Lucifer pulled aside the glass door in front of him, stepping through the doorway and into the conference room where Ella had told him via text she and Detective Douche would be meeting. Everyone else in the room seemed to be set up around a small, rectangular table. Dan and Ella sat at one side, while Maze and Percy sat on the other, the two pairs facing each other in a subdued silence.

Why are Maze and Percy here? They were supposed to be out looking for Annabeth by now, as ensured by the deal Lucifer had brokered.

Though, Lucifer supposed, the LAPD likely does have access to files that would be useful in their search.

But that still left the question of why the two were waiting in silence instead of following Maze's usual tactics of impolite, brutal demands.

Then Lucifer hit on it. Percy! He's all that's different from normal, he must be the one that caused her to change her behavior!

To be fair, when Lucifer had spoken with him, Percy hadn't seemed particularly inclined towards polite cordiality. Percy's part in their interactions had primarily one of murder attempts and dry wit, not patience or good manners.

Yet, thinking about it further, Percy had managed to quietly listen to Lucifer's explanations for quite some time before he interrupted. Perhaps that was what was occurring here. It was a half-baked theory, there was no doubt about that. Dr. Linda or the Detective would have shot it down in an instant. But it was also the only theory which managed to explain why the normally impatient Maze wasn't currently frustratedly shaking Daniel up and down in the air by his collar as she demanded all files on Annabeth.

Speaking of files, it appeared there was going to be quite a large number of them in use during this particular case. There were files and folders scattered all across the table, each packed to the brim with paperwork, and several boxes with more of the same rested at Dan's feet.

But all that was besides the point at the moment—the point being that Ella needed him for this investigation, and Lucifer needed to make up for the fact that he hadn't been there for her the last two weeks.

So Lucifer pulled a chair over from the edge of the room, set it at the foot of the table (the head of the table was occupied by a rather large, currently blank whiteboard), and sat down.

Smiling at the sight of his little sister's favorite mortal, Lucifer began to explain himself. "Apologies if I took too long—the traffic was rather horrific on the way over, and it took me too long to decide upon taking a shortcut. Still, I am here now, and I'm glad to assist you with your case, Ms. Lopez."

It was true, as all things were which Lucifer said. He'd driven his car most of the way to the precinct, and though it had been remarkably clear traffic for most of the way, he had inevitably gotten stuck in the molasses of LA. For a while Lucifer had waited in that traffic, waiting for it to dissipate, but it hadn't, so Lucifer had eventually decided to run there with his angelic speed. He'd calculated a walking route to the precinct with his phone that would take him primarily through back-alleys, then pulled his car into one of said alleys and taken off.

It was a nice car, but Ms. Lopez was a nicer person. She deserved Lucifer's best effort. Now, if it had been Dan who asked for help, on the other hand…

Dan placed his hands on the table and stood up, his chair sliding out with a Dad-awful screech. His face twisted up in annoyance (as it almost perpetually was these days around Lucifer), Dan was practically snarling as he spoke. "It's actually my case, Lucifer. Ella's just doing the forensics on the body—all the detective work is going to be mine."

Lucifer knew that. He'd had his reasons for saying what he'd said, and he would gladly explain them to the Detective's dimwitted ex—since it seemed Daniel couldn't grasp the subtleties of Lucifer's statement on his own.

Remaining cool and collected in his chair, in stark contrast to Daniel's fuming demeanor, Lucifer replied to Detective Douche's aggression. "I'm well aware of that. But I'm very much not glad to assist you, and so I very deliberately did not mention you."

Daniel waved his hand at that, his tone dismissive."Yeah, yeah, I know, I know. You're the Devil, but I don't lie." Here, his hands came up, making a mocking set of quotation marks in the air "'My word is my bond.' As if. You may not lie, but you certainly don't always tell the whole truth—and sometimes, saying less than the whole truth ends up with other people dead."

The sarcasm in his tone burned at Lucifer, for beyond any of his other traits, he took pride in his honesty. It was the sole trait of his that even his hateful siblings could not help but acknowledge as a virtue, an anchor which had steadied Lucifer on even his darkest days in Hell. So that trait being mocked, let alone in so irreverent a fashion- well, needless to say it hurt Lucifer quite a lot to hear.

But the fact that Daniel was right—oh, that hurt Lucifer all the more.

For Daniel was correct here. Lucifer had failed to reveal that Cain (then in his masquerade as Lieutenant Pierce) was the crime boss known as the Sinnerman. And so when Charlotte Richards had made busting the Sinnerman a personal mission, she had not possessed the assistance of the LAPD. She hadn't even known of her target's Biblical origin.

And so, as Lucifer should have expected but for some inane reason hadn't, Charlotte Richards had died, murdered by Cain at the peak of her redemption. But in the end, Charlotte had gotten the last laugh. She was in Heaven now, in the greatest paradise to ever exist—and Lucifer had personally ensured that Cain was not.

Really, Lucifer didn't see why Dr. Linda insisted that they deal with his guilt over killing Cain. Lucifer knew his reasons for plunging his blade into Cain's flesh had been just. Why would he feel guilt over such a thing as that?

So as Daniel continued, Lucifer took his guilt and used it to restrain the outrage which came as Daniel questioned his honor. He used it to keep from lashing out at a man mourning his lost love.

Daniel's voice was now tremulous with grief, but his volume remained, his pained voice resonating throughout the room. "But you know what? I think that honesty of yours might come in handy on this case. So promise me this, Lucifer: promise me you won't go wandering off halfway through the case to get all depressed about your precious partner wanting some time away from you. As much as I hate to say it, we actually need you on this case. Got it?"

Ok, that was a step too far! All the other insulting claims had at least possessed a grain of truth to their criticisms. But leaving investigations halfway through? Lucifer had never, and would never, do such a thing. He had only ever left at their beginning, seen how they started and decided they weren't worth it without the Detective beside him.

Lucifer wanted to get in Daniel's face and throw out cutting retorts, to lecture him about exactly how little he understood the depths of Lucifer's pain. At least to her dying moment, Charlotte and Daniel had loved each other and known they were loved. But now, Lucifer may never have a chance to decipher his emotions for the Detective!

Yet when Lucifer looked over at Ella, her face entirely blank as she watched some of her closest friends bitterly squabble, he couldn't. So instead, Lucifer remained silent. Confused, Daniel traced his gaze. Then he too went silent, his face abruptly full of shame as he sat down and pulled his chair back into the table.

It was an awkward silence, one which seemed to go on for hours but likely only a few minutes in reality.

Eventually, Ella must have been certain that neither of them would continue, because she elbowed Daniel in the ribs and quietly muttered (well, quietly for mortals. Lucifer was quite certain everyone in the room could hear her speak) to Daniel. "Uh, Dan? I think you can get on with explaining the case now."

Now, Daniel's response—that was unsubtle enough you hardly needed superhuman senses to hear it. He'd been surprised by the interruption to the silence, and it showed. "Right, right. You got it, Ella."

As he said that, Daniel hurriedly opened up one of the many folders on the table, occasionally referencing the documents within as he began to explain the situation to Lucifer and the others. "The specific murder we're investigating is the latest in a set of eight murders, all known to be committed by a serial killer who the press has named 'the Performer'. Now, I hate when serial killers are given names by the press: the notoriety only encourages them. But in this case it's a good descriptor, because the Performer is a performative killer."

Lucifer raised his hand at that. He was trying not to aggravate Ms. Lopez, but all that meant was that he had to keep his needling subtle. It didn't mean he had to stop entirely.

Dan sighed. "Yes, Lucifer?"

"What, precisely, is a performative killer?" Now, to be fair, Lucifer was a bit confused by the term. But that confusion was mitigated by the fact that Lucifer was pretty sure…

"I was going to explain that in a moment."

Yes, exactly. Daniel was neurotic enough that Lucifer could be certain wouldn't miss such a large gap in his explanation.

"But since you asked, a performative killer is—as the name suggests—a serial killer that makes their murders into performances. And, getting back on track, the Performer in particular does this by kidnapping those close to his victims, then forcing them to watch as they slowly bleed their victim out in a specifically designed series of cuts."

Well, that was horrifying. Lucifer shuddered for a second at the thought of that, and all around him, Lucifer saw as the others did the same. To Lucifer's amazement, even Maze twitched a bit.

Obviously trying not to sink into another awkward silence (however justified this one would have been), Daniel continued—his terminology suddenly so formal that he must have been consulting the folder. "So far, the LAPD have been unable to catch this serial killer due to a large number of complicating factors. But among those many factors, there are three that stick out to the LAPD whenever a new victim is discovered."

Ella was nodding along with the explanation, obviously already briefed. Maze and Percy seemed a bit lost, but then, that was to be expected when you weren't actually going to be working the case you were getting briefed on.

As Lucifer glanced around, Daniel kept speaking, now obviously merely reciting lines from the transcript. "First, the investigators have so far been unable to find unifying attributes between the various victims. The trait composition of past victims—i.e. race, sexuality, socioeconomic status, education level profession, marital status, etc.-when analysed, have shown a rough correspondence with current population statistics, therefore preventing the prediction of the Performer's future targets by the LAPD. The only exception to this that has so far been noted is that of age, as though a child has been used as an 'audience member' on at least one known occasion, for now no children are known to have been killed by the Performer."

Though seemingly unaffected, Daniel paused for a moment to let them process that. The reactions were mixed. Percy seemed horrified that a child had been put through that kind of misery at all. Maze seemed murderous more than anything more general, though Lucifer wasn't quite sure why. Daniel was impassive, focusing on the file rather than bothering to feel anything. And Ella, though she must have read the file beforehand, still couldn't help but look down at the table, head in hands.

As for Lucifer—well, he would take pleasure in showing this Performer his true face. And after his recent experiences, that was saying something.

Once it seemed they had all processed it, and Ella had lifted her head from her hands, Daniel once more read from the file. "Second, the highly irregular and fluctuating intervals between when this serial killer strikes have prevented the LAPD from being able to predict even in general terms when they will kill. Notable examples include the first and second murders happening within a day of each other, and the fourth and fifth being separated by a distance of over seven months."

Here, Dan broke from the script. "Just so you know, the distance between this murder and the previous one is roughly three years. We thought the Performer was gone."

Okay, Lucifer couldn't ignore a setup like that. He'd tried, but Daniel was practically asking for it. So though he did his best to keep any vitriol out of his voice, Lucifer shot back. "Well, obviously you were wrong."

Daniel seemed to be doing the same, attempting to keep the discussion calm. He wasn't reading from the file here, but though Lucifer could hear the recrimination in his voice, he could not hear any of the bitter tone which had persisted through Daniel's other interactions with Lucifer the last two weeks. "Yeah. It looks like we were. But we can't be sure about that, either. It's been so long that a copycat is actually pretty likely, so we'll have to keep our eyes peeled for that possibility even as we're investigating the original."

Now that was more like the helpful, boring, mildly funny cop Lucifer knew. Now if only he could stay this way until the Detective returns…

Lucifer knew this behavior was only because Ms. Lopez was there. If she hadn't been present, Daniel would have gladly torn into Lucifer for questioning him.

And indeed, it seemed Daniel didn't believe himself capable of maintaining that tone, as he'd already resumed blankly reciting the file. "But beyond all of that, the final and most important aspect of the Performer's crimes which has prevented the LAPD from being able to catch them is the very same thing which makes their schtick unique: namely, their 'audience members.' The terror tactics which the Performer employs on their audience members have resulted in inconsistent testimony, refusal to speak out due to fear of retribution, and widely varying claims about the Performer's estimated physical traits. In summary, the Performer has done their best to completely bar the LAPD from fully utilizing what should be one of the largest and most guaranteed witness pools for any serial killer case."

Oh! Well, this wasn't going to be hard!

If there was one aspect of police work that Lucifer was particularly gifted with, it was extracting information from others. Between his supernaturally-enhanced charm, his mojo, and his inability to be predicted by his interviewees-well, suffice it to say there were very few mortals he and the Detective had interviewed which had told them nothing.

So Lucifer might as well say as much. "Is that all? Well, if those investigators are anything like Daniel over here, it's no surprise they couldn't get anything. Just give me a minute with them, and we'll be drowning in information."

Daniel wasn't standing up quite yet, but it was obvious from his face that Lucifer's words had needled at his ego perhaps a bit too much. Hopefully, for Ms. Lopez's sake, he doesn't escalate this too far.

Then Detective Douche opened his mouth, and Lucifer's concern for Ms. Lopez was buried under white-hot rage.

Daniel's tone was irreverent, dismissive, uncaring—but Lucifer could ignore that. What he couldn't ignore was the words Daniel was spouting. "Actually, those cops were a lot better than I am. So since Chloe's decided she doesn't want to be here, we're going to have to rely on you, Lucifer. You think you and your own trick are up for that?"

Lucifer knew the Detective and Daniel had a good friendship even after their divorce. He knew that Daniel likely didn't mean the insult. Daniel was likely just poking at one of Lucifer's sensitive points, and was in a mood of 'damn the consequences.'

But Lucifer didn't care.

Insulting the Detective's fleeing was fundamentally wrong! She had seen something horrible, something that didn't belong in this world, and here Detective Douche was indirectly mocking it? No, this wouldn't stand.

Lucifer stood up and yanked aside his chair, in his rage leaving small imprints of his fingers on the chair's metal frame. Then Lucifer stalked over to Daniel, and hauled him out of his chair.

Spinning around, Lucifer pressed Daniel up against the wall, grasping him by his collar as Lucifer made his outrage clear. "I'm sorry. Would you care to repeat that?"

Daniel laughed at that, the laugh's nervous tone only escalating Lucifer's rage. This was not a laughing matter.

But then Daniel began to repeat his previous insult, and the laugh suddenly seemed so minor in comparison Lucifer almost forgot about it. "Really? Are you really that bad at listening? I said that since Chloe decided she'd rather travel Europe than spend time with you, we've got to—"

Daniel didn't get the chance to finish that sentence, as he was entirely too busy with Lucifer shoving him into the wall. Really, Daniel was lucky. Lucifer was about an inch of restraint from breaking some of his bones.

Instead, Lucifer would have to settle for the devastation of some very hurtful truths. Thinking only of what would hurt Daniel the most, Lucifer began to growl out his response. "Daniel, you are—"

Lucifer was cut off as a pained, distraught voice cried out, "Okay, both of you! Stop it THIS INSTANT!"

Was that… Ms. Lopez? Oh, no.

Lucifer immediately dropped Daniel. His rage wasn't worth inflicting this kind of pain on Ella.

Ella stalked over to them, her face full of outrage and words full of criticisms. "¡Dan! ¡Cállate la boca antes de dices una cosa tú no puedes retirar! Pero probablemente ya hayas dicho algo sobre eso, ¡así que solo deja de hablar!"

Then, Ella directed her cutting words towards Lucifer. "Y Lucifer! Yo esperaba esto de Dan, ¿pero tú también? ¿Por qué necesitas continuar la pelea cuando sabes que ocurrió a Dan solo dos semanas antes?"

At that, Lucifer could do nothing but hang his head. Ella was right—Lucifer had forgotten that Dan was grieving, and had escalated the conflict as a result.

Dan was back on his feet now, standing next to Lucifer as they both listened to Ella. But at this point, Ella seemed entirely done with the both of them. "Both of you, just—just go start interrogating the witnesses. They'll be cycling through our typical interrogation room, so both of you should know where to go. And I want the both to work together with each other in the interrogations. It's the only way you're going to work through this. Got it?"

The two, ashamed looks pasted on both their faces, nodded to confirm they understood. Then, deeply uncomfortable for some reason, Lucifer hurriedly left the conference room, Daniel following right behind.

The two walked through the police precinct, navigating their way through the glass walls. As they did so, Daniel started to talk, his voice now calm rather than merely numb. "Look, I'm not going to apologize for that. But I'll do my best to get through this case without saying anything like that, alright?

Lucifer huffed a little at that, but it likely was the best he was going to get without the Detective there to help him out. "Very well. I'll do the same."

"Alright. Then let's get into the case."

Strangely enough, here, Daniel didn't seem to slip into that bland tone from the conference room, even despite how he was obviously using information from the folder. "We're going to be interviewing seven witnesses, starting with the one from yesterday's killing and ascending up the list. They will al—"

Lucifer cut him off, genuinely confused by something Dan had said. "Sorry, but I thought there had been eight murders. Where's the missing witness?"

Smugness rolled off of Dan Espinoza. Evidently, whatever this was had been his idea- and he was quite proud of it.

His voice so confident it almost felt like he was gloating, Dan told Lucifer his answer. "That's what Maze and that new partner of hers are for."


Percy had enjoyed the ride over to the precinct. There had been something familiar about racing a motorcycle through a city that just seemed to twinge at Percy's lost memories, something that had niggled at him even as he held tight to Mazikeen.

Had Percy ridden a motorcycle with Annabeth? It didn't feel right. But what did Percy know?

Well, apparently, the secrets of the universe.

Lucifer's lecture had been a lot less helpful than Percy had thought it would be. And some of those facts he'd been given—they'd seemed so unbelievable that Percy just wanted to call Lucifer a liar and walk away. Yet he couldn't.

For when Percy had heard those lessons, each and every one had seemed to slot into his mind just as Lupa's lessons had. But while Lupa's lessons comforted Percy, made him feel as if he had some control over his fate, Lucifer's had done exactly the opposite.

For a while there, Percy had just been frozen in place, struck by the realization that in the grand scheme of things, he truly did not matter.

Percy had eventually done his best to move past it, take a nap in some revitalizing water and wake up to a fresh perspective.

Instead, he'd woken up to a demon in his face.

Granted, the demon did seem rather more pleasant than Percy might have imagined. After all, Mazikeen had promised to help him find Annabeth. And though she seemed perpetually rude to everyone she spoke to, she did genuinely seem like she wanted to help.

Besides, how bad a person could she be when she hunted bad people for a living?

And on that note, it looked like the bubbly forensic scientist had turned her attention back to Maze and him.

Her features had softened from their hard lines, the tongue-lashing she'd given Lucifer and that guy he was arguing with obviously taking a lot out of her. "Sorry about that, Maze."

Maze smirked. "We're good. It was actually sort of fun watching those two tear into each other like that. Now, what do you want us to do?"

At that, the forensic scientist glanced over at Percy and squinted for a moment, evidently curious about something. "Yeah, about that 'us'. Who's this guy?"

Oh. She's curious about me.

So Percy extended his hand across the table, grasping Ellen's own hand and gently shaking it. Maze had been very clear on that—Ellen was her friend, and Percy was not to harm her friends.

Percy got that. He really did. So he shook Ellen's hand gently, and he spoke with less biting humor and more of what little politeness he had in him after a few months of literally being raised by wolves. "I'm Percy, and if all goes well, I'm going to be working with Maze as a bounty hunter."

There, Ellen raised an eyebrow. "You got a partner, Maze? Well, good for you!"

Maze grunted. "He's not my partner yet. Right now, he's just trying out for the job. We'll see."

Well, partners hadn't exactly been how Maze described to Percy when she proposed the deal. And Percy was pretty sure Maze shouldn't be lying to her friends so easily.

But then again, white lies were hardly the worst thing in the world. And it was probably pretty hard to explain to your mortal friends, "this demigod guy lost his memories and wants to track down some random girl, so I'm having him work with me as payment for finding the girl."

Well, the point was moot now. Ellen seemed to have bought the explanation. "Alright, then. Though I'd swear I recognized him from somewhere…"

Ellen snapped her fingers, apparently trying to think of how she knew him.

How did she know him? Percy didn't know. His hope was surging, his mind running a million miles a minute with constant speculations.

Did Ellen know something about his past? Was Ellen from his past? Did Ellen know where Annabeth was?

Then, the snapping stopped, and Ellen pointed at him in shock. "You're that guy Lucifer mojoed at the beach!"

Oh. Well, that was disappointing.

I mean, Percy should have expected it. What were the chances that he'd run into someone from his past that quickly?

Now, instead of learning the truth about himself, Percy had to explain what was going on with more lies. "Yeah, after I woke up at the hospital, Lucifer apologized and said I could stay with him for a bit to make up for all that. So I was over there at his penthouse, and—-"

Here Maze cut in, and Percy was deeply grateful, because he had zero idea what he was going to say next to explain how they'd tried to kill each other and somehow ended up helping each other.

"I stopped by. Percy was there, and—well, let's just say he impressed me enough that I was willing to try working with him."

Huh. That was actually pretty close to the truth.

Still, Ellen did seem pretty weirded out by that story (though Percy wasn't sure why).

Regardless, after that moment of surprise, Ellen started speaking once more. "Now, look. Before you take this job, I want you to know that the precinct can't pay you for it. It's not a bounty. This is just me asking for a favor from a friend… uh, and her maybe-partner. But if you did decide to take it, you'd really be helping our investigation."

Percy needed time to think about the offer. He wanted to help. He really did. But if he did this, would he have enough time to fulfill their deal? Would Mazikeen give him any leeway?

But apparently. Mazikeen needed precisely no time to think. "Of course we will. You and I, we're friends, Ellen. Now what's the job?"

Ellen closed her eyes there, for some reason frustrated. Then she muttered at Mazikeen, "It's Ella. El-la." and Percy understood.

Unclenching her eyes, Mazikeen's friend (whose name was apparently Ella, not Ellen) seemed to let go of her frustration. "Still, thank you, Maze. I appreciate it. Now, as for the job, you're going to be tracking down one of the Performer's witnesses that we couldn't get a hold of. She's in the wind after the 'Tsunami of the Century' smashed her home to bits and made her a refugee."

Wait, what?

Maze seemed similarly confused, asking, "Sorry, but what is that?"

Ella was dumbfounded. "You know, the fifty foot tsunami that destroyed half of San Francisco? How do you not know about this!?"

Maze said something to respond, but Percy wasn't listening. His ears rung, and his eyes were wide with shock.

He'd done that. He'd destroyed half a city trying to save his own life.

Staggering up to Ella, interrupting Maze's explanation, Percy clasped Ella's hand in his own.

Pleasingly, his barely a croak, he asked the only question that mattered in that moment. "How many are dead?"

Ella's face dropped into sadness, and she clasped her other hand around Percy's in sympathy. "Yeah, it's pretty horrible. They're not sure yet, but current estimates are saying something like thirty six thousand people are dead, with a lot more than that seriously injured. But it's not all bad. The Red Cross is already starting an initiative to help, and…"

Ella trailed off. Percy couldn't blame her—if anything, he probably looked like more of a wreck than before she'd started talking.

To Percy's relief, Maze stepped in. "We need a moment."

Ella awkwardly released Percy's hand and stepped away, leaving the conference room. As she did that. Maze placed her hand on the small of Percy's back, and guided him into the corner of the room.

Percy could say one thing about Maze—she didn't beat around the bush. "You're the one who caused that tsunami, right?"

"Yeah." It was strange, but… having someone who knew what he'd done? It really, genuinely helped.

That support was probably what gave Percy the courage to say what he did next. "We are going to find that woman."

Percy couldn't undo what he'd done, but if he could help at least one of the people he'd hurt—well, it wouldn't get rid of the guilt. But it would certainly help.

Maze responded, her voice confident. "Yeah, we are. Because you're working with me. I am the best hunter Hell's ever known, and I do not fail. Got it?"

Percy smiled at that, turning to face her. "Yeah. Got it."

And as they called Ella in to receive some details about their target, Percy couldn't help but think he was glad to have Maze on his side.