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“ALASTOR, STOP!” Charlie shouted at the brooding sinner from across the foyer. Despite the highly strung smile laced across Alastor’s face, his expression was taught with fury. Lucifer stood only a few yards away, hands neatly clasped behind his back with a disinterested frown. “It's not worth it!” Charlie rushed up to Alastor but the man snapped his neck in her direction. Radio static permeated the air and sank deep into Charlie's brain. She clasped her hands over either ear, falling to her knees.
“I've had enough of these petty insults,” Alastor crooned with a growl. “I consider myself a rather well controlled individual, however one thing I cannot allow is the insult you've put onto my mother's grave.” Alastor’s eyes sharpened and Lucifer only stared in silence.
“You don't want to fight me, Alastor.”
Alastor could feel acidic magma rolling through his chest and guts. Every part of him desired to wrap his claws around the king of Hell's neck. “Oh, of course I do!” Alastor threw his cane into the air and grabbed it, swinging it to point at the fallen angel. “Surely you didn't expect anything less after the vile jabber that fell from your mouth!”
The king cracked a small grin. “Don't you remember what happened when you tried to pick a fight with Adam? Do you really want a repeat?”
Alastor’s ears pinned back and a sound rumbled from his core. Black and green fog rolled off of his form as his eyes shifted into something akin to a radio dial. His grin stretched further up his face in an unnatural contortion. If he hadn't been blinded by his own egoistical anger he would have backed down – but months of spending time with this idiot seemed to have put a damper on Alastor's respect for the clown. His smile became a bit more genuine. “Oh, how could I forget? Though, Adam was an angel. But you? You're the lowest of the low; fallen into a pit of your own failure. ”
Lucifer's smile dropped and Charlie grabbed at Alastor's pant leg. “Al, quit. You won't win,” she insisted. Alastor glanced down at her and for the first time possibly ever she looked angry with him. “You're going to get yourself hurt, this is stupid!”
Alastor felt a hesitance bloom in his chest. But he was already swimming in his own hubris; to back down now would be to accept the attack on his late mother. Alastor would sooner lay down his afterlife than let some pompous nepobaby get away with such a thing. “Charlie, I suggest you release me.” Her face fell into a look of disbelief. This wasn't going to work.
She stood up and turned towards her father. “Dad! Please, just apologize and we can all move on!” Lucifer scowled at her. His heart ached to see her upset. But if there was one thing he learned by ruling hell for centuries it was that respect was the ultimate currency among demons. He had a position to uphold and while he normally could handle the attitude, this sinner had gone too far.
“CharChar, don't you remember what I taught you?” He smiled gently at her before turning back to Alastor. With a blink his eyes shifted to a scarlet red, horns starting to peak from his skin. “ You don't take shit from other demons. ”
Alastor could feel his hands shaking. He tried to hide it. He wasn't scared as much as he was excited. Adrenalized. Finally able to take out his training from the past few months. After losing to Adam he knew he had to refresh his powers. He was stronger than ever, stronger than any overlord surely. Perhaps even strong enough to beat a king.
“Well then! What are we waiting for, Sire?” Alastors antlers cracked and grew as he watched the king roll up his sleeves. Before Alastor could throw another taunt the lights in the hotel flickered. There was a sound of bulbs shattering as the room went pitch black. No light penetrated through the windows; this was an unnatural night.
“Dad, No!” Alastor couldn't see Charlie. Instead his sight locked into the only visible thing before him; glowing red eyes, step by step making their way closer. Alastor’s heart picked up, his breathing coming in short huffs. The room felt worryingly cold and he was sure that if he could see then he’d be presented with his own breath turned into fog. Alastor prepared his stance, magic zipping against the tip of his tongue and claws. Like a lion ready to pounce, Alastor was ready for the fight to begin.
“This is a cute party trick, Sire, but surely you're going to show me a real fight?” His voice stuttered from the cold. Alastor attempted to summon his magic and produce light only for it to fizzle out. “What?” He muttered a curse to himself. Without his magic he was useless! How was this possible? Lucifer stayed silent, only getting closer and closer. That's when he started to notice the whispers. Thousands of whispers overlapped in his ears, some distant screams interlaced within the sound. A song of pain. He could barely make out a couple words. People pleading, praying, begging, cursing, crying.
“Alastor, do you know why I'm the king?” Lucifer's voice sounded as if it were coming from all directions. It was smooth like honey, gentle and the only warmth within the environment surrounding the sinner.
Alastor pressed his ears back once more, glancing around himself before locking back onto the red orbs in front of him. “I'm not here for a history lesson,” he stated flatly. Of course Alastor knew why he was king – everyone did, even humans. He was the creator of Hell, the first to fall from God's grace. Alastors eyes widened when he noticed that the King's eyes were slowly becoming taller and taller. The black slit pupils turned until they resembled that of a goat. Taller and taller until Alastor was sure the man had taken a form that must have tripled his own size. Unease weighed heavily in his gut and he took a few unsteady steps back. Lucifer didn't seem to actually care about his answer, though, as he continued to speak.
“Every soul that finds its way into my home is just that; in my home.” Lucifer's voice had become deeper and gravelly. The whispers became louder, almost drowning out the king's voice. Alastor started to realize just how badly he had fucked up. “Every voice you play on your radio, every smile you see on TV, every lowly imp and powerful sinner that walks among these streets; they worship me.”
The sounds of Lucifer's once delicate steps became heavy against the carpet. Alastor backed away further. He looked for Charlie but still couldn't see anything. He wasn't even sure if she was still here. “You are the dealer, your client is the unfortunate, and I am the pen. I am the paper that you scribble your name unto. I am the ink that spills over your fingertips, I am the blood that bonds you, I am the fiber that weaves your very form into existence.”
Alastor jumped to the side as a warm gust of wind rushed against the back of his neck. He tried to look for the source but nothing was there except inky black darkness. The whispers momentarily got louder every time he felt a breeze of hot air. Soon the air became the feeling of phantom hands grazing against his body. No matter what direction Alastor backed away into the touches followed. The whispers of screams and anguish slowly morphed into delighted giggles and chants in what Alastor could only assume was Latin. His head began to pound and his legs trembled.
Suddenly, all at once, everything stopped. Alastor panted for air, eyes widely searching around for a way out. Surely he should have run into furniture or a wall by now? Lucifer had stopped moving towards him some time ago. The silence was painful. Alastor couldn't find his own voice. He couldn't hear his own breathing. Nothingness consumed him. And then right beside his face, a deep, grating tone whispered, “ And ye shall be as gods . ”
Alastor didn't get a chance to think before his body was slammed into the floor by a crushing weight. He screamed but no noise came, only the feeling of his horror ripping apart his own vocal chords. The weight pressed onto his back until his bones shattered. He could taste his own coppery blood spewing from his mouth as his organs were crushed and punctured by the fractures of his ribs. His ears rang with the sounds of the damned howling with laughter, a million hands gripping and tearing his flesh off of his body. Every fiber of his form radiated with pain. Beneath the piercing screeches of souls, Alastor could faintly hear Lucifer’s chuckling. Alastor couldn't handle anymore; his mind cracked and ruptured until eventually it all went darker than dark.
Alastor woke up in one of the hotel rooms. His mind was fuzzy as he slowly sat up to look around. The sound of a gasp made him jump from his skin. “You're awake!” Charlie lunged into a hug, squeezing him and pulling an elkish mew from the sinner. “Er- y-yes, awake…” He pushed Charlie off gently.
“Oh, Al I'm so sorry! I should have done more, I should have- I can't believe he did that- I just-” Charlie ran her fingers through her hair. Alastor watched her in silence for a moment as he tried to recall his memories. He had a vague understanding of what happened but no imagery to go along with it. All he did know was that even thinking about what the king had done to him made his gut drop and his skin crawl.
“Hush now, princess,” Alastor muttered, putting a hand on her shoulder. She looked at him with guilt. “Tell me…how long have I been asleep?” Charlie frowned.
“A few days. I've been taking care of you- I- I was so worried. Dad said you'd be fine but…” She trailed off as she put a hand over his. He looked away, examining himself. He was still in his suit despite remembering it was supposed to be torn to shreds. None of this made sense.
“Charlie, did you see what happened?” His voice was dull and scratchy. He sounded weak at the memory. Her expression turned from worry to horror. She swallowed thickly.
“I…I don't want to talk about that, I'm sorry, Al.” A sense of dread pooled in the sinner's stomach at seeing Charlie so distraught. Before he could speak, the door to their room opened up. Lucifer walked inside, short and bubbly as ever.
“Al! You're awake! Wow- wow I thought you'd never wake up! Haha, no I'm just kidding I knew you would. Probably…. I mean, yes, yes I knew it.” He chuckled and walked over to the bed and plopped down. Alastor didn't know if he was scared or not. If he was, he didn't really understand what for. Charlie frowned weakly at her father. The king’s grin was Cheshire as he locked eyes with Alastor. “So, I hope you've learned your lesson?”
Alastor squinted in annoyance at him. His pride was already wounded beyond repair, this truly was just a mind game to Lucifer. But the feeling of absolute terror that remained somewhere in Alastor’s soul gave him an incentive to behave. “....yes,” he crackled out. Lucifer's expression relaxed and his smile curled wider.
“Good! Now, I made you some ‘Congrats, You Survived A Fight With The King Of Hell’ pancakes! A good thing to celebrate if I do say so myself.” He giggled and swept back onto his feet, walking backwards towards the door. “Oh man, what a good time. I had a good time. Did you have a good time? Probably not. HAH! See you in the dining room, Bambi!”
And just like that, Lucifer was gone.
“I'm sorry about him,” Charlie muttered, standing from the stool she had beside Alastor’s bed. Alastor kept his eyes locked onto the door.
“You're fine, dear, it's not as if I didn't instigate it myself. I don't need you to apologize for my own…failures. Now, do you mind giving me a few to wake up, darling?”
Charlie smiled a little smile and nodded. “I mean it Alastor; I'm really happy you're awake.” Something in Alastor's chest felt heavy at her admission. He nodded and with a wave Charlie was gone.
As terrified as Alastor was, a morbid curiosity laced his mind. What dark secrets and powers did Lucifer possess? Was his usual joking demeanor a complete act? Who was he truly, was he genuinely as innocent as the history books made him out to be? Alastor never considered himself the type to obsess over the on-goings of others unless it directly involved himself. However, the secrets that lay behind the broken mind of The Devil were far too tempting to resist.
...
You know, pancakes didn't sound too bad after all.