towards the main doors.
Where is he going? Lucifer thought.
He cast one last glance at the group as they disappeared around the corner towards the elevators, then turned and followed Alastor out. Catching the door just before it swung closed, Lucifer jogged to catch up with him outside.
"What do you think you're doing?"
Alastor didn't slow or turn to acknowledge him. "My job."
"Then why are you walking away from the hotel?"
"Because the problem plaguing it lives at the Vee Tower."
"What?" Lucifer stopped dead in his tracks, jaw dropping. "Are you going after Valentino?!"
Alastor's stride never faltered. "I thought that was obvious."
Lucifer shook his head and hurried after him, staying close on his heels. "So what? You're just going to walk in there and kill one of the Pride Ring's most dangerous Overlords?"
Alastor scoffed. "Please. Valentino is anything but." He finally glanced back, eyes glinting. "Besides, I'm simply offering a deal."
"And if he refuses?"
"Then I will kill him." Alastor's tone was light, almost bored. "It'll be like squashing a bug."
"And what if he's not alone?"
"Numbers mean nothing to me."
Lucifer frowned. "And if Vox is there?"
The air seemed to drop a degree. Alastor stopped and turned so sharply that Lucifer nearly collided with him. Radio dials ticked in his eyes, and his voice crackled with static as he loomed over Lucifer.
"Then I will destroy him as well."
Lucifer crossed his arms. "Look, I haven't exactly been keeping up with Overlord politics, but even I know about your little showdown with that blockhead and subsequent seven-year disappearance."
A low snarl rumbled in Alastor's throat. "I'd watch your tongue, sire. You don't know every side of that story."
Lucifer barely knew either side; he only knew it happened. And the lack of details told him more than any rumor ever could. He didn't claim to know Alastor well, but he did know the type of things Alastor tended to hide: weaknesses.
But now was not the time to get into it.
"Fine," Lucifer said at last. "But either way, why risk it? Why do you suddenly care about Angel Dust?"
Alastor growled again, but the heat in his gaze died down. He straightened, turning away from Lucifer.
A beat passed.
"I don't," he said, glancing back over his shoulder.
He started walking again. Lucifer moved quickly, stepping into his path.
"Then why?"
Alastor's smile tightened. "I have very publicly tied myself to the Hazbin Hotel. I cannot allow one of its most prominent residents be openly associated with a rival Overlord." His eyes flashed. "It makes it seem as though I'm losing control."
The response sounded practiced, too perfectly rationalized to be true.
"That's it?" Lucifer pressed.
Alastor gritted his teeth. "That is all."
His gaze was steeled with conviction, but Lucifer couldn't bring himself to believe it.
Indecision. That's what Alastor was feeling back at the hotel; Lucifer was sure he recognized it. Someone so indecisive doesn't carry that sort of conviction. Whether he was trying to fool Lucifer or himself, Alastor was trying to fool someone.
But Lucifer couldn't place his motive. He wasn't sure if Alastor's intent was good or bad, and he was reluctant to trust Alastor to go it alone. At the same time, Lucifer found himself entirely onboard with the proposal; he'd love to see Valentino dead in a ditch right about then. Handling it himself, however, would probably have severe political consequences as the King of Hell. But if Alastor did it, it would just be another Overlord-on-Overlord skirmish, a routine grab for power.
Lucifer bit his cheek in contemplation and met Alastor's gaze with narrowed eyes.
"Alright," he conceded. "But I'm coming with you."
Alastor stiffened. "You will not," he hissed.
Lucifer raised a brow, looking him up and down. "You really can't stop me."
"I will not be known as a coward who enlisted the Devil himself to fight my battles for me!"
Lucifer rolled his eyes. "Relax. I won't pull anything unless you're on death's door, alright?"
Radio static crackled in the air as Alastor glared, lip curling. His shadow condensed at his feet and began to rise in an ominous smoke, just like it had during the first redemption activity Alastor had been forced into. The corners of Lucifer's mouth quirked up in amusement at the memory of the tantrum.
"Hey, you're the one who's confident nothing will go wrong," Lucifer insisted. "So what's the harm?"
Alastor glared at Lucifer a moment longer, then looked away with a huff.
"Fine," he relented, "but I'd better not catch even a glimpse of your ridiculous face."
A smug smirk settled on Lucifer's lips. "I'll be quiet as a mouse."
In a swirl of red and gold, Lucifer transformed into a pure white mouse with apple red markings. He stood on his hind legs, sniffing the air, doing the best theatrical flourish he could manage in his new form.
Alastor raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. Bending down, he pinched Lucifer's tail and lifted him by it before he could react.
Lucifer squeaked in outrage.
"And here I thought you couldn't get any smaller," Alastor commented.
Lucifer narrowed his beady little eyes and summoned a portal. He bit down on Alastor's hand, hard enough to make the demon hiss and release him, then dropped to the ground and scampered through the opening. Alastor followed, annoyance tugging at his grin, ducking in just as the portal snapped shut behind them.
The gateway had brought them to the porn studio in Vee Tower. The place was empty, lights dim and cameras off. Lucifer sniffed the air, padding in a small circle, but his form was ill-suited for reconnaissance. With a quiet poof, he shifted back into his usual form and shrugged at Alastor.
Alastor's ears angled toward a distant sound. After a moment, he tipped his head toward the stairs.
They ascended quietly, Alastor in the lead, guiding them down the hall into a dressing room. Not just a dressing room, but a suite. Spacious and comfortably furnished—the kind reserved for Valentino's star performers.
Lucifer swallowed.
He glanced down at the clothes strewn across the floor, scanning for anything that might be familiar. He wondered if it could be—
He walked straight into the top of Alastor's staff.
The sharp point caught him right in the sternum. Lucifer looked up at Alastor, mouthing ow. Alastor gave him a warning glare, standing motionless, tucked in the alcove between the wall and the ajar balcony doors.
A voice drifted up from below.
Valentino.
Lucifer wormed into the corner, ignoring Alastor's indignant grunt as he pushed past him. Crouching down, he peered through the glass.
Below, Valentino lounged on a chaise in the empty film studio, cigarette balanced between his fingers. Reddish-pink smoke swirled lazily above his head.
"Relax, armorcito," Valentino drawled. "Angel won't tell anyone in that shit hole of a hotel." A smirk tugged at his mouth. "I made sure he got a taste of what would happen if he did."
He swiped at his phone, a projection snapping to life above it. Vox's scowling face illuminated the space.
"Beating him half to death isn't the subtle message you think it is, Val," Vox snapped.
Valentino scoffed, exhaling smoke. "You act like he hasn't gone back with worse."
A growl rumbled in Lucifer's throat, his horns slowly emerging from his forehead. Two quick taps of Alastor's staff drew his attention. The demon gave him a warning look, silently commanding patience. Lucifer rolled his tongue between his molars, forcing himself to stay calm. Alastor was right; Vox was still on the call, and considering he could supposedly teleport through any electronic device, he could easily join the fray.
"I told you, you shouldn't have had him working so much!" Vox argued, his temper rising at Valentino's nonchalance. "He's a liability!"
Valentino waved his cigarette, irritation weaving its way through his words. "Did you forget that slut just won another SeXXXy Award over Tiffany Titfucker this year? Two in a row, Vox! If I'm going to make any money off this press--"
"We have more important things to worry about than PORN, Valentino!"
"Excuse me?!"
Vox pressed two fingers against his screen, trying to regain his composure. "Taking over Hell isn't a one-and-done affair, Val. We need time to prepare. We need—"
Valentino cut him off with a sharp wave of his hand. "I can't talk to you when you're like this."
Lucifer raised an eyebrow. Did he hear that right? He looked up at Alastor. "Are they planning a coup?"
Alastor tapped his chin, humming as he pretended to think. "Ah... now that you mention it, I do recall your dear friend Carmilla Carmine implying something along those lines during last month's Overlord Meeting."
Lucifer gaped at him. Alastor's smile widened, clearly enjoying his reaction.
"Yes, there was definitely a conversation where she hinted at having evidence on the matter," Alastor added, his voice dripping with mischief, "and it being the reason she sent her daughters to stay at the hotel!"
"And you didn't think to tell anyone?!" Lucifer hissed, frustration growing.
"Well," Alastor whispered lightly, "they're clearly bad at it, considering it's been well over a month and no moves have been made."
Lucifer's lips thinned, and he made a strangling motion with his hands. He wanted to say more, but the bickering grew louder from below, calling his attention away. Valentino was now on his feet, arguing with a full-sized Vox hologram as if the Overlord were physically there.
"No! Until you apologize for dismissing my art, I'm not picking up your calls!" Valentino yelled. "Bye, babe!"
He ended the call abruptly, flinging his phone across the floor and collapsing back onto the chaise.
"Ay ya no puedo con este. Estúpido demonio," he grumbled.
Lucifer glowered at Alastor. "We're discussing this later."
Alastor's smile only widened. The next second, he dissolved into shadows.
Lucifer sighed in exasperation, the breath turning into a hiss as his form twisted and shrank, scales sliding into place as he took the shape of a snake. Slithering down the decorative palm tree, he was careful to avoid detection by hugging the wall as he moved. He curled beneath another chaise lounge, Valentino framed perfectly in his line of sight.
Valentino took another drag of his cigarette and leaned his head back, forcing himself to relax.
A clacking sound came from the hallway.
He stiffened.
The sound echoed. Constant. Measured. Too sharp for casual footfalls.
Valentino straightened, his eyes narrowing at the darkness. "Who's there?" he called.
Silence answered him.
Rising to his feet, he reached for a gun on the table and cocked it with a sharp click. "The studio's closed." A smirk pulled at his lips. "But if you're really so desperate, I'm sure we can make a few more holes for you to use."
Lights flickered, but not from any normal source. An eerie gold glow split the black with a grin. Two red radio dials blinked on like watching eyes. A static-laced melody seeped from the shadows, low and warped.
Lucifer heard Valentino's breath hitch, unbidden. He cleared his throat.
"The Radio Demon," Valentino greeted silkily, attempting to regain calm. "What a surprise. If you're looking for Vox, he's not here."
Lucifer flicked out his tongue, the sharp scent of fear rolling over it.
The glow of Alastor's smile wavered in intensity as he let out a low, rumbling chuckle.
"I think you know it's not Vox I'm looking for."
Valentino's fingers tightened around the grip, his Adam's apple bobbing. "I take it Angel made his way home?"
"Despite your best efforts."
Alastor's head tilted abruptly to the side. An audible cracking sliced through the music and radio noise.
"But that shouldn't concern you anymore." His mouth never opened. The glow simply intensified, words leaking from the smile itself. "What should is what happens next."
Static deepened, drowning out what little of the song remained. Lucifer could practically feel it buzzing beneath his scales.
Something shifted behind Alastor's smile. Stretching. Warping. His shadow no longer matched his shape.
Valentino took the smallest step back, trying to hold his ground, but slipping.
"There are two ways this ends," Alastor continued.
His glowing expression loomed closer now. The floor creaked with an unexpected weight. His jaw finally unhinged with a slow, sickening pull, unable to restrain the widening grin. The low light of the room caught on a row of teeth that hadn't been there a moment before.
"In the first,"—the pleasantness of his tone didn't match—"you do something unexpectedly wise."
Another step.
His silhouette unfolded. Limbs appeared to elongate, joints seemed to bend where no joints should exist, but it was impossible to tell; the darkness clung to Alastor like living fabric, bending to his will and keeping the full extent of him shrouded in mystery.
"You release Angel Dust. You dissolve the contract." The grin stretched wider. "You live to enjoy what little you have left."
Valentino's grip on the gun trembled.
"In the second—"
Alastor's face split the darkness. Stitches strained at the corner of his mouth, the green thread barely holding his smile together. Bloody drool dripped from his maw where his teeth pierced the flesh that could no longer contain them. Antlers branched high and wide, shredded velvet hanging from the tines. His eyes were nothing but void, red radio dials the only light floating in the abyss.
"—I finish stepping out of the dark."
The thrumming in Lucifer's veins ceased as the static cut all at once, leaving only silence.
"And you don't."
The silence lasted less than a second.
Valentino met Alastor's gaze, raised his gun, and fired.
A tentacle surged up from the floor, intercepting the bullet midair. It flattened against the limb, dropping uselessly to the ground.
Alastor cackled. The sound echoed from every speaker in the studio.
"I should've known," Alastor laughed, his voice warped but never losing the pleasant inflection, "wisdom was never your, or either of your partners' strong suit!"
Gunfire erupted. Valentino shot out what few lights still burned, glass bursting overhead as red smoke flooded the studio.
Darkness swallowed the room.
Lucifer shifted instinctively, scales rippling into fur as he became a fox. Even with his sharpened senses, the smoke reduced the world to shifting shadows and sound.
"Trying to level the playing field, Valentino?" Alastor taunted. "Compensate for your god-awful vision?"
"¡Cierra la boca!" Valentino snarled. "God, Vox was right, you never shut up!"
Visible above the smoke, Alastor's ears twitched, tracking.
"I'm not the one who needs to, sweetheart."
Something moved.
A tar-black tentacle tore through the haze and wrapped around Valentino's throat. The gun clattered to the floor as he choked, frantically flapping his wings.
Lucifer shielded his face as the smoke surged, then thinned. When it cleared, he breathed out a gasp.
Alastor towered over the studio floor, hunched only because the ceiling demanded it. His limbs were gangly and wrong, the odd angles of joints only making sense in the context of the monstrosity he'd become. From his back spilled a roiling maelstrom of tentacles, writhing with an unspoken promise of their deadly capabilities. His manic expression made no effort to hide the joy he took in the destruction.
Lucifer had seen hints of Alastor's eldritch form before, but never to this capacity.
Horifying.
Grotesque.
Magnificient.
If Lucifer were any lesser of a being, he might have cowered. But instead, he stared in a way no sane person would.
He stared in wonder.
Valentino had shifted as well. Large wings unfurled in a dizzying display of false eyes that shimmered and confused. Poison barbs sprouted from his arms as he clawed desperately at the tentacle choking him. Red saliva dripped from his mouth, sizzling as it corroded the strangling limb.
But it all paled in comparison.
With terrifying speed, Alastor rushed forward, raking his claws across Valentino's face. His glasses shattered, blood spraying the wall as he shouted, recoiling in pain. His lower arms tried to pull out another set of guns, but Alastor caught them. Crushing the deadly protrusions with his claws, he ripped them straight off Valentino's body.
The scream that followed was raw, animal. Severed limbs hit the floor with wet thuds, weapons clattering uselessly from dead fingers.
Valentino spat blindly, corrosive venom splashing across his attacker's form.
Alastor didn't even flinch. His smile never wavered.
With a massive wind-up, he hurled Valentino across the studio. A resounding crack sounded from the impact. Lucifer couldn't be sure if it was the wall or Valentino's bones, as the moth demon crumpled, fighting for breath.
Alastor laughed, delighted.
He advanced slowly, savoring it. Valentino staggered to his feet, still gasping, eyes darting wildly for a way out. Watching panic bleed through his facade, something in Lucifer shifted.
He saw Alastor in a new light.
This was the Radio Demon.
The Overlord who had ended other Overlords, souls so spread out that it was assumed they couldn't be killed. A monster so feared that his abilities had become myth. Not even Lucifer knew how he'd accomplished it as a mere sinner only years into his manifestation in Hell.
The longer Lucifer stayed at the hotel, the more he learned about Alastor's reputation, but never had he seen it in action. For the first time, he saw Alastor through the eyes of a sinner.
Not a nuisance. Not a rival.
A force of nature.
A thrill coursed through him, sharp and exhilarating.
He didn't look away.
Valentino spread his wings, poised to take off, but a swarm of shadow imps lunged at him, shredding the fine velvet. Another scream of anguish gurgled in his throat as he tried to shake them off.
His footing slipped on the blood-slicked floor beneath him.
Alastor was on him instantly. He slammed Valentino's head into the ground once, twice, again. Bone cracked against the floor as claws tore into his abdomen in a frenzy. Valentino shrieked, hands scrabbling uselessly, blood pooling faster than he could comprehend.
"Stop!" he screeched. "STOP!"
Alastor relented. For a heartbeat.
Then a tentacle coiled around Valentino's ankle, flinging him across the room again. He hit the ground hard, skidding before colliding with the legs of a prop bed frame.
"Had enough yet, chum?" Alastor sang, cheerful and cruel.
Tears streamed down Valentino's face openly now, one hand clamped around his stomach in an effort to hold himself together. His form shrank, power bleeding out of him, leaving him too weak to maintain his strongest form. He desperately looked for a way out.
Alastor let out a low laugh, dragging his tongue up his claws, tasting blood. "I think I have."
Valentino's eyes locked onto something glowing and quietly vibrating on the floor. Lucifer followed his gaze, and his tail bristled.
The phone. Vox was calling.
"No, no, no, no," Lucifer hissed under his breath.
Alastor continued, oblivious. "Don't misunderstand me, Valentino, this has been delightful. It's been a while since I could let off steam against another Overlord."
He lumbered forward at an infuriatingly leisurely pace. Valentino rolled over and began dragging himself towards his phone. Each movement was agony, breath wheezing as blood smeared beneath him.
Lucifer's heart hammered. He promised Alastor not to intervene, but if Valentino reached it, if Vox came to his rescue...
Lucifer flicked his gaze between the feuding Overlords, silently willing Alastor to move.
"But we've been at this for quite some time now," Alastor continued, conversational. "And with it getting light, I'd hate to attract unnecessary attention."
Did he have to monologue? Lucifer dug his claws into the hardwood beneath him, calculating distances. Valentino was slower, but desperation made people reckless. One good reach and it could all go south in moments.
"Besides," Alastor added lightly, "I have a broadcast in less than an hour."
Valentino was nearly there. Panting, trembling. He groaned as he released his hold on his own gut to reach forward.
Alastor smiled darkly, his voice dropping.
"And I'd love to add a new scream."
Fuck it. Lucifer just had to hope Valentino's vision was as shit as everyone said.
He shifted mid-motion, ears elongating, tail shortening, propelling himself into a jump with strong rabbit hind legs. A sharp kick sent the phone skidding out of reach. Lucifer retreated in a blur of white, heart pounding.
"NO!" Valentino screamed. "FUCKING IMP!"
In the same instant, Alastor surged forward, wrenching Valentino off the ground by the throat. The moment Valentino's feet left the floor, every last ounce of dignity drained.
"WAIT!" Valentino clawed uselessly at Alastor's grip. "You win. You—you win."
His voice cracked on the words, like they tasted sour.
"I'll break it," he rasped quickly, panic overriding pride. "I'll break the contract."
A parchment flared into existence in his shaking hands. With a bloody finger, he jabbed at the signature.
"Anthony," Valentino croaked. "That's Angel's real name. Its his contract."
For a moment, he hesitated, humiliation setting in. Then pain twisted his face into a grimace. With a snarl of effort, Valentino tore it in half.
The parchment erupted into flame, disintegrating before it hit the floor and collapsing into ash.
Lucifer exhaled shakily. They did it.
Valentino sagged in Alastor's grip, tears cutting through the blood and grime on his face.
"It's done," he whispered hoarsely. "He's free. Now"—his breath hitched—"let me go."
The shadows peeled back.
As the ash settled, Alastor's massive form collapsed inwards, tentacles retracting, antlers regressing, joints snapping back into something neatly humanoid. He stood impeccably dressed and smiling pleasantly, as if nothing monstrous had ever been there.
He gave Valentino's cheek a light, almost fond tap.
"Good man."
Alastor released him.
Valentino crumpled to the ground, barely conscious.
A jaunty jazz tune crackled to life as Alastor twirled his staff and straightened his bow tie. He pivoted on his heel, leaving the whole encounter behind him.
"Give Vox my regards, won't you?" he called cheerfully over his shoulder.
Then he walked out, humming along.
Lucifer chittered in amusement, equal parts amused and exasperated. Alastor's theatrics, as annoying as they could be, did have their charm. He slipped through the door before it closed, shifting back into his usual form. Alastor was already a few paces ahead, and Lucifer jogged to catch up.
"I'm surprised you let him live," he said. "You'd better hope Vox doesn't retaliate."
"Vox may surround himself with idiots, but he's not one himself," Alastor replied lightly. "At least not entirely. He'll recognize mercy when he sees it."
He glanced at Lucifer, almost reluctantly. "Besides, he won't attack the hotel as long as you're there."
"Oh-ho," Lucifer teased, "are you actually admitting that I'm a bigger threat than you?"
For a split second, hunger seemed to flicker across Alastor's expression, but it passed too quickly for Lucifer to be sure.
"Don't let it go to your head," Alastor warned, "or you'll need a bigger top hat."
Lucifer rolled his eyes lightheartedly, but his thoughts wandered back to the fight.
As a seraph, he was leagues more powerful in nature, but Alastor had shown impressive strength for a mere sinner. Such power was rare; he'd only seen it in one other demon before. It truly captivated him.
Lucifer glanced sideways.
Alastor's posture was perfect and unbothered. Already, the minute bruises and acid burns were healing. The chaos they'd left behind might as well have been a radio skit.
An odd sense of pride bubbled up in Lucifer's chest; he wasn't sure if Alastor deserved it, or even if he had a right to feel it. But it was there.
"You did good," he said, surprised to find he meant it.
Alastor glanced at him with an unreadable expression. Taking his hand from behind his back, he rolled a small gold object between his fingers. Lucifer squinted at it for a moment before he made out the shape: a tooth.
He let out a sharp laugh as Alastor tossed it up and caught it again.
"I know."
Lucifer smirked. "For the record, I did kick Valentino's phone away before he could call for backup."
"Inconsequential."
***
A short walk and a portal later, and they were back at the hotel. Alastor found himself mildly amused that Lucifer hadn't stopped arguing. His inability to let the last word lie made the roundabout conversation quite entertaining.
"You can’t say I did nothing," Lucifer insisted as the crossed the threshold, irritation clear in his voice.
"I didn't say you did nothing," Alastor replied airily, "I said you did nothing of value."
That earned him exactly the reaction he expected.
"Oh, yeah. Nothing of value." Lucifer scoffed, rolling his eyes as he followed. "If Valentino had managed to pick up that call and Vox showed up, you'd be changing your tune real quick—"
Defensive and righteous. How delightfully predictable.
"Dad! I've been looking for you everywhere!"
Lucifer froze.
Alastor watched the shift in his demeanor in real time. His posture stiffened, his cocky attitude collapsing as Charlie hurried towards them, her expression tight with worry. Guilt radiated off him in waves, as if running off without explanation were some cardinal sin rather than a minor inconvenience.
Alastor clicked his tongue. It was honestly exhausting.
"Apologies, my dear," Alastor said smoothly, inserting himself into the situation. "Your father was helping me dispose of the trash."
Charlie slowed, confusion knitting her brow. She glanced between them, then shrugged it off with a small shake of her head.
"What's wrong, Char?" Lucifer asked, stepping around Alastor. The tension had left his shoulders.
Good.
Charlie turned fully to Lucifer, wringing her hands together. "I need to talk to you. Angel shared something really concerning. He was terrified to say anything because it's what Valentino hurt him so badly over—"
"Let me guess," Lucifer interrupted with a soft understanding. "The Vees are planning a coup to take over Hell?"
Charlie blinked. "How did you—?"
Alastor manifested between them with a cheery smile, making Charlie jump. Lucifer shot him an annoyed look.
"How we know is hardly important," he said brightly, clapping his hands once. "But rest assured, my dear, the situation has been handled."
Alastor placed his hands on Charlie's shoulders, steering her towards the stairs before either Morningstar could object. "Now, before you run along, make sure this gets to Angel Dust, will you?"
As they walked, Alastor slipped the small gold tooth into Charlie's palm. She frowned at it, lifting her hand to examine the object before looking back at him, baffled.
Alastor released her shoulders and gave her head a fond, dismissive pat. "Don't worry," he said pleasantly. "I'm sure he'll already know what it means."
With that, Alastor turned away, humming softly to himself, thoroughly satisfied, entertained, and confident that Lucifer was properly distracted from asking anymore prying questions.