Chapter Three: The Modern Man
"What happened to you?" Jamie asked, as she approached to take the duct tape off Peter's face. Hmn, if she took it off slowly it wouldn't hurt as much…
"Whoa, hold on—the Tin Man here is your father?!" Vince exclaimed.
Orwell ripped the tape off quickly and was spared answering as shouting filled the air.
"YOU! You son of a bitch! You useless, brainless—"
"You two still hate each other. I guess some things will never change," Jamie sighed. "Vince, do me a favor, go inside and find where he keeps his oil can. And grab something to cut these ropes off of him, too while you're at it."
"Not that I don't appreciate the sentiment, but don't go sending him into my home! Who do you think taped my mouth shut?" Peter asked.
"Of course he did, why am I not surprised?" Jamie looked at Vince and pointed meaningfully at the chateau until he trudged away to do as she'd asked, before turning back to her father. "He's not the reason you're bound and rusted over here, though, is he? What happened?" she asked, thinking 'Who else did you piss off?'
"The Wicked Witch," he replied.
"Naturally."
"She turned everything I was wearing to metal. Do give me some credit; I am intelligent enough that I wouldn't accidentally wind up in a predicament like this. Unlike your travelling companion, who probably doesn't have the sense to get in out of the rain."
"Hey, I'm smarter than to think someone could accidentally get tied up. That Witch is into the belt-and-suspenders approach, huh? Thank you, Vince," she said as her partner returned to her side, "let me borrow that knife first." Before slashing Peter's ropes, she used the blade to prick her index finger. It bled, but there was no pain and she still didn't wake up from her drugged slumber. Alright, there was no reason to panic. She would wake up sooner or later. In the meantime, she started slicing through the chords that bound Peter's extremities.
"So, when Vince called you Heartless earlier, I don't suppose that was a comment on your sterling personality?" Now done with the ropes, she reached for the oil can.
"I had my heart removed after my wife and daughter were murdered," he said bluntly, as she oiled the seams of his now metallic costume.
"That's a lot darker than I expected this world to be," she frowned. Maybe she shouldn't be surprised. In any event, this only seemed like the movie. Everything around her was a product of her mind…and she never did stop wondering what had happened to her mother.
"They were both killed? Your wife and your daughter?" she clarified.
"Yes, they," Peter took a moment to take a good look at his rescuer. "You remind me of her, of Jessie. You look so much like my daughter… What did you say your name was?"
"It's Jamie. Okay, that should do it. See if you can move now."
"I thought you said he was your father," Vince hissed as Peter stretched and started moving around.
"He…looks like my dad. Just like I remind him of his daughter and you remind me of someone I know back in Palm City.
"Hey, Peter? Is it okay if we spend the night here? We'll head out first thing in the morning, I promise. We're on our way to see the Wizard, we just need to recharge first."
"You're going to see the Wizard?" he asked.
"Yeah, Frodo and I," she stopped and shook her head. Frodo wouldn't be coming back with her to Palm City because the real Frodo had been buried a long time ago. She looked down at the finger she had pricked. She had to remember none of this was real. She started over. "I need to get back where I belong and Vince is going to ask for some brains. You suddenly have an urge to join us and ask for another heart?"
"No, I'm afraid I've no more use for hearts… On the other hand, I suppose it couldn't hurt to ask for revenge…"
"Frodo, we are definitely not in the fairytale anymore."
"What was that?" her father asked.
"Never mind. Fine, you can come with us and ask the Wizard for whatever you want, but can we rest for the night first?"
"Very well; follow me."
Meanwhile, back in the real world:
"Alright, who's next?" Lucifer Morningstar called. The Devil, who had already started on an indefinite hiatus from running Hell, had also taken a break from making deals. Owning a nightclub and consulting for the Los Angeles Police Department were rather time consuming, after all (not to mention steadily adding residents of the City of Angels to your list of conquests).
But now this anonymous figure calling himself the Sinnerman, who had had Lucifer kidnapped and somehow must have been responsible for returning Lucifer's wings and confiscating what he called his "Devil face," had also had the temerity to steal Lucifer's shtick. People who once would have made deals with the Devil himself had started turning to this Sinnerman to solve their problems.
Well that ended now. There was only one Devil and no one had the right to steal his act. It was time to go back to (one of the things) he did best.
Hence here he was, ensconced at one of the booths at his nightclub, Lux, as if he were sitting on a throne, a line of humans gathered in front of him, each hoping that Lucifer Morningstar would fulfill their greatest desire (even if none of them truly believed he was the actual Devil).
Up stepped the next human in line, a British expatriate that Lucifer recognized.
"No," Lucifer rejected him before the man could speak.
"You haven't even heard what I have to say," the billionaire protested.
"I'm not interested in what Peter Fleming has to say," Lucifer looked disgusted. "The CEO of ARK Corporation, didn't I already give you your greatest desire last time? You got everything you wanted, fame, fortune, power. And look what you've done with them. I know all about your sins, Chess, and believe me when I say that you will be punished for them."
Peter, being who he was, had greater self-restraint than to demand Morningstar tell him how he knew his greatest secret. He had no intention of admitting in public that he was the multiple-murderer that was believed to be dead. He glanced around, faux casually, to see if others had overheard the accusation. It appeared that no one had. Or perhaps the youngsters waiting in line, being from LA and not Palm City, had failed to recognize his moniker. It sometimes astounded him how his city's local news, which, by rights, should have garnered national, if not international, attention, never seemed to travel further than the city's borders. Maybe he needed to start purchasing more media outlets…
"I would have thought the Devil would be happy about owning another soul," he finally responded.
"Don't believe everything you hear," Lucifer snorted. He was so tired of people making assumptions about him. "There's a difference between punishing those who have done evil and wanting people to do evil."
"And this is the part where you tell me to go to Hell?" Fleming raised an eyebrow.
"Couldn't have said it better myself. Don't let the door hit you on the way out," the fallen angel dismissed him.
"So much for your legendary Faustian deals. Very well," he raised his voice as he turned to leave. "I guess if you can't help me, Lucifer Morningstar, I'll just have to take my business elsewhere. Perhaps I'll have better luck with the Sinnerman—"
"Now wait just a moment! Let's not be too hasty," Lucifer made sure to keep his smile in place, though he was inwardly fuming. Like Hell he was going to let word spread that the Sinnerman had more to offer than the Devil. "I never said I couldn't help you," he continued, as the human turned back towards him. "I'll bite. Why don't you tell me why you're here? What is it that you desire?"
"I want to be reunited with my daughter."
Orwell's Mind:
"Jamie, this is a stupid idea. Did you hear him? He's planning to ask the Wizard for revenge. Why did you ask him to join us in the first place?" Vince whispered the next morning, as they waited for Peter to be ready to leave.
"I figured he was going to end up joining us one way or another, better to just accept the inevitable. Do you hear something?" There was a voice coming from the Tin Man's bedroom. It sounded like swearing…
"THAT BLOODY WITCH!" Peter banged his door open. Jamie was surprised to see that he appeared to be wearing exactly what she'd found him in the day before, sans mask. "I thought the Witch of the East only turned the clothes I'd been wearing to metal. Turns out she ruined all of my clothes! What the hell am I supposed to do now?!"
"Take the oil can with you," Jamie responded without missing a beat. "Are you still coming? I should warn you that—" A bang sounded from outside the manor. The three rushed outside and came face to face with Gregor Molotov.
"Daddy's girl, there you are! Found papa, did you? You should warn your new friends that if they get in my way, I'll deal with them the same way I'll deal with you. Now, give me that cape!"
Ohhh, if only she knew how to use the cape properly, she could take a good swing at him and—wait, this was her dream. She could do whatever she wanted. Couldn't be too hard. Just grab the cape, swing it at Gregor and—bang!
"He disappeared again," Jamie clenched her fists.
"Again?" Peter asked.
"Sorry, I should've told you earlier. The Wicked Witch of the West is after me," Jamie explained.
"That was the Witch of the West?" There was a strange gleam in Peter's eyes.
"Yep, that was him," she confirmed. "Why?"
"Because that was one of the men that killed my family. Let's go see this Wizard."
By the time they had entered the forest, Jamie was well and truly sick of hearing Vince and her father snipe at each other.
"Enough! Just call a truce until we get to Oz, please! At this point, I'd rather deal with lions and tigers and bears then listen to one more minute of this!"
On cue, there was rustling in the trees and bushes up ahead.
"What was that?" Vince asked.
"I think we're not alone anymore," Peter replied.
"Show yourself!" Jamie called into the shadows. The rustling continued. Someone was getting closer to them. Suddenly, a man leaped out onto the path, snarling at them.
He wore jeans and a black leather jacket that Jamie was willing to bet read "LIONS" on the back. A set of brass knuckles sat on one fist.
"Who dares to disturb the King of the Forest?" the Lion demanded.
Huh, and here Jamie was sure that Rollo would have been cast as a munchkin…
Author's Note: This is apparently what happens when I want to write for "Lucifer" but don't want to start a new fic when I already have an ongoing Work In Progress. Voila: a new scene for the latest chapter and a new twist for the fic. Well, I never did learn when to stop adding fandoms to a crossover. Hope this combo works, but there's only one way for you to let me know. (Hint: review.)
Chapter title from "Mr. Roboto."
Remember Lucifans: #SaveLucifer. #PickUpLucifer.
