Flames erupted from every corner and crevice, flames strong enough to burn out Man into a cinder in less time than he could blink. Even so, a shadowed figure strolled along the lanes of infernal heat with a casualness impossible for anyone who happened to land here… Anyone except him. On and on he walked, past volcanic mountains reaching thousands of miles into the air, and trenches deep enough which would surely reach this world's core. And all this time, he felt no fear nor terror nor fright. After all, why would he? This was after all… His home.
Lucifer kept on with his current pace, never stopping even if there was an obstacle in his way. But of course, why would he need stop? He could simply levitate over any bothersome hole – no matter how deep – in his way or quench any fires which happened to try and smolder him to ashes. Sometimes he considered maybe he should be rid of all these minor annoyances once and for all from his abode. But not long after, he quickly changed his mind on that particular thought.
How could his residence still be called Hell if it was pleasantly peaceful?
Peace. Lucifer shuddered in spite of himself. He had always wondered why Men would desire for a peace-filled life – how the carnage and bloodbaths of wars was going to achieve their desired peace in the first place was beyond even him, but then again, Men were never intelligent nor rational creatures; not when compared to himself, in any case. Peace itself was so repetitive, so boring… So.. Peaceful! He knew this from experience, and it was not an experience he would very much like to repeat. He could not tolerate tranquility! He could not abide by harmony! There must be chaos in the world, in all of the worlds! And he would have made it so if it were not for his brother's restrictions; normally warnings would not have kept him away, but his brother had made sure Lucifer could not cross over. But someday, he would find a way.
And that day seemed tremendously close. Lucifer could almost taste victory… if it were not an intangible item, that is.
He spotted his destination over the horizon, and the sight so familiar to him it made him smile a grin to split his face in two; almost fondly. It was a huge black spire – but maybe even black was not the right word to describe it; it just seemed to suck in all the light and obliterated it from existence – stretching miles across the otherwise barren landscapes of Hell and was oval in shape. A few irregularities spawned from the walls of the structure, oddly shiny polished stabs of what could or could not be metal, and from not few of them hung mutilated corpses with signs of violence obviously committed after their deaths.
"The Gallery of the Damned," at a whisper barely audible to even himself. "And it is here, brother, where my triumph over your reign will begin…" This time his grin became malevolent, but that was innocent compared to the horrid evil gleaming in his eyes.
As he kept on his slow pace towards the structure, things started to move within his sight. Defiled things, horrid creatures, the breed of the Damned; his children. Daddy's home, he thought dryly. While he was caught up in his musings, a Scavenger Soldier – possibly the dumbest of his creations – crawled onto a boulder – or it might have been the wreckage of a car – and snarled at him. I see you didn't miss me too much.
The closer he got to the Gallery, the more of the Soldiers showed up and none too happy to see him either. If they were not pacing around threateningly, they were growling and scowling. But go ahead and let them. Those who assaulted him would very soon discover their mistakes through an eternity's suffering. Lucifer chuckled inwardly at the idea.
His mirth quickly subsided as he finally noticed something odd about the skies of Hell. It wasn't the color, as the skies were still in the ominous shades of red and black with giant streaks of lightning and thunder pounding the ground. But something different… and then it hit him so clearly he was surprised he hadn't had found out sooner. There was a disruption in the chaotic patterns. There are patterns in even chaos.. but when the patterns have been tampered with... down here… It means…
"Someone crossed over!" He magnified the yell with his divine talents, "Who?" The last word was so thundering, it roared across the plains of the Damned and deafened all who heard. Suddenly Lucifer's form was no longer shrouded in shadow and perpetual darkness, it suddenly lifted and left a robe of the purest white on him. Whatever calmness possessed his face now no longer seemed to have hold either. His expression was twisted in anger, scorn and the purest of hate. "Who!"
The lightning from the skies did not stop pounding the land, if anything it became that much fiercer. But now, no longer did chaos dictate their moments; they responded to the pace of Lucifer's steps and with each step did thunder tear the ground apart into large clouds of debris.
But beside Lucifer's rage, the onslaught of the skies could be considered harmless, trivial.
As he approached the tainted Gallery of the Damned, he kept speculating in his head what punishment would be dire enough for disobeying his orders…