He watches in silence. He has seen it all. It has gone long enough. All these chaotic tomfoolery. The man shall pay for his crimes in accordance to human laws. The human will pay his due again for when his time has come.
"That's enough," his voice booms, and he freezes a second's flash between the Lilim's blade and the human's heart. A beating heart goes still. The Lilim's blade hangs suspended in the air. And all around them are petrified like stationary statues. His wings—black and large—snaps open.
"Brother, how nice of you to join us," Lucifer opens, his lips bearing a brazen grin. His arms folded over his chest. His eyes of luminescent amber sparkling with amusement.
"Lilim, his penance is not your decision," Amenadiel admonishes. His left wing swipes the blade away. It clangs unceremoniously on the ground. He withdraws his wing back, hands clasped together in front of him.
The Lilim slips into an attacking position, her blade already in her hand. Given the chance, she rather take Amenadiel head on. She forgoes her glamour—Amenadiel notes the disfigured half of her face and her brain matter exposed. He lets out a sigh of disgust. Reckless Lilim. But it's not his concern for the moment. For time is frozen for everyone but them three.
Lucifer shifts his weight to his other leg. Raises a hand to halt the Lilim. "Mazikeen, Amenadiel has a point," his brother agrees, "Maybe he'll rot in jail. Perhaps not." The Lilim snarls at Amenadiel, yet returns to Lucifer's side.
Lucifer rubs his chin. His lips quirking into a broad smirk. "I was beginning to wonder when you will honour us with your divine presence." He gestures at the unconscious teenagers lying on the ground. "It would have been nice to have you popping up before the children are harmed."
Amenadiel levels a stern look at his brother. "Father wants you to return to Hell," he decrees.
"The Old Man's desire is not my concern," Lucifer bristles.
"It's His command for you to take your place in Hell."
"The last I heard through the grapevine, Father sent his obedient angels to govern it," Lucifer states, peering at his fingernails like they're far important compared to Amenadiel. "Either way, my presence is unwarranted."
"Remiel and Duma are not the ones who are supposed to reign over Hell," Amenadiel counters.
"What? You don't like their job performance?" Lucifer scoffs. "Remiel and Duma are doing one hell of a job, seeing how they manage to make Hell even worse than when I was part of Hell's triumvirate." He lifts his eyebrow cockily. His grin widens. "Isn't that what Father's grand idea of Hell was?" He emphasises the word 'Father' with absolute disdain.
Amenadiel's wings aberrantly flare in a moment of unrestrained anger. Amenadiel takes a deep breath in, pinching the bridge of his nose. Dealing with a stubborn Sam—Lucifer is impossible and never endears Lucifer to Amenadiel. He hasn't win a single riposte against Lucifer's poisoned tongue. Guess that score's still intact.
"Now, if you don't mind, brother." Lucifer directs a thumb at the mortal children, "I like to get home and wash up in the next two hours. But if you want to explain the authorities why they're missing two teenagers after a fun night, be my guest."
"You don't have your wings. You can't fly," Amenadiel points out.
"Yes, but mankind has wonderful technological advances since you last visited," Lucifer replies, smoothly. He reaches into his back pocket, producing a small matchbox and hands it over to Mazikeen the Lilim. "Strike a match, destination the penthouse, Mazikeen."
This kind of callous disrespect irks Amenadiel. He already made a mess, leaving Hell for Earth. Now, his dearest brother decides to flee and leave his problems for others to pick up. "Where you think you're going?" Amenadiel chides, his wings bristling.
Lucifer clucks his tongue twice. "Home. Like you graciously reminded me, I can't fly. Uber won't drive out here. So that leaves transportation via portal. You'd be amaze the tricks these parlour magicians could do with their boundless creativity."
"Done," Amenadiel agrees. He rescinds his hold over time. A human's heart beats again. A black feather glides across the air as the wind breeze blows. The man collapses on his knees, shaking from the fear.
Mazikeen straightens his legs and she stomps on them—the bones break from the impact. Her voice is hoarse and her words jumbled up in raw balderdash. "So he can't run away," she explains, shrugging her shoulders. She takes out an electronic device from her dress, dials a number and speaks to 911. She ends the call several minutes later. "They'll be here soon."
"Good work, Mazikeen," he says, lips curving into a smirk. "You want to stay, brother? You'd have to explain on why you're dressed for Halloween as a Roman centurion."
"I'm still keeping my eyes on you, brother," Amenadiel hisses, scornful. Amenadiel unfolds his wings large and spread out overhead. He flaps his wings for take-off and leaves.
