[Trigger Warning: Violence. If at any point this chapter makes you uncomfortable, I have provided a TLDR at the end with the relevant plot points so you can skip the violence but continue the story.]
Lute trained. She trained hard. She trained day in and day out, sparring with her sisters in arms to get used to the new appendage she'd been gifted. She'd given them strict instructions to go as hard on her as they could until she'd be able to take each of them down one-handed. She wasn't there yet, but she was making progress. The new armor they were practicing with was more cumbersome than the cloth uniforms they'd used before, but her angelic steel arm still left bruises on her sisters that no normal fist ever could have.
When she wasn't swinging a spear or grappling with another combat veteran on the training grounds, Lute was searching for a back entrance to Hell away from angelic eyes. Hellborn filth opened portals to Earth all the time for their vile and nefarious deeds, but finding one that was predictable enough to sneak into was quite a task. Lute spent her spare time unravelling drug rings and watching for suspicious activity, like rumors of frequent demonic hauntings or shipments of blasphemous products showing up without any mortal explanation.
After some time, she managed to hone in on an operation between a pretty standard devil-worshipping cult of humans and some imps supplying them with mass amounts of sex toys. They'd shown a pattern of meeting every other Saturday to exchange their products for hard drugs. The trade took several hours to complete on the scale they were working with, which gave her just enough of a window to do what she needed to do.
It took a great deal of restraint from Lute to keep herself from slaying both the demons and the cultists right then and there; but she needed to keep a low profile if her operation was to succeed. She would hit her target and leave, with no one the wiser.
She was out for blood.
When the time came, she dressed herself in a plain black fit, covering her face with a mask and strapping a couple small angelic knives onto her person. She couldn't take something as cumbersome as her spear, it would slow her down; and she couldn't rely on flight for this mission, it was too conspicuous. She had to keep her identity a secret. If all went well, she'd be in and out, and whatever unfortunate soul found the body would assume it was the work of a demon. Those cunts murdered each other all the time down there, after all; it was the perfect cover.
She tucked her wings in, checked the straps on her arm, and coated her halo in dark black ink to dim the glow. It wasn't perfect, but if she stuck to the shadows, it should suffice. And with that, she was ready to go.
Taking a trip down to Earth, she snuck into the cultists' warehouse and hid herself among the pallets of drugs. Right on cue, the hell-portal opened up and a short imp-woman in a crisp blue suit holding a clipboard stepped through, greeting one of the human cultists.
While everyone's backs were turned, consulting the paperwork to start the exchange process for the delivery, Lute slipped through the portal and snuck out of the sex-toy factory. She was several rings south of her target, which was deeper in the pit than she'd ever had reason to go. It took some time to get her bearings, but eventually she found an elevator that would take her from Lust to Pride. Two hours gone, already…
She marked the portal's exit location on her phone's map and set a timer to ensure she'd get back before her doorway closed. Without it, she'd be able to get back to Heaven just fine on her own, but she'd be seen, which would lead to too many questions. She was risking her soul on this mission; she wouldn't be so stupid as to lose track of time. She could always return later if the clock ran out.
When she reached Pride, she stayed in the dark, which frankly was incredibly easy. It was Hell, after all. She'd slain so many sinners during the exterminations that even though she typically had a bird's eye view of the streets, she'd become incredibly familiar with them. She knew where she was going. Now, she just needed to find her quarry.
The target was known to visit several different establishments, often exploring new places on a near-daily basis, making their movements unpredictable. But, there was one place they would always go to at the end of the day.
Another hour gone. Lute needed to move fast. She stole a motorcycle that had been parked outside an adult video store and sped off toward the Hazbin Hotel. She wished she could just fly there, but that was a sure-fire way to be spotted.
Racing through the streets, Lute paid no mind to the bodies she ran over and gunshots pinging off her skin. It might tear up her clothing, but she'd be fine so long as no one used an angelic weapon, and those were hard for demons to come by. Anger bubbled inside her at the demons' audacity to even TRY harming her, but she forced herself to calm down, knowing that once she was done, she'd have her chance to come back and slaughter every single one of them.
As luck would have it, Lute didn't need to go all the way to the hotel. Her target was not difficult to spot.
A white glow shone from Lute's periphery. She turned to see the Ambassador walking down the street, not a block down the road. She held the arm of the same smiling freak whose ass Adam had handed to him in the battle. That filth had survived when Adam should have.
The stupid white witch was laughing and chatting with that red demon like they weren't even enemies; if Lute didn't know better, she'd almost think they were friends. Then again, witches were known to fuck with dark and evil forces. For all Lute knew, the Ambassador actually cared for these pathetic sinners. That would be vile.
It didn't matter. She was going to die today; then Lute could have her war and take her revenge for Adam's death. It was a shame an angel had to die for the greater good, but Lute wouldn't let anyone stand between her and exterminating the demon filth that had taken her captain from her, not even someone who'd earned a halo.
The smiling red demon would be a problem. While he was no match for the First Man, Lute wasn't so delusional as to think she could hold a candle to the powerful magic he wielded. He'd slain dozens of her sisters in a single battle, and Lute had to acknowledge the danger he posed.
She followed quietly behind them, hoping an opportunity would open up. Another hour gone. She'd need to head back soon, regardless of how the mission turned out.
The constant violence of Hell was in Lute's favor that day, because it just so happened that the Ambassador and her companion were attacked by another demon. Neither of them seemed all that concerned about it. The Ambassador scrolled through her phone, leaning casually against a wall while her creepy-ass protector let out a crazed and manic laugh, black tentacles tearing their attacker into shreds in a show of malevolent sadism that was far too fitting for a sinner boiling in the pot. When Lute got her war, he would be one of the first to die.
It was time to make her move. While the demon's back was turned and the Ambassador's eyes were set firmly on her phone, Lute grabbed her from behind, using a practiced maneuver that prevented the target from screaming or flailing. The witch was cold as ice; frost began seeping straight through Lute's clothes and into her skin. It hurt like a bitch.
The keep her target from casting any stronger spells and spoiling the whole operation, Lute pressed a specially prepared pouch into the Ambassador's mouth, smothering her with a small bag full of magic-suppressing talismans and herbs. The cold subsided and her victim's eyes widened as the reality of her predicament set in. She was starting to panic, struggling and choking with tears in her eyes. Lute took a sick pleasure in knowing her target was now defenseless.
Every second counted so long as the powerful red demon was nearby, so Lute dragged the Ambassador away as quickly as she could. Her quarry tried to kick at the ground and the walls to leave some sort of followable trail behind them, but Lute was too well-prepared. She held the witch off the ground and dragged her into a crevice behind a dumpster. It was undignified, but would work well enough.
Since her arm was already firmly around her target's throat, Lute squeezed. Elida thrashed underneath her, desperate for air, but none would come. She tried to spit out the pouch wedged in her mouth, but Lute held her firm, securing the pouch inside her with a rope between her teeth.
With a gag in place and one hand now free, Lute reached for the knife strapped to her side, but Elida threw her head back, smashing Lute in the chin and slicing her halo into Lute's nose. Golden blood trickled down Lute's face, but she ignored it. She'd had worse. The Ambassador was not particularly strong physically, even if her magic was said to be formidable.
The Ambassador wasn't docile enough yet. Fine. Lute would beat her into submission. So, she grabbed her target by the hair and smashed her face into the metal corner of the dumpster they hid behind, making a loud clang that Lute hadn't meant to make. To avoid making any other loud noises, she turned the Ambassador around and punched her in the face with her metal arm instead. The angelic steel was more effective anyway.
Elida felt the sting of blow after blow as her mysterious attacker hit her over and over and over again. Her ears rang, her jaw dislocated, her teeth cut into her own cheeks, and her attacker was cruel enough to snap the bones in her legs. Elida wouldn't have been able to run even if she ever managed to shake the attacker off. Her only chance was to get the magic-suppressor out of her mouth or hope Alastor found her in time. She didn't know if he would; It was hard to think clearly when you felt like your brain was trying to escape from out your eyes.
Elida had never been more terrified or felt a worse pain than right then. If she'd had the time to think, she'd have wondered what kind of person would be strong enough to harm her; she was an angel, and therefore, practically impervious. But in that moment, she was more focused on the blood running into her eyes and the agony of the relentless assault.
That's when the stabbing started. Whoever this was, they had an angelic blade, and they'd wedged it firmly into her shoulder. It would have hit her heart, if she hadn't forced her body to doge as best it could the second she saw the glimmer of steel. The assailant yanked the dagger out, moving it lower and catching Elida in the side. Blood filled her mouth, soaking the pouch and leaking out around the rope between her teeth.
Elida went limp, unable to force her body to cooperate any further, but still mercilessly awake. Everything hurt. It was like getting hit with a truck all over again, but ten times worse. And for what? If she died there, so many innocent demons would follow. She fought to keep her eyes open, watching with blurred vision as her attacker raised the knife to deliver the killing blow.
Elida decided that if she was going out, she would go out with her dignity intact. So, despite the pain, despite the fear, and despite the immense difficulty focusing, she stared directly into her attacker's eyes. They were angry and cold, but strange. They didn't look like a demon's eyes. That's when Elida noticed the color of her attacker's blood. It was gold, not red.
Her attacker was another angel.
The reality of it hit like another punch, but she refused to look away, staring defiantly at the source of her death, and hoping that the souls she'd spent so much time trying to save would be okay. They didn't deserve to die.
The knife flashed in her assassin's hand, and Elida braced for impact.
Only it didn't come…
A blur of black magic snatched the blade from Lute's hands, and slashed it back at her instead. Instinctively, she dodged, but the blade sliced right through one of the straps holding her metal arm in place. It went limp, dangling from her shoulder like a wet noodle. More black tendrils came for her, and she turned to see that the red demon from before had found them. He must have heard the clang from the dumpster and followed it.
He was still smiling; it was a sick, violent snarl of a smile full of sharp teeth and cruel intent. He was clearly just as eager to kill her as she was him. Unfortunately, she was down a limb, and she didn't have time to unstrap her other knife before he sent another tirade of magic in her direction.
Time was up. Lute had to leave, and she couldn't have her now useless arm dragging her down. The red demon had her angelic knife, and one good slice would be all it took to take her down permanently. Thinking quick as she dodged the demon's incoming blows, she pulled her arm the rest of the way off, angry at the irony of having to tear her arm off FUCKING AGAIN, and threw it straight at the Ambassador's battered face.
The demon's blows ceased as he traveled through the shadows, appearing in front of the Ambassador just in time to knock the arm out of the way with that staff of his. The distraction was enough to give Lute time to bolt off into the darkness.
She ran as fast as her legs could carry her until she found the motorcycle she'd stolen. Hopping on, she raced away and retraced her steps until she was safely home behind Heaven's gates.
While she fled, Alastor fell to the ground to check if Elida was still alive. He wanted to follow the assassin, but he couldn't leave his best friend lying beaten and bloodied in a back alley; especially when he had promised to protect her. She was his responsibility. And even if she weren't, he'd come to care too deeply for her to leave her behind just to chase some piece of scum, bloodlust be damned.
He frantically checked her vitals, praying to the shadows that she'd still have a pulse. She did, but it was weak. Her eyes were still open, and she looked up at him, her fair face now swollen and bruised beyond recognition. She wasn't as cold as she should be.
Taking his sharp fingers, Alastor sliced the rope that gagged her, and she sputtered. He saw an object shoved inside her mouth and pulled it out, glaring at it. Whatever it was, the frost she radiated returned the moment it was out. He placed it in his jacket for further inspection later. The witches would know what it was.
He cursed himself for wasting his last healing potion on himself. He kept a few on hand taken from Elida's shop, just for convenience; He didn't want to ooze blood on his clothes if he could help it. Now, the minor cut he'd received from a playful battle with some upstart wannabe overlord was nothing. He'd have to get her to a hospital, and quickly. The problem was, moving her in this state would only make her injuries worse.
Elida tried to speak, "Aaal…"
"Hush, love, now is not the time for that," he ordered, looking her over to assess the full extent of the damage. It was bad. Really bad. He fought back a stab of panic as he realized these kinds of injuries could be fatal; he would know, he made them all the time for fun. But he only gave them to people who deserved it. Elida didn't deserve it. She deserved gold and jewels and fine wine; not pain and suffering. "How the f*** did that woman manage to hurt you?" he wondered aloud, beeping out his own curse word out of radio habit. His smile was strained and upset.
She coughed, sending a fresh wave of agony through her body. Her ribs were broken. But it was hard not to laugh at the ridiculousness of Alastor watching his language of all things at a moment like this. She wanted to hug him and tell him that she would be okay; that she knew she was safe as long as he was there; but her injuries were too severe to allow her lips to form any coherent words. Being safe in his arms, she let herself relax, and allowed the darkness to close in around her, passing out into the merciful embrace of unconsciousness.
Alastor wanted to shake her. She couldn't go now; he needed her to stay awake. But he couldn't risk it. He'd just have to move fast. He snapped his fingers, summoning a team of souls who had been skilled medical professionals in life and who had continued their practice upon their deaths. One of them started yelling that he was in the middle of a surgery, but shut up the second he saw the horrifying look on Alastor's barely-smiling face and the beaten lump of angel cradled in his arms. Her glow was dimming, and time was running out.
They got to work, moving her carefully onto a stretcher and telling Alastor what supplies they needed. He summoned anything they asked for, turning the back alley into a makeshift hospital while they waited for an ambulance to show up. Ambulances were always slow and late in Hell; one of the downsides of being there. If she died, Alastor would burn Hell, Heaven, and Earth to ash until his vengeance was sated. He'd make her killer scream, as well as anyone who dared get in his way.
He sent another soul to collect the arm the assassin had dropped. Evidence was evidence, and he would find out who it was no matter how long it took to track them down.
When the ambulance finally arrived, he climbed in with her, much to the terror and discomfort of the paramedics. They avoided making eye contact with him and took extra care to keep their patient alive. No one wanted to be the one in the room if the Radio Demon's will-they-won't-they tabloid girl, the famous Ambassador of Heaven herself, ended up flatlining. Everyone knew they were inseparable at this point. She was on his radio show, they were seen together everywhere, and he'd publicly declared on more than one occasion that she was under his protection: Attack at your own risk.
It took a lot of willpower to keep their hands from shaking as Alastor stared them down, smiling his dark and menacing smile while they worked. Poor Elida's glow faded in and out ominously.
Because it was one of the only parts of hers left undamaged, Alastor refused to let go of Elida's hand.
[TLDR: Lute sneaks into Hell and attempts to assassinate Elida without Heaven finding out. She brutally attacks Elida while Alastor is distracted. Lute is forced to run when Alastor finds them and defends Elida. Lute escapes, but her steel arm falls off. Alastor takes the arm as evidence so he can find out who attacked Elida. The beating she took from Lute was so brutal that Elida is on death's door. They are in an ambulance, on the way to the hospital.]