It should be noted that I haven't played either of the Helltaker games, my computer doesn't use Windows, lol. I did watch a video by the Alpha Beta Gamer, though. -Mtb
Subject-67 walked down the metallic corridor of the Loremaster's sin research facility, Lucifer, the Maid Demon right beside him, she'd offered to walk him to his dorm. The two shared very few words on their walk, neither of them even tried. It would matter little anyways, both of them already knew what they needed to anyways, as if they were sharing one mind. The feeling had come up while Lucifer dressed the subject in his new black suit, recognition, a memory of a past thousands of years behind. As for the subject, well, he had a strong affinity for this specific demon girl far in the back of his human mind. Same with Justice, the one that baked those apple pies.
Subject-67's pondering was interrupted as Lucifer came to an abrupt stop, using a keycard to open a titanium door into a small, purely-utilitarian room. Simply a bed, dresser, and an attached bathroom. A single fluorescent light buzzed on in both of the rooms.
"You're going to want to sleep soon, she's going to want to test you further tomorrow." Lucifer sighed.
"I thought I was done with testing? I ate the pie, she got the data, what else is there?" Subject-67 urged from the maid.
"Just more of the same, she's going to want to keep going until you're a dried husk…" Lucifer's eyes flicked down to a clock on the wall, she huffed in mild annoyance. "Look, I have to go." Before Subject-67 could respond, Lucifer was already halfway down the hall back towards the atrium, her maid heels clacking on the floor as she went. Subject-67 huffed, getting undressed and climbing into bed, though he felt no need to sleep...just the feeling of being watched…
Regardless, sleep took him eventually, he drifted off, hearing voices, hurried, angry, scared, apologetic. All around him, he could barely make out the words, they sounded as if he was underwater. Soon, though, his vision cleared and he came to remember.
Subject...The Helltaker stares up dazed at his living room's ceiling, a hand wandering to his aching forehead, it comes back warm and wet after a stinging pain. His hand is painted crimson, some of the drops drip onto his lips, he tastes copper.
"Jesus Christ…" The Helltaker says, slowly sitting up, helped by the feminine hands of another, the same ones that are currently wrapping gauze around his forehead and pressing a cold bottle of water in his clean hand, somehow at the same time.
"H-hey! You're not supposed to say his name in vain..!" A hurried, young and feminine voice says from behind him.
"Calm down, Azazel, I don't think he cares too much...but regardless can you not say that name?" The request is a disguised command, old fear in his heart drives the Taker to agree with a nod of his head. In front of him an authoritative woman stands over him, twirling a glass of wine, looking down condescendingly. At her feet lies a bloody golf club. She smirks.
"You made it all the way through Hell for a demon harem, managed to survive six months with them all, and a golf club swung by Cerberus is what catches you off guard?" Lucifer, the CEO of Hell asks mockingly.
"Yes, where are they? And how long was I out?" The Helltaker answers and asks simply. Lucifer scoffs, looking at the clock on a wall.
"Cerberus, Judgement and Justice are out back, taking and administering punishment respectively. You were unconscious for five minutes, maybe six." Lucifer sighs, "Azazel, leave us." It's a simple command, one that Azazel is happy to comply with, probably being the only one to actually recognize what little authority Lucifer holds onto in the Taker household. Azazel packs up the medical kit and quickly exits the living room upstairs to hers.
Lucifer looks down at The Helltaker, then up again as he gets to his feet. Even from behind his sunglasses, they both recognize the look on each other's face.
Recognition.
"You should, uh...probably stop trying to corrupt Azazel..."
Remember, I care very little about any known lore that disproves any of my stories. I write porn when I'm horny, and write other things whenever I damn well please, with little other regard other than I want it out of my head.