Chapter Text
Alastor's mother had always warned him against going into the Depths, that it wasn't safe for good merfolk like them. There were two issues he had with her warnings.
One: he wasn't good, not like she had been. Good merfolk didn't hunt and consume other merfolk, didn't crave it as he did sometimes. They didn't get hungry at the sight of the powerful and arrogant that used their status as a reason to treat others like garbage. He'd killed and eaten from over two, maybe three dozen others so far, with no remorse or intention to stop anytime soon.
The fact that he'd lost count was only an extra point at his lack on the scale of good.
Two: the Depths were vast, quiet, and, above all, one of the few places that other merfolk avoided. It made them the perfect place to dispose of evidence, (there was no way he could eat a whole mer on his own or safely store the remains to consume later) or escape in times where his self control was being sorely tested.
Escape was currently what he sought. It was the beginning of mating season, and if one more mer approached him with salacious intentions, he was going to snap and reveal his darker inclinations. He'd never felt any inkling of attraction for other mer, figured it was just another anomaly of his to go along with his broken mind and morals. So when this season came around, he tried to make himself scarce.
All in all, he rather liked the peace and quiet of the upper edges of the Depths. Though he never traversed into the totally dark regions, the higher pressures of this level did not bother him the way it seemed with some of the others when they'd all been young and idiotically daring each other to see how far down each of them could go. It had taken the death of one of their peers to really sell the dangers of it to the others, making them steer clear. Everyone except for Alastor, but then again, he'd always been an odd mer. This place gave him some much needed time alone, made it possible for him to tolerate the year-long flirtatious behavior of Angel Dust and cantankerous nature of Husker. Niffty was a delightful bundle of chaos, but even she got to be too much for him to handle at times.
Humming a melody he'd heard from one of the siren families, Alastor felt all the tension and irritation that had been building up fall away. He didn't have to worry about returning anytime terribly soon, a moronic individual who didn't seem to understand the word 'no' had volunteered himself for dinner with his foolish, amorous pursuit. No one would miss that merman, his obsession with sharks had led to him leading the beasts far too close to their homes with the intention to tame one. They would all assume he finally got eaten by the creatures he so adored.
Alastor had disposed of the remains a little ways back and now had nothing to worry about for several hours! Delightful!
A not-quite sound had him stopping, warily looking all around. He might be comfortable out here, but he wasn't foolish enough to believe he was safe. He kept his hand close to the handle of the spear on his back for a long moment, waiting for any sign of trouble.
There was nothing but the faint light above and the dark below. Not even any schools of fish, they had all retreated to higher regions it seemed...
Just as he was considering moving up as well, a bright glow caught his attention. It glinted and swayed in the currents a bit further down than he was. Curiosity warred with caution until finally he decided to look closer, pulling his spear out and holding it ready just in case.
Swimming down slowly, Alastor watched the light, amazed when he found it had the silhouette of another mer. He'd never met one that glowed so bright. He and some others in the corals had a faint bit of bioluminescence, but nothing like this! His grip on his spear relaxed as he got closer to the figure flitting around in a graceful, hypnotic dance. The other mer stopped its dance, turning to face him with a bright smile and a wave in greeting.
Alastor found himself wanting to get even closer, his wariness gone completely as he looked over the petite merman. The glowing white male looked fairly harmless and seemed friendly enough. Holstering the spear, he swam closer, "Hello there, my friend! Enjoying some time to yourself in the Depths too?"
The merman shook his head, "Are you the shallow-dweller that has been sending down all those tasty treats?"
Alastor furrowed his brow. The other had spoken, but there had been no movement of his mouth. Curious. Perhaps he was one of the ones lucky enough to be born with magic and was speaking into his mind? "Treats?"
The white figure nodded, the glow brightening so nicely, "Yes! The other shallow-dwellers. Someone has been sending them down here. It's been nice not having to hunt so much. Was it you?"
Despite the fact that he had so carefully hidden his activities from others back home, Alastor found himself unable to even consider lying to this pretty mer, "Yes."
"Oh, good!"
The light dimmed and the white mer suddenly moved away at a startling speed. With the hypnotic glow gone, Alastor found himself confused and disoriented. This was too far down for sunlight to reach enough for him to see clearly, but he could tell there was a large something behind where the other merman had been. That something lit up in thin bright tendrils, revealing a truly monstrous mer with a wide grin full of very sharp teeth. Perhaps he had been around Angel Dust too often lately, because he could hear the man's voice in his head saying only one word as he stared in awe at the terrifying but gorgeous giant of a mer, "Smash."
It was only when the other looked at him with clear confusion that Alastor realized he actually said it out loud. To make matters worse, it looked like his photophores had been flashing in a display meant for attracting a potential mate. Burying his face in his hands, he groaned, "Just go ahead and kill me now. Please."
***
Lucifer wasn't sure how long he'd been traversing the various deep regions of the world's oceans alone. Couple centuries at least, probably longer. Time was difficult to track when a mer was too far down to be able to tell the cycles of the sun. At one time, he'd been able to live amongst the shallow-dwellers. His kind had high magical proficiency and that had allowed him to shift his form to better fit among the smaller species. The only problem was that no matter his shape or apparent size, he had to eat enough to sustain his natural form plus whatever magic he wanted to use. As the years passed and he continued to grow larger, that became more difficult to maintain in the higher regions.
Though they were considered functionally immortal, Lucifer was pretty sure he was actually one of the last pure-blooded of the old deep-dweller bloodlines. Whether by fights with surface-dwellers while living among the shallows, wars between the various upper merfolk clans, or simply because they could no longer keep up with their bodies increasing demands, Lucifer had not seen any other like him in over a thousand years. Many of his brethren had mated with the smaller kinds, their offspring spared from the eventual curse that came with such powerful forms. Even his own had been from a mating with a human by the name of Lilith. She had been beautiful, a powerful sorceress capable of extending her life to some degree, though her time had eventually come as it did for most beings. Their daughter, Charlie, was the light of his life, the reason he still tried to keep going. She had seemed to be free of the curse of growing as large as he had, though from what he and Lily had been able to tell, she would definitely be long-lived. They'd parted ways when it became difficult to keep up the energy needed to stay shifted for the shallows. He'd promised to find a way to return somehow, or to come see her one last time if it became too difficult for him to keep going.
While there had been one option plentiful enough that it would have allowed him to stay close to her, hunting other mers was considered barbaric nowadays. It would have had everyone not only out for his life, but likely Charlie's too. When Lucifer had been young, it had been seen as a natural thing, a matter of larger predators hunting weaker, smaller prey. Now that almost all merfolk were of the smaller kinds, it was judged as something horrendous and evil.
So now he hunted the larger creatures that lived in near total darkness, always moving so he didn't deplete any one area enough to attract the wrong sort of attention. Because he was never certain when he'd find enough food next, he avoided sapping his strength with magic, instead leaning into the natural advantages his large form had. The bright lure attracted fish and unlucky lone merfolk that had wandered too far down for anyone to see their demise had come at the hands of another mer. The ends of his webbed fingers were sharp and capable of penetrating the strongest carapaces, while his teeth could find vital organs even through thick layers of blubber.
In short, he had grown into the sort of monster found in ancient human legends.
Lucifer had recently begun to worry that perhaps he would not find the means to sustain himself enough to be able to return to Charlie like he wanted. He wasn't like the ones that let themselves wither away, meeting death with painful slowness. If it truly was his time, he'd need to seek out someone or something capable of taking him out in a fight.
He had slowly begun to make his way back towards the waters where he'd left Charlie when he came across the first one. A merman, one colored in the way of the shallow-dwellers, who had to have been killed by another. The marks were too distinct to be anything else, and it looked like the killer may have taken several bites themself before sending the rest down below with rocks weighing it down to ensure the body would sink completely. Lucifer was tempted to call it a simple one off, but he'd found other remains too recent to be completely cleared away by bottom feeders. While he couldn't be certain they'd all been killed by the same mer, the thought that perhaps one of the ones up there had returned to the old ways was enough of a curiosity to have him sticking around.
Sure enough, it wasn't long before he caught the scent of fresher mer blood in the waters and followed it to find a body that still had silt settling around where it had landed. Whoever was killing them was cautious and quick though, his attempt at finding them with echolocation turned up nothing. Still, he wasn't in any sort of condition to be turning down a free meal that he didn't have to burn energy hunting for himself.
Even if the one sending them down had taken the best parts for themself.
It took time, but he started to figure out a timing. Whoever was hunting these mer was smart enough to space it out, though they didn't stick to an exact schedule or that would have likely raised even more suspicion. The shallower waters here must be pretty heavily populated though, considering the relatively steady regularity in which the bodies were sent down.
Lucifer did have to wonder why these ones were chosen though. It was unlikely that the killer was just picking at random, they likely had to research and isolate the merfolk they chose so they could learn how to best draw them out of public eye and far enough away to not be caught at it. What criteria did they have for their hunts?
Then finally an echo returned in the shape of a singular mer swimming within the edges of what was considered deep-dweller territory. While it might have been coincidental, the fact that this lone one was out here so soon after Lucifer had found another dead mer with the same wounds as the others made him fairly sure this was the hunter. Thanks to them, he had enough energy to really turn up the light on his lure to hopefully get their attention.
He grinned victoriously when the shallow-dweller began to move closer, close enough even to get enthralled by the mer-shaped bait. Though those above still warned each other about the danger of the dark waters, the tales had lost much of the advise they once carried, leaving the new generations without the defenses to truly keep them safe from his kind. Of course, the fact that he might very well be the last of the old deep hunters might be why the warnings had become more vague things. Such was the way of nature though, it cared little for those that were incapable of evolving to fit the ever-shifting flow of life.
Hopefully this little one would be amenable to speaking with him on a matter of mutual interest to aid him in keeping up with the changes. It would be a shame to lose the potential of this resource he'd found, one who fit in the new ways, but seemed to carry a touch of the old.
Lucifer studied the shallow-dweller as he approached, noting the heavy scarring. Apparently his hunts were not of weak and helpless prey compared to himself. The ancient mer greatly approved of that, it meant he was not a coward seeking only easy meals. Still, how had he explained away his wounds to others without revealing the true source of them?
Drawing the truth out was a simple matter. What he hadn't expected was for the enthralled look to return two-fold as the small mer took in his true appearance. Nor for him to speak such a random sounding word. Though given other indicators and the extremely clear embarrassment on the shallow-dweller, it might have been a newer slang for... certain activities.
He couldn't contain his incredulous amusement, laughter bursting from him. Who would have imagined that someone certainly born and raised in the shallows would instinctively attempt to attract him while in this form?! This was sure to be an interesting conversation at the very least.
When he managed to get himself back under control, Lucifer found the other peeking at him from above the webbing on his fingers. Shyness or wariness? Admittedly, it had been quite some time since he actually interacted with another mer, so his ability to read more subtle tells was a bit rusty, "Tell me, shallow-dweller, what is your name?"
The little merman blinked in clear surprise, lowering his hands, "Erm, A-Alastor. Might I ask yours?"
True name, from the sense of it. Another sign that the dangers of the old magics had been forgotten or warped in the telling without any fresh reminders, "I am called Lucifer. And I have a bit of an offer for you, if you'd be willing to hear it."
After all, someone like this shallow-dweller would benefit greatly from some of the old magics that could be learned instead of inherited. His comfort down here and ease of speech meant he must have some deep-dweller blood within him. How much and how old the bloodline ran would determine the sort and how strongly it came to him.
Making him a better hunter, more capable of avoiding damage, would be a fair exchange for providing Lucifer with some of the results of those hunts surely. And if this cute little thing remained so enamored, perhaps they could see where that went as well, once he had regained the strength to take on a more compatible appearance so he would be able to spend time with him and learn more about who Alastor was.