~Several hours later~

I am currently standing in what may be the rattiest, most obviously criminal area of New York City that there has ever been in the history of any universe I know of, fictitious or otherwise. The streets are filthy, the buildings are seedy, and the few people out and about right now look shifty as all hell. If I wasn't currently in possession of literal deific powers beyond mortal ken, I'd be highly worried about the all-too-likely possibility of getting grabbed off the sidewalk and shanked in a nearby alleyway.

Or, perhaps more likely, offered up as some sort of blood sacrifice in an attempt to summon one of the denizens of Inferno to this plane.

I grimace. I wish I was kidding about that, but no, that's apparently considered a serious risk around here. I believe it too — even if I hadn't gotten that information straight from the Right Eye, one of the things I figured out before arriving here is how to sense and detect demonic energy, and this neighborhood practically reeks of it. Taken alongside the fact that "Devil Hunter" is apparently considered a legitimate occupation in these parts, I'm willing to bet that such demonic summoning efforts are not only relatively commonplace, but succeed at least often enough to be a consistent problem for the local populace.

Hardly any wonder this place got nicknamed "The Dump".

I shake my head in distaste, my hair shifting around behind me as I do — yes, hair, not hair-ribbons. As soon as I decided to take this little field trip, finding a way to become, or at least make myself look human again immediately became priority number one. Not that it was ultimately any more difficult than everything else I've tried so far. A thought, a question, and the barest touch of will, and I immediately found myself restored to humanity...

My glasses — which I've never actually needed before, and technically still don't — slip down my nose slightly, prompting me to push them back into place.

...albeit with a few key differences from my former appearance. Still, I'm fine with that. For my current purposes, looking like this might actually work to my advantage, and I hardly want to be walking around as "myself" in this universe anyways. Conveniently, taking human form also seems to stop the auto-translation of my words into Enochian, meaning that I can now speak normally again.

Though, I imagine the person I'm here to speak with would have little trouble understanding me regardless.

I turn once more to stare up at the sign hanging over the entrance to the bar I've been loitering in front of for the past several minutes, slanted words reading "The Gates of Hell" lit up in neon purple beneath the image of a cartoonish, pistol-wielding demon.

You'd think that with power like the kind I now possess on my side, I wouldn't be so nervous about the prospect of simply strolling inside and having a quick chat with this place's proprieter. Yet I am, and rightfully so I think — Rodin is not someone to take lightly, no matter who you are. In fact, as things currently stand he's nearly my equal in power, despite most of his former might being sealed at the moment. He's also got a hell of a lot more experience to back that power up with, being not only the notorious "Demonsmith" who goes out and personally takes on enormously powerful demons in order to forge their souls into Bayonetta's weapons, but also a former Deus-rank angel, whose level of divinity at one time very nearly rivaled mine.

I shudder. If I go about this the wrong way, I imagine I could easily end up getting "forged" myself — I bet someone would pay top dollar for a weapon containing the literal soul of God.

Seeing as how I'd very much prefer not to end up getting shoved inside a pair of nunchucks or the like, I prepped rather extensively for this visit. Not only did I take the time to figure out even more of what I'm currently capable of, I made sure to check and double check with the Right Eye that I would make it out of this alive, asking dozens of variations on the same basic question in an attempt to cover all my bases. While I couldn't outright predict how a theoretical conversation with Rodin would go, presumably due to its intended subject matter, I still managed to come up with some strategies that I think should keep me safe...

I purse my lips. Though, without being certain of Loptr's current status, I'm admittedly not sure how "trustworthy" any of those strategies are. If his spirit is conscious right now, despite technically being sealed away twice over, then he presumably wants me either corrupted, incapacitated, or just plain dead... and if he's capable of influencing the Right Eye to even a small degree, this seems like it would be a pretty perfect opportunity for him to feed me false information through it and prompt one of the latter scenarios, no further manipulation necessary.

That said, I can't just discount everything the Right Eye has to offer me either. There's a decent chance that Loptr is neither awake nor aware enough at the moment to do anything at all, and the information the Right Eye capable of granting me is simply too valuable a resource not to use in the event that it isn't compromised. Since I can't know for certain whether it is or not, this is going to be a major risk... but it's one I'm just going to have to take.

My expression firms.

Let's do this.

Drawing in a breath — which honestly feels rather weird after having not been breathing for the past several hours, something I hadn't actually noticed until I took human form again — I grab the handle of the door in front of me, pull it open, and walk inside with all the fake confidence I can muster.

The interior of the building looks pretty much exactly as I expected it to — namely, virtually nothing like a normal bar. Sure, it's about as dimly lit as one, and there's a couple of currently empty tables at the front of the room that are obviously meant to used by patrons, but so far as I'm aware, most bars don't have solid stone walls sculpted into intricate gothic archways that encircle the entirety of the room. They also don't generally have giant winged faces carved into the ceiling, leering down at the room's occupants from on high, nor an extensive number of vivid red curtains, hanging down from the aforementioned archways like miniature waterfalls of blood, nor a rather large antique gramophone, itself watched over by an even larger gargoyle.

I crinkle my nose. I'll give the place this though — it's certainly got the cloying tobacco smoke smell down pat.

Doing my best to ignore the scent, I focus in on the back of the room, where the bar itself stands within a small, nicely-carpeted pit. Standing behind the half-circle countertop is the obvious source of the pervasive odor: a tall, heavily-muscled black man with a shaved head, numerous dark facial tattoos, and a lit cigar perched between his lips.

As I watch, he sets a record on the gramophone to his right, whereupon it begins playing a slow, subtle jazz piece that I don't recognize in the slightest. I can't help but think it's a rather odd bit of ambiance to have present for the conversation I expect to have shortly, but perhaps the music will help keep things calm?

Mentally bracing myself, I walk forward towards the counter, stepping down off the wooden bar floor and onto the carpet below. There aren't any stools to sit on there for some reason, so instead I simply lean forward on the bar itself, doing my best to smile as Rodin turns towards me.

"So!" I say cheerily. "If you were a celestial deity recently resurrected from a multi-millennia long slumber and had the evil half of the God of Chaos stuck inside your eye, which you couldn't get out without potentially sending yourself back into an eternal coma, what would you do?"

Rodin shows no initial reaction to my opening statement, merely staring me from across the bar for a long, silent moment.

"Not a rhetorical question, just by the by." I add. "Genuinely looking for advice right now."

"Of all the people to come knockin' at my door..." Rodin finally says, slowly removing the cigar from his mouth. "The hell are you doin' here?"

"Asking for advice." I reply. "Thought I made that pretty clear, honestly."

I'm playing with fire, acting so casually about this. My intent in doing so is to be as deliberately disarming as possible, thus throwing off any potential "reflex" responses Rodin might have, such as pulling out the infernal shotgun he has stored under the counter. Even if the Right Eye can tell me what might work to get me through this however, it doesn't necessarily mean I'm pulling it off properly — that part is entirely up to me, and my not-necessarily-believable acting.

I try not to wince at the thought.

Still, so long as I don't attack first, Rodin won't attack either, or at least so my Eye of Questionable Trustworthiness assures me. As such, hopefully I won't have to worry about that one way or other... hopefully.

"Really now?" Rodin replies in kind. "And why come to me for that? I ain't exactly too fond of you, as you well know."

He tilts his ever-present shades down, revealing burning red eyes glaring at me over the lenses.

"Wouldn't be down here if not for you, after all."

The sudden accusation catches me off guard, but I do my best to roll with it and recover.

"Er... sorry?" I say. "Don't actually remember that to be perfectly honest. Everything from before I took my absurdly long nap is kind of a blur."

Rodin's brow raises slightly, even as he pushes his sunglasses back into place.

"That so?"

"Yep." I say. "Honestly, ever since someone finally woke me up this morning, I've been pretty busy just trying to reacquaint myself with... everything."

That's essentially the truth, which is quite intentional. While I don't plan on telling Rodin about my "former self", I do intend to be as upfront with him as possible for just about everything else, as it will make him significantly less inclined to believe I have some sort of ulterior motive in coming here. That's also part of why I kept my new "default" human appearance instead of bothering to change it to something slightly less attention-grabbing — if I'm trying to be candid with Rodin, doing something that could be construed as attempting to hide my identity would only be counterproductive.

Not like he wouldn't have seen through it anyways, after all.

Rodin goes silent again for another long moment. Then he suddenly starts chuckling, his deep voice overpowering the nearby music and echoing unsettlingly throughout the otherwise empty room.

"Something... funny...?" I ask uneasily.

"Oh, nothin' much." Rodin replies with a lighthearted air. "Just thinking... if I took all the power you got stored up in that halo you're hidin' right now, I bet I'd be able to get back to my old self real fast."

He grins. "Might even be able to hold onto it permanently."

My eyes go wide, and I quickly scramble back from the bar.

Shit, is he serious?! It's true that Rodin needs vast quantities of angelic power to regain his own angelic form, which is implied to be the entire point of his business with Bayonetta. As the owner of what is perhaps the highest concentration of angelic power currently in existence, I did consider that something of the sort may occur to him — I just also assumed the previous assurance that Rodin wouldn't attack me without provocation would cover that. Would him stealing the entirety my power somehow not count as an attack?! If not, then what kind of planet-sized oversight did I just-

Rodin interrupts my internal panic by laughing again, harder this time.

"Then again," he drawls, "this ain't exactly what I was expectin' when I heard someone finally kicked your ass awake, and I gotta admit, you got me a little curious as to why. So no worries... why don't you step back on over here?"

I don't move. Was that a suggestion, or a demand?

I check, and find myself relieved — it really was just meant as a suggestion, and not even a threatening one, meaning that Rodin probably isn't actually about to try and shove his fist through my heart the moment I get close enough for him to do so. Thank goodness...

Wariness fading somewhat, I return to my previous position, trying not to pout. For all that I can claim to be at least semi-omniscient now, I'm quickly discovering that it only makes it all the more frustrating when I'm caught off guard by something, since it means that not knowing about it was probably my own fault for not thinking of it to begin with.

"You don't need to intentionally scare me like that you know." I say.

Seriously, this is stressful enough as is... though, it would probably be a lot less so if I wasn't stuck attending this conversation in person. One of my first thoughts on how to go about this was to simply make and send a false body in my place, controlling it from afar while my real self remained safe in Purgatorio, but apparently Rodin would have nigh-immediately noticed and destroyed it had I actually done so. Other, similar ideas ended up having almost the exact same failure point, so coming as myself ended up being my only real option — or maybe Loptr just wanted me to think it was my only real option. But I can't worry about that right now.

Rodin scoffs. "Scared? This from the woman almost single-handedly responsible for the First Armageddon?"

I shrug. "Don't know anything about that. Like I said, having some memory issues... plus, I'm not exactly operating on a full tank at the moment. Which is part of the problem I came here to talk about, since I'm pretty sure that my current power source may have something of a terminal defect."

"Defect?" Rodin repeats, idly picking his cigar back up and rolling it between his fingers.

"That would be the aforementioned God of Chaos." I elaborate. "See, the guy who woke me up was kind of possessed by the evil side of said god's soul, which is what spurred him on to try and unseal me in the first place. Not that I'm exactly complaining about that, but he also used himself as a catalyst for said unsealing, so now the guy is stuck inside me, along with his own passenger by proxy. Which, since said passenger demonstrably had something of a serious corrupting effect on the last vessel his spirit was housed in, I'm naturally kinda worried about."

I think about it for another second, before tacking on "Also, he's sort of the original owner of the thing that's powering me right now, and may or may not have some degree of control over it, and therefore over me. So... yeah, I want him out. Was kind of hoping you could help with that."

Rodin takes all this in without comment, remaining remarkably stone-faced in the face of all that information, before finally replying about ten seconds later.

"I already got a pretty good guess in mind, but humor me. What exactly is this power source you're goin' on about?"

Unable to help myself, I flex my will, and my right eye briefly lights up with an entire spectrum of shining colors.

"The Right Eye of Light."

Rodin stills for a brief moment, then laughs again, though this time it's little more than a low chuckle at the back of his throat.

"Hah... the more I hear outta you, the more you're startin' to remind me of someone else I know." he says.

I blink, not entirely certain what to make of that comment.

"Really?" I ask. "Who's that?"

"Just a girl who stops by to shop from time to time." Rodin remarks. "Might be my best customer, matter a' fact. Certainly the one who keeps the most halos on hand."

Oh. Uh...

"But what am I sayin'?" Rodin continues. "You two have already met, ain't ya? After all, she was in here just a few hours ago..."

He smirks.

"Askin' about you."

Behind me, I hear the front entrance suddenly open, accompanied by a sudden surge of demonic energy.

"Speak of the devil..." Rodin says.

'...and she shall appear.' my mind automatically finishes.

Shit.