Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Lute glared ahead on a bed. At this point, it was all she could do: sit there and stew in self-pity and masochistic hatred at what she had become… at what she had made of herself.

Every time she closed her eyes, it was the same harrowing flood of memories. Adam’s face as he died, the looks of once-fellow Angels glaring in scorn at her and her fellow Exorcists for the truth of the Exterminations being out in the open. But the worst of it came from her own comrades, her battle-sisters.

Failure.

No better than the scum we execute.

These words ingrained themselves within Lute’s very essence, she knew she was a failure and couldn’t do anything about it. So why… why was she shown kindness upon her fall? By HER…?!

Charlie stood nearby, leaning into Lute’s line of sight with a soft smile. “Heyyy…” she said with a hesitant wave.

Lute’s eyes didn’t even flick to meet the princess’s gaze.

“Yup.”

Charlie seated herself on the edge of the bed. Ever since the hotel's reconstruction and refurbishment, it received a significant upgrade due to Lucifer now taking up residence… in the basement of all places. Most likely to get as far away from Alastor and his radio tower with the bonus of extra storage space for his obscene rubber duck collection. New beds, new wallpaper, even flatscreens connected to the other Rings far out of VoxTek influence. Lute knew it was to piss off the radio demon with modern tech despite Lucifer’s own opinion of television, but she never said it out loud.

“It’s been over a month and a half, Lute… maybe you should try to participate in some of my workshops?” Charlie pleaded. “We’re doing art therapy tomorrow.”

The angel’s eyes squinted and finally met Charlie’s with a face that said ‘Are you fucking serious?’.

“Oh sure,” she responded sarcastically before switching to a mocking jovial tone with a swing of her remaining arm, “Lemme just waltz on in and say ‘Hey guys! Sorry bout that whole genocide, we’re cool, right? Hand me that red crayon!’” Lute tossed over in the bed, trying to cover herself, to hide the tears welling up in her eyes. “Do us all a favor and let me fucking rot…”

Charlie’s eyes widened, averting her gaze as she was met face-to-face with stumps instead of wings. No matter how often she saw them, it was uncomfortable. Vaggie had that treatment easier if one could believe it. Lute’s were twisted, pulled, bent, and eventually torn off.

Not seeing much she could do, Charlie sighed, nodding. “Alright, just, please think about it a little more.” The princess walked to the door, pausing to look back at the angel still huddled in her misery. “There’s always a place for you here, even if you don’t believe it.”

Vaggie stood sentinel outside, her arms folded over her chest as she saw Charlie exit Lute’s room.

“Any luck?” she whispered. Charlie’s face said it all, no dice.

Charlie sniffled, trying not to cry. “I just don’t know what to do… I know Hell’s full of souls who’ve been victims of what Lute’s been through but it’s never easy to address and even harder to help with…”

The princess felt gentle hands cup her cheeks, lifting her gaze to meet her girlfriend’s. “She’ll come to us when she’s ready. I needed time myself after ‘falling’. She may seem all pride and whatever, but she will come around… I hope…” The uncertainty in Vaggie’s voice didn’t put Charlie at as much ease as she hoped.

Vaggie hated Lute, that was no secret, the two had shared a history of working for the same asshole. Razzle hated Lute because she was the reason his twin Dazzle was dead, immortalized as a golden statue alongside a portrait of Sir Pentious in the lobby. Everyone in the hotel save for perhaps Lucifer and Niffty hated Lute on a personal level. Even Charlie wasn’t all that fond of the fallen angel sulking in the room at the end of the hall, but someone had to look out for her well-being, even if it earned her some level of scrutiny on the first day.

Charlie reached up, taking hold of Vaggie’s hands with a small smile, leaning forward to peck her on the lips. “I just hope my message to Emily gets through, Heaven’s bureaucracy is still in shambles after Adam died last I heard.”

“Well, you know… Angels and their paperwork, they love it,” Vaggie chuckled.

Niffty scuttled on by, holding a tray of food. The diminutive maid stopped at Lute’s door, delivering a series of knocks like a code. It seemed like Alastor had cooked Jumbalaya for dinner; the aroma was frankly enchanting. The bowl on the tray swung precariously back and forth, never quite tipping over.

The door creaked open as the couple watched Lute take her tray without a word, pausing to meet Vaggie’s gaze before looking away and letting the door click shut.

“She’s been crying,” Niffty commented, pointing to her eye with a slightly manic grin as she slunk by the two ladies, “Redder than last time! She misses her bad boy!” she continued with a sing-song voice as she vanished around the corner.

“WRONG, YOU FUCKING GOBLIN!” Lute roared from behind the door.

Charlie and Vaggie exchanged a look, they knew they had to get to the bottom of this one way or another.

In the lobby, Husk was nursing a recent hangover, pouring a drink for Angel Dust and Cherri Bomb. They collectively froze at Lute’s outburst.

The first to speak was Cherri, with a sly whistle, “This bird’s touchy.”

“After the shit she went through, I'd be more concerned if she wasn't,” Husk commented, taking a swig from the nearly-empty bottle he poured earlier.

“Remind me, what did she go through?” the cyclopean demon asked, sipping her glass. “Had some shit to do in the Doomsday District so I’m not up to speed.”

“Turf war?” Angel asked.

“Nah,” Cherri chuckled, “I’m movin’ into this place, just had to pick up some nicknacks and clothes from my flat.”

Angel nudged Cherri with a laugh. “HAH! Took ya long enough to come around, sugar tits! What changed your mind?”

Cherri stared down at her glass, seeing her reflection in the amber liquid. Her expression hardened when she looked up and turned around to look at the memorial portrait of Sir Pentious. “A promise to myself,” she replied, giving the portrait a salute before throwing the glass back in a single gulp. “So, about Lute?”

Husk leaned against the counter, attempting to recall from memory what Lute said during the one and only group session she attended. “Exterminations became public knowledge in Heaven, shit went south real quick,” Husk explained, “I don’t know the finer details, but our new fallen angel got given the reverse purple nurple from Hell on her wings while getting beaten and tortured by her former comrades. Something about failing to protect Adam. The only extra grain of knowledge on this I know is she wasn’t officially kicked out, kinda like Vaggie.” He finished his short explanation with a final swig of the bottle.

Angel Dust cleared his throat as if hesitant to ask. “When you say torture…?”

“The same kind of shit you deal with Valentino, only with no safety,” Husk quickly replied with a deadpan expression. 

Both patrons at the bar cringed, an uncomfortable hissing inhale coming between Angel Dust’s teeth.

“Wait, if the Exterminations are public knowledge with the goody-two-shoes souls now, doesn’t that mean they’re most likely on hold for now? That clock tower stopped counting down for a good while now,” Cherri said, putting two and two together with an excited tone.

Husk smirked, raising his empty bottle, “Yep, seems that way.”

“Fuck yeah! No more pigdeon wankers!” Cherri cheered, awkwardly noticing Vaggie when she appeared with Charlie nearby. “Ahem… present company excluded of course,” she quickly added with a sheepish grin and shrug.

“How’s our shut-in?” Husk asked Charlie.

“The usual, grumpy, and hard on herself,” she sighed, seating herself at the bar. “One Strawberry Coconut Daiquiri, please.”

Angel held back on making a sex pun at the ‘hard’, earning a preemptive disapproving scowl from Vaggie who eased when the spider demon said nothing.

Husk nodded, preparing the ingredients for Charlie’s special order drink.

“Dang, shit’s got you that down you need the fav drink, dollface?” Angel whistled, resting his head on his right set of arms.

Razzle hovered down from his perch on the golden statue of his brother, huffing as he landed on the edge of the bar counter. He half-scowled and half-worriedly stared at Charlie. He was still rather bitter about Lute being allowed to stay, but he had to swallow his pride to reassure Charlie in his own way that she was doing the right thing.

“Thanks Razzle…” Charlie smiled, giving the draconic lamb a short cuddle. “I just hope Emily gets my message. It must be chaos up there.”

Meanwhile…

Sera sat across from Sir Pentious at a glass table, taking a slow sip from a cup of tea. The snake sinner-turned-angel copied her out of courtesy. “Excellent tea, Miss Sera,” he complimented nervously, his serpentine lisp prominent.

Sera’s private residence was opulent but simple in function. The dining room was directly connected to a small kitchenette, with a grand door leading out into the main foyer. A window spanning the length of the table oversaw a sparkling city settling into night. The glittering lights of the nightlife made Pentious feel homesick, reminding him of Pentagram City from above in his airship before meeting Charlie. What he wouldn’t give to see it all again… 

Since arriving in Heaven he has made quite a name for himself, though understandably he was… detained for his own safety. The accommodations were to his liking, yet he was itching to know if everyone down in Hell was okay. “You like it? My own special blend,” Sera responded cooly, placing her cup down.

A silence grew, and Pentious fidgeted in his chair. “So… why can’t I call Miss Charlie?”

“We’ve been over this,” Sera said with exasperation, placing a hand over her forehead. “We need to be absolutely certain you have actually been redeemed.”

“What difference does it make?”

Sera opened her mouth to answer but paused. Her wings tightened against her body. Pentious had a point, if he wasn’t truly redeemed, he would probably just be sent back down. And if he was, he would have more autonomy in Heaven amongst the mortal souls hailed as a pioneer, being able to contact Hell through his reputation alone. “For your own safety,” Sera answered honestly. “Ever since Adam’s death and you showing up, we’ve had to make an announcement, and… Heaven’s been in a bit of an uproar. The Exorcists have been disbanded, and... I’m sure you can connect the dots as to why you must remain here until further notice.”

Pentious slouched back in his seat, gripping the edge, staring at his fingertips. The disbanded Exorcists see him as an abomination and those bloodthirsty warriors won’t be merciful if they got him alone. “I… see…”

“If it helps, I have arranged for someone to be your guide and protector in Heaven as a trial period.” Sera stood, the chair sliding back without so much as a scrape. “Well, two guides to be extra safe.”

Pentious looked up as the seraphim walked past, his hood flaring out with restrained excitement. “Who?” His hat was displaying his bubbling excitement fully.

Sera gave a wry smile, not wanting to ruin the surprise. “You’ll see, trust me it was a surprise for me too when Emily introduced them.” Behind the smile, Pentious could see a millennia of regret weighing it down. Sera was barely holding it together, having allowed The Exterminations this long, and it was taking a massive mental toll. “Get some rest, Sir Pentious. It’s going to be a… long day tomorrow…” Sera spoke with a shudder, increasing her pace to leave the room.

“Of course… Miss Sera… pleasant dreams.”

Sera paused in the doorway, her shoulders slumped and her wings drooped. “Thank you,” she whispered, closing the door behind her.

The fallen angel opened her eyes, the empty bowl of jambalaya on the bedside table. She turned over, glaring at the broken horned mask of her former position resting on the bedside table opposite as if it were mocking her with that stitched smile peering back. Her broken sword was unceremoniously sticking out the gaping crack of the mask like a self-loathing sheathe. The plastic brick of a digital clock read 3 AM.

With a sigh, she laid on her belly to avoid agitating her wing stumps.

“So, what’s it gonna be?” A voice echoed, her own voice. It startled Lute at first, but when she saw her own reflection smirking back in the body-length mirror inside the ajar closet she knew it was going to be one of ‘those nights’. The doppelganger was in full uniform, mask and all.

Lute groaned, gripping her head. “Please… shut up…”

“Not a fucking chance, weakling,” Lute(?) snarked, crossing her legs after scooching to the edge of the bed.

"Shut the fuck up...!" she croaked out, reaching out to grab her mask by the horn, instinctively doing so with her missing left arm. This only made Lute scream as she swiped the mask with her right arm, sending it slamming into the far wall, narrowly missing the flatscreen TV facing the foot of her bed and landing on its side on the dresser still facing her.

Her reflection gave a mock pity pout. “You fuck up this badly, and worst yet you accept their pity? Their hospitality? Worse yet you actually enjoyed that slop they call food.”

Lute whimpered, shutting her eyes slightly. “P-Please…” she whined uncharacteristically.

“You know what must be done.” Lute(?) was pressing her hand against the mirror.

“No…”

The pommel of Lute’s old sword cracked against the mirror, the damage repairing itself. Lute stifled a grunt, her vision shaking as if the pommel was striking her very skull.

“Wrong answer. What must be done?” Lute(?) growled.

“Yeah… what must be done?” a familiar voice graced Lute’s ears. “Kinda obvious ain’t it, danger-tits?”

Behind Lute’s mirror image, she saw Adam… a bleeding hole in his chest and his mask gone, revealing his pale complexion from blood loss. Lute(?) stepped out of the way.

“Sir… I’m sorry…!” Lute choked out.

Adam(?) nonchalantly inspected the gloves of his outfit as if checking his nails. “Sorry doesn’t put the cunts out of Heaven’s misery, babe. Also, you know, doesn’t fix this.” He gestured to the bleeding hole. “Ain’t that right, girls?”

Lute’s eyes widened as Exorcists in various states of decay and fatal damage emerged from behind Adam(?)’s flared wings with his arms stretched wide. All of them perished in the failed siege against the hotel, now most likely Cannibal Town’s latest barbecue. “Just hallucinations… just hallucinations…” she tried reassuring herself.

As if out of a horror movie, the deceased Exorcists began spilling out of the mirror after the boundary between shattered, clamoring over one another before Adam(?) and Lute(?) followed, stepping over or on top of the writhing mass.

One of the deceased Exorcists lumbered close. “This a hallucination to you?” She lifted her mask, exposing a skull with rotten muscle and sinew barely clinging to it, a single rolling eye glaring wildly. The stench, oh dear God the stench… Lute’s mirror self held the blade of her sword against her throat, the stitched grin growing impossibly wide.

“You know what you need to do,” they all said in unison, chanting it repeatedly, closing in while the blade began to press harder.

Lute closed her eyes, her own pleading drowned out by the chorus for retribution from her own splintering psyche. Her eyes shut tighter, awaiting her the moment her head would be cleaved, but it never came.

Hesitantly, the fallen angel opened her eyes, it was just her now… her and her broken sword held against her own throat. Gasping for air, her arm fell limp. She stared at the reflective edge, wanting to discard the accursed thing but… she knew what she had to do.

Whatever it took to make the voices and visions go away.

Dressed in just a loosely fitting white t-shirt and her undergarments, Lute slunk out of her room, blade in hand with wide, spellbound eyes.

Taking shuffling steps she followed the signs towards the stairwell, checking where the laundry room was. Ground level… well, no shit. She hobbled down the stairs, not wanting to bring too much attention through the elevator. Lute shivered, constantly looking over her shoulder, praying no one would see her or worse her visions intervening.

In the short few times Lute had left her room in the middle of the night for air and no social interactions, she had scoped out everyone’s routines. One of the benefits of a military career after all.

Charlie and Vaggie rarely stayed up past midnight on a good day, Angel Dust was working for that bald moth with consent issues, Husk was out drunk behind his bar and Razzle slept at the foot of the princess’s bed. The only wild cards were Cherri Bomb, Lucifer, and Alastor so she would need to pray for luck from the powers that be that allowed this fate to befall her. The focus of her night, however, was that damnable maid, Niffty, thankfully kept to a simple routine; Clean, cook, free time, clean, cook, free time then sleep.

Lute’s bare feet padded against the reflective floor of the main lobby, pausing to ensure Husk was snoring as she passed by his bar. She caught sight of a bottle of beer just sitting on the counter with a note stuck to it. The angel’s brow furrowed, picking up the bottle to inspect the note after placing her sword on a nearby stool.

Hey, I know about your late-night walks or whatever. If it helps, a drink on the house if you ever pass by. Not like I fuckin’ charge for them anyway but you look like you could use some kinda vice.

-Husker

Lute scowled at the note, then crumpled it. More pity… more fucking pity. She was an angel! One of the mightiest soldiers of Heaven! She did not need pity! She… was… an angel… 

Pursing her lips, she stuck the bottle under what was left of her other arm to tear the cap off, chugging the bottle in a few gulps. It burned going down, it could have been poisoned but Lute did not care. The stinging of the carbonation caused her eyes to water, like drinking a freshly opened bottle of soda.

After emptying the bottle she gasped softly as the warm sensation of the alcohol spread through her body, placing the bottle back down on the counter before grasping the handle of her sword. Back to the mission.

It wasn’t long before Lute found the laundry room, the golden plate said as much. She gave the door a gentle push and it slowly creaked open. Unlocked. Taking a step in she saw her target… laying amongst the laundry like a fucking nest fast asleep. This was too easy.

Lute grit her teeth, stepping forward while switching to a backward grip for stabbing she raises her sword higher with each step. Just as she loomed over the diminutive maid she paused, one piece of laundry catching her eye on a drying rack.

Her old uniform…

It looked repaired, almost brand new even with the materials they had on hand. Why would they repair such a symbol of fear for her? It made no sense, why this small kindness? Why the hospitality and all this bullshit for a monster like her?

“Well? What’s keeping you?” Lute’s own voice rattled.

Lute shook her head, whispering. “No… I can’t, I hate this… thing with every fiber of my being but I can’t.”

Lute(?) groaned. “Allow me, weakling.”

A pair of different hands grasped Lute’s wrist, attempting to guide her strike. Her mirror self was just in the corner of her vision, now without the mask, grinning with bloodlust in her eyes. On the other side of her head was Adam, also grinning. Their mouths never moved, but she could hear them speaking in perfect synchronicity.

“Kill,” they chanted.

“No…”

“Kill!” they demanded.

“I can’t…”

“Kill!!!” they screeched.

“Please..” KILL! “I don’t…” KILL! “I… KILL! “I…”

“KILL THE SINNER!!!”

The hotel shook with a shrill shriek. Lute had tugged her wrist away from the hallucinations, plunging the blade into her own belly, stabbing viciously over and over. Niffty was startled awake, practically leaping onto a nearby washing machine as all the lights turned on and every door swung open with a chorus of slams. The hotel itself awoke in a panic.

“I WON’T… I WON’T!” Lute kept screeching as golden ichor spilled from her wounds. “GET OUT OF MY FUCKING HEAD!”

Niffty stared with a mixture of shock and mild annoyance that her clean laundry was getting blood splattered all over it. "My laundry!" she whined.

Charlie and Vaggie were first to appear in the doorway, the princess gasping with her hands clasped to her mouth while Vaggie took the initiative to tackle Lute and keep the angel from aiming the blade at her own throat. Lute’s struggles were short-lived as she devolved into pained sobbing and wailing, her sword clattering to the ground.  “Failure…” she cried out. “I’m sorry, sir…!”

Husk and Cherri soon peeked around the doorway, the punky cyclops holding Fat Nuggets while Angel Dust was at the studio. She took one look at the mess and swung around, covering the demon piglet’s eyes. “Fuckin’ fuck!”

“Husk! Get the first-aid kit!” Charlie pleaded, that was the last thing Lute heard before passing out from the pain.

Angel Dust groaned, stretching his back which cracked in various places. Bondage night… fun… “Are we done, tonight…?” He shuddered, quickly adding, “Daddy?”

Valentino glowered from his director’s chair, staring his most prized porn star down. He smirked at Angel quickly amending his question as the spider sat on the heart-shaped bed. The moth-like overlord took a long drag from his cigarette, exhaling a plume of pink smoke that stretched like tendrils. “Yes, though I expect you to be more enthusiastic in your struggling next time,” he playfully chided with that smug smirk that sent shivers of disgust up Angel's spine.

“Of course, daddy…” Angel sighed. “You’re the boss.”

The spider demon slunk out of the bed, putting on his boots as he did while strolling to his make-up room to get dressed for the walk back to the hotel. His phone was on his vanity dresser, vibrating wildly from several texts and a few missed calls. Arching an eyebrow he picked up the phone with his bottom set of arms while adjusting his hair with the top pair.

The texts were mostly from Cherri Bomb with a few from Charlie—something about Lute ‘goin’ bonkers’.

Angel tapped on the screen to call back with a video call, it didn’t even ring once before it was picked up.

“Shit hit the fan,” Cherri started off, “Lute snuck out of her room to kill Niffty but ended up goin’ fuckin mental and stabbin’ herself!”

“...What?” Angel could hardly believe what he was hearing. “And we let Lute keep her sword why?!” was all he could ask.

Cherri shrugged. “Fuck if I know, her wounds healed, so… guess that sword ain’t really Angelic Steel? I mean, if Vaggie can get her wings back after havin’ them cut by the same thing-” She paused, considering the possibilities, but that came second.

“Is she okay?” Angel finished tidying his hair, now getting dressed after placing his phone against the vanity mirror. “And Niffty’s okay too, right?”

“More or less, we had to cuff the mad pigeon’s limbs to the bedposts until she stopped having a fit. Now we’ve gone from that to stern supervision from Charle and Vaggie. Speaking of… sorry, we had to borrow some of your fuzzy cuffs so she wouldn’t hurt herself. Niff’s alright, she considered an attempted murder a romantic gesture but she wasn’t interested.”

“I’m not into women!” Niffty chirped from out of view.

“It’s no problem, sugar-tits.” Angel waved it off with a slightly amused smile at the thought of Lute using his gear and the mixed messages from the maid’s point of view. “Alright, I’ll be at the hotel in less than an hour. Thanks for taking care of my precious Baby Nuggs for me, by the way.” Angel waved at the piglet lying on Cherri’s lap. Nuggets snorted a little before cheerfully squealing, waving his small hoof. Angel hung up, adjusting his shirt to press his chest up. “Hm, yup, lookin’ good.”  Giving himself a finger gun salute with four hands he opened the door to his dressing room, his breath catching in his throat as Valentino was standing there, blocking the doorway.

“You forgot this,” Valentino said, holding up a pair of pink fuzzy cuffs Angel brought from the hotel. His voice was sickly sweet, piling on the charm. “Wouldn’t want to mix up your best gear with the rest, hmm?”

“Uhm… thanks.” Angel Dust hesitantly took the cuffs, slipping around his boss before leaving the studio, mouthing ‘what the fuck’.

As Valentino watched his special toy leave, his grin widened. He had heard the phone call. A fallen angel? And this one is in a vulnerable mental state, no less. The name Lute rang a bell. Flipping up a bedazzled phone, he placed it to his ear, calling Velvette. Oh, did he have a story for her…

Chapter Text

Heaven, approximately one and a half months ago. Post-Seige.

"Adam is dead, your deal is done, and I'm in charge now. Your brat is threatening the very foundation of Heaven, and if you want to stay here, you're going down there and stopping that bitch! You understand me, Lilith?"

Lilith glowered from behind her shades at the halo tossed at her feet. The calming sound of small waves crashing onto shore filled the air in the brief silence shared.

“Dead, you say?” she finally repeated, unperturbed at the news.

Lute growled. “Yes, dead.”

Lilith leaned back in her chaise, removing her shades. “And what makes you think you’re in charge? You do know Adam has a son in Heaven? Then again, I doubt you even were much of a reader.” The woman chuckled. “He never told you about the conditions of the deal did he?”

Conditions…?

Lute was too stunned to process the insult.

Lilith continued in her calm voice, “The deal was in the event he ever retired from his position, leadership would be transferred to his son, Abel, who might I add despised the Exterminations. The dick was too confident that he would never retire that he never thought ahead that he could possibly perish. In return for Abel’s saved position and the safety of the Hellborn, I am to remain here away from my subjects, my husband… my daughter! ”

Her calm voice changed, now a chorus repeating over itself as Adam’s first ex rose from her chaise, floating above the sands. Her form visibly changed, her sunhat flying off to reveal growing curved horns.

“ And you DARE presume I would indulge your attitude after you not only disturbed my rest but called my dearest daughter a bitch after attacking her?! My opinion of you is already low enough that I was to be confined here while you and your soldiers slaughter my dearest denizens of Hell year after year. The deal is now null. ”

Lute took a step back, her golden eyes wide, she felt the slender fingers of Lilith snake around her throat at lightning speed to lift the Exorcist to face level.

“L-Let me go, you crazy demon bitch!” Lute choked, feebly kicking at the air. A moment passed before she was dropped like a piece of trash.

“I may not be allowed to leave this gilded cage. Yet.” Lilith sneered. “But I still retain a higher authority and power than you and the rest of what remains of your army. Now get out of my sight before I lose my patience any further.” She took her seat once again, conjuring a sunbathing reflector while her glasses floated back up to her face and adjusted themselves.

Insulted, and terrified, Lute had no choice but to flap her wings and return to Adam’s headquarters furiously.

Lilith observed the Exorcist fly off with a smirk. “I wonder if Abel would allow me to contact Charlotte once leadership has officially transferred…hm…” She waved her hand, a glass orb floating from a wooden beach house nearby in front of her. She inspected the orb, witnessing a small mote of light flickering inside.

Her smirk grew triumphant.

“One made it through.”

Humiliated, Lute found her way to her place of residence. One would assume she basically lived at the barracks… well, right next to them anyway. Her lungs burned from the effort she exerted to escape Lilith. Lute knew that she couldn’t be followed out of the beach but she didn’t want to take the chance… that bitch was terrifying.

You sure knew how to pick them, sir…

Taking a moment to breathe, she checked her missing arm. It had already healed over, with no chance of re-attaching the missing appendage. Not like there was much to save of it anyway, Vaggie made sure of that. She cursed out loud, opening the door to her home.

Lute’s home was a repurposed storage shed mostly used in the coming days of an Extermination, she had fancier back when Adam was alive, but going to hang out in his abode now that he was dead felt wrong and empty… for now, this was all she had; a bed, a reading table with a portable stove, and a closet. Simple and to the point.

She took a moment to struggle out of her uniform, her wings fluttering with aggravation as she was now naked. Lute looked over herself, a few cuts and bruises, but nothing too grievous. Grunting she tugged open the closet to procure a seldom-used first-aid kit. Couldn’t be too careful after getting injured in Hell.

Opening it she inspected the contents, gauze, cotton balls… and the Heaven equivalent of painkillers. All the good, none of the addiction. Lute picked up the small bottle of rattling pulls and threw a few back into her mouth, gulping without water.

“Bad idea…” She gagged a little.

The pills started kicking in and the stinging pain was now just a dull manageable burn. Sighing with relief Lute began prodding the cotton balls on her cuts while they slowly began healing. Because they were inflicted with Angelic Steel though… they were scarred.

She scowled. Her body, a holy temple of Heavenly retribution, was scarred.

Closing the kit lid, she placed it back in the closet and fished out some casual wear. She needed something to distract herself and collect her thoughts, a walk around Heaven Central maybe? No… too simple. She needed a drink and a meal. Yeah, that should do it.

Lute nodded, wearing a dark grey tank top with a stylized image of Adam’s horned mask covering the chest and blue jeans with steel-toed shoes.

“Looking good…” she glumly muttered to herself.

She opened the door to her home and flared her wings ready to take flight. Whispers caused her to take pause.

“Hello?”

Lute looked around, the whispers ceased with just the soft breeze being all she heard. Shrugging it off she leapt up and flew directly to the city.

Mid-flight it had just occurred to Lute that she hadn’t seen a single Exorcist since arriving back…

“Hm…” Lute grunted. “We usually celebrate every Extermination, not much to celebrate… fuck, the last time an Extermination failed was… never!” She continued to ramble to herself, riling herself up.

Descending into the city, she was met with odd looks from the Winners and Cherubs due to her slightly disheveled appearance. After shrugging it off, they soon went about their business. The angel scanned her surroundings, trying to remember the place… aha!

With a slight jog, she approached an Italian-themed restaurant named Fettuccia. Pizza… that’s what she needed to calm down, some good old-fashioned stone-oven-baked pizza! As she made her entrance, the few customers paused their meals to look, greeting Lute with a wave. The restaurant was cozy, and small, huddled between two other restaurants. Inside was a collection of tables in the middle, with a few booths lining the wall. The service counter had no cash register, infinite supplies meant cash was redundant in Heaven. Behind it near the top of the wall was a flatscreen playing a local sports game, even in Heaven, it seemed competitive spirit was a thing.

A tall moth-like angel behind the service counter waved with a wide welcoming grin. “Welcome to Fet-” She blinked, as if making sure who she saw was correct. “Oh! You must be Lute! My name’s February!”

February was tall, lanky even, but still retained a feminine physique. She was dressed in a tight pair of black yoga pants and a white off-the-shoulder sweater that only seemed to be held up by her chest fluff, or cleavage. Lute didn't care or wanted to know the difference. Her hair was tied back into a ponytail that flared out near the end, reaching her waist, with the front bangs being side-swept over her right eye. Her coloration was pretty striking too, a slightly off-pink body, her hair a white and black striped pattern neatly alternating over her head and ponytail, the bangs perfectly split down the middle in the same alternating black and white. The same applied to the outline of her large wings at rest, resembling a cape sharing the same faded pink as her body.  On the counter sat a baseball cap for a local Heaven team named the Nibiru Event.

The angel had to admit, February had good taste in teams... 

“Uhm... yeah, you new here?”

February shook her head. “No, no, I run the entertainment club downtown, but my bestie needed to attend to some business so I offered to fill in. She got called up to the High Seraphim’s office less than an hour ago, you barely missed her.” She picked up a notepad, flicking it to a blank page. “So, what’ll it be?” February asked cheerfully. “And I’ll mark ya down for some of our finest brews, the usual on that front according to- oh dear! Your arm!”

“Wait-wait-wait…” Lute made a placating motion with her hand. “Molly got summoned to speak with Sera?”

“Uh-huh! Now about your arm…”

Lute pinched the bridge of her nose, just wanting to drown her sorrows and eat her feelings away. “Just a minor accident helping Adam with his duties, it’ll grow back,” she half-lied. “Double my brew order, and make my pizza extra cheesy, please…”

Questions for later…

Lute grumbled, waking up after being gently shaken. Her eyes were heavy and refused to open fully. Her vision adjusted, and she saw February leaning over her, concerned.

“You okay? We’re closing up soon.”

“Fucking… how long did I…?” Lute stretched, sitting up. Did she really get blackout drunk and sleep through the whole day? The windows were darker, yup, she slept through. She prayed that she didn’t make a spectacle of herself. Lute looked down, checking her clothes. Still clean. “Ugh… how much did I drink…?” She suppressed a burp, tasting the pizza she ate on her breath mixed with the alcohol. Her tongue rolled out with an audible ‘blech.’ 

No hangovers to look forward to, Heaven-brewed alcohol had all the upsides with none of the downsides. But God did Lute wish she could feel the throbbing pain of a headache to drown out the thoughts at the back of her mind.  

“A little too much…” February confirmed. “Do you want me to call you a cab?”

“Pfft, nah, I’ll walk it off!” Lute cackled, sounding harsher than she meant to.

February’s calm demeanor turned stern, almost sisterly with her lower arms crossed and upper arms resting on her hips. “Not a chance, missy. You are not walking alone in your current state. You might get-” She paused, realizing this was Heaven, not her old life. It was a hard habit to break being so concerned for others that she would project her past life experiences. “Well, you could maybe fall off a cloud bank!” The moth angel threw all four of her arms up, her feathery antennae straightening to emphasize her point. 

Lute humphed like a grouchy teen, grudgingly nodding and leaning against the angel for support. “Thanks, I guess.”

“It’s no problem, where do you live?” February asked.

Shit…

Lute had not taken into account that Winners didn’t know about the Exterminations when she accepted February’s assistance. If she told her the location, the cab driver would question why there was a whole fucking military outpost and blab.

“Uhm… Adam’s residence, you know, the one with the mailbox that looks like a golden… dick…” She lied. “I need to look after the place while he’s away.”

“Ohhh! Yeah makes sense, you’ve basically been attached at the hip every time he’s around.” February giggled. “Wonder where he is, the girls and I always enjoyed his visits.”

Lute chuckled awkwardly. If only they knew why he visited...

The cab arrived a few minutes later after February gave them a call. In the meantime, Lute was drowning out the taste of beer with a final complimentary black coffee. “Thanks,” she murmured.

“See you soon!” February cheerily waved as Lute entered the platinum-colored car with wings where its wheels should be. 

Lute returned a half-hearted wave as the cab took off with a U-turn in midair.

Thankfully, the ride was short and silent. If she had the app for it Lute would have rated the driver 5 stars for not bothering with small talk.

She looked out at the city below, leaning against the window. She should be able to admire the sights. But all she saw was Pentagram City, years upon years of swooping down to deliver divine justice, and it just blended. Lights and spires, billboards, and shifting rectangles of rooftops. Lute knew she should be seeing Heaven, but all she saw was Hell. 

Why?

The cab descended, pulling into a silver-tinted street with Adam’s abode within sight. Lute shuffled out of the cab and nodded to the driver. “Thanks for the lift.”

“Have a good night!” The driver called out, his vehicle driving off into the night sky.

Lute gazed longingly at Adam’s home, stepping forward and placing a hand on the fence. She took a deep shuddering breath, trying not to cry. She had to stay strong… to cry would be a weakness, to accept weakness is to admit defeat. She checked her jeans pockets, damn… she left her keys in her uniform. “Fuck it… I’ll come back tomorrow. But first…”

The angel hopped the fence and walked around back to Adam’s backyard, a miniature recreation of The Garden of Eden with the centerpiece being a single apple tree. She approached an inconspicuous-looking bush nearby and leaned down, thrusting her hand into the dir, pulling out a small metal box half the size of her palm, and clutching it to her chest. The box was welded shut, whatever was inside, it was something Adam didn’t want anyone else to open and trusted only Lute with its location. Lute stuffed the box into her pocket.  

She stretched her wings, flapping them. The alcohol had worn off on the drive. She may as well fly through the city, without her mask’s HUD flying in the dark was not something she was in the mood for. With the metal box now secure, she took off, staring over her shoulder at the retreating building.

Her otherwise calm flight would be short-lived.

In the middle of the city she paused, several holographic screens began popping up all over. Lute’s eyes widened as she was met with the High Seraphim Sera standing alone, a solemn look on her face.

“No… she wouldn’t…!” Lute exclaimed.

Sera inhaled deeply and spoke.

“Denizens of Heaven. It is with a heavy heart that I must inform you all that Adam, the first man, has perished.”

A collective gasp shook the city while the Seraphim waited for emotions to die down and continue.

“For centuries, he and a select group of Angels would fly down from Heaven to Hell and… cull the population. He overstepped his authority when he moved up the yearly date to helm an attack on Charlotte Magne Morningstar, daughter of the Fallen Seraphim, Lucifer Magne Morningstar. He died due to his own hubris. The Elders allowed this all to happen because we feared an uprising from Hell, but our fears were unfounded.”

Tears began to form in Sera’s eyes, glistening as they rolled down her elegant face.

“We believed that the Sinners of Hell deserved their punishment, that they were a threat to the foundation of Heaven and its values.”

Sera’s face hardened.

“We. Were. Wrong. Earlier this morning we encountered the first ever Redeemed soul.”

A pair of images of Sir Pentious appeared in the lower corners, his before and after.

Lute stared dumbfounded. Him? Redeemed? The same Sinner who got obliterated by Adam?

“What the fuck?!” Lute roared, her wingbeats weakening as she descended slowly.

Sera continued.

“With this information, we must make a formal decision, with permission from Adam’s next of kin, Abel.”

The camera turned to Abel, who was standing with a stern look for a moment too long.

“Oh? Am I on?” he asked, breaking the serious facade and reverting to a timid demeanor. “Sorry-sorry!” Abel cleared his throat, waving to the camera and then steepling his hands. “So, uhm… we have agreed that the Exterminations will be put on indefinite hiatus, like, right now. Any Exorcists will be asked to anonymously return to the Heavenly Council building to hand in their weapons and uniforms. So, y’know, come wearing your masks, girls. Once we’re sure you handed everything in we’ll just teleport ya back to Heaven and you can live your afterlives! I should really emphasize how sorry we are, this shouldn’t have even happened in the first place… I hope that you will not judge me or The High Seraphim too harshly for my father’s actions, but we understand if it will take forever to trust us again. We will do everything we can to fix that trust.”

Abel bowed deeply, clasping his hands in prayer as the video cut off.

Lute stood completely gobsmacked in the middle of a crowd of murmuring angels. In the same week, she lost the man she literally followed to Hell and back, and now her purpose, no chance for revenge, to return to an afterlife she and hundreds of others she fought alongside had long since forgotten.

With renewed rage, she took off at top speed towards the barracks. If Heaven wasn’t going to do anything, she will!

—---

Lute kicked her door in, stomping over to her tattered uniform and stripping down.

“I’ll kill them… I’ll kill them all myself if I have to…!” she snarled, slipping into her suit and making sure the box was with her. “To Hell what Sera says, to Hell what that chubby band major twink says! I’ll eviscerate their guts and pull out Charlie’s demonic spine through her ass while making her daddy and dyke watch!”

Holstering her sword she stepped out, seeing a group of Exorcists unmasked, all glaring at her.

“Well? Don’t you wanna go down there and finish the job?” she exclaimed, clenching her fist.

They all looked at one another, then back to Lute.

“About that,” one began, stepping out of the pack, she had a tall stature, with fire-red hair tied back in a long ponytail, singed at the tip just above her ankles. “while we’ve been throwing our numbers into the meatgrinder, you went off on a solo mission to fight that fallen bitch. That wouldn’t have been too much of an issue…” The Exorcist stepped forward, drawing her weapon, a trident. “Adam died, on your watch.”

“What?” Lute gasped. “No! Fuse, I was… I…”

“Because of you. We lost our leader.” Fuse stepped forward again, the prongs of her trident sparking against the ground. “We lost our perfect record. We lost our fucking lifestyle because you couldn’t keep yourself in check! You piece of shit!” Fuse spat.

Before Lute could move, she was restrained, her wings pinned against her body.

Fuse’s sneer turned into a smirk. “The girls and I have made up our minds, we’re gonna beat you down into you are just bruises and broken teeth. Lay her down,” she commanded, spinning her trident and impaling it in the ground while cracking her knuckles.

The two Exorcists forced Lute onto her belly as she struggled, screaming out for them to let her go. She felt her wings being forcibly spread then… pain…

Two spears simultaneously stabbed right through them, pinning her to the ground. Lute choked out a scream, trying to punch at the nearest Exorcist only for her forearm to get pieced too right between the bones, though missing any ligaments.

Fuse hummed a tune, then strained the note she was on with a fierce kick to Lute’s face. Her movements were graceful, fluid, as they should be as in life she was a professional ballerina. Each kick landed in sequence, finding its target with precision and brutal force. Lute felt her jaw break, heal, and break again in mere moments, her screams becoming weaker.

Spinning to imaginary music in her mind, the attacking Exorcist broke Lute’s spine with the wound-up force of her final kick to the neck.

Lute coughed, spitting out golden blood and taking a heaving gasp as her nervous system reconstituted. She tried to cry out, instead choking on her ichor in bubbling gurgles.

Fuse bowed to the gathered group who began clapping at her performance. “Thank you, thank you…! How about you all get your licks in while I prepare an encore, ladies? No Angelic Steel, that comes later.” She waggled her finger while strutting off into the barracks to procure something.

Obliging to her command, the group closed in like a pack of wolves, clawing, kicking, punching, biting. No inch of Lute’s body was safe.

No mercy as her legs were broken.

No mercy as her arm was twisted.

No mercy as her spine was fragmented.

Lute was swimming in and out of consciousness, the pain unbearable. Every time her eyes fluttered shut, a kick to her temple jolted her back into reality.

“Not gonna lie, breaking her’s getting boring already,” one of them commented, shaking off her bloodied hand. “Any other ideas until Fuse gets back?”

Another hopped giddily, raising her arm. “Ooh ooh! I know! Didja know Lute’s a virgin? Bitch was saving herself for Adam.”

Lute knew where they were going with this… she tried shaking her head. “N…No…!”

“Really? This bitch is a virgin? The whole time she hung around him and she didn’t get tapped? She always struck me as the kind of girl to flash her tits during a concert.”

“Uh-huh!”

Fuse waltzed out of the tent, carrying a phonograph and a table, the disc still inside the old musical contraption. She gave a playful pout to her battle-sisters. “You girls figured out the encore already? Eh, won’t change it being any less fun!”

She lifted her horned mask over her face, the stitched smile and eyes lighting up. Though now it bore X’s on both eyes.

The rest of the Exorcists wore their masks, all bearing the same edit. The darkness lit up with their stitched grins.

Humming joyfully, the red-haired Exorcist turned on the phonograph, and Tchaikovsky's Waltz of the Flowers started to play.

With grace, she leaped forward, landing on the tip of her grounded trident with her wings extended for balance. She signaled to two Exorcists. Wordlessly they pulled out the spears keeping Lute held down and lifted her in a full nelson while Fuse spun on one foot.

Before Lute could protest further, she was gagged with a perfectly sized stone and tape over it.

Fuse hopped off her trident, tugging it out the ground, and swiped it upwards, the prongs holding remnants of the inner legs of Lute’s uniform exposing her. Fuse spun the trident, now holding it with the blunt end facing forward. “Just close your eyes and think of Adam…!” she cackled, lunging forward with her sadistic machinations. 

Lute shut her eyes, tears cascading in shame and pain. 

 

It had been an hour, Lute hung limp against the iron grip of the two Exorcists keeping her still. Fuse sighed, bored with toying with her victim. “Unfortunately, you’re no fun anymore.” She eyed the blunt end of her trident, grimacing. “Gonna have to clean this with fire…”

Lute whined as her hair was grasped to raise her head and her eyes pried open.

Fuse was lighting up her trident with a hand conjuring flame. What made her a rarity among the ranks was she had access to magic, fire-attuned specifically. The lower half of the handle glowed white hot by the time she was done.

“Mmph…” Lute barely grunted, weakly scowling. She was ready for death. But what came instead was the final cherry on top of her suffering.

More of her former battle-sisters shoved her down, grasping her wings at the base. With sickening cracks, her wings were torn off at the sockets. The pain was unbearable even as the wounds began healing, up until the heated trident was pressed against the half-formed stumps, cauterizing them.

Her screams would have reached all the way to the Holy Court had she not been gagged.

Fuse smirked, proud of her handiwork. She reached down to Lute’s holstered sword and unsheathed it. “Fun fact, did you know Angelic Steel is such a pure material that melding it with inferior metals causes it to lose effectiveness? It’s why if you were to make a gun you would need to double the materials to make one bullet, which while inefficient would have been fun to use like that spider slut during the siege. And if you make every shot count.” She admired the blade briefly before breaking it in two with her knee, tossing the top half over her shoulder. “However as with any metal, it is malleable, and breakable if improperly used as a weapon. A sword is such a poor idea with such a thin edge… but hey! You’ll need it where you’re going, babe, even if it’s now a glorified dagger!” Fuse shrugged, giggling. “Hope you’re ambidextrous!”

Lute felt herself being dragged by the hair to the edge of the cloud, darkness below. Hell below. Her most hated person as of now heated the remains of the sword, picking up some dirt and cramming it into the blade with a clap. The former lieutenant’s sword was now functionally useless as a killer of Sinners.

“If you survive, send us a postcard!”

Unceremoniously, Lute was thrown over the edge, her sword and mask soon being thrown down after her.

The wind whipped around Lute’s battered body, her wing stumps flailing in desperation to fly as she ripped off the tape keeping that stone in her mouth. She cursed herself for being weak…

Lute reached up to the retreating light of Heaven, silently pleading for any kind of miracle she knew deep down in her soul would never come. Or come too late.

In her freefall, she managed to at the very least catch hold of her horned mask, wearing it and clutching her sword.

The garish lights of Pentagram City came into view, the ground fast approaching.

She saw the hotel in the outskirts, practically already fixed no doubt in part to Lucifer’s assistance. Her crumbling resolve renewed. Then she experienced the sudden feeling of her body crushing itself upon impact with a building’s roof.

Her bones slowly reformed, snapping back into place and soon all that was left of her impact was an outline of golden ichor and an indent. Lute lay there unmoving, gasping heavily as her punctured lungs began healing.

Sitting up with a strained grunt, she checked her pockets, tugging out the small metal box. Sighing with relief she placed it back. At the very least she could keep that safe from Fuse’s clutch. Lute looked over her shoulder at her new stumps, grimacing.

At this point, Lute was no stranger to pain. Every cell in her angelic body howled in defiance. The indent she left on the roof was almost comical. No doubt, Lute would have laughed if anyone else had made that impromptu art piece, especially if it had been a Sinner.      

Leaning over the edge she surveyed the streets below seeing Sinners, they were like miniatures going about their night. Far from the currying rats she was accustomed to seeing. She needed to get down and make her way to the hotel without being seen. If she were to be caught in her tattered uniform… she shuddered. She didn’t want to suffer through what Fuse did to her again so soon.

Weighing her options, Lute inspected her immediate surroundings. She took notice of a washing line with a slightly billowing duvet cover and just enough cloth to form a makeshift rope to rappel down into a nearby alley. She could tear off the rest at the bottom to act as an impromptu cloak.  

With the plan coming together, Lute started removing clothing, towels, and whatever else she could get her hands on and tying them into a single rope, with the duvet being the final thing tied onto the rope.   

Testing the strength of her lifeline, she rappeled down the side of the building, huffing with each floor descended. Her arm began to strain, fatigue from all that transpired catching up. “No no no no…!” Her grip slipped, falling the final few floors into the stony ground below. “A fall so nice I had to do it twice,” she grunted, stumbling against the building.

Using her broken sword, she cut the duvet off the rope and unfurled it, cloaking herself and walking out into the streets directly towards the hotel.

She was getting odd looks from Sinners as if her disguise wasn’t fooling them. Or she just looked ridiculous running around like a knockoff ninja. So long as they weren’t getting in her way they could be taking pictures of the outline of her ass for all she cared.

Lute could see the gate coming into view. “Oh come on…” she panted. She was too tired to leap and too weak to climb the gate or the surrounding wall. Her only option was to pray the gate was… 

Click.

…Unlocked. Did that eye on the central tower just blink?

Lute stepped in, the gate swinging closed behind her.

“I’m… gonna… kill… you…!” she wheezed, stumbling every other step. 

She didn't care if she died, she was already damned.

“Kill… you…”

Her black halo began to fizzle, scattering into glowing sprites. Her fall was complete.  

Lute collapsed at the front door, her vision blurring before exhaustion took her. The last thing she heard before fully losing consciousness was the muffled voices of a studio audience rapidly approaching with the slight whine of radio static. Then silence.

Chapter Text

“Follow the pen,” a short goat-like demon requested, holding a fountain pen in his hooves.

Lute followed the pen, stealing glances at the group of Charlie, Vaggie, Angel Dust, Cherri Bomb, and Niffty nearby.

She gasped as the cold metal of a stethoscope was slipped beneath her shirt, instinctively she tried reaching down to break the doctor’s hand.

No chance with the cuffs. Grumbling the angel accepted the discomfort.

Pleased with the results, the doctor tucked his pen away into a white coat pocket and removed his stethoscope. “Well, she’s not delirious from blood loss and the wounds are healing nicely. Heart rate and breathing are back to normal, taking into account patient irritation.” He spoke with a lazy lethargic tone which grated on Lute’s ears.

“Cool, can I get up now?” Lute sighed, tugging at the cuffs. “Or at least a longer chain for my arm.”

After Lute’s breakdown, Charlie had called in a specialist from the Sloth ring to perform a checkup. However, Lute was less than pleased with the need to be bound to her bed like an asylum inmate until she was considered no longer a threat to others, or herself. Her belly was scarred beyond belief, though they did begin fading.

Lute scowled at the group’s hesitance to consider her request.

“Seriously. My nose itches.”

“Not a chance,” Vaggie retorted, “Not until you give us some answers. For starters, why did you try to kill Niffty and then stop?”

Niffty piped up, idly dusting a nearby chair. “Yeah! I’m not even Lebanese!” She still thought the murder attempt was a love gesture.

“Lesbian, Niff,” Angel Dust corrected with a chuckle.

Vaggie wearily glared at the two before rolling her eye.

“I wanted to avenge Adam…” the bound angel answered, clenching her fist.

“Okay… in hindsight dumb question, but the second half still stands.” Vaggie eased up once she felt Charlie’s hand on her shoulder. “Why did you try to kill yourself? That’s not like you…”

“Sure, my answer is fuck you that’s why.”

Vaggie groaned, swearing up a small storm in Spanish.

“Should I leave now…?” the doctor whispered to the princess.

“Yeah, sorry for the short notice Dr. Tine…” Charlie whispered back. “I’ll have Dad call Aunti Bel if she gets worse.”

Nodding, Dr. Tine hopped off the stool he was using to reach the bed and faced away, bleating like a sheep and conjuring a portal to the Sloth ring just in front of St. An’s Hospital. The portal vanished after he skipped through.

“Shame we can’t travel between Rings,” Cherri commented, leaning against the wall.

Charlie chuckled, “Well, Hellborn don’t exactly have the immortality Sinners or Angels have. For their own protection they live in other rings, though according to Dad stuff does get kind of hectic. Especially in the Envy Ring… gang wars and in his words; 'Godfather wannabe bullshit.'”

“You done with your tantrum, Vaggie?” Lute stared bemused. Her use of the soft ‘g’ had the other angel glaring.

“Vaggie. Hard ‘g’,” Vaggie growled. “Now spill it, why’d you try to kill yourself?”

Before Lute could retort with another snide comment, she saw Charlie’s concerned face. That confused her more than anything.

Why is she still showing care towards me?

Lute grunted, looking down at herself. Her belly was bandaged over despite the wounds having long since closed, but scarred. On a minor note she was also irritated due to the lack of her abs, she was shirking her training to sulk and plan out that assassination attempt, hoping to just off herself when she murdered the maid. She felt a muffin top coming on, and her thighs... the angel scowled at herself. Weak and out of shape, lovely...

“Fuck it… if I tell you, will you at least let me use my arm again?” Lute sighed, letting her head land back into her pillow.

“Fine,” Vaggie quickly compromised. “But only if you join Charlie's workshop today. It’s expressive art so I expect you to do something more than doodling a stick figure stabbing a red one.”

“Vaggiiiie!” Charlie whined, not wanting to bribe someone into getting better.

“Sorry hon, but she won’t do it unless we give her incentive…”

Seeing no other option but to go along with this asinine request, Lute grunted, “...Throw in a bowl of Jambalaya and you got a Deal…” She had gained quite a taste for the spicy dish made by Alastor, as much as she loathed that fact.

“Ok, it’s a start- Jambalaya? Really?” Vaggie nearly got thrown off track by the odd request. She looked over at Angel, Cherri, and Niffty, nodding to the door. This was something confidential.

Lute inhaled through her nose, then exhaled. Once she was sure everyone but Charlie and Vaggie were gone she began.

“I wanted to die because I’m a failure. I fucked up and Adam’s dead because I went after you. Because I fucked up I got beaten and violated by who I thought were comrades in arms.” She clenched her fist, trying to curl up and hide the tears forming in the corners of her eyes. “They threw me out of Heaven because I made a mistake… Angels aren’t supposed to make mistakes yet I made one so bad it made Lucifer’s blunder with the apple look like a slip on a banana peel compared to letting the First Man die, the only person I would die for and he’s gone because I made a mistake! The only person I would have let... take me...”

She paused to choke down a cough, trying to hold it together.

“I still see him, and myself almost every night. In the mirror, in the reflection of my sword. I can still hear myself telling me how I deserve oblivion.”

Lute’s body shuddered with sobs while Charlie's eyes darted to the ajar closet, shuffling over to nudge it shut.

“I bet you’re fucking loving this… the big bad genocidal angel getting what she deserves!”

“Nobody deserves this,” Vaggie whispered, her soft tone surprising even herself. “Mistakes happen, you don’t need to let them define who you are. You can learn from them, but locking yourself in and going psycho isn’t going to help anyone.”

Lute looked away.

“Then what do I deserve?”

Vaggie couldn’t find the words, she racked her brain for anything to say. She had her own biases against the ex-lieutenant.  

Charlie came to the rescue though with her cheerful brand of optimism. “You deserve a second chance. I want you to be the best version of yourself, someone I could forgive for the pain she put everyone through. This hotel doesn’t just rehabilitate Sinners, you know. We’ve started rehabilitating Angels.”

Lute looked back at Charlie, confused. “Since when?”

The princess chuckled, holding up the key to the cuffs on Lute’s wrist. “Since now.”

The bound angel suppressed a sheepish laugh at how corny that was, instead smirking.

I walked right into that one, huh?

Vox was seated on his favorite swiveling chair in his office, running the numbers. He grumbled, hearing his pet sharks thrash in the water. “Alright, already!” he groaned, throwing his hands up. “Feeding time!”

He rolled up his sleeves after removing his suit jacket, trudging his way to the edge of the aquarium for a bucket of chum resting on the ground.

The TV Overlord continued grumbling while ascending a ladder. “Can’t get a moment to count my cash with you guys…”   

At the top he dumped the contents of the bucket into the water, the depths of which became bathed in crimson.

Vox’s grouchy demeanor shifted to amusement at the feeding frenzy. “Oh you like that flavor?” he cooed his pets. “I’ll be sure to hire more interns.”

His head shook, and a call symbol appeared on his screen. Valentino was calling—no, wait… it was a group call request with Velvette, too. He tapped his face.

“Voxy have I got some dirt for you!” Valentino began. “We’re talking big bucks and ratings!”

“Uh-huh?” Vox answered, disinterested. It's probably some new hair-brained flick with Angel Dust. He slid down the ladder and unrolled his sleeves to re-adjust the cufflinks

“You remember that Angel that attacked the hotel?” Velvette asked, hoping to build anticipation.

“Adam?”

“No the angry one, Lute, I think?”

Vox wore his suit jacket, dusting off his shoulder while continuing to watch the feeding frenzy. “Lute.. Lute…” he repeated. His eyes widened as he finally knew who they were talking about. “What about her? Don’t tell me the bi-yearly Exterminations are gonna still be a thing?”

“Nope!” The fashionista chuckled. “Bitch got her arse kicked out of Heaven, she’s staying in the blonde princess’s hotel! Can you believe it? Two Angels living under the same roof and they both hate each other.”

“Mmm, hate-sex does sound kinda hot though,” the moth-pimp chuckled, already mentally filing ideas of Vaggie and Lute.

Vox’s interest was piqued. Angels were a hot commodity. No. The commodity. The failed Extermination has opened a lot of business opportunities, more profitable than his phony VoxTek Angelic Security and this Lute character may just be the biggest payday The Vees have seen in years. The problem is she’s holed up in that pansy-ass hotel…

“I’ll have surveillance focused on the hotel, if the Angel ever leaves, we will know. Then we make our move. I’ll also have the tech-geeks work on one of my newest VoxTek phone blueprints, see if we can’t have Lute be customer zero.”

“I’ll get to work on a new clothing line!” Velvette cackled giddily.

“Hmm, I could order in some of the Fizzbots from Greed and you can reformat them to look like Lute,” Valentino purred. 

“Do we have it in our budget?” Vox questioned, taking his seat once more.

“We could order ten as a test and charge a premium saying they’re collector’s items before full-scale production if budget’s an issue?” Valentino’s voice then went from charming to snarky. “If Velvette’s outfits also pull their weight to make up for the shortage.”

Velvette scoffed. “First of all, fuck you, my works are exquisite. My outfits’ll be ready by next week.”

Vox spun around in his chair, the red mist of blood and chunks of intern chum now a distant memory in his aquarium. “Both of you shut the fuck up… just keep production on the down-low with manufactured leaks through Sinstagram to build hype. We’ll make our move after we get Lute to use this phone and we’ll have all the data we need. THEN we go into advertising.”

He hung up, noticing a hand on the floor by his desk. Smirking he leaned down to pick up the stray meat from his pets’ lunch and casually threw it over the edge, watching the sharks fight over the morsel with a wide electrified grin.

Chapter Text

In the refurbished parlor, Charlie’s workshop was taking place, a simple task; express yourself with paintings. Or draw them with whatever.

Charlie stood in the middle of a semi-circle, her easel facing away from the group with a smaller one nearby for Razzle. From left to right, it was Alastor, Niffty, Husk, Angel Dust, Cherri Bomb, Lucifer, and finally Lute. Vaggie was seated in the corner with a sketchbook.

Alastor never really participated in Charlie’s workshops, but the radio demon did enjoy a good painting and wanted to flex his superiority over Lucifer who was also attending, fidgeting over the finer details of his own painting.

Despite being ambidextrous, Lute was never much of an artist, her skill and craft had been forcibly retired. She placed her pen in her mouth to make use of the paintbrush and began dabbing it in certain places.

Lucifer leaned over, arching his eyebrow at Lute’s drawing. He immediately pretended he wasn’t when the angel scowled at him.

Cherri and Angel chuckled over their respective pieces. The cyclops bombshell was holding up one of her defused shells for reference in her little piece. “You’d think drawin’ a circle would be easy. Had to erase mine a few times before gettin’ it right.”

“Yeah, art is pretty crazy, ya get the shit you wanna draw in your head, but your hands just don’t listen.” Angel Dust was making use of all his extra limbs for his piece.

“Oy, pass me the paint bucket, the purple one.”

One of the spider’s arms lifted the small bucket of paint to which Cherri dunked her hand in and slammed her palm onto her canvas.

Angel whistled. “Not bad, sugar-tits!”

Alastor admired his piece, giving it a chef’s kiss. “Now this is art! What have you drawn up, my dear?”

He leaned down to see Niffty’s work. His eyes widened as his grin almost faltered while standing upright, a short screech of radio static.

“It’s… expressive.” He patted her head curtly, hiding the revulsion.

Niffty bounced between her feet, giggling.

An egg timer set aside rung, signaling the end of the session.

“Alright, gang!” Charlie cheered. “Let’s show off those beautiful works!”

Lute glowered at her own piece, unsure if she should even show it. Time flew by so quickly when she was so focused she didn’t even realize what she had drawn until it was finished. She tilted her easel away, praying the princess would just pass her by while the group gathered.

Charlie spins her easel around with a ‘ta-da’ pose. Crayons, of course.

Her piece was of everyone in the room, ascending to Heaven hand-in-hand with a rainbow bridge. It was perfectly on-brand.

Lucifer conjured a few extras of himself as a studio audience applauding, irritating Alastor who responded with his own radio-themed applause with summoned shadows to one-up the king of Hell.

“You two are children,” Vaggie grumbled.

“Let’s see if your piece is any better than my Char-Char’s!” Lucifer pouted, crossing his arms.

Wordlessly, the radio-demon turned his easel, a self-portrait of himself, holding a self-portrait of himself ad-infinitum. It was as if he took a photo of this very moment. His yellowed grin widened smugly.

“Woah, trippy…!” Angel commented.

Niffty clapped furiously. “Yay! Boss is awesome! My turn my turn! My fantasy!”

She swiveled hers, only to be met with looks of stunned silence.

“Woh-hoh! Okay! That’s just tentacle porn!” Charlie stammered, covering her eyes.

“How does she manage to fit them…?” Angel commented, rubbing his belly uneasily.

Lute stared mouth agape, whispering quietly to herself. “Adam died to her… Adam died to her… Adam died to her.”

Husk dragged his palm over his face. “Let’s just move this along before we all lose our breakfast, here.” He stepped to the side, his painting a depiction of himself as the King of Hearts in a poker playing card.

“Hmm, I think Joker wouldn’t have suited you better, Husker, my man,” Alastor quipped.

Husk grumbled.

“Well I think it’s lovely” Charlie exclaimed. “And I love what you two made, very…explosive?” She was taking a look at Cherri and Angel’s paintings.

Cherri had drawn her bomb shell in pieces with the purple splotch resembling an explosion.

“What can I say? I’m a girl of habit. So’s this glorious wanker.”

Angel and Cherri shared a high-five.

The spider’s piece was an accordion held in a web with the cross-bones of Tommy guns.

Lute suddenly felt self-conscious about her work, she shifted away from the group to stand between them and her easel now facing the wall, rubbing her shoulder. The last time she felt this awkward was her first ever training session, finding her talents. She watched from a distance as Lucifer presented his work with a kazoo fanfare.
A red apple with the shiny skin reflecting the Royal Family with Charlie holding the item.

Seeing Lilith in the painting had the angel wince a little. She debated on telling Charlie where her mother was and why, but… she simply saw no point. She was already an outcast for her actions as Adam’s lieutenant, the last thing she wanted was to experience Lucifer’s wrath for withholding such important information this long. He scared the shit out of her. Would it be better to tell them now rather than have Lilith spill the beans when she calls or worse yet arrive unannounced? Charlie would be so disappointed, why did she care to disappoint someone she attacked? Maybe because Charlie took the initiative to save Lute after her mental breakdown? Or perhaps she was the only voice to defend her when she fell? 

Fuck, fuck, fuck…

“Lute?”

Maybe if I break it to her in private?

“Hell to Lute?”

Or… maybe I just blurt it out? No too stupid…

“Lute!”

Broken out of her trance, Lute looked up. Charlie was waving her hand in front of her face.

“Sorry, just, a lot on my mind,” Lute sighed.

Fuck it, now or never.

“I have a confession, and I hope you won’t be too mad if I tell you now.”

Charlie tilted her head while Razzle waddled over behind Lute to peek at her drawing. “What’s wrong?” she asked, concerned.

“...I…” Lute tried to speak, but her throat felt like it was caught in a vice. Beads of sweat were forming on her brow. “I… I”

“Aye aye aye, out with it, hoe!” Cherri groaned.

Lute clenched her fist, finally screaming, “I know where your mother is!”

The room fell quiet, the hiss of radio static playing over the stunned group.

Lucifer uttered, “You… knew where Lilith was?” His face was grim, glaring right at Lute. “This whole time?” His chest was heaving with barely restrained fury, eyes shifting to crimson.

“I-I… yes…”

The king inhales, trying to hold it together. He points to each individual in the room besides Charlie, Vaggie, and Razzle. “You, you, you, you and you. Everyone I pointed to, leave the room. I want to have an important discussion with her.”

“Oh come now, Big L.” Alastor leaned on his cane. “We’re just as interested in hearing about this.”

Not wanting to take any bullshit right now, Lucifer spun on his heel facing Alastor and pointed to the door leading out of the parlor. His horns grew, all six wings flared, his halo manifested, and fire began spewing out the corners of his mouth. “NOW.” His horns retreated. “Please.”

Lute gulped.

Dejavu.

The group all clamoured to get out with Alastor nonchalantly strolling behind them while twirling his cane. Once they all left, the doors shut.

Lucifer turned his attention to Lute. “Explain.”

“Dad…” Charlie whispered, placing her hand on his to help calm him down. She looked to the angel, slightly hurt but willing to hear her out. “Lute, please tell us everything. I need to know why mom’s missing…”

“No secrets,” Vaggie added, crossing her arms. “We want details.”

Razzle stayed quiet, inspecting Lute’s painting and nodded in a ‘not bad’ gesture, mentally checked out of the ensuing interrogation.

Lute spilled everything she knew about Lilith. The deal, the ban on communication, the transference of leadership to Abel and the uprising in Heaven from the Exterminations becoming public knowledge due to Adam’s death. The only detail she left out would be that of Sir Pentious’s redemption. She figured that would come later when this more pressing matter was attended to. The more she talked, the calmer Lucifer got, his intimidating form receding back into the Willy Wonka-esque goofball. Soon enough he, Charlie, and Vaggie were easing up on their questions, now asking for mundane details. The tense atmosphere evaporated in a short matter over the few hours spent in the parlor.

Lucifer was sitting backwards on a chair, holding the back of it like he was a jockey. His daughter and her girlfriend were sandwiching Lute on the couch. “And you’re telling me she was still wearing the wedding ring?” He asked with a gleeful squeak.

“As far as I can tell.” Lute rubbed her throat, a short chuckle escaping her lips. “At least I think she was when she was choking me.” 

That was a good enough answer for the king, his demongelic aspect flaring up with barely contained excitement. She still loved him!
 
“Why tell us about this now?” Vaggie asked. “You had a whole month and a half since coming here.”

Lute looked over at her missing wings. “Two reasons, I was still bitter about you all and…” She froze, trying not to remember.

“You were still recovering from what happened to you,” Charlie finished, gently placing her hand on Lute’s thigh.

Lucifer grimaced with disgust at the idea of rapists. “I swear, Asmodeous would have turned that Fuse bitch into a condom if he ever got his hands on her.”

“Why would the Sin of Lust care about consent?” Lute questioned, barely registering the odd form of punishment. “I though the way of Sins were that they reflected the most negative aspects of Heavenly Virtues?”

“Nah, sure they represent their titles in excess, but Ozzie is like… the complete opposite of whoever that Valentino is that the pornstar complains about. He values consent and is in a monogomous relationship with an imp last I heard when I caught up.”

“Huh… so he’s just spicy?” Lute chuckled. The idea of such a high ranking demon however in a committed relationship with a common Imp was quite perplexing, it would be like if someone of Sera’s rank dated a Cherub.

“Pretty fuckin’ much!”

Lucifer and Lute shared their short laugh.

The laugh was cut short as the king pointed to Lute. “Seriously though, the only one I’d watch out for is Satan, that asshole is such a prick!”

“Ugh! I know!” Vaggie cut in, “He’s only ever a teddy bear when Charlie’s around but treats his subjects with an iron fist! You think Sinners have it bad, but the Imps? At least Sinners come back from getting their head lopped off. You should have seen his face when Lucifer actually walked into that meeting room! Maybe watch out for Mammon, he’s pretty full of himself.”

Prior to taking residence in the hotel, Lucifer had to make his return official through a meeting with the other Sins. Though he did request they keep his re-appearance rumors amongst the Hellborn and Goetic Demons until he was truly ready to return as king, wanting to be there for Charlie as a father first and foremost.  

“You’re telling me this as if I’m allowed to walk between Rings, let alone this building,” Lute commented with a roll of her eyes. She patted her thigh awkwardly, not sure where to take this conversation. “So uhm…” Lute looked toward Charlie. “Thanks for the workshop.”

She looked down, almost embarrassed by the late gratitude, noticing her belly wasn’t as lean as when she first came.

“Does this place have a gym?”

Vaggie smirked, cracking her knuckles. “Yup. If you want I can whip you back into shape. I won’t be gentle.”

“Don’t be. I might not be a warrior of Heaven, but I still am a warrior.”

“Ooh I’ll join too!” Charlie chirped.

“Well, you girls have fun!” Lucifer conjured his cane, tapping it on the floor. He vanished with a puff of white smoke and purple sparkles. His voice continued to echo. “I gotta look my best for when she calls!”

Sign, file, send, receive, repeat.

It was monotonous work even for the most pencil-pusher kind of personality. But it had to be done.

Sign, file, send, receive, repeat.

The stack never ends, and always grows. But she felt responsible for seeing them through. It was her responsibility as High Seraphim to ensure all needs within reason were met. She trusted no one but herself to do it.

Sign… file… send… receive… repeat…

Sera lifted the finished stack from her desk and handed them to a dove-like Cherub who while straining from the weight dutifully went about his task to prepare for sending to their intended recipients. She sighed, her head sinking into her hands. A knock at the door to her office startled the High Seraphim.

“Oh! Come in!” she called out, sitting upright.

She feared it would be a new stack of paperwork. She felt like she needed rest…

Her hidden dismay vanished almost instantly when Abel peeked in through the door with a wave, followed by Emily peeking just above as if she were resting upon his shoulders. “Good afternoon!” he exclaimed. “We brought hot cocoa!”

Bless this strange little man. How such a kind soul could come from someone as disrespectful and bloodthirsty as Adam was beyond Sera.

Emily fluttered into the room, holding a cupholder with four cups of various sizes. “Today’s been pretty uneventful. Thankfully,” she sighed, placing the cupholder on Sera’s desk. “The Winners have been demanding Sir Pentious make more public appearances, they love the little guy and how adorkably awkward he is.”

“Mhm, oh yeah,” Abel agreed with a nod. “Good vibes.”

Sera took her cup, noting the misspelling on the side as ‘Sarah’ with an amused smirk. Even in Heaven…

“Hm.” She sipped her cup, savoring the taste. “The serpent inventor has proven himself to be truly worthy of Heaven. I hope more souls find their way in due time.” She raised the cup again to her lips.

“I couldn’t agree more,” an elegant voice cut through, picking up the fourth cup.

Sera almost spat out her drink seeing Lilith standing there, towering over the other two guests wearing her regal dress. Minus the horns of course to not frighten the locals.

“What? No hello?” Lilith giggled, sipping her latte.

The High Seraphim’s dilated pupils locked onto Abel with all of her eyes opening and wings flaring. He just comically shrugged.

“Sorry,” he whispered. “But a contract’s a contract. It wouldn’t be very virtuous of me to go back on my word.

Placing her cup down, Sera already feels a new headache coming on. “Did you at least run this by the rest of the High Council…?” she muttered, her plethora of eyes closing.

“That’s kind of why she’s here. I’m gonna make a case for her that she be allowed to return to Hell on the condition that her daughter act as ambassador between Heaven and Hell. With Sir Pentious being our main piece of evidence that what she is doing works, thus proving she could be a reliable envoy between the two realms.”

“My idea!” Emily giggled.

“Her idea,” Lilith and Abel said in sync, gesturing to the excitable young Seraphim.

“Wait…” Sera gulped. “Something big as this demands ‘his’ direct presence.”

“Uhm, yup!” Emily said with a smile. “Uncle Michael is visiting!”

“Saint Michael The Archangel,” Sera corrected sternly. “Or Saint Micheal or ‘SIR’ for short.” She put extra emphasis on the word ‘sir’.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Abel reassured. “He’s a pretty chill guy, bit stern but fair. Dunno why you’re so scared of him though, aren’t you like… leagues above him?”

Sera fixed Abel with a grim expression. “Abel, Saint Michael is the one who DEFEATED Lucifer, the Angel who sent him to Hell. He has earned his place above me in the natural order several times over for that feat alone.”

Emily and Abel gulped in unison.

Lilith finished her cup, blipping it out of existence with a flick of her wrist before it rematerialized above the wastebasket nearby and fell in. “I must agree with Sera, even if it is Michael, an Archangel is here to oversee my hearing, we must take this as seriously as a mortal does a funeral. Especially if it’s the very same Archangel who bested my dear Luci.”

“Fucking thank you!” Sera threw her arms up, clasping her mouth at the swear that escaped her lips, blushing. Recovering she cleared her throat, grace returning to her complexion despite Abel and Emily's childish giggles. “Not the analogy I’d use but yes, utmost seriousness.”

The High Seraphim agreeing with the Queen of Hell, what has the Universe come to?

“When’s the hearing?”

Abel stopped his shared giggle fit and pulled up his sleeve to check his watch. “Uhm…, in around like… a week?”

Sera nodded, that was enough time to finish her current paperwork and brief the Redeemed soul currently taking residence in her home. “Alright… please go and prepare. I’ll meet up with you at the court at the agreed time a week from now.”

Despite being leagues greater in rank than Michael, Sera feared and respected the mightiest warrior of Heaven. One who could best the fallen Seraphim Lucifer was not to be trifled with.

Chapter Text

“Flex that bicep!” Vaggie demanded. “One arm less is no excuse to be less!”

Lute groaned, pulling a dumbbell up to her chest.

The gym of the Hazbin Hotel was a new addition. Requested by Vaggie specifically for health workshops or general routine. It was spacious, with treadmills, bikes and elliptical runners lined up facing a mirror wall, the weight equipment on the other side with mat corners.

Lute and Vaggie wore a matching pair of outfits, both from the same closet; a tight pair of grey shorts and sleeveless crop tops.

“I SAID FLEX, SOLDIER! WE’VE BEEN OVER THIS FOR THREE DAYS AND YOU CAN’T GIVE ME FIFTY BICEP CURLS?!” Vaggie roared, digging deep into her training days from experience. 

The golden-eyed angel glared at no one in particular, then flexed her bicep to bend her elbow. The dumbbell finally reached her chin. “Fucking fifty… did it!”

She dropped the weight, panting, her shoulder burning and sweat dripping from her brow.

Charlie was nearby, dressed in a cerise leotard with pink fuzzy leg and arm warmers, and a sweatband. She was getting a cardio dance routine in while also making sure her girlfriend didn’t go full drill sergeant. Angel Dust wanted to tag along to see how funny this would be, naturally, to him, it was downright hilarious. He wore a black jumpsuit and was performing calisthenics to keep his six arms limber. They both had been overseeing this strange new routine over the past three days, even if Lute usually confined herself to her room most hours she did take up Vaggie’s offer after her talk with Lucifer.

“You got this!” she cheered, offering moral support.

“Break a wing!” Angel added.

Vaggie smirked, crossing her arms while staring down. “Not bad, I see you’ve still got muscle definition for one arm.”

“And you’ve got a good eye for someone missing one…” Lute retorted with her own smirk towards her coach.

“We’ll see how good that arm will do you when you’re doing pushups.”

“Oh? You think I can’t?”

Both angels' competitive spirits flared, getting in each other's faces.

“Girls!” Charlie pleaded, running between them. “Please let’s not take this-”

“Yeah. Just fuck already.” Angel goaded while approaching with his usual smirk, getting nudged in the gut by Charlie. “Hehe!”

“You, me, sparring ring,” Lute challenged.

Vaggie nodded.

Lute and Vaggie were staring each other down like it was an MMA pre-fight smack talk. Clearly, they weren’t going to be listening and were settled on this impromptu battle.

“Noooo…” The princess whined.

On the spot, like a sudden switch was flipped, the angels were suddenly discussing rules for their fight like a pair of professors.

Vaggie was counting on her fingers. “No hair pulling, wing-twisting, and no biting.”

“Mhm…mhm…” Lute nodded with her hand resting on her chin, raising her finger. “I can’t help but notice those rules are beneficial only to you. My hair isn’t easily pulled as yours and I have no fucking wings. Biting I can get behind being disallowed.”

“Hairpulling on the menu, then?”

“Yup.”

Vaggie pointed to her opponent’s stump of a left arm. “You want me to tie an arm behind my back to make it a fair fight?”

“Vaggie… we’re not animals, of course not, I want to beat you with only one arm with no handicaps on your end. How else could I prove I’m stronger than you even with just one arm? Also no flying, you bind them and make use of your natural agility like a true warrior.”

“Deal.”

Charlie squinted at the odd exchange, her brain dialing up to make sure she was in the same plane of existence. She wanted Lute and Vaggie to get along, but like this was just so bizarre. She was snapped out of her daze when the angels marched over to a corner with a small boxing ring.

“Wait-wait-wait! Please reconsider!” Charlie sprinted after them.

“Sorry, babe.” Vaggie waved over her shoulder. “But this will be for the best, trust me. You can ring the bell to start us off if you want.”

“Oh shit you broads actually doin’ this?” the spider cackled, “I’ll commentate!”

The princess pouted, crossing her arms with a ‘humph’. There was no convincing them to back down at this point and Angel Dust was enabling it, she may as well play along. “Fine…”

The Angels settled into their corners, psyching themselves up.

Charlie looked around, trying to find the bell. “Bell… bell… bell… ah! There it is!” She picked up a small mallet resting next to a round bell on a table. “Go!” she signaled, dinging the device twice. She and Angel Dust sat next to each other to spectate the brawl.

On the signal, Lute and Vaggie began sprinting full speed towards one another. Lute swung first, missing as her opponent ducked, landing an uppercut right to the gut.

“And they’re off!” Angel commentated.”Lute with a swing and a miss with Vaggie givin’ her a tummy-ache!”

Lute felt the wind get knocked right out of her. But making use of this situation she retaliated with a headbut, sending the other angel reeling.  “Ah, shit!” Vaggie grunted, holding her nose which began dripping golden ichor. Headbutting was most certainly on the table.

“Ooh! First blood!” The spider cheered.

“Uhm… wow… two clean hits for each,” Charlie commented, then winced from the sound of another impact. “And another…” Her eyes widened as she witnessed her girlfriend lift Lute and perform a perfectly executed powerbomb. She scrambled for the mallet to hit the bell and end the round, freezing mid-swing at the angels pausing to glare at her.

“Alright alright! Jeeze…” Charlie dropped the mallet.

Angel patted her shoulder reassuringly. “Don’t worry, dollface, this is good for em.” He quickly switched back to commentator mode. “Vaggie with the powerbomb and ready to mount! Kinky!”

Vaggie attempted to mount Lute to continue her assault, only to have her waist locked between their thighs in a scissor lock. 

“Nuh-uh!” Lute mocked, twisting her hips to swap positions so she was on top.

“And Lute with the classic scissor lock turnaround! Tripod’s really got cyclops on the ropes!”

Despite the brutality of their sparring match, Charlie could see that the angels were smiling. It then dawned on her, what better way to bond with a fellow warrior? Each fist to the face a conversation, each kick to the liver an apology. It defied all conventional logic, but the results were undeniable, much like the time Vaggie took the group to the Doomsday District to build teamwork. Maybe Angel Dust was right, this was good for them.

Strutting through the fashion department’s studio of V Tower, Velvette was passing by a line of models all dressed in varying versions of Angelic attire. She herself was dressed in her favorite designer ensemble; a navy blue sleeveless sweater with a heart-shaped cutout at the sternum, exposing cleavage. The pantswear involved ocean blue bell-bottom jeans ending in heeled sandals with white pom-poms at the ankles. For today’s hairstyle, was a braided ponytail, an off-center black Basque Beret resting on her head.

“Shit, shit, shit,” she belted off, pausing to look one up and down, tapping her chin before shaking her head. “Not a chance.”

She was trying to find the perfect variant of the attire she had in mind. The reformatted bots won’t dress themselves, and the new line needed to be done by the end of the week as she promised. She shuddered, already picturing Vox’s tantrum. Velvette pulled out her phone, rapidly tapping in sequence through several fake alternative accounts to drum up rumors about Vox’s new phone on Sinstagram.

A pair of models exchanged looks, too scared of the fashionista to move. Were they dismissed? Was she calling up Valentino to offer up the worst of them all to him as punishment for not keeping up to appearance standards? Velvette was rarely transparent about her needs, her demands, however…

“The fuck you lot standing around for? Get back to the changing rooms and put on the next batch. Now!” She clapped twice. “Chop chop!”

…crystal clear.

Left alone in her studio she passed the time by inspecting herself in a makeup mirror, touching up her lipstick, glowering.

That Angel was putting a crease in her regular schedule. And for what? For Vox to most likely use Lute to access this po-dunk hotel’s power grid and spy on her or probably to feed his weird obsession over Alastor.

Valentino was aiming to make Lute his newest toy at her lowest, there was no question about that. Angel porn would drive profits up the roof but felt in poor taste even for Velvette.

And Velvette? Sure she was getting her cut of the profits. But where was the end-goal fulfillment? She wasn't even satisfied with the dresses for this new line. Furiously she caused a few conflicts in the comments of her posts using alt accounts to rage-bait. That helped a little.

She heard her models returning to the studio and lined up for inspection. Her eyes darted between them, her scowl growing deeper.

“Wait…” Velvette paused on one outfit in particular. “You, stand, now.”

The trembling model, a demon with a Venus Flytrap for a ponytail shuffled forward, stepping up on the stand.  

“Pose,” Velvette demanded.

The model posed without question at her Overlord’s simple command.

Velvette strut around the model like a lioness scouting prey, her heels clicking against the floor rhythmically. 

The outfit was a variation of an Exorcist’s body suit, remade to fulfill Hell’s sensibilities. The grey tunic was shortened exposing the midriff, with the sleeves completely removed. The leggings were replaced with tight pants, cutouts at the outer thighs just below the belt to the knees exposing the hips. Lastly, Velvette did away with the gloves and boots altogether, with thick silver bandles at the ankles and wrists and knee-length heeled platform boots.

“Hmm… we’re gettin’ there…” She swiped right on the top, it swapping out to essentially the same but with the back exposed, the front of the outfit being held up by a choker resembling the old neckpiece.

It looked stylish, it looked slutty, it looked perfect. “Bingo!”

Velvette stared for a little too long, imagining Lute in the outfit. The thought of someone with Lute’s presence and attitude from the live broadcast of the siege in the outfit just did something for her. She caught herself blushing in one of the many mirrors, biting her lip with a half-lidded gaze. Clearing her throat she glared at the remaining models.

“Right, if any of you lot say anything about that to anyone, I’ll have you licking the floors of Val’s studio clean for the week! And this month’s genre is German-themed…”

Her models looked at one another, shivering in fear. With a snap of their boss's fingers, they filed out, including the model in the winning dress. Velvette glared at herself in the mirror, questioning what came over her. The last time she fantasized like that was back when she was alive. Was she getting soft? No. Her prior threat was more of a promise than anything, she was still the queen bitch of Pentagram City. 

"Do I have a type?" she asked herself. She had never even met Lute, but something told her it wouldn't hurt to since the angel's been disarmed in more than one sense of the word.

"Nah..." Velvette scoffed, pulling out her phone to continue her rapid-text barrage of false rumors, sulking to herself. 

Well... maybe I do...

Lute and Vaggie exchanged a punch to their jaws, the fists holding their place. “Give up?” Vaggie hissed.

“Never!” Lute growled.

They broke apart, bruised and bleeding slightly from already healed wounds. Charlie was struggling to keep her eyes open, the adrenaline of watching the drawn-out fight having worn off a good while ago. Angel Dust was already passed out, feet resting on the table.   

“Alright, well before we continue I do have some pointers…”

“Pointers?”

Vaggie nodded. “You fight like I’m prey and not an opponent. That can get you killed, or… well, you know from experience.” The angel lifted her own left arm, imitating a chopping motion on her bicep with her right.

Scowling, Lute rolled her eyes. “Ok? Is there a point you’re trying to make?”

“Yes,” Vaggie began, “I’m going to show you what I learned to fight you.”

With a grunt, Lute readied herself and then froze. Her opponent was approaching with leaping graceful steps like…

No…

NO. NO. NO.

The world closed in on her until all she saw was Fuse approaching in a dark void, the sadistic bitch’s trident sparking against the floor with an echoing humming to the tune of Dance of The Sugarplum Fairy. X’s and stitched grins lit up the mirror wall behind a black mass of Exorcists. No matter where her eyes darted to, it was the same. Lute’s heart hammered in her chest, breathing heavily.

She tried to move, but her body felt heavy like lead had replaced her bones.

“Tough break, danger-tits!” Adam’s voice echoed, stepping out of the black mask with his wings beating. “Guess ballet really isn’t your day.” He paused, considering if what he said made sense. “Eh, whatever!” 

He landed between Fuse and Lute, the former of which was now frozen in place like a still frame.

“You know, I still can’t emphasize how badly you fucked up. And you still are. You’re bonding with the traitor who you basically went after cus you got such a hate-clit for her. And you fucked up by not killing Niffty.” He began listing off Lute’s failures on his hand. “Enjoying demon food, made by that radio-prick, telling the princess and her daddy where mommy was.” Adam snarled, “You can’t do anything right as an angel.”

Lute struggled but managed to growl through gritted teeth. “Fuck off…!”

“Hm? Whuzzat?” The first man leaned in placing his hand to his ear.

“I said fuck off!”

She blinked, Fuse was now right in her face as if she phased right through Adam, and it all went black with a swipe of the trident.

Outside of Lute’s delusion, Vaggie was on her back with Lute mounting her, trying to make sense of what just happened. “Lute…?” she whispered, noticing the tears. Angel Dust had leaped into action to restrain Lute’s bloodied fist from landing another punch.

In the short amount of time she was blacked out, she had been wailing on Vaggie while screaming.

Lute shook her head, standing up after tugging her arm away. “I’m going to my room… thanks for the fight…” she grumbled, wiping her eyes with her bruised forearm.

Before anyone could stop her the wingless angel vaulted the ropes and trudged off.

“Uh… you two uhm… clean up? I’m gonna go give tri-pod a pep talk.”  Angel ran after Lute, he knew a PTSD attack when he saw one, especially one that hit close to home. If anyone could relate to what she was dealing with, it was him, no doubt about it.

Chapter Text

Lute groaned to herself, her head in her hand while trying to not break something. She hated feeling this weak, this helpless. And now her fits have gone from blubbering like a baby to bouts of rage. Granted, she and Vaggie were having a brutal spar but there was a difference between sparring and trying to outright bludgeon your opponent to death. The angel contemplated taking a cold shower to wash off the blood and sweat, or to just lie down and stare at the wall.

The wallpaper was looking nice this time of year…

She heard a knock at her door.

“Fuck off, in the case this is Vaggie, sorry, and fuck off. If this is Charlie… well… please go away.”

Angel Dust’s voice was on the other side of the door. “Not a chance, tripod. Listen how about a drink? On me?”

Lute squinted. “The drinks are free anyway. I repeat, fuck off.”

“Well stayin’ in your room like last time never did ya any favors.”

Fuck… he has a point…

Before Lute could sit up to walk over to the door it unlatched itself and opened after Angel knocked a few times in sequence. “How did you open it? It was locked.”

Angel smirked, gesturing around him. “You know that one-eyed cat? Keekee? She’s kinda the hotel itself in a way.” He crossed his lower pair of arms. “Alright… you wanna get that drink? Maybe talk?”

The angel glowered, tucking her knees up to her chin.

“Okay…” Angel sighed, “I bring the drinks up to you then and we talk here if it’s your privacy you’re worried about, tripod.”

“Just talking is fine… I can go down later for something to drown myself…” Lute grumbled. “And stop calling me that.”

“Alright, alright.” Angel held up his hands with a shrug. “Whatever ya say, bob cut.”

The spider pornstar slunk into Lute’s room, ducking his head to not bump it into the doorframe. Now that the angel got a good look at, well… Angel, his height was quite intimidating, usually he was seen slouching or hunched over. Angel took a seat at the foot of Lute’s bed, reaching out to a remote lying on a dresser beneath the flatscreen TV to turn it on. He flicked through the channels a little before stopping on a channel based in Sloth called the ‘Comfort Noises Zone’. The room began sounding like a calm dreamscape, almost sleep-inducing.

“I’ll cut to the chase, I know what you’re goin’ through, and it ain’t pretty.”

Lute scoffed at the audacity of a sinner to try and relate but didn’t interrupt.

“You feel helpless, you wanna lash out against the world for how unfair it all is.”

“...Okay?” Lute drawled. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because you don’t have to go through it alone.”

The angel tiredly glared at her intrusive guest, scratching an itch on the back of her neck. “I don’t need charity from some pornstar who fucked up and ended up here.”

Angel Dust feigned offence placing his hand on his chest with an exaggerated gasp. “Moi, fucked up?” He started sounding serious. “Girl, you’re here with the rest of us, fallen like Charlie’s pop and gal. We’re all fuckups in our own way.”

Before Lute could retort Angel held up a finger, tutting.

“Hup! None of that ‘Angels don't make mistakes’ bullshit neither, it’s cool to fuck up. What’s not cool is to deny it and not improve. I’ve fucked up more times than you can count before comin’ to Hell, my biggest fuckup is something I’m still workin’ on…”

“Lemme guess,” Lute snorted, “the fact you’re some drag show bimbo who’s made a name for himself riding and sucking cocks for clout?”

“Kinda, but-.”

Lute started getting in Angel’s face. “Or is it because you’re from a family of fuckups barring your mother and sister who now have to see you on half of every billboard with a new risque title? You made your choices, I didn’t make mine to get my cherry popped by a trident!”

Angel Dust’s eyes narrowed, his voice unusually quiet as he turned the television off. “You think you got it bad? Oh boo hoo, you got raped once. What you dealt with was that one bad day, I deal with it nearly every day of my life in this city.” He poked her chest with each sentence. “My biggest fuck up is signing my soul over to Valentino, where I don’t just get raped by tridents. It’s by everyone in this fuckin’ city! It’s a fuck-up I’m still goin’ through! SO DON’T YOU FUCKIN’ COME AT ME WITH A WEAPONIZED SOB STORY WHEN I’M TRYNA HOLD OUT AN OLIVE BRANCH!”

Lute was at a loss for words, gulping back whatever comeback she had. The spider calmed down, easing up on his tirade.

“Look, I'm sorry, that came out really wrong. What I’m tryna say is that we both have it bad. Just because it happened to you once, doesn’t make it any less horrible. My heart goes out to ya, it really does… but you can’t be sulking 24/7 when not just me, but Charlie’s lendin’ a hand. And what better person to help ya get over it or manage it is someone with… experience? Like me?”

Angel held out a hand, his face a picture of genuine regard for Lute’s wellbeing. From Charlie was one thing, but from the same sinner she disregarded in that trial? That and Husk’s little gesture with the beer bottle gave her pause. She reached out, then pulled away realizing she was going in for a hug. “Uhm… you never saw me do that. Got it?”

Angel smirked, mimicking zipping his lips shut. “My lips are sealed. How about we actually go outside the hotel and give ya a tour of the place from the ground? I’ll bring Cherri along too, for extra safety. Unless ya want Vaggie to come?”

“The bomber would be fine,” Lute chuckled, not wanting to be near Vaggie after what just happened. “But I don’t think I can go out, people know my face.”

“I know what you need! A total makeover, girl!” Angel giddily cheered. “Maybe a little styling on that hair to cover your face somewhat and a mouth mask with some fake horns and you’ll look like a natural denizen of Hell in no time. At least until your body kinda ends up like cyclops when you get used to bein’ here.”

Right… Lute had forgotten when an angel has fallen, their appearance takes on a more demonic aspect. Lucifer with his horns and flames, Vaggie with her muted colors and bow shifting into horns. The thought of resembling a demon permanently both scared and oddly excited her. Maybe it would give her arm back? New wings perhaps? Or maybe a new power? 

“Before we go onto whatever makeup montage you have in mind. I need to shower… a long warm one. So scoot!” Lute was practically shoving Angel Dust out of her room, the door slamming shut behind him once he was out. She cracked it open just a smidge to mumble out a quick, “Thank you…” before closing the door more considerately this time.

“Anytime, bob cut,” Angel smiles.

Before he could step away from the door, he had just now registered that Lute mentioned his sister. He spun on his heel rapidly banging on the door with all six of his arms now. “HOLD UP YOU KNEW MOLLY?!”

Molly sneezed, getting the distinct feeling she was being mentioned somewhere.

“Bless you,” February said, holding out a tissue.

Molly and February were sharing a table at a shopping center food court. Despite it being Heaven, human souls did have natural urges for purchases and social hangouts. 

“Thanks.” Molly blew her nose. It had been a good while since she had heard of the Exterminations from Sera’s live broadcast. Yet it only felt like it was yesterday. The spider sighed, picking at her nachos with a flick of her finger, placing the tip of it covered in cheese into her mouth.

“Still feeling down…?” February asked, popping a french fry from her plate into her mouth.

Molly nodded silently.

“You wanna vent?”

Molly inhaled, trying not to make a scene. Ever since her meeting with Sera, the news of the Exterminations, and the knowledge that one of her best pair of customers in her restaurant, Lute and Adam were not only part of it but leading it. She felt utterly betrayed, and Sera was also at the receiving end of an Italian-laced tongue-lashing for letting it happen this long. In hindsight… a bad idea. But the High Seraphim took it like a champ, it was hard to deny.

“I don’t think I can, not in public anyway,” Molly finally replied, her closest friend February knew all the details but kept it on the down-low. She smiled softly, chuckling a little, “My brother’s at least alive.”

“Anthony?” February tilted her head.

“Eh, last I heard he’s been going by Angel Dust. The kinda guy he is would have never flown back when we were alive,” Molly giggled, lightening up a bit. “Good for him though, I think he looks good in thigh-highs. Dunno about Dad and Jonathan, though, those two probably died in the Exterminations...? It also sucks that my brother’s stuck owing his soul to that pimp…” Molly growled, clenching her fists.

“Ugh… don’t even mention that cazzo,” February scoffed, her striped antennae drooping. “That prick would have pimped out our own grandma if it would net him an extra buck. Which, he did with me…” She trailed off, trying not to burst into tears.

Molly reached out, clutching February’s hand with both of hers. “He’s not here, and most likely never will be. You’re safe here and always will be. Repeat after me, ‘I am safe. I am in Heaven. Those I love are here with me.’”

“I am safe. I am in Heaven. Those I love are here with me,” February repeated a few times. Ingraining that mantra into her daily life at this point.

In life, she and Valentino were cousins. But because of how close-knit their family was she may as well have been siblings with him. He took advantage of her naivete to sell her out for spare cash to pay off his debts to shady characters all the while she was dug deeper into owing more of herself to him and her ‘customers’. Valentino became a black stain on their family legacy and more than earned his eternity in Hell.

“Better?” Molly whispered.

February smiles, sighing with relief.

“Better.”     

“On the different topic of Lute by the way, where is she?”

Come to think of it, Molly hadn’t seen Lute at all. The idea of the angel being in hiding crossed her mind. She looked around, noting the amount of Winners and Cherubs going about their business. How many of them were Exorcists? The only things narrowing them down were gender as Adam essentially kept a glorified harem, and that they were mostly purely humanoid. But with so many souls in Heaven, it was hard to distinguish who could have been who.

“Sorry for overhearing your little chit-chat, but… you girls need anything else?” A red-haired angel in casual work attire with a button-up t-shirt and shorts carried a tray with empty glasses. 

“Uhm, we’re fine, thank you…” Molly squinted, reading the nametag on the food court employee vest. “Fuse. Has an angel with a white bob cut ever come around here?”

Fuse waved it off. “Nah, if I was her I wouldn’t even show my face, to be honest.”

“Yeah,” February lamented, “Winners aren’t really too keen on Exorcists. I know we’re all about being good people to try and forgive or whatever, but… centuries?” She returned to eating her food.

“Mhm, yup, totally. Don’t you two worry, if I ever see her, you’ll be the first to know. Speaking of, I might come over and try some of those pizzas. Gotta try them out if someone as picky as her enjoys them.” Fuse wore a smile that disguised a satisfied smirk.

Molly shuddered, she was around mobsters enough in life to know a ‘buried body’ smirk when she saw it. She forced an uncomfortable smile, nodding. “You’re more than welcome to,” she spoke sweetly.

Once the angel was out of earshot and eyeshot, Molly gripped February by the shoulders with her upper pair of arms, whispering in fluent Italian to mask their conversation. “[You saw that smirk, right? She knows something… about Lute, I mean.]”

February was in between mouthfuls of her fries, awkwardly staring.

“[Maybe bring it up with Sera when you see her again? Or Emily]?” the moth replied after gulping.

“[With the upcoming trial, they already have a lot on their plate, especially with a bigshot coming here to play judge.]” Molly’s face grew a little more determined. “[I’m gonna…]” Her bravado deflated almost instantly. It’s not like she could go to Hell without a portal directly to the hotel. “[I don’t really have a choice but to wait…]”

“[Gather proof in the meantime?]” February suggested. “[Also, you got a piece of nacho stuck between your teeth, right there.]” She pointed to her own teeth for reference with an amused airheaded smile.

Molly blushed with embarrassment, retreating backward once she realized how close in proximity she was to her friend, picking at the stray morsel with her tongue. “[Did I get it?]” She bared her teeth.

“[Yeah, girl, you’re good.]” 

“[Ok… I’ll try and see what I can come up with. Starting with Adam’s house.]”

“[Ooh! Can I come with?]” February giggled. “[There’s this black pair of latex catsuits I’ve always wanted to try out and this is the perfect opportunity if we’re going all spies.]”

Molly rolled her eyes. “[I guess. But we gotta take this super seriously. Also, are they form-altering?]”

[“Mhm, they’ll shift with your body if you ever wanna suddenly go all four-legs.”]

With that settled the two Winners scampered off getting ready for their upcoming whistleblower routine on Lute’s disappearance. 

Chapter Text

Charlie yawned, sitting up on her shared bed with Vaggie who was still peacefully snoozing. She breathed into her hand and sniffed, wincing. “Okay… morning breath.”

Before the princess could slip out of bed she was yanked back in by her girlfriend who mumbled, “Five more minutes…” Vaggie wrapped her arms and wings around Charlie, nuzzling into her neck. “Warm…”

It was the same every morning, Vaggie being such a cute snugglebug and Charlie could only take it. Charlie giggled, enjoying the feeling of being the little spoon, having her tail wrapped around her girlfriend’s waist to keep them close. It had been especially peaceful as of late with the lack of Exterminations to look forward to. That didn’t mean it was all stress-free in the long run, Hell still had a population issue, but that was thankfully more manageable than yearly genocide.

Sneakily, Charlie swapped herself with a pillow so she could get cleaned up and dressed, letting Vaggie wake up whenever she was ready.

After a quick shower and suit-up, she felt fresh to take on the day!

Charlie strutted out of her room only to freeze mid-step when she was met with Angel Dust and…

“Lute?” she asked.

Lute was slouching, unamused by what Angel had in mind for her in the morning. Her bob cut was styled to have one half of it tied back in a bun, the other half combed to resemble emo bangs covering one of her eyes. Her mouth was covered by a broken piece of her old mask’s stitched grin redesigned to lose the stitched look to resemble a jagged mouth, and a hairband on her head with her old mask’s horns to mimic demon horns. 

Her outfit also had an overhaul, now wearing jean-shorts, a black t-shirt under a cerise vest jacket with long sleeves barely reaching her fingertips. She was also wearing running shoes. All this together made her look the part of the ‘delinquent sinner’. The only thing about her that couldn’t be fixed was her missing arm, which Angel had just stapled the sleeve’s cuff to the shoulder to not have it flap around.

Angel Dust was trying to hold it together while gesturing to his little work of fashion art. “Whaddya think?”

Cherri Bomb was nearby, rolling around on the floor cackling like a madwoman, tears of laughter rolling down her cheeks.

“Hyuk it up…” Lute grumbled, her mouthpiece adorably grimacing.

Charlie chuckled. “Sorry, it’s… definitely different. Why the makeover?”

“Ah, well ya see-” Angel began.

“Pornobug and pinkeye wanted to show me around the city and whipped up this disguise to hide my identity,” the angel interrupted, earning an eye-rolling scowl. “The mouthpiece I can work with, but messing up my hairdo was a step too far…”

“Well, I wanted to go with a mohawk, one of those that kinda sweep near the front at the bangs.”

“In your dreams. I wouldn’t trust you with a pair of scissors even if you are good with your hands as you claim.”

Angel cackled, “Aw c’mon, these hands have worked magic!” He raised four of his hands to waggle his fingers.

“Not on hair…” Lute coughed. “Plus Vaggie wouldn’t let me hear the end of it."

Charlie watched the two bicker, clearing her throat to get their attention. She cleared her throat again louder to have some quiet from Cherri’s laughing fit. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? Don’t get me wrong, it’s a great disguise but Hell on ground level is a different beast than flying down to pick off stragglers…”

Vaggie peeked out from behind Charlie groggily, adjusting her eyepatch. She froze upon seeing Lute, her eye bulging with a suppressed laugh. “W-...Snrk… who’s this?” she feigned a question, pursing her lips. “A… A new guest? We should introduce them to Lute and-...”

Her facade broke, covering her face with shuddering laughs while Cherri and Angel began cackling.

Lute looked so done with their shit right now, just glad that Charlie was at least keeping a straight face. “Well I’d rather not stay cooped up here, and if I’m going to be in Hell, I may as well learn what I can. They’ll both be looking out for me and you know I can fight if I need to.”

Charlie raised a finger to speak.

“Yeah I know, I’ll stay away from Cannibal Town, they can smell an angel and are still in a feeding frenzy over angel flesh…” The angel gagged at the thought of smelling the crisped remains of her deceased comrades. She did wonder what they did with Adam’s corpse, maybe kept it in a storage cooler for special occasions? Didn’t matter honestly, not like she could go in and ask. Not like she really cared anymore. “We’ll be fine.”

“Well,” Charlie said with a soft smile, “I’m glad you’re taking some steps to get better. I was saving this for the weekend but…” The princess ducked back into her room for a brief moment before procuring a briefcase with a hexagonal honeycomb emblem with a stylized fox head in the middle. She opened the briefcase to reveal a collection of smartphones fresh from the Greed Ring. “For extra safety, a little donation from Auntie Bee so I can keep tabs on my guests!”

Lute stared down at the phone, hesitantly asking, “This doesn’t have a tracker inside does it?”

“For the sake of privacy, no, it’s kind of made to avoid using Vox’s signal, but it has everything you could need. Entertainment, net access with a fully paid-off plan. Even has its own Intranet for easy contact between you all, I already set up your accounts on that!” Charlie was practically bouncing with glee.

Angel whistled, taking one with his name literally written into the phone case to inspect it. “This is quality stuff, you sure that whole Vox-free signal isn’t to just get Al to use something more modern than a Morse Code Telegraph finally? I mean, either way, a phone that ain’t ringing with Val’s ugly mug on it is perfectly fine with me.”

“Oh, no way! I blew up my last phone, thanks, princess!” Cherri picked hers up, looking it over and admiring the sleekness.

“Literally?” Lute questioned.

“Nah, got airdropped a petabyte’s worth of pornography from an old mate of mine.”

A pause. Cherri rolled her eye

“Of course I fuckin’ blew it up literally. I mixed up my bomb bags and personal bags when tossin’.”

Charlie groaned, “Cherriiiiii… we talked about this, no more Doomsday District bombing runs…”

“Oh, most certainly forgive me. There’s so much I can do with the high-stakes excitement of Mammopoly,” the one-eyed demoness drawled sarcastically.

“Ain’t that even more violent?” Angel questioned.

“Only if Niffty’s losin’ or Lucifer lands on a spot owned by Alastor...”

Everyone collectively shuddered at the mention of the game night. Lucifer in full demongelic mode blasted fire from his mouth at Alastor for buying up properties in his movement line. Then there was Niffty, every time someone was about to purchase a property she wanted when the game wasn’t going her way, all she had to do was give a dead-eyed glare while holding her roach-killing dagger. Not even Alastor himself would dare after she shanked his hand. There was a damn good reason that box was practically sealed in lead.

“Okay, fair point.” Charlie conceded. “At least cut down on the mass mayhem?”

Lute held her phone, looking it over for a power switch. She pressed it and the screen came to life with a cheerful jingle, Beelzebub’s voice gracing everyone’s ears with a sing-song welcome.

A preferences menu flashed, asking if Lute wanted to make her unlock a facial scan, fingerprint, or password. She selected all of the above for safety, quickly removing her mouthpiece to scan her face. The home screen consisted of several apps, most of which Lute recognized whenever she borrowed Adam’s phone but more Hell-based.

HellTube, Sinstagram, Sinify, Hellu Stax, LustHub. A unique one bore the hotel logo, most likely that Intranet messaging system.

“Huh, neat. Thanks Charlie, I like it.” Lute smiled, though when she did, Charlie spluttered out a chuckle as if she was holding her breath this whole time. “What? What’s so funny?”

She removed her mouthpiece and inspected it from the front this time… her smile resembled a cute cat grin with it on. This whole time she had a fucking cat face while speaking and Charlie up till now was too polite to point it out or laugh.

“Must… resist… urge… to… strangle… spider…” Lute was flexing her fingers while reaching out to Angel’s throat with a pissed-off stare.

“Hey Lute.” Vaggie stepped out of the room still in her pajamas, she held out Lute’s broken sword inside a dagger sheath. “Since this won’t be perma-killing anyone any time soon, keep it with you in case. For protection. I’m sure you can still fuck someone up.”

Lute took a moment to stare at it, unsure if she should even wrap her fingers around the handle. Or if she even could.

“No thanks… I-”

Vaggie addressed the angel in a more authoritative tone. “Consider it an order from a fellow warrior. Arm up for safety, this is Hell. We’re trying to save them but some are happier being pieces of shit.”

Lute placed the mouthpiece back on then took the sheathe, placing it inside an inner pocket of her jacket.

Angel Dust sighed. “C’mon, we’re losin’ valuable time unless you two broads wanna just kiss right here.”

“That’d be kinda hot,” Cherri said.

Vaggie gave a grumpy grunt. “No. It won’t.”

Ignoring the brewing argument, Charlie held up a stack of Hell Dollars. “Some spending money!”

“Charlie, that looks less like spending money and more like a downpayment on a fucking house…” Lute gawked at the stack which looked heavy enough to break a femur just being raised to head level like it was a pile of feathers. “I can’t accept this, the phone was nice enough.”

“Nonsense, the family vault never runs out!” the princess giggled, shoving the pile onto the angel. “Have fun!” Charlie called out with a cheerful wave as the confused Lute was comically pushed along the floor while too stunned to speak.

Lute stuck close to her two new companions, walking like a pack. The disguise was holding up pretty well, so far no one’s recognized her. Then again it probably also helped she was accompanied by two familiar faces to Pentagram City; Cherri Bomb the Australian terror of the Doomsday District and Angel Dust the Ring-wide famous pornstar. Everywhere she looked it was a sobering experience, debauchery, violence, shady deals in broad daylight. Usually, sinners were too distracted running for their lives when she was around.

The further into the city however it became more normal, oddly enough. Sinners go about their day, going to work, eating out, or just enjoying doing nothing. Granted there was the odd moment or so where Lute would see a pair making out or just outright screwing at a table in a cafe, but it wasn’t too jarring.

“So… where exactly are we going?” Lute finally asked.

“The only good bar not owned by Valentino,” Angel Dust replied. “I still owe ya a drink.”

He was interrupted by a car driving past, the occupant catcalling the three before crashing into a wall, a weak thumbs up from a jaggedly broken arm escaping the wreckage. A regular morning…

They soon arrived at their destination, a DJ bar named ‘Cat Scratch’, a neon sign of a naked cat-girl lounging in a martini glass, chest tastefully censored by a pair of cherries. Lute did recall seeing that sign during her old Extermination runs, though her staring earned her a nudge from Angel Dust who smirked. Probably making a quick wordless joke about her disguise and locale being similar.

"You can't convince me this was a happy coincidence, you snow-sniffing bastard..." Lute groaned.

"Guilty as charged, bob cut!" Angel guffawed.

Inside the double doors was what looked to be a humble lit-up dance floor surrounded by tables and chairs on one end with a fancy neon-lit bar on the other. The employees were dressed in skimpy tiger-print legless catsuits with proudly displaying cleavage, the males just went shirtless with leopard-print shorts.

Cherri inhaled, enjoying the scent of alcohol in the air. “Oh fuck yeah, they got the good shit!”

Lute humored that assessment with her own inhale, only to cough and splutter. Yup… that was alcohol, the ‘good shit’ that will probably send any lightweight’s mind to Heaven before dragging their ass back to Hell. She tried averting her gaze from staring at the admittedly attractive showgirls and showboys dancing in hanging cages. While trying to avoid staring she bumped into one of the tray-holding employees, being met with a faceful of abs. “Shit, shit! Sorry!”

The tiger-like demon she bumped into just smirked, amused, replying in a thick surfer accent. “No probs, babe, you new here?”

“Yup, she is, Kevin.” Angel took hold of Lute’s shoulders to skooch her in the right direction. He leaned in to whisper to Lute, “Don’t get too turned on, he’s gay.”

“Am not! I totes crush puss on the daily!” Kevin whined, flexing.

“Uh-huh, and my ass ‘totes’ wasn’t what you were focusin’ on during the threeway last week!” The spider spanked his own rear teasingly.

The angel was led to a corner table, seating herself while Cherri stuck nearby to make sure Lute was alright, and Angel left to get their drinks. Lute could only pull the hood of her jacket over her head to drown out the visual assault of scantily-clad demons dancing on the lit floor and flashing lights, barely whimpering with embarrassment.

In Vox’s bedroom, his screen displayed an ‘off the air’ message while Valentino was cuddled up against him. His head rattled with an incoming call, waking them both. Vox grumbled, answering.

“This better be fucking good…” he growled to the caller.

“Vox, sir, we’ve got reports of a new guest at the hotel leaving.” It was Vox’s assistant calling, updating his Overlord with surveillance.

“New guest?”

“Yes sir.”

Vox rubbed his eyes, sighing while getting out of bed. Out of everything in life, and in Hell, there was one thing he hated with a fiery passion only second to his disdain for Alastor. That thing was incompetence. “Chopin… was there anyone new who entered the hotel besides Lute?” he asked, trying to make sure his assistant was on the same page.

“No sir…” Chopin knew where the tech demon was going with this as he realized his error too late.

“Use that fucking noodle I hired you for, and use some deductive reasoning. I didn’t wait to do nothing for this long just to miss a golden opportunity because of incompetence.” The air around him began crackling with blue electricity. Valentino knew this was a good time to skedaddle to the nearby bathroom and avoid the outburst.

“No sir… sorry sir…” Chopin gulped. “I’ll have someone get out there this instant.”

“You fucking better,” Vox sneered, his screen glitching, “Or I’ll be feeding you to the sharks AND USING YOUR BITCH ASS AS MY NEW PEN HOLDER! DO YOU HEAR ME, YOU LIMP-DICKED CUNT?!” The air visibly shattered as a power surge rippled out from the tower, blacking out the Entertainment District. When the lights returned, he was standing on a scorch mark.

Valentino was quick to rub his shoulders after slinking behind, purring, “Voxy, chill, your plan is genius. Flawless! It won’t fail.” He knew how well Vox’s ego liked to be stroked. “And when we have Lute’s data for the bots, profits will soar, and most likely an angel’s soul in your employ with her as my new toy…!”

Vox’s tension seemed to dissipate, he knew damn well his partner was schmoozing, but it was working. “You, me, bed. Now,” he growled with a grin, wanting to get a quickie in before the day started.

Meanwhile, at the front desk area, of the tower, Velvette was waiting for someone to run by. Just as she saw those red and black mismatched eyes she grabbed Chopin by the back of his collar. “Where’s the fire?” she chuckled.

Chopin was seemingly running in place while being hoisted. “O-Oh! Miss V-Velvette! I was just following the big guy’s orders. To deliver t-this!” He held up a phone box. The prototype that Velvette had been drumming up rumors of this whole time.

“Yoink!” She snatched the box, holding it out of reach.

“Vox is gonna kill me if I lose it!” he whined, trying to snatch it back before being silenced by a boop on the nose.

“Don’t you worry your neurotic little head, I’ll be the one to hand-deliver this thing.”

“...You? But if Vox sees me still here he’ll-”

Velvette gave him some puppy dog eyes, bottom lip pouted. “I’ll let ya boink one of my models,” she fake-whimpered.

Chopin froze, actually considering the proposition with his tail straightening. Someone else runs his errand, and he gets to bang one of his co-boss’s finest models? This was an obvious no-brainer as he stopped struggling, wordlessly nodding and accepting the deal.

She smirked, patting him on the head. “Good boy. Her name’s Bonnie, tell her ‘Velvette Cookies’ and she’ll get the code. Now run along.” The fashionista didn’t even get past her little code before Chopin was sprinting like his pants were ablaze. She probably should have mentioned Bonnie was a hermaphrodite with a dominatrix attitude and lack of respect for safe words, oh well, surprises for later.

Velvette opened the phone case and began reading the instructions for the plethora of user features, committing them to memory. To make the hand-off it looks like she needs to go incognito with a whole new wardrobe. 

Strutting off to a nearby changing room Velvette made sure no one was following her, closed the curtain, and looked herself over in the mirror. "Alright, girl, time for an overhaul," she grunted, cracking her fingers and then her neck twice.

She began pointing things out by tapping the reflective surface as if it were a phone screen. Pleased with her mental selections, Velvette began swiping left.

Chapter Text

Lute had downed her sixth drink so far, though compared to what Cherri Bomb and Angel Dust were chugging she may as well be the designated driver even in her inebriated state.

“So…” Angel hiccuped. “You’re tellin’ me bein’ gay ain’t a ban on Heaven?” He leaned on the table between small pillars of bottles.

Lute shook her head. “Nuh-uh! Molly is pansexual.”

They were discussing what Heaven was really like from an angel’s perspective. And seeing as the spider now knows someone who has lived there it was the perfect time to make small talk and get some unanswered questions fulfilled. Cherri waved her hand to get Lute’s attention, nearly toppling over.

“Is angel period blood gold?”

“Dunno, never had one.” Lute leaned in to whisper to not get any attention on her true nature. “But my cherry pop was gold so… pppbbbpphtt…” She blew a raspberry while dropping her head on the table. She had grown a little more accustomed to talking about her sordid experience around Angel. 

“Hey hey, c’mon, girl. Sure you may have been a total piece of shit back then and what happened to ya was a tragedy, but look at ya now. Livin’ it up!” Angel pulled Lute into a side-hug embrace. “You’re one of us now!”

Cherri leaned in to hug from the other side. “One of us!”

“One of us! One of us!” they chanted, laughing uproariously.

Cherri sighed, wiping a tear from her laughter. “I wish Pentious was ‘ere…”

Lute took a swig from her seventh bottle, blurting out, “Well good news, he’s in Heaven.” She felt her shoulders get yanked by the cyclops and pulled face-to-face.

“He’s what?! You’re fuckin’ with me.”

Lute was seeing double, the alcohol made it look like Cherri had two eyes as she continued to explain. “Ya… the Exterminations were put on hold cus top-hat snakey boy got in.”

Cherri looked like she was about to burst out into drunken tears. “Why didn’t you tell us…?” she fussed.

“Because I still fucking hated all of you… and you guys wouldn’t believe me if I did up till now, thinking it was probably my way of getting a rise out of you. Also, I still have my own issues to work out.”

Lute felt her shoulders get released as Cherri raised a finger to retort, the gears shifting in her head. Shrugging she took a swig after a, “Aye, fair enough.”  She then lit up. “Oh shit! We gotta tell Charlie! Like, face-to-face! After another celebration drink!”

“Yeah, bitches!” Angel cheered, popping open a bottle and handing it to the angel who began chugging it down. “Chug! Chug! Chug!”

As their party dragged on, the three began to accrue quite a hefty amount of attention from the rest of the patrons. Angel Dust was pulled away by Kevin for some one-on-one time in the backroom, Cherri was showing a few sinners show to make a Molotov while tossing the results onto nearby party-goers. It was complete anarchy. All the while, Lute was watching the light show with a blissful drunk grin. She pulled out her phone to check the time. They had been here for hours.

Maybe they should pay the tab and go? Lute didn’t know the way back without flight… and the other two were preoccupied. She sighed, checking her current bottle and getting the last drop of it. The burning sensation of the alcohol died out by the third bottle, now it seemed to just flow smoothly like water.

“Ugh… I swear I’m gonna wake up with the worst hangover, I just fucking know it…”

Worse yet, she felt her guts churning, she had imbibed too much. Panic immediately set in as she clasped her mouth, trying not to vomit and looking around frantically for a bathroom. Scrambling to her feet she ran to one that had a female symbol, but when opening the door she saw what looked like an all-female tangle of bodies heaving against one another.

Slamming the door shut she was losing the battle to her nausea and now she had the sight burned into her memory.

“Shit, shit, shit!” Seeing no other option she ran outside the front door and around the corner, removing her mouthpiece and heaving the contents of her stomach of the last few hours onto the wall of the club.

Yup… there’s that burn again…!

Her body was still adjusting to Hell, and Hell-brewed alcohols had quite the adverse effect compared to Husk’s drinks which use more traditional materials with very little infernal materials. She took deep breaths, spitting out bile and whatever clung to her teeth with revulsion lest it cause another evacuation.

Lute’s vision stopped spinning, and her belly felt fine. Sighing with relief she wiped her lips to place her mouthpiece back on. A short commotion finally caught the angel’s attention, giving her pause. Deeper in the alley by the club what looks like a short sinner was being harassed by two sharks in suits. The situation looked rather dire as the victim was against the wall, staring up at her aggressors with wide eyes.

Normally, she would see something like this and just slaughter all three, ignoring the context. She grimaced, not wanting to get involved, it could be a trap, it could also just get her in deeper shit.

“C’mon, baby, let’s have some fun…!” one of the sharks growled, leering down at his prey.

The second one reached out to grab the small sinner’s head before being sent flying into the wall with a solid punch to his jaw. Lute was glaring, eyes locked on her targets with her knuckles practically smoking, she had made up her mind to intervene against her better judgment.

The first drew a gun and began shooting, but Lute just weaved around each shot using her natural agility then swiped with her broken sword from its sheathe inside her jacket. Red blood began spraying the ground as the shark roared in agony. His arm would grow back, or just reattach, but even impure angelic steel still stung like a motherfucker. She pointed the jagged tip at his throat, nodding to the exit of the alley with a snarl.

“Run.”

The sharks didn’t even have to be told twice while they pushed themselves aside and over to get out. It wasn’t a slaughter, but it was far more exhilarating.

Lute sheathed her sword, turning her attention to the shivering woman. She looked to be about four feet in height, with a bright pink buzzcut and flawless Trojan-style mohawk ending in a ponytail at the back. She was wearing a full punk rocker ensemble, a black leather jacket with studs on the back spelling the name ‘Violet’, an eggshell white mini-dress with a band logo across the chest that Lute couldn’t quite make out fully from the barely open jacket. Legwear involved stirrup stockings with a cutesy skull pattern and ankle-height platform boots.

“You okay, shorty?” Lute asked, making sure to keep her distance to not alarm the girl.

They nodded, finally looking up at their savior. Sharp angular eyes with white irises and pupils that resemble swirling spirals within a sea of red sclera. Her face was round with no visible nose and black lips trembling with terror contrasting against coffee-tan skin, a line of freckles across the bridge of where the nose would be.

“Cool, you should probably go somewhere safe.” Lute turned around, heading back to the exit of the alley, but swiveled her head when she heard footsteps behind her, the girl was following her. “I said somewhere safe, not someone safe. Besides I’m far from the safest thing you’ll hang out with.”

“B-B…But you saved me… you’re safe,” the girl replied in a squeaky thick cockney accent. “C-Can’t I stick near ya until I’m sure those arseholes are gone…?”

“I… guess? Though I doubt inside is much safer, we got a mad bomber bitch showing everyone how to make explosives. What’s your name?”

The girl whirled around, proudly displaying her jacket with a cheeky fanged grin. “Violet! What’s yours?”

“Lu-” Lute pursed her lips, trying to think of a fake name on the spot before she exposed her identity. “…Uh…Loop.”

Nailed it.

Violet giggles. “That’s a funny name.”

“U-Uh-huh…!” Lute nodded, awkwardly smiling. “Maybe we should go inside?”

The two ladies approached the door of the club, swinging it open to be met with a small bonfire in the middle of the dance floor, patrons dancing around it as if it was a minor inconvenience. Cherri was tossing bottles into the growing fire, enjoying the eruption of flames. Angel was done with Kevin, having returned to the table to pass out.

So much for protection…

Violet bounced on her heels, clearly fascinated by the anarchy and by Cherri. “Wow! It’s Cherri! Bomb!” she gasped. “She was so badarse on the news!”

Cherri heard her name and noticed Lute with her new accomplice. “Oy! New friend?”

“No fucking way, you know her?!” Violet began vibrating with excitement. “Wait, does this mean you’re staying in that hotel too, Loop?”

“Uhm… yeah, I’m a new guest there,” Lute half-lied, silently gesturing with her eyeline for Cherri to get the hint on what name to refer her as around anyone outside at this point. Thankfully she caught on pretty quickly. “You know, if you want you could probably sign up for it if you wanna actually try for redemption.”

Violet hemmed and hawed, stroking her chin. “Tempting, but I wanna get out all my aggression first. Make a name for myself.”

“You couldn’t handle two sharks yet you want to make a name?” the angel asked, amused with a hint of concern.

“I don’t judge you for playing hero in Hell.” The small sinner humphed, crossing her arms. “Thank you again, by the way.”

“I like this shrimp, bitch got goals!” Cherri cackled, tossing a burning bottle over her shoulder, the resulting shockwave blowing her hair forward.

Lute flinched as the explosion, noting that Violet didn’t even so much as blink. This kid went from scared shitless to fangirling without fear in less than ten minutes. Even the most run-of-the-mill overlord would have snatched someone like her up into their employ. Easy pickings. Then again, as with Niffty size can be deceiving. Violet faced Lute, her hands behind her back as she rocked back and forth.

“Wanna exchange numbers?”

“You’re awfully forward…” Lute mumbled.

“Well, you seem like a good egg and in Hell ya gotta make the right friends to survive,” Violet said, justifying her request. “And you seem like a good friend!”

“Why not Cherri, aren’t you a fan of hers?”

“Ah quit deflecting!” Cherri, sat on the rim of the table Angel Dust was still passed out on with her legs crossed. “You made your first friend friend outside the hotel. I think Charlie woulda called it… improvement? You can drop her my number later, though. Always appreciate a fan!” She winked as best she could with one eye.

Lute sighed, she did make leaps and bounds ahead of who she was but it still felt forced. But Violet did seem genuinely interested in being friends, and who can say no to that mug with those spiraling eyes? The two women presented their phones, but a poorly-timed shockwave from one of Cherri’s concoctions rattled them both, sending their phones to the floor. The angel glared at the bomber briefly then bent down, her hand reaching out for her phone but hesitating when she saw the exact same phone next to another.

“Oh shit, you have the same phone?” Violet gawked, picking hers up.

“Huh, so we do. I thought non-VoxTek was hard to get a hold of, where’d you get yours?”

The small sinner shuffled uncomfortably. “Hand-me-down from an Imp who was looking to get a new one after fucking up royally with his girlfriend. She thought I was his side-piece and cut me head off.”
         
Lute tapped her phone screen, making sure it was hers and using the passcode. Violet did the same. They soon began exchanging numbers while chattering about how those sharks with guns were pushovers to someone with a sword. Eventually, the excitement started to die down with the bonfire of broken glass and beer beginning to fizzle out into a foul-smelling dust pile. The angel thanked herself for having enough of her mouthpiece to cover her nostrils, trying not to gag from whatever stench made it through.

Angel Dust finally stirred, rubbing the back of his neck and wrinkling his non-visible nose at the smell. “Did somebody Montezuma’s Revenge all over the floor?” He saw Lute and her new friend still talking. This time what seems to be a quick self-defense lecture on taking advantage of one's height. Angel stepped closer to Cherri, whispering, “Did she make a friend…?”

“Yup, can’t believe it either… big bad lieutenant givin’ a sinner advice,” Cherri whispered back, covering her mouth. She spoke up to the two. “Wanna get out of here before the owner arrives? ‘Sides, this place smells about as fresh as a jockstrap after rugby.”

Lute and Violet nodded, covering their noses. Lute approached the counter where a grumpy draconic-demon bartender was staring ahead questioning his afterlife choices, then dropping a wad of cash to pay for the drinks and any property damage before scampering out the door after her accomplices.

The bartender’s face looked slightly less annoyed, tucking the excess into his pocket.

“So, if my opponent was armed and twice my height, I go for the plums or box?” Violet asked, making a crushing motion with her hand.

Lute chuckled, walking alongside her group. “Pretty much.”

After taking their leave from the club, the group took a scenic route back towards the hotel. Too engrossed in their conversation, Lute hadn’t noticed they were further away from the classier parts of the city, now back to the slum-like outskirts. She only took notice when a barrel fire rolled across the street like traffic. At this point however she brushed it off, if someone like Angel Dust could, so could she. Not like dying had any consequence in Hell any longer.

The small sinner nodded, intrigued by the prospect of being able to make an attacker keel over from a good punch or crushing of the nethers.

“...What if they enjoy it?” Angel interjected. “I know quite a few into CBT or CLT.”

Lute looked at Angel, she knew the first one, but the second one confounded her.

“The fuck’s CLT?”

“Clit and Labia Torture, why? You into that shit?” The spider gave her a smirk with his eyebrows bouncing.

“Not even if you paid me,” Lute gagged, repeating, “Not even if you  paid me…”

Violet finally had an answer to the odd hypothetical question posed by Angel. “If they enjoy it, keep going then when they’re distracted by the pleasure I steal their cash and book it.”

“...Why do you have this so thought out?” Lute squinted suspiciously, instinctively cupping her hand over her nethers. Cherri and Angel followed suit.

Giggling, Violet stuck out her tongue teasingly. “No reason!” she coyly drawled, checking her phone. “Ah shit, I gotta go. Look, if ya ever wanna hang out just call! Or shoot me a text, either way. And uh, thanks again for saving me.” She held up her fist to bump.

Lute smiled, entertaining the fist-bump. “The offer’s still open for the hotel. I’m sure Charlie would be more than happy to have you. Oh! Before you go…” She dug into her pocket, pulled out a stack of Hell Dollars, and placed it in Violet’s hands. “This should be enough to get you a decent weapon, right? Punching dicks is effective, shooting one is superior.”

Violet’s eyes sparkled with delight, tucking the wad into her jacket and giving a quick hug. “Thanks! More of a shankin’ kinda bird, but I’ve always wanted a melon-popper.” She began running off, waving behind her as she turned the corner.

“So…” Cherri nodded ahead. “Back to the hotel to give Charlie the news?”

Right… it had almost slipped Lute’s mind she drunkenly blurted that the snake was not only alive but in Heaven. “Can we tell her after lunch? As a sort of gathering announcement?”

“Took the words right outta my mouth, bob cut,” Angel said. “I’m fuckin starvin’...!”

Chapter Text

"Good afternoon, Pentagram City! I’m Katie Killjoy!”

“And I’m Tom Trench!”

The news anchors of 666 News cheerfully greeted their audience.

Katie tapped her notes to align them, her fake grin stretching from ear to ear. “Before we get into tonight’s headline, population is currently on the rise. With the lack of exterminations that means more souls up for grabs! Go get ‘em!”

“That’s right, Katie!” Tom began, adjusting his tie. “And today’s results are in for the annual Overlord Rankings!”

A leaderboard flashed on the screen with names from top to bottom and a green or red arrow displaying a loss or increase in new contracts, of course, the top of the ranking board were The Vees collectively. Alastor was bottom of the list alongside the ‘Nobodies and Has-beens.’ Classic Vox propaganda strikes again.

“A shame about Rosie’s ranking, that classy piece of ass willingly had her contracts sacrificed to assist the Princess of Hell in defending her little hotel. Can you fucking believe that?”

Katie without even looking picked up her mug of coffee, with her co-host covering his junk, knowing her intentions. He was instead smashed on the head, boiling hot coffee now all over his face.

“AH IT BURNS!”

“That’s right, Tom! Rosie of Cannibal Town had sustained tragic losses, sending her to 3rd place behind Carmilla Carmine!”

A ‘Big News!’ headline cut through, the camera zoomed in on Katie’s face once it left, then zooming out to have her sitting in front of a fake fireplace backdrop opposite Vox who was leaning back in his seat with his legs crossed.

“Our very own head honcho of The V’s has graced the studio with his presence to deliver a new exciting announcement. Vox? The floor is yours!”

Vox grinned, turning on the charm and dialing it up to 11. He looked towards the camera and stood, clearing his throat. “Denizens of Hell. I’ve been hearing such… horrible rumors, that our entertainment is lacking, our fashion outdated, our products no longer top of the line.”

Vox dramatically sighed, a spotlight focusing in on him.

“But I’m here to assure our loyal customers and soon-to-be former dissenters that we at the VoxTek family hear you loud and clear. You deserve the best! We deserve your loyalty and cash!”

He pointed to the camera, his left eye rippling hypnotically as the stage lit up with fanfare and confetti. “So we’ve decided to show you the future in Hell social media with a little teaser we’ve cooked up to show you all that VoxTek is always at the top of customer and viewer satisfaction!”

An advertisement began to play, displaying a phone box with a sultry breathy female voice in a French accent backing it up.

"Do you wish for entertainment? Do you wish for community? Well, this is the next best thing. Introducing your future in on-the-go electronic media and companion satisfaction. You lonely little shits."

The box began to spin, popping open with the new phone, the ‘VPhone Version 84’. Its name appeared from a lens flare glinting off the corner of the sleek screen, tech jargon showing up displaying its plethora of features both software and hardware. “Pre-order now, or you’re a fucking loser,” the sultry voice ended the advert, a price tag stamping into the bottom corner with vague terms and conditions in tiny print.

The television switched channels before the teasers could play, Charlie holding the remote. “Yeah, big mistake to switch to 666 News,” she mumbled, feeling dizzy from Vox’s hypnotic stare. While the televisions her father provided offered viewer protection, that tech demon still found a way to make watching on even the safest televisions a risk.

Vaggie rubbed her eye. “Yeah, any word from them?” she asked, concerned for the outing trio. “Maybe I should have gone out with them as insurance… Cherri’s idea of fun is never subtle.”

The sound of the front doors being swung open echoed into the parlor, a resounding “We’re back, bitches!” from Angel Dust. “C’mon, you say it too, it’s fun!”

“Nope,” Lute’s voice replied. The trio returned from their little outing, just in time for lunch. The angel took an immediate detour to Husk’s bar before groaning. “I’ll never complain about your drinks again…!” she wheezed.

Husk let out a deep chuckle, wiping the counter. “Everything there taste like piss?”

“Tasted like piss going down, tasted like shit going back up.” She removed her mouthpiece, tucking it into her jacket next to her sheathed blade. “You got anything fruity? Or something that will get rid of this taste?”

“One Bloody Virgin Mary, it is.” Husk nodded, trying to hide the amusement from seeing Lute’s mouthpiece. He took out a bottle of spiced tomato mix from a small fridge beneath the counter and poured it into a pint glass, dashing a few drops of a spicy sauce inside and some salt and pepper before mixing it with a cocktail spoon. “No celery, unfortunately.”

Lute gulped down the mixture, gasping for air after the rather thick liquid made its way down her throat. She sighed with her tongue getting a much-needed reprieve. Like Hell was she going to eat with her tastebuds begging for mercy. Her phone buzzed. She quickly picked up her phone to see a text from Violet.

She made it back to her apartment safe and sound, with a little selfie of her living conditions. Humble but well-furnished apartment with a gaming computer in the corner. 

‘Made it home. Tysm!’ a text read.

A new selfie popped up of Violet holding a Desert Eagle with a grin, on the top of the barrel was an emblazoned pink heart. It seems she made good use of Lute’s little donation after all, with enough left over for a custom finish and ammo.

‘Nice, the gun suits you,’ Lute texted back simply. She was unsure how else to continue a text conversation, it was surreal enough she saved a sinner, but now she was having a text exchange with selfies. She caught herself smiling down at her phone.

“Huh, good on ya, kid,” Husk commented, bringing Lute back to reality. “How’d you meet her?”

“Bob cut saved the broad from gettin’ raped by some of those shark fucks at the club,” Angel answered for Lute, nudging her with a reassuring elbow as if to say it was something she shouldn’t be humble about.

“Lute did what now?” Vaggie asked, having overheard the exchange and peeking from behind the parlor door, Charlie slowly leaned into view with wide sparkling eyes and barely contained ‘eee’.

“You made a friend on your first day outside the hotel!” Charlie cheered, bouncing out from behind the door. “Please! Tell us everything!”

Lute shuffled uncomfortably. Charlie’s enthusiasm was appreciated but suffocating, the angel was trying to dodge her incoming hugs. Her dodging prowess was admirable, but not even a bullet matched the embracing arms of the princess in its accuracy, speed, and power. Lute tried pushing Charlie off at the head, silently pleading with Vaggie to reign her girlfriend in. Instead, the other angel looked at the still-open selfie on Lute’s phone lying on the counter.

“Huh… Violet? Rarely ever see her around,” Vaggie said, cocking her head. “And rocking a new hairstyle this time. Last I saw her she got her head blown off by Sir Pentious once.”

“Uh, stupid question, but angel to angel, have you ever ‘died’ in Hell?” Lute asked, curious about the whole immortality thing sinners and fallen angels may have.

“Me? Never, lost a limb or two but it always came back. I’d assume if I got my head lopped off it would just pop back onto my body. Knowledge of that is more of Lucifer’s department.”

Husk added his two cents to the discussion. “I had my whole body disintegrated once. I just kinda show up in a day according to Al. Niffty probably has experienced more ‘deaths’ than I can even count, she’s a freak like that.”

“I used to stick dynamite in my mouth and then light the fuse to get rid of a hangover. Dyin’ is one way to detox but it makes a mess.” Cherri mimed her detox by biting down on a cut fuse.

Charlie shrugged. "I'm a Hellborn, so... not sure, never tried and don't plan to. If Seviathan can have his hand cut off and re-attach it on the spot I'm sure I'd be the same. But the Von Eldriches have a whole different thing going on with their anatomy..."

"How is he, by the way?" Vaggie asked casually.

"He's fine, just a bit of family drama with his..." the princess shuddered, growling slightly, "bitch of a sister..."

Educationally terrifying, that was the phrase Lute found when they described the limits and weird benefits of immortality and death. Adam may have described it as a ‘save point’ like how humans in the living world would describe video games, something he was equally obsessed with as his taste for ribs. She never touched a controller but she got the gist instantly from watching him rage and rant at a holographic screen. “Quicksaves…” she muttered.

“Lunch’s ready!” Lucifer called out from the dining hall, his coat having been shifted into a ‘Hug the Cook’ apron with two rubber ducks embracing. He unrolled his sleeves, his apron shifting back into his coat’s usual appearance. “I hope you’re all in the mood for this new recipe I’ve been working on!”

Everyone made their way to the dining hall, anticipating a small selection. But they were met with a feast. The long table was adorned with an ornate tablecloth, and every square inch besides the empty plates was packed with a variety of dishes like it was Thanksgiving dinner. Hell Pig sandwiches, a small mountain of biscuits with caviar, Pit Crab legs, Envious Bass fillets, and the piece de resistance; Cotton Candy Cake baked by Beelzebub.

“Go on! Dig in!” he excitedly gestured, various copies of himself popping into existence to pull back a chair for everyone.

Charlie chuckled, “Dad, it’s just lunch, not a celebration.” She stepped in front of a chair to be seated.

“Nonsense! Any day without Exterminations is a cause to celebrate, especially if it makes my precious Char-Char happy!” Lucifer’s body double gently pinched Charlie’s cheek, vanishing in a puff of sparkly smoke.

“Where’s Alastor?” Lute asked, hesitantly accepting the fallen seraph’s courteous actions.

Lucifer’s expression briefly soured at the mention of his self-proclaimed rival for Charlie’s affection. “He’s in his little bayou eating deer, raw.” He cupped his mouth with one hand while shouting upwards. “Like a savage!”

He cocked an eyebrow, leaning in a bit too close for comfort before straightening.

“Huh, new hairstyle? Looks good, though you would probably look better in a mohawk.”

Lute groaned, covering her face. “Why does everyone want me to have one so badly?! Do I have the face for it or something? Is it the makeup?” She looked around, hoping for some validation.

Everyone just silently nodded, probably in on the joke too.

“Fuck you guys…” she pouted, crossing her arm while slouching. Despite her words, they had no harsh bite to them like before.

Vox adjusted his bowtie, admiring his own reflection from the mirror of the penthouse suite of the tower. “Who the man? You the man!” He was still riding the high of his announcement, already seeing record pre-orders and sales from a chart on the bottom left corner of his screen. Standing next to him was his assistant, rattling off numbers. The tech-demon couldn’t quite put a finger on it, but Chopin seemed to be rubbing his rear more often than usual. Not like he cared.

Velvette lounged on a couch, typing away with a dissatisfied stare. Valentino was too busy admiring Vox’s natural charisma, which was a nice change of pace compared to him always going on about Alastor.

“Why so glum? We’re rolling in cash and soul contracts!” Vox cackled, turning on his heel.

“Ugh… when’s it my turn to make my new fashion line announcement?” she complained, scowling at Vox. “It’s been ready before your little spy toy made it out. Ain’t it my turn now?”

Chopin cleared his throat. “It was uh… made clear, Miss Velvette, that it would be at the same time as the Lute Bot reveal.”

Velvette’s scowl grew deeper, her fury directed at the assistant. “And I don’t wanna be a fucking footnote! Also, you do know how long getting data on Lute is going to take? I’ll be seasons behind!” she growled, yanking Chopin by his tie to get right in his face. “And I am never behind on trends…”

“Woah-hoah, easy there, Velve!” Vox pulled his assistant back. “Where’s all this aggression coming from? Maybe kicking a homeless loser would help?”

Scoffing, the fashionista held up her hand while rolling her eyes, rapid-fire texting all over Sinstagram.

“Ooh I know that look…!” Valentino chuckled, also getting into her personal space. “That’s the same face you make after dealing with Carmilla after the Overlord meetings.” 

Velvette froze, her scowl now a mask of fury as her body began twitching uncontrollably. Her arms began splitting into three each with the cacophony of wooden joints cracking. She took a deep breath, her arms recombining. Velvette despised her demonic aspect, finding it hideous. The only time she had ever used it was when she first became an Overlord and was approached by Vox to become part of the V’s, seeing him as a threat.

She still does, though even someone as catty and self-centered as herself has to admire his ambition.

“Look, Velve, if it makes you feel any better, we can host one outfit of your clothing line live tomorrow,” Vox said, taking the time to make sure his bowtie was on straight then seating himself between her and Valentino, tugging them in close. “Just one, though. We wanna keep those suckers salivating…”

Velvette groaned, “Only one…? Fine…” She tugged herself away just as her colleagues started making out much to her and Chopin’s displeasure. “By the way, I do have another favor to ask.”

“Hm?” Vox mumbled through a mouthful of Valentino’s tongue.

“I want to be the one to keep tabs on our little angel project. It’ll give me something to do while you fine-tune the bots.” She held her breath, watching as he took a moment to mull it over. “Also, y’know,” Velvette pointed to herself, “I’m the girl for diggin’ dirt!”

The tech demon gave his partner a spank to free his mouth, shrugging. “Fuck it, why not?” He went back to his activities, leaving Velvette to exit the room feeling victorious and disgusted.

Lute stared at her stacked plate, chewing through what could possibly be her fourth crab leg the size of her thigh. Her eyes were bigger than her stomach yet she couldn’t find it in herself to stop eating. Maybe it was the hospitality making it difficult to refuse another helping from the ever-eccentric king of Hell? Or just the feeling of gluttony at its purest? From what she was taught, gluttony as a sin was overindulgence, but never anything about savoring what one ingests. She looked around, seeing everyone else sharing the same struggle.

Niffty was passed out on her plate, a small hill of caviar covering her face, Husk trying to hide the fact he was enjoying the Envious Bass a bit too much with large spaced-out bites.

Charlie and Vaggie were sharing sandwiches while giggling like a high school couple.

Cherri Bomb and Angel Dust on either side of Lute, basically inhaling the crab legs, Angel doing so with less… grace… did he just stroke the shell? Why is the meat actually responding?

“So uhm, Charlie. I think I might have news that would make this celebratory lunch worth even more,” Lute awkwardly piped up, placing her utensil to the side. “You know that whole spiel about redemption and getting into Heaven?”

“Doubtful that it would be good news coming from Heaven besides Lilith coming home…” Lucifer grunted.

“It works.”

“...Come again?”

The table, minus Niffty was at full attention, Cherri and Angel were shaking with excitement.

“It. Works,” Lute repeated. “The Exterminations were halted, and the Exorcists disbanded because Pentious made it through. I’m sorry I never told any of you earlier but I was still bitter…”

The table shook as Charlie practically launched herself over, grabbing Lute by the shoulders and shaking her excitedly. “HE’S ALIVE?! HE’S IN HEAVEN?! OHMYGOSHOHMYGOSH!” She bounced on her toes.

Angel whispered over to the cyclops bomber. “Hyperactive shoulder shake, you owe me 5 Hellbucks.”

“Bugger…” Cherri reluctantly tossed over a few Hell Dollars Angel’s way, having hoped for Charlie to burst into song.

“We need to tell everyone! They’ll finally know the hotel works!” Charlie was bouncing all over the place, stopping to cuddle her girlfriend.

“Woah woah…” Vaggie chuckled, trying to keep Charlie still. “As much as I would love to, Lute may have had a point keeping it a secret.”

“I have?” Lute stared mystified by what the other angel meant by that.

“Think of it this way… if an Overlord or group like The V’s knew we actually work in saving souls, this hotel and everything we worked for would be at risk…” Vaggie said with regret in her voice seeing Charlie deflate at that fact. “They would see us as a threat to their contracts…”

And I thought I was pragmatic. Lute thought to herself.

“She’s right,” Husk rumbled. “Alastor and Rosie may not give much of a shit since the majority of souls they have are willing to stay in Hell. You could wave Heaven in front of Niffty and she’d be clinging to the boss-man like her afterlife depended on it. But Overlords like The V’s whose empire is built on desperate suckers looking for an out? They won’t hesitate to fuck this whole operation.” He looked over at Charlie. “Sorry, kid, but we gotta keep it all on the down-low and keep doing the usual.”

Charlie sighed, her brief moment of sadness giving way to optimism. Sir Pentious was alive and redeemed; it was a huge step—no, a leap—in proving to Heaven that sinners can change for the better. If her message made it through regarding Lute, then it was only a matter of time before either Emily or Sera allow him to visit, hopefully with her mother in tow.

“Hey uhm, I’m gonna go back to my room I need to sleep off this food…” Lute pushed her chair back. “Thanks for the meal, and congratulations.” She stumbled off, turning back around to sheepishly grab her still-uneaten slice of cake. “Gonna just… eat that in my room.”

Once reaching the stairs in the lobby she couldn’t stop herself from gasping for air like she was suffocating. Everyone else was all joy and cheer, still very much loudly celebrating, she just felt tense the whole way through. But it was a relief, a weight off her shoulders with but one secret she intended to keep; the metal box. Now that she recalled it, she never did open it or even tried to with her current state. Not like she could break it against something either without making a mess or potentially damaging the contents.

Returning to her room she placed the plate on her bedside table, reaching down to rub he rbelly. Or more or less grab a small handful. She winced in slight revulsion that she was letting herself go this badly, then reached around back, freezing at the handful she was gripping next.

“...Nah,” she denied, “My ass has always just been this big, just never really noticed it before is all.” No matter how Lute tried to rationalize it, she felt like she was letting herself go. Though… now that she looked at herself, she wondered what Adam would have thought about it. She could already see the double thumbs up and probably being nicknamed ‘Danger Ass’ or something similar.

Lute shook her head, undressing herself until she was just in her underwear, and sat back in bed, placing her phone to her right with the cake still to her left on the table. She tapped on her contacts list and gave Violet a call. Violet may have been a new friend, but something about her made Lute want to confide in her. Talking to Charlie felt more akin to a drawn-out therapy session and everyone else had their own issues weighing them down. For now, she just needed someone to talk to.

The phone rang for only a second before it picked up.

“Oh! Loop! What a coincidence I was just gonna give ya a ring!” Violet’s cheerful voice came from the phone. “Somethin’ on your mind?”

“Kinda, I just need someone to talk to. About anything really, you got time?”

“I’ve got all afternoon,” Violet reassured.

Chapter Text

Sir Pentious softly snored, curled up in his bed. His inexplicably living hat also slept within a small pillow fort near his head. It had taken the inventor a long time to get used to sleeping alone without his Egg Boiz, mourning them did take a great deal of stress. He missed their stupid conspiracy theories, their goofy shenanigans, and their guileless cheer and unquestioning loyalty. Alas, they were but artificial, with no soul to call their own.

That didn’t mean they weren’t their own living things, far from it. Which made the pain of grief all the worse.

His slumber was interrupted by the curtains being drawn open, letting in the sunshine. He flinched, his eyes adjusting to the brightness. “Mmm…?” he groggily hissed.

“Good morning, Sir Pentious.” Sera was standing above him, in a demure pose. “I hope you’re well rested?” she asked with a smile.

The angelic serpent returned the smile, blinking wearily. “I have, Miss Sera. I’ve just been up all night, as usual.”

The Seraph looked over to a small corner of the bedroom, seeing the hodgepodge of mechanical instruments on a reading table. She walked over to the pile and picked one up before her guest could stop her. A metal sphere with a camera, a simple seamless design. Inspecting it closer, the device blinked a red light from its lens and then projected a one-to-one copy of Sera that copied her actions perfectly for the briefest of moments before short-circuiting. She nonchalantly enclosed the device in a bubble of holy light, a muffled ‘boom’ being heard within.

“Still trying to improve the holograms?” she asked, amused but impressed with his progress. The explosions have become a welcome spark of excitement in her abode, and with each failure came improvement.

Pentious chuckled sheepishly, placing his hat on his head with his hood flattening to resemble long hair neatly. “I’ve been developing a way for them to receive stimuli,” he lisped, ”But I just can’t seem to get around the overheating problem…”

Sera did feel rather odd when the hologram was active as if she was feeling the sun on her skin twice over. Her feathers raised all over her wings, then relaxed.

“And the feedback loop…” he added. “For some reason, it doubles external stimuli.”

That feedback loop did indeed have a lot of kick to it, he must have experimented on himself. Sera’s wings ruffled at the thought of someone subjecting their own body for scientific progress like that.

“Would you care to join Emily and me for breakfast before we continue with discussions of the upcoming court date with Lilith?” Sera offered, patting down her dress. “I’m sure you still have questions that need answering.”

Pentious raised a hand. “I do have one. Would I be allowed to visit Hell after this is all over?”

Sera considered her next words very carefully. By all rights, he did have friends down in the hotel that he couldn’t sever ties to that easily. But the rules were in place for a reason. If a winner could just as easily drop by Hell for a visit unsupervised billions would have done so. Looking into his hopeful smile, however… she couldn’t bring herself to deny him outright or lie to his face.

“While the rules of Heaven are clear… I can sanction supervised visits, however, in the event you get your little hologram machine working, I’m sure we can bump that up to full autonomous visits between here and the hotel. Deal?”

Pentious sat up, enthusiastically nodding. “Deal!”

Sera chuckled at his unbridled joy, shaking her head. “Very well, see you downstairs.” She bowed her head, leaving his room.

Molly nervously stood at the counter for her restaurant, eyeing the door. She and February had drawn up a brief plan to meet up later tonight at Adam’s home, but that wasn’t what was scaring her shitless. She was fully expecting Fuse to walk in, and she most likely wouldn’t come alone.

If the angel did, she would have to commit each additional face to memory. Every detail, every habit or action they would do. She had also applied hidden microphones within the portraits of Italy lining the walls of the booths, an odd action in Heaven but it made the seldom-selling security electronics shop happy at the very least.

From the window, she saw a familiar red ponytail approaching from the crosswalk.

“Oh gosh… oh no…” Molly whimpered, taking deep breaths. “You’re ready for this, you’re a strong girl…!” She patted her cheeks to get her head in the game. The door jingled with Fuse entering, followed by another woman dressed in a suit and aviator shades. “Heyyy! Fuse! Glad you can make it!” Molly greeted with a slightly tight voice, grinning. She tried to look extra casual by leaning against the counter.

“‘Sup,” Fuse returned the greeting curtly, she was dressed in beige cargo pants with a white tank top. She gestured to the intimidatingly tall woman in a barely-fitting business suit accompanying her. “I’d like to introduce my friend, she was interested in this place after I mentioned it.”

The taller woman nodded, speaking in a clear deep Texan accent. “I heard yer pizza was good. Name’s Cleet.”

“She’s a girl of few words but trust me, she’s a doll!” Fuse giggled, nudging Cleet.

“What… unique name!” Molly chuckled awkwardly. “So what can I make for the both of you?”

“Meatlovers, extra cheese for me,” the red-haired angel requested.

Cleet squinted at the menu board. “Neopolitan, marinara version.”

Molly nodded, noting down their orders before slinking out the side of the counter, leading the women to their designated table while her bottom pair of arms picked up finished dishes from the vacant tables on the way. She could feel their gaze burning a hole into the back of her head. They were watching her like a hawk. Was she laying it on thick? Did she make herself too suspicious?

“Thank ya kindly,” Cleet grunted, taking her seat in the booth. “Water, please.”

“Of course!” Molly nodded, looking towards Fuse who indifferently leaned back. “How about you?”

“Coffee, black with two cubes of sugar on the side, please.”

Molly quickly went about preparing the coffee, running back and forth from behind her counter to the table to leave a jug of water and two glasses. While she was brewing the coffee with the espresso machine she kept her eye on the women without trying to look too obvious.

Fuse seemed to be staring intently at Cleet, who returned the stare with equal intensity. “Out with it,” she groaned quietly. “What’s got you all stuck up?”

“Was it really wise t’do what we did?” Cleet whispered.

The red-haired angel looked ready to burst into flames, pursing her lips and shaking her head as if to say ‘Not this shit again.’ “Bit late for second thoughts, for the billionth fucking time… we did what we had to. I didn’t make you my second-in-command to fucking-”

“Shh… ya idjit, don’t get all heated up here. Too many winners,” the larger angel chastised, her face partially unreadable behind her aviators. “How about we reconvene at ‘the place’ and discuss our next move.”

Fuse’s face twisted from barely contained rage to that of grim nostalgia, humming Waltz of the Flowers. “She really did take it like a champ…” she swooned, earning a disgusted sneer from Cleet.

“Pizza’s ready!” Molly broke through their conversation with two plates of medium pizzas and a cup of espresso. “Enjoy!”

The spider darted off quickly, resisting the temptation to sprout her additional two legs to avoid being in the same vicinity of those two for too long. She didn’t catch their conversation continuing as she left behind the counter, at least not until she could review the tape, but the way they were looking at each other just felt all sorts of wrong. Other customers began slowly making their way out, dropping donations in a tip jar as they left. They all looked uneasy.

Now it was just her, and two angels…

She watched intently as her two remaining customers ate in deafening silence. The more she watched, the more details she committed to memory, such as how Fuse’s wings twitched when irritated, or how Cleet would run her hand through her short hair when her eyes would meet Fuse’s.

Those two clearly knew each other well, but there was a deep tension. A clash of morals? Ideals? Methods even?

The two angels nodded to one another. As if agreeing on something.

Molly gulped, sweating bullets as the two got up and began approaching her counter. She put on her best grin, imagining all the ways a behemoth like Cleet would fold her like a napkin or the ways Fuse would break her spine.

Her panic was shattered when Cleet placed both empty plates on the counter with a small smile. “Thanks fer the meal, was delish.”

“Mhm, good stuff, did not disappoint,” Fuse agreed, placing a handful of bills in the tip jar.

Molly nodded. “Thank you for visiting Fettuccia! Please come again!” she replied on instinct, holding her breath.

“Oh, we will!” the red-haired angel drawled, hands in her pockets. Her eyes were locked firmly onto Molly’s, never even shifting—like an inferno waiting to spread. She lifted her hand to her face, holding both sugar cubes between her fingers. "Wanna play a quick game before we leave?"

Cleet paused at the door, looking over her shoulder at Fuse as if to deter her. A raised hand silenced any objection.

"W-What kind of game?" Molly responded, eyeing the sugar cubes suspiciously, were they in her pocket this whole time?

Fuse shook her head. "Game of chance. I toss them up, and you guess one of three outcomes. They both make it, they both don't, or they're separated."

Molly couldn't even comprehend such a sudden request. What concerned her however were the unspoken stakes.

"Three." The angel was counting down.

"Uhh... uhm..."

"Two." Fuse's eyes seemed to light up.

"I-"

"Three!" The two sugar cubes were catapulted into the air with a deft flick of Fuse's wrist. Time seemed to slow down as Molly watched them fly like glazed dice. Cleet was watching her accomplice reach for something in one of the pockets of the cargo pants.

"B-Both... N-No! Uh... both go in!" Molly snapped, covering her eyes.

A sickening pair of crunches followed as Fuse chewed on them like bonbons. After a few slow, methodical chews, she swallowed, sweetly smiling. "You win."

The pair finally left, the closing door jingling as a signal for the spider to finally exhale, nearly collapsing back against one of her coffee machines with a soft clatter. Her eyes were vibrating with pure terror, those two angels were monsters. That smile, that godforsaken smile Fuse gave as she congratulated Molly on winning this bet. The smile that told her she knew where the buried bodies were, and that the grave was still open for more…

Molly curled up on the floor, hyperventilating. “She… could have… ended me… right here…”

Lute mumbled as her afternoon alarm blared, she feebly reached over to silence the plastic brick. Instead, her hand met with the sticky slice of cake she barely touched with a soft splat, too engrossed in her conversation with Violet last night over the phone to eat.

“Man…” she whined. She tried to salvage what was left of the cake in her hand by at least tasting it. “Man…!” she groaned even louder, it was fucking delicious.

Her eyes shot open at the sudden sugar rush, suddenly feeling like she had drunk over a cooler’s worth of sodas before suddenly dropping back to reality. That was some strong cake. She licked off the remaining residue on her hand while walking to the bathroom to wash it off completely, savoring the sweet flavor.

Lute suddenly catapulted out of the bathroom, fumbling for her phone after landing on her bed. She just remembered she was still on a call with Violet! She checked her messages, a few were there.

‘Lol, sweet dreams.’

‘You were snoring into the mic btw.’

‘And u accidentally sent me a jungle of text, lol, dm me when u’re awake.’

‘Jumble*’

‘Nah actually, jungle is a good one.’

The angel felt her face flush gold with absolute embarrassment. The first proper out-of-hotel friend she makes in Hell, and she passes out mid-conversation. She tapped out a reply.

‘I’m awake, sorry, I think the beer knocked me out like a light.’

Instantly read. Three dots in a text box appeared.

‘U’re good, wanna hang out? Slow day.’

Before Lute could stop herself, she replied on full autopilot.

‘Sure, the park near the hotel?’

Shit, shit, shit!

She tried to delete the message, but it was responded to by a thumbs-up emoji. Lute couldn’t help but laugh softly at herself. “Fuck me. How does Charlie make it look so easy?”

Chapter Text

Velvette tiredly lumbered in her walk-in closet, which may as well be a whole shopping area with the amount of clothes on racks. She had to attend a few meetings and interviews before lunch, not to mention the surveillance on that angel. Vox expected a report every other day, though with the production of the bodies complete as well as data from Lute when she was a zealot it felt more like pointless busywork for the fashionista.

She inspected an outfit, then snapped her fingers, an assistant in a dress suit stepped in, taking it off the rack for her Overlord to look over. She was a lithe succubus, one of the few Hellborn in Velvette's employ. Reddish-pink skin, with brass-like blonde hair done up in a bun with flat parted bangs.

“Yeah, that’ll do for this season, Brass. Have some designers cut some holes to expose the thighs and shoulders and double the price,” she ordered.

The assistant nodded dutifully, taking the dress with her as she left.

“Fucking finally…” Velvette groaned, spinning her phone to fire off messages rapidly. Satisfied with causing yet another argument in the comments of her latest fashion selfie, she began her strut towards the elevator, pulling out a key. She inserted it into where the call button would usually be and twisted, the doors opening with a chime. To keep the riff-raff from getting to the penthouse or administrative sections, special keys were required by the V’s and their assistants.

She stepped in and pressed the interview room floor button. Looks like it was time to get some new hires, specifically in the social media sector. A few fresh sinners had just dropped in and were applying as a group. Two birds with one stone, more souls, more workers.

Her assigned interview room, just opposite the casting couch room, had 3 sinners waiting. Velvette stopped and gawked at their idea of fashion, flat-brimmed caps, saggy jeans… oversized puffer jackets. She shuddered. That needs to be sorted out after the interview.

Velvetted opened the door and stepped strut past them to her desk, taking her seat in a large spinning chair with a flair before placing her feet on the table. She picked a clipboard and pen nearby.

“So, you boys looking to join VoxTek?”

One of the puffer-boys with a single protruding horn spoke up. “Fr, my squad and I were tryna vibe here, heard this spot slaps fam.”

Velvette rapidly blinked a few times, her smile stationary and her pupils dilated with confusion. “Could you… Repeat that?”

“Heard this spot’s lit for grinding on stuff, no cap.”

With her thumb, Velvette snapped her pencil. She nodded slightly, her face still the same. “Uh-huh?”

“No cap, I ain't got a res', but me and the squad can flex our skills for ya.”

“Zero to pissed in a moment, my goodness you have talent,” Velvette whispered aloud. She didn’t want to deal with this lot anymore. “Fuck it, you’re hired, just sign your names here and you’ll be on your way to ‘grinding on stuff’.” She manifested three soul contracts and a single ornate quill, sliding them over to the trio of brainrotten clout-chasers.

They signed without hesitation, high-fiving one another before the leader tried to high-five her. The nerve! A trio of ethereal cerise-colored chains locked around their throats, snaking their way into Velvette’s chest before going taught, she winced slightly as a blue and pink spark pair zig-zagged from her chest. The contracts were sealed.

“Ayo, where we vibin’ next, fam?”

“...The elevator button with the smartphone icon, even you can recognize symbols,” Velvette said sharply, pointing with her chin to the door for them to leave. “Your jobs are to endorse VoxTek brands, and welcome aboard, influencers 78, 79, and 80. My assistant Brass will be with you shortly to allocate your duties.”

Poor Brass...

With that mentally taxing train wreck out of the way, Velvette slammed her head onto the table. It never gets any easier. Building an image was the easiest part for her, but maintaining it was another story when she was supposed to be the ‘sassy bad bitch’. She almost went berserk on them for a moment. Part of her wished that she did, and turned them away, but every new soul was a step closer to full dominion over the Pride Ring.

Velvette sighed, practically kicking herself away from the desk. “I think I need a pick-me-up…”

She took the elevator back to her suite and made a quick dash to her kitchenette, plucking a glass bottle with a black skull cork out of her fridge. Instead of drinking it right away, she made sure everything was blocked out from the outside world, drawing curtains, turning off her phone, and placing any photos face down or facing away.

Velvette placed the bottle in front of a vanity mirror and uncorked it. She stared at herself, judgingly, letting it all sink in. Every detail of her face and body. She picked up the bottle and drank it all down to the last drop, crushing the remains from the overwhelmingly sweet taste while she pursed her lips.

Coughing off the kick, Velvette returned to glaring at herself until she smiled.

Lute was in full disguise, waiting at the fairly underpopulated park, the hotel a sprint away. A few demons were just hanging around, smoking, or playing no-stakes poker on the concrete. One was hitting a particularly nasty grind on the guardrail with a skateboard after a kickflip. So that at least was something cool.

She checked her phone for any texts, but nothing so far from Violet.

Tucking it away, the angel sat down on one of the steps, trying not to look conspicuous.

Most of the sinners who hang here are either on the fence of joining the hotel, or just looking for a safe spot within running distance — a popular place for the younger ones, or those with meeker personalities. Seeing the group at the card table groan and laugh because one drew a full house yet had no hostility with one another gave Lute a moment to reflect on her past beliefs.

What sins could they have committed to end up with those worse than them for eternity? Now that she thought of it, what sins did Violet commit? Surely nothing so bad that she deserved to be most likely turned into a loan shark’s plaything if Lute didn’t step in.

Lute grimaced while staring at the floor, pondering why she deserved Heaven when she once embodied unjust wrath guised as justice. As far as she was concerned, she still deserved to be in Hell regardless of how she was sent.

“How the fuck did a sociopsycho bitch like Fuse get in?” she whispered to herself. “Maybe the entrance requirements were just straight-up bullshit after all.”

“Loop!” Violet’s cheery voice rang out through the murmurs of the poker players. “Sorry I’m late, had a bit o’ trouble with my commute.” She passed by them, giving a ‘sup’ nod with a grin to which they returned. To them, she passed the vibe check. “So, how’re ya?” The short woman planted herself next to Lute, her mohawk bouncing a little.

“Could be better.” Lute shrugged, rubbing her shoulder nervously. “Wicked hangover from the club. Did those assholes give you any trouble on the way back to your apartment?”

Violet giggled darkly, pulling her jacket open to one side, showing her holstered gun. “They tried, now they gotta grow their plums back.” She mimicked aiming down and pulling the trigger. “Peow, peow!”

“Huh, where’d you even find a DEagle anyway?”

“Eh… Carmilla has a shop set up somewhere. You know, the Overlord arms dealer.”

Lute looked instantly panicked at the mention of ‘Overlord’, her eyes darting to the gun and her new friend. “Please tell me you didn’t—”

“—Sell my soul? Mm-mm.” She shook her head, closing her jacket. “Not a chance, Carmilla may be a bit of a hard-knock bitch, but she does make quality worth cash. Why the sudden panic? Your soul owned by one and tryna save lil’ old me again by givin’ a fair warning?”

“If my soul were owned by anyone, I would have rather gotten skewered.”

Both women sat silently, letting Lute’s words settle. They had no hesitation and had the utmost seriousness in tone and execution. She would rather risk non-existence than be tethered by chains to someone at their beck and call.

Violet sympathetically nodded, understanding what she meant. “I get it, being under someone’s thumb. Being a slave, lapdog, employee, or associate…” She chuckled. “Sorry, just thought that out of all Overlords, Rosie might just be the best to be with. It’s like an HOA but ironically less evil,  and there’s the risk of being nibbled on. Not that I’m interested.”

Lute shuddered, still imagining the smell of burning angel flesh. “Being within close proximity of Alastor is enough Overlord for me.” She could still smell that Tupperware container in a doggy bag he once casually strolled into the lobby with that one day, both she and Vaggie couldn’t stop gagging for hours. Angel flesh had a very distinct scent, like apple-infused honey mixed with rotting tree bark, a sweet aroma compounded with stench comparable to inhaling fumes from a fire pit. Horrendous.

“Ok, new topic. How did you end up in Hell?” Lute asked, wanting to be sure about who she was hanging out with. “I can… go first if you want me to.”

“Sure, watcha do?”

“Uhm… murder, assault, hate crimes, using God’s name in vain to justify those acts.” It wasn’t a lie; the fallen angel pretty much had committed those acts, mostly to sinners. But her true life before becoming an angel held just as much truth. Lute expected judgmental stares from everyone in the vicinity as she hadn’t exactly been quiet.

“Ah, zealot,” Violet chuckled with a nod, summarizing Lute’s sins with a single word. “Trust me, you’re not the first, neither the last.” The group playing poker nodded, one raising a thumb to themselves as a former zealot too.

“Heh… how about you?”

“I once got several people to commit suicide after ruining their lives…” Violet said, looking rather glum. “Yeah, ‘once’ is sometimes more than enough to damn you. I know why I’m here, but the thing is, I’m not sorry for what I did. They deserved it…” Violet clenched her fists, taking deep, calming breaths. “Fuck… sorry, I just get so heated up about it. Ever see the movie ‘The Devil Wears Prada’?”

“Can’t say I have, might check it out.”

The smaller woman pulled out a pack of what looked like cigarettes, thumping the bottom with her thumb to expose one. She offered one to Lute who gently shook her head with her hand held up politely. Violet placed the exposed end in her mouth and pulled out a lighter. Taking a few puffs and then a long drag Violet exhaled a plume of thick red and white smoke that smelled quite rank. Lute could smell it quite vividly, seems her friend was also a pothead.

“Ahhh!” Violet stretched, leaning further back into her seated posture with a lazy, glazed-over stare. “Much fucking better…”

“Y’know what? Fuck it, pass me one, please.”

“Ayyy, there ya go!”

Lute placed the end of the blunt disguised as a cigarette in her mouth and let her friend light up the other end. She inhaled slowly, then coughed. This was some strong stuff. Thank goodness Exorcist masks allow for ingestion to complete the illusion that this was her real mouth.

I am already having second thoughts about my deci—

The high hit her like a pound of bricks, sending her mind reeling into a whole new dimension. It felt like she was witnessing her life in fast-forward from the perspective of everyone she knew, all at once. Their happiness, gratitude, sadness, anger, scorn, and confusion. That and more, several lifetimes of experience bundled into a fraction of a second as Lute experienced ego death.

She exhaled a plume of her own with a heavy sigh, though this one was golden with white wisps.

“What is this stuff?” Lute asked slowly, her expression making her look absolutely zooted out of her mind, the cat-like smirk of her mouthpiece a wide, guileless grin. “It ain’t weed…!” She tried not to laugh uncomfortably.

“Some of the good shit I yoinked off those sharks. Sloth Ring meds for therapy, I think? Don’t matter, but this stuff makes you see your whole life on a loop. Like watching a movie with every puff a different chapter. I think it’s meant for trauma victims to face their shit literally. Been usin' it to fly down memory lane.”

No fucking shit, I just lived through Adam’s death again.

Lute raised it to her lips again then froze. Every experience, even… that one. Her hand lowered, pinching the cigarette between her fingers. “I… can’t continue smoking this, sorry I wasted it.”

“Some real fucked up shit?”

“Some real fucked up shit.”

Violet nodded, understanding Lute’s reluctance. “If you change your mind, I got extras, no worries.”

They sat in silence, interrupted by Violet occasionally puffing from hers. It was a calm experience with just the sprawling cityscape as background noise. Violent background noise from the chaos associated with sinners and their shenanigans, but not unsettling. The poker players have since packed up the deck and are now checking their phones, gawking at something. Lute looked around, noticing that a few other sinners are also staring at their phones. Was it screentime or something?

Lute’s phone buzzed, getting a text from Angel Dust. She tried ignoring it. But another came from Vaggie, Cherri Bomb, then Husk, then the one that cinched it: Charlie. “Uhm…?”

She finally opened her messages, being barraged by a wall of text and a live broadcast link.

‘WTF IS VOXTEK DOING?’ Vaggie texted in all caps.

Confused, yet curious. Lute tapped the link with her thumb just as Violet was leaning in to see what the excitement was all about.

Velvette posed in front of the camera in her usual attire and bouncy pigtails, her back to it. The studio lights on a lengthy catwalk began lighting up one by one, eventually fully illuminating her at the end.

With a snap of her finger, Velvette spun while swiping right. With a cerise explosion of mist encasing the whole studio, she vanished in silhouette, her hairstyle visibly changed as did her outfit’s outline. “Do you wanna fuck an angel?” her voice echoed through the fog. “You wanna show Heaven that they aren’t the only ones to look good in black and white?”

Her silhouette began strutting forward through the mist, the synth music starting.

“Who says you can’t?”

Velvette finally appeared through the mist, her outfit and hairstyle now completely different. She was wearing the first modified Exorcist outfit she found perfect, her hair styled into long curly locks that bounced with each toe-to-heel strut, hands on her thighs to swing her hips.

Upon reaching the end of the catwalk, Velvette turned around, exposing her bare back and nape. She stared over her shoulder seductively, blowing a kiss to the camera. She shook her hips to the music, then twirled back around to cross her arms, grinning dominantly. She began to slowly lean forward until her elbows were touching the floor with her chin resting on her arms, her legs in a decent spread to accommodate her gymnastically challenging pose.

“Ta-ta, darlings!” Velvette purred, “Stay tuned for more— oops!”

As she stood up, the choker holding the top snapped, the flap of fabric falling down into a censor bar with the text ‘subscribe 4 uncensored’. Playfully, the Overlord raised her eyebrow, as if daring anyone to actually do so, winking as a heart-shaped iris filter closed out the live broadcast.

Violet was cringing heavily, Lute was too stunned to speak; this was going to be a long week.

Chapter Text

News spread like wildfire over Velvette’s daring new fashion line taking direct inspiration from their former tormentors. Stores were selling out fast, and pre-orders were actually crashing VoxTek servers. It was Exorcist-mania. The biggest payday so far.

Yet it was of course a precursor to what would eventually grace Hell.

Vox was laughing maniacally, his entire screen showing a steeply inclining green line that comically busted through the top. “Holy shit! It’s like printing the stuff!” he proclaimed with dollar signs exploding from his eyes, seated in his control chair with wires attached to him. “Suck it, Alastor! The Vee’s are top of the heap!” Vox began humping the air in a ‘hoo-ha!’ gesture. “Top! Of! The! Heap! Gyahahahaha!” His sharks in the gargantuan tank surrounding his control room were swimming actively and thrashing about, as if feeding off his positivity.

Each monitor was a visual feed of profits, sales, and social media. All being directly fed into his electronic brain with vibrant pulses.

“Congratulations, sir,” a cold voice blankly praised. “You are number one.”

“Damn right, I am!” He pointed with two hands over to the dark corner of his control center, a podium with a head bathed in shadows, wires snaking off of it into the ceiling, and a single red glowing eye.

“Do you wish for me to engage in celebratory protocol, baby?” the voice in the dark corner requested flatly with all the emotion of an AI voice. “Error, body not found.”

Vox shuddered, the voice was too off-putting. “No, just, shut up and shut off for now.”

“Password to initiate command.”

“Fuck what was it again…?” The television demon rubbed his chin. “Klaatu barada nikto?”

"Incorrect."

"Fuck me..." Vox groaned slightly annoyed.

“Password accepted, goodnight, sir.” The voice deepened as it powered down, despite Vox's confusion and irritation. Time to make a change to the password...

The door swung open, Velvette strutting in looking quite pissed. “Did you have Val fucking rewrite my script a minute before the shoot?” she snapped in an accusatory tone. “I did not approve for my tits ending up all over LustHub!”

The wires connecting Vox to his control panel detached, allowing him to swivel his chair around to meet his fellow Vee’s gaze with his ankle crossed over his thigh. “Chill, it’s behind a paywall.”

Velvette flexed her fingers, holding her palms up trembling. “That doesn’t make it any better! I’m not one of my models, that’s their job to flash the goods while showing off my goods! I’m not some tramp! Also paywalls for porn are unreliable as shit and you damn well know it!”

“You’re the face of the product, only made sense for you to fill in until we bookend it with the Lutebots.”

“F-Fill..Fill…” Velvette was enraged beyond words, her body contorting as her shadow grew. Her business associate stared bemused, his eyes following her growth until it nearly reached the ceiling. Her arms split into three each, wooden crackling noises accompanying each twitch. The fashionista’s towering dusky form lunged down to eye level, four glowing eyes glaring as she roared, “ FILL IN? ”

“Ya.” Vox steepled his fingers after drumming them together and leaned back, undisturbed and uninterested in Velvette’s temper tantrum. “Fill in, remember, our flagship product is those bots. Which reminds me…” his tone becomes more intimidating, the screens all over flicking to a fragmented view of his face looking infinitely more angered than he truly was right now for this slight transgression. “You have something for me?” He held out his hand expectantly while all the fight left Velvette’s eyes. 

She reverted and pulled out a flash drive from her pocket, practically tossing it at him.

Vox plugged it into his main system, and a cacophony of electric jolts and screeches erupted. Blue electricity began surging directly into the head on a podium, illuminating it as a recreation of Lute’s head, though partially finished with one-half of it being a bare mechanical skull similar to a Terminator. As the surge ended, a progress bar displayed from a holographic projection coming from the red glowing eye in the Lute Bot’s cranium.

20%.

“S-Sir,” Lutebot Prime’s voice glitched, though gaining more emotion in its tone, “I-I A, d, dht, sinners!” It shut down afterward.

“Keep doin’ what you're doin’,” Vox bluntly commanded, turning away with a dismissive wave of his hand.

That was the end of that conversation as far as he was concerned. Velvette bit her lip, choking back any verbal venom she could throw his way. The fucking nerve, she was the backbone of The Vees! Without her expertise, they wouldn’t even be able to advertise barbeque sauce to Cannibal Town! She instead scoffed and walked away, she still had her orders…

That glorified flatscreen and pompous moth think that because she was the youngest Overlord they can edge her out of due credit and just be a pretty face. She was a woman with ambition, damn it! Granted, Valentino pulled his weight in leading the largest sex industry in all of Hell second to Asmodeus and Vox was the tech genius. But she was the brand’s glue, always keeping a level head when one or both of her two co-leaders acted like a child over something trivial like rivalries and concerns about one of their employees living at that hotel.

It felt like she was more of a nanny than an equal. Sure The Vees share businesses, such as Velvette sharing her models— reluctantly— with Val when he was running thin from clients, and him sharing his special pheromone for her Love Potion, also reluctantly. It was a symbiotic partnership, but it made money. But who has to make the adverts look good? Velvette. Who has to manage the social media of VoxTek as a whole? Velvette. Who has to make sure both overgrown toddlers don’t tear the place apart when they get pissy? Fucking Velvette.

She continued to stalk her way through the tower, seething. Her assistant Brass was waiting for her, datapad clutched to her chest. “Ma’am?” she asked, concerned.

“Not now, Brass…” Velvette sighed, running her fingers through her hair to try and relax while striding. “Unless you got good news that doesn’t involve those two pricks I don’t wanna hear it.”

Brass ran to catch up, holding the datapad up for her boss while they walked with a small smirk. “It is. Your new import supply came in fresh from the Sloth Ring. We also have confirmation from Asmodeus that your new graphics card is ready for delivery.”

Finally, some good news. 

“Good work, Brass.”

“And your Cinnamon Dolce Latte.” Brass procured a Sinsbucks vente-sized cup, with whipped cream and cinnamon dust coating its peaks.

“See, this is why I hired you.” Velvette took the cup with a surprisingly genuine smile. “This coffee is so far the second-best thing that’s happened to me today.” She took a deep sip of her treat.

“What’s the first, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Lute?” Charlie waved a hand in front of Lute, no response. “Hello? You… you there?”

Lute blinked, trying not to explode with fury. Her uniform, something she took pride in, was defiled into a fetish outfit. The uniform was long defiled by her own hand and her former battle sisters, so would she truly be righteous in her rage?

“But why now?” she whispered to herself, “Why wait until now and not right after sir— Adam— died?”

After watching that live broadcast, Lute became briefly catatonic, staring into the distance. With Violet’s help, though, she made it back to the hotel in one piece, her friend having to carry her like a stiff board the entire way from the park. For such a short woman, she was surprisingly strong. Angel Dust was at work when this happened, so he wasn’t around to explain everything in person yet, no doubt Valentino would supply him with one of those outfits in his size for the next shoot.

“Alright…” Vaggie groaned, digging deep into her drill sergeant voice. “Soldier! At ease!”

On instinct, Lute snapped out of her daze, performing a flawless military salute with her right hand.

“I said at ease,” Vaggie repeated, softer this time now that she had the angel’s attention. “You okay?”

Lute shook her head, letting her arm fall to her side. “This uniform meant a lot…”

“How so? To us it’s just a raggy symbol of oppression,” Husk commented. “Not worth getting all worked up over because of a new fashion trend. I’ve seen more kinky nuns runnin' around than you can shake a stick at.”

“Husk!” Charlie gasped.

“No… he’s right, but also fuck you,” Lute looked towards the winged feline with a tired glare. “The outfit meant more than just being a soldier. And no, not Adam’s fetishes, I know that’s what one of you is thinking…”

Cherri raised her hand while lounging nearby, shamelessly pointing herself out while swirling a whiskey shot.

“It was a symbol of virtue and camaraderie, to face evil head-on. Like—”

“Saint Michael,” the one-eyed angel spoke aloud, Charlie’s hands clamping on her lips. “Mmm?!”

“Sorry, but you know how dad gets when he hears that name…”

“I heard,” he sighed from the doorway. “Don’t worry, Maggie, I’m not mad.”

Vaggie sheepishly cleared her throat before correcting him, “Vaggie.”

Lucifer stepped into the parlor, dusting off his coat with a grim expression. “He’s the guy who sent me to Hell, well, Lilith and I came as a package deal with that banishment. And… one other person. Or a bunch." He moved in front of Lute, pulled up a chair, and sat down on it backwards, leaning his arms against the backrest. His eyes carried a deep-seated sadness, with a glint of gratitude behind them as he reminisced about that fateful day. The king of Hell straightened up. “I think you all should know the truth behind the creation of the Exorcists."

“What truth? They’re just a bunch of sinner-slaughtering nutjobs who tear off their lieutenant’s wings after violating her,” Lute scoffed. "Yeah, I know, I was the former. The pot calling the kettle black. But Adam founded them to combat the alleged uprising in Hell centuries ago.”

“Don’t forget the wings part,” Vaggie shot back with a smirk and a ruffle of her wings, prompting a laugh from Lute.

"Touché, asshole.”

“Not quite. They weren’t created solely for killing demons.” Lucifer shook his head with a sly chuckle, then continued, "Alright, story time.”

Everyone present gathered closely to listen to the tale of how and why the Exorcists were truly founded.

“You see, before my fall, Michael and I were close friends. Like brothers. When it came to creation, he valued it with his very essence even more so, he valued mortal souls above himself. He proudly defended them from danger.”

Lucifer manifests a silhouette of himself alongside a giant of a man with golden wings in front of a starscape, both fist-bumping before a supernova.

“When the Garden of Eden was first created, I oversaw the ‘Human Project’: Adam and Lilith. They started out well enough. Temptation, aka, yours truly had to fuck it up by falling in love.”

The image shifted to Adam attempting to flirt with Lilith, who initially seemed to reciprocate his advances, but her blank expression suggested she had no will of her own compared to the First Man.

“According to The Elders, free will was a mistake. A mistake I created and was told to imprison within the most inconspicuous of items to forever be lost. But only after they granted a portion of it to Adam and Lilith as a test run, minus the moral gray areas of good and evil. To him, it was all black and white so he knew no sin. Lilith was given the same modicum of free will, but I felt it wasn’t enough.”

Lucifer held an apple, tossing it into the illusion, where it landed squarely in Lilith’s hands, and she then took a bite.

“I’m sure you all know how that went. At first, I was on the chopping block, but Michael stepped in to defend me, saying I just didn’t hide it well enough. He would ensure I did better next time while Heaven worked on creating Eve to make up for my blunder. Still, I did come out of it with a hot wife whose singing voice could enrapture the stars themselves.”

Earth swirled into view, zooming in on a play-by-play image with shadows: a hut, a man, a woman.

“This was where I really messed up. After Lilith and I made it official, Heaven decided to create a woman for Adam with zero free will of her own. I hid free will well, but after seeing how Eve monotonously went about their tasks for a few months, I had enough. Why should humankind be slaves to higher powers or that prick like pawns? If it worked out well for Lilith, surely it would have worked for Eve and subsequently her offspring.”

A pregnant Eve secretly partook of the apple left on her table while Adam was out hunting. Time passed, each year marked by the crunching of an apple until Cain and Abel entered the picture. As they grew, it became increasingly clear how they deviated from the norm. Then came the day when Cain became the First Murderer, bludgeoning his brother in a fit of jealous rage. The weight of this sin overcame the young man, Cain cradled his brother’s corpse while weeping.

“Word got out, and the ‘Human Project’ was too far along to reset. I tried to plead my case, but instead, I waged war on Heaven when they refused to listen.”

The image shifted to Lucifer engaged in combat with other angels before facing off against Michael himself, who wept with forthcoming grief.

“We battled for years, but none of us dealt a fatal blow. We just couldn’t. He was my friend, and he begged me to surrender, offering Lilith and me safe passage into the newly created Hell, along with those who followed me.”

“The Sins...” Lute whispered.

“At the time, The Virtues.” Lucifer nodded. “Uh, where was I? Oh yeah. We were banished from Heaven, from Creation. The Exorcists were then founded by Michael as a compromise with his fellow Archangels and The Elders to allow me to leave. They served as a safety net in case I commanded an assault again, with yearly visits like parole officers. Through them, I got updates on how he was doing, and how Sera was.”

Lucifer laughed heartily, realizing he hadn’t mentioned Sera once.

“Yeah, she was too busy forming the cosmos and kinda came late to the whole ordeal—classic Sera!”

His laughter died down, and his smile faded.

“They never returned one year. Michael went silent. I was left with the worst humankind had to offer, with only Lilith to keep me company. Then eventually, my little Char-Char came to be. You can imagine how pissed I was when the next time I saw the Exorcists they were… killing souls. I eventually figured if Michael never cared about them, why should I? I’m just glad I was proven that sinners are worth saving, by my baby girl, and by that snake. Pff… a snake becoming the first redeemed soul, I still can’t get over how ironic that is.”

How is it that Lute never heard about this? This was some insane history for what she used to be a part of! She slumped back, feeling like her whole belief system had been a lie. The only comfort she knew from this story was that her uniform was at least founded for virtuous reasons by their founder, their real founder. Something didn’t add up, however. “Hold on, you mentioned one other person was sent to Hell, was it Cain?”

Lucifer uncomfortably shifted in his seat. “Ehh… I might have fed Eve one too many apples… it doesn’t matter, she’s happy, trust me.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Lute said, just wanting to be done with this topic. “Where’s Violet?”

“She had to leave after handing you off to us,” Charlie answered, chuckling at the memory of Lute being carried like a surfboard through the streets. “I tried offering her a room here at the hotel but she didn’t stick around long enough…” She pouted, crossing her arms.

“I’m sure she heard,” Vaggie reassured, kissing her girlfriend on the cheek.

Lute looked disappointed she didn’t get to hang around the short sinner for longer, a face that Cherri immediately pounced on with, “Ya got a crush?”

“Fuck you! I just like how she’s a cool person! I’m going to my room!”

Cherri smugly threw back a whiskey shot, her eye following the angel stomping off. “She has a type!” she sing-songed.

"You hang out with Angel, he your type?" Husk joked in Lute's defence.

"Touché, asshole," Cherri parroted Lute's earlier words. "Nah, my type has fangs and eyes all over this tail. When I see him again, I'm gonna 'do a sex', and actually do it missionary with the lights on and our tongues fighting like rabid dingos."

"Romantic," Vaggie grunted.

"Romantic!" Charlie squeed.

Lute poked her head in, grumpily pouting, “Dinner the same time?”

Charlie nodded with a gentle smile.

Chapter Text

Nighttime hung over Heaven, a bright, full moon gracing the sky with its silvery glow. Regardless of the night cycle, it was never waning or waxing. It made for a beautiful sight, especially with the spires of Heaven Central eclipsing it, pure picturesque brilliance. Molly and February ducked and dove between parked cars on the luminescent street, slowly approaching the home of the First Man, Adam.

Molly was purely determined to find out what happened to Lute and uncover any conspiracies about Fuse along the way; no one just vanishes from Heaven, especially not someone who was Adam’s right hand.

February was there mostly to support her best friend. Ride or die.

The phallic mailbox wasn’t hard to spot, especially not with that distinctive golden sheen from the moonlight. The spider approached cautiously, inspecting the contents. Empty. Odd. What was even odder, upon first glance of the house in general, was how untouched it was. She expected some graffiti at the very least, maybe nothing like a large ‘Murderer’ spray painted in apple red, but at least a sticker plastered to the front door with grievances worded professionally. 

Molly looked over her shoulder, signing something. The moth blinked absentmindedly, tilting her head with a raised eyebrow. February shrugged, shaking her head when her friend signed again.

“Check if the window’s unlocked, please…!” Molly finally sighed incredulously.

“Ooh, gotcha…!” February whispered back, arching her legs over the fence towards the side wall of Adam’s home. She checked the window, pulling up slowly. It opened with little give, they had their main entry and exit point. “Should we check the garden first?”

Molly nodded. She wanted to check the safer location first, and she was thankful that February had taken the words right out of her mouth.

Both women slunk around back, closing the window so as not to raise any suspicion. A full miniature recreation of the Garden of Eden greeted them, untouched except for an odd hole in the ground near a bush, and another in front of the apple tree. The spider scratched her head. Adam was never a green thumb kind of man, then again he could have easily paid someone to landscape and maintain it. But with him dead, who was paying to maintain it? That flowerbed looked like it was watered, the soil having a glistening sheen to it. Molly took a moment to at least appreciate the lilys before approaching where February was crouched over.

“Something was in that hole…” February whispered, pointing at a small but clear square indent in the small hole beneath a rose bush. She slowly crawled over to the hole in front of the tree, this one was practically clawed out by someone who clearly wasn’t pleased to find nothing. A few dirt patches by the roots implied this was a group effort and was attempted to be covered up. “Dang. Someone was pissed…!”

“Language,” Molly playfully scolded, leaning in next to February to inspect the marks. The most prominent marks looked like they came from thin but well-strengthened fingers.

As the spider winner was inspecting the dirt closer, her friend leaned back and stared a little before giggling. Molly was in a perfect heel-to-the-ground squat, and the catsuit wasn’t doing any favors for her posterior. “Hehe… il culo…” the absent-minded moth teased.

A sharp smacking noise reverberated into the night..

“Uh?!” Molly gasped, straightening her spine as she gawked at what February just did. Once again, not doing any favours for her rear with her back now arched like Nicki Minaj in a squat. “Really…? Here? Now?” she hissed. 

“Sorry…” February sheepishly pressed her fingertips together with her top pair, the bottom pair guiltily held behind her back. “You… wanna slap mine as payback?”

A short pause was exchanged between them before Molly finally whispered, a little flattered, “Later?”

Like brother, like sister.

The garden was a dead end, no matter where the two searched, there wasn’t anything left behind or to tie back to their main suspect besides the claw marks in the hole by the tree. But those could have been done by anyone. There was no other option but to inspect the house itself before dawn.

“So… can I help you two?” an amused male voice startled the women into freezing in their positions. “Bit late for landscaping.”

Molly looked over her shoulder, relief immediately on her face when it was just Abel, dressed in his night gown and hat with fuzzy white bunny slippers. His slightly crooked halo illuminated his line of sight like a gentle flashlight. The tension instantly returned when she realized the compromising position she was in, looking like a thief. February, though, was giving him a small wave with a wide smile. “Hi Abel!”

“S-Sorry… we were investigating some stuff… we didn’t want to bother you or Sera until after the trial with Lilith.”

“Especially considering you are also going to be part of it  and—.” Abel paused. “Wait, what are you trying to find evidence of? I thought we already had everything. You and Emily had already planned to meet up with Pentious at the court, right?” He looked visibly confused.

“Well, you’re here, so may as well let you know. We’re trying to find out more about Lute’s disappearance.

“Ah…” Abel nodded. His mind had been all over the place with current events, so she had completely slipped his mind. He and Lute never really got along too well, especially with how much of a zealot she was, even for Heaven’s standards. “I haven’t heard anything about her since that stupid siege.” He gestured over to the front door just around the corner. “Come on in, we can talk inside.”

The women stood up, dusting off their hands. Molly gave February a pout while rubbing her rear from that spank, her friend responded with a teasing wink and faux-mock headpat, wings fluttering a little. They followed Abel around the corner to where he was holding the door open like a gentleman.

“Thank you,” they both said in unison. Inside the house was beyond what they were expecting. The front door led into a short entryway connecting directly to the main living room, which may as well look like a music studio with percussive and string instruments of every kind set up. The centrepiece of it was a wall-sized flatscreen with surround speakers.

Abel walked past them, tapping his halo to turn off the luminosity and took a seat on his father’s old armchair, which looked too big for him. He gently gestured to the couch across a coffee table with a family picture resting on it. “Please, have a seat, ladies.”

They did so without question, February picking up the family portrait to admire it. “Ooh, there’s you, Adam, Eve, and… is Cain still a sore subject?”

Molly gave her friend a subtle side-eye glare.

Abel guffawed softly, shaking his head while waving dismissively. “No, no, I don’t hate him. He’s my brother after all. I was bitter for a while, but centuries take the edge off.” He pointed to the fourth person, who looked to be a woman the same age, with her arms crossed, glaring daggers over at Eve and Cain. Her hair was the same color as Adam’s, though longer and wilder, the bangs completely covering her upper face. “That’s my sister, Aclima. After Dad took up the job of leading the Exterminators, she kind of just vanished. I hope she’s doing alright.” He stared whistfully at the picture, leaning back in his chair. “Anywho, back on topic… Lute, right?”

Molly cleared her throat, “I have reason to believe Fuse is why she’s gone. The Exorcists went rogue before your recall of their equipment, and I think they’re still active.”

“That’s… a pretty hefty accusation. Well, accusations, plural, if you’re implying the rest of them were involved.”

With a checkmate on her person, the spider held up a finger and blushed slightly. “Excuse me a moment. You— You mind uh…” She twirled her held finger around.

He got the message, looking away. February, however, didn’t.

Molly unzipped the catsuit down to her chest, reaching in to pull her phone out between her cleavage, zipping it back up. “Sorry about that, here.” She placed her phone down on the table, already open to several audio files. “Fuse and one of her cronies named Cleet came to my restaurant and were talking about something. I needed proof, so… I had to buy from Security Steve’s. Cost me a month’s worth of tips for microphones this small and clear, but it was so worth it.”

She tapped the play button.

As the tape recording played back, Abel’s face grew more and more concerned, his brow furrowed in deep contemplation, a rare frown on his lips.

‘So, what ‘bout the spider?’ Cleet’s voice fizzled. ‘Figure she knows too much?’

‘No, she’s clear. I do wanna fuck with her a bit with that sugar cube trick, though,” Fuse’s voice responded, both women sharing a laugh. ‘That airheaded Argentinian moth was too thick to understand the rules.’

“Cagna!” Molly grumbled, she already reviewed the tapes beforehand but that entry always pissed her off, insulting her bestie like that. February gently leaned against her reassuringly with an arm around her shoulder.

‘So, back to the barracks?’ Cleet asked.

Fuse replied, ‘Not yet, we need to make a quick stop at Gabriel Express for my package, then the boss’s home. There’s something there I need to pick up there.’

‘Aight…’ A momentary silence. ‘Damn, this pizza’s really good.’

‘Eh, I should have asked for stuffed crusts, but yeah, it’s good.’

At least they had taste…

The tape recording ended.

“First thing tomorrow, I’m heading to Gabriel Express and getting a quick word in with the clerk. You ladies keep that recording and whatever else you have saved as safe as possible. If Fuse ever shows up around you, keep close to crowds or public areas, got it?” Abel protectively commanded, with an unusual amount of conviction in his voice. “She’s got worse vibes than a piece of corn stuck between molars…”

“You met her before?” Molly asked.

Abel nodded. “She had a weird obsession with father’s missions, in fact the whole bi-monthly thing was her idea before his meeting with Miss Morningstar.  Now that I think about it, every single time she was around him, he always seemed more bloodthirsty for the day and the day after. Usually he’s… well, not polite, but chill.”

“Yeah, every time he and Lute visited my restaurant he would always flaunt himself as the ‘Progenitor with Deeze Nuts’ or something. Then the week after, he was complimenting me and greeting the other customers. I always chalked it up to him celebrating his creation day or something and in a very partying mood.”

“Abey…?” a feminine voice squeaked from the staircase just outside,  “Is everything alright?”

Molly and February shared a knowing look with Abel. Like his father, he was a ladies' man.

Abel blushed and chuckled, calling out to the voice. “I’m fine, Ness, I’ll be with you and Monica in a minute! Just a bit of business!”

“Okayyy!” the voice drawled suggestively before the bedroom door clicked shut from upstairs.

“Abel, you stallone,” February teased. “Two ladies in your bed? How greedy!”

“Hey, how can I say no to fellow music enthusiasts?” Abel retorted with a chipper grin. “Seriously, though, Ness can really play a sick guitar solo with Monica on drums!”

The full-length mirror image stared back at Lute, in full uniform minus the mask. It felt empty without her sword arm, wings or halo, but it did look good. The longer she stared, the more she realized Husk may have had a point of it hitting too close to home for demons. Though she had to admit Niffty did amazing stitchwork in fixing it up, it almost made her feel guilty about what she planned to do next with it.

She tugged off the uniform, now remaining in her underwear to put it away. Her reflection didn’t move.

“So, you put on your uniform, and don’t even kill anyone before getting ready for bed, pathetic,” the reflection taunted.

“Yup.”

The fake Lute waggled her head mockingly. “‘Yup. ’ You should listen to yourself.”

“Already am, and I’m hating it.”

Lute’s hallucinations have gotten manageable with the right breathing exercises and medication, they’ve downgraded from mind-shattering to a piercing drilling in her cranium. Baby steps.

“You think Violet actually likes you? Imagine when she finds out you probably killed a bunch of her friends!”

Okay… that pinched a nerve…

“I can hear your thoughts, stupid.”

“Right…” Lute sighed as her doppelganger stepped out of the mirror, sitting on the bed watching her original try to wipe the black lipstick off her lips. “Ugh… when they say smudgeproof, they really mean it.”

“You never put any on since a week ago.” The angel froze, eyes widening. Her reflection burst out laughing. “Just fuckin’ with ya! You’re not a filthy demon, yet. You can still redeem yourself, y’know. Niffty wants a ‘love’ confession, you just need the right tools to ask her out. What I'm trying to say is kill her.”

Lute set herself a mental reminder to request that doctor from the Sloth Ring for some better meds. “Not happening, and I don’t have to prove anything about Violet. She’s my friend, and that’s that.”

“Until she finds out.”

With that the doppelganger faded with a sinister cackle that echoed in Lute’s mind like a steel ball ringing between bumpers on a pinball table. Having had enough, she gave up trying to wipe her lipstick off and threw herself onto the mattress, cocooning herself in the covers to block out the rest of the world for tonight. Not comfy enough. She reached out to the idle remote on her bedside table and turned the TV on to the ‘Comfort Noises Zone’. Tonight's episode was beachside paradise with a hint of luau guitar.

Ok, that’s a good one…

“BitchchokedbyLilithonabeachsayswhat?”

“What—?”

FUCK.

Cursing at herself for getting essentially pranked by her own psyche and ruining the sound of beaches for herself, Lute pulled out her final trump card for a good night’s rest. She grabbed her phone and grumpily opened a pre-installed game. Maybe an hour of Angry Imps will bore her enough to sleep. It was that or call Violet, but no doubt Violet didn’t need someone bothering her at this unholy hour—

As if on cue, she had accidentally tapped the mobile version of the streaming site Twink, being met with a plethora of sinners and hellborn playing video games live, or as the most popular page displayed, outright sex acts too vivid for words. Lute frowned, about to close it, but seeing a preview thumbnail gave her pause when she spotted a familiar pink mohawk.

It couldn’t be, could it?

The stream started, and sure enough, it was Violet, in baggy black pajamas with red hearts over the chest, playing a first-person shooter. That cockney accent cheering with each streak a balm for the soul. She was dominating them. Her character slid forward, doming a few soldiers in a straight line with a sniper rifle.

“DUDE SHE’S FUCKING HACKING!” one poor quality mic blared.

"Suck my Thundercrash, tosser!" Violet taunted, her character barreling like an unstoppable force into a group with an electric explosion, picking off the straggler with a well-aimed hipfire of a handgun that reloaded with a flourishing spin.

“Hello, parasocial comfort…” Lute joked to herself, ignoring the stream of horny and/or sexist comments flooding the chat to focus entirely on her friend kicking ass. She was tempted to make an account and comment, but she would probably get drowned out by the never-ending spew of bullshit. Maybe a text tomorrow will suffice.

Content with this, she closed her eyes and just listened. The noises of gunfire, amusing voice chat banter and most importantly that accent a lullaby to drown out her own condescending inner voices.

Lucifer straightened his bowtie, resting his hands on his hips after creating yet another masterpiece of a rubber ducky. This one resembled a… he wasn’t really sure. He was used to making billions of these little things all the designs soon started feeling samey. Perhaps he was overcomplicating things?

“Hmm…” he hemmed and hawed, picking up his little squeaky creation and gave it a squeeze. “That’s it!”

The duck began glowing, then transformed into a simpler design, a unicorn, and a duck. A uniducky. Lucifer gave it a squeeze, and it brayed like a horse with a mixture of a high-pitched quack. Perfect!

“Hehehehe, uniducky, that’s fucking perfect! Right?” he tried asking anyone in earshot, his shelves upon shelves of space-defying rubber oddities met him with silence. “...I need a better hobby…”

His phone began ringing from an unknown caller. Probably one of those scam calls. Oh well, worth a distraction to waste their time by stringing them along before spooking them. He answered with a, “You’ve reached the fallen star!”

“Fallen star? You’re still quite a celebrity, my dear Luci.”

Lucifer’s eyes widened, pupils shrinking to pinpricks as a cold sweat broke and his already rosy cheeks blushed heavily hearing that familiar voice.

“...Lilith?” he stammered.

“Who were you expecting, Sera, mon cheri?” she giggled.

His breath caught in his throat hearing that voice, butterflies in his stomach. Ohhh… and when she referred to him in fluent French… She was such a master of many romantic languages.  It was like meeting her for the first time all over again. He didn’t know what to say. “Sooo… how’ve you been?” He began knocking his head with his hand for saying that.

Stupid, stupid, stupid!

“Not too bad, I was given permission to call you and catch up on current events. As well as catch you up to speed with the uproar still going on in Heaven.”

Lucifer chuckled, “A snake made it out of Hell.”

“...How could you possibly know?” Lilith gasped, “I had a whole song ready and everything… how mean…”

“Sorry! One of Adam’s girls got kicked out and, shit’s been weird here too.”

A brief silence came from the Queen, as if she were narrowing down names. “Lute?”

“Eyyyup.”

“How?”

“Oh-hohoh… that’s—that’s a doozy… so you see…”

Lucifer began explaining all events regarding Lute’s disappearance, from her retreating with her wings tucked after losing her arm and from what Lute had told everyone. The grizzly rape and scorching of her wings, mental hallucinations with self-harm and all. Even how she’s currently made friends with a sinner and has mellowed out over the month and a half she has been staying at Charlie’s hotel. 

Lilith listened, silently, unjudging. If anything, she was more surprised how quickly Lute had improved and adjusted for an angel of her position.

“And that’s basically the long and short of it, shit’s weird and… I miiiiihihihiiiis yoooou!” he wailed, conjuring a rubber ducky holding a napkin to which he blew into.

“Shh, my love, we won’t be apart long…” Lilith whispered softly. “I could send you some pictures, if that would help.” Her whisper grew a little more sultry. “Naughty pictures,” she cooed. “Can you say ‘please’, my golden swan?”

The king’s pale complexion flushed crimson like a rising thermometer, steam literally billowing out his top hat. He weakly sputtered, “Y…Yes, my dark queen… m-may I have pictures, p-please?”

“NOT ON MY PHONE YOU’RE NOT!” Sera’s voice roared on the other side, with a brief scuffle over the device. Finally, Sera spoke to Lucifer. “What your wife should be telling you is we’re giving you a temporary pass to Heaven to attend her trial tomorrow.”

Lucifer’s face briefly soured at being interrupted from the closest thing to sex he’s had with his wife since she vanished, but he remained professional. “Uhm… trial?”

“Your wife’s trial to determine if she is safe enough to return to Hell.”

“Pff… The Elders would never approve that shit…” he grumbled, feeling let down already.

“That’s why Saint Michael is acting as judge in their stead.”

“...”

“Lucifer?”

“When can you get me to Heaven?”

Almost on command, a portal directly to Heaven manifested as an ominous golden circle with no view to the other side. A few rubber ducks from the piles nearby were pouring through like sand in a sieve. Before Lucifer could question if this was some kind of trick, Sera’s groan of annoyance when she most likely stepped on a few over the phone was all the confirmation he needed. This groan was followed further by Lilith cackling with glee.

“Give me a moment!” Lucifer hung up and quickly began texting his daughter.

‘Gotta quickly attend a trial in Heaven, love you, don’t let Alastor tell you he loves you more! Be back soon with mom!’

Perfect.

With all the vigor and trepidation of a college teen at a frat party, Lucifer leapt through to the other side.

Chapter Text

Winners in Heaven were gathered around the large city crossing, gasping in awe at a rare sight. A towering figure, taller than even Sera walked with thudding footsteps. Purpose in its stride, paying the crowd no mind.

The figure was clad in armor from head to toe, glittering in silver with a black trim. The greaves ended at the knees with miniature black shields for kneecaps, leading into cuisses with an inner thigh of blue leather. This was broken up at the waist with a belt of silver side-skirts and a front and back-skirt. The sun reflected off the figure’s cuirass, a metal banderole across the sternum with ‘Revelation 12 :7–12 ’ in blue writing displayed proudly upon it.

Sizable pauldrons shuddered with each step, a gentle ball of blue flames nestled in a small circular indent on each. Beneath them, the armor for the arms ended with gauntlets, blue leather for the palms and fingers beneath the small plates lining each one. A red chlamys was attached to the left shoulder, lightly billowing against non-existent wind behind them.

A resplendent great helm rested upon the figure’s head, the oculacrum a simple straight line across the eyes, broken up in the middle by a black X front and center. A pair of black horns attached to the sides of the helmet formed a perfect circle meeting at the tips above the head like a faux halo, a third ball of blue flame holding its position in the empty space. The true halo of this imposing holy being was simple, encircling the blue flame as a flat golden disk.

The figure felt a bump against their leg. They paused their stride to look down and saw a little girl staring up, terrified, an empty ice cream cone in her hand, the remains of her savory frozen treat splattered against the figure’s knee.

The crowd’s curious murmuring was silenced instantly, a quiet terror bubbling to the surface.

A deep, calm voice finally rumbled out, gentle like a breeze. “Hello.”

He looked down at his knee, then back at the little girl.

“My armor seems to have stolen your treat. Sorry,” he stated matter-of-factly, though his apology had no sign of being condescending. He was as genuine as one could sound.

The little girl gulped as Michael raised his hand, a blue glow roaring from his palm. The crowd was too scared to act, too frightened to even run.

Once the light faded, the little girl opened her eyes, seeing the Archangel kneeling down holding a freshly conjured scoop in a perfect cone. Nervously she reached out and took it, staring into the occulacrum to see gentle eyes peering back, shifting between gold, amber and brown like a swirling sea. In that very moment, she giggled, feeling safer than she ever felt before. “You have pretty eyes, mister.”

Michael stood to his full height, smiling under his helmet, then continued his journey to the Court.

By his side, two lamb-like cherubs approached, one holding a datapad and the other gently ushering the crowd out of the way. “Sire?” one addressed Michael, her voice mature. “Are you sure it is a good idea to gallivant through Heaven Central? The trial isn’t until past noon.”

“To remind myself,” Michael answered cryptically. Pausing at a crosswalk between a group of commuting winners, trying not to look out of place. A few were already taking pictures and selfies with pure excitement on their faces. “Did the High Seraphim acquire Lucifer as per my instructions?”

“Without issue,” the second cherub replied in a startlingly deep voice for those not accustomed, perching on the push-button wait signal box. “According to the High Seraphim, Lucifer and his wife” —he performed air quotes with his hooves— “‘celebrated’ their reunion. She has charged your account for a new king-sized bed for the idea. One of her guest room beds appeared to have been scorched beyond recognition with a fallen-angel-shaped indent.”

Michael belted out a deep laugh, continuing his stride.

“Will the other Archangels be attending?” he asked suddenly, the shift in his tone was jarring.

“Lord Gabriel and Raphiel are busy with other matters. Lord Uriel, however, will be attending as prosecutor.”

Nodding, the First Warrior of Heaven breathed a sigh of relief. Uriel was a nitpicking taskmaster, but he valued truth above all else with his uncanny ability to detect lies in his cross-examinations.

“I thought I was dealing with two adults older than humanity, but all I see are a pair of horny teenagers making a mess…” Sera sighed, rubbing her temples. “Did you two… get any sleep at all?”

Standing in front of her were Lucifer and Lilith, both sheepishly draped in what remained of Sera’s guest room bed’s covers. Lilith’s hair was disheveled, and Lucifer’s face was covered in black lipstick kiss marks and a few bite marks on his shoulders. The bed behind them was a faint memory of its original white and gold splendor. Good Lord… the headrest has burning handprints on it…

“I think it was after the… what was the number, my golden swan?” Lilith asked Lucifer with a smirk.

“After the one-thousandth and forty-fourth orgasm?” he chuckled.

“That’s it, you two, take a shower and get dressed! Breakfast is in an hour, and we leave before noon!” She held up her hand, tutting. “Ah ah! Separately!” Sera sternly pointed to Lilith first, directing her still-pointed finger down the hall. “You shower first while I have a quick chat with him.”

“Oh… fine… you used to be fun,” Lilith humphed, kissing her husband’s cheek before strutting off to the showers.

Now alone, standing in the opulent hallway of Sera’s home, Lucifer cleared his throat to break the silence. “So… Michael, huh? Where’s he been?”

Sera’s stern demeanor softened, thinking back to a certain day. “The outskirts of Heaven… a self-imposed banishment… he lost faith…”

“Him? No offense, but he’s the last guy to lose faith.”

“...The Flood.” Her shoulders slumped. Once on Earth, sin, according to The Elders, ran rampant. Their solution was a storm that encompassed the planet, a way to wipe the slate clean while preserving those they deemed worthy to survive. Two of every land-dwelling and freshwater animal, one man and his family. They had Noah build that ship, knowing full well he would never see any friends or distant family ever again. Their souls washed away into oblivion, every man, woman, and child never made it through to either afterlife as if erased. Heaven and Hell alike shook at the news, it was an event summarized with one word.

Genocide.

Lucifer paused, his eyes widening at the mention of that event. He knew of this event, he expected a mass of new sinners to fall through into the pentagram. No… the Pride Ring was met with these odd eyes coating every visible surface for centuries before vanishing slowly. Those eyes were still an enigma. He slowly nodded, “Yeah… that’ll do it. For what it’s worth, I don’t blame you, I know you would never stand for it.”

“Doesn’t change the fact I allowed Adam to continue it through the Exterminations. I deserve to be fallen for my complacency and compliancy to it,” Sera whimpered, resting against the wall with her hands to her face. “I should have listened to your daughter…!”

She felt a reassuring hand on her shoulder, the fallen angel having to reach up to do so. “We all fuck up. You at least have the guts to say you did.”

"I... appreciate it, Lucifer. As crass as you made it sound," Sera said, wiping a few forming beads of sparkling tears.

A short explosion shook the building, Lucifer’s wings flaring in panic. “Holy shit are we under attack?!”

“That would be our resident inventor,” Sera smiled softly as black smoke billowed out of a door down the hall. Sir Pentious coughed and spluttered while slithering out the open doorway, his white scales blackened with soot and a hilarious outline of goggles being left on his and his hat’s eyes. “I believe you may know him well.”

Lucifer silently pointed to Sir Pentious, gawking, then looked back and forth as if seeking confirmation that this was the redeemed soul, the first of many successes he hoped for Charlie. The serpent waved down the hall with a meek hissing, “Hello!”

Just as Lilith was returning from her quick shower, fully clothed with her heels clicking against the floor, a group ran past her to get towards Sera. “High Seraphim!” Abel wheezed, landing to the floor with a crash as his wings gave out, Molly and February skidded to a half, nearly falling over him. The spider helped him up as he was waving his arms frantically.

“Easy, easy… deep breaths…” Sera leaned down, concerned as to what had Abel in such a panic. “What’s the matter? This is highly unlike you.”

“Dangit… I cramped my wing,” he panted, the offending limb twitching as he tried furling it back against himself. “Michael’s here! Early!”

“Does it mean we take our breakfast to go?” Lucifer questioned, his toga of bed covers slipping off. “...Oops.”

February nudged Molly, making a size gesture with her hands and a sly whistle. Lilith looked rather proud.

“LUCIFER!” Sera screamed.

Smack, smack, smacksmacksmack.

Back in Hell, Exorcist-mania was still in full swing, every demon who entered a clothing shop left in swathes of black and white. Lute was slumped over a couch, her eyes baggy and blank from just looking out her bedroom window earlier to find a group wearing that slutty perversion of her uniform. “Fucking sinners…” she grumbled.

“Woah now… no need to relapse,” Charlie comforted, holding out a mug of tea. “It’s just a fashion trend, it’ll pass. Trust me, when I first tried advertising this hotel I kept seeing parodies of my suit for a week after.”

“You bought one, though,” Angel Dust deadpanned with a smirk while reading a book, lying on the carpet, while his feet playfully kicked at the air. “Did Vags get off on seeing you in it, dollface?”

“Not helping…” Charlie scowled, her face softening when looking back to the angel. “Careful, it’s—”

Lute took the mug and chugged down the still scalding liquid, her burns healing within seconds as she didn’t even flinch.

“—...Hot… huh…” She shook it off. “Maybe a session in the gym to take out all that pent-up rage? Video game? Board game?” Charlie’s smile looked strained, her eyes darting over to Angel a few times as if silently begging him to toss in some ideas.

“We have video games, since when? And dont’cha tell me it’s a fuckin’ pong cabinet gatherin’ cobwebs in your old man’s basement probably given a shotgun salute under a pile of rubber.” He pointed accusingly after snapping his book shut.

“N-No!” the princess stammered, clearly lying while gingerly taking the mug from Lute. “...Yes…”

“You two aren’t helping,” Lute finally groaned, grabbing a throw pillow to bury her face into. “Mmph… hey Angel… did that prick of a boss make you wear the stuff for your session?”

Angel nodded. Last night he had the thing practically tossed at him. Most uncomfortable six hours of his afterlife, and he had worn the tightest latex known to demonkind. It was the principle of the matter, he had friends and loyal customers who died at the hands of Exorcists, to be seen by the masses wearing them felt all kinds of wrong. Seeing them wear it was all kinds of wrong. While his opinion of why the sluttified uniform was a horrible idea differed from Lute’s, they both reached the same consensus; this shit was just insensitive. “Yup, ‘fraid I can’t burn it or pawn it off. Val would kill me.”

“Hrm… understandable…” Lute muttered, understanding his dillema. “Just don’t wear it around here, or I’ll… I dunno… I’m too frustrated to come up with a creative punishment.”

“Whaddya gonna do? Crease my Jordans?” Angel’s sharp grin widened with amusement. “Key my Lamborfeeties?” He wiggled his boots. “Scuff my Chevrolegs?”

Charlie and Lute shared a collective cringe at that.

Alastor sauntered in, carrying a doggy bag with that distinctive burnt tree and honey aroma, everyone in scent-assault radius covered their noses, visible or otherwise. “I must say, this fashion trend is a peculiar change of pace,” he chuckled. He had just returned from Cannibal Town, Niffty skittering behind him like a loyal pet. “Have this sent to my room, my dear!” The radio demon handed off his foul-smelling lunch to the maniacally giggling gremlin.

Niffty’s eye locked with Lute’s, giving a quick wave. “Hello! Still not Lebanese!”

“Lesbian,” Charlie corrected, then sternly turned on Alastor. “And Alastor, I thought we agreed you would bring your…snacks? Snacks. From Cannibal Town, through the employee entrance.”

“Whoopsy!” Alastor sniggered, patting Niffty’s head as her cue to scamper off. “Figured no one was around besides Husker to enjoy this aromatic delight.”

“Fuck you too!” Husk grumbled loudly from the bar just outside the parlor.

“Anywho, I can’t help but notice a distinct lack of ‘daddy dearest’!” Alastor mimed looking for someone, his body swiveling as he feigned looking for Lucifer with his hand resting upon his brow. “A welcome void of presence, I say!” He tapped his cane on the ground, leaning against it while giving a low-five to his shadow.

Charlie broke out into a wide, cheerful grin. “Oh! He’s in Heaven right now attending Mom’s trial! I also texted him to ask about Lute. I hope he got the text, but the signal went a little iffy when he left.”

That seemed to annoy Alastor a little, his permanent grin tightening slightly. Not only will he still have to deal with Lucifer down the line, but if all goes well, Mrs. Morningstar will not be far behind. “Oh… goody…” he retorted with a fizzle, then whirled to face Lute, his smile waxing to its usual golden crescent. “And you, my pale-complexioned madame, I hear tell you and this Violet have gained a rapport. Quite an odd pairing. Especially with her… hmm… past?” he chuckled coyly.

“Past? Hey, wait!” Before Lute questions his meaning, the radio demon had already begun walking off to the parlor door.

“All in due time, enjoy your company for now.” Alastor waggled his fingers, shadow-shifting out the barely cracked door.

“...Cryptic asshole…”

Angel nodded, “Ain’t that the truth, bob cut.”
 
“How about we do a creative writing workshop? Best written gets cotton candy cake!” Charlie suggested to brighten the mood.

How could Lute say no to free cake? “Fuck it, I’m in.”

“Heyyy, me too!” the spider sat up.

“Without your phones…” Charlie sighed, looking directly at Angel Dust. “Not naming names, but someone cheated last time with A.I…”

“B-B…N-No!” Angel stammered, his barely-contained lies unravelling with forced offense. “R-Ridiculous, I dunno what you’re on about, toots!”

“Angel… there’s only so many times you can use the word ‘pang’ in a short series of paragraphs…”

Angel felt a pang of annoyance at being called out, Lute stuck her tongue out to rub it in further. "Nyah-nyah."

Chapter Text

Earth, 16th century, Rome

A young girl sprinted through the winding streets of Rome, clutching a piece of bread to her chest. Her clothes were torn and dishevelled, barely clinging to her emaciated frame. “Halt! On the authority of the Vigiles Urbani, you are under arrest!” a deep voice roared out through the alleys.

Heavy footsteps were closing in hard on the young girl from all angles. She panted heavily, trying to look for any way to escape until she saw a hole in the wall no larger than her head. In pure desperation, she bit down on her snatched snack and practically dove into the hole, wiggling through. She sadly didn’t make it far before having her ankles gripped and roughly yanked. The soldier acting cop sighed, disappointed when he got a clear look at the perpetrator being held upside down.

“You again?” he groaned. “How’d you even escape the pillory this time, Lucia?”

Lucia pouted, shoving the bread further down her mouth before crossing her arms defiantly, as if daring him to fish it out, followed by sticking her middle finger towards the gathering group of officers packing into the tight alley. A bit too many in fact.

All this over a stolen piece of bread. Not loaf. Not even a sandwich. A single. Fucking. Piece.

But that is the brutal reality of 16th-century Rome, where Catholic law was the norm. Where so much as suspicion of heresy earned one a gruesome death via the plethora of ‘interrogation’ instruments, or in young Lucia’s case with her being a child verging on teenhood, a public shaming in the pillory. Though of course that did not stop the more bold passerby from directly approaching and kneeing her in the gut. She had lost count of how often she was bound to that damnable wooden implement, for trying to survive.

“That’s it! Clearly you won’t repent the usual way…” he growled, hoisting her under his arm like a rolled up carpet while she feebly struggled.

“We going to chop her hands off, sir?” one officer questioned.

“Crucify her?” another offered almost too excitedly.

“No… I have a more suitable punishment in mind for this brat. Company dismissed.”

Lucia greedily gulped down the bread in her mouth, trying not to choke on the stale mush while going limp. Her skin was a snowy alabaster and covered in dirt marks, bruises, and small cuts. The latter of which was fresh from her attempted dive into a random hole in the wall from pure survival desperation. Her hair, however, made her an oddity in the city, white as snow, pale as ash. In this superstitious age, Lucia’s hair marked her a burden of sin. The pale complexion in such a Mediterranean climate also did not help, giving her the stigma of an unholy creature of the night.

“I’m not sorry for doing what I did, Calvus…” Lucia grumbled once she and the officer holding her were alone. 

Calvus sighed, lifting her to eye level by her armpits. “Why did you do it this time? I can’t keep saving you like this…”

“I had the money, it’s not my fault the asshole took it then denied I paid anything.” She was cold and direct, baring her teeth like an angry cat. “Being forced to walk with a cane for the rest of his life in his 20s from now on is his own fault…”

The officer nodded slightly, understanding her frustration. But the law was the law, even if it was biased against those like the girl. His arms trembled, trying not to drop the girl. Calvus had forgotten she was growing, and it was only a matter of time before she outgrew his protection. “Lucia… I hope you will forgive me for what I must do, but this is for your own good…”

“Uh-huh… another night in the pillory, yup. Really teaching me a lesson.”

“Not this time. Once you become of age you would be executed without a doubt on your next minor offense for suspected heresy just to get rid of you, and I know you can do more with the hand you’ve been dealt. I’m taking you to the outskirts, and handing you off to the Abbey. You will be a ward of the Catholic Church henceforth. Under Abbess Agatha.”

Lucia’s eyes widened, and began struggling. “No! I won’t!” she whined, “Let go of me!” Calvus draped her over his shoulder as she beat on his back with feeble hands. “Let go of me!” she continued to cry out, terrified of the prospect of being a child like herself in close proximity to those of zealous faith, her ‘curse’ was already a target of ridicule. It felt like a death sentence.

He ignored her pleas with a heavy heart, this was for her safety, for her own good.

“So you were terrified of a free bed and breakfast?” Angel questioned, slipping a lollipop into his mouth. It was ‘Share your Story’ time, and being the newbie Lute was the one sharing her story before her afterlife first. She didn’t want to, but it was that or surrender her winnings from creative writing an hour prior. And like Hell was she gonna miss out on some of that sweet, sweet sugary goodness.

Lute shook her head. “You were raised a modern Catholic. Things back then required more brutal payment.”

“Don’t that mean you were Italian because of the whole Rome thing?” Cherri asked. “Ooh! Can ya speak Italian?!”

“Not a lick of it, I spoke Latin, though.” She pinched her fingers sheepishly as if grasping a grape. “Some Greek too.”

Angel seemed disappointed, but was glad to have another Italian under the roof, even if ancient.

“Lucia is such a pretty name… why’d you change it?” Charlie pouted, emotionally invested in this story.

“Yeah, I’m with Charlie on this one,” Vaggie commented. “Lucia rolls off the tongue nicer. Better than ‘Loop’.”

“Well too fucking bad, my name is Lute, my cover name is Loop, and that’s final. Can I continue?”

“I think we’re glossing over the fact your skin was always like this.” Husk finished screwing his flask shut after taking a swig. “I always thought you got bleached by holy light some shit. So you’re basically just an albino?”

“You know, I never really thought of that…” Lute hemmed and hawed, rubbing at her stump. “Can I  continue, please?”

Lucia was bound and gagged within a wooden horse-drawn wagon. Under the dead of night she was snuck out of the city into the outskirts of Rome by Calvus. She jostled, squirmed, tried screaming in protest. It was no use, she was at the mercy of whatever happened next. Though the hay was a nice change of scenery compared to the ugly carcasses of nobility gawking at her hair in the pillory, even if it was itchier. She tried distracting herself through the ride, counting cricket chirps, listening to Calvus’ stories when he felt like giving some levity to the tedious trek.

A part of the girl wished they were accosted by bandits, maybe they would let her join them if they didn’t violate her. To stick it to the cunts in the city for denying her common human empathy or decency ever since she was orphaned. But this one officer who stuck his neck out for her, she hated his profession, but she couldn’t bring herself to hate him. Over the years, they both had built an odd uncle-niece dynamic. She causes trouble, he catches her. Rinse and repeat. That all would be ending tonight, where Lucia would be forced to become a ward to a monastery of nuns…

She shuffled a little, trying to sit up against the bundle of hay. With a kick she managed to poke her head out, being met with the slowly retreating gates of the city walls in the distance. “Keep your head down,” Calvus said, not even looking over his shoulder. “We still have a few roads left before we arrive. Use the time to get some rest.”

Lucia defiantly swiveled to face his back, scowling, she tried to insult him through the gag. “Grrrph!”

Calvus held up a bag, dangling it like a collection of keys. “Dried meat slices, behave yourself, that bag’s yours. Deal?”

“Grrr…”

“Suit yourself.” Deliberately, the officer placed the bag next to himself and with one hand opened the bag to pull out a piece of the dried meat ration to wordlessly prove he wasn’t lying about the contents. The wind carried the scent right to Lucia’s exposed nose. Her stomach rumbled. “Hm? Was that a wolf?” he teased.
Lucia blushed, tucking herself beneath the pile. “Mmh…” she grumbled compliantly. This was rewarded with her gag being pulled down and the piece of meat fed directly to her mouth. “...Thanks…” She savoured the salty taste, grinding the tough, leathery meat between her molars.

“You needn’t worry, Lucia… Sister Agatha is a woman I’d stake my credibility on. She is a woman of faith and kindness.”

“So has every woman of the cloth claimed…” the girl bitterly remarked, gulping. “I just wanted out of that city of cunts…why not just drop me off here and let me fend for myself? I’ve been doing good so far.”

“Not happening. I am a man of faith, and thus a man of my word.”

“You?” Lucia scoffed, “A glorified sentry, a man of God?”

“How else do you think I have connections with this Abbey?” he replied sternly, daring her to continue this line of doubt. “Now pipe down, we’re almost there.”

Lucia strained a bit to look over the edge of the wagon, spying a modestly-sized monastery. A few nuns were walking along the trail with a lantern on a pole to light their way, stopping to wave at Calvus. He pulled the reigns to slow the horse down. “Greetings, Calvus!” the one holding the lantern called out.  

“Greetings, Sister Pinkle—”

“Pinkle? Hold on, as in ancestor of the smuttiest smut writer to ever smutt?” Angel interrupted.

“...I feel like I’m missing context here,” Lute grumbled, annoyed that she lost her train of thought.

“Oh, she’s one of the new arrivals to Hell. Bitch can write up a storm. I think she takes commissions from Val’s studio for scripts. I hear she’s in high demand right now with all this Exor-mani-whatsit.” He rolled his wrist, trying to remember the hype name.

“Hell because horny, got it…”

“I have a fresh one for Sister Agatha,” Calvus said, pointing with his thumb over to Lucia.

The nuns finally got a good look at the bound girl, slightly gasping and murmuring at her…vampiricly pale complexion.

“...Boo,” Lucia sighed, expecting terror or at the very least mild offense at her mere existence. What she did not expect, however, was to be… greeted.

“Oh my! You must be that young troublemaker in the city!” Sister Pinkle giggled. “The ‘cursed child’. Well, we aren’t here to judge, we’re all misfits in our own regard, just proud the way God made us.”

“...Ok, this is creepier than being hated already.”

“Poor dear, she looks starved!” another nun piped up, this one had eyes of differing colors. “We thank you for your service, Calvus.” She bowed her head. “We’ll take her from here.”

Calvus didn’t waste time picking Lucia up by the back of her raggedy top like a kitten, hoisting her with surprising strength right into the arms of the heterochromic nun. “You behave now, child,” he playfully chided, also tossing the bag of dried meats over. “Hya!” He softly pulled the reins on his horse, having it turn the wagon around.

Lucia was too stunned for words, her bound hands holding the bag while the one man she ever came close to respecting in her life left, but not abandoning her. For the first time since the day she was born, she felt tears welling in her eyes. “B-...Bye…” she softly whimpered, trying to wave.

“There, there…” Sister Pinkle whispered, undoing the restraints to allow the small girl to walk and stretch her limbs. “Would you like to hold the lantern, young one? It might cheer you up.” She gently offered the pole, the lantern dangling with a slight jingle, moths fluttering in circles around the oil-fueled source of light.

She nodded, taking hold of the pole and walking off towards the monastery in relative silence. Sister Pinkle murmured a few calming prayers, her hands clasped to her chest.

They walked for a few minutes, stopping at the large wooden door leading to the main church. The heterochromic nun lifted the iron knocker and proceeded to knock with it twice softly, then hard once like a code. The wildlife around them was silenced as if anticipating the moment those doors swung open.

Echoing footfalls made it through just barely. Then, in one swift motion, the doors swung open with a rusty creak. Standing before the group was a nun, easily a few heads taller, her figure gaunt and visible crow's feet in the corners of her sharp eyes. Upon her neck were rosary beads crafted in iron. Her overwhelming presence and stern demeanor had the other nuns bowing their heads in respect. This was, no doubt, Abbess Agatha.

“We have returned, Mother…” Sister Pinkle murmured, gently nudging Lucia forward. “And with a new lost lamb.”

Agatha’s gaze swept over to the girl like a hawk, softening slightly. “So you have,” she stated, leaning down to look Lucia over. “Hmm… I must say, you are a unique one. But that matters little.” She stood straight, stepping aside. “Please, enter.”

Lucia gulped, scooching past the Abbess with her eyes never leaving the gaunt woman like prey sneaking past a lion.

“She sounds scary…” Charlie shuddered.

Lute chuckled. “Actually, she was pretty much a mother figure to me. She was strict, but fair. My first night I refused to sleep in a bed because I didn’t know what it was and was too scared to. So I slept in a pew with a blanket.” She expected Angel to begin laughing, but not even a restrained snort came her way.

“Can’t imagine how much it sucked that you were suspicious of a fuckin’ bed…” Angel sighed. “But hey, you got yourself a pretty cushy gig. For your time’s standards, I mean.”

“Yeah… it was nice…”

“Ominous,” Husk rumbled.

Years began to pass, the young wayward lamb had become one with the flock. She had since grown out of her self-conscious desire to hide her alabaster skin and equally pale hair amongst her sisters. Though of course her garment of the sisterhood did require her hair to be hidden. Under the watchful eye and stern yet gentle hand of Agatha, she had become a woman of faith.

The elderly Mother still stood tall and proud, gliding through the pews to hand each of her sisterhood a special gift donated by the central church in Rome. A Bible, the pages untouched by anyone other than the ones who wrote it. “Let us offer a prayer in thanks for this most generous gift.”

All nuns gathered began opening their Bibles to the right page for the appropriate prayer, followed by Agatha kneeling in front of a grand wooden cross.

The doors swung open slowly, Lucia and Sister Pinkle striding in carrying a wooden box. Before she could open her mouth, she paused, noting the prayer happening. She silently gestured for her and her accomplice to take their place and join them in prayer in a vacant pew space, a new Bible already resting there as if anticipating their arrival.

Sister Pinkle almost let out a gentle squee seeing a new Holy Book, picking it up before cuddling it close. “Oh blessed day…!” she whispered. 

Lucia placed the wooden box to the side for later, picking up her own book, tracing the lovingly crafted leather cross on the front cover. “Blessed indeed,” she gasped. This was quality craftsmanship, and the pages within were all handwritten by quill and candlelight, yet still surprisingly legible. Both women peeked over the shoulder of one of their sisters to see what page they should be on. The sister, noticing, gently lifted her book just enough for the page number to be visible. “Thank you,” Lucia whispered, opening her text to the page and began reading.

The wooden box was a donation collection for the upkeep of the monastery, a decent amount of coinage within. Unfortunatley, with coin comes…

A rumbling crash shook the room, followed by a cut-off scream from one of the sisters outside. A foot kicked the door down, a torrent of men in armor flooding the main area with weapons drawn. “Hand over the box and no one else dies!” a grizzly-looking man growled. He was dressed in a hodgepodge mix of pieces, most likely stolen. The gladius he was waving about looked rusted and still coated in fresh blood.

The nuns scrambled, gathering together as Agatha shielded them, her calm voice giving way to righteous fury. “If it is coin you want, take it! No blood needs to be shed!”

Lucia peeked out from behind Agatha, getting a good look at the bandit with the gall to rob a monastery. His face was unfamilair, yet his eyes looked glazed, as if he was drunk off his ass. The bandit caught her looking at him, he leered with a lecherous grin. “On second thought, give us the money, and that pretty little snowflake…!”

A cold chill ran up Lucia’s spine, Agatha’s hand defensively covered her face. “You may have the money, but she is a woman of the cloth and sworn to chastity, under my guidance and protection!”

That was the wrong answer. A swift backhand sent the Abbess flying to the side. “You bitch! Here I am offering a generous solution and you spit in my face…” He was ready to swing his gladius down. Lucia threw herself over Agatha, getting in the way of the swing, which barely missed.

“No!” she screeched, “I’ll go! Please! Don’t hurt anyone else!”

Lute was silent for a moment, her eyes falling to her knees. “They took me, and killed everyone anyway…” She let out a bitter chuckle. “I basically sold myself to a bandit group, and they burned the place to the ground anyway. Those that survived were sold off as slaves once their holy cloth was torn apart to hide the fact they were nuns. On that same day I found out what a blowjob was.”

Everyone around her gagged, clutching their throats.

“Yeah, it is a gross as you’re probably imagining for the time period.”

“How long were you stuck with that asshole…?” Charlie growled, her horns growing in righteous fury, Vaggie trying to calm her down.

“Long enough to know his patterns, not long enough to lose my virginity,” Lute replied, appreciating the sentiment behind the princess’s anger. “Don’t worry, I got him twice.” She held up two fingers, grinning maliciously.

Cherri seemingly bounced in place while seated cross-legged on the carpet, excited for the revenge portion of the tale.

Lucia trudged along next to this ape in human clothing, carrying a weight of loot upon her back, clamped around her throat. She had been this creature’s unwilling entertainment and errand girl for over a year now, her rage stewing and bubbling beneath the surface. Each time he would return from a raid, his rusted sword was always bloody, never appropriately cleaned, with the stench of death and alcohol following it.

She could still hear the screams, she could still see Agatha…

“Snowflake!” the bandit barked.

Lucia snapped out of her daze, tiredly staring up at him as she placed down the ill-gotten gains nearby. They were camped out at a small chapel on the roadside, the priest’s body not too far from the blasphemous campfire set up within the stone walls.

“More wood!” he demanded.

The pews were already cinders by now, the podium and holy books ashes. “There…isn’t any left…” She felt her neck twist from a powerful slap, and laughter from the group followed. She whimpered, clutching her cheek. “I’ll… look for some…”

She weakly looked around, searching for anything flammable she could carry or drag over. Her chain dragged behind her like a mocking tail, the grinding of iron on the stone floor an unwelcome backdrop to the howls of winter just outside. Lucia entered a back room, hoping to find anything, maybe another living soul to save her— someone like Calvus, or someone like Agatha.

In the flickering shadows of the chapel’s interior though revealed a staircase led further down into a basement. Rather than return empty-handed, she took a deep breath and slowly descended, her eyes slowly adjusting to the dark.

Wooden barrels lined the basement walls, and Lucia’s eyes widened. “Communion wine…” The gears began to turn in her mind. That oaf would drink himself into a stupor with that much wine, and it was enough to get the entire party of scum hammered. A small grin crept up on her face. “I found something!” she called out.

“Then bring it up, bitch!”

“It’s… It’s too heavy! It’s wine!” Lucia replied. Surely enough, a group of men clamoured over to where she was, their leader lumbering in behind. “Perhaps you should drink your fill? It is cold tonight,” she offered.

The bandit smirked, shoving Lucia out of the way to grasp a barrel and hoist it over his shoulders. “Good find, you’re not useless as you look, maybe this time I’ll ‘reward’ ya… really well this time…”

Lucia stifled a gag, shaking her head. “M-Maybe after you’ve had your fill?” She prayed that he would take the bait, prayed he would let his alcoholism override his carnal needs. To her relief, he agreed.

“Fine,” he grumbled, “Drink up, lads!”

The festivities didn’t take long to go into full swing while Lucia acted the guillless barmade, handing off chalice after chalice of the communion wine to these monsters. The fire roared with every empty barrel smashed as a game and tossed in. This was her personal countdown timer to know when they were sloshed out of their minds.

Lucia dodged any advances by strategically spacing out her ‘customers’, making sure to never stick around too long before grabbing the next refill. One by one, they dropped unconscious like overfed swine, the largest of them now swaying, ready to fall. “Come on…” she grunted, handing the final cup over. “Sleep, you fucking sinner… sleep so I can send you to your just judgement…”

The woman’s heartbeat quickened, anticipating every second. The fire had since died out, leaving the dying embers to illuminate Lucia’s glowering face. Finally, the boorish bandit’s eyes shut, his body slumping over in a drunken haze of dreams. This was her moment!

She let blind rage overtake her, grasping the defiling gladius by the handle, she began swinging at the throat of every cretin she could see, sometimes just stabbing at corpses while screaming until her voice gave out. She didn’t care, she screamed until her throat bled for the life she had stolen away from her. By scum, by sinners who defiled the faith she found acceptance in! “DIE! DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE!” Lucia cried out, shoving the sword to the hilt in the large bandit’s throat, dragging it down as he gasped for breath, the light leaving his eyes with the bloodied and beaten woman being the last thing he would see before unavoidable damnation.

Lucia kept plunging that sword until her shoulder begged for mercy, but she did not listen.

Lucia chopped at his gut until her hands were blistered, but she did not stop.

Lucia kicked at his remains until her ankles broke, but she never fell.

Panting heavily, her breath visible as the cold from the howling winds afflicted the chapel with the deathly grip of ice and snow. Lucia should have felt guilt at taking several lives, yet elation and satisfaction was all she could feel.

A short clapping startled her out of her quiet moment of triumph. Standing at the entrance was a man in white and gold robes, a head adorned with horns and a golden, sharp-toothed smile. “Not bad, not bad! Technique could use a little work, but baby, the passion is on point!” He cackled with a fist-pump.

“Who are you?!” Lucia growled, trying to point the blade towards him. “And why… why am I speaking like this?” She clutched her throat, she shouldn’t be speaking, yet she was, and in another tongue besides Latin.

The man stretched, golden wings flaring out as he casually pointed in a finger gun motion. “Oh, yeah, I granted you the ability to speak fluent American, the final form of the one true language, babe. No need to thank me, I know I’m awesome!”

Lucia tilted her head, jaw slackened incredulously. “What…? Who are you?” she asked again.

He smirked, as if waiting to dramatically reveal his name. Conjuring a golden axe instrument, he strummed it, odd notes reverberating through the chapel. It was crass, but Lucia couldn’t deny that it sounded amazing. “The dickmaster, the dude who’s junk gave way to humanity, Adam!”

“...Adam… THE Adam?”

“The one and only!” Adam proudly leaned against his guitar axe and arched an eyebrow. “Look, I’ll cut to the chase. You’re dead, see?” He pointed nonchalantly.

Sure enough, Lucia’s corpse was keeled over, her hands still gripping the gladius buried deep in the corpse of that bastard bandit. Hypothermia claimed her life.

Before she could have an existential panic attack, Adam continued, “Good news is you’re getting a one-way ticket to Heaven, a Winner! No need to thank me, you pretty much earned it. Those guys though? Ppbbbht!” He gave a thumbs down, his grin growing darker. “They’re on the way to suck cocks in Hell.”

Lucia slumped back, looking herself over. Her pale skin was devoid of blemishes, injuries. She was dead, but she felt more alive than when she actually was. And… Heaven? She was actually granted passage to Heaven? This was too good to be true, it probably was. “How do I know you’re not just one of the Devil’s tricks…?”

“It’s the horns, isn’t it?” Adam chuckled, “Don’t worry, standard issue Exorcist boss-man uniform, concept by yours truly—” he coughed “—and designed by Sera…”

“Exorcist?”

“Hm? Oh, you see, my job is to go down to Hell once a year and… thin the herd.” He exemplified his point by swinging his guitar at a corpse, tugging up not blood and viscera but what looked like a cyclopean slug the size of a human. “Huh, this guy must have been really slow up in the noggin if he ain’t in Hell by now, not gonna lie, was kind of a blind pitch if I was gonna catch a vacating sinner soul. Oh well!”

Adam‘s guitar glowed with holy light, the slug disintegrating with a fading scream.

Lucia gawked at the scene before her. If he was telling the truth, then that must mean this bloated carcass her corpse was stabbing was still ‘alive’ somewhere. There were others like him, worse than him even, down in Hell that all deserved total oblivion. They abandoned morality for blasphemy and still thrived somewhere like maggots? That didn’t sit right with her at all. No… this needed to be corrected.

Adam caught on to her train of thought, slinking closer. “You wanna find him and put him out of existence’s misery for good, dontcha?” He raised his eyebrows. “All you gotta say is ‘Yes’, and you’re part of the team.”

Adam held out his hand.

“I get to join the First Man and enact God’s righteous fury upon sinners? No catch?”

“That’s the idea. To sweeten the pot, your first kill will be that guy.”

This was her chance to make things truly right, for her sisters, for Agatha. Without a second thought, Lucia grasped Adam’s hand, grinning as her eyes glistened like gold. This was the moment Lucia died, and Lute was born.

Lute leaned back on the couch, sighing with relief as she got her past off her chest. “Well, there you have it, my story. I know I skipped over some details like what happened during that year with that cunt, but the less said, the better for all of us.”

“Amen to that,” Angel acknowledged.

“We really appreciate you opening up to us like this,” Charlie said with a smile. “And between all of us, I’m glad he was your first target…”

“Yeah, me too,” Lute chuckled. “He’s the one mark I will never regret even after ending up here.”

Cherri sniggered, replaying the explanation of Lute stabbing the bandit over in her mind. "Fuckin' metal!" She held up a 'rock on' hand sign. “What was the cunt's name, anyway?”

“Don’t remember, don’t care, some monsters deserve obscurity.” Lute stood up, patting her thigh and shaking her leg to get rid of the odd static tingle from a sleeping limb. “I’m going to the gym. That cake is going straight to my hips otherwise…”

“I’ll say,” the spider joked, “You’ve started gettin’ a cake of your own. A— what’s the word?”

“I swear if you fuckin say it…” Husk growled.

Angel smirked, leaning in close to Husk’s face and whispered, “Gyat.”

Lute swiveled to glare over at Angel, her eyes wide and pupils dilated with a deep golden blush. “I think I found my skipping rope, string bean…!”

As the sounds of roughhousing took place behind that door, Alastor was standing just outside, eavesdropping, holding a piece of Lute’s old mask. Specifically, the eyepiece with the X over it. He curiously peeked through it, then pulled it away with his grin widening. “Interesting. So that’s how they can tell.” He flicked it like a coin, allowing it to effortlessly fall into a pocket inside his suit, vanishing just as the doors flung open to Lute dragging her new 8-limbed ‘training buddy’ by the collar of his shirt.

Chapter Text

Michael sat motionless in the Heavenly Court’s judge chair, reflecting. He knew he had time before the hearing began, however, he preferred to sit and wait. It gave the Archangel time to consider his options. He could hardly believe the news when Gabriel gave him a quick summary of everything that had happened in his absence. Exterminations, Adam’s death, Redeemed soul, Lucifer’s daughter… so much happened in such a short time, it was mindboggling.

The courtroom was empty, save for his two loyal cherubs skittering about like flies to do a full quality check of the equipment.

The very foundation of Heaven and Hell shuddered all because of the actions of one Charlie Morningstar’s efforts to save those poor souls sentenced to damnation.

His head tilted down, grimacing beneath his helmet. The sinners in Hell deserved to be there, that much was certain, but to go in year after year to expunge them? It was barbaric! And all while donning HIS colors? If Adam weren’t already dead, Michael would have reduced him to primordial ooze with his bare hands for that transgression, Elders be damned!.

Michael’s body burned with a bright blue aura at his barely contained fury, an ornate sword manifesting behind him as his halo moved to its hilt, and two gargantuan wings bathed in blue holy fire flared from his back. To him, a soul is sacred regardless of status.

He sighed, calming down as his sword dissipated and his wings folded with a graceful flap. He can’t let emotions get in the way, not now. All that mattered were the facts and how they determined Lilith’s future in Heaven or Hell. and perhaps Hell itself with the introduction of Sir Pentious.

“Reminiscing, brother?” the professional yet curt voice of Uriel came from the doorway, the other Archangel stepping through in a white suit jacket and pants with a black waistcoat and red tie.  Compared to Gabriel he was short, almost the same height as Lucifer, even sharing the alabaster skin and blond hair. Uriel’s hair was styled to be slicked back with prominent fringes, and his eyes were a blazing red, as were his wings, like a phoenix. He placed a briefcase on the single defendant's table. “Hm…” With a wave of his hand, the table split perfectly into two separate tables, a witness stand appearing right below the judge’s bench facing the sparse space ahead.

“Yes. I am,” Michael replied. “I see you have taken well to the fashion of humans.”

“Oh, this?” Uriel chuckled, pulling out his tie as it were a snake dancing between his fingers. “Humans appreciate showmanship, and I can’t deny they have excellent taste in decor for both buildings and themselves.” The tie returned to its proper place of its own volition, Uriel’s face darkening as he finally got to the point of his early visit. “I cannot guarantee my cross-examinations won’t be brutal to drive out the truth, you know that. And I expect the same unbiased judgment on your end. You may be the mightiest, but even you must adhere to the will of The Elders.”

“Their will is insignificant compared to truth and justice.”

“Oy…” Uriel slicked his fringes back, which bounced back into place. “Again with the hero routine. I mean— you’re not wrong, but tone it down.” He pointed up to Michael. “And save your ‘it’s been so long’ spiel with Lucifer until after the trial. I know how much of a sentimental teddy bear you can be.”

“Depends on my verdict…” Michael sighed, knowing that no matter how badly he wanted to just grant Lilith leave, he needed to take into account all the provided evidence for it to go through. He noticed the gallery begin to fill, and fixed his posture, now still as a statue. Uriel took the hint, sauntering off to his table and sitting down, opening his briefcase to arrange his notes.

Lucifer nursed the large red slap mark on his face, his eyes grumpily glaring at Sera pacing about in the private waiting room of Heaven’s Court. After being told by Abel that Michael was here they opted to take the portal directly inside, avoiding the traffic and prying eyes.

Molly and February were nearby, whispering to Abel and Sir Pentious.

Emily was just happy to be here, giggling as Lilith braided her hair into a long ponytail. It was uncanny how closely the Seraphim’s personality meshed with Charlie’s. No wonder those two got along like honey and toast.

The king’s phone buzzed in his jacket. “Hm?” He picked out the phone and checked, his daughter’s message from much earlier having finally gone through. His eyes lit up with recognition at what he should do while they have the time. “Uh, Sera! Bit of an odd question, but you wouldn’t happen to be missing any angels?”

Sera stopped pacing, staring over with her brow raised. “Missing angel?”

“Yeah, see, my little girl has a new addition to the hotel. I’m no good with names, but does Lute ring a bell?”

All eyes turned to him, all of them shocked.

“Wait! Lute’s alive? Oh, thank God!” Molly let out an elated sigh. “Might as well tell you all, but we were trying to find out how she went missing in the first place! Did she ‘Fall’?”

Everyone but the royals of Hell’s gaze turned to Sera, who defensively raised her hands. “Don’t look at me, if she were to be Fallen it would have been a bigger deal in the news considering her rank next to Adam.”

“She’s right, it wasn’t her doing. It was Fuse,” Lucifer answered. “Lute opened up about what happened to her, and…fuck…they really put her through the wringer before tossing her out. I’d get into the details but I really… REALLY don’t wanna go into full detail.”

“Then summarise.”

He coldly stared up at her. “They cauterized her wings after taking her virginity. That’s the short of it.”

Emily gulped, eyes snapping wide, then narrowed, turning to look up at her fellow Seraphim. “After this trial, we are making this the next subject,” she demanded, expecting Sera to push back, but when she turned to look, Sera’s eyes were all open and ablaze with rage.

“You’re right, Emily,” she growled through gritted teeth.

“I mean, if you all want to make that the main topic over my case, I won’t argue, I even encourage it,” Lilith piped up.

“As much as we would like to, Heaven has a stringent order of bureaucracy,” Sera murmured, annoyed that her own system was preventing this more urgent matter from getting through. “Fucking red tape.”

“Did I just hear you swear?” Lucifer commented.

“Is Lute okay?” Emily asked hopefully.

“Hm? Yeah, she’s been making a lot of progress from what Charlie tells me and from what I’ve seen. Even made friends at the hotel and with a sinner outside of it. She’s still a bit of a pragmatist, but she’s dropped the whole ‘raaah sinner bad!’ routine.”

Lilith giggled. “That’s our special little duckling, always bringing out the best in people!”

Molly and February caught Lucifer eyeing them up and down, a hand to his chin as if he was thinking. “Huh… a spider and a moth…” he mumbled, pointing to Molly, “You look like the sinner in Charlie’s hotel, kinda.”

“Ah, we weren’t formally introduced!” Molly stammered, clearing her throat. “My name is Molly, I’m Anthony’s sister! Though you probably know him as Angel Dust. This is my best friend, February.”

The moth waved, grinning. “My cousin in Hell is the stronzo called Valentino!” she said with all the confidence of a show-and-tell. “If I were in Hell right now, I’d make him suffer with Mama’s sandal!”

Lucifer wheezed at that response. “Yup yup, oh yup, you two are now my favourite Winners in Heaven as of this moment. No offense, Penty.”

“None taken,” Pentious replied.

Lilith smirked, addressing them in perfect Italian, “[You two are friends with benefits, aren’t you?]”

Molly tried to hide a blush, but February didn’t even deny it, tugging Molly in close to lean against her. “[Was it that obvious?]” She buried her face into Molly’s giant poofy ponytail, making happy moth squeaks.

Rather than get into why they aren’t just officially dating at this point, Lilith just smiled, nodding. “[Good for you two.]”

Sera checked the clock on the wall, clapping her hands to get everyone’s attention. “Okay, everyone! Let’s get moving.” She opened a portal directly to the main courtroom. The easing atmosphere instantly tensed at the looming shimmering gateway, Michael’s overwhelming presence oozing through like lava from an erupting volcano.

Lucifer stood up, tightening his bowtie, and took hold of Lilith’s hand, helping her up before giving her wrist a gentle kiss. He looked confident enough, but he was visibly sweating.

“Let’s do this…”

“Sob story, sob story, sob-fucking-story,” Vox grunted, skimming through the recording of Lute’s life story while seated in his main control chair, all screens displaying binary data and audio visualisers. Velvette stood nearby, grimacing slightly at the details she could hear.

Valentino was taking notes… on what? Most likely ways to torment Lute when he had her as part of his studio.

“90% complete,” Lutebot Prime’s head stated, her dead-eyed gaze locked onto Vox. “Am I complete, sir?”

Velvette glowered at the thing, barely concealing her disgust. “Right, that's everything then? I’m sure you can get the rest of the data through her phone now.”

Vox didn’t even look up at her, waving her off. “Yeah, yeah.”

“Do… we really need the real Lute?” she asked. That got his attention.

“The fuck kind of retarded question is that? Of course we do. With her on our contract payroll, it sends a message.” Vox swiveled around in his chair, glaring like a teacher to a talkative child, expecting an explanation. He was already losing his patience with Velvette’s attitude as of late, and this might just be the cherry on top.

“We already have a monopoly on every entertainment sector in the Pride Ring, even most of Imp City. One angel is just a fuckin’ victory lap when you’ve already set up to win!”

“And?”

Velvette’s eyes narrowed. “And? I’ve been doin’ most of the fucking work! You still haven’t approved the rest of my line to go through even after you made me expose my tits on livestream! Which, by the way, the paywall already got bypassed. So now my pierced tatas are out for free!” She then turned to Valentino’s smug grin. “And don’t think I’ve forgotten that it was you who changed my script last minute and sabotaged the collar to snap!”

She threw her hands up and continued ranting.

“I’ve been going to the Overlord meetings solo repre-fucking-rentin’ you lot, and what do I have to show for it?! All I want is some appreciation for my work!”

“What about Love Potion?” Valentino asked smugly, knowing full well it would get a rise out of her. She was just the advertising for it, it was mostly his work because of his unique pheromone.

She glowered over at him.

Vox mimed a yapping dog with his hand, picking at his non-existent ear and shrugging. Velvette’s eye twitched and turned around to leave, but she felt her neck get jolted back, the air getting knocked out of her throat. She reached up, grasping at an ethereal blue iron collar with a button on it. She turned around, hands shaking as Vox was holding the chain. On his throat and Valentino’s was the same identical collar, only Vox’s lacked the button. This was a Mutual Soul Contract. A rare variant only available to Overlords who amassed a sizable number of souls. If a contract like that was sealed, all participants would enter an agreement where all souls acquired were to be shared between them, with an opt-out switch. Pressing that switch meant the Overlord would forgo all collected souls and lose their status as an Overlord if they opted out.

It was a risky Hail Mary tactic to gain more power, and the ball was permanently in Vox’s court at this stage; no matter what, he wins.

“If you wanna call it quits, the button’s right there,” he growled, finally having had enough of this, emphasising his point with a rough tug of the chain, forcing Velvette to her knees.

Velvette slowly reached up, her finger trembling over the button, then fell to her side as her gaze lowered to the floor.

“Get out of my sight,” Vox commanded, the chains and collars vanishing. “I expect the final piece of data on my desk the day after.”

Taking it as her cue to finally leave the room, she practically ran out, slamming the door behind her. Brass was waiting for her outside, scrolling through Sinstagram. She looked up from the screen, seeing her boss look equal parts disgusted and guilty.

“Ma’am?” she asked, concerned, “Are you okay?” The succubus then noticed the bruises on Velvette's throat forming. "Oh my Satan..."

Wordlessly, Velvette tugged her succubus assistant along through the halls until they reached the private dressing rooms, making sure to place her phone inside a vase bearing VoxTek’s colors for later. She made sure no one else was nearby before closing the door and locking it behind them, for extra security, they squeezed into a cubicle by the far end. The fashionista took a deep, shuddering breath before exhaling. 

“Brass… what I’m about to tell you never leaves this room, but I need your full trust in this…”

“I’ve gone this far by your side, ma’am. What's the assignment?"

Chapter Text

The shimmering portal conjured by the High Seraphim fizzled out once everyone stepped in, being met with the same courtroom where Charlie first appeared to make her case for sinner rehabilitation. The gallery was packed, all eyes on the group who had made their timely appearance. Towering above them all was Gabriel, his helmet hiding his expression but the occulacrum just barely gave a glimpse into the ever-shifting eyes of the Archangel acting judge.

Those of the group not directly participating in the case, that being Molly, February, and Emily, were escorted to a specially-prepared gallery bench off to the side by Gabriel’s cherubs.

Michael stood, his blue orbs of fire blazing. “Thank you all for coming. We are gathered here to determine if the First Woman, the First Sinner, Lilith Magne Morningstar, is suitable to return to Hell alongside her husband, Lucifer Magne Morningstar in light of recent events in the Pride Ring revolving around the Exorcists and the redemption of the former sinner, Sir Pentious.”  He gestured with an open hand towards Lilith. “Mrs. Morningstar, do you have legal representation?”

Sera stepped forward, bowing her head toward the Archangel. “I, High Seraphim Sera, shall act as a defense in favor of the defendant.”

“Any objections?”

Not a peep came from the gallery, nor from Uriel, who was still rifling through his notes.

“Very well,” Michael rumbled, seating himself and raising his hand to conjure a simple wooden gavel which he slammed with a resounding thud. “Court is now in session!”
“If it pleases the court, I would like to begin my cross-examination with the defense herself, as she also plays a major part in this case as both a witness… and potential defendant,” Uriel said, a few murmurs making their way from the gallery. The gavel slammed a few times to silence them.

“Proceed,” Michael stated flatly.

The Archangel of wisdom gestured broadly over to Sera. “Could you please tell us your role in all this?

Sera cleared her throat. “Ladies and gentlemen of the court, as all of you are aware, I was responsible for allowing Adam to reign terror upon the sinners of Hell under the belief that they were a danger to the foundations and morals of Heaven if their population grew too large. A few months ago, Princess Charlotte Magne Morningstar made her case that they could be redeemed, and I did not listen. This led to Adam declaring war upon the Hazbin Hotel, officially named the Happy Hotel, for the record. This inadvertently violated the uneasy treaty signed between Heaven and Hell that Hellborn demons would be unharmed. Charlie fits that criteria, and Adam did indeed attack her, as Lucifer can attest.”

“And… what are the conditions of that treaty?” Uriel asked.

“If that treaty were to be violated, the Excorcists would be disbanded effective immediately upon discovery and Hell be left to its own devices until a suitable solution for handling sinners could be discovered.”

Uriel began stalking around the High Seraphim, hands behind his back. “And due to Adam’s death, leadership was to be transferred to his next of kin, Abel. Is that correct?”

“Correct, prosecutor.”

As the line of questioning continued, Lucifer could only stare at Michael’s unmoving figure. He wanted so badly to just… call out to his closest friend, to try and reconnect like brothers once again. He never even got to thank him for saving his ass during his fall. Michael through his helmet bore the same morose expression. In that moment, the universe itself practically fell away leaving just those two for the briefest moment of which felt like lifetimes. The illusion broke just as swiftly, the line of questioning now focused on Sir Pentious.

“So, this is the fabled first Redeemed? You’ve been cleared for stay in Heaven by the High Seraphim. Congratulations, it must have been quite an experience.” Uriel kept his distance, but tilted his head slightly while his eyes shifted back to Sera. “But, one soul out of an innumerable billion upon trillions has no basis on if Hell is truly ready for redemption. So how can we trust that Lilith will not incite Hell to rise up if we do allow her to return?”

Sera glowered, “Objection, we had no proof she was in the first place! Also, the hotel already knows, we plan to make it an official announcement to the rest of Hell later through the embassy.”

“Sustained,” Michael commented. “There has been no record of Mrs. Morningstar preparing an army through what I could assume to be music.”

“Arias mostly,” Lilith clarified with a small smile.

Uriel nodded, returning to his table to pick up a dossier, breaking the wax seal holding it shut. “If that is the case, we can review your transcript and recording from when you were first sanctioned to your beachhouse by Adam. Do we have the big glass orb?”

Lilith’s smile fell. He wouldn't?

Sera tried to object again. “That was after an emotionally charged meeting with someone who didn’t even respect Holy authority! I object!”

“Overruled,” Michael coldly replied. “I’m sure the court is interested in this transcript.”

Sera looked over her shoulder at Lilith, mouthing, “I’m so sorry…”

Michael’s cherubs struggled a little, but the giant glass scrying orb had been dragged in, Uriel approaching it confidently and reading off the date of the transcript and location. The glass orb brightened with a red glow from the Archangel’s touch, projecting a screen that paradoxically displayed the scene to all viewers regardless of their placement.

The scene depicted Lilith in her full regal dress, glaring daggers at Adam as they discussed the terms of their ‘deal’ in her beachhouse prison.

“So, here’s the deal, you stay here so we don’t have an uprising on our hands with your… ‘music’.” Adam airquoted mockingly. “And the filthy little fuckers who aren’t sinners are off the hook. As a bonus, you get beachfront property and all the ribs you can eat!”

Lilith was barely holding her composure, face red with rage. She hissed, “If it were completely up to me, your little paradise of lies would be in ruins, you mistake.”

“Careful babe, eyes and ears everywhere!” Adam replied with a smirk, gesturing to one of his Exorcists. “Hey, Hot-tits, you got the contract?”

An Exorcist with a grinning stitched mask stepped into frame, slamming down the contract and waggling a quill.

Molly squinted, eyes focusing on that Exorcist, she nudged Emily and pointed with wide eyes. That red ponytail was unmistakable.

Lilith snatched the quill and hastily wrote down her name. “Fine, you petulant prick!” She practically shoved the contract back into the waiting hands of Fuse, who read it over.

She gave the First Man the thumbs up. “All nice and legal,” she crooned.

“Heyyy, no worries, babe! If I retire, my son’ll handle everything. IF. Some bullshit Sera made me add, but whatever. Not like I will, or die for that matter.” His masked warbled slightly, his grin briefly glitching into a worried frown.

“‘If it were completely up to me, your little paradise of lies would be in ruins’”, Uriel quoted. “Normally, this would be out of date if we were to talk about a still-living mortal soul, but keep in mind Lilith was held in the custody of Heaven for only over seven years, a blip in time compared to her immortality. How can we be sure she isn’t still holding that grudge?”

“Because if that were true, wouldn’t she have done so from within Heaven?” Abel interjected. “I have the written contract right here!” He raised a scroll from his robes. “If you can please check the third paragraph of the terms and conditions, your honor, we have clear proof that Lilith was given authority over the Exorcists, second only to my father, which in hindsight may have been a ploy to rile her up with the false promise of control… but if she had authority over them, she had authority over Heaven’s general security forces who were a step below the Exorcists! If she did hold a grudge, she could have conspired within Heaven, the communications ban was only between her and Hell.”

Michael scowled, snapping his fingers, the contract levitating over to him and unfurling itself. He quietly read through the contract in its entirety to ensure no detail was overlooked. “Mrs. Morningstar, if the contract here is to be believed… and the watermark clearly is the real deal…” He squinted, furling up the scroll upon seeing Adam’s unique signature watermark of his head and hand doing a thumbs up with a text bubble saying ‘Fuck you, I do what I want’. “Why didn’t you go through with any incursion?”

“Your honor, I am but one woman at the time surrounded by sycophants of Adam’s word. Even if, I repeat, if, I were to try, I would have put my denizens of Hell in further danger. It would have been an incalculable risk on my part. Also, the beachfront property was a luxury I couldn’t lose over a cell.”

“An interesting point,” Michael hummed, pleased with the response. He looked over to Uriel who hadn’t said a word of objection to the contract. “Did you have her psychologically evaluated, prosecutor?”

“I… do have her notes, but they are sadly out of date. The last psych eval was after her and Adam first broke up.”

With a new window to the case, Sera made her shot. “I request a temporary extension so that we can have Lilith evaluated!”

The Archangel acting judge looked over to Uriel, expecting an objection. Uriel instead shrugged. “I agree, this was an oversight on my end, and I take responsibility.”

Michael straightened, raising his shoulders as if barely concealing relief. “Very well, I hereby grant the defendant and her husband a one-week Heaven-pass under Sera’s supervision until we can get this straightened out. Lilith will subject herself to a third-party psychological test, and to ensure nothing slips through, it shall be the most thorough in Heaven, The Minos Test. Dismissed!” He slammed the gavel.

The gallery dispersed, leaving everyone alone within the court. Lucifer flared his wings and flapped them to gain some height, approaching Michael. The cherubs flew in the way, but with a swift wave of Michael’s hand, they got the message and let the king of Hell approach. “So, uh… ‘sup?”

That caught the Archangel off guard, of all the things Lucifer could have said when greeting him again for the first time in centuries, and the best he could come up with was ‘sup’. “...’Sup” he parrotted, the awkward silence sinking in further.

Uriel cringed, gathering his documents and promptly leaving the courtroom. “I’ll just… go prepare the Minos Test.”

“Ok look, I’m kinda lost on what to say here. You vanish after The Flood and suddenly you’re back as judge in a case about my wife. What gives? Why come back now?”

“Your daughter,” Michael replied, interlacing his fingers. “She did what even The Elders thought impossible, what even the High Seraphim herself dismissed as a fleeting delusion. That got my attention.” He seemed to drop all professionalism as he leaned over to address Sera directly behind Lucifer. “And don’t you think you’re off the hook for that, mind you, there’s still the issue of allowing what Adam did!”

Sera gulped, an unsettled smile on her lips, her whole body shaking like a leaf. “U-Understood, Saint Michael, sir.”

“Dang… I’m basically her rank, and even I can’t scare her,” Lucifer mused. “Guess sending me to Hell carries weight around here. At most, I just get on her nerves! Haha!” he nervously laughed.

Before he could return to talking to Michael, the hulking figure leapt down and landed with a resounding, thunderous crash, shaking the room. “Excuse me a moment, Lucifer. There’s something I need to do before I forget.” He began walking right past the still trembling Sera, his blue orbs of flame illuminating the barely visible beads of sweat from utter terror seeing this behemoth land like a meteor in front of her. He then leaned down, lifting Emily to eye level with a single hand. “Hello there.”

Emily gave his helmeted head a huge hug. “Uncle Michael!”

“Sorry I couldn’t greet you before… or in the court…”

“No— I get it, you have to be impartial during trials. I missed you…”

“I know, I’m sorry… I just couldn’t face Heaven after seeing what happened…”

The smaller Seraphim continued hugging Michael’s helmet, just trying to comfort him.

Lucifer landed nearby, “Heh, looks like you have a ‘Charlie’ of your own.”

“Awhatnow?” Michael rumbled, wondering what Charlie had to do with this.

“Nothing, nothing, how about we catch up and hang out? Bet I could still beat you at air hockey!”

Michael sighed, setting Emily down, who cooed like a dove when he patted her head with a tap of his finger. “I’d love to, but I can’t until the trial is over. If I were to be seen in public ‘hanging out’ with the defendant’s representatives it wouldn’t paint a pretty picture. It might even have the entire trial permanently dismissed by The Elders, and Lilith would be trapped in her gilded cage for eternity."

“Well you’re certainly a lot more professional than Satan,” Lilith growled. “When I get back to Hell, I just want to…” She mimed strangling someone with a deranged, wide-eyed yet focused look. She cleared her throat, chuckling. “Pardonnez moi, he’s the current law-enforcer of the Hellborn, but not for long…” The queen’s sweet smile belied the rage of a thousand suns.

“She— uh… she found out about the Goetia and Imp trial a month ago…I kinda let it slip yesterday and she’s been pissed about it,” Lucifer whispered to Michael, referring to certain events during Sinsmas. The Archangel didn’t understand a word of what that meant, but nodded along. “Anyway… hey babe! Wanna call Charlie?” He held up his phone, waggling it slightly.

“I’d like that.” Lilith grinned, her aura of doom evaporating instantly.

Chapter Text

A couple of days had passed, and Lute was uncharacteristically optimistic about her morning. Rather than spend breakfast alone in her room, she was on her way to the hotel food court. It has been seldom used ever since Lucifer added it, but Niffty could sure cook up a storm for a buffet menu. The trays were mostly empty with a few options, but with more guests, hopefully there would be more meal choices.

Today’s breakfast was Hell Chicken eggs with honey-glazed Hell Pig ham and pancakes. The purple color was off-putting, but otherwise delicious.

No hallucinations, no night terrors. The first fully refreshing sleep she has had in years, even during her time as an Exorcist she never slept this well. It was suspicious how her inner voice never berated her at all this morning, or the night before for daring to try and be anything other than somewhat happy for that matter. Maybe Violet’s positivity was rubbing off on her? That girl streams some of the most competitive shit and even when losing she always keeps herself upbeat, Lute most likely would have dented a wall if she tried, especially being down an arm… at best she could try playing that weird card game if she ended up getting her own home computer. Cash was tight, however, and she wasn’t looking for handouts from Charlie. Lute still had some pride as an angel left.

Dressed in her finest casual wear, a black tank top and ripped jeans with leather shoes, the angel strolled through the lobby, stopping at Husk’s bar. Husk raised an eyebrow, seeing Lute so… upbeat. “Alright, I’ll bite, did you beat Vaggie in a spar yesterday?” 

Lute shrugged, shaking her head. “Mmm… nah, thanks for the idea though.”

“You’ve been up all night watching Violet’s streams, haven’t you?” Husk deadpanned, “You know you can just call her and chat, right?”

“I do.”

“Then why the fuck you bothering me for?”

“Oh, right, I kinda need a drink to go for breakfast,” she requested, pointing sheepishly to a bottle of low alcohol beer.

Husk shrugged, fluttering his wings. “Sure, kid.” He turned around to snatch the bottle off a shelf and laid it down on the counter, flicking the cap off with a claw. “If Charlie or Vaggie sees ya with it, you didn’t get it from me.”

As Lute would begin to walk off, Husk took hold of her shoulder.

“Hold up… wear the mouthpiece before you go there.”

She rolled her eyes, getting a little annoyed. “Fucking hell, you still haven’t gotten your kicks seeing me with it?”

“Yes and no." While Husk found the mouthpiece hilarious and was all for seeing Lute look like she just got finished stealing a canary from its cage, he did have a decent enough reason for her to wear it as soon as she could. "Trust me, wear it before you go to the dining room. You’ll thank me later, just leave the bottle with me, I’ll keep it cool for ya. Loop.”

Before Lute could ask why Husk just began chugging from a bottle of vodka, marking this conversation as over. “...Fine,” she grunted, placing her bottle down and turning to walk back to the stairwell leading to her room. “Fucking cryptic-ass cat, can’t ever get a straight answer out of half of everyone in this place…!” Her positive attitude for the day was already souring from that.

She approached her room and practically shoved the door open like a moody teen, snatching her mouthpiece laying on the bedside table and slapping it onto her face, the cat-like grin glitching into a dissatisfied cartoony frown. Lute turned on her heel and then slammed her door shut on the way out, pausing to note how the room opposite her’s in the hall seemed off. She squinted, seeing that the thing had a charm hanging off the peephole, it was a British flag connected by a piece of string.

“Cute.”

Not giving it a second glance, she continued her ‘epic’ journey to get her bottle of swill back and get some food in her before going for another round in the gym. If she kept up the routine, she might even get a four-pack by the end of the month. Though she couldn’t for the life of her figure out why all that excess weight goes anywhere but her chest. She wasn’t self-concious by any means of her cup size but… seeing the fucking male pornstar sport a larger rack while she was almost as flat as a washboard did annoy her somewhat.

Lute arrived back at the bar, her bottle now chilled to a refreshing temperature as she snatched it back up. “Thanks,” she said, not even pausing in her stride.

Cherri walked past Lute with a two-fingered salute, leaving the food court with a knowing grin. She seated herself at the bar as the angel walked out of earshot. “You didn’t tell her didja?”

“Nah, I did warn her to put on her mouthpiece, I have a feelin’ she’s gonna wanna keep it on hand.”

As Lute continued her walk through the garish, faded apple-red hallways, she stopped at the double-doors leading to the food court, swinging them open and freezing in place. Instinctively, she shifted to hide behind the doorway. Just to make sure she did a double-take on what she saw. Sure enough, Violet was on a height-boosting seat, enjoying a plate of pancakes with ham slices layered between each pancake.

She did a triple-take, nope, that was Violet, the pink mohawk was unmistakable. She couldn’t have? Did the shorty actually sign up for the hotel…?

Lute took a deep breath, calming herself. She was hungry and not like she could complain seeing her friend more often.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, acting surprised as she stepped inside. “Violet?”

Violet looked up at Lute through a mouthful of pancakes, a piece of ham sticking out between her lips. “Mmm?” Her eyes lit up, waving cheerfuly and gulping her mouthful. “Loop! Glad ya can make it! This stuff’s delicious! C’mon, pull up a chair!”

“In a sec, just gonna grab my plate.” Lute began fast-walking over to a pile of plates, picking one up and piling it with a modest-sized breakfast. With similar speed, she returned to Violet’s table, taking a seat. “So, you actually signed up?” she asked, equal parts amused and nervous.

“Bed, breakfast, and therapy this cheap? Can’t really say no to that, bonus is I only have to pay for remodelling my room.”

“Remodelling? Huh, didn’t know that was allowed.” Lute cursed herself for not considering that option for her room. It was nice, but it did need her own personal touch somewhere besides the… uniform hung up.

Note to self: invest in safe to hide uniform.

“What’d you add?”

Violet smirked. “Wanna see?” Her smirk faltered slightly, a slight blush creeping on her face. Lute’s mouthpiece was a disconcerted, albeit smug smirk mirroring the short sinner’s, as if readying a retort to that otherwise innocent offer worded like an alluring invitation.  “Not like that, perv.”

“Aw, and here I thought you wanted to,” Lute teased. She blinked rapidly, questioning if she had really just said that. The angel’s golden blush concealed, she stabbed a slice of ham with her fork and took a big bite. “We pretend this moment never happened?”

“Deal.”

The women sat there, processing what had just happened before laughing together. It felt good, casual awkwardness was bliss when it involved someone comfortable to be oneself around. Catching her breath, Lute continued to eat her breakfast. “You still gonna keep streaming here?” she asked.

Violet nodded. “Mhm, one of the renovations I made was soundproofing. “Got a few online tournaments too, if you want, I can make you a moderator for my channel? Though… not much my usual mod staff can do. Hell is Hell.”

“Hell is Hell,” the angel agreed. “I’ll still be watching. I love the way you make them rage.” She remembered the moment vividly last night, watching Violet systematically dismantle someone’s ego in a fighting game; she couldn’t recall the name, but it did involve a lot of muscular men with golden hair screaming. If the Exorcists trained their coordination and reflexes with games like these, they would have been nigh unstoppable. Shame that most training sessions were either target practice or errands disguised as cardio. Now that she thought about it, she was the only one doing proper training drills… no wonder she wasn’t one of the many literally ramming themselves into Alastor’s weird Voodoo shield.

Just out of sight, Alastor himself was observing this lovely sight, the eyepiece of Lute’s old mask held up to his eye with a wide grin. Niffty skittered nearby, crawling up to his shoulder like a lemur. “Whatcha watchin’, sir?” she giggled, swinging back and forth on his arm.

“Oh, just enjoying some dramatic irony,” he said with a chuckle, holding the eyepiece out over her line of sight. “Have a look.”

Niffty’s eye squinted, then widened. “Ooooh, shiny…!” she cackled, “Jingle jangle!”

“Indeed, my dear, ‘shiny’. But we must keep our lips sealed on this, okay?” Alastor patted his loyal maid’s head. She nodded maniacally. “Though I may perhaps have a little one-on-one talk with our new guest— see how she enjoys the accommodations…” his voice darkened, radio static hissing and popping, then returning to his casual jovial demeanor. “But later, I so do enjoy a slow roast!” The radio demon slipped the piece back into his pocket, vanishing as Niffty hopped off his shoulder to return to her duties.

“You used to flash yourself when donated to?” Lute asked, shocked. Their conversation had veered from one awkward topic to another. Violet was scratching the back of her head nervously.

“Had to make a name for myself. Hard to compete when the top streamers mostly come from the Lust Ring, I’m still in second place next to Verosika Mayday in the viewer count,” Violet grumbled, she noticed Lute’s quizical expression, her eyes darting down a moment. “Not because she has bigger tits than me!” she exclaimed, crossing her arms over her chest, though that did little to hide it considering her claim was true. “It’s ‘cos she has a better singin’ voice.”

“Or maybe you never tried singing on stream?” Lute pointed her fork, then took another bite of her breakfast.

“...I mean… I could try?”

Vox lounged in his meeting room seat at the head of a table, Valentino and Velvette seated opposite each other on the edges. Valentino was waiting with rapt attention, his wings fluttering excitedly for Vox’s reveal. Velvette couldn’t care less, idly tapping on her phone.

“I’ll cut to the chase, Lutebot Prime is good and ready, and mass production is in full swing with the nerds downstairs,” Vox said, kicking his legs up on the table. Velvette hid a scowl behind her phone, not even a 'thank you' her way for the data. “Say hello, Lute!”

From above, the ceiling opened a panel, blackness inside. Silent as an owl, a perfectly identical body double of Lute landed out of the darkness above, standing into her signature at-the-ready posture and a smirk surveying the room. She took in the shocked looks of the other two Overlords. Her wings folded against her body. “Hm, you weren’t kidding, sir. That was menacing.” Even her voice was a perfect one-to-one. She hopped up onto the table, sitting with her ankle over her thigh.

“Soon, every rich asshat with cash to spend or poor bastard with a soul to lose will own one of these!” Vox chuckled.

“Right… so what’s the point of this one, then? Besides bein' a prototype?” Velvette sniggered.

“Ah—” Before the tech demon could stop his creation, Lutebot was already gripping Velvette’s throat, glaring intensely. “Yeah, see, look what you’ve gone and done? You wounded her pride.”

“I am NOT a prototype! I am the real deal!” Lutebot snarled. “I am the original! I am superior to the weak-willed husk I am replacing in the hierarchy!”

“Directive; Heel,” Vox commanded sternly.

As if a switch had been flipped, the body double released the gasping fashionista, her head twisting a full 180 to address Vox with a sultry voice, “Of course, sir.”

Valentino pointed at his own throat with all his hands. “Ooh! Choke me next!”

“I don’t take orders from you,” Lutebot replied in her usual crass tone. “But keep tempting me, and I might.”

“She even has backtalk too, a papa le gusta… she might put Kitty out of a job.”

“Fucking crazy puppet!” Velvette rasped, gathering herself. “So now what? We got the data and shit, how will that make the real Lute— flesh and blood Lute— sign her soul up? This ain’t exactly leverage.”

Vox stood up, patting his creation on the head. “I’m glad you asked! See, we have leverage, and I think you know the kind of leverage we have. And to drive the point home that we aren’t fucking around, I cashed in a few favors and had this shipped in. Lutebot? Open your present.”

He gestured to a floor panel behind his chair which rose up, a cabinet within that was usually used for housing a classic television for remote meetings. The doors clicked, then swung open with force, expelling a mist, golden streaks of light piercing through the thick, cooling fog. The mist slowly cleared, the radiant light now blinding. Settled inside the cabinet was none other than Adam’s guitar axe.

“No… fucking… way,” Velvette gasped, staring dumbfounded at the holy relic, her phone slipping out of her hand. “Adam’s guitar?! Are you fucking insane?! How did you even get that?”

Vox smirked. “Adam dropped it after getting the shit beaten out of him by Lucifer, some sinner who fancied themselves a rock star found it, then beat his girlfriend to death with it after an argument. When she didn’t ‘respawn’, he tried pawning it off to Carmilla. One of my guys got to him first.” He dragged a finger across his throat. 

Lutebot Prime grinned, grabbing the instrument by the neck, gliding her fingers down the strings from the tuning pegs down to the bridge pins, a harmonic electric hum following her movements. It felt right, it felt at home. As if on instinct, she began strumming the intro of Rhapsody - Emerald Sword, asserting her dominance over the instrument of the First Man as its current master.

Chapter Text

Angel Dust read off his script, squinting at the dialogue. “Uh, ‘Fuck me harder, you flame-tongued cunt’. Geeze, Val, didja hire some bimbo off the street to write this?” He shook the pile of papers. “The formatting is way off! I can’t tell half of what my lines are in this thing. Like, when it says ‘cum’ here, it also tells me to hold off, how’s that even possible?”

Valentino took a deep puff from his long cigarette, seated on his director’s chair. “Si, si, the writing staff has been a little slow,” he agreed, “But you work with what you got. And what you got is holes that need to be filled, so, improvise!”

“Improvise… right…” Angel grimaced at his outfit, the fetishized Exorcist uniform clinging to his body like a second skin. It felt uncomfortable in more ways than just wearing what is essentially to most sinners a Nazi uniform, but his role has him retract his extra two limbs leaving him with just his normal pair, which hurt like a bitch, and the suit riding up in all the wrong ways. Like wearing a Borat swimsuit made of sandpaper. “Is Velve off her game too? This stuff don’t exactly scream seal of quality.”

“Ehhh, more or less.” The moth checked his phone for the time, and he growled. “That pendejo co-star of yours is late! If he isn’t dead, I’ll kill him myself! We’re on a schedule!” Valentino’s wings flapped, sending a powerful gust that nearly took everyone in the filming studio off their feet. Angel, however, was sent flying onto the bed taking centre stage. A soft landing, but terrifying.

One of the many assistants slid forward, holding a tray with some coffee and creamer. She was shivering, hoping the treat would distract the Overlord enough from taking it out on everyone. A tense moment later he snatched the cup, drinking it in a single gulp, exhaling the steam between his fangs.

“Should… I just wait in my dressing room ‘till the guy’s here?” Angel asked hesitantly.

Valentino huffed, waving off his prized pronstar. “Take five, if that waste of space doesn’t get here by then I’ll get one of Velvette’s male models to take over.”

Not wanting to waste a moment and get out of these garments, Angel Dust ran his dressing room, shutting the door behind him and nearly tearing the suit off, leaving the top dangling off his hips while his second pair of arms jutted out from his torso with a few cracks. He sighed with relief, running his hands through his hair and slumping against the vanity mirror. Needing some positive social stimulation, he dialed up Cherri, it answered instantly with a video call.

Before he could greet her with the usual ‘Heya bitch!’ he saw he was put on mute while Cherri was giggling quietley behind a doorway, Husk standing opposite while peeking in. the bombshell demon shifted her camera over to point at inside the doorway leading to the food court.

Lute and Violet were chatting it up, laughing and joking. Their plates had been empty and gone for a long while now, gone into the backroom at the mercy of Niffty’s brush.

“No fuckin’ way? Since when did she sign up to the joint?” Angel asked quietly, he had been busy at the studio for an overtime shift while Violet moved in. 

While they couldn’t hear what the two women were talking about, their body gestures being so relaxed and ecstatic gave the vibe of a couple on a first date. Angel whined that he couldn’t be there to tease Lute like an annoying older brother for the situation. “Wanna bet they’re gonna fuck?” Cherri whispered to Husk.

“Nah… Lute doesn’t swing that way, I think,” Husk whispered back, smirking. “Maybe with a few beers?”

They jumped as Vaggie’s voice hissed from behind Cherri, “Nuh-uh, no inciting lesbianism through alcohol…! Huh… not a sentence I expected to be saying.”

Charlie’s voice was right next to Vaggie, her hair peeking into frame when she snuck a look at Lute and Violet still conversing. She looked back, her joyful grin barely contained as she bounced slightly. “I knew having their rooms close together would be a good idea…!” 

“ARE YOU FUCKING FILMING US RIGHT NOW?!?!” Lute screamed off-camera. The gang clamoured to get away from the scene, laughing like a bunch of college students.

“See you in art class!” Charlie called over her shoulder, being carried by Vaggie like it was a Scooby Doo chase.

The call ended, and Valentino’s reflection was looming over Angel’s shoulder, his lips twisted into a smirk. “New guest at that agujero de mierda, hmm?” He hadn’t taken a good look at Violet, but seeing Lute conversing with someone visibly not any he currently knows narrowed it down to someone new.

“Uhm… y-yeah, she’s new,” Angel gulped, hoping to change the subject. “Is my five minutes up?”

“Mhm…!” Valentino nodded, arching over the spider who was cowering back. “I found you a new co-star, she’s taken the liberty of stepping in.”

“W—Woah woah! Val, you know I ain’t into broads… unless I’m gettin’ paid triple.”

He waved off his employee’s concerns, “Don’t worry, you won’t be fucking her, she’s new, and eager to take charge…” Valentino practically drooled, his grin growing into a sneer. The room darkened until it was just his barely visible silhouette darting back to the door and swinging it open. Standing in the open doorway was a woman, dressed in full Exorcist gear except for one difference; her mask resembled a blank helmet, rabbit-ear antennae curled like horns from the ears of the headpiece. It lit up, a stitched grin glitching into a view with an X for an eye, and a blue and red hypnotic glare for the other.

“Hello,” she drawled, a blue halo of electricity sparking to life.

Now at the gym, Lute was delivering kick after kick to a sandbag, the chain rattling with the force of each one, capable of denting a skull. “One… two… one… two,” she huffed, keeping a steady rhythm. She was dressed in her usual gym attire, a sweatband on her forehead on top of the Loop disguise accessories. She can’t really complain about that, back during her time as an Exorcist she rarely ever took the mask off— sometimes even sleeping with it.

Winding up a heavy kick she rammed her foot into the sandbag, briefly punching through as it bent, swinging back to a standstill. She took a few deep breaths, admiring her work through the visible footprint left on the surface of her inanimate training buddy.

“Not bad,” the perky voice of Violet piped up from behind.

Lute turned and looked down, then her eyes darted away.

Holy fuck…

Violet was dressed in a tight cerise leotard, a white spiral swirling out from the belly button area, meeting at the back of the same location as well as forearm and leg warmers bearing the same color and spiral pattern. And tight, was tight. It didn’t help that the short woman didn’t even bother wearing leggings. “Mind if I take a crack at it?”

“Uhm…y-yeah sure, you want me to lower it for you?”

“That’d be nice!” Violet giggled.

She observed patiently, watching Lute turn a hand-crank on one of the four steel supporting beams holding the sandbag, the chain lowering it just enough so Violet could punch it without missing. The angel gave the bag a heavy thwack with her fist, watching it swing to make sure it didn’t fall right off.

“All yours,” Lute said, trying to avert her gaze from Violet without trying to look like she was avoiding eye contact. She walked over to a wooden bench to grab her water… bending over.

THUD. RATTLE. SNAP. WHOOSH. SMASH.

Lute stood frozen, the mirror wall next to her practically steaming from the impact crater caused by the now detached punching bag. She tilted her head ever so slightly to see Violet still in her follow-through, blushing profusely.

I HAD TO SAVE HER , HOW IS SHE THIS STRONG?

“G-Guuh… I… uh…” Violet babbled, trying to form a coherent sentence and explanation for that monstrous display of strength. But what else could she say? That she got heated up from seeing Lute’s shorts ride up? “I…” she tried to speak again, her tongue tying knots. “B-Bag was loose! I mean… no… I…” Violet tried to think of an explanation.

“Demon power?” Lute finally asked, her voice dead calm, but her hand trembled as she brought the water bottle to her lips. While uncommon, sinners did have powers, something by design to force suffering through an imbalanced power hierarchy. Some sinners could get something lame like wall crawling or limited flight without wings, but some were unique or amassed souls through contracts to grant them stronger abilities. The weak get strong, the strong get stronger. It was an infallible proof of ‘survival of the fittest’. Exorcists, while tasked with culling the population, also had to adhere to a few strict guidelines during delves; No Overlords because they were dangerous even without wielding holy weapons, no Hellborn as part of the uneasy treaty which by all accounts was null because of Lute killing Dazzle, and above all else absolutely no fraternizing with demons. Hellborn or otherwise.

Violet’s strength was already setting off several Overlord alarms.

“Y-Yeah that! I can stockpile force!”

“Force is an understatement…”

Violet violently nodded, pointing to her foot. “Uh-huh! Uh-huh! I stubbed my toe gettin’ out of bed earlier and… yeah. Guess I still felt it…. Sorry ‘bout the sandbag if you still needed it…”

“No…no… It’s fine! Really!” Lute looked over at the thing, it still had Lute’s footprint, and just below the heel of it was a fist indent that went a few inches deep. What she wouldn’t give to have strength like that during that one time…  “Maybe some cardio?” she offered, instantly mentally kicking herself, that wasn’t going to help with the leotard issue! But why was this pint-size giving her that awkward gravity defying feeling in her belly? She had seen Vaggie and even Charlie in their workout outfits, hell, she was up close and personal with Vaggie more often than not during sparring. So why? Why was Violet making her feel that way? She never felt this way even around Adam.

And she practically worshipped the guy.

Before she could come to a eureka moment about her not-so-subtle coming to terms that she might be attracted to Violet, the short woman practically yanked her out of it figuratively and literally towards the treadmills by the hand. “Time’s a wastin’!”

And now this is happening…

As they walked, Lute could see Adam repeatedly passing her vision out of the corner of her eye, miming holding a pair of melons and bouncing them with a sly grin. Was he mocking her or encouraging her? She couldn’t tell, but the fact that her hallucinations decided to manifest as whatever this roasting session is over outward hostility was a slight welcome change of pace. Steadying her breathing, Adam dissipated just as he was about to mime scissors clashing.

Charming.

They settled into a pair of treadmills, one regular size for demon standards, one affectionately regarded as ‘Imp-sized’. Lute tried to ignore Violet when she set the machine to a high running speed, by God, she tried. She turned up her own speed to distract herself, noticing Violet doing the same. Soon, both were running at Olympic sprint speed, trying to ignore one another but failing, both assuming the other was being competitive while in reality they were trying to keep their minds off each other. It was a scene straight out of a comedy routine where one would try to outdo the other.

Charlie, unseen this whole time, doing her usual calisthenics routine watched the spectacle with vivid concern, leaning down to whisper urgently to Razzle, “Get the IV drips…”

A sudden skidding squeal and gust of wind filled the room, the treadmills unoccupied and running at maximum speed. Lute and Violet were halfway across the gym, barely saved by the ropes of the sparring ring, which tangled them after getting violently launched. They were fine, though dazed and unaware of what had just happened.

“Make that IV drips and some ice,” the princess added. “Lots of ice…” She cringed, not even wanting to imagine the cramps those two will be getting later.

Fuse stretched, tossing down her hand of cards. “Straight Flush,” she yawned.

She and a few of her fellow Exorcists surrounded a table, passing the time with poker with a few of her battle-sisters. Their main base of operations being the old barracks just on the edge of Heaven’s cloud, all inside a large tent resembling a military outpost with bed-frames and the like. Lute’s old shed home outside was defaced with graffiti and various gashes to the wood from weapons, though they did tear the place apart inside for anything valuable. Though what Fuse wanted wasn’t there, and put in her in a foul mood after failing to find it in that other place.

“Fuck…” one Exorcist groaned, her double X’d mask blinking in frustration as she tossed her losing hand, the other four did the same, except for Cleet who threw down her hand.

“Royal Flush.”

“Hm, I see you’re getting better at counting cards.” Fuse flicked her cards to the middle of the table.

“‘Course I’m gettin’ better, I used to deal ‘em. Jus’ rusty.” Cleet gathered the cards and began shuffling, her aviators still perched upon the bridge of her nose. Even when a few peeked through the reflection to see her hand during the game she would always outsmart them, sometimes never even looking at her hand and relying on instinct. “So, what’s the plan, boss? We both know that spider done told the High Seraphim by now, and with Michael around it ain’t gonna be long before they investigate us after the trial is done.”

“Well, we need to make a few pit stops down below anyway. A few favors to cash in from the wretched scum before doing them in to cover our tracks.”

“Wait, so we’re gonna be settin’ up camp in Hell?” The large woman leaned forward, cracking her knuckles. “I hope ya got a good reason…”

Fuse picked up a stray card on the table, the Ace of Hearts, and twirled it between her fingers. “Only the biggest score to prove ourselves to Adam. Besides finishing the job with Lute, of course. Does the name Cain ring a bell?”

The tent went silent.

She continued, “The First Murderer, the first true Sinner. Lilith and Eve only had to eat an apple and become seduced by the devil to become damned, but he earned his place in Hell first. We take him out, we cement ourselves in eternity.”

“I thought Abel forgave him?” one Exorcist spoke up, “Wouldn’t that, iunno, go against what Heaven would want? Or Abel for the matter?”

“It’s not against what I want!” Fuse snarled, her hair lighting up in a blaze, “I want to make Adam proud!” She kicked herself away from the table, briefly hovering in the air to glare down at her mouthy subordinate. “He gave us this way of life! And the only way to repay it and honor his memory is to go to Hell, fuck up Lute, and kill Cain! And I won’t let that glorified fucking pidgeon covered in eyes or that bed-wetting twerp tell me otherwise!” Fuse summoned her trident to her side with a thought, holding it with a fist of flames. “Any further objections?” she hissed, smoke pouring out of the corners of her mouth.

Everyone but Cleet shook their heads, terrified. The flames of the blazing angel died down, leaving just her long ponytail burning. She tossed the card, unburnt, to the middle of the table.

“We move out tonight, then lie low to take action when the time is right.”

Chapter Text

“What were you two thinking…?” Charlie whined, worriedly inspecting Lute and Violet, “You can’t push yourselves like this, especially you, Lu—Loop…”

“Is it because I’m an amputee?” Lute snapped sarcastically, her temper shortened from excessive dehydration and a full-bodied cramp. “I’ll be fine, ‘mom’.”

“Not gonna lie, gettin’ launched like bullet was fun!” Violet giggled, wincing. “Ow…”

They were both seated next to each other in the parlor, an IV drip connected to their arms while lying on an antimacassar of ice. Charlie was running between their infusion stands to make sure the hydrating injections were going through right, silently scolding them.

“And I thought my training routines were hardcore,” Vaggie commented, eating from a bowl of popcorn. “Max settings on the treadmill?”

“What was your record?” Lute asked, smirking.

The other angel exhaled sharply through her nose in a stifled laugh. “Nowhere near that. Though for Violet it’s even more impressive because of how short she is. She has to expend twice as much energy to cover the same distance and speed. So… by that logic, she beat you.” Her smirk now matched Lute’s, but then slightly deflates when she saw her not even look offended.

“I know, she’s great isn’t she?” Lute whispered quietly to herself, her smirk.

“Not too bad yourself for missing an arm,” Violet whispered.

“Hm?”

“N-Nothin’! Hey, uh, maybe we should find something to do that ain’t all physical-like… I got a spare gaming laptop I can lend out to you, make an account for you and gift ya some games.”

“Oh! That’s a great idea!” Charlie clapped her hands.

“Won’t that encourage negative shut-in behaviour, thought?” Vaggie asked, crossing her arms. “The bar is one thing, but this is a little riskier with Vox’s network.”

Violet gasped, slightly offended. “Do I look like a shut-in to you? Also, I’m more than a pretty face! I know my way ‘round network security.”

“Yeah, Vaggie, how mean,” Lute teased, pronouncing her rival’s name correctly, which caused Vaggie to short-circuit mentally.

“Hard g—wait— no you said it correctly… fuck…!”

Lute flexed her arm, then her leg muscles. The cramping subsided slightly, now only a dull ache through her whole body. Nothing she isn’t used to. She slowly heaved herself off the couch, leaving the melted ice bags behind, gripping onto the IV stand for support. Now on her feet, she gave her neck a few relieving cracks by tilting her head side to side, exhaling with relief. She was recovered by her standards, at least without dizziness or sharp stinging pain. Her nub of a left arm instinctively reached for her IV needle, pausing awkwardly. She looked over to Charlie, silently holding her arm out. It took a few seconds, but the princess got the message and began pulling off the medical tape, then pulling the needle out as carefully as possible.

A small bead of blood formed on the entry point, glistening like gold. Before Violet could see, Lute panicked and feigned stretching her arm by bending her elbow, touching her shoulder. Charlie and Vaggie held their breath in that moment, almost forgetting that Lute, while fallen, was still an angel. It was a miracle she didn’t bleed from the incident at the gym.

Violet looked between them, shrugging. “Alright, I should prolly get the lappy all set up, hope ya like Yu-Gi-Oh!” She huffed a little, sliding off the couch and tugging out the needle without even flinching, trotting off.

Charlie watched the small woman leave the room with a nervous expression, pursing her lips as if feeling the pain of those cramps. “Huh, she’s tough, I’d be curled up on the bed all day if I went through that, and she’s walking it off like a—”

“Stubbed toe?” Lute interrupted. “She told me her demon power is stockpiling force… and the sandbag decorating the wall was from her stubbing her toe then getting ‘distracted’.”

Vaggie snorted. “Think we can get her to javelin toss Alastor with that much?”

Violet skipped through the halls en route to her room with a joyous spring in her steps. She never thought she would find a player two, especially not with someone like Lute. In the short time she had known the angel, they had grown quite close. Even getting injured together on her first day in the hotel, which was a massive step up from just video chatting. Violet approached her room’s door, checking for her room key she kept on a lanyard hidden between her cleavage.

Not there. The lanyard was devoid of her entry method.

“Fuuuuck…” she groaned, checking the keyhole. Nope, not there either. It must have flown off during the little impromptu medieval warfare catapult impression. She weighed her options; go down and look for it after the long walk while still in a tight-fitting leotard she REALLY wanted to exchange for a comfy pair of pajamas? Or wait for Lute?

As she turned to face away from her door she yelped, leaping back against it upon seeing Alastor looming over her, his smile closed but no-less wide. “Looking for this, my dear?” he crooned, dangling an ornately-shaped key. His other hand was holding up the broken mask piece to his eye. “It’s quite dangerous to leave your room key unattended. Do be more careful next time.”

Violet gulped, taking the key with a shaky hand. Up close in person Alastor was terrifying. Behind that voice and happy-go-lucky attitude was the calculating mind of a predator seeking souls through deals. It was a rule that everyone but a select few ever followed amongst sinners who had been in Hell for more than a year; Never deal with the Radio Demon.

The fact that it had to be a warning at all in its own right had unimaginable implications of how he would get people down to their lowest point, then snatch them up to safety by puppet strings or a noose.

She was shaking, frightened. “Th-Thank you…” she barely murmured. He seemed to be studying her, with that odd piece with an X over it, she covered herself as best she can with her arms, crouching low. “Oy…! Tryna catch a peep?!”

“Hm?” Alastor stopped looking, then laughed, waving off her concerns. “Oh-hoh-oh! Not at all, just enjoying a different view, from a new point of reference. Did you know that the magnifying glass has a history longer than its written evidence?”

“No— I did not— no.”

He tucked away the piece into a pocket on his coat, patting it down.

“Some found as old as the Archaic Greek period, old indeed, but with such marvelous visual clarity. Able to scry so many secrets.” Alastor's grin opened up, baring his teeth.

Violet gulped, trembling even more visibly. The sound of wood creaking and clattering filled the air, layered upon the already existing static and whine of tuning growing. He slowly reached down, to her, his hand may as well have been the moon itself descending. She closed her eyes, preparing for whatever he had in mind.

She felt her head being patted condescendingly, as if she were a petulant child in need of some arms-length comfort. “Try not to keep those secrets for too long,” he warned. I’d imagine it would be painful for your new friend to be… out of the loop.”

“What are you—” Before she could finish, he already started walking away to an unheard jaunty tune. “OY! Don’t fuckin’ scare me like that then walk off!” she screeched, stomping her foot.

“Try to avoid stomping barefoot on the carpets, my dear, Niffty just had this hall vacuumed!” Alastor chuckled without turning his head to meet her gaze.

The little gremlin herself poked her head out from the corner, her eye locked with Violet’s, and pointed to her neck. “Jingle jangle!”

A shiver was sent right up Violet’s spine. She hurriedly opened her door and slammed it shut, pressing against it as if she was expecting it to burst in at any moment.

“They know…” she panted. “They know…!”

“Violet? You okay?” Lute’s voice called out from behind the door. “I saw Alastor on the way up and… I’m worried that asshole probably scared you. He scares the shit out of me too.”

Violet sighed with relief, just glad to hear someone friendly. “I’m fine, just gonna pop into the shower and prep your laptop!”

“Yeah, same, I fucking reek…”

“If you want, join me for one of my streams too. We could order room service for dinner— making sure it’s Husk delivering the meal this time…”

Lute silently considered the invitation. Wait, was Violet asking her out for a girls night in? She fist-pumped, keeping her tone aloof as she replied. “Sure, just knock on my door when you need me.” Lute felt tingly all over, barely able to contain her excitement. It was foreign, it was new. She loved it. It was like she was catching up on the afterlife she missed out on, the afterlife she once devoted to genocide. And the life she lost to the unredeemable.

Violet fist-pumped on the other side of the door.

Lute entered her room, removing the mouthpiece, and looked at herself in the body-length mirror in her still-ajar closet. She stifled a gasp seeing her golden blush, no matter how much she would deny it the proof was there; she had a crush. And it was a female sinner. She recalled when she mentioned that Charlie and Vaggie being in a relationship was blasphemous, oh how the tables have turned.

“You fucking hypocrite,” Lute quietley chuckled at herself, unable to stop smiling while she strolled into the bathroom.

Stripping down she entered the shower cubicle and turned the knobs, hissing from the cold water hitting her body, she quickly fumbled for the knob again to get it to the right temperature. The cold was a mixed bag for her, she loved the cool breeze, but when it came to the scars on her back, she would much rather feel the warmth, almost making her forget the lack of wings. The halo, and the arm, those she could do without; she deserved to lose those. But losing her wings, after getting humiliated and treated like a piece of meat.

It was unfair, demeaning, done for the sadistic shits and giggles of those she once held in regard. They besmirched her, the uniform, and her virginity.

She almost lost her temper, crushing the shampoo bottle in her hand. “Happy thoughts… think of something nice, like the doctor said. Charlie’s hospitality… Angel and Cherri helping me find Violet… Violet’s smile… her voice…”

With a deep breath, she calmly placed the shampoo bottle’s crumpled remains on a metal hanging bathing products shelf, rubbing the mess into her hair to lather it up.

“Better…”

While the angel lathered her hair, she peeked at the mirror just outside the cubicle. She hadn’t cut her hair in a while now, her bob cut was getting longer and harder to maintain by that point. The punk disguise did her justice at least with the longer hair, but for tonight she threw caution the wind. Making up her mind she decided to just let her hair flow naturally after a quick blow-dry with just the side-swept bangs.

She rinsed herself off, combing out the rest of the lather and with some minor difficulty put on an exfoliating glove to begin the process of body washing.

Usually Lute wouldn’t put this much effort into a simple shower, but for Violet? She would try to look her best, especially for a livestream.

Meanwhile, Violet was taking the same precautions, she was putting in the work to make herself look her best, not just for her livestream but for Lute. The small sinner styled her signature mohawk in front of a mirror, barely seeing herself in the reflection and requiring a stepping stool. While she was combing it upwards, she found herself idly pressing the forefinger of her free hand against the mirror. She scowled, practically wrenching it away and sighing. “We both know it even though we never said it was… but this is a date… I gotta be me. She likes the me me… right?” 

Half an hour later…

Lute was sitting on her bed, twiddling her thumb with the phantom remnant of her missing one, wearing her pajamas. A black t-shirt and black stretch pants both bearing a pattern of candles. She eyed the door, expecting that knock any moment now. To keep herself distracted, she spent the time reapplying black nail polish. The toes were easy, but her fingernails? With practice, Lute was able to use her mouth, lots of messy practice… that reading table looked like it got pimp-slapped by a miniature tar monster.

Niffty wasn’t going to like her room service routine getting nail polish out of whatever kind of wood that was, she knows that much.

Lute flopped back, covering her face and kicking at the air. The anticipation was killing her! It was making her act like a lovesick teen waiting for a phone call. Like from one of Charlie’s movie nights. Worst yet, she enjoyed it!

I’m a warrior! For fucks sakes! I’m a warrior!

“You’re right, you’re a warrior,” Lute’s voice replied. “So why even entertain this sinner? She’ll hurt you eventually.”

She won’t…

“Are you sure? You seem to be so fucking stupid that you didn’t even notice the note on the table next to the mask you tore apart for that kitty grin.”

Sure enough, there was a note left on her desk. Where did it even come from? Lute rolled out of bed and checked it, beneath it was another piece of her mask, the X eyepiece. She read the note aloud. “An old perspective for new experiences. -Alastor.”

Lute scoffed, crushing the note. The host had the audacity to enter without permission while she was showering. She was going to have words with Charlie about this…

Before she could act on her moment of rage, the door shook with a few light knocks. “Loop! I hope you’re ready!”

“Uh…! Coming!” Lute ran to the door, stopping to look back at her eyepiece. Couldn’t let this be seen. She tucked it away in the pocket of her pants and opened the door.

Violet was standing there, swaying back and forth eagerly. Her pajamas were a Punisher icon t-shirt and cerise shorts. An unapologetic geek. Lute can respect that. She grabbed the angel’s hand and tugged her to her open room. “C’mon!” she giggled.

Her room looked lived in, the bed and reading table were still the same. Everything else had shelves upon shelves of memorabilia such as collector’s edition statues from what Lute can describe as various games. A glass cabinet full of framed cards inside plastic protectors, a model of the artwork depicting the creatures inside, and a few model kits of robots as well. The pride and joy of this comic shop of a hotel room was a humming gaming computer, the black rectangle tucked snugly under a table in the corner near a window, the screen was displaying a stylized jagged circle screensaver pulsing to a soothing club beat. Her television was even hooked up the damn thing for Lute could see the gameplay in high resolution.

“Sorry… it’s a bit… me.”

“No no! I like it, it is you,” Lute reassured, taking the time to appreciate the decor. Seeing a sword— a whole fucking sword— mounted on the wall, the plaque beneath in silver naming it ‘Rebellion’. “You… how do you get all this? This is human world stuff.”

“Connections,” Violet quickly answered, “Careful, that thing may look like a collector’s item, but it’s sharp and heavy.” She hopped up onto her chair, being so short she just sat cross-legged in it comfortably and began setting up her station, the keyboard clacking satisfyingly with ripples of RGB light pulsing with every keystroke. “Ready to join my stream?”

“Fuck it, why not?”

The television mirrored her monitor, her software flashing in rapid succession once she hit a pre-programmed stream start sequence input. Violet waved to her camera. “Good evenin’! Violent Violet here! Sorry ‘bout the bit of radio silence, I moved somewhere new, met a new friend who’s also living here. Say hi, to the camera~!” She tilted her webcam to Lute, who waved nervously, beads of sweat forming on her forehead when she caught a glimpse of the follower count rapidly rising into the hundreds. “She’s gonna be my player two!”

The chat erupted in a barrage of emojis, most of them the meme of who doodles kissing violently.

“So, Loop, you up for some Destiny 2?”

“Uh… you sure I can? It’s a shooter, one arm, remember?” She held up her stump.

‘Do it, pussy!’

‘Goth kitty mommy!’

‘[User has been moderated]’

“It’s no worry, we can do somethin’ like me on keyboard and you on mouse. Should make for some laughs!”

She launched the game, the title screen fading in with an ominous drone. Violet pressed Enter, selected her character, and hovered over the game’s PvP menu, The Crucible. Lute sat nearby with a bottle of water and watched to see how the game worked. Standard FPS fare: aim, shoot, kill. Though the game had special skills and item combos that made matchmaking unique, Violet was what was called a Titan. Tank-like class focused on getting up close and personal, especially when running a build revolving around the Arc element, which had an ultimate called Thundercrash. Lute had caught a few Destiny 2 streams, marvelling at how her friend dominated the competition by playing like her online name describes. Violent.   


An opponent revealed themselves from cover, getting domed by a shot from a scout rifle. Almost instantly a message appeared in the in-game chat.

SteveyLats: What's the matter, girls? AsmoFans cash is running thin so you're thirst streaming?

“Ew… streamsniper,” Violet muttered, squinting in disgust. “I don’t have an AsmoFans, neither does Loop.” She leaned in to whisper to her webcam. “I checked…”

Lute tilted her head, not sure what AsmoFans even was. “You what…?”

“Nothing!” the short sinner gulped.

SteveyLats: Hey Violet, is that a pile of snow with a Scooby Doo mask next to you?

“Casual racism, Hell is Hell,” Lute snorted, finding amusement in the antics..

“Hell is Hell,” Violet parroted, her character punching Stevey’s with an explosion of thunder, folding the ragdolled corpse like laundry. Her chat was laughing at the asshole’s expense. “Hey Loop? Wanna see somethin’ funny?”

Without waiting for an answer Violet peppered Stevey with a barrage of bullets from a machine gun, his corpse flopping forward in a failed attempt to shotgun her. Just now her pinky creeped closer to the CTRL button, and mashed it furiously. Her character began teabagging the corpse. “Enjoy it! This is the closest you’re gonna get to any woman’s arse!”

SteveyLats: I’ve fucked your mother more than you spam that crouch, bitch!”

Lute snorted again, laughing a little, then full-blown cackling when Violet did it again. And again, and again. Stevey’s playstyle became sloppier by the moment until his K/D ratio ended up looking like a failing test score. She felt her hand get grasped by Violet, and she froze, blushing deeply while her hand was guided over to the mouse.

“Right mouse to aim, left to shoot,” Violet gently reminded.

Lute shook off the paralysing apprehension and stared at the screen while Violet expertly guided the character with the WASD keys. Stevey was in her line of sight, running at her with reckless abandon and a shotgun ready. “Ok… so I just hold it to aim and— oh. I think I got him.”

In a miracle of luck and the stars aligning, she blasted him as he leapt at her from the other side of a pit. The body slammed against the edge and unceremoniously slid off into the abyss below. The chat was going crazy, spamming black heart emojis in favor of Lute and her first kill.

SteveyLats: Not bad for a one-armed inbred and teddy bear with fake tits.

“Mate…” Violet sighed, “You’ve gone 0-15 while using a meta loadout, you’ve got bigger issues to worry ‘bout more than my tits or friend’s arm.” Her gaze narrowed. “And just for insulting her like that, I’m gonna beat you using only the base kit.”

Lute held her breath. Was she…defending her honor?

She watched Violet swap her gear into the lowest level gear in the game, the stuff one would get as part of the tutorial zone. Needless to say, she kept her word. Chat spamming cheers, subscriptions, and messages all in support of this act. Less out of altruism, mostly because they get to watch someone suffer through sheer unbridled schadenfreude. The yellow bar at the bottom left of her screen ticked up slowly, then maxed out with yellow text in the middle.

Super charged.

“THUNDERCRASH MOTHERFUCKAAAAAAAAA!” Violer roared victoriously, her grin wide. With a single button press, she sent her character rocketing in a coat of thunder and lightning, arcing perfectly through the air like a comet. She made contact, the shockwave discharging all the energy from that powerful tackle and ending the match. “Oooh—oooh! Get fucked! Oooh—oooh!” She cheered, dancing in her seat.

It took every ounce of willpower for Lute to not join in and just hug the shorty. She was still feeling a little camera-shy.

Hours passed, and Violet was still gaming even past her stream had ended, using the television as a monitor for some single-player controller-focused games. The bed was far more comfortable to sit on after all. Lute took great joy in just watching her play, enraptured by her skill and finesse. A pair of metal trays and empty plates was settled neatly on the reading table, the girls having enjoyed a dinner of hamburgers and fries during a quick break. Lute yawned a little, her eyes feeling heavy from the shenanigans at the gym and the excitement of being there in person for a stream with a friend she had a not-so-subtle crush on.

Violet shuddered, feeling a weight on her shoulder. The angel had passed out, leaning against her. She couldn’t stop herself from shaking, a wooden rattling noise emanating from her body. “Oh shit… oh shit…” she muttered, trying not to disturb Lute.

She laid Lute out on the bed, unsure of what she should do in this situation. Tuck her in? Call for help in getting Lute back to her room? Carry her herself? Having a guest like this was foreign, and she didn’t want to fuck this up. With trembling hands Violet pulled the bed covers from the edge over on the sleeping Lute.

“There…all nice and tucked in…” Violet whispered, placing her head in her hands, running her fingers through her mohawk. “Fuck…you’re really in deep now, huh…?”

Violet took a deep breath and slid off, crawling on the ground to her closet and slowly swinging it open. It was barren save for a single coat hanger and a mini-fridge hidden inside. She opened it, a few glass bottles of a pink liquid were inside topped with a black skull cork. She snatched one and scampered to the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

She climbed her stepping stool, seeing her reflection in the mirror against a series of horizontal smudges blotting out her eyes.

“Loop likes me…Lute…likes me…the ME ME…” She popped the cork and drank it all down, crushing the bottle. Violet glared at herself until Velvette smiled back.

Chapter Text

Angel Dust stumbled into the hotel, his clothing torn, singed, and missing two of his six arms. Normally, when Valentino scheduled a snuff film Angel would just brush it off at this point and just look tired. Not this time. He looked shellshocked. The spider’s arms were slowly regenerating, visible muscle twitching and building upon itself with the bones collecting themselves from dust in the air. “Water…” he rasped, spotting Husk on a little patrol to clear his mind in the middle of the night.

“Aw fuck…” Husk’s eyes widened seeing the state of Angel, rushing over with a glass of water he was already holding for himself. “Easy, kid…” He caught Angel as he was about to slump forward, the spider grabbed the water and drank it in a few sips. “What did that asshole do to ya…?”

“He… hired… Lute…”

“...Huh?”

“Well— it was Lute but… not really?” Angel struggled to recall. “Same outfit, same voice and face beneath the fucking mask… I dunno how but I think Vox made a copy. Or hired some bimbo to look like her.” He shuddered. “She was a total one-to-one of Lute before comin’ here…! Val called it a ‘test run’ for some new product line.”

“That son of a bitch,” Husk growled, wrapping one of Angel’s good pair of arms over his shoulder to help him walk. “Charlie’s bouta turn in for the night, we can tell her when she wakes up. How about I mix up one of your favorites?” He found his paw straying to Angel’s cheek, gently clutching it to comfort him. Husk pulled his hand away, feigning a cough much to Angel’s weak smile. “Frozen Sex on the Beach, right?”

“Shouldn’t we wake her now, though? If he got Lute down to a T we might have a— whatchacallit— security issue?”

“That’s the bossman’s department, I just serve the drinks. But I’m sure he knows by now, he’s just too busy enjoyin’ the fuckin’ show like the prick he is…” Husk’s statement was confirmed by a passing fizzle of radio static, the fur on the scruff of his neck standing on end. He shook off that familiar yet terrifying feeling. “So… Lute and Violet might have hooked up,” he chuckled, trying to make some small talk.

“No shit? Bobcut and mohawk?” Angel looked less surprised than his tone implied. “Ain’t it too soon to tell? This is her first night here, and Lute don’t look like the kinda broad to just fuck anyone.”

“I went to pick up their trays, found Lute sleepin’ in Violet’s bed separated by a line of pillows.”

Husk adjusted his shoulder, getting Angel to the bar and sat him down, placing his personal pillow from the futon beneath the counter onto it so Angel could lean down comfortably. He began mixing up the drink, the calming noise of clinking bottles and liquid being poured filling the silence. Finally, he placed down a tall glass, a dollop of frozen cream with a cherry on top.

Unlike other alcohols, Angel savored the taste of the mixers, sipping slowly and licking off the cream stuck to his lips. Husk certainly knew his shit when it came to the beverages that pleased his customers the most, he still had yet to find one for Lute, and now Violet for that matter. It couldn’t hurt to ask tomorrow. He was almost tempted to make a drink and name it Angel Shot, but it would have gotten too confusing, especially since it’s a well-known term for silently calling for help.

Usually sinner bartenders couldn’t give less of a shit about an Angel Shot. But he did.

He had standards.

“Didja take a picture of ‘em?” Angel asked curiously, as if eager to have something to lord over Lute for some fun.

Husk gave a knowing smirk, waving his phone. “All in the groupchat, baby.”

Then again, standards were a matter of perspective.

 

Lilith yawned, lounging on a therapist’s chaise. The Minos Test. A name that should incite more fear was nothing more than a psych evaluation screening done over and over again. The monotony was part of the tactic, any inconsistencies would be brushed through with a fine-toothed comb until everything was all sorted. Uriel and Sera stood close by, being part of the prosecution and defense. It was only fair that they both witnessed the results for clarity and interpretation.

“I was angry that my dear Luci was kicked out of Heaven for his ideas, and for what he did giving free will to humanity,” Lilith spoke to an axolotl-looking angel clad in a sweater and khaki pants, his hair woven with colorful feathers and his gills just as colorful. He was reading through the transcript of the previous screenings. “He never got to see the best of them, only the worst, which I tried to gift to him through my songs. I wanted to make Hell better.”

“So your goals were born purely out of altruism?” the angel spoke, adjusting his sweater slightly.

“Yes and no. I did want a better place for the souls not worthy of Heaven, but also for myself.” She shot him a look. “You try waking up to despairing screams every morning…”

“Point taken. What are your intentions upon returning to your domain as queen?”

“Reestablish the Morningstar name as part of Hell’s hierarchy, and intense reforms to the Hellborn justice system—screw you, Satan—,” Lilith coughed, her not so sublte jab at the current law of Hell was also part of her repeated answer through several sessions. “Other than that, I want to support my little Charlotte in her endeavour to redeem souls. Is that sufficient, Mr…Amoxtli?”

Amoxtli nodded, smiling warmly and turning to address the High Seraphim and Archangel of Truth. “Her transcripts are all consistent, Mrs. Morningstar is without a shadow of a doubt sound of mind.”

Sera breathed a sigh of relief, “Thank you…”

Uriel nodded, accepting the results. “I suppose that settles it, if Michael can accept these results as evidence the court will rule in her favor.”

“Aren’t you still my prosecutor?” Lilith joked.

“And? My duty is to Heaven and truth. And speaking of truth…” He turned his head to glare up at Sera, hands behind his back. “Don’t think I didn’t overhear the talk about the whereabouts of Lute. While it was noble to keep the court case consistent, this is a far greater emergency. Pardon my language, but what the fuck were you thinking?”

Amoxtli gathered his documents, making a quick retreat from the room. Whatever this was, he didn’t want part of it. “I’ll post the results to Sir Michael!” he jabbered, running out.”

Uriel continued, “I did a bit of research on this Fuse character. She doesn’t exist according to any known record. The more I dug deep, the more concerning this has become.”

“I…she doesn’t exist…?” Sera gasped, unable to even process how a gap this large in information had slipped by her. She had met Fuse, seen her practically worship Adam like a father figure. “This doesn’t make sense. I’ve met her, you’ve met her. How is it you never picked up on this either in all these centuries?”

“With the amount of these bloodthirsty pigeons he had corralling with him, how am I to know who is who when they all look alike? He even names them. Lute however was glued to his side 24/7. Fuse is the only one unregistered.” Uriel then faced Lilith who was standing up and dusting off the creases in her dress. “If Fuse is as unhinged as your friends up here imply, then we may need to implement severe measures.”

His phone rang. Rather bothered by this interruption, he pulled the phone out his pocket to see who it was. Abel. He answered with a roll of his eyes, before he could speak Abel’s frantic voice roared from the speaker loud enough to be heard by those present in the room.

“IT’S GONE!”

Uriel squinted, annoyed at the vagueness of the cry for help. “What’s gone?” he hissed, putting the phone on speaker and lowering the volume.

“The Behemoth, it’s gone!” Abel’s voice cried out.

Sera’s blood ran cold, her legs quivering like jelly.

Lilith looked just as shocked, but at the same time furious as her horns grew to full size and eyes blazing red. She approached Sera with an upwardly accusatory finger. “Unglaublich! Was denken Sie sich dabei?! You didn’t destroy it?!”

The Behemoth, a weapon designed by the most sadistic minds dedicated to Adam’s crusade against sinners. A titan so feared amongst the higher echelons that it was demanded that it be dismantled upon its first test by Michael himself. This relic of a war that never came to pass was housed in the deepest of vaults, only accessible by Seraphim and those of Adam’s lineage.

It is now missing and presumably in the hands of a crazed zealot.

“W-We tried to…” Sera whispered, a hand to her mouth as tears started flowing. “It was indestructible…every time we took it apart, it reconstituted itself…we had to seal it in separate pieces.”

“She’s right, Mrs. Morningstar,” Uriel coldly stated, “Michael’s sword struck the creation with all its might, not even a mark. It was made using the very tree you ate that apple from. The Elders refused to take action and leave it as a warning after its first test run. Sometimes I doubt their mental state…”

“The Flood,” Sera’s voice cracked.

“Well, what now?” Lilith snapped. “We can’t sit back and do nothing!”

“This has to be kept from the general populace,” the Archangel of Truth interjected, earning a scowl from the queen. “Would you rather a mass panic that Heaven’s greatest weapon is missing?”

Lilith clicked her tongue, biting her finger in frustration. “Will my daughter be safe?”

“Play it cool, we get through the trial as planned, and we address this with the council right after. These vandals can’t operate The Behemoth at maximum capacity anyway, one piece was left with Adam as an activation key.”

“I was wondering why you’re so fucking calm about this, Uriel…” Lilith glowered, finally enticing a modicum of unease from Uriel. “And where is this so-called ‘activation key’?

Abel’s voice piped up on the phone, coming off mute, having not hung up or been hung up on this whole time. In the background were Molly and February chastising him and Sera in Italian for keeping something this big a secret. “Uh… father kinda locked it away and hid it. Only Lute knows where it is since he’s… y’know, dead. O-Ow! I get it! Stop pinching my cheek! No–No! Pentious not the tail—”

Uriel ended the call, his wings ablaze and halo crackling.

So not only was the weapon missing, but its activation key location was left in the hands of a fallen angel who Fuse has a vendetta against. Uriel took a deep breath, trying to find the right words for this situation.

“... FUCK …”

In the vast outskirts of Pentagram City, The Wastes, once rendered inhospitable to most forms of life aside from local Hell fauna that by some unholy miracle survived. It was no secret The Wastes were caused by Adam’s crusades to keep the population of sinners low.

Fuse watched a pot boil, amusement in her gaze as a Pit Crab struggled to escape the water, succumbing to its fate. Her amusement gave way to frustration. She had planned everything meticulously, and yet she had hit a delay, putting her plans to a screeching halt. The weapon she had managed to snag from right under the noses of the upper echelon’s vaults lay in separate stone seals resembling coffins, shuddering with barely restrained glee to recombine from being in such close proximity.

Cleet’s thundering footsteps approached. She seated herself next to her leader and threw in another live Pit Crab. The creature tried to climb out using the ladle as a ladder, but was pulled in by the reflex of its barely living kin from below the bubbling depths.

“Hm…” Cleet exhaled through her nose. “Ever had crab before?”

“Can’t say I have with this species,” Fuse replied indifferently, stirring the pot. “It’s gonna taste like shit, but we can’t afford the luxury of spices now.”

“Ain’t that the truth.”

They sat in relative silence, surrounded by the drowned-out chatter of the other Exorcists. Fuse knew what Cleet was going to ask, but she knew better than to do so. The answer was obvious anyway. “We keep laying low,” Fuse answered the unspoken question, “Don disguises if we have to until we get our hands on the final piece. Overlords and the Morningstar brat are too high a risk to contend with in our lack of numbers, especially with one Overlord supplying Angelic Steel.

“Ok… next question.”

“Shoot.”

“What is The Behemoth anyway? A gun?” In all this time, none of them knew what The Behemoth looked like, except for Fuse. The way she planned this heist out was like she knew firsthand of its capabilities. In its brief active existence, it went by many names. But one name in particular rang true. It's birthname.

“The Horsemen.”

“Ok, now you’re fuckin’ with me,” Cleet chuckled, her uneasy smile dropping when she saw Fuse not even blink or deviate from her task of cooking a snack. “You’re serious?”

“What else would you call something that fulfills its purpose? A war upon sinners, a conquest upon sinners, a famine amongst sinners, death to sinners.”

“...That don’t exactly tell me what it looks like…”

Fuse smirked, her eyes darted to meet her subordinate’s. “In due time.” She reached into the boiling water with her bare hand, pulling out a cooked Pit Crab without even feeling the burn. She took hold of a claw and tore it off, pinching the broadest point until the shell cracked to reveal the flesh inside. Fuse popped the meat into her mouth, chewing. Her enjoyment of the meal was cut short with a visceral gag, forcing a swallow. “Alright, fuck this! Who’s got butter?! I know one of you skanks smuggled some out!”

Chapter Text

Lute stretched, sitting up. She tiredly scanned the room, expecting to be back in her own. It took a few moments to register that she had been sleeping in Violet’s bed, the small sinner still asleep and cuddled up to a cushion separating them. A deep blush covered her face.

“Did we just share a bed…?” she whispered quietly, checking to see if her mouthpiece was still on. Yup, it was. Her horns were slightly askew, she quickly corrected that before Violet even showed signs of waking up.

The angel sat there in silence, watching Violet sleep, then the alarm clock on the bedside table, it was almost noon. Not a single night terror plagued her that night, just out like a light and… wait no she did have a dream. As she recalled the vague details from memory, she pictured herself and Violet cuddling which then lead to what she could describe as a honeymoon-level bed-shaking.

It was almost tempting to recreate the cuddling part of that dream right here and now, to later pass it off as ‘moving in her sleep’.

Lute shook her head.

Nuh-uh! Bad Lute! Bad! She trusted you to not be a fucking creep!

She looked down, tugging the stretchy band of her pants to inspect the front of her underwear.

…Laundry time…

Lute shifted slightly, wincing at a sudden sharp pain in her hip. She dug into her pocket and pulled out the mask piece that Alastor put in her room. Right, she had forgotten she had this on her in all the fun.

Exorcist masks have several unique features besides being able to incite fear. Heaven tech was ages ahead of what the human world had, hard-light holograms, and dimensional-breaching communications. Then again, this was all impossible without the use of some holy magic in their construction, which was why Lute could eat and drink through her mouthpiece on top of it feeling like it wasn’t there to stifle her breathing. Anyone who could make such things without magic would have to be a prodigy.

Like for instance, Sir pentious. His Death Ray was made using entirely tech, and if it had gone off on Adam it would have hurt. He would have almost certainly did more damage than Alastor.

The most distinguishing feature of the mask was the eyes, which came with a special HUD. It could tell sinners and Hellborn apart, and ranked sinners on a scale of danger. The best part is it could tell who was an Overlord or run-of-the-mill bottom dweller. Full name, sins, statistics, and chains. All were visible, this is why when an Exorcist was on the hunt, they were brutally efficient and hiding was utterly useless.

“I wonder…” Lute looked down at Violet, then her mask eyepiece. She wanted to know more about her, everything to know about her. The temptation was overwhelming. The angel slowly lifted the piece and suddenly clamped her teeth around her wrist as a form of self-punishment to stop herself. She left a nasty bite mark, but no blood was drawn. “No…! I trust her… this wouldn’t be the right way. We can talk about ourselves when we’re ready…”

Before she could be tempted any further by prying into another soul’s essence she left the room, checking her phone for any new morning events planned. The first thing she saw was the group chat. There as a pinned message, front and centre, her and Violet practically cuddled up to each other using the pillows as a proxy. Everyone had already reacted to it through emojis, Alastor in a rare moment of using something other than radio or old-timey tech responding with a gif of himself laughing his ass off, though his face was covered in a glitchy mass the body language was clear. 

Lute whined, curling up and burying her head between her knees. “I’m gonna fucking kill that cat…!”

The Morningstar limo screeched to a halt at a traffic intersection, the eyeball of a red light blinking mockingly towards Razzle at the wheel. The short goat bleated with an impromptu middle finger best he can with his little hooves.

“Razzle!” Charlie scolded from the back, Razzle hid his head between his shoulders shamefully. “What do we say after doing that?”

Razzle snorted, glaring at the stoplight. He bleated out a half-hearted apology.

“Think he’s been hanging around Lute too much?” Vaggie asked, rather entertained at how Razzle was picking up some of the residents’ more noteworthy attitudes. “Then again, this feels more like Angel Dust territory.”

“I’m right here, ya know, and it certainly couldn’t have been me!” Angel dramatically placed the back of his hand to his forehead. “The audacity!”

“So… about that doppleganger?” Charlie asked, getting to the point of their little outing. “Are you sure it was exactly like Lute?”

“Like bitch Lute?” Vaggie added.

The princess rolled her eyes, shrugging. She had to agree that Lute was a bit of a bitch… okay, a major bitch before coming to the hotel. “Yeah, bitch Lute.”

“I got eight workin’ eyes, dollface, I know what I saw and I know what fucked me.” The spider pointed to his ‘freckles’. “It was fuckin’ scary!”

The light turned green after an eternity. Razzle hit the gas and took off. Everyone in the back were nearly thrown to the rear of the interior from the force of the impatient goat’s need to get as far away from that specific traffic light. As they continued their journey, the Entertainment District came into view. Charlie noticed Angel looking a little uneasy. The last time she came near the place, it ended poorly for him with Val. Good intentions or not, her presence didn’t make things any better. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to even go near that place… I’m still disinfecting my arm from that lick… I want a word with Vox. The mask you described is his handiwork.”

“No promises on my end…” the one-eyed angel snarled, her spear materializing from her wings, she menacingly patted it against her palm. She was still pissed hearing about it. “He tries anything funny, I’m skewering him.”

“Ah! Leave Val to me. I can sacrifice a day off for extra shoots to keep him off you broads. Plus, it’ll be plausible deniability on my end!” Angel adjusted his shirt, pushing up his chest fluff. He pointed to Vaggie. “‘Specially you, Fearow.”

“Fearow…?” Vaggie squinted.

“Bird with a long pointed beak that looks like a spear,” he trailed off. “Look, I  boink a lotta nerds, they make for some REALLY good pillow talk when they’re done. This one slug-lookin’ motherfucka showed me a clip of this wierd thing called uh Pokey Mans?”

“Pokémon…” Charlie quietly corrected.

“Right, right. Next thing you know I’m hooked. Then another talks about The Sopranos, gotta see if they did my line of work before overdosin’ on nose candy justice.”

A familiar face on the sidewalk blurred by, then another. Charlie did a double-take to make sure she saw that correctly, pressing her cheek against the tinted glass. It happened a third time. No mistake, it was Lute in a leather catsuit. And another in a cat maid outfit. “Razzle! Stop the car, please!”

The car rolled to a stop against the sidewalk. Vaggie and Angel gawked at the sight. Various sinners walking around had their own Lute. Charlie uncomfortably recoiled when a doppleganger walking past got spanked, and replied with a sultry yet meek, “Not so hard, daddy.”

“Get an Exorcist of your own! Fuck the angels!” Vox’s voice boomed through the whole district, all billboards displaying an ad for the newest VoxTek product line. “Introducing the finest in personal companionship, need a bad bitch? A demure slut? A bodyguard? Buy one now and customize it for an additional price! The new VoxTek brand is here to revolutionize Hell! The Lutebot! All sales are final!”

The glitzy LED billboards displayed a group of Lutebots gathered together on a bed in various states of undress and breast size, beckoning the viewer with their smug smirks on a loop. In a few smaller billboards were Velvette’s new dress line complementing the new product line, as if shamefully tucked away, taking not just a back seat but a back room to everything.

The streets were too crowded to drive further, they would have to go it on foot, much to everyone’s looming dread. No one wanted to even touch the door handle.

Mustering up all the bravery she could, Charlie’s eyes darkened to a bright crimson, her horns and tail sprouting. The princess was pissed. “Razzle… the sunroof…”

Vaggie understood the task at hand, her wings flaring as she lifted her girlfriend in a bridal carry. She signaled for Angel Dust to hold onto her shoulders with a brief nod. Razzle flipped a switch, causing the red eyes of the decor on the roof interior to merge into a single eye, the slit pupil widening to reveal the dazzling skyscrapers of the Entertainment District.

With a mighty flap, all three were airborne.

Brass clawed at her hair in a backroom. This was bad, this was really bad. Not only have the Lutebots launched ahead of schedule, but Charlie is on her way to the tower after calling in for an appointment with Vox. If this meeting goes south shit will hit the fan. She fumbled for her burner phone, trying to call someone. “C’mon…c’mon, boss, pick up…!” she begged.

Click.

“What…?” Violet’s voice whined on the other end, the camera turning on to reveal her still in bed, groggy from the late-night gaming session with Lute.

“Boss, they launched them overnight…!” Brass hissed into the microphone, “Charlie found out about Lutebot Prime through Angel Dust and is on her way!”

Violet’s disguise briefly dropped in a wave of flashing emojis, Velvette’s voice coming in clear. “Are you serious?!” She cupped her mouth. “You fuckin’ serious?”

Brass nodded frantically. She texted a view of the Entertainment District she took on her way to work, Lute Bots and sinners buying them up in swarms. Velvette’s pupils shrank, pressing her face closer to the phone. She couldn’t believe this… she thought they wouldn’t be due for another month. Vox kept her out of the loop a-fucking-gain. Worse yet, her new clothing designs were snubbed! Valentino’s newest porn flick not even related to this travesty took a side-by-side slot!

The worst of it all dawned on her… she would have to come clean to Lute of her part in all this. She betrayed Lute’s trust from the very beginning, gathering data on her from the day they met. Under duress, perhaps, but she still did it. Soon, the angel would find out, or Alastor would tell her. Velvette was screwed either way.

Velvette inhaled sharply. “Brass, you’re my number one assistant. I need you to do this for me. Get all my models and influencers out of there, discreetly. If this is going to go south— and it will— I don’t want you or them gettin’ hurt. And prepare ‘the fine print’.”

Brass composed herself, nodding, she knew better than to ask why the sudden concern of souls in her employ, but if this meant her boss was going on a better path to stick it to Vox and Valentino at long last, she would be sure to follow Velvette’s orders to the letter. “Your will be done, boss.” She reached into a pendant within the front breast pocket of her suit and clenched, her body transforming to resemble Velvette. “Should I convince them the usual way or just get them the day off?”

Velvette grinned, forcing a brave face. “Week off, shit’s gonna be messy. I’ll be there soon.” She hung up, putting her Violet voice back on. “You heard everything, didn’t you?” she asked a looming shadow in her room’s corner by the door.

Two eyes resembling ticking radio dials stared down with a wide grin that lit up with Alastor’s voice. “Mmm… Maybe,” Alastor chuckled coyly.

“Good.” Velvetted stood off her bed, still in her disguise’s short height, to strut over to the Radio Demon. “Because you’re going to help me.”

Alastor’s head tilted with a record scratch, his eyes reverting to normal. He picked at his ear as if trying to confirm if he heard that right. “Come again?”

“Did I fuckin’ stutter?”

“No? But it would have been funny for you to do so,” Alastor said. “What stake do I even have in this that you would demand my help? Without even offering a deal. Tut tut! How rude!” He condescendingly waggled his finger, shaking his head. “No, my dear, that is your grave to dig and fill.”

“You are going to help me, Bambi,” Velvette commanded, crossing her arms. “Without the Exterminations Hell’s fillin’ up with fresh degenerates by the week, do you know how many of ‘em are signing their souls away for a robotic fucktoy? I can literally feel them doing so because of that bullshit mutual contract. Vox also has Adam’s guitar, and it’s only a matter of time before he sics his new favorite creation on you with it. You’re not fit to take them on…” She eyed his radio cane, the middle of it crooked and haphazardly repaired after being split in two by Adam.

This was… almost new. Alastor being on the back end of a deal for once in years. Velvette continued.

“My deal is that if you help me nip this in the bud, I won’t let it slip about your little leash to ‘her’, pet…”  

The room instantly plunged to blackness, Alastor’s colossal shadow lunging over her with bright green stitches holding his grin. The screech of a thousand broadcasted screams filled the air, conglomerating into a chaotic, unorganized symphony. His mouth opened with a crack, black drool dripping from his chin. Velvette was unfazed, narrowing her scowl. She extended her hand.

“Deal?”

“How do you know…?” Alastor seethed, his neck stretching unnaturally past her extended hand to get right in her face to intimidate her, his eyebrows furrowed and open grin still present. “Did Husker tell you?”

“Mate, I’ve got connections and blackmail on nearly everybody in Hell. There’s a fuckin’ reason for my status. You’re not the only one able to steer information to your advantage.”

He glared into her eyes, seeking any sign of fear. There was none. This whole time, she had been speaking nothing but truth. As much as he would love to splatter her screams across the radio waves for even knowing about his little deal, he stayed his hand. Alastor reluctantly shifted back to normal, patting off his shoulder.

“Very well… I must say I am impressed. I’m sure Lute would love to see that side of you,” he commended, venom in his tone. “But I’m sure she already has with you feeding her lies. A bona fide weaver of half-truths and puppeteer like yours truly!”

Velvette snapped, finally a little frazzled. “Shut it! I’m nothing like you!”

Alastor’s full grin returned, finding a nerve to pinch.

“And what would you do if she found out about you? Hmmm? The possibilities are numerous, and all entertaining.” Alastor stalked around her, tapping his cane rhythmically against the floor. “All her progress, down the drain. Why, she might even lose faith in sinners altogether with a broken heart. Or become the suicidal hot mess she was before you met.” He placed a hand on Velvette’s shoulder from behind, craning down to glare.

Velvette broke out into a cold sweat, unable to look Alastor in the eye. He had her there. Even with her leverage on him, he was able to exploit her feelings for the fallen angel. Alastor laughed heartily, stepping out in front of her still outstretched hand, which was stiff as a board.

“But I will help, if only to keep Vox from holding onto that guitar. It might look better as a trophy for Niffty anyway.” His hand glowed with a sickly green fire, extending it for her to shake. “Once this is over, you will forget about what you know about me. The rest with Lute is all on you, but you must admit everything once this is over. Your little spy routine has put the hotel at risk, and I am nothing if not a good host to ensure its safety. Even if from a guest.”

“...Deal…you pompous prick…”

Chapter Text

It was utter pandemonium down there, the stores of the Entertainment District were all selling those new Lute Bots. Not a sinner left empty-handed. A sea of degeneracy and their new vice to perpetuate it. Charlie shuddered when passing by a billboard in Vaggie’s arms. That was as close to Lute’s ass as she was willing to get without permission.

Angel Dust clung on tight to his ride’s shoulders, eying the V-Tower’s entrance rapidly closing in. “I’m gonna hop off here! I’ll keep Val busy!” he shouted through the whipping wind. “Should give ya less weight to worry ‘bout, toots!”

He saluted, releasing himself and clinging to the side of a building, scuttling down to the crowded streets like a real spider into one of the lesser crowded narrow walkways.

“Uhm… why don’t we take the entrance with him again? We called ahead…” Charlie asked.

“Too crowded, he knows we’re coming so what difference does it make?”

“It just feels kinda rude..”

Vaggie sighed. “I know, babe, but this kinda shit…?” She gestured to the plethora of TV billboards. “We’re not gonna stand for it. Lute’s suffered enough and we’re gonna shut this down.”

Charlie nodded, understanding. What her girlfriend said made perfect sense. Lute was a guest at her hotel, she became her responsibility to reform and rehabilitate and was making such stellar progress. It just wasn’t right to have her trauma monetized.

“Yeah!” 

Vaggie continued flying upwards, aiming for the highest window of the tower. She pulled Charlie in close, wrapping her wings protectively around them both and let gravity do the work. “Head down!” Vaggie exclaimed.

With a mighty crash, she shattered through the window into a room. She didn’t care which it was, so long as they were inside. They tumbled across the floor, shards of glass cutting into the angel’s wings, which healed rapidly. After a moment to make sure Charlie was unharmed, Vaggie stretched her wings and sat up, pulling her girlfriend up by the wrist to her knees. Charlie gave Vaggie a soft kiss on the lips while getting up, smirking. “You’ve always wanted to do that ever since we saw that action flick.”

“Yeah…” Vaggie giggled sheepishly, ruffling her wings to shake off any loose glass or feathers. Her expression turned serious as she surveyed the room they landed in. Cerise carpets, a bed with the same colored bedsheets complemented by a white swirl… “I think we’re in…”

The angel and princess froze when they saw two figures standing in front of them in shock.

“Velvette…?” Charlie gasped, “and… Velvette?” She squinted, seeing them side by side a little clearer. “Violet?!”

Violet gulped, waving shakily. “H-H-Hello.”

“The fuck are you doing with Velvette?!” Vaggie screamed, standing up and drawing her spear. “Don’t you know she and the Vees made this shitstorm we’re trying to fix?!”

Velvette extended her arm to protect Violet, getting in front of her.

“I’m here doin’ the same thing!” Violet cried out defensively. “I’m tryin’ to fix the mess I caused!”

“You caused?” Charlie asked, gently gesturing for Vaggie to lower her spear. “So, it was you who gave Vox the data to make these things?”

“I had no choice…” Violet mumbled, her disguise dropping until in her place stood Velvette, though still short.

“...Ok slow down, you’re Velvette?” Vaggie pointed to the taller one. “Then who’s this?”

Velvette looked to her faithful assistant, nodding to just drop the disguise. Brass cleared her throat, clutching a pendant to revert back into a succubus. Charlie’s jaw dropped seeing a Hellborn willingly be in the employ of an Overlord. “Brass Flaretongue,” she introduced herself with a short bow, “For the past few weeks I’ve been assuming Velvette’s duties while she took on the persona of Violet to get close to Lute.”

“So she can steal her data and use it to sell a fucking sex toy?” Vaggie snarled, disgusted.

“No!” Velvette protested, shrinking back. “Well… at first… but I didn’t want to… I wanted to be around Lute because I wanted to.”

“Bullshit, and quit the short look.”

“This is her natural height,” Brass corrected. “I would appreciate you not insulting my boss’s appearance…” She glowered, ready to strike if need be, Angelic Steel be damned.

Vaggie paused, her face the picture of confusion when staring down at the diminutive woman no taller than even Niffty. Charlie took the moment to lean down on one knee to talk eye-to-eye. “Why, Velvette…?” She was willing to hear her out on her reasons.

Velvette tried to stay composed. “I…” Her eyes began watering, and she tried to wipe the tears away. Her vision blurred, and her eyes stung the longer she tried to wipe away the tears. She sniffled, then sobbed. “Violet isn’t a persona… it’s the real me… not the face I put on for a fucking phone camera…” she choked out. “Lute didn’t judge me for it… she didn’t make fun of my height, she didn’t judge me for my tastes in music, or even that I spend a lot of time playing video games…”

There was that Lute progress shining through.

“She liked me for who I really am, and I like her… I love how even though she’s been through so much shit she’s still powering through. She’s strong, stronger than I could be if I went through what she did… I admire that about her…”

Vaggie opened her mouth to speak, but Charlie grasped her hand, shaking her head slowly. She looked back at the blubbering woman.

“I’m sorry… I’m so fuckin’ sorry…!”

“It’s not us you should be saying sorry to…” Charlie softly spoke, “You need to say that to Lute’s face, tell her everything. If you really do care about her like you say you do, you’ll do it.”

“Also, how do we know it’s just lust and not love?” Vaggie accused, still scowling, looking to Charlie. “For all we know, she could have also drugged Lute this whole time with Love Potion.”

“I’d never!” Velvette yelled back, defiantly staring up at the angel through tears. “The only person between us who drank that shit was me, because I hate myself! The only time I can even look at myself in the fuckin’ mirror is being hopped up on Love Potion!”

“Oh…” Vaggie’s expression softened, her rage diminishing slightly. Self-loathing, it was something she had in common with the Overlord, and with Lute for that matter. Being a former Exorcist left a ton of room for guilt, the only way she was able to stomach looking at herself for a long time was Charlie helping her become the best version of herself out of love. “How often?” She held her spear pointed upward, resting the butt of it on the ground while she leaned down next to Charlie.

“I have a minifridge in my hotel room stocked with it,” the fashionista admitted. Brass handed her a tissue. “Thank you…” She blew into it, wiping the remainder of her tears. “It tastes and smells like Valentino’s cigarettes. The pornstar drinks the stuff too, to get through every shooting with that schmoozing cunt.”

Charlie reached out to place a hand on Velvette’s shoulder. “You love Lute don’t you?”

She nodded. “Will she ever forgive me when she finds out?”

“That— I do not know…” Charlie cleared her throat. “I’ll be honest, she probably will hate you.” She noticed Velvette about to tear up again. “But—But not forever!” the princess hastily added. “She’ll forgive you in time, but you have to take that first step in making it up to her.”

“It starts with ‘sorry’,” Vaggie half-sang with a smirk, getting playfully nudged by her girlfriend.

“Awh! Look at you teaching my lessons!”

Vaggie wrapped her arm around Charlie, grinning. A sudden intrusive thought occurred. “Bit off topic; but that ‘Ever wanted to fuck and angel’ ad that ran—”

“That was me in disguise,” Brass clarified with an uncomfortable grimace, “Valentino sabotaged the script and costume to break open and reveal Velvette’s chest. Yes, they are pierced. Even if it wasn’t my body I still felt violated… I could only imagine what the boss is feeling…”

Velvette crossed an arm over her breasts, tugging one of her pigtails over her face. It became a little clearer to everyone as to what she really was to The Vees, a face. A pretty face to endorse VoxTek and nothing more. Her achievements were treated like a doodle stuck to a fridge compared to the opulent praise Vox and Valentino receive for their work. It did not matter how good she was at fashion or social media; in the end, she was just another soul employed but with a title and perks.

How long had she been putting on this front?

“Ooohhh…!” Charlie grumbled, her fists shaking against her chin. “When dad’s back…!” She let that threat hang in the air, unsure where she was going with the implication, but she had a feeling Lucifer would be stepping in with her mother in tow.

“So, Velvette, what’s your plan on dealing with this?” Vaggie asked.

“It’s too late to stop production or distribution. Vox has already reverse-engineered the Robo Fizz to create them and knows their specs inside and out. It’s the first one I’m here to shut down, Lutebot Prime.”

Charlie shared a glance with Vaggie. They held that glance for a few seconds too long and grinned. If those things were made using the specs of Robo Fizz, a creation by Asmodeus, built by Asmodeus, copyrighted by Asmodeus… then production and distribution may have a shot at being shut down as a bonus with a few calls to Hell’s finest lawyers, or better yet, a call to a certain Goetia with a love for excessive paperwork and legalese. With a word directly from Charlie, Satan would have no choice but to enforce it. It was almost exhilarating to finally put her authority as Lucifer’s daughter to good use.

Velvette’s eyes ping-ponged between the two grinning women, confused. “Uh—”

“We’ve got a plan, but for later,” Charlie chuckled, standing up. “Tell us what you’ve got in mind.”

“Right, so, during the tail-end of production after Vox threatened me, I may or may not have slipped a bug into the final data upload. You know how mutual soul contracts work?”

“Uh, no, not really…” Vaggie replied, and Charlie nodded thoughtfully, proceeding to explain.

“When a mutual soul contract is broken, there’s a temporary downtime where the souls under contract go through a transference and all parties become temporarily contractless. So if Velvette were to break her connection, all souls in her employ would be in a state of limbo before splitting between Vox and Valentino, it would weaken them.” She shrugged. “I have to read something to keep up with all these Overlord trends. But how does that work into stopping them?”

“Vox put all his eggs into one basket,” Velvette sniggered, “He signed up Lutebot Prime as an asset in the mutual contract, so if I break it off on my end, the thing will act as a proxy, and if we cause that glitch to happen while my souls are in transference…”

Vaggie’s eyes widened, getting the picture. “They would all revert to you as the sole owner from a clause getting voided!!!”

“The fine print.” Velvette grinned wickedly. “That flatscreened fuck and dusty twat will be weaker. And my souls will be safe and sound from them.”

One hour earlier at the hotel…

Lute huffed, stomping out from the laundry room, now without underwear going commando beneath her pajamas. “Fucking embaressing…” She whirled around to poke her head in the open door and shout, “You better not fucking sniff it, you damn gremlin!”

“No promises!” Niffty cackled, twirling the pair of panties around her finger while riding the out-of-control washing machine like a jockey. “Big butt, big butt! Ride like the wind, whirly boy! Yee haw!”

“Fuck you!” the angel screamed, slamming the door and tugging the back of her shirt down to cover her rear. Even when wearing something, without underwear, it felt more naked than actually being naked. She forgot to grab a spare pair when coming down here, more desperate to get her undergarments cleaned before it began to reek of her womanly nectar. For that, she grumbled loudly to herself. “Unbelievable… fucking— oh no, Lute, don’t change before coming down after a wet dream, you fucking bimbo… go downstairs in the… nearly empty hotel…huh…”

She noticed how quiet it was, the only person besides Niffty she ran by was Husk. Everyone else was nowhere to be found. Keekee, Charlie’s demonic cyclopean cat trotted around the corner, spotting Lute. She approached, brushing between the angel’s legs on her way to lord knows where. Prior to Lute’s attempt at suicide, the cat usually gave her a wide berth, but recently she has been getting infrequent visits, if only to pass by and stare. Poor thing must still worry about her.

“Do you know where Charlie is?” Lute asked. She felt stupid asking a mouthless cat, but Keekee was basically the hotel itself, and nothing escaped her when she was paying attention. The cat paused mid-stride and pointed her tail towards the exit. Well, now the angel felt less dumb. “Thanks, uh, I don’t know what you like for treats, so… I guess I’ll give an I.O.U. for answering me.”

Keekee rolled her eye, leaping up into the ceiling with a puff of black and white smoke as she merged with the hotel again. She had to get that cat a treat sometime. Lute continued her journey back upstairs to her room, picking up the pace if only to get back to lying in bed with Violet and pretending like she didn’t just sneak out to change her panties over a wet dream. 
 
Violet’s room door was left ajar, a wave of slight disappointment washed over Lute, then confusion when she noticed no one was inside. Odd, if Violet was out of her room they would have most certainly run into one another. She knocked, then entered, just in case Violet was in the bathroom, but Lute stopped when she saw even that was empty. “Hrmm…” Lute grumbled, turning around.

She froze, being met face to face with two peering eyes staring at her from the window. Both red, one of them with a blue outline and rippling hypnotic pattern. The mouth was stitched into a permanent sneer. No mistake, that was an Exorcist that looked off…

Lute exhaled, a short laugh blurting out between her lips. “Are my hallucinations really not even trying anymore?” The face recoiled, offended. That was new. “Get on out of there, shoo…!” Lute waved her hand in a ‘get outta here’ motion, turning around and paying no heed to what she considered her mind playing tricks on her. All she wanted to do for now was get some fresh underwear and text Violet to see where she went off to. “I shouldn’t have mixed my meds with soda last night before bed…”

The window shattered.

Chapter Text

The plan was in motion. Charlie and Vaggie were making their way to Vox’s main office, Velvette following close by in her Violet disguise to throw off any security as a plus one. Brass, as Velvette was elsewhere in the tower, was corralling all of Velvette’s models and influencers into leaving the tower under the orders of taking a paid week off. It wasn’t the perfect plan, but a collaborative effort was better than clashing ideas.

“Why the disguise?” Vaggie whispered while Charlie was explaining the details of her visit to one of Vox’s security details at one of many checkpoints. Less about safety, more about paparazzi. “Pretty sure Vox knows…”

“He does,” Velvette whispered back, “But he doesn’t want me near his main office unless called in, so my best bet is you tag along as a plus one since the arse didn’t update them… secrecy of the mission and all that.”

“I have an appointment with him in 5 minutes!” Charlie protested.

“And I have my orders to let no one in,” the guard responded uncaringly. “So why don’t you flutter back to your castle with the cyclops and… whatever that dwarf wearing a rat as wig is.”

Velvette felt something snap a little, and lunged, grabbing the guard by the ankle and flailing him like a wrung towel. This was a faster response time than even what Vaggie was used to doing when someone insulted Charlie. She instinctively pulled her girlfriend back, both stunned at the spectacle of Velvette screeching insults and performing a near-perfect reenactment of The Hulk treating Loki like a children’s toy. “My mohawk is a work of art, you fuckin’ nonce! Fuck you! Fuck you!”

So much for secrecy.

The door guard was a barely breathing mess of twisted limbs before long, streaks of splattered blood coated the wall, floor, and ceiling from how fast he was being flung and twirled like a baton. While still grumbling insults, Velvette dug into her victim’s suit and procured a keycard, using it to open the door and tucked it into her cleavage for later. She looked back at the two women. “I forgot how fun it was to just hide stuff in me tits, the tall look didn’t leave much for boob size.” She grinned with a guileless chuckle, bouncing her breasts.

“Yeah, I think your–uhm— mammaries are the least of our worries right now… is he going to be okay?” Charlie asked, squatting down to hoist the unconscious guard and rest him against the wall while his limbs and spine realigned.

“He’s a sinner, he’ll be fine in an hour or so.” Velvette waved dismissively. “You should see the interns Vox feeds to his sharks pulling themselves together from piles of shark shit.”

“Please tell me that was a poor attempt at humor…” Vaggie gagged, “No, I’m serious, please just lie to me and tell me it was a joke…!”

“Nah, if it’ll motivate ya two to fuck him up I’m all for just lettin’ the truth hang out.”

“You’re kind of a bitch…”

“Well, that is my thing. Kind of. Now quit yer chinwaggin’ and follow me.”

They continued their march through the halls, the fashionesque portion of the tower slowly bleeding into the tech-oriented dark blues and red circuit-lined walls of Vox’s domain. Everything felt soulless, mechanical, sterile. Very few were even allowed to venture this far, and it shows. Security was boiled down to a few touchpads requiring identification, and the vanity decor that even Velvette was not above having became looping recreations of the tech demon’s various achievements on screens that lined the final stretch to his main office.

A few of these achievements were manufactured bullshit for investors, but a few did stick out such as acquiring the soul that made VoxTek the juggernaut of the Pride Ring, the first Hellborn recruited, his first ‘consumation’ with Valentino. Gross and all in graphic detail. His greatest achievement was marked with a golden portrait surrounding the screen of him… acquiring Adam’s guitar.

Vaggie skidded to a stop and pointed, shaking Charlie by her shoulder.

The strumming of that instrument could be heard as they drew closer. Its chords were violent and precise. The large double doors shuddered while whoever was playing took requests verbally requested by Vox and Valentino. This wasn’t right. Valentino was supposed to be in his studio…

“Loot at those assholes run!” Vox laughed.

Meanwhile, happening parallel to current events, Lute was running as fast as her legs could take her. An electrically charged spear flung right past her head, barely grazing her cheek. This wasn’t an illusion! This was real! The spear stuck to the wall at the turn, then with a manifested arc pulled itself back to its owner. This thing was strutting towards her, malice in its eyes. It caught the spear, then prepared to throw it again.

“Fuck off!” Lute screamed futilely, her eyes wide with terror.

“Fuck off!” It responded mockingly in her voice. “Look at you, you weak little shit. Losing your breath and begging for your life like a common sinner. Not like I’m here to kill you or anything, but I do enjoy making you suffer…” The fake Exorcist spat. “Maybe I should have used a trident, really get in your guts with it…!”

Panting heavily, the angel couldn’t think straight, this thing knew how to push her buttons and trigger her fight or flight. No matter how hard she tried to muster any bravery to actually fight it, it would only mock her insecurities, her trauma, especially the night she was raped and left for dead. “No!”

Finally, having had enough of the fun little chase, the warped mirror image of Lute made sure to aim true for her legs and impale her calf before Lute could try to continue running away. It struck right between the tibia and fibula, sending a surge of pain through her body as she was essentially tasered by a harpoon. Lute fell to the ground, clawing at the carpet with her hand desperately. The heel of a boot pressed on the back of her head, pushing her face down. “Cute,” it giggled, removing its mask. “Think I will have some fun after all with your sweet little ass before bringing you in. Don’t try fight it, just close your eyes and think of Adam…”

“No! No! Please!” Lute wailed, trying to punch backwards, she didn’t care that whatever this thing is looked like her. It was trying to have its way with her! “Not again! Not again!”

“Did you hear the lady? Fuck off,” a smooth deep voice cut through the dim light, followed by a playing card embedding itself in the wall by the Lutebot’s face. It turned its head to smirk with a cocked eyebrow at the concierge and bartender of the Hazbin Hotel.

“Was that supposed to hit me?”

“Nah, this is.” Husk snapped his claws, the card brightening slowly before exploding like a small firebomb right in the face of this abomination. It recoiled from the blast, stumbling back while clutching its cheek. It sneered, letting its hand drop to the side, revealing a metallic skeletal half-grin. He winced a little seeing Lute’s face. “Holy fuckin’ shit…”

Lutebot roared, “You piece of shit! You ruined my beautiful face!” With a feral stomp, it rushed itself towards Husk, arms poised to strangle.

Husk, with his face still stuck in a mixture of confusion and mild horror, flung playing cards between his claws, each one finding their mark onto the rapidly approaching automaton. They did little to slow it down but stuck to its body, up until they detonated all at once. A mangled heap of twitching steel and a pink substance lay splattered in front of him. He stared down at it, trying to figure out what just happened. Lute’s wails of pain and terror snapped him out of his daze.

“Get away…! Get away…!” Lute repeated, sobbing. She was still swinging at the air behind her. Husk gauged whether it would be a good idea or not to try and get too close and cause a bigger panic.

He slowly took gentle steps towards her, taking a seat against the wall in front of her. “I’m here, kid…” he whispered, letting her cry it out. He didn’t know how this thing even got in, or why it was trying to both assault and kidnap Lute, but Husk did know that he had to stand vigil and make his job mean something.

Rapid footsteps approached from the stairwell. Cherri Bomb turned the corner, holding the wall while panting. She had just felt the explosions rock the hotel from her nap and came as fast as she could. She took in the sight of Lute crying on the floor, Husk sitting next to her glaring straight ahead, and a spear sticking out of the angel’s leg. “What the fuck happened here?” she gawked.

“Some weird and fucked up shit,” Husk rumbled. “Something that looked like her just tried to rape her.”

“Oh fuck naw…” Cherri scowled, strutting closer to see the barely-functioning machine trying to claw its way forward, its voicebox was broken and fizzled with inaudible insults. “Fuck naw!” She stomped on the thing’s head repeatedly, making sure to drive the heel of her booted foot into the metal skull. Cherri pulled out a bomb and lit the fuse, bending over to shove the round explosive into the Lutebot’s mouth and kicking it further away. She dusted off her hands and laid them at rest on her hips. “Blowing up Penty’s stuff felt more fun…” she pouted while an explosion rocked the hall.

“Because it was more intimate?” Husk asked.

“Because it was more intimate, mate!” Cherri exclaimed, throwing her hands up. “Alright… what we do about Lute?” She felt a mild pawing at her leg. “Holy fuck!” Cherri recoiled, then eased when she saw Keekee levitating a first-aid kit. “Spot on.”

Cherri took the first-aid kit and crouched down next to Lute who had gone from swinging feebly to covering her face in shame. “Don’t look at me…!”

“Hey hey… relax, girl… it’s us,” Cherri shushed, “It’s down, and in pieces… sorry for the rattle there, Keekee.” The cat stared back at the scorched hallway and then back at Lute, weighing whether she should be angry at the damage done or to just accept it as a necessity to keep Lute safe. Ultimately, Keekee sat back on her haunches to watch Cherri work on dealing with the wound. “I’m gonna pull the spear out of ya, it’s gonna sting like a bitch.” Cherri reached over and grasped the shaft with both hands, then yanked with all her might, and it came out with ease. Lute didn’t even register the pain. Pale golden ichor oozed from the slowly healing hole.

“I didn’t know you knew first aid,” Husk commented while the cyclops bandaged the area.

“When you’re in my line of destruction, you gotta be able to patch up your mates or yourself.”

“Fair enough.” Husk rested his paw on Lute’s shoulder, letting her cry it out.

“Va-Va-Vaaa... -ffftz…” The detached voice module of the Lutebot crackled. “D-Daddy Val… I tried…send… the rest…!”

Before they could process what that meant, a storm of shattered windows erupted through all the empty rooms on the floor. In perfect synchronicity, Lutebots kicked the doors open and stepped into view, their stitched grins facing the trio. “Make this fun or quick; we don’t care,” they talked at the same time, beckoning with their fingers.  

Husk scrambled to his feet, carrying Lute in his arms. “Think you can keep them off me until we can get her to the panic room?”

“We have a panic room?”

“Yes or no!”

“Yeah yeah! I gotchu!” Cherri summoned two lit bombs and began lobbing them at the assembled group closing in slowly.

“C’mon, bossman!” Husk called out to Alastor. “This ain’t the fuckin’ time to not be around!”

Chapter Text

Vox pointed to one of his many screens showing the Lutebot army’s various points of view. “Oh fuck! Look at that one crawling through the vents like Bruce Willis!”

Valentino, perched on Vox’s lap, pointed to another. “And that one almost got the pussycat’s head!” They laughed uproariously watching a spear nearly skewer Husk’s skull as he ran holding Lute. A few other screens showed Cherri bomb tossing as many explosives as she could conjure, though it was clear she was running out of steam. The bots were relentless and far more durable than the first one made them look.

Lutebot Prime continued to play on Adam’s guitar, complementing the visuals with sliding riffs and sharp chords. She was piloting them all as a central control unit, the guitar an amplifier remote. Her eyes shifted to one screen, quickly performing a riff to have the controlled Lutebot swat the tossed bomb back at Cherri with its spear and countered by tossing it into her arm. Cherri screamed loudly, ripping out the weapon before Lutebot Prime to deliver the taser command. “Slippery little shit…” Lutebot Prime grunted. Her head twisted a full 180 to face the door as it was kicked open. Velvette was still in her short Violet disguise, though with her usual facial features, stomping in, followed by Charlie and Vaggie. “Setting drones to auto.” She looked to her boss. “Sir, your appointment is here with the traitor. Shall I have her eviscerated?”

“Nah, there’ll be time for that fun later,” Vox flatly replied, swivelling his chair to face them. “Heya, princess! Glad you could make it!”

Charlie took one look at the monitors and felt her stomach drop. “What are you doing?!” she yelled, her hair flowing out with fire blazing from her horns sprouting fully.

“Pest control,” he said with a shrug, “We tried to bring Lute here and get to Alastor but the bitch ain’t showing up.”

“The guitar… using it for this is…it’s blasphemy!” Vaggie growled, then recalled who its original owner was. “Ok… maybe not… but what the fuck?!”

Velvette’s eyes darted all over the plethora of screens, seeing one with Lute being carried by Husk. Her heart nearly broke seeing the angel in such visible distress, it didn’t take much to put two and two together at what the drones tried to do to her before bringing her to the tower for whatever reason. Her arms shuddered with barely restrained rage. “What the fuck did you try doin’ to her?” she whispered through gritted teeth, loud enough to be heard.

“Well, to make her sign her soul over, you need to break her, babydoll,” Valentino replied matter-of-factly. “It’s how I get my workers, a perfect slut and status symbol for us two.” He gave a fanged grin, drooling with pink saliva.

That response caught everyone aback, except for Vox and Lutebot Prime. The automaton smirked.

“Shame, you could have had some of that status too, babe,” Vox added, his grin dropping to a snarl. “But you had to go and play hooky and join the pansy club. The fuck makes you think I wouldn’t know that you fell in love with that angelic slut? That you actually signed up for Charlie’s hotel?! I’ve got eyes and ears everywhere in this dump of walking wallets!”

“Ooh, you got him mad, puta estúpida!” the moth chuckled, stepping off his partner’s lap.

“Oh shut the FUCK up!” Charlie snapped, her pitchfork growing out of her arm before she clutched it. “I try to be nice, I try to make things right, believing there’s good in every soul! There’s a reason you two are in Hell, there’s a reason why everyone’s in Hell. But you two fucking deserve to be!” She pointed the three-pronged tip at Vox. “I’ve already had enough bullshit of people attacking my hotel and putting my guests at risk from Adam.”

“Woo! Go Charlie!” Vaggie cheered, excited to see Charlie put her foot down this hard.

Vox stood up, adjusting his suit. “Remember, Velvette, you asked for this. But you can make up for your mistake.” A chain manifested, locking around her throat and tugging her forward. “All you gotta do is kneel, and take these two bimbos out of my tower. Maybe then I’ll keep you as an intern.”

Velvette gasped, clutching her throat and gagging from the lack of breath. She stepped a foot forward to keep herself from kneeling. The temptation to push the button to release her collar was overwhelming, but she needed to ensure the safety of her souls, and to make sure the plan goes through. She needs to make sure that Lutebot Prime is ready to be destroyed.

She glared up at him, “Never… you outdated cunt!”

Vox’s eye twitched.

“Yeah! You suck, television is outdated anyway!” Vaggie called out.

“Uh-huh! Radio is classier!” Charlie added. “And streaming is more accessible!”

And that seemed to do it, blue arcs of electricity surged as Vox’s temper was finally at its peak. The shark tank surrounding the office cracked, water cascading from the broken glass and coalescing into a sphere above, caged by electricity. Valentino noped out of range by flapping his wings and getting to higher ground, sitting cross-legged on a light fixture. He waved down to the three women in a ‘toodaloo’ motion. Lutebot Prime grinned, readying herself for the moment she could finally have heads roll by her hand. Vox reached up, clenching his fist, the cage expanded, the sphere crashed down and engulfed them all.

Charlie clung to Vaggie, struggling for breath while Velvette looked around frantically in the inky darkness. A figure cut through, ramming into the princess and her girlfriend to send them out the watery prison and through the wall of the tower.

“You fucked up…” Vox’s voice garbled, his collosal figure floating into view. His face had transformed from a flatscreen to what resembled a titanic shark snout, his jaw a permanent grin of broken glass. His upper body remained nearly the same, albeit with longer arms and a shark fin protruding from his back, his lower body was just a long shark tail lit up by blue circuitry. “You just had to make me go full demon, you bitch… made me ruin my favourite suit pants.” His eyes narrowed. “I’m gonna chew you like a piece of driftwood!”

Velvette grunted, exhaling, a stream of bubbles escaping her lips. She held up a middle finger, smirking. He wasn’t the only one with a full demon aspect, she had the same amount of fucking souls he has.

Angel Dust looked around the studio, it was oddly empty. This wasn’t Valentino’s style at all during working days. Sure, there were a few of his co-stars just lounging about, rehearsing their scripts. That was normal, but Valentino was always down their throats about getting the ‘passion’ right.  “Hey Bill!” he called over to a large minotaur-looking sinner.

Bill looked up from his script, snorting mist through his nostrils. “Oh, hey, Dusty,” he replied, fiddling with his nosering. “Ain’t it your day off? Did Val call you in again?”

“Nah, actually, been meanin’ to ask, where is the prick anyway?”

The building shook, Angel tried to keep steady as studio lights and camera equipment began tumbling over and causing small fires. In mere moments, the studio was pure pandemonium with the fire spreading and staff clamouring for the exits. He was left standing confused amongst a sudden wreckage of a studio, he opened his mouth to exclaim what the fuck was going on, but got cut short by a large marrionette hand the size of his body crashing through from the ceiling in front of him, connected to a series of arms and balljoints. It retracted back into the darkness above in a weaving snake-like motion, leaving a hole going all the way from the studio to wherever the Hell that just came from.

“Ok! What the fu—!” Once more, he was cut off by a trio of women smashing through the wall, Charlie, Vaggie, and Lutebot Prime collided with the opposite wall and broke apart.

Lutebot Prime made the first move, swinging the guitar axe at Vaggie, who caught it with the length of her spear. Sparks began flying as two holy weapons clashed, pining for dominance in a match of strength. Charlie lunged with her pitchfork, leaping over Vaggie to get a clear hit at the doppleganger’s head. It was blocked by catching its free forearm between the prongs and twisting, sending Charlie flying to the side with enough force to break the bones of a lesser demon. “Weak,” Lutebot Prime commented, kicking Vaggie in the gut. “Pitiful,” they continued, using the still-caught pitchfork’s length to crack against Vaggie’s head.

A barrage of bullets hailed onto Lutebot Prime, striking her in the shoulder before she spun her wrist like a propeller blade with the axe, deflecting the remainder. She glared at Angel Dust who had drawn his tommy guns. He pulled the triggers again, getting only a hollow click in return. “Fuck… forgot to reload…” He shrugged, chuckling nervously. “Can’t blame a guy for tryin’ eh?”

“I can,” Lutbeot Prime snarled, launching the pitchfork at the spider, catching his throat between the prongs and sticking him against the wall. He choked, grasping at the thing as he dangled. “Daddy Val will have a word with you later.”  A fist connected with her cheek, and she barely even flinched. Her eyes slowly locked onto Vaggie, offended. “Ok, you get one point for effort, Vags.”

She kicked Vaggie up before performing a follow-up axe kick that shattered the ground beneath, pinning her and shattering her ribs. A swing of the axe at her throat was blocked by Charlie’s arm, growing into a large red fist. “Hands off my girlfriend!” she screamed through the agony, her other arm forming the same fist that landed a brutal uppercut into Lutebot Prime’s jaw. They recoiled, their neck broken at an unnatural angle.

Charlie huffed, grasping her hand where the cut was, the wound slowly healing over time, thankfully due to her Seraphic lineage. It still stung, though, and if it cleaved through, she would have lost her hand permanently. Drops of blood oozed from the wound, iridescent red and shimmering like a spectrum. The result of being neither purely human or fallen angel. Vaggie stared at the speckles of blood on the ground, slightly mesmerized. She had almost forgotten what it looked like, one of the many unique traits of Charlie that she adored. Almost makes Charlie’s little musical number at 666 News of a rainbow being within every demon literal.

“Ew, is that what your blood is?” Lutebot Prime grimaced at the splatter on the guitar axe’s head and wiped it off with her wrist. “Looks like gay oil.”

“Woah woah, lotta homophobia for some tin-can that’s owned by the gayest duo this side of the Pride Ring, and I take dick for a livin’!” Angel Dust snorted, finally pushing the pitchfork off his throat and dropping to the floor, using it as a walking stick to keep himself steady. “You’d think with the broad you’re based on you’d get it. I haven’t seen gay panic like her’s before.”

“Consider yourself lucky Daddy Val needs you alive—”

“What’s with the ‘Daddy Val’? What? D’ya call Vox ‘Voxy Poo?’”

“...”

“I nailed it, didn’t I?” Angel pointed with a smug grin. Charlie and Vaggie couldn’t stop themselves from laughing a little through the pain.

“Fuck! Don’t make me laugh, Angel! Vaggie coughed, “My ribs are still realigning!”

“Parameters changed, he needs you alive, but he never said not in pieces…” Lutebot Prime cracked her neck back into place, her masked helmet closing around her head into the stitched grin and hypnotic glare.

Husk kept running, his wings draped protectively around Lute, who was still having a panic attack. The panic room was close, just a few more halls and a stairwell. This was something he had been relentlessly told about by Charlie in the event the hotel ever got attacked, to protect any guests and staff who could not fight. At this point he could find the damn place while drunk off his ass blindfolded, in hindsight he was thankful to have been grilled on it by the princess. In some cosmic sort of way he always knew it would have been an attack from The Vees because of Alastor, though he also felt disappointed that he was somewhat right.

A vent burst open, followed by a Lutebot grasping at his ankles, barrely missing. “Nice, try pissant!” he mocked.

The drone snapped its fingers, annoyed, then looked back into the vent to be met with a single cyclopian eye and fanged grin in the darkness. “Hiiiii…” Niffty drawled, tugging the screaming drone into the depths of the ventilation system.

Cherri meanwhile was tossing bombs while covering Husk’s escape. The battle had taken its direction to the lobby, where in the open area more of the drones began making themselves known, crowding the lobby. Her hands felt sore, her chest was getting tight, and breathing burned. “Fuckin’ wankers…” she huffed, conjuring a stick of dynamite to throw at the growing crowd. Pieces and limbs flew all over the place, but any space made was filled by another batch of them. “Keekee?! Can ya give me a hint to how many more of the fucks I gotta blow up?!”

The television of the main lobby flickered to life, displaying a live counter of the number of drones still active, with a helpful visual aid being an overhead map. They were almost all in the lobby, this gave Cherri an idea.

“Lock the rooms when they’re all in! And for future reference, sorry ‘bout this!”

Cherri kept throwing bombs with one arm while conjuring a satchel of gunpowder, shoving the contents into her mouth and swallowing. She did this a few more times until her stomach felt close to bursting and her arm felt numb. The drones advanced mindlessly, as if compelled by simpler orders. Niffty leapt from a nearby vent onto a stair railing, sliding down with a gleeful squee and a decapitated Lutebot drone’s head in her hand. She flew off the railing right next to the bombshell with a spinning flourish and ecstatic cackle. “Weee! More angels to stab!”

“Fucking— Niff?! You were s’posed to be with Husk!” Cherri exclaimed, biting into another satchel of gunpowder.

“No fair! I wanna have some fun too!” Niffty grumbled, stomping her foot. She eyed the gunpowder and her eye widened. “Oooh! Boom snacks!”

“Pff… yeah, ‘boom snacks’. If ya don't mind a little pain ya could help me with somethin’.”

The diminutive maid tilted her head, tossing the drone’s head away into the crowd. “You had me at pain…!”

“Cool! Get me any stashed drinks Husk’s got hidden ‘ere and bring em to me!”

Niffty saluted, darting off and weaving between the stomping legs and stabbing spears of the drones. Cherri could feel herself low on strength, she was used to quick and explosive turf wars, not an endurance test playing final bastion. She was down to her final satchel of gunpowder she could produce, and her final cherry bomb. Cherri was forced to resort to kicking back the oncoming horde, ducking her head from a spear thrust as she ascended the stairs to the intersection where the split stairway met.

“Hold it, fuckers! If ya zap me or even set me off… I’ll go boom!” she half-bluffed, holding her last bomb to her mouth. The horde stopped, looking at each other. “Ya heard me right!”

That moment of hesitation was all she needed. Niffty bounced over holding two bottles of high alcohol content booze, bordering on ethanol. “What now?” she giggled, bouncing in place between her feet. Cherri grabbed one and tossed the satchel to Niffty.

“Eat up,” she commanded with a grin, popping the cork and glugging the bottle down.

Niffty had already started eating the gunpowder, her cheeks puffed out from how much she had poured in. “Heehee! Tastes like cigarettes and sand!” She squeaked a bit as Cherri lifted her, pouring the second bottle down her throat and getting shaken vigorously like a martini, all that gunpowder and alcohol making one hell of a combination in the two cylopses’ guts. “Wuh-hu-uh-uh-uh!” Niffty groaned while being shaken.

The doors leading to the main lobby all shut and locked, that was the final signal from Keekee.

“All ya VoxTek cunts gotta learn one thing and one thing only!” Cherri shoved the bomb down Niffty’s throat and lit the fuse at the corner of her lips. Niffty hopped onto Cherri’s shoulders, raising her arms victoriously like a child who had just eaten their broccoli. “Don’t fuck with the hotel!”

“Yah yah!!!”

Cherri struck a pose with both fingers flipping the bird, Niffty glowing orange, cackling with utter glee.

The lobby shook, a fireball engulfing it. This was the bombshell cyclops’ trump card. The end-all be-all of any turf war she was a part of where if she couldn’t win, no one would. Her lovingly named ‘Barbeque Buster Bomb’, BBB for short. It hurt like a bitch, but unlike the bots, she and Niffty would regenerate after good while.

Husk at the panic room entrance tapped on a keypad, trying to remember the passcode. “Man, I fuckin’ hate technology!” he growled, being launched forward a little by the shockwave of Cherri’s BBB. He headbutted the keypad, inputting the correct code as a result. He rubbed his head, annoyed. “Aight… that works…”

“C-Calvus…please… help me…” Lute whimpered.

“He ain’t here, just your friendly barkeep, Husk,” he soothed, pulling the heavy door open.

The panic room had a few rolled-up futons, shelves with nonperishables, and water. The food wasn’t needed, but appreciated. The alcoholic feline lay Lute down on one of the futons after kicking one down and rolling it out with his foot, the door closed behind them, locking them in for a set period.

“Welp… just you and me… want some beef jerky?” Husk offered, picking up a packet from the shelf. “No clue what kinda meat this is.” He sniffed after opening it. “Hm, bit salty, but it’ll do.” Husk picked out a strip of jerky and offered with with a small comforting smile.

“Hold still! Lutebot Prime screeched, bringing the axe down like a mace. It tore apart the bed Angel leapt onto, getting stuck in the springs. “Gragh!”

“Boop!” Angel used the bounciness of the remainder of the springs to leap into a dropkick.

Charlie followed up with a punch to the back of their head, catching the automaton in a vice of force. Vaggie took the opportunity to also step in with a strike of her own to the wings with her spear. They tore apart like tinfoil, leaving only the steel endoskeleton of frayed steel. No more flying, no escape for it.

“Enough!” Lutbeot Prime screeched, releasing a shockwave of electrical power. Everyone nearby shuddered as if they got struck by lightning, struggling to stand. “You’re all pathetic! Three of you are taking me on and all you’ve done is cost me a trip to get my wings replaced! Which is going to be fucking annoying!” She grabbed Angel’s leg and used him to club Charlie back, tossing him away too and kicking away Vaggie’s spear.

“Oh please… I’ve fought the real Lute through training drills in Heaven and spars in the hotel. And she’s kicked my ass with less bullshit than you’ve got. She didn’t need cybernetics, she didn’t need a weapon! You’re no Lute!” Vaggie mustered any strength she had left to punch at the doppleganger. Her punches landed with not much force, serving to only amuse Lutebot Prime.

Lutebot Prime smirked, slapping Vaggie’s hand away and grasping her throat, lifting her off the ground. “Correct, I’m better.” She prepared to bring the axe down on Vaggie’s head. One definitive strike, that’s all she needs to eviscerate a soul. “Goodbye.”

The axe swung down, cleaving straight through to the ground.

Her target was gone, no golden splatter. No corpse, but a pair of booted legs and a red trail. Lutebot Prime followed the trial to see Angel Dust holding Charlie’s trident and Vaggie on her back staring in shock, the sparking remains of an arm attached to the prongs, the hand still firmly grasping Vaggie’s throat. “Gotcha, bitch…!” he wheezed weakly, slumping forward onto Vaggie. Limp and cold.

“What the fuck…!” Lutebot Prime grunted, seeing her missing arm. Before she could process what had just happened she felt her iron spine get fractured by Charlie flying at full speed, pinning the automaton. With tears in the princess's eyes she began to relentlessly punch Lutebot Prime over and over again, each strike intended to both incapacitate and deal the most harm as possible. Arms, legs, torso, it didn’t matter where her fists landed. So long as the head was still operational for the final step it was good enough to let out all her rage.

WHY DOES EVERYTHING AND EVERYONE WANT TO KILL MY FRIENDS?! ” Charlie screamed, letting loose with her royal addressing voice her mother usually used when asserting command. “ IS IT TOO FUCKING MUCH TO ASK THAT WE JUST REDEEM SOULS IN PEACE WITHOUT DRAMA? WITHOUT LOSS AND BLOODSHED?! ”

Her punches grew weaker, Lutebot Prime’s body had been reduced to a torso and head, writhing in simulated agony. Charlie curled over, covering her face and weeping. Vaggie could only watch, clutching Angel’s body, tears streamed from her one eye.

Losing Pentious and Dazzle was already a fresh wound, even if the former was still alive in Heaven.

But no one knew if Angel Dust was worthy, not even Heaven understood their own rules of what makes a soul worthy of salvation. For all Charlie and Vaggie knew, their first guest, their friend, was gone.

Somewhere within the panic room of the hotel, Husk felt something hollow. He couldn’t place a finger on why, but he suddenly felt empty and cold.

“Kid…” he whispered quietly, dread in his voice.

Chapter Text

Within the sphere of water at the top of V Tower’s most exclusive office, Velvette and Vox were combatting at a stalemate. Each strike was met with equal force, every blocked attack met with an equally devastating parry. Though Velvette was at a significant disadvantage, fighting in water left her movements sluggish, with her only real saving grace being multiple arms and a durable body.

Her full demon state was in her words; utterly hideous. Seldom used, only the extra arms were seen as a use when she wanted to use a modicum of it. Her body resembled a clothed anatomy doll’s torso layered on top of another at the neck like a twisted centaur, the upper torso having arms where legs should be, totalling six arms. The arms were a snake-like collection of clicking joints, each ending in a large marionette hand. Velvette’s head remained largely unchanged except for her eyes and mouth. An extra pair was positioned diagonally outwards just below her original pair, her mouth remained in a permanent grin, two pairs of fanged teeth, and a long tongue constantly dangling out.

For Velvette, fashion and image were everything, but with a new passion on the line, she would accept this monstrous form and embrace her ugly side. If only to kick Vox’s ass. She sent two arms coiling towards Vox as he charged through the depths, spiralling to dodge them and land a precise punch to the neck joint of the bottom torso.

“You only made yourself an evenly-sized target, dumbass!” Vox taunted, getting slapped by another hand coming down from above. “Fuck!” He flicked his tail and used it to retaliate with a smack at Velvette’s shoulder. Her arm briefly detached then reconnected with a small puff of bubbles. “What’s the matter? Can’t keep it together?”

“Better than you do when I say ‘Alastor’!” Velvette sneered. Her jab made its point when Vox screamed and rushed headlong, spinning with such speed the water around him coalesced into a drill, sparking with jolts of electric power. She felt him spear right through her chest, leaving a gaping hole of cracked wood that repaired itself slowly. That stung. “See? You’re a salty little pussy!”

Valentino yawned, staring at the two silhouettes battling. It was exciting at first to see Vox use his full power, but with such a boring stalemate ending in what looks like back-and-forth banter, he lost interest. He gazed down into the hole in the floor left by one of Velvette’s missed strikes, going all the way to the bottom floor. His eye twitched, seeing a faint glow coming from below. A column of flame erupted straight for the sphere of water. Charlie was quickly rising out of the hole, screaming with pure rage and flames spewing from her open mouth, black bat-like wings flapping.

“Nuh-uh, princesa,” he tutted, batting his wings. The force of the wind sent Charlie off course, her little flamethrower act missing its mark by mere inches. “Can’t have you interrupting Vox and Velvette’s little tiempo a solas.”

Charlie directed her fury towards him, her snarl twisting into a grin. Ever since that one time seeing how Angel Dust was treated, and how Valentino tried to sign her up for his sick little movie-making empire, she was dying to one day put him in his place. He had no more leverage to emotionally blackmail her, Angel Dust was dead, in a way that too was also his fault. “I’m going to take a page out of Niffty’s book…” she growled gutturally, clasping two fists together and slowly splaying her arms out, a larger pitchfork forming from churning sparks and flames. “...and stab you. A LOT.”

Valentino didn’t pay the threat any mind, drool trickling down his chin. He wasn’t perturbed… he was aroused. His jaw unhinged, a pair of mandibles cracking out from within his cheeks and clamped a few times, his body pulsed grotesquely, growing with each passing heartbeat. He was a lot taller than Alastor in his full demon state, but still maintained the gangly figure.

“Ew, is that it?” Charlie frowned.

“...What? What???” the moth squealed. “What is wrong with my presence, you pampered slut?!”

“All you did was grow a few storeys taller and make your mouth all weird.” Charlie’s rage seemed to briefly subside, her face the picture of uninterested boredom. “Vox turns into a megalodon, Velvette gets to turn into this cool-looking puppet abomination. But you…?” She gestured with her free hand, incredulously staring him up and down.

“Maybe if you’d let me finish?!” Valentino complained.

Charlie huffed through her nostrils, a pair of flame jets following. She wanted this done with, but if it meant this travesty of a soul wanted to look his best when she beat him into the ground so far that Auntie Belphagore would have to mail him back up, then so be it. “Fine.”

“Gracias!” he huffed in return, muttering under his breath. “Stupida… doesn’t know true beauty if it slapped her ass…” 

“I do, her name is Vaggie, and yes. She does. I like it hard.” She smirked.

Valentino snarled, his body bulking up from a slim figure to that of a brute, his shirt tearing open and his wings constantly exhuming a reddish-pink mist that draped around his shoulders like a feather boa.

“You done?” Charlie asked, impatiently swinging her pitchfork like a pendulum.

“...Si,” Valentino confirmed.

Charlie threw her hands up and exclaimed, “Finally!” Without hesitation she pinched the butt of her weapon and swung it in an arc, a wave of flames coating the prongs and sending it forward. The moth flapped his wings, confident he would deflect the incoming swathe of fire. He was mistaken. It struck like a solid truck of bricks, knocking him against the wall of his perch. His vision blurred from the minor concussion, and in his daze could only see the blurry outline of Charlie getting closer with every blink. He panicked, pulling out his shiny little zebra-print gun, Moneyshot, and blasted wildly. Normally, he was accurate enough to shoot a moving target while aiming between his legs, but with the princess of Hell, Lucifer’s daughter, out for blood right in his face, all he could do was squeal in fear.

A lucky shot struck Charlie’s wing. She stopped mid-flight to assess the wound and looked back at Valentino. Even with his head the size of her body, she easily yanked him aside by his one good antenna to the ground just below the sphere of water where Vox and Velvette were still fighting. He lumbered to his feet, feeling his head, she had ripped it off and the feathery remains were clinging to her hand.

Charlie took notice of the clinging appendage and wiggled her wrist. “Ew…ewewewew!!! Why is it so sticky?!”

“I am going to fuck your corpse!” Valentino screeched, his mandibles snapping with sparks flying between them. His mist swirled and split into small floating pieces, then hardened with a sheen, forming thousands of needles. He sent the barrage forward, the ground splintering and cracking as they blotted him out. Charlie spun her weapon as fast as she could to deflect most of them, but a few had pricked her arm. They didn’t hurt, but her arm started feeling numb. What Valentino lacked in physical prowess, he more than made up for with technique and his own body’s natural poisons and pheromones. Charlie quickly brushed her arm off, getting rid of as many needles as she could while the moth grinned. “Not so clever now, puta, where’s your little comebacks?”

He approached and exhaled with a plume of his mist crashing like a wave over Charlie’s legs. Her balance began to falter, nearly toppling into the fog at her feet.

“C’mon… keep it coming…” Charlie grunted just quietly enough to not be heard. Valentino reached down to grasp her head and do lord knows what with her gradually floppy body. She pricked his hand with her still-functioning arm with the pitchfork. He recoiled, shaking off the pain. He inhaled, ready to exhale a new batch of his poison to cripple her further.

Seeing her chance, Charlie aimed and blew as hard as her lungs would allow, a fine jet of flames leaving her lips like a Bunsen Burner stretched into Valentino’s open mouth. A beat passed, then he erupted in flames, screeching in agony. “AIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEE!!!” He flailed, trying to feebly put out the flames, his body slowly hardened like charcoal, cracking anew at his joints with every struggle. He collapsed, his whole body burnt black and his wings remnants of what they were. The moth wheezed heavily, reaching up to grasp at a soul chain, most likely Angel’s. It manifested, then fizzled while phasing through his fingers. He growled, focusing harder. It appeared this time, along with his special little collar, Angel’s chain flickered weakly.

“That won’t work…” Charlie said while glaring down her nose at him, “But you’ve made things easier for me…” She impaled the hand holding the chain and slowly dragged it over to the collar. Pursing he lips, she whistled as loud as she could, at the same time sending a small orb of flame into the sphere of water.

Vaggie flew up through the hole holding the severed head of Lutebot Prime aloft, the orb of flame entered the sphere and fizzled out, but glowed just brightly enough for her to get the signal.

With precise timing and luck, Charlie forced Valentino to press his button by shoving his hand against his manifested mutual contract collar’s button. He convulsed, blue and cerise sparks of electricity poured out of his chest and flowed like a maelstrom into the sphere, feeding into Vox and Velvette.

Vox looked around, alarmed that Valentino had lost his mutual contract. He caught sight of Velvette manifesting her collar, a victorious smirk on her face. “Toodaloo.” She pressed the button, and Vaggie crushed Lutebot Prime’s head into oblivion, the proxy of the contract causing a null clause. All of Valentino’s souls and her own became hers and hers alone. She reverted to he original state, cracking her knuckles and raising a fist, it wound back far with extended joints and coiled like a spring.

Vox raised his arms to cover his face. “Ah… shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit!” With the strength of two sets of Overlord’s soul contracts, she sent the tech Overlord careening out of his own arena with a single punch, his cry of failure echoing through the slowly crumbling tower. The sphere of water dissipated and poured down, slamming against the walkway to the remains of Vox’s monitors, which he had become embedded in.

Velvette coughed and hacked up a few mouthfuls of water, beating her chest. “Haven’t had a swim since college,” she spluttered. “So, should we get outta here, then?”

“Wait! What about everyone in the tower? And Angel’s body?!” Charlie panicked, being held up by her girlfriend.

“Called in a favour, don’t worry.” She rested a hand on her hip. “Everyone’s safe and sound, ‘cept these two cunts…” Velvette gave Valentino a disdainful kick to his ribs.

“...Ow…” he groaned.

“So… mind givin’ me a lift to the hotel if your limo’s still down there?” Velvette’s face fell, looking nervous. “I’ve gotta make a long… long…” she sighed, “long… apology…”

Husk and Lute sat in silence within the panic room, the sounds of conflict had ceased since Cherri pulled off her hell of a bunker buster. Lute had calmed down, chewing on a piece of beef jerky with an abbrasive glare at the wall.

I fucked up, fumbled my weapon and nearly got raped… and my response? Cry like a fucking baby while I get protected yet again.

She looked over her shoulder at Husk. He had been oddly silent, more so than usual. He didn’t fidget, drink like a fish, or try and start a conversation. He looked distraught. Lute opened her mouth and paused. She was never good at talking to someone about feelings unless it was biting sarcasm and playful banter in the case of Cherri and Angel Dust, to her, Violet was the rare exception. She may as well put those workshops to some use.

“You okay?”

Husk briefly snapped out of his silent mourning. “Huh?” He brightened up a little, chuckling. “Heh, I should be askin’ you that.”

“I’ve seen that look before, you know…”

“How so?”

Lute cleared her throat, swallowing the last remnants of her bite of jerky. “During Exterminations, every time the bell tolled and we had to go back. Once that clock resets, we aren’t allowed to kill any more sinners unless they attacked first, so we of course saw the faces of sinners leaving their hiding spots, terrified, sad. And on the rare occasion, I see them curled over someone. Friend, family, didn’t matter to us. We only revelled in their suffering. I’ve seen the face of someone who lost someone close for lifetimes…”

The angel shuddered, the overwhelming feeling of guilt crashing over her.

“If Violet knew who I was... I might have killed someone close to her! I shouldn’t feel ashamed as an angel, but I am!”

Husk contemplated her words, his wings flapping a little and stretching. “Havin’ a guilty conscience ain’t evil. It’s human. But you’re right about one thing, kid, I don’t know why but I just had this horrible feeling. Like someone died.”

“Cherri and Niffty? I’m sure they’re fine, whatever those fucking things were had no Angelic Steel.”

“Not them…I  don’t know who…”

“Hm…” Lute reached into the bag and popped another piece of beef jerky in her mouth. “Why did those things look like me?” she finally asked, hoping for any kind of answer.

“Beats the fuck outta me, it was creepy.”

“I know, right?!” Lute exclaimed, “They looked like me, talked like me, like the old me! And one wanted to fuck me! What kind of Fruedian self-cestious fucknugget came up with that plan?!”

“Just a hunch, but the helmets scream Vox. Doesn’t sound like any more are around, but let’s stay here until we get confirmation from Keekee, Charlie, or whoever we trust gets here first.”

Lute harumphed, seething at the prospect of her image being used for this kind of bullshit. She flopped back onto her futon, crossing her arm over her chest. She tapped her foot in the air, feeling the seconds tick by. Once the initial adrenaline rush and shame from her breakdown wore off, this was incredibly boring. And no phone meant no entertainment or contact. Lute took a mental inventory of everyone at the hotel: Cherri, Niffty, Keekee, Alastor perhaps, Husk, herself… Fat Nuggets. She bolted upright. No one checked in on the Hell Piglet! She grunted, standing up and approaching the panic room door. In all this chaos, they forgot to make sure that Nuggets was safe; he wasn’t immortal! Neither was Keekee, as far as they knew, but she could handle herself.

“What’re you doin’?”

She turned to face him, slightly panicked. “We forgot about Angel Dust’s pig!”

“Oh shit…!” Husk also bolted to his feet.

The door unlatched, swinging open slowly. Cherri stood there looking no worse for wear, though practically naked, her entire wardrobe having been singed off by her self-destruct. She waved, carrying both a very tuckered-out Niffty bundled into a towel like a burrito on her back and a confused Nuggets sniffling at the air under her arm.

Husk and Lute breathed a collective sigh of relief. The card-dealing feline’s eyes looked down. “Oh for fuck—! Put on a damn towel, ya animal!” Husk growled, grabbing one of the folded towels on the shelves to toss over Cherri’s head, which draped her like a Halloween ghost.

“Thanks,” Cherri sniggered. “I hope Keekee got my bomb on camera. I want to save and upload that shit!”

“Where’d you find him?” Lute pointed to the pig as Cherri adjusted the towel to cover her curvaceous body like a toga.

“Angel’s room, checked there first after the blast, poor fella was hiding under the bed.” She lifted Nuggets to face her, giving him gentle nose nuzzles while cooing. “But Auntie Cherri fucked up those mean machines, didn’t she? Papa Angie won’t fuckin’ kill me for lettin’ ya bite it. That’s right, who’s a cute still-living piggy? You are! You are!”

Fat Nuggets wiggled a little, squealing and oinking happily.

“You should probably head to your room, kid,” Husk said, gently nudging Lute. “Lotta cleaning to do, and you could use a nap.”

“Yeah…” Lute sighed, feeling her shoulders sag. “I just wanna close my eyes and—”

“Wake up to Violet?” Cherri teased.

Lute rolled her eyes. “I should probably come clean to her about myself, no point in hiding it now,” she mumbled, “Also, I’m sick of being called Loop like I’m some kinda eccentric billionaire.” The angel shot Cherri a glance. “And the fucking pictures of me wearing that mouthpiece!”

Husk cracked his neck, rubbing the back of it. “We’ll figure that later, kid, just get some rest. We’ll fill Charlie in on what happened. I need a drink first…” Cherri’s eye darted side to side, almost afraid to admit what became of his hidden lobby stash.

She didn’t need to be told again. Lute lumbered her way out of the panic room and through the halls, seeing corpses with her own face along the way. It was uncanny and a little disturbing. All her self-loathing somewhat balanced it out, feeling a sense of catharsis seeing her old self dead, both metaphorically and technically literally. Her heart leapt to her throat when she saw the lobby, a mountain of mechanical cadavers in pieces strewn all over the place. Everything was either burnt black or shattered, the main double-staircase upwards became a miniature crater. Keekee was pawing at one of the heads of the Lutebots, her eye doing a double-take seeing Lute, processing whether or not this was the real one with her fur standing on end. The cat relaxed when she saw Lute give a small wave, then returned to pawing at a rolling head.

Lute walked past to an alternate stairwell down a hall, tip-toeing over a torso there, a limb here. A glint caught her eye. One of the spears they were using was left in near-perfect condition, only scorched. She leant down and picked it up, feeling its weight. Not too heavy, good heft, and the tip resembled Vaggie’s. With a few modifications she could replace the spearhead with her broken sword to make a pretty kickass Naginata.

“Yoink,” she softly chuckled, taking it with her.

Chapter Text

A dark void, calm, warm. It wasn’t nothingness, but it wasn’t something. He couldn’t see his hands nor feel them or his body, yet paradoxically, he could still feel everything around him. Angel Dust blinked, he had no eyelids of which to blink, but he did.

“Huh… guess I did bite it back there,” he murmured aloud. His voice came from nowhere, echoed to nowhere. “So this is double-dead, huh? Just me, the void, and my thoughts. Man… am I gonna go insane from boredom or just merge with nothin’?”

He looked around, he could feel himself moving forward, but without the sensation of walking or floating. Angel didn’t know why he was even looking anyway, there was nothing for an eternity.

“I wish I got to say goodbye…” he sighed, feeling tears coming from nowhere, blurring his vision. “Ohhh… Fat Nuggies… Cherri…” Angel choked, trying not to wail. “Husk!” he cried out. He never even got to meet his sister again, to finally catch up with her and be himself around her without the mob’s stigma against being gay. This was torture, this was the real Hell. An eternity stuck with your own thoughts, nothing left of you but the ability to reflect forever.

His non-existent eyes closed, embracing oblivion with nothing left behind but regret.

DATUM: ACKNOWLEDGED.

Angel’s eyes snapped open. Did he just hear that right? He looked wildly around the void, trying to follow the deep booming voice of whatever he had just heard. “Hello? Is that someone or just my ass goin’ loony already?”

PRESENCE: ABSOLUTE.

Ok, so there was someone or something there. The voice was accompanied this time by a loud ticking noise. Like a grandfather clock, with each swing of a pendulum. It was direct and emotionless, it was watching. “So… can ya tell me where I am?”

RESPONSE: JUDGMENT.

“...Wait, am I goin’ to Heaven?” He felt himself smiling hopefully, a wide genuine grin from ear to ear.

RESPONSE: NO.

Angel felt himself slumping in disappointment, his invisible smile drooping. “Oh fuckin’ great… so I am goin’ to nothin’!”

RESPONSE: NO.

Now that was puzzling, neither worthy of Heaven or double-death, if the latter even existed. Couldn’t hurt to ask. “Can ya tell me if there is such a thing as double-dead?”

RESPONSE: NO. EXPLANATION: SOULS ARE INDESTRUCTIBLE, ESSENCE TRANSFERENCE VIABLE. OTHER OPTIONS AVAILABLE.

“Essence transwhovius?” Angel repeated. “Can I at least have my body while I’m talkin’ witcha? This whole outta body experience is fuckin’ with my head.”

REQUEST: GRANTED.

At first, nothing, then suddenly Angel found his body back on him. His human body. He touched his face, felt his hair, and ran his hands down from the top of his head to his hips. It was like a sudden rush of nostalgia. “It’s… me…” he breathlessly sighed. “Still feels weird now without the extra arms.”

RESPONSE: CORRECT.

“Hey, how bout I see who you are, eh? Ya the big G? God?”

REQUEST: DENIED. ANSWER: IT’S COMPLICATED. ANSWERS REGARDING THE TOPIC OF IDENTITY LIMITED.

“...Boo…” Angel stuck his thumb down and blew a raspberry.

ASSESSMENT: VIRTUES OUTWEIGH SINS, GREY AREA TOTAL SCORE. CHOICE OFFERED.

Angel rested a hand on his hip, arching an eyebrow. “What’re my options here? If I ain’t allowed in Heaven.”  

OPTIONS: REINCARNATION AS HELLBORN DEPENDENT ON SINS, OR TRY AGAIN. SECOND CHOICE RARE. RECORD OF SOULS OFFERED THAT OPTION; THREE.

Reincarnation as a Hellborn? The reality shook Angel to his very essence. It felt familiar. When he first died as a human, he woke up in Hell with no memory of the process. But he recalled feeling at ease with the judgment, like it was all a part of something bigger, before forgetting everything. A perpetual wheel of essence being pulled from the ether and replaced. But try again was a tempting offer. Far too tempting. He squinted, pointing up to no one in particular. “What’s the catch if I pick option two?”

ANSWER: ONE-TIME OFFER. BODY STILL ALIVE. LOCATED AT ST. AN’S. HAVE YOU MADE YOUR CHOICE?

“No duh, I’m pickin’ option two, big guy! I still wanna kiss Husk in his stupid face!”

…RESPONSE: TMI. VERY WELL, ANTHONY. MAKE THE MOST OF IT. GOODBYE FOR NOW.

“Hey wait! I still got a lot more questio—!” Angel Dust’s voice abruptly cut out, all that was left was the void and the deafening thrum of a heart-beat monitor. 

Charlie huddled her knees to her chin while seated on a chair, watching Angel’s limp body. His vitals were steady, but faint. She had taken it upon herself to take him to the only hospital willing ot give a shit. Though it was a bit of a struggle to convince them to allow a sinner to stay. The guitar and her authority was enough convincing, thankfully. The backlash from Belphagor will have to wait, last time Charlie tried to bring a non-Hellborn to St. An’s, the perpetually sleepy goat blinked! Twice! She checked her phone, several missed calls to her father. He must be really busy right now to avoid answering.

Dr. Tine hopped on a stool to hold a stethoscope to Angel’s chest, the instrument slightly sunk into the fluff.. He hemmed and hawed. “Breathing faint but there. The implants might be in the way.”

“Implants?” Charlie questioned. “Oh, those. He has breast implants, though don’t tell him I told you.”

The goat nodded, lifting the covers to inspect Angel’s legs. Or lack thereof. After taking him to the hospital she did bring along his detached legs, but by that time it was too late to have them reattached, and the doctors were more focused on trying to find blood to transfuse since their stock was all blackened Hellborn ichor. Just above his knees were stumps, a permanent reminder of his sacrifice. Charlie winced seeing the bloodied bandages, even if he were to blow up and ‘respawn’, it would be without his legs. That was the truth of Angelic Steel: injuries are permanent, and scars are absolute.

“Hey…” Angel weakly wheezed, “Peep-shows cost extra, bud…”

Dr. Tine gasped, slamming a button on the wall to call in a few nurses. “Patient recovering from coma!”

Charlie restrained herself from lunging forward to hug the spider. “Angel! You’re alive!” she blubbered, clasping her hands beneath her chin and her eyes wide and sparkly.

“Yeah…guess I am…” he sighed, resting his head back, and his eyes darting down as he wiggled his stumps. From a distance, Charlie could see they were no longer mismatched, the back and red left eye now similar to his right eye. “I ain’t gonna let Vaggie live this down. I saved her ass in return for my legs.” He smirked. “Where is she anyway?”

“I had her escort Velvette back to the hotel.”

“Velvette?”

“Oh! You don’t know!”

Charlie began getting into who Violet really was, what was going on, and why Vox and Valentino had those creepy machines resembling Lute. Then she got into the plan they had concocted to screw Valentino and Vox out of their soul contracts, everything now belonged to Velvette; the district, VoxTek as a whole. More importantly, she is now the legal owner of Angel Dust’s soul, and if Violet was how she truly was as a person, she would treat him right if not outright free him. Angel lay there, gobsmacked at everything while the bustling nurses checked his vitals. No more Valentino giving him black eyes, no more late-night snuff porn shoots, no more turning his orifices into an onahole, no more of Valentino’s filthy-ass cigarette smoke! He was free!

The whole situation of how Lute might be dealing with Violet being Velvette and the fact that there were still an innumerable number of Lutebots still active as some creep’s harem or bodyguard came to mind. That might put a hamper on how things will play out between them. Then again, Lute did commit genocide in the past, so, they both have shit to work through.

“If those two make up, I can already see scissors…” Angel paused, then smirked. “Ya think Velvette’s able ta give herself a schlong with her powers?”

“Angel!” Charlie giggled. “Maybe? Her whole thing is body and clothing modification as a doll. They still have to confess their feelings.”

“Sappy shit, gotcha.”

The princess crossed her arms, leaning in with an amused pout. “What about you and Husk?”

Angel returned the pout, a pink blush appearing on his cheeks.

Velvette stood outside the hotel’s walls, off to the side. She waited, checking her phone for the time. She returnd in her Violet disguise to not alarm Lute not anyone who didn’t know her identity. The last thing she needed was Husk or Cherri Bomb turning this into a cliche’d mini-brawl over mistaken identity. Footsteps approached, she looked up to see Alastor sauntering into view, twirling his cane. Just the demon she wanted to see.

“They safe?” she asked.

“Oh, quite safe, the tower evacuated and your faithful Hellborn assistant home with a pat on the back,” Alastor replied, smirking smugly. “Now, about payment.”

“Yeah, yeah, snip the memory of your little owner out of my mind and be done with it,” Velvette snapped.

Alastor chuckled. “And?”

Right, Velvette also promised something else. She began tapping on her phone, sending a file to his hotel-supplied Bee Phone. He quickly checked his messages, grinning widely at the video files appearing in his inbox. He never really liked modern tech, but for this? He would make quite the exception. To assure its quality, he opened it and was greeted to Vox’s security footage of his office, the exact moment Velvette clocked him in the face with that final blow. A bonus also had Charlie turning Valentino into a walking funeral pyre.

Alastor suppressed a cackle through his teeth, but couldn't help himself. “Bahahaha!!! Wonderful! Absolute cinema!“

A large, round-bodied shadow in overalls approached, puffing a cigar. “Work’s done, boss,” he said in a very thick Boston accent. The repairs done to the lobby were complete in record time. He tugged up his overalls, an eye peeking out beneath his large brow up at Alastor. “That’ll be all?”

“Yes, my good man, your services were very much appreciated,” Alastor replied, snapping his fingers. The shadow and presumably the rest of the crew vanished with a fizz of radio static. “Now, for that memory…” He cracked his fingers, then twisted side-to-side with very audible cracks.

Velvette closed her eyes and felt her forehead get bopped with the Radio Demon’s cane. As it retracted, a crackle of red static connected the two and absorbed into the cane, the eye embedded on the base of the microphone pulsing with a heartbeat, then closed. She stumbled a bit, placing a hand to her forehead, and opened her eyes. “Where am I…? The fuck am I doin’ out here?” Just like that, her memory was altered as part of her deal with Alastor, for all she knows her deal with him was just to send him the video of Vox’s defeat in exchange for getting everyone out of the tower safely. The fashionista slapped her face twice, trying to psyche herself up. She had to tell Lute! She had to confess! If she didn’t, then Vaggie or Charlie would most certainly do it for her, or worse if Angel Dust didn’t come back alive. Even with two sets of Overlord-level souls, she was no match for the princess’s fury. Or the spear of Angelic Steel from her girlfriend.

She marched in through the doors, passing by Husk and Cherri.

“Goin’ to my room,” Velvette stated bluntly.

Husk blinked, but didn’t pay her any mind while nursing a flask. He and Cherri were too entranced in the explanation of what happened out there. Vaggie left out the details with Velvette for later, but didn’t hide the fact that Angel was recovering in a Sloth ring hospital. Husk took a large swig, the liquid inside his container sloshing from trembling hands. That gut feeling was on point…

Velvette continued her way upstairs using the refurbished staircase and continued until she was at the end of a hall where her room sat opposite Lute’s. She hovered her knuckles over Lute’s door, biting her lip. “Fuck… why does this feel harder than it needs to be…?” she whined. “Whenever I try doin’ something hard, I usually have Brass walk me through the steps… I need to give that girl a fuckin’ raise for puttin’ up with my emotional baggage.”

She huffed and decided to just go for it then knocked.

Lute’s tired voice came from the other side, “In a minute…!” Footsteps approached the door, and it slowly creaked open. The angel’s tired eyes instantly brightened when she saw Violet, breaking into a giddy smile. She retreated back into her room to don her Loop disguise then immediately swung the door open and knelt down, pulling Velvette into a hug. “Violet! You’re okay!”

Velvette’s breath hitched in her throat, just accepting the hug. This was foreign territory. It did feel nice, though, but had the stinging undercurrent of the reality she was going to face in most likely losing that feeling forevermore. She reached up and returned the hug, trying to make the most of it. “Sorry I missed all the ‘fun’ here, Loop.”

They hugged like this for a solid minute, both of them a churning pot of emotions and confessions. Over each other’s shoulders, their faces were blank.

What now? How do I do this? They both thought at the same time.

Velvette was the first to break the hug, forcing a small smile while looking up at Lute. Lute did the same, her smile half-resembling a smirk with how forced it was.

“I need to confess—” they both spoke in unison, “—oh no, you go first—”

A brief pause.

“My name isn’t Loop, it’s Lute.”

“My name isn’t Violet, it’s Velvette.”

After another brief pause, they began confessing their true identities. Again, in unison.

“I’m the former Lieutenant of the Exorcists!”

“I’m the former third of The Vees!”

“I was a genocidal angel!”

“I’m an Overlord!”

Lute looked more confused, then even more confused when she noticed Violet wasn’t at all recoiling from the information she provided. Wait… Velvette. That name rang a bell for her, one of the youngest Overlords the Pride Ring has seen and part of the media/entertainment conglomerate VoxTek. That same Velvette who relished in social media, making and selling fashion. Self-proclaimed #QueenBitch.

Before Lute could speak again, Violet’s form shifted into that of Velvette. Still short. “Well… this is me, the real me…” Velvette gulped, “The height’s real, been lyin’ to myself about that for a few years now.” She gave a self-deprecating, bitter chuckle.

“...”

“Those machines that invaded the hotel were partially my fault,” Velvette admitted, shuffling uncomfortably. “When Vox found out about you, he saw an easy payday and used me to gather data on you… It started out as ‘whatever’ for me, but I actually liked hanging out with you. I liked being around you. Made me feel like I can be myself. But because of me, Vox sold your likeness to thousands and made a personal army using Adam’s guitar to control them! He then tryin’ to kidnap you and sign your soul up using the hotel as a bargaining chip.”

Velvette waited for a response for a short beat, but continued.

“I’m so sorry…!” she choked, tears streaming down her face. “I understand if you hate me, I hate myself every fucking day for what I did! I know it may be too late now but if it helps I did fuck over VoxTek and became the sole owner, no more Lutebots are ever gonna be produced.”

Lute slowly pried the mouthpiece from her face and without thinking, grabbed Velvette by one of her pigtails and tugged her in for a deep kiss. Velvette’s eyes widened, but she didn’t fight back, confusion overtaking her sorrows. The kiss grew rougher, a tongue slipping past her lips and wrestling against hers. Lute, satisfied with the kiss, released it to gaze into Velvette’s eyes with the intensity of a lioness, with the intensity of an Exorcist.

Velvette gulped, still reeling from the kiss. “ D-...Do you—?”

Lute took a few moments to think, on one hand Velvette betrayed her trust and nearly got everyone hurt or killed, but at the same time, Lute did the same shit but more direct. “I forgive you… I have no room to judge,” Lute whispered softly, “I’ve killed so many sinners in my fruitless crusades my hand may as well be dyed red. I’m a murderer, simple as that.” Her brow furrowed, tugging Velvette’s pigtail upwards to get her to look into Lute's eyes directly, the old her seeping through a little. “But try that shit on me again and I’ll end you. After I’m done getting all my feelings out on you, you are gonna tell me every fucking detail!”

There was that tough-as-nails warrior Velvette first idolised. “Deal!” She grinned, then felt her lips become assailed by Lute’s again, though deeper and rougher with an arm draped around her body. She melted into the embrace, returning the favour with her own tongue and lips.

“Wait!” Lute pulled from the kiss, grasping Velvette’s shoulder. “Did you say Adam’s guitar?!”

“Uhm… It’s safe in Charlie’s office, at least until she can get it sent back to Heaven.”

Lute breathed a heavy sigh of relief, out of everyone in the hotel she could trust with that thing, it would have to be Charlie. She didn’t even trust herself with it. She still remained slightly on guard about it; that guitar was too special to be kept in Hell. It was only a miracle that Vox was too much of an idiot to recognise the potential of the holy instrument. The angel reached down and wrapped her arm around Velvette’s waist then carried her underarm. Lute strolled over to Velvette’s room and knocked six times from left to right three times. It opened after a brief pause, the handy little signal Lute learned to open doors without a key by alerting Keekee. Velvette looked stunned the whole time, but didn’t fight it as her limbs dangled.

While she was literally carried like a purse, she caught sight of Vaggie standing in the hall, having witnessed the whole exchange, trying not to laugh. The door shut, giving the two women some much-needed privacy to discuss how things would be going forward.

Chapter Text

“Good morning, Heaven! I’m Lucy Lovejoy!” a cheerful woman greeted from a projected screen. She was wearing a comfy green sweater and had raven black hair held back by a headband.

“And I’m Patriot Pete!” an imposing soldier with a helmet covering his eyes waved. He was wearing a suit with the sleeves ripped to expose his biceps, dog tags proudly displayed over the tie, and an ace of spades proudly tied into his helmet.

Lucy adjusted a pile of papers. “We are approaching the end of the week regarding the thrilling trial of Lilith Morningstar! According to public record information, she has passed the Minos Test with flying colours! All we need now is to hear the final verdict from our impartial and mighty judge, Saint Michael! If all goes well, Lilith and Lucifer may return to Hell as a happy couple once more!”

“You got that right, beautiful!” Pete nodded, Lucy blushed and tucked her head into the neckhole of her sweater. “It just fills ya with joy to see a pair of lovers finally gettin’ to solidify their marriage! Lucifer! If you’re hearin’ this, I salute you! Best of luck!” The soldier gave a full military salute.

Lucifer blinked, witnessing this news broadcast from the waiting room of the court with his wife and Sera. Everyone else had already given their testimonies and were now ordered to attend only in the gallery like everyone else. “Huh… never seen a soldier look like that before,” he commented, “So… soldiers don’t normally have a red band on their arm?”

Sera pursed her lips, clearing her throat. She had almost forgotten he was used to the worst of humanity and most likely saw Nazis more than allied troops. “No, no, they do not.”

The door creaked open, and Uriel stepped inside the room. “Well, only a few minutes until we begin with the theatrics…” He lumbered past Sera with his wings drooping towards the water cooler.

“Is everything alright, Uriel?” Sera asked with concern, “What do you mean by theatrics?”

Uriel held up a finger, then poured himself a cup of water through an uncomfortable silence. Rather than drink it, he splashed himself in the face and dragged his hand up his face and through his hair. “The short of it is this trial shouldn’t even be happening with this major oversight, but we have to go through with it for the sake of a paper trail and public opinion.”

“Oh wow, Heaven overlooking details, who could have seen that coming?” Lucifer grumbled, crossing his arms and slouching back in his seat. Lilith gently patted his head with gentle shushes. “

“Yeah, I’m with Lucifer on this one,” the High Seraphim said, “I’ve combed the paperwork from cover to cover. What is it we’re missing?”

Uriel arched an eyebrow at her actually siding with the devil. But she did deserve to know. “Part of the treaty involving Adam. It’s connected with Lilith’s deal with him.”

“Yes, the one that states that Heaven would not allow harm to come to Hellborn during the Exterminations.”

“...Dazzle…” Lucifer sighed. “I created him and Razzle for Charlie to keep her safe. Lute ended up killing him. And then Adam…—the prick— tried killing her. I barely remember the treaty. But yeah, Adam and Lute broke it.”

“By extension, you did too, Your Highness,” Uriel added with a scowl aimed at Sera, “for allowing the Extermination date to be moved up and allowing Adam to do what he wanted.”

Sera contemplated the implications, her eyes opening up and halo blazing brightly. “Lilith should have been in Hell months ago!” She swivelled and leaned down to Lilith. “Why didn’t you say anything?!”

“Did you ever answer my calls?” Lilith countered. “I tried getting in contact with you or Emily, but my calls always seemed to be ‘mysteriously’ cut off.”

“I only let him do what was necessary to keep Heaven safe…” Sera knew this was a lie the moment it left her lips. “No… you’re right. I’ve been too complacent in my role in all this. The best I can do is make up for my errors and… atone.”

“Atone?” Lucifer chuckled, pointing a shaking finger. “You? Atone? Miss ‘I know what’s best for Heaven’ wants to atone?”

“Mon cheri…” Lilith soothed.

“Lily, because of her!” His point became stiffer and accusatory. “Because of her, our daughter had the weight of all this bullshit put on her shoulders! She came up here with the best intentions, and Sera could only look away and let Adam try to kill her and demolish our home!” He stood up, stomping towards Sera as his temper finally blew its top. “This shit is why Michael should have become High Seraphim instead of you, Sera! He at least had the balls to make the hard choices in the face of his own peers! He could easily smote me with Gabriel, Raphael, and even Uriel telling him to do so! But he chose to just banish me from Heaven WITH my wife. But now we’ve got crazy Exorcists led by some bitch who doesn’t exist hiding in Hell with a HEAVEN-MADE superweapon! Charlie deserves better than the stress this place gives her!”

“Please stop reminding me of my most undignified moment… but fair…” Uriel coughed quietly.

Sera didn’t argue, she let Lucifer finally unload all his pent up anger towards her. He was right, this verbal lashing was a long time coming. “I should have listened to Charlie, you’re right. Sir Pentious is proof that sinners can become redeemed and worthy of Heaven’s grace. I am proof that… Heaven needs a better authority…”

Lucifer’s wrathful glare held on Sera, searching for any sign of disengenuousness.

The door knocked, one of Michael’s cherubs opened it without waiting for a response. She clapped his hooves together. “Alright! Showtime!” The cherub floated in the doorway, watching the odd scene in front of her. Lucifer is on his tiptoes to try and get as much in Sera’s face as possible, Lilith is with her hand to her forehead, and Uriel is giving the cherub a bemused stare. “Bad time?”

Uriel groaned, pointing with his thumb to Lucifer. “Yes, for Heaven’s sakes, let’s get this done and over with so this knucklehead can be out of my hair…”

“I’ll catch up in a minute, I just need to review my paperwork,” Sera said, stepping away from Lucifer to a table with her folder full of notes and documents. Everyone began filing out towards the courtroom room leaving the High Seraphim alone with her thoughts. She opened the folder and scribbled something down, closing it with a grim expression. There was no going back, her mind was made up and resolute with nothing but certainty and guilt for the ramifications of her impending decisions. “I’m sorry, Emily, but this is for the betterment of Heaven… and Hell…” She picked up the folder and slowly walked out of the waiting room.

Lute’s eyes snapped open, feeling a weight against her chest. She surveyed her surroundings. Violet’s room. Well, more accurately, Velvette’s room. The angel recalled their talk into the night, finally getting their true feelings out in the open with a long talk until they passed out. It was official between them that they were now in a relationship. It all felt so surreal. If Lute even considered that future for herself as an Exorcist, she would have committed herself to nothing but toilet duty in the barracks with her teeth until the porcelain was shinier than Heaven’s toilets usually were. She finally checked the weight on her chest. Velvette’s head was resting there, her pigtails undone and hair splayed out in curly locks, she was still asleep and snoring peacefully.

Lute conceded not disturbing Velvette until the diminutive Overlord either woke up or moved. Kind of adorable how she was cuddled up to Lute in a weird sort of way, as if she craved that level of companionship in someone she could confide in. Velvette shifted slightly, pressing herself closer. Lute slightly stiffened at an odd hard sensation against her ribs, her eyes darted down to where it came from. “Oh wow… they are pierced,” she whispered, looking back at her own chest. “Hm…” she looked back at Velvette’s, then hers for a good few seconds before pouting. “And bigger.”

She was tempted to reach over and feel them, and have her fingers sink in. Her hand recoiled when Velvette stirred, propping herself up with her forearms. “Fuck… I felt like I just binged a whole Pitflix documentary…” she groaned, letting herself drop down again face-down onto Lute’s belly. She paused, turning her head to meet Lute’s flustered glare. She tiredly smiled. “Mornin’!”

“...Morning,” Lute replied, “H-Hey!” she gulped, watching Velvette nuzzle into her exposed belly, pulling her shirt down, unintentionally covering her new girlfriend’s head underneath with her belly. “S-Stop, that tickles! Stohohohop!” She wiggled, trying to get up. Having had enough of Velvette’s morning antics, she reached down and grasped the collar of her pajamas, lifting her like a disobedient kitten. “...Is that a fucking onesie?”

“What? It’s comfy! 100% cotton.” Velvette chuckled. She was dressed in a full-body onesie peppered with devil heart emojis, it cut off at her ankles and wrists with a button holding it up behind her neck. She struck a pose, arching her back and lacing her fingers beneath her chin with a cheeky wink. “And I look bloody fabulous as always.” Velvette grinned seeing Lute’s golden blush, being held up like that tightened the outfit leaving little to the imagination of her curves. Lute grumbled, dropping her. “Oomph!” Velvette rolled onto her back, stretching. “So, what’s the plan for today?”

“Charlie usually has a daily schedule for workshops. But with her looking after the pornstar looks like it’s going to be ‘trust exercises’ with Vaggie. Also, we kinda still need to talk to everyone about…” Lute gestured to Velvette. “You. Dunno how Cherri and Husk will take it, they’re still worried sick about Angel and you might take some heat for it.” She cleared her throat. “Ok, a lot of heat… but they’ll get used to you in no time. They got used to me, and I tried to kill them directly!”

“No offense, babe, but I don’t have anythin’ on me compared to you that would let them take it easy on me. I’m just lucky Charlie didn’t kick me out on my arse, just gotten everythin’ moved in.”

Lute made a face between contemplative and mild offense. Velvette was right, though, Lute was a rape victim and has the cauterized remains of her wings as proof of her ordeal. But the gang at the hotel didn’t know the full story until recently and they eventually warmed up to her anyway. “So what’s the plan with all your soul contracts?”

“Rebrand VoxTek and hire ‘em for cash and protection. Only this time with proper HR. Been keepin’ a mental note of everything I could change. First thing to go is ‘VoxTek’. Still workshopping the name.” Velvette swiped left, her hair shrinking back into her head into the buzzcut mohawk. “How does Red Velvet Media sound?” she asked, hoping to get some input from Lute. She swiped again, her onesie briefly vanishing off to the side, leaving her nude, cycling through outfits. She saw Lute covering her eyes, blushing. “Take a peek,” she teased, “You get the 100% off deal.” A pillow slammed against her body. “Hehehe!”

“Hardy-har-har…!” Lute fake-laughed, still in her follow-through. She swung her legs off the side of the bed and stood, patting down any wrinkles on her black pajama t-shirt. “Be serious a moment, we really need to get our shit together and tell everyone here who doesn’t know, which is only two people but still.” Her expression softened a little, thinking about Velvette’s rebranding suggestion. “Red Velvet Media does sound good.”

“Glad ya like it!” Velvette was now in her full Violet disguise, even down to the punk outfit she first met Lute in. She held up a finger. “Want me to give ya an outfit change?”

Lute instinctively covered her chest with her forearm and lifted a leg defensively. “Nuh-uh! You don’t get to see my goods until you earn them!”

“C’mooooon!”

“Nope!”

“Pwease?”

“Negatory.”

“Pretty please with a cherry on top?”

“Nuh-uh!” Lute prepared another pillow to toss.

Velvette swiped her finger, but nothing happened to Lute’s clothes; her hair had become neatly combed and styled into her signature bobcut. She felt her hair, soft, silky, perfectly uniform. Still long from the lack of cutting but damn if it didn’t look and feel good, especially with her bangs parted just right to frame her face and not obscure her vision. Lute checked her body for anything amiss, patting every inch within reach suspiciously. No changes. She rested her hand on her hip with a flip of her hair, still clutching the pillow as a backup.

“See? I can respect boundaries,” Velvette giggled. “Maybe a little more than you since ya tried copping a feel,” she teased Lute by grasping her own chest.

“...Touche…”

Angel Dust crossed all of his arms and scoffed from his hospital bed. “Ain’t no way I’m leavin’ in that thing!” He turned his nose up at a wheelchair presented to him. He lost his legs, but he didn’t want to lose his dignity too coming back to the hotel. “Cherri’ll never let me hear the end of it!”

“Please?” Charlie pleaded. “You can’t exactly use crutches as stilts…!”

“Watch me!”

“We did,” Dr. Tine deadpanned. He still couldn’t get the memory of Angel parading down the sterile halls using a pair of crutches for legs. If anything, it made the spider look like a cursed internet image bouncing around. “The psyche ward needed to be given extra weed to calm down after seeing that. It’s either the wheelchair or the board with wheels if you’re so inclined.” His voice was lazy, yet forceful.

Angel glared at the small goat demon, as if trying to make him back down and just give the damn crutches instead. Charlie held the handles of the wheelchair, uneasily looking between them. “Please, Angel? It’s already paid for…” she pleaded once again, “Everyone’s worried about you, and you wouldn’t want to make them wait longer to see you safe?” He didn’t look too convinced, but Angel did finally look Charlie in the eyes, seeing that puppy-dog pout. He resisted as best he could, trying to close his eyes and look away once more. He… couldn’t… resist…

“Gah! Fine! Just stop starin’ at me with them big ol’ eyes! Skooch it back and lemme sit my ass down.” He grunted, using his arms to acrobatically propel himself onto the seat with a slight bounce, crossing his bandaged thumps of thighs in a habitual attempt at crossing his legs and crossing his arms grumpily. “Stupid puppy-dog pout…”

“My last resort!” Charlie giggled. “Let’s get back to the hotel in time for breakfast! I called ahead and had Niffty whip up a genuine Italian breakfast.”

“I swear ta God if it’s spaghetti or pizza—”

“Brewed coffee and a croissant with a side of freshly baked biscuits!”

“...Ok, you did your research,” Angel chuckled, relaxing. Freedom from Valentino, a taste of home back in the safest place in Hell. He let his mind drift while Charlie wheeled him out the door of his room, followed closely behind by Dr. Tine ready to bleat a portal into existence at the exit of the hospital. A few nurses and doctors turned their heads to witness both the princess of Hell and a genuine sinner in the Sloth Ring. While Charlie’s authority is almost never respected or outright mocked in the Pride Ring, in the rest of Hell? She may as well be a celebrity. “Never seen a spider bein’ wheeled by a princess before?” Angel quipped at the gawking onlookers.

A figure stepped into view, nearly getting run over by Charlie pushing the wheelchair. They leapt back, then relaxed. Standing in front of them was a tall figure dressed in a red-lined dark purple suit with broad shoulders and coattails, collar popped obscuring their head. Green eyes peered down at Angel and Charlie. The spider’s eyes were wide with fear, seeing the silhouette of that bastard Valentino.

“Slow the fuck down, babe!” a gravely voice followed, Fizzarolli stepping around the corner with an extended leg in casual clothing and fake horns to disguise himself. “This is a hospital, ya big lug!” He gave the figure a gentle nudge with his shoulder.

“Sorry, sorry,” a smooth voice replied from the figure. “I just couldn’t wait to see them!”

“Uncle Ozzie…!” Charlie’s eyes sparkled, shivering with glee. Asmodeus gave a subtle wink to not blow his cover. Angel, meanwhile, just shrank back in his wheelchair, his head buried between his shoulders and trying not to be noticed.

“I’ll escort them from here, doc,” Asmodeus nodded to Dr. Tine. “I’m a close family friend of the princess.”

“You’re okay with this?” he asked Charlie who nodded excitedly. “Well, alright. Be sure to remind Lute to continue her prescription, by the way.” Dr. Tine took his leave to attend to other matters.

Angel Dust warily watched Charlie hug Asmodeus and then Fizzarolli. The name ‘Ozzie’ was familiar, but the look? Yeah, no, he just can’t get past how closely he resembled Valentino in that getup, especially the feathers and hat. Charlie and Asmodeus were whispering; he couldn’t hear much, but he did catch a few snippets.

“This him…?”

“Mhm!”

“Can I…?”

Oh God, this is it, I’m meeting my new pimp! Charlie, you Judas!

Asmodeus stepped closer. Angel flinched. The Sin reached into his suit and pulled out a notebook, holding it out with a deep bow of his head. “Can I have your autograph?” he asked excitedly.

“...What…?”

“Your autograph,” Fizz repeated, “He’s a big fan of yours.”

“Uh, sure?” Angel took the notebook and signed his name in large, curvy letters as ‘Angel Dust’, the T at the end swirling to underline the whole name. “Who am I makin’ this out to?”

“Asmodeus.”

Angel continued to write, mouthing out his writing, “Thanks for bein’ a fan, Asmodeus… Asmodeus… Asmodeus…”

It finally clicked, he had heard of The Sin of Lust. One of the big honchos of Hell, and here he was in disguise to ask for HIS autograph! Angel’s jaw slackened, and he pointed with several jabs at the air to Asmodeus while looking back and forth between the Sin and Charlie. Words seemed to come out as stunned gasps.

“You can freak out when we’re outta here,” Asmodeus sniggered, holding up his wrist and pulling his sleeve up to reveal an Asmodean Crystal on his forearm. He held it down to Fizz, who gave it a gentle yet oddly sensual kiss, a portal shimmering like gemstones opening up. Charlie pushed the still stunned Angel through, followed by Asmodeus and Fizz.

Chapter Text

The courtroom was packed, angels from the public and higher ranks all in attendance to witness what should be a historic trial outcome. Michael sighed. He always hated large crowds, which made him feel claustrophobic; an audience was no different to him than being at a festival surrounding him. Always staring with high expectations because of his status. Maybe it was because of the armor. He could just remove it for this trial to get comfortable, but it would draw too much attention away from the trial.

Lucifer, Lilith, Uriel, and Sera entered, taking their respective positions to begin the final hearing.

Michael inhaled and belted out in a deep, commanding voice to silence the gallery. “Order! We will now begin the final trial of Lilith Magne Morningstar!” He bangs his gavel, wings flaring and coating the room in a blue glow. “Sera, the documents.” The Archangel held out his massive, armored hand expectantly.

The high Seraphim’s wings flapped and extended, her body floating up to Michael while clutching the documents close against her chest. She handed the folder to Michael and floated back down by the Morningstars. Her breath was shaky. Her eyes scanned the gallery, looking for Emily just so she could be sure the younger Seraphim was here. There, tucked in a balcony with Pentious, Molly, and February. Abel was nowhere to be found, maybe somewhere else within the crowd.

Michael began reading the documents closely. “Uriel, can you verify the integrity of the test results?”

“Without a shadow of a doubt, Your Honor, Lilith is clear. However… we shouldn’t even be having this trial to begin with?”

“Explain.” Michael placed the papers aside and leaned in. 

Uriel cleared his throat, snatching up a cup of water to splash his face with, it instantly evaporated upon contact with his scalding alabaster skin. He was nervous. “As all should be aware, prior to the Exterminations, Lilith had been taken into Heaven’s custody as collateral for the uneasy treaty. The terms were that no Hellborn would be harmed.”

Uriel paused for everyone to process this.

“During the final Extermination, Adam and his second-in-command, Lute, not only violated that treaty. But knowingly did so. Why he would let the treaty become null despite knowing so is beyond us, but the bottom line is that a Hellborn was killed. A demonic goat by the name of Dazzle. Furthermore, even if Dazzle wasn’t a casualty alongside our first ever Redeemed, Sir Pentious, the treaty was null the moment Adam attacked Charlie Magne Morningstar. In fact, I’d argue the moment Adam declared his intent to attack the hotel in front of Sera and Emily, the treaty was broken.”

The gallery erupted in hushed murmurs, Emily staring at her elder sister with a worried expression. Sera bowed her head, unable to look Emily in the eye. A slam of the gavel silenced the court once more.

“These are… serious implications, Uriel,” Michael thoughtfully began, “This would mean we owe the Morningstars some serious reparations.”

“I have a suggestion,” Sera spoke, breaking the silence. “I’m sorry for speaking out of turn. Please, read the final page of the documents I have provided, Your honor.”

Suspicious and curious, Michael cycled through the papers until he arrived at the final page. His eyes darted from letter to letter, then again. He couldn’t believe what he was reading, but Sera stood confidently, though terrified. This was a look he hadn’t seen since The Flood. Michael hesitated to read out the piece. “Are you sure?”

“What’s going on?” Lucifer asked, looking around the court. “What’s she done this time?”

“Sera…?” Emily whimpered, knowing that guilt-ridden look. She was actually going through with this.

Sera floated up to the middle of the room, just below the giant scrying orb that illuminated below her, casting her shadow over the roof. Her body projected itself onto every screen in the crowded city streets, anxious to witness the outcome of the trial. “Denizens of Heaven, in light of the events, I have taken it upon myself to reevaluate my place in Heaven. I know it has been difficult to find out about the yearly Exterminations that I had signed off on, and it goes deeper than this. I have put Heaven at significant risk with my lack of action to keep Adam in check, thus leading to the end of the treaty between Heaven and Hell. Just because I have been your High Seraphim since time immemorial, that does not mean that I am above judgment and consequences. I have sinned. I have committed the sin of sloth in my inaction, and the sin of pride in my hubris, denying the proof that sinners can change before Sir Pentious.”

Her solemn gaze locked eyes with Emily, who was weeping, knowing what was coming. 

“This is why I am stepping down as High Seraphim, and I grant that title to Saint Michael, the Archangel. My younger sister, my dearest sister… You will take over my estate and continue making Heaven the paragon of good will. As my final act as High Seraphim, I am officially banishing myself from Heaven and confining myself to Hell until I have deemed myself worthy to return. It has been a pleasure being your High Seraphim. I love you all.”

A heavy silence hung as Sera’s words sank in. Then… chaos.

“No…!” Emily cried out.

“What are you thinking?!” Lucifer exclaimed. “Sera stop fucking with us! You don’t have to Fall to make a point!”

“Mon dieu…” Lilith gasped.

Uriel and Michael exchanged worried glances.

The gallery was erupting with concerned screams, as was Heaven as a whole. The high Seraphim had Fallen.

“Order! Order!” Michael slammed his gavel, but the chaos was still deafening, his fist clenched, breaking the handle. “SILENCE!” His voice was like a torrent of echoes, reverberating within the soul and essence of every being within hearing range. The whole of Heaven shook, then shuddered in silence. “Thank you.” He directed his attention back to Sera. “Are you sure about this? Truly sure?”

“Yes, Your Honor,” Sera answered, Emily launching herself out from the gallery to cling to her sister, crying into her dress. Sera gently laid her hand on Emily’s hair, stroking it comfortingly.

“...Very well… by the power invested in me. I hereby declare Lilith not guilty and fit to return to Hell. However, as for you, Sera, while you are in Hell, I request that you become a guest at Charlie Magne Morningstar’s hotel for your safety. During your stay, I am allowing Emily and anybody she deems fit to visit you. Are these terms acceptable?”

Sera gazed down at Emily, who was still crying. She couldn’t deny her sister that. “I accept.”

“Any objections to these terms?” Michael stared around the room, stopping at Lucifer.

Lucifer sighed, rubbing his temples. “No objections… thought you’ll have to run this all by Charlie as well, she actually owns the hotel.”

“Understood. Court dismissed.” Michael grasped the broken end of the gavel and brought it down.

“Mommy…?” an Imp toddler whined, clutching her mother. She was confused why her father was bound to a chair, and why they had been held aside with zip-ties that stung like piano wire digging into flesh. Rogue Exorcists were crowding the ransacked living room of a modest suburban home in Imp City, all of them still searching for something.

The mother instinctively hugged her child, tears of fear dripping below.

Fuse hummed, stalking the chair in circles. “You owe us information, Henry,” she sighed. “You do know what a debt is, right? I’m sure your kind is used to that word by now, but I actually care about getting them paid. I scratch your back and you scratch mine!” Fuse jovially splayed her arms, her stitched mask sneering with contempt. “So start squawking before I scrape your spine through your nape.”

“P-Please! I t-told you all I know…!” Henry gurgled through broken teeth. Cleet cracked her knuckles, looming over him. “He don’t live here no more! He only came by for Sinsmas with his ma and left!”

Cleet snorted. “Sinsmas, ya’ll demons got some weird names for some bullshit.”

“It’s true! We only had him for a week!”

A sharp punch to Henry’s face sent him reeling back into Cleet, who readjusted him to face Fuse again. “A week!?” Fuse growled. “You’re telling me that fucker was here a whole week last Christ mas and you didn’t think to try and get in contact?! Do you know how fucking difficult it was to get my hands on a pager that works both ways between Heaven and Hell, you ungrateful little shit?!” She began punching him again and again, blood and teeth flying side to side with every blow.

“Ghkk… Pleash…” Henry’s vision faded, only to be knocked back into reality with the next punch.

“Daddy!” the child screamed, pulling from her mother to leap up and feebly shoulder-check Fuse’s leg. That had no effect whatsoever, only serving to cause an uproar of laughter from the witnessing Exorcists. “Leave my daddy alone, you big bully!” she screamed, balling her tiny hands and hammering them into Fuse’s leg.

Fuse glared down with disgust, a measly Hellborn dared lay their hands on her. She raised her hand, and it ignited. The temptation to just incinerate this creature is overwhelming.

Her sneer twisted into a grin, directing her gaze to Cleet with a headnod gesture.

“Cute little thing,” Cleet chuckled, snatching the child by the tail in her large hand and holding her upside down. All bravery left the child, her wide yellow eyes staring in pure terror.

“D-Don’t…” Henry wheezed, “P-Please not my… daughter… not my wife…”

“Ugh, don’t be so cliche,” Fuse yawned, placing a finger on her chin. “Well… I guess a little cliche won’t do us any harm.” She snapped her fingers, and Cleet swung the child without hesitation full force into her mother like a mace. The child screamed in pain, her small yet sharp horns tearing chunks off of the mother with every repeated swing. “Start talking, Henry! While your wife has skin and your daughter has a skull!” 

The room was drowned in the weakening yelps of Henry’s wife, and the bawling of his daughter being used as a murder weapon.

“I’LL TALK!” he wailed, fighting against his restraints. “He’s taking a vacation at the Gluttony Ring! Just please stop!”

Fuse smirked, holding up her hand for her subordinate to stop the violence. Cleet cracked her neck and rolled her shoulder, unceremoniously dropping the barely conscious imp child with chipped horns and a crooked tail. “M-Mommy…?” she whined, crawling up to the still body and cuddling up to it for comfort. “Mommy….? I’m sorry… I’m sorry…”
 
“Gluttony… who runs that place again?” Fuse grumbled. “Beelzebub? Ugh, that’s like… two rings down…” The sadistic angel shot an irritated glance at the sobbing father. “Oh fucking shut up, she’s still breathing. All right, girls! We’re done here!” She summoned her trident, pressing the prongs against Henry’s throat. “Remember, you were robbed by a random sinner. Got it? We were never here.”

He was too busy sobbing to reply.

“Got it?” Fuse repeated aggressively, jabbing her weapon just enough to break skin and draw black blood. “Answer me now, you tomato-looking lizard liquorice gusher!”

Henry nodded rapidly. “Y-Yes, Acli—” Fuse clamped his jaw shut with her hand.

“Finish that name and I’ll melt your mouth shut…” 

Satisfied with her interrogation, Fuse signalled for everyone to move out through the back door, not even giving a second thought for the atrocity she had just committed. “Grab anything edible from the kitchen, girls, I am not eating Pit Crab for dinner again!” Fuse stomped through to the kitchen where the back door was, her entourage picking the place clean. She snatched an odd-colored apple from the fruit basket, the skin purple, and took a bite. Her grumpy face lightened up. “Hm, not bad, could make a good pie— Sally! Check the fucking expiry date on those cans before you bag them!” she barked at a sheepish Exorcist who nodded, stuffing cans of food from a pantry into her bag.

Cleet fell behind on the group, watching the tiny imp shudder with sobs against her barely breathing mother. The burly angel looked down at her hands. How many sinners had her hands crushed? She couldn’t even count them all, but Hellborn? A child no less. That was a first. Why did she actually obey that command? She shouldn’t even feel this way, but when around Fuse, all sense of empathy and restraint just dies. Cleet curled her fingers, trembling. So much rage and raw vitriol just exploded from every synapse in her brain, it wasn’t natural. Or rather, it’s too natural, like a poison in her blood.

Making sure no one was watching, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a pair of small green and red pills with a tree marking on a golden band between the two colors. “Here…” she mumbled, and tossed them down to the toddler, holding a finger to her mask’s lips and returning to meet up with the squad. This was the least she could do.

Chapter Text

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Velvette asked Lute from the top of the main stairwell, fidgeting with her mohawk.

“Better now than never…”

While they were both preparing to announce to Cherri and Husk Velvette’s identity, they had taken a pause to discuss the Lutebot situation. It was jarring, to say the least. Lute had a bunch of doppelgangers out there in Hell probably getting screwed by some slug-looking fatass in an alleyway and begging for it. The thought of it repulsed her. What if she were mistaken for a stray bot when out and about? Even with that cat-like disguise, she was too distinctive in appearance with her pale complexion and golden eyes.

Lute gave Velvette a reassuring pat on the back. “Seriously, better now than never. If we don’t, then Charlie will, or worse, Vaggie.”

“Mmm…” Velvette whined, pouting her bottom lip. “Can we get some coffee after this?”

“You’re in luck, the goblin made an Italian breakfast.” Velvette squinted, placing her hands on her belly. Lute stifled a laugh. “Not pasta or pizza. The genuine kind. If you get this done, I’ll even throw in—”

“Deal!”

Lute coughed; she didn’t even get to finish her bonus. “You didn’t even hear—”

“Don’t care, deal!”

“So you’re totally fine with a full session with me in my most revealing workout gear at the gym?”

“Yup! Girl, you know I’d supply you with the perfect fit!”

“Ok then.” Lute started walking ahead.

Velvette smirked, reaching her hand behind Lute in an attempt to spank, but her wrist felt like it had been caught in a vice by her girlfriend’s keen reflexes and strong grip. She nervously gulped, but was nonetheless aroused when Lute glared down with a menacing grin. The angel tutted, releasing her grip. “Step on me,” Velvette swooned.

Lute’s face switched instantly to confused. “...Wha?”

“Nothing! Let’s go!” Velvette nervously laughed, overtaking Lute down the stairs.

Lute picked up the pace to catch up with Velvette. Just in luck to see Husk pacing nervously with Cherri nursing a bottle of liquor she not-so-subtly pulled out of a nearby plant, particles of soil speckled on the bottle’s base and the floor. She looked disheveled, hungover, AND drunk. A tense atmosphere to be sure.

“Uhm… so…” Velvette cleared her throat to get their attention. No response from either.  They were too preoccupied with their own brand of worrying. “I have some important news. It’s about… well, The Vees.”

That got their attention.

“Those scumfuck assholes…” Husk growled, flexing his claws. “Because of them… Angel…”

“Fuck those three to double Hell!” Cherri slurred, hoisting up a middle finger to nobody with her free hand.

Velvette flinched. To be fair, she did play a part in this, they were right to be upset. But they would be positively furious if she let them find out through someone else. “So…about them, ehm… fun fact; did you know that they were sabotaged by one of their own?”

“That I can vouch for,” Vaggie added, stepping out from the dining room with a croissant being dipped into a cup of coffee. She was waiting nearby to either blurt out Velvette’s role or assist. Lute stepped down, giving Vaggie a curt headnod as a greeting. She returned it.

“Uh-huh…” Husk grunted. “Who?”

Velvette felt herself shivering and sweating, she never had any problem being the bad bitch on Sinstragram for billions, why was admitting the truth like this so fucking difficult?!

“I’m…Velvette.” She dropped her disguise.

A pair of portals opened up in the lobby, one shimmering like gemstones and another warbling with holy light. Lucifer, Lilith, and Sera stepped through the latter, with Asmodeus, Fizzarolli, Charlie and Angel Dust exiting the former.

“Daddy’s home with mommy!” Lucifer cheered.

“Angel’s home!” Charlie squeed, wheeling in Angel, who was still stunned after having to sign an autograph for Asmodeus.

“My, my, the place did get a heck of a touch-up!” Asmodeus commented, stretching as his body contorted and expanded into his true form, easily towering over everyone while his bright blue flames coated his head. “And roomy too!” Fizz stretched his robotic limbs to perch himself on Asmodeus’s shoulder, nuzzling his cheek.

The gathered groups stiffened, noticing each other.

“Your Highness?!” Lute screamed.

Sera meekly waved, carrying a single suitcase. “Hello, Lute…”

“Oh, uh, bt dubs, Sera’s gonna be staying with us. She’s Fallen, so I guess that’s something to lord over her until the end of time.” Lucifer gave his wife a soft kiss on the cheek.

“Mom!” Charlie hugged Lilith. “You’re home!”

Husk and Cherri both clung to Angel Dust. “N-Nice to see you too…!” His voice was strained with how they were hugging him.

“Wait… Velvette?” Husk released Angel, turning to glare at Velvette. “So because of you, Angel lost his legs? He nearly died because of you?!”

“Uhm… kind of? Vox wanted to have his cake and eat it too. I was only the data supplier.” Velvette tried not to let her nerves get the better of her. Of all fucking times to have to admit everything it had to be in front of the King and Queen with a Sin?! “I did help take down VoxTek though, and Angel’s not workin’ for Valentino. So… you’re welcome!”

“...I oughta slap the shit outta you,” Husk grumbled. “But ma’ told me to never lay my hands on a woman… unless it’s self-defense…”

“Please, allow me.” Cherri began stalking forward, a murderous glint in her eye.

“Grow up the both of ya!” Angel exclaimed, wheeling himself between them. “This broad did fuck up my chances at walkin’, but she also saved my ass from working with that piece of shit Val!” Husk and Cherri looked at the floor. If Angel was defending this Overlord despite the shit he went through it might be smart to not agitate him.

Asmodeus scoffed, hearing the name Valentino. “Ugh, that asshoe stole my disguise to try and look cool. Poser.”

“And your Fizzbot designs to make those…Lutebots?” Fizz leaned down to ask Charlie if that was right.

She nodded. “Oh yeah, his boyfriend, Vox, reverse-engineered a few imports and began selling them off.”

“I’mah gonna have to call my man Stolas for some legal paperwork,” Asmodeus ominously whispered.

While the group was mingling, Lute took Sera aside and began whisper-shouting. “What are you doing here? You? Fallen?! I can get why I’m here but you?!”

“It was only the right thing to do. Saint Michael will do what I could not, and that is to be impartial and see both sides of Hell and Heaven. If I stepped in to stop Adam he wouldn’t have died, he wouldn’t have put Heaven at risk by nullifying the treaty.”

“But Your Highness…”

Sera waved it off. “Don’t worry, I’ll be a guest here. It would be nice to get a first-hand experience as to how Charlie rehabilitates souls.” She smiled softly, lacing her fingers and cracking them. “Also, between you and me, I don’t envy the paperwork Saint Michael will be handling.”

“What…what was he like? Saint Michael? I did my research on him when I first joined the Exorcists and saw that he was the founder.”

“Emily calls him uncle.”

Lute placed a hand to her chest, letting out an instinctive ‘awh’. She blinked, the fuck did she just do now? Was Charlie’s positivity rubbing off on her that badly? “Your Highness…you didn’t see me do that.”

“My lips are sealed, and please, just call me Sera. If anything, you should be referring to that one as ‘Your Highness’ for your stay.” Sera gestured to Lilith. The queen was laughing uproariously at a joke Lucifer just told. The punchline sounded like something about Satan’s inferiority complex, all mimed out with shapeshifting, currently in the form of a midget with giant horns. “Or not, she sounds like a fun person.”

Velvette stepped in close. “Well, went better than I thought it would, Angel’s been vouchin’ for me.” She placed a hand by her cheek and whispered, “So, who's the big bird?”

“That’s the High Seraphim,” Lute awkwardly explained. “Please for the love of God don’t call her that…”

“Former High Seraphim,” Sera corrected, visibly amused. “Though I suppose in my true form I do look like a giant bird.”

“Oh shit…! I feel like a bloody toddler next to her!” The fashionista complained, resisting the urge to take a selfie. 

Sera looked down at the loud-mouthed sinner no higher than her knees. “Who might you be?”

“Name’s Velvette, former co-owner of VoxTek, current owner of Red Velvet Media… which is pending. I’m Lute’s girlfriend.”

“...Huh,” The Seraphim did not expect that last part. A wild curveball indeed.

“We made it official last night!” Velvette giggled. “I can be myself around her!”

“We’re taking it slow,” Lute added, noting Sera’s shocked expression. “I get it, you didn’t think someone with my rap sheet would ever fall for a sinner, that right?” Sera nodded slowly. “Yeah, I’d be banishing my own ass to Hell if I was the old me. But she’s great, and a bit of a dork.”

“Oi!”

“The good kind of dork, shortstack.”

Sera took on a softer tone than usual when addressing Lute. “Speaking of banishments… You were never officially kicked out of Heaven, I could put in a good word for you with Saint Michael. Well, on paper he’s now High Archangel Michael. He still refuses the ascension to Seraphim…”

“No thanks, I’m happy here,” Lute replied instantly, wanting to nip that in the bud. “It isn’t Heaven, but it’s fun. You missed the fun part where Cherri nuked the lobby.” She pointed with a thumb to Cherri Bomb, still fussing over Angel Dust with Husk.

“Big lady!” a smaller voice squeaked. Sera looked around for the source, then felt someone crawling up to her shoulder. “Big shiny lady!”

“Ooh! Oh my!” Sera yelped when Niffty’s eye was up close to her face.

“Niffty! No! Get down from there, you gremlin!” Lute barked, giving an assertive and firm point down with her arm raised. “Bad psycho! Down! Heel!”

“Big lady with junk in the trunk!” Niffty cackled, bouncing off into the dining room to continue cleaning. Sera was left bewildered at what the fuck just happened. She looked at her suitcase.

“I didn’t pack junk… I even brought my special Bible…”

Velvette stifled a chuckle, a gentle elbow from Lute shut her up. “Anyway, Your High— Sera. If you need help getting to your room, just ask Husk, the cat with poker symbols. He’s the desk clerk. That… creature was Niffty. She’s the maid, and yes, she’s the critter who killed Adam.” Lute took a moment to remember the rest of the staff. “Oh and Alastor’s the facilities manager, but don’t bother with him, he’s kind of a dick. Vaggie though will get shit done. And yes, you just heard me compliment her! Charlie, you already know.”

“...Her?” Sera was too distracted by the casual revelation that Niffty killed Adam. She had a vague memory of her during that sham trial where Adam revealed the Exterminations to the higher echelons. “That small one killed him?”

“Yup.”

Sera shuddered. That small cyclops not only touched her, but climbed her like some kind of jungle gym.

“If it ain’t the High Seraphim herself!” Asmodeus chuckled, sauntering close by. “I must say, you barely look a day over infinity!”

Sera nodded. “Ah… Asmodeus, a pleasure. Are you usually this charming, or is it because I’m a special guest?”

“Little of both,” He bounced an eyebrow, then his shoulder to adjust Fizz. “This is my boyfriend, by the way, Fizzarolli! Ain’t he just the sweetest lil’ guy?”

“Enchante.” Fizz stood with a dramatic bow.

Velvette whispered to Lute, “Let’s get somethin’ to eat, I hear the big rooster’s a chatterbox so we’ll be here a while to listen. And cold coffee makes me cranky as fuck…”

Lute nodded. “Yeah, good idea. Croissants taste better fresh.” She didn’t want to stick around when Big Ozzie started to really pile on the charm, but it did give her some vague idea on how Sera would react to being offered free access to ‘toys’ straight from the Lust Ring. She almost regretted already confirming breakfast, but she was sure Lucifer would cackle about it for a week. So she had that base of entertainment covered.

“Imagining the guy tryna offer a quadruple XL vibrator?” Velvette sniggered. She saw right through Lute’s imagination.

“How much you willing to bet she’ll crack before the end of the month without paperwork to keep herself distracted?”

“Loser has to order the biggest thing they can fit.” Velvette grinned.

“...Fuck no, bitch?”

“Can’t blame a girl for tryin’ to be adventurous!”

“I can and just did.” Lute smirked, giving her girlfriend a teasing hip check to the face.

They bickered through the doorway, their back and forth still audible as they left for breakfast, being watched by Vaggie.

“Did you find getting along with her difficult?” Sera gracefully strolled over. “With Lute, I mean.”

“Kind of, she was a wreck when she came here a month or so ago. Between you and me, still kind of is. Avoid anything ballerina-related around her, she’s still got intense PTSD.” Vaggie’s wing feathers frayed a bit, recalling that one sparring session, crossing her arms. “With Velvette, she’s got her mind together. What I still can’t figure out is why she doesn’t just regenerate her arm. It isn’t cauterized, and the scars can just be cut through to create a fresh wound to regrow the limb since she ripped it off herself without Angelic Steel.”

“That sounds unpleasant.”

Vaggie almost forgot she was talking to a Seraphim. Usually, Sera was so out of touch with mortal affairs compared to her sister. The concept of physical pain or injury must be a mere memory for her.

“Oh it is! She’s hardcore enough to chop into it again. Must be a pride thing. What about you? Why are you here, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I…” Sera chose her words wisely, trying to find the right ones to explain her reasoning. “I fucked up, and I’m not above my own rules.”

It was simple, it was direct, and that was all Vaggie needed to be satisfied with without prying, finishing her cup of coffee. “Let’s get you settled in.”

Cherri stretched, flopping back onto her bed in her room after being urged by Charlie to get some actual rest. This was one tiring week. With the Lutebots, Angel nearly biting the big one, and now a whole fucking Seraphim was staying at the hotel. She never had the chance to get a full night’s rest, but if she slept now before dinner it would only fuck up her interal clock.

She craved action, yet her muscles chained her to the soft comfort of the surprisingly plush mattress.

She closed her eye, trying to think happy thoughts. That goofy snake was always a riot, he must be living his best life up in Heaven. “Miss Cherri.” She could almost hear his voice now, imagining him tinkering away at some new super mega death ray. Or building cute little wind-up toys for the orphans who deserved better. All with that cute lisp. “Miss Cherri?”

Wow… that was clear. Too clear.

Cherri opened her eye, being met with Sir Pentious’s angelic visage staring down at her with a nervous smile and wave. “Emily said I could say hi!” Behind him was a shimmering portal leading back into Sera’s estate. Emily peeked out behind him, giving a double thumbs-up.

“I’ll be back in an hour!” Emily sing-songed, closing the portal, leaving the two alone.

“...Get the fuck over here.” Cherri reached up, ignoring her muscles screeching in fatigue to pull the serpent in for a deep kiss, returning the favor from Adam’s siege. “I fuckin’ missed ya!”

“And I you,” Pentious continued, kissing her neck. “I never thought I’d miss the smell of gunpowder this much!”

Cherri wrapped her arms around his torso, clinging to him as tears started welling up in her eye. “I thought you were gone, you asshole… you fuckin’ kiss me and go dyin’ like that…”

“...Sorry.” Pentious coiled his tail around her legs.

“I didn’t say stop kissing, you shiny noodle…!” Cherri sobbed through her smile. “What’s it like in Heaven?”

“Not what I expected, but it was nice. The spider’s sister showed me around, Molly, I believe? I got to work on a lot more interesting inventions! Like a hologram projector that simulates the sensations of a living organism when projected!”

“I like your funny words, snake man.” She pulled him in for another deep kiss. “Does it go boom?” 

“Not anymore, but I can make the projections move ‘independently’ with a thought.” He waggled his eyebrows with a sly hiss. “I’ve tested it myself…” Pentious paused when he said that and held up his hands defensively. “N-Not like that!” 

“No shame in a little ‘self-reflection’,” Cherri purred, undoing Pentious’ bowtie. “But I am willing to be your next research subject on that front. How about a little us time while you still got that hour to spend?”

“O-Oh my…!” 

Sera, in her room just a floor above, placed her collected items on the reading table. Simple amenities. A Bible, a few books she wanted to catch up on, and a framed photo of Emily. She crossed her arms, proudly admiring the small but worthy effort of making this room feel like home.

A thump from below caused her photo frame to fall face down. Then another thump, then another, and another.

“BLOW ME TO BITS!” Cherri’s voice moaned, even bypassing the carpeted floor meant to muffle noise. “DO A SEX WITH ME!”

Sera stared in horror at the floor, debating on whether she should step in or not. Such callous, blatant displays of intercourse weren’t illegal but discouraged in Heaven, unless it was in one of many designated areas for consensual encounters. But this was Hell. Shit happens when it happens and nobody can say shit. Sera snatched a notebook and pen from her still-open suitcase and began scribbling, pretending to fulfill forms or whatever it took to keep her mind off the foundation-shaking romp going on below her feet. “This is Hell… they’re free to do whatever they want…” she reminded herself. “Oh, a new puppy sanctuary? Approved! Ehehe… a… uhm… new hat store? Approved!” 

“PUT THEM BOTH IN AT THE SAME TIME! LET THE HAT WATCH!”

“Nope!” The Seraphim slammed her notebook shut with a strained smile. “I’m taking a walk!”

Chapter Text

Earth, post-Eden. Adam had been tasked with populating the planet with his wife, Eve. It did have a lot of creepy implications of their descendants inevitably being related and making children of their own. But with divine intervention, the gene issue was ruled out for the time being until the human race was deemed ‘diverse’ enough. 

“Aclima! Where are ya, kiddo?” Adam called out for his daughter. He checked inside the humble wooden hut he had built with his own two hands, poking his head through the window. Eve was lying on the straw-stuffed bed, her forearm over her eyes. She looked almost like Lilith with a slim figure and sharp facial features, but with wild hair reaching her hips, and bangs that covered her eyes, all in Adam’s cedar-brown color. She was wearing a fur pelt bikini she fashioned herself to handle the humid heat of the summer. “Hey, hon, you seen Aclima anywhere?”

Eve lifted her arm to tiredly glare at her husband. Right… it was her time of the month. Even without that factor, she had been getting moody lately.

“You need me to get you something from food storage?” he asked nervously, “We found a new type of berry! It’s sweet, might help with your cramps!”

“...That would be nice, dear,” Eve groaned, hoisting herself into a seated position, wincing as she held her belly. “What are they?”

“Dunno, might have to name them eventually. Be right back!”

Adam ducked out for a minute, returning through the door with a wooden bowl full of small red fruits connected in pairs by a green stem. They looked uncannily like apples, especially the freshly ripe-looking ones. The irony was not lost on him. He watched Eve pick up a pair and inspect them, feeling how firm yet soft they were. She rolled it between her fingertips. “It’s not a berry.”

“Say wha?”

Eve chuckled. “It’s a pit fruit.” She took a small bite off of one and held it up to show Adam the cherry pit nestled tightly within the red, juicy flesh of the fruit, the juices rolling down the corner of her mouth. “It’s really sweet, though, thank you.”

“No problem, babe! So, seen Aclima?”

“Can’t say I have. She’s a strange child, but she gets along with her brothers. Maybe she’s out with them?”

Adam shuddered. Aclima never really showed any affection to her brothers; they did get along, but only in a sense of self-preservation and needing to get a task done. With Adam though it was almost eerie how she treated him like a living deity, obeying his every whim and going beyond what he requested. He would ask her to help till the fields, she would return with everything immaculately prepared. When it came to preparing meats from a slaughtered animal, she would organise the cuts so precisely by weight, fat content, and alphabetical name.

What disturbed everyone most of all was how zealous she was. Heaven’s word was law, even if it came from a messenger Cherub without proof. Aclima was the perfect poster child for The Elders’ long-term plan for human life. Life without sin.

“I’ll go check the animal pens, I think I remember asking her to feed the oxen.”

He left after kissing his wife on the forehead, leaving the bowl of cherries behind.