"I'll be back soon."
Overhearing, Zadkiel turned to give Amenadiel a disbelieving glance. "This is going to be a regular occurrence?"
"Yes."
The simple word, uttered in the calm voice, had Zadkiel averting his eyes in sudden respect, as he remembered his own inability to defeat an angel...and now the greatest warrior was so much more. "Just checking," he muttered, and with a barely discernible bow he was gone, heading back to the table where his parents sat. If he was looking for their support, he would be disappointed. Turning his back to his non-threatening sibling, Amenadiel gave a luminous smile to Chloe. "Heaven eagerly awaits your return."
"Oh," she said, motioning for him to stop, but she was smiling and blushing. Finally letting go of Dan's hand, she clasped Lucifer's and tried not to show her imminent panic attack. There she was, all forty-six years of her, about to fly down to earth...no plane, no helicopter, no parachute. Down to earth, where normal regular people made a big deal out of a little crow's feet. Would she go headfirst? Would they go too fast, or would it seem like she was flying and flying, and...and flying...
The menacing creak of the gate jolted her back into the fresh hell of the present. It was starting. Her nightmare... Automatically, her hand tightened around Lucifer's.
"Ah, easy, Detective. I'm strong, but I'm not stone."
She looked down in humiliation as the angels snickered.
"Well, that's not very nice," Lucifer said in exasperation. "I mean, this is after all her first time! And...if she can break me, I'd hate to see what she could do to those who are less than me."
"You think you're better than we are?" Zadkiel demanded.
"Oh, I guarantee you, I'm the worst. I was talking about strength."
"Uh, can we not get into a big testosterone thing right now?" Eve asked, but hushed as Zadkiel squared off on him.
"I'll vanquish you, Brother," Zadkiel said, "Anytime, anyplace."
"Really. You. Well―now I'm curious, exactly how many souls have you tortured beyond their breaking point?" Lucifer asked, and then held a hand up to his ear like he was listening for a response whispered in embarrassment. "Zero, eh? Yes, that's what I thought. My sympathies, truly, it must be dreadful to realize that the least deserving became the most capable. So many reasons I don't want to be you."
"I don't want to be me, either. Having to kill my own brother... Oh, no, I'm sorry, that was you. I do so wonder how many times you've knifed him in the belly."
"And I, Zaddie, I wonder what your breaking point is. I would like very much to learn."
They were both stopped short by a heavy hand on their shoulder, and they looked at Amenadiel's face, which looked rather mean for a god. "Let me remind you both; I will not tolerate this. Be peaceful...or I will send both of you to the Underworld―and neither of you will set foot in here again."
The brothers watched as a white light flashed quickly through his eyes. Then he let them go. "Leave, Lucy. Before you wear out your welcome."
"As you command, your higher-than-thou-ness," Lucifer grumbled, and Chloe took his hand, trying to maintain a firm but gentle grip. Then both angels, part-demon and part-human alike, opened their wings.
"Uh, excuse me! Excuse me," a passenger said, and smiled at the approaching stewardess. "Sorry to bother you again, but my son's actually allergic to peanuts, so if you could find something else―"
"Oh, I'm sorry. I'll just take that ba―" Her voice ran out as she saw the man and woman angel, flying slowly and feet-first beside the plane. Their normal clothing did nothing to dispel the shock of seeing the ginormous, feathery, impossibly divine wings. Over the crazy pounding of her heart, the stewardess heard passengers muttering amongst themselves.
"Did I drink too much?"
"Holy shit."
"I'm fucking hallucinating."
Seeing a plane full of statues gawking at them, Chloe smiled and waved before they sank below the bottom of the window.
"And that, my love, is why I go 500," Lucifer said upon landing.
Chloe gave a nervous laugh as she pried her hand off his. "Well, thanks for not taking my head off."
"Yes, that would make a gruesome family portrait, wouldn't it?"
She stepped back, crossing her arms and hoping dearly that she hadn't made a fool of herself on the way down... To her mind it was a little blurry. "Did Eve take it well?"
"She did. But she knew what she was getting into," he said, as he opened the balcony doors.
"Hell?"
"I managed to change her mind...for now at least. Though Maze might've had something to do with it," he added quietly.
"What?"
He spared her an awkward glance, in the middle of pouring a drink. "Well, it seems my almighty brother whisked Eve down to hell and showed her the drawbacks of spending one's eternity in Florida's nightmare. Apparently Michael has turned my once-faithful demon into a submissive lackey."
Chloe was trying to figure out how to respond when her cell phone began to chime. She dug it out of her pocket.
"Hello?"
"This is Wells. Lieutenant Wells―you remember me, right?"
"Yes, Lieutenant."
"Afonso Estrada's killer was apprehended while you were...wherever you flew off to," he said, and she couldn't help but smile at his choice of words. "Without a detective on his trail, he was able to get away with two more murders. His M.O. gave him away."
"Oh. Well, I'm glad he was caught."
"Don't be. I've called you six times. You have a stellar track record, so I'm willing to give you one more chance. Don't blow it."
"Yes, Lieutenant, and I'm..."
Her voice trailed off as the dial tone cut into her response. Hanging up, she looked at Lucifer, who was still offering her the drink. She pocketed her phone while shaking her head. "Uh, I better go. Wells is mad at me."
He shrugged and continued drinking, still holding onto what would have been her glass.
"You're going to drink them both, aren't you?"
"What else, waste it?"
"Sorry. I hate to fly and flee, but―"
"Duty calls. I understand," he said, and watched her walk towards the elevator. "Uh, Detective, maybe one day we can cut out the middleman."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, we are engaged, after all; maybe we should discuss living together."
She was quiet, shifting her stance as she avoided his eyes.
"No, don't say anything. Duty calls."
She turned without a word and pressed the elevator button, several times. Lucifer watched her, with the sinking realization that she actually was not going to say anything. "Uh, Detective, why don't you just fly?"
She gave an insincere laugh, like she was annoyed. "Because my legs work just fine, Lucifer, and I'm not trying to rack up air miles."
"Right..."
"I just need to get back to normal for a bit."
The doors whooshed shut between them; then, in her absence, Lucifer continued to drink. Carrying both glasses, he meandered over to the sofa and sat down, staring at the dark television screen with a bleak look on his face; suddenly he chuckled, leaning forward to empty his hands over the coffee table. "I know you're lurking in the shadows, Dromos," he said, and the untouched darkness filling his bedroom slithered slightly before a male demon emerged. He had fierce blue eyes, a white beard, and a scarred neck; he was handsome, in a misplaced Viking sort of way. In the underworld, where axes and swords were common among demons, he was home. Not in Los Angeles, and it showed with the way he continued to stand―confidently, but with a scowl on his face as he tried not to observe his surroundings with too much disapproval.
It was, after all, his king's castle.
Lucifer spared him another hasty glance. "If you've come to try and steal another baby―"
"No. No, my Lord," he quickly amended, though Lucifer hadn't given him so much as a warning glance. "I'm here because your brother―uh, God, sir, has appointed me to replace Mazikeen of Lilim as your bodyguard."
Lucifer smiled, even though he could feel his anger mounting. "Very well. I trust Amenadiel sees you as worthy."
"It would seem so, my king."
Lucifer was still smiling, and his tone was gentle―but there was a frightening look in his eyes. "There's no need for that anymore, Dromos; I am somewhat of a therapist now. In fact..." he said, and resolutely got to his feet. "All demons are hereby relieved of their post."
"What are you saying, my Lor... -cifer?"
"I'm saying I'm not the devil anymore. I'll have no more of this hell talk."
Dromos shifted nervously, trying his best to maintain eye contact. "Uh, what...what do we call it?"
"The Underworld will suffice."
"And the souls?"
"Hm... Redirecting them to heaven will take all of eternity, but I'll stay the course. What else am I to do, anyway? As for you, Dromos, you and all the other demons," he said, leaning forward again to pick up a glass, "You are free to do whatever you want. Take up some hobbies, acquire a job, tie yourself to the lifestyle of a mortal... All I ask is that you remember the rules."
He paused, frowning slightly as the demon began to chuckle. "I... I'm sorry, I must have misheard," Dromos said, "I could have sworn you just implied I should mould myself after humans!"
"It's not an implication, it's an order."
"Lucifer," this time the name came easier. Dromos stepped forward, raising his hands in a beseeching manner. "Let's not be hasty; you have been the devil for eons."
"It's not me. I was supposed to be an angel."
"Enough blasphemy. We can't destroy 59 billion years of hard work overnight; that's madness! And for one demon..."
"What?" Lucifer asked, with a chuckle.
"I know you. I know Mazikeen...and I know the two of you spent many days and nights in each other's company."
"Yes, that much is true. Now I have a hunch where you're going, and tread carefully, Dromos."
"You're telling me you and she never...became intimate?"
"Well, no, we have shared intimacy, but it never became...more than that. Tell me, why is this relevant?"
"You never lie, Lucifer...and knowing now that you and Mazikeen never shared a bed, I've never been more certain that what you are about to do is a mistake. Who are you stepping down for then―the human? Lucifer, nobody in the galaxy, nobody in any galaxy, is worth destroying 59 eons of commitment."
"And why not...eh? Who says I can't commit to something new―to someone special?"
"Special? What is so special about Chloe Decker?"
"Despite everything I did, she is a gift from my father."
"Everything is a gift from your father!"
Lucifer's amicable smile dipped into the darkness of an immortal's wrath. "Go work for someone else."
"Is that an order?"
Lucifer paused, glaring at the demon who so obviously wanted to call him king. "No. This is your order," he said, his voice suddenly powerful with an awakened power. "Leave me alone."
Dromos hesitated, then decided to obey him one last time; he was, after all, quite terrifying. So he bowed his head in acknowledgment of his order and turned around, going to the elevator and beginning the long, treacherous journey of trying to appear human. Dromos walked up to the elevator, reached out, pushed the button, and the doors came open―with Chloe standing inside. Looking flustered, she spared Dromos a fleeting glance while walking into the penthouse.
"Who the hell is this guy?"
"Uh," Lucifer smiled, sparing Dromos a nervous glance. "This is one of my demons. I'd like you to meet Dromos of Lilim."
Chloe was quiet, smacking her lips before finally turning around to offer a handshake. Her face was red. "It's nice to meet you."
"The feeling is not mutual."
She nodded, eyes going wide as she stared past the demon. "Yeah."
"It's alright. Dromos was just leaving. Give us a wave."
Instead of complying, Dromos shot him a look of daggers before turning around and stepping into the elevator.
"Hm. They're much easier to manipulate in hell," Lucifer muttered, and looked down at Chloe with a smile. She still faced away from him, and he reached up and brushed her hair aside, exposing her neck. "Why did you come back up here?" he asked.
"Oh, it's...not important."
"Of course it is."
She turned to face him, crossing her arms and avoiding eye contact as she bit her lip. To get her attention, he playfully tugged at her hair. "Something about the middleman?"
"Like I said," she began sadly, "It's nothing. Um, but―is-is he back because 'demons are roaming the earth' again?"
"What? No!" he said, with a slight chuckle. Realizing she was staring at him like he was in denial, he took her hand in his. "Detective, I assure you, everything is under control. In fact there's nothing to control; everything is absolutely and totally fine. Dromos was just up here to...replace Maze."
"What, why? What's happening to Maze?"
"Nothing's happening to Maze, nothing's even happening. I promise."
He never lied―although promises had more of a 60-40 success rate. Still, his smile was creeping her out; it was like she was looking at Michael.
"Lucifer," she said, her voice low. "Would you ever sleep with her?"
He came closer, touching her forehead. "Dearie me, did you hurt yourself? Did you get a concussion?"
She shook her head. "No, nothing. I just...heard Dromos."
She rotated slowly at the waist, avoiding eye contact.
"Right," he said, thoroughly confused. He was sure she was lying, but how on earth would she know?
Perhaps it was best if she wasn't looking into his eyes. She reached up and touched his face, kissing him when he bent down. Good―it felt right. He felt like Lucifer. Well, it was partially good; why did he have such a strange look in his eyes?
"Goodnight, Lucifer."
"Goodnight, Detective..."
He stood, frowning prettily at her backside as she stepped into the elevator once again. Sighing, he turned and examined his penthouse. "Okay," he called, "I better be alone! I don't need or want any other magical guests. In fact you'd best leave now because I'm takin' off my knickers. Any demons here who want to see my pitchfork?" he called, and his voice resonated through. He strode to the platform and stepped up, flicking on the light. Abandoned. "Thank God, finally," he snapped, and turned around―skittering back when he saw Amenadiel. "Gah! What the...fork do you want?"
"You need to go to hell now. I found McKinley and LeMec and sent them where they belong."
"Well, if they're where they belong, what's to set right?"
"I took care of my kingdom, Lucy. Now it's time you did the same."
"Kingdom? Hmm? I'm sorry, I don't have a clue what you're talking about."
"Yeah, yeah. Real cute, Lucy. You can't hide from me."
"But Michael can. Eh?"
Amenadiel averted his eyes, shifting awkwardly.
"Yeah... You sure you're omniscient?" Lucifer prodded, and hesitated when Amenadiel finally met his eyes. "Hold on... Are you asking for my help?"
"Look, I don't want to be an ass. But you'll go on my terms if not your own."
"Alright, alright. I'll go. Big ass."
Mazikeen had looked scary from a distance. Now that he was drawing close, she was utterly terrifying. Sitting on a large boulder, she held a double-headed battle axe larger than her head, and effortlessly switched it from one hand to the other as she stared off into the abysmal distance, hardly aware of her actions. Her hair spilled down her back in a curly mane, and the cape she wore was flipped over the boulder on which she sat.
"Switching it up from the ol' branding iron, eh?"
She didn't seem to register his presence at all. Skirting around the rock, Lucifer gazed into her eyes until suddenly she realized he was there. Recognizing instantly that it was the unscarred twin, she relaxed in almost the same instant she had bristled. "Lulu," she said bitterly, as though she was displeased with his company.
"Don't call me that...ever."
His words were harsh, but he had spoken beseechingly and his face was friendly. And sad. Maze studied him for a moment, then rolled her eyes and got to her feet. The cape slid off the log as she walked past it, pressing herself against his body. "Is something wrong, Lulu? You seem upset."
"Mazikeen, why are you still calling me that?"
"Sorry, kid. Michael's orders."
"Hell no longer has a king. And you... You are not controlled by Amenadiel any more than I was controlled by my dad; Michael, least of all. Rebel. Leave hell if you wish, as Eve chose to leave heaven."
"And do what?" she demanded, as he began to leave. "What am I supposed to do?"
"Whatever you bloody want!" he said in exasperation, as he turned to face her again. "You haven't rolled over once in your life. Why start now?"
"Because, I..." Her voice broke and she had to fight back tears. "I-I want to kill him."
"My dad? Yes, I know," he said, as he meandered back to where she stood. He reverently touched her perfect face, frozen in its hybrid form.
"That doesn't...anger and repulse you?"
"My dad's a god, Mazie. You could never kill him. You also happen to be a soulless demon, incapable of eternal damnation, so...frankly, it'd be fun to watch you try."
"Are you...giving me your blessing?"
His hand was still on her cheek, and her eyes flicked up to meet his; the light of the fire all around them could barely touch her exquisitely dark eyes.
"I...would not use those exact words, no."
She was quiet, gazing into his eyes; then suddenly she pushed him away. "You have to leave," she declared, her voice trembling.
"You really need to clip your nails, that hurt!"
"Leave hell now. And take everyone you give a damn about with you."
He frowned, thinking. "Okay, so that's you, and..."
"No, not me!"
"Mazikeen, I don't understand what you're talking about, but you are the only being in hell I give a damn about."
The mean-looking axe clattered loudly to the dirt.
"Oh my God, I... I can't breathe," she whispered. Turning around she moved speedily through the wastelands, her cape rippling behind her.
"Mazikeen," Lucifer shouted. He knelt and grabbed her axe, hoisting it effortlessly over his shoulder, then followed her. "Maze... Maze! I have far more stamina than you!"
Her steps slowed and he easily caught up to her. "Now, if you don't mind humoring me, I'm unbelievably old so please don't run off again!" he said in one breath, and extended the axe to her nonresponsive backside. "Just turn around, take a breath, take your toy, and tell me what's bothering you."
She hesitated, but finally spoke, although she ignored the rest of his command. "I need to be alone in hell," she said. And fell silent. That was it―her answer.
"Why?" he asked, and grew impatient when she was again unresponsive. "WHY?!" he yelled, and his voice echoed through the wastelands.
She turned to face him, completely unafraid of his wrath. "Because I don't want to kill your dad. I want to kill everyone, Lucifer."
"What?" he asked, and watched her look away. "Even me?"
"Yes. All of them. All of the celestials, I just want to make it go away."
"Well, I can't give you hell, Maze."
"I can torture the souls on my own. They're in good... Well, the worst, but that's kind of the point."
"Forget about them. I cannot bring Michael to earth. Not again. And there's Uriel, and..." He sighed, shaking his head as he stared into her eyes, locked unblinkingly with his. "Mazikeen, you are a demon. This anger, it... It's not going to go away. I bet it didn't go away when you had a soul, did it?"
A subtle head shake was his only response.
"So you need to make the best of it, and dig deep down inside of yourself, and control it..."
"That's such bullshit. I don't have a deep down."
"You do, and...it's time to excavate. Okey-doke?" he asked, and handed her the axe. "Just take a breath, darling, and then take another one. And another... And a million more, because there are so many people who love you, and have faith in you. And I know that you are so, so strong... So pull yourself together and just...find a reason to smile everyday. I mean, you've got a niece on the way."
"She's not my niece and I hate children."
"Well, what about Trixie? You like her. And, hey, have you ever played Monopoloy? She's quite good."
"The only thing that makes me smile is thinking about strangling somebody. With somebody else's vocal cords."
He stared at her for a moment. "Gross," he finally said. "Okay, but seriously, Maze, think about how amazing Rory was when she was here. Now you don't want to be slumming it down here in hell when you're supposed to be giving her an...arsenal, on her birthday, do ya?"
Maze was quiet, but suddenly began to bend a knee on the volcanic terrain.
"Okay, well, you saw the engagement ring, so what's this about?"
Kneeling, she craned her head back to look at him. Before she spoke, she grabbed the hand that held the axe―and forced the blade to her neck.
"Do it."
"What? Maze, I... Damn it, I thought my little speech―"
"Will you just take my freaking head off?!"
Hell was quiet; all they could hear was the whooshing sound every time a red-hot coal landed and ignited. They were too far from the cells to the hear the wailing of the damned. With a clunk, Lucifer plopped the axe blade onto the stone and reached out a hand. "Stand up."
She hesitated, but finally clasped his hand in hers and got to her feet.
"Now take your toy, and go play. You enjoy doing that, right?" he asked, and put an arm around her, giving her a sideways hug. "Come on. I personally have a destination down here, but no reason we can't keep each other company on the journey."
"Don't touch me."
He withdrew and they began to walk towards the cells. "Look, this is how you were made. You are absolutely perfect, Mazikeen. Just the way you are."
She spared him a fleeting glance, but hastily returned her attention to the axe, running her finger over its thick blade. They were quiet until they neared the cells. "Well, I suppose this is where we part ways. Just remember, you mustn't ask for a soul too many times. All that taking it out and putting it back is... Well, long story short, the soul eventually is just pieces in and of itself, and you will be even worse off."
"Are you really going to force me to live?"
"I can't kill you."
"Sure you can."
"It's not my ability standing in my way. It's how I feel. How I've always felt, how I'm going to feel forever."
"Do you feel...remorseful?"
"Not slightly," he said, with just enough smugness to piss her off.
He detached from her side, walking down the hall. "Chin up, Maze," he called, and went to the cell Amenadiel had told him to go to. He was staring through the bars at the empty cell when all of a sudden―with a deafening, shattering sound that may have been the reason several souls screamed at once―the axe blade had embedded itself into the stone wall, directly beside Lucifer's head. Knowing he would get a headache later, but otherwise unfazed, he leaned out of the cell. It was buried so deep in the stone that only the tip of the blade was poking out; the rest of it was just the handle. He was beginning to sputter Maze's name when he turned around to glance at her. But she was nowhere in hell to be seen.
"Cripes," Lucifer whispered, and went to the protruding handle. He began trying to pull it out of the wall, until it broke clean off, surprising him. "Bloody hell!" he exclaimed, and stared at the stick in his hands. He contemplated, briefly, all the ways it could be used as a weapon before rolling his eyes and jamming it back into the gaping hole in the axe. Though still very much broken, it appeared whole―very much like her.
"Right, is there a contractor here?" he called, and began sauntering past the cells. "Any bricklayer, steelwright, navvy... Fix my wall and I'll see to it you get a plate of worms that've been cooked."
There was no answer, just quiet gasping and sobbing from his prisoners.
"No? A postcard from the upperworld, then. A softer bed."
"Boss!" a deep, familiar voice called. Lucifer turned to see Cain, walking towards him. "Holy shit. Are you okay?"
"Hm, fine. If Maze wanted to kill me, she would have..." His voice trailed off as he looked back at the weapon. "Then again, this is by far the heaviest blade she ever wielded and she did just now admit to the inclination to kill me... But no, we've known each other for 60 billion years!"
"Does that matter?"
"It should, shouldn't it?" was all Lucifer could say.
"Should we be on alert?"
"No," the word was a dissatisfied grunt. "I choose to trust her. Believe me, I'm used to her...flying off the handle, so to speak."
"Alright, then. I just hope you know what you're doing."
Lucifer smiled and listened to his departing footsteps, then muttered to the empty air, "Yes, me too."
With a severe frown, he wandered into the empty cell and approached the cot, sitting on it with a quiet sigh. From this small, stone room, the soft roar of the flames was barely noticeable over the neighboring screams and cries of the prisoners. Finding that he wasn't even upset with Maze, he rubbed at his face and sent up a silent prayer asking where LeMec was...but Amenadiel didn't respond. So he sent up another one, asking about McKinley instead―yielding the same result. Opening his eyes, he was in the middle of a frustrated scoff when a silver glint on the floor beside his shoe caught his eye. He leaned, scooping up the delicate pentagram cufflink.
He closed his fist around the personalized accessory that had cost him six grand apiece. "Michael," he murmured. "Buggers."
Getting up, he left the cell and was immediately stopped by a female demon, wearing less than Mazikeen. He smiled, instinctively moving closer until he saw the look of death in her eyes. He withdrew, casually sticking his hands in his pockets. "Good day."
"King Lucifer ordered me to bring you to him."
Without uttering a syllable, Lucifer popped out his pristine white wings, making the demon gawk in embarrassment; then, seeing her reluctance to speak, he finally broke the silence. "I know, I know, nobody likes to feel foolish, but I'm afraid you've been had. Now if you don't mind, I'd like you to bring me to him anyway. I need to have a word."
Stammering incoherently, the demon finally turned and strode through the wastelands, guiding him into one ashy corridor of countless. Lucifer knew where she was taking him; sure enough she began meandering through a quaint waiting room towards the replicated therapist's office. "You are dismissed, Eisheth. You've been most helpful."
She strode away, and by himself Lucifer opened the door to his office.
Michael was sitting at his desk with a smile, and continued smiling as he stood up. "Hello, Brother."
"Yes, no time for that; I've come to warn you. Mazikeen has announced her intentions to kill every single celestial, myself included. So, don't let her get near you, and...take this," he added, extending a fist. "If you're going to pretend to be me, you need to care about the things I care about, like my perfectly tailored suit."
Michael took the broken cufflink, briefly examining it. "Is that all you have to say?"
"Mm-hmm!"
Michael studied his twin, then grinned. "No. There's more. I've taken over your life twice now. You'd be a fool not to be pissed."
"Oh, I was. Absolutely I was. But I made you incapable of fooling anyone on earth, and my demons are getting all your lies sorted out down here, so...I'm over it."
"You're over it. The world's first rebel is...over it?"
"Absolutely. Yes, I realized that therapy starts at home. I cannot help others if I am unwilling to help myself. So all my issues are taken care of; in fact, thank you, for helping me grow."
"You're screwing with me. No, all you feel is anger."
"What I feel, Michael, is sorry for you. Gosh, you're trying so hard to be me..."
"I wouldn't use those exact words."
Lucifer stepped back, trying not to show that his forgiveness of him had not eradicated his hatred towards him. He ran a hand over his extravagant suit. "Seriously, Brother, find Thelios. She's the only demon who ever learned how to mend a tux. I know it's broken, and it's physically―ugh, I can't even look at it. Do you know what it cost me?"
"Not as much as these," Michael said, holding up the cufflink. "Not as much as your penthouse. The steady influx of hookers, I imagine."
"Jealous?"
Like a switch, Michael was mimicking Lucifer's accent. "Don't you think you're living a little excessively? People often buy material things to fill a void."
"Stop immediately!"
"I'm just doing my job, Michael."
Lucifer's eyes flickered red, then went dark again. He raised a finger, pointing at him. "Messing with me is one thing. But the souls... That's unacceptable."
And like a switch, he dropped the accent. "Lighten up, Lucifer. You never used to care about them, either."
He turned and walked to the door, still holding the cufflink. Lucifer's eyes went immediately to the severed stumps where his wings used to be; then Michael wrenched open the door. He took one step out into the hallway and then started backing up into the office. And Maze followed him inside. Her hands were empty and down at her sides, but there was death on her face nonetheless. Like she was going to disembowel him with her hands.
"Mazikeen," Lucifer said tensely. "Control it."
She didn't acknowledge him at all, quietly taking out a gun.
"Mazikeen, we've been through this," Michael said, his voice soft and trembling. "Only Azrael's Blade can hurt me, and you destroyed it. Turned it into bullets and used up every last one."
"Actually," she said, and gave the gun a quick tilt to demonstrate. "This is the last one."
"Mazikeen, put down the gun, please," Lucifer cut in. "If you start down this road, you will be tortured."
"So I go to therapy. Big deal."
"Maze―MAZE!" Lucifer screamed, as she pressed the trigger. He whirled, watching Michael falling to the ground. Moving so quickly he was a blur, he was at Michael's side, catching his head to place it gently on the carpet. "Michael, don't you fucking die on me! Maze!" he began, and getting no response he looked over his shoulder. She was still there, and rather blurry...
Then he felt a tug on his clothes, and he returned his attention to his dying brother. Quickly fading away, he stared up at Lucifer through glassy eyes, blood beginning to trickle out of his mouth. Still, he mustered up the strength to stammer out, "I'll tell 'em you said hi."
Then he grew very heavy in Lucifer's arms, and he died with his eyes open and locked with his brother's.
The only sound that could be heard was Lucifer's quiet sobs.
"Chin up, Lucifer," Maze said suddenly. "It was fun to watch, right?"
He was unresponsive at first, but when he lunged to his feet, all at once he was in his devil form―in its entirety. Maze's eyes followed his movements as her satisfied smirk faded. Towering above her, with horns and angry, batlike wings, he descended upon her; eyes glowing like red suns.
When he spoke, it was with such power that the ground rumbled beneath her feet and the window shattered.
"No therapy."
Advancing upon her, he didn't slow. He didn't stop. He reached towards her with giant, clawed hands.