London. Triple S Security offices in a nondescript office building in a rundown northern suburb. Crowley, Evgeny, and Bohdan are seated around the desk in Bohdan's lair. Bohdan looks like a pleased child as he speaks:
I named the command and control servers as little jokes. Hell is "Diopside." It is a black mineral that can show a 4-pointed star, a cross. Heaven is "Ocyrhoe," the mate to Pegasus. Pegasus, of course, is the software we're _not_ using.
Crowley hands Bohdan a memory stick.
Here's the clickbait for Beelzebub. It's a video file of what happened before she blew up the parish hall. When Archangel Gabriel turned up as a statue. I got permission to upgrade the hall's audio equipment. And put in a couple surveillance cameras as well. We send this from the disposable demon DeeDee's phone as a report.
They watch the black and white night vision camera footage.
What's she saying?
Crowley translates the ancient language as they watch. The video ends.
Fuck your mother!
Holy shit!
Quite the beauty, isn't she?
Yvgeny regards the little memory stick as he might a roll of gelignite. Grins.
I like this bitch. She will realize the blackmail potential. Yes?
Undoubtedly. Let's hope she's so pleased she won't notice that her phone is captured. Heaven is a bit trickier. We send a clickbait file, they'll know it came from Uriel.
A watering hole maneuver, then.
Crowley nods.
Uriel tells me there's a London tailor that the executive angels like to patronize. There's a website.
Sandy-haired little Bohdan resembles a mischievous pixie as he grins.
Cake.