Lex Luthor, the once-mighty CEO of LexCorp and Superman's greatest nemesis, had finally met his end. The man who built an empire of wealth and power, who bent governments and corporations to his will, now lay lifeless. His death was not the result of one of Superman's punches or some cosmic threat—it was far more ironic and poetic than that. Lex Luthor died of kryptonite poisoning.
Superman's arrival in Metropolis had marked the beginning of Lex's obsessive descent into hatred and hubris. To combat the alien hero, Lex had poured billions into stockpiling kryptonite, Earth's only known weapon capable of harming the Man of Steel. His efforts birthed everything from simple traps to the infamous kryptonite-powered war suit, designed to bring Superman to his knees.
But kryptonite, much like Lex's ambitions, was toxic. Years of exposure to its radiation, even in controlled environments, slowly poisoned him. Lex dismissed the signs—headaches, fatigue, nausea—thinking himself invincible. Only when he suffered a violent seizure during a board meeting did the truth become impossible to ignore.
Superman, ever the protector, rushed his greatest enemy to the hospital, ignoring Lex's protests and venomous insults. The doctors confirmed the diagnosis: an advanced and aggressive form of cancer caused by prolonged kryptonite exposure. Lex's own weapon had turned against him.
Even on his deathbed, Lex refused to acknowledge his own culpability. Instead, he directed his hatred outward—to the alien he had spent his life trying to destroy.
"This is your fault," Lex snarled through gritted teeth as Superman stood by his bedside. "If you'd never come here, I wouldn't have needed kryptonite. I wouldn't be dying."
Superman, ever patient, replied softly, "You're the one who chose this path, Lex. You didn't have to fight me. You could've done so much good."
Lex laughed bitterly. "Good? You think I wanted good? I wanted greatness! And you… you were always in my way."
In his final moments, Lex's obsession with Superman consumed him entirely. He died clinging to his hatred, convinced that he was a victim rather than the architect of his own destruction.
Death was not the end for Lex Luthor.
Lex's eyes fluttered open, his vision swimming with a deep, crimson hue. The air was thick, heavy with the scent of ash and decay, and a faint heat pricked at his skin. As his senses returned, he noticed the eerie glow of a massive pentagram etched into the sky, pulsating faintly like the heartbeat of this hellish realm.
Groaning, Lex tried to push himself up but felt a wave of sluggishness wash over him. His body felt unfamiliar—weak, drained. His sharp mind, always his greatest weapon, struggled to piece together what had happened. His memories were hazy, flashes of hospitals, machines, and… Superman?
He glanced around and saw he was lying in an alley littered with piles of garbage. The stench was overpowering, and the filth clung to his once-pristine suit like an insult.
"What the devil…?" Lex muttered, his voice hoarse and confused.
Pulling himself to his feet, he brushed off the grime as best he could, his eyes scanning his surroundings. Neon signs buzzed faintly in the distance, their garish colors clashing with the oppressive red sky. A large billboard stood at the end of the alley, illuminated by flickering, hellish light.
"Welcome to Hell!" it read in exaggerated, cheerful letters. Below that, smaller text listed directions:
•Pentagram City: Next Right
•Imp City: Half a Mile Away
Lex stared at the sign, dumbfounded. The absurdity of it all struck him like a punch to the gut. His sharp mind, always quick to rationalize, struggled to make sense of what he was seeing.
"You've got to be kidding me," he growled through clenched teeth, his anger quickly overtaking his confusion.
Staggering out of the alley, he found himself on a bustling street filled with a chaotic mix of demons, imps, and other grotesque creatures. Some were bartering in open markets, others loitering in shadowy corners, their eyes glowing with malice. The buildings seemed to twist and lean unnaturally, as though the architecture itself mocked the rules of physics.
Lex's fists clenched. This wasn't some nightmare or hallucination. This was real. Somehow, against all logic, Lex Luthor—mastermind, visionary, and ruler of his own corporate empire—was in Hell.
"I don't belong here," he muttered, his voice low and dangerous. His piercing gaze swept over the strange cityscape, already calculating. "This place… this abomination is beneath me."
But as he took another step, a raspy voice called out behind him, dripping with amusement.
"New arrival, eh? You look a little… lost."
Lex turned sharply, his eyes narrowing. A small, horned imp with a crooked grin stood nearby, leaning casually against a lamppost. The creature's yellow eyes gleamed with mischief as it sized him up.
"Don't worry, pal," the imp continued, chuckling. "You'll fit right in. Or you won't. Either way, it's gonna be fun to watch!"
Lex sneered. "Stay out of my way, vermin."
Here's a continuation of your scene with more detail:
The imp's laughter echoed in Lex's ears as it disappeared into the crowd. Lex stood there, unmoving, his mind racing. He didn't have time to waste wandering aimlessly through this hellscape. He needed information. Answers.
The chaotic din of Pentagram City grated on his nerves, but his sharp eyes caught sight of a large, decrepit building at the end of the street. A weathered sign hanging above its arched entrance read: Infernal Archives.
"A library," Lex muttered to himself, his lips curling into a small smirk. "Finally, something useful."
Pushing past the throngs of demons and imps, Lex strode toward the library. The heavy wooden doors creaked loudly as he shoved them open, revealing an expansive interior that was equal parts majestic and macabre. Towering shelves crammed with ancient tomes and scrolls stretched as far as the eye could see, while faint whispers filled the air, as if the books themselves were alive.
A skeletal librarian, its bony fingers wrapped around a feathered quill, looked up from a dusty desk and gave Lex a slow, hollow nod. "Welcome to the Infernal Archives. Knowledge is free, but ignorance will cost you dearly."
Lex ignored the cryptic remark and began his search. He combed through shelves labeled with titles like Demonic Hierarchies, Soul Economics, and Eternal Warfare: A History of Heaven and Hell. Eventually, he found a secluded corner with an assortment of texts that seemed to chronicle Hell's origins.
He grabbed a stack of books and settled into a cracked leather chair, flipping through their pages with an intensity born of desperation and curiosity.
Lex read about the Fall of Lucifer, the Morningstar who had defied God and been cast out of Heaven. He delved into the tale of Adam and Eve, learning how Lucifer, in the guise of a serpent, had tempted humanity into sin. There was mention of Lilith, Adam's first wife, who had rebelled and later become Lucifer's consort.
But what truly caught his attention was a section about Hell's ongoing dynamics. It detailed the existence of Exterminators, angels dispatched from Heaven to cull the demon population whenever it grew too large. These celestial purges kept the balance between the realms but also served as a brutal reminder of Heaven's power over Hell.
Lex's interest deepened when he stumbled upon accounts of Overlords—demons who had risen to immense power by collecting and trading souls. These Overlords were not only rulers of Hell's various territories but also wielders of incredible strength, feared even by lesser demons.
As he pieced together this information, a spark of inspiration ignited in Lex's mind.
7 years later
It had taken Lex Luthor just seven years to rebuild his empire, but this time, it was in Hell. Through cunning deals, ruthless contracts, and an unmatched ability to manipulate both sinners and demons, Lex had carved out his place as an Overlord. Tonight, he was celebrating that success with a grand banquet.
The event was nothing short of spectacular. Lavish decorations adorned the massive hall, where tables groaned under the weight of decadent food and drink. The guest list was a who's who of Hell's elite: Overlords, the Seven Deadly Sins, members of the Goetia family, celebrity stars, and the ever-hungry media.
An announcer's voice boomed through the hall, drawing everyone's attention.
"Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the man of the hour, Mr. Lex Luthor!"
The room erupted into a cacophony of applause, cheers, and jeers. Some clapped out of respect for his power and influence, while others booed, resentful of his meteoric rise.
Lex stepped onto the stage, impeccably dressed in a black suit with green accents that matched his trademark colors. He raised a hand, silencing the room.
"Thank you," he began, his voice smooth and commanding. "It is an honor to stand before you as an Overlord. But I didn't gather you all here tonight just to celebrate my success. No, I gathered you here because Hell has a problem."
The room quieted further, the audience leaning in with interest.
"Overpopulation," Lex continued. "The angels won't stop their Exterminations until they've culled our numbers to their liking. They interfere with our lives, our plans, and our progress. This cannot continue."
He pressed a button on a small remote, and a hologram appeared behind him, displaying a sleek robot. Its metallic frame glowed faintly with green highlights, and its armor shimmered with an otherworldly sheen.
"Allow me to introduce the Lexbots," Lex said with a confident smile. "These machines are crafted with angelic steel—strong enough to pierce even the toughest angelic defenses. And thanks to the support of our esteemed Mammon, I've managed to mass-produce them."
"Fuck yeah!" Mammon shouted from his seat, tearing into a bucket of fried chicken. "Best investment I ever made!"
A few chuckles rippled through the room, but Lex didn't lose his stride.
"Furthermore," he continued, clicking the remote again, "I understand that not everyone is willing or able to fight in this war. For those of you who prioritize survival, I've designed these."
Another hologram appeared, this time showing a fortified bunker with reinforced walls and an imposing, impenetrable structure.
"These bunkers are equipped with the latest technology to protect you and your loved ones from angelic interference. With these, you'll have the security you deserve."
The room broke into applause, this time louder and more unified. Even some of his detractors were impressed. Lex raised his glass.
"To the future," he declared.
"To the future!" the crowd echoed, lifting their drinks in a toast.
As the party carried on, Lex stood by the edge of the room, surveying his guests. His gaze shifted as Carmilla Carmine approached him, her expression sharp and calculating.
"You're clever, Luthor," she said, her voice low. "Using Mammon to fund your angelic steel production? That's a dirty move, even for you."
Lex smirked, swirling his drink. "Carmilla, let's not pretend you wouldn't have done the same. After all, don't you want to protect your daughters? I understand you do it out of love."
Carmilla's eyes narrowed, her tone growing icy. "You leave my daughters out of this, Lex."
Lex raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "Touched a nerve, did I?"
Carmilla leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a warning growl. "Consider this your only warning. Cross me, and you'll regret it."
Lex's smirk didn't falter. "Duly noted."
As Carmilla stormed off, Lex turned back to the party, his mind already working. Threats didn't scare him—they only added fuel to his ambition. Hell may have been a new playing field, but Lex Luthor was still the master of the game.
His musings were interrupted by the unmistakable sound of static, followed by the low hum of machinery and the faint crackle of a broadcast signal. The Vees—Vox, Valentino, and Velvet—strode into the banquet hall, their presence commanding immediate attention.
"Ahhh, if it isn't Lex, our old buddy," Vox said, his voice a mixture of distortion and smugness as his screen-like face flickered between images.
Lex turned to face them, his expression neutral but his eyes sharp. "Ah, the Vees. Let me guess—you're here to recruit me into your little network?"
Vox tilted his head, the grin on his digital face widening. "Straight to the point. I like that about you."
"Always a man of business," Valentino added, adjusting his sunglasses as he exhaled a puff of smoke from his cigar.
"Yes, and the answer is no," Lex replied curtly, his tone leaving no room for negotiation.
Velvet, the fiery and temperamental member of the trio, stepped forward, her sharp claws flexing. "Why not?" she growled, her voice dripping with irritation.
Lex's smirk returned, a calculated and deliberate move. "Because I don't align myself with failures."
The air grew tense, the partygoers subtly leaning in to eavesdrop.
"Failures?" Vox repeated, his voice crackling.
"Yes," Lex said, his voice calm but cutting. "I did my research on the three of you. You were outsmarted by a mortal—a mortal I know all too well. John Constantine."
At the mention of Constantine's name, all three Vees bristled.
"I heard the story," Lex continued, circling them like a predator. "Constantine sold his soul to each of you, knowing full well that your egos wouldn't allow you to share. And what happened? You couldn't hold a grudge without starting a war, so you spat him out of Hell to save your own skins."
Velvet's claws dug into the table nearest her, the wood splintering under her grip. "That bastard—"
"Humiliated you," Lex interrupted, his smirk widening. "And yet, you expect me to trust you? To join your ranks? No, thank you. I don't associate with amateurs."
Valentino's sunglasses slipped slightly down his nose as his expression darkened. "Careful, Luthor. You might be an Overlord now, but don't think you're untouchable."
"Oh, I'm far from untouchable," Lex said, his tone cool and unbothered. "But I've already proven that I'm smarter than most, and I don't need to share my power with the likes of you."
Vox's screen flickered violently, his temper barely contained. "You've got guts, Luthor. We'll see how far that gets you."
The Vees turned to leave, their pride clearly wounded. Before they exited, Velvet paused and shot Lex a venomous glare. "You've made enemies tonight, Luthor. Don't forget that."
Lex raised his glass in a mock salute. "I never forget my enemies. I just make sure they regret underestimating me."
The party continued in grand fashion, with dazzling performances from Hell's most infamous entertainers. Verosika Mayday took the stage first, her sultry voice and captivating presence holding the crowd in a trance. Beelzebub followed, her energy infectious as she got even the most reserved demons to join in her rhythm. Finally, Lilith closed the night with a hauntingly beautiful performance, her ethereal voice lingering in the air long after she'd left the stage.
As the guests began to filter out and the party slowly wound down, Lex retreated to his private office. He poured himself a glass of whiskey and sat behind his desk, reviewing his plans for the days ahead.
Moments later, a knock echoed on his door, and an imp nervously shuffled in, carrying a tray with seven empty wine glasses.
"Here you go, Mr. Luthor," the imp said, setting the tray on the desk.
Lex eyed the glasses, his sharp gaze scrutinizing them. "Are you certain these are from the Seven Sins?"
"Yes, sir!" the imp squeaked, backing away slightly.
Lex didn't take the imp's word for it. He retrieved a handheld scanner from his desk and passed it over each glass. The scanner beeped as it displayed results: the distinct magical seals of the Seven Deadly Sins—pride, envy, wrath, sloth, greed, gluttony, and lust—glowed faintly on the screen.
"You've done well," Lex said, a rare note of approval in his voice. He reached into a drawer, pulled out a hefty sack of Hell currency, and tossed it to the imp.
The imp's eyes widened. "Thank you, Mr. Luthor! Thank you!" He scurried off, clutching the payment like his life depended on it.
Lex turned his attention back to the glasses, a small smirk forming on his lips. Carefully, he extracted tiny traces of DNA from the rim of each glass, placing the samples into vials. Once all seven samples were collected, he moved to a sleek, state-of-the-art computer in the corner of his office.
The machine whirred to life as Lex began synthesizing the DNA into seven distinct potions. Each potion glowed a different color, representing the unique essence of each sin:
•Pride: ed
•Envy: prole
•Wrath: orange
•Sloth: pink
•Greed: green
•Gluttony: yellow
•Lust: blue
Lex observed the potions with satisfaction as they settled into their respective vials. "The essence of the Seven Sins," he murmured, holding one of the vials up to the light. "Power distilled into its purest form. With this, I'll take Hell to heights even Lucifer couldn't imagine."
Lex leaned back in his chair, the Asmodeus crystal in his hand glowing with a pinkish hue. A series of sigils lit up on the floor in a perfect circle, and with a blinding flash of light, five figures materialized in the room.
Livewire, Toyman, Metallo, Parasite, Bizarrand Lobo stood disoriented for a moment, their eyes adjusting to the eerie glow of Hell's red sky outside the window.
"Where the hell are we?" Parasite growled, his voice filled with suspicion as he scanned his surroundings.
Lobo took a deep breath, his nostrils flaring. "Wait a second…" He moved to the window and peered out, his trademark grin spreading across his face. "Yep. We're in Hell."
"You're shitting me," Livewire said, her electric energy crackling faintly around her as her disbelief turned to irritation.
"Nope," Lobo replied with a chuckle. "I've been here before. Got banned, though. Guess I was too much for the locals to handle." He smirked. "But I ain't dead, so what gives?"
"Neither am I," Toyman said, adjusting his oversized goggles as he looked around nervously.
"So who brought us here?" Metallo asked, his metallic voice cold and calculating as he scanned the room.
"I did," came a familiar, commanding voice.
All 6 turned to see Lex Luthor standing confidently, his arms folded.
"Luthor?" bizarro was confused. "Me thought he alive?" he spoke in backward oppssite speech
"Well, I'll be damned," Metallo said with a smirk. "Even in Hell, you're still doing business, Lex."
Lex gave a small nod of acknowledgment. "I appreciate the compliment, Metallo. But I didn't bring you here for nostalgia or pleasantries. I have a proposition—one you won't want to refuse."
The group exchanged curious glances, their interest piqued despite their skepticism.
Lex walked over to his desk and leaned against it, his posture casual but his tone authoritative. "How would you like to be the new rulers of a ring in Hell?"
Lobo's grin widened, his interest immediately captured. "Now you're talkin'. Keep going."
Metallo crossed his arms, his glowing green Kryptonite core pulsing faintly. "I'm listening."
Envy Ring
The palace of the Leviathan was a sprawling, coral-encrusted marvel rising out of the Envy Ring's turbulent seas. Its architecture was decadent and chaotic, a reflection of the greed and jealousy that consumed the ring's denizens. Inside, Leviathan, the Sin of Envy, lounged on a throne carved from obsidian and sea glass, her twin heads arguing with one another over some perceived slight from one of the other Sins.
"Did you see Mammon? Always flaunting his wealth," the indigo head growled.
The white head scoffed. "As if he has any real power. He just has toys. We have the oceans."
Their bickering was interrupted by the faint sound of something tearing through the air outside. Leviathan's heads turned simultaneously, their golden eyes narrowing.
"What's that noise?"
Before they could react further, a deafening crash shattered the tranquility of the throne room. Something—or someone—had slammed into the palace with the force of a meteor, bursting through a wall of sea glass and scattering shards everywhere.
The two heads snarled in unison. "What the fuck?"
Emerging from the cloud of dust and debris was a hulking figure clad in a tattered cape, his pale skin and backwards "S" emblem unmistakable. Bizarro stood there, his mismatched eyes glowing faintly with the magic of the Sin of Envy.
Leviathan recoiled slightly, her eel head hissing. "You're not Superman," it spat, her white head adding, "But you reek of power… and something else. The Sin. It's inside you."
Leviathan barely had time to react as Bizarro surged forward, his immense strength ripping through the palace like paper. He grabbed both of her heads with his massive hands, lifting the Sin of Envy into the air with ease.
"Unhand me, you malformed idiot!" Leviathan screeched, her twin voices blending in a cacophony of rage. Her eel-like tail thrashed wildly, trying to coil around Bizarro's torso, but his grip was unyielding.
Sloth Ring
The Sloth Ring was bathed in a soft, perpetual pink glow, its skies reminiscent of a tranquil sunset. Unlike the chaotic or industrial landscapes of other rings, this domain exuded a strange calmness, dotted with sprawling hospitals and clinics. The air carried a faint scent of lavender and medicine, as if the ring itself encouraged lethargy and healing.
In the heart of this serene domain, Belphegor, the Sin of Sloth, sat in her office. Her lavender wool shimmered faintly under the warm light, cascading around her like a soft cloud. Her four arms rested lazily on the armrests of her oversized chair, while the melting black candle atop her head flickered with a soft pink flame. She seemed lost in thought, her drooping eyelids betraying her eternal state of fatigue.
Her attention was drawn to an unexpected object on her desk: a neatly wrapped present. The box was adorned with vibrant ribbons and a tag that read, "For Belphegor, from an admirer." She tilted her head, curiosity breaking through her usual apathy.
With a shrug, she reached out, her slender fingers tearing away the wrapping paper. The box popped open, revealing a small, intricately designed toy soldier standing at attention. It wore a pristine red uniform, its painted eyes glinting with eerie precision.
Before Belphegor could process what she was seeing, the toy soldier sprang to life. It raised its tiny rifle, and with a loud pop, it fired a net directly at her. The ropes glowed faintly, imbued with holy energy that sent a shockwave through her body.
"What the—?!" Belphegor gasped, her movements sluggish as the ropes tightened around her arms and legs. The blessed bindings sapped her strength, rendering her unable to summon her full power.
From the shadows of her office, a playful, almost mocking voice rang out. "Aww, the sheep was sleepy. Time to shear your wool!"
Toyman emerged, his unnerving grin wide as he held a remote control in his hands. He was dressed in his usual eccentric attire, but something was different—Belphegor could sense her own power radiating faintly from him.
"You… you stole my essence?" she growled weakly, struggling against the ropes.
Toyman chuckled, flipping a switch on his remote. "Borrowed, my dear. Don't worry, I'm just giving it a better use."
Before she could respond, the wall behind her shifted with a loud mechanical groan. It was pulled away, revealing a massive helicopter hovering just outside, its blades whipping the pink skies into a frenzy. Attached to the helicopter was a large hook that latched onto the net encasing Belphegor.
With a press of a button, the helicopter began to lift her from her chair, dragging her toward the open air. Belphegor thrashed weakly, her pink flame flickering in frustration.
"You'll regret this," she muttered, her voice a mix of exhaustion and rage.
Toyman waved mockingly as she was carried away. "Oh, don't be so dramatic. It's just business, after all." His laughter echoed as the helicopter ascended, carrying the bound Sin of Sloth into the skies.
Lust Ring
The Lust Ring, ruled by Asmodeus, was a pulsating city of excess and indulgence. Neon lights bathed the streets in a kaleidoscope of colors, with many signs adorned with sexual motifs—bold and explicit advertisements that painted the skyline. Despite the dazzling display of lights, the sky above remained a serene blue, and stars twinkled like distant gems, adding an odd sense of tranquility to the otherwise chaotic city.
Ozzie, the ruler of Lust, sat in his office, lounging lazily in his chair as he conversed with his long-time companion, Fizerolli.
"So, how was the gala?" Fizzi asked, his voice dripping with curiosity.
Ozzie sighed, a bored expression on his face as he slouched further into his chair. "Honestly, Lex is nothing more than all talk. No real power behind him, just empty promises and corporate schemes." He waved a hand dismissively, clearly uninterested in the politics of Hell's elite.
Fizzi nodded, understanding Ozzie's discontent, but before he could respond, the lights in the room flickered and then went out completely.
"Great!" Ozzie groaned, standing up and moving toward the console. He tapped at the keyboard, his fingers dancing across the keys in an attempt to bring the system back online. But just as he was about to troubleshoot, the screen suddenly blinked to life, and a voice filled the room.
"Greetings, you perverts of the Lust Ring!" The voice crackled with electric energy, loud and clear. "Coming to you live and loud is the one and only Livewire! Here to rule over your as your new queen!"
Ozzie blinked, stunned by the audacity of the broadcast. "She can't be serious," he scoffed, laughing. "This is a joke, right?"
But Livewire's voice was unyielding, and a surge of electricity crackled through the room, lighting up the air. The room seemed to hum with static as Ozzie turned, a confused expression on his face.
"I am serious, Ozzie," Livewire's voice rang out, sharp and electric, crackling with pure conviction. "And to prove it…"
Before Ozzie could react, a bolt of blinding electricity shot from the screen, striking him directly in the chest. His body jerked violently, muscles locking up from the shock, and the force of the hit sent him crashing backward. He smashed through the glass window, shards flying everywhere as he tumbled through the air. His landing was rough, a heavy thud against the cold concrete of the street below.
Dazed, Ozzie struggled to get his bearings, the shock still coursing through him. His body felt like it was on fire, the electricity lingering in his veins. He tried to push himself up, his mind reeling from the sudden attack, but when he looked up, he saw Livewire hovering above him, a dark grin on her face, her body crackling with the raw energy of lust and power.
Ozzie's eyes narrowed, the realization hitting him like a ton of bricks. "Luthor!" he groaned, his voice laced with disbelief and frustration. Lex Luthor—of course, it was him. Who else could have pulled this off?
With a swift movement, Livewire descended, her fingers crackling with energy. She grabbed his wrists, pulling them behind his back, and slapped on a pair of cuffs made of angelic steel—shiny, indestructible, and burning with a magical power that immediately began to drain Ozzie's strength. His muscles locked up as the magic surged through him, leaving him utterly powerless.
"Perfect fit, don't you think?" Livewire smirked, her voice dripping with satisfaction.
Ozzie struggled, his body trembling under the weight of the restraints. He gritted his teeth, but before he could say another word, he heard a familiar voice shouting his name.
"Ozzie!" Fizerolli appeared from the building's entrance, rushing toward him with a look of determination.
But Livewire wasn't about to let that happen. With a wicked laugh, she turned her attention to Fizerolli and unleashed a bolt of electricity in his direction. The blast hit him square in the chest, sending him flying backward with a pained scream. He crumpled to the ground, unconscious.
"FIZZI!" Ozzie yelled, his anger flaring up, but the cuffs made it impossible for him to do anything. His vision blurred with rage as he growled in frustration. "I hope when you die, every hellhound in this damn city gangs up on your corpse!"
Livewire rolled her eyes, unfazed by his words. "Yeah, keep talking big dick," she taunted, taking a step forward. Without warning, she swung her leg around, delivering a brutal kick to Ozzie's face. The force of the blow knocked him out cold, and everything went black.
Greed Ring
The Greed Ring was as chaotic and industrial as Mammon himself. The city stretched far and wide, a mix of rusted factories, crumbling streets, and pockets of gleaming upscale housing—bitterly contrasting the filth and pollution that filled the air. The green sky above was clouded with smoke from the countless chimneys, and the incessant noise of machinery created a constant hum of desperation and ambition.
Mammon, the embodiment of greed and wealth, sat in his luxurious office, surrounded by stacks of paperwork and a never-ending stream of profits. He was focused, trying to devise a new plan to increase his wealth even further. But as he stared at his projections, something interrupted the otherwise mundane moment.
A low, rumbling sound echoed through the walls of his palace. It grew louder, reverberating off the steel and concrete until it felt like the entire building might shake apart.
Mammon looked up, a scowl crossing his face. "What the hell is that noise?" he muttered under his breath, his hand instinctively reaching for the pile of paperwork on his desk.
Then, the walls of his palace shattered. The sound of crashing concrete and steel rang out as the mighty fortress crumbled, and through the dust and debris, Mammon's eyes widened in disbelief.
"OH FUCK!" Mammon screamed as a large, monstrous figure emerged from the wreckage. A space motorcycle—sleek, chrome, and unmistakable—skidded to a halt in the middle of his office, the noise of the engine roaring to a stop. The rider, a massive, grizzled figure, flicked a lit cigar from his mouth, landing it neatly on the floor.
"Sup Mammon, how long's it been? Four years?" Lobo's voice was as rough as the growl of his engine. His wide grin was a mixture of amusement and menace, his posture casual, as though breaking into Mammon's fortress was a regular Tuesday for him.
Mammon's face contorted in pure fury. "YOU ASS HAT OF A BOUNTY HUNTER!" He bellowed, his eyes wild as he surveyed the wreckage. His hands gripped the edges of his desk, his precious revenue reports in flames from the explosion. "YOU BURNED MY MONEY! WE MADE A FUCKING DEAL THAT WE'RE NEVER TAKING YOUR SOUL IN HELL!"
Lobo let out a laugh that was as grating as it was loud. "Yeah, well, Hell's gonna be under new management now, and guess who's Greed's new supervisor?" He swung off his bike with an easy fluidity, the chain and sickle made from angelic steel in his hand glinting dangerously. The blade's sharp edges seemed to hum with malicious energy as he took a step toward Mammon. "And the main man's owning the factories, so this is all mine now."
Mammon's eyes narrowed, his anger flickering like a furnace being stoked with fresh fuel. He could feel the weight of Lobo's presence, a suffocating pressure of Greed that laced itself into the air, a reflection of the power that Lobo now wielded. His chest tightened as the golden aura of Greed surged through him, causing the walls of his palace to vibrate slightly in response. "Luthor!" Mammon spat the name like it was a curse. His voice trembled with rage as his once-calm demeanor cracked. "That backstabbing sack of shit!" He balled his hands into fists, the sharpness of the Greed energy crackling around him like static. Mammon's teeth ground together, his rage palpable as he glared at Lobo, his eyes flashing with venom. The betrayal stung, sharper than any weapon Lobo could wield.
Gluttony Ring
The Gluttony Ring, ruled by Beelzebub, was a strange and unsettling place, a fusion of lush greenery and eerie, almost surreal beauty. Towering trees with blue bark and unsettling red eyes seemed to watch over the area, their leaves dripping with a sticky, crimson goo. The roads were laid out in an intricate hexagonal pattern, weaving through the odd architecture of wavy-shaped buildings. The sky above, a sickly yellow, cast an odd hue over the land, with a strange hexagonal pattern crossing the clouds like a grid over the ring. A perpetual green fog drifted lazily through the trees, adding to the air of mystery.
Inside Beelzebub's palace, a lavish party was underway. The walls of the hall pulsed with vibrant colors, reflecting the feast laid out before the guests, all indulgence and excess. As the queen of Gluttony, Beelzebub made sure to check in on her guests, her empathetic sense of taste allowing her to feel the joy, satisfaction, and excitement of those around her. It was the perfect evening—until it wasn't.
Her senses suddenly recoiled, as if an awful, aggressive taste had invaded her mind, like the rancid, putrid sensation of licking something foul. It was unlike anything she had ever encountered, sharp and invasive, a feeling that made her stomach churn in discomfort. Something was terribly wrong.
"Bee, you okay?" Vortex, her boyfriend, asked, his voice tinged with concern as he noticed the sudden shift in her demeanor.
"Someone in here is off. I don't know who, but it's bad," Beelzebub murmured, her voice low, trying to isolate the source of the disturbance. She followed the rancid taste through the crowd, the foul sensation growing more intense with each step. It was aggressive, hungry, and it led her straight to a man in a trench coat and fedora. His presence was overwhelming, like a cloud of hunger that swallowed the air around him.
Beelzebub, confident in her authority, tapped the stranger's shoulder. "Excuse me, I want you to leave," she said, her voice calm but firm, expecting him to back down.
The man turned, revealing a wicked grin that sent a chill down her spine. "Sure, I'll leave. After one last meal," he said, his voice a low, menacing growl.
In an instant, the stranger's true form revealed itself. The man was no longer a mere guest at the party. He was Parasite, a twisted, grotesque being who fed off the life force of others. His eyes glowed with hunger, and before Beelzebub could react, he grabbed her arm, sinking his claws into her flesh. A surge of pain shot through her body as he began to drain her power, her life force rapidly slipping away.
"AHHHHHHHH!" Beelzebub screamed in agony, her body writhing in pain as she tried to pull away, but Parasite's grip was unrelenting. The entire party froze, the music grinding to a halt as the guests stared in shock.
"Bee!" Vortex shouted, rushing toward her, but Parasite was faster. He turned, delivering a brutal slap that sent Vortex crashing into the wall, his body slamming into the ground with a sickening thud.
Beelzebub fell to the floor, unconscious from the sheer force of Parasite's draining power. Parasite's form began to shift, his body mutating as he absorbed more and more of Beelzebub's power. The transformation was grotesque—his muscles bulged, his features twisted into something more monstrous, and his hunger intensified. He grew extra arms and insect wings, and his biceps turns to a purple and silver lava lamp like liquid
"Alright, here's the new rules," Parasite declared, his voice deep and triumphant. "The party's over. You're all food for me now." The guests stood frozen, too shocked to move, their fear palpable in the air. "As for Bee… well, let's just say I have business with her."
Parasite lifted Beelzebub's limp form with ease, his new strength making him even more dangerous. With a cruel smile, he flew off, vanishing into the night, leaving chaos and terror in his wake. The partygoers stood in stunned silence, the once-celebratory atmosphere now shattered, replaced by a cold, empty fear.
Wrath Ring
The Wrath Ring, ruled by Satan, was a land of fiery, untamed wilderness, where the very earth seemed to burn with unrelenting fury. The sky was a deep, fiery orange, casting an oppressive glow over the landscape. Towering volcanoes loomed on the horizon, their peaks spitting molten lava, while orbs of lava floated ominously above them, as if defying gravity itself. The ground was scarred by old mine shafts, their rusted tracks stretching for miles, leading to nowhere but the endless expanse of rugged terrain. Hellish beasts roamed freely, their roars echoing through the air, while the labor of the inhabitants fed the insatiable hunger of the citizens of Hell.
In the heart of this desolate kingdom stood Satan's palace, a towering fortress of stone and fire. The structure was built to reflect his dominance, with massive gates that could withstand the fury of any who dared approach. Inside, Satan, the king of Wrath, loomed like a living nightmare.
He was a titanic, dragon-like demon, with an imposing, muscular form that radiated power. His scales were a mix of deep crimson and fiery orange, shimmering with a heat that could melt anything in its path. Four glowing orange-yellow eyes burned from his face, two on each side, their gaze piercing and unyielding. Two pairs of horns adorned his head: the outer horns were long, mauve in color, and twisted with an intimidating elegance, while the inner horns were shorter, black and white, reminiscent of a male imp, their shape resembling a pitchfork.
His wings were vast, spanning wide enough to block out the sun, and they bore lava-like stripes of bright orange-yellow on his left side, dark red on the right. His tail, thick and powerful, ended in a sharp spearhead, capable of slicing through rock with ease. Black spikes jutted from his back, stretching all the way down to the base of his tail, completing his fearsome appearance. He was dressed in a traditional American western-style outfit, as if to further cement his association with the impish workers of the Wrath Ring. A mauve tank top peeked out from under a torn black vest with tassels, adorned with red lapels and golden fasteners shaped like barbell weights. His black leather trousers were cinched with a belt bearing a golden skull buckle, and his black cowboy ankle boots clicked ominously against the stone floor as he paced.
Suddenly, the massive doors to Satan's palace were violently ripped off their hinges, crashing to the floor in a heap of splintered wood and twisted metal. A figure stepped into the room, his presence as imposing as the storm itself. Metallo, now a formidable machine, entered with a confident swagger, his body encased in a sleek new robot frame forged from angelic steel. His cold, calculating eyes scanned the room as he took a few steps forward, the metallic clank of his footsteps echoing throughout the palace.
"Do I become a knight if I kill a dragon?" Metallo quipped, his voice a low, mechanical growl, tinged with arrogance.
Satan's fiery eyes locked onto the intruder, his massive form bristling with fury. His wings flared out, and smoke billowed from his nostrils as a deep growl rumbled in his chest. "John Corben, you dare walk into my palace and threaten me? You think you can take my throne?" Satan's voice boomed with an authority that shook the very foundation of the palace.
Metallo chuckled darkly, his metallic arm transforming into a deadly chainsaw with a sharp, menacing whir. "What's the matter, Satan? Are you afraid of losing more than your chest hair?" he taunted, his chainsaw arm revving as he stepped closer, the blades spinning with lethal intent.
The tension in the air was palpable, a clash of titanic forces on the brink of explosion. The fiery king of Wrath and the deadly machine stood face to face, their eyes locked in a battle of wills. The room seemed to vibrate with the impending violence, the heat from Satan's body mingling with the cold, calculated energy emanating from Metallo's mechanical form.
The tension in the air was thick with fury, both Satan and Metallo locked in a deadly stare, their power crackling in the space between them. The air grew hotter, the temperature rising with each passing moment, as if the very room itself was preparing for the inevitable battle.
Satan's molten gaze burned with rage, his massive wings flaring wide, casting shadows across the chamber. "My power might be in you," he growled, his voice a low rumble of volcanic fury, "but you will see the true meaning of wrath." With a roar that shook the very foundations of the palace, Satan lunged forward, his claws extended like daggers, aiming for Metallo's metallic frame.
But Metallo was ready. With a flick of his wrist, his chainsaw arm roared to life, its teeth screeching as it sliced through the air. The two forces collided with a deafening crash. Satan's claws scraped against the chainsaw, sparks flying as they locked in a brutal struggle. The heat from Satan's body radiated outward, searing the air around them, but Metallo remained unaffected, his metallic frame built to withstand such intensity.
Satan growled in frustration, pushing against Metallo's chainsaw with all his might, his muscles bulging as he tried to overpower the machine. His claws scraped against the metal, leaving deep gouges, but Metallo was relentless. With a swift motion, Metallo swung his chainsaw arm in a wide arc, forcing Satan back. The dragon-like demon staggered, his massive wings flapping to regain his balance, but Metallo was already on the attack.
Without warning, Metallo's arm transformed again, this time into a bladed gauntlet, and he charged forward. The sound of grinding metal filled the air as he drove the blade deep into Satan's side, tearing through the demon's flesh with brutal efficiency. Satan roared in pain, the sound echoing throughout the palace as blood and molten lava spilled from the wound.
"Is this what you call wrath?" Metallo sneered, his voice cold and mocking. "Pathetic."
Satan gritted his teeth, his fiery eyes burning with hatred as he lashed out, swinging his tail like a whip. The spearhead of his tail collided with Metallo's chest, sending the machine skidding across the stone floor. The impact cracked the ground beneath them, but Metallo quickly recovered, his mechanical body absorbing the blow without faltering.
"Enough of this!" Satan roared, summoning all of his remaining strength. His wings beat violently, creating a gust of wind that sent debris flying through the air. With a massive, fiery breath, he unleashed a torrent of flame, aimed directly at Metallo.
But Metallo, ever the tactician, was already one step ahead. With a swift motion, he activated his thrusters, propelling himself upward and out of the path of the inferno. As the flames roared around him, he locked onto Satan with cold, calculated precision.
With a smirk, Metallo hurled a barrage of explosive energy blasts from his other arm, each one striking Satan with pinpoint accuracy. The explosions rocked Satan's body, causing the demon to stagger backward, his wings flapping wildly as he tried to regain his footing.
But it was too late. The combination of the relentless attacks and the overwhelming force of Metallo's power had taken its toll. Satan's movements slowed, his once-mighty form now battered and broken. He stumbled, his claws scraping the ground as he struggled to stay upright.
Metallo stepped forward, his chainsaw arm still humming with deadly intent. With a final, merciless swipe, he slashed across Satan's chest, cutting deep into the demon's flesh. The blow was enough to send Satan crashing to the ground, his body crumpling in a heap of molten lava and charred flesh.
Satan groaned, his breath ragged and labored, his once-proud form now lying defeated at Metallo's feet. His wings twitched weakly, but the fire in his eyes had dimmed. He tried to push himself up, but his body refused to obey. The weight of his injuries, combined with the overwhelming power of Metallo, had taken its toll.
With a final, guttural roar, Satan's body went limp, his eyes closing as unconsciousness claimed him. The fiery king of Wrath, once a titan of Hell, now lay motionless on the cold stone floor, defeated and broken by the cold, calculating might of Metallo.
Pride ring
Lucifer slowly stirred, the grogginess in his mind lifting as he took in his surroundings. His eyes narrowed as he saw Lilith beside him, her nightgown barely clinging to her form, her chains wrapped around her wrists and ankles. He glanced around the room, seeing the other Sins—each of them bound by chains, tubes connected to their bodies, their power seemingly siphoned away.
Then, he saw him.
Lex Luthor.
Lucifer sighed, a deep, drawn-out sound filled with both frustration and disdain. He had been in worse situations, but this one felt particularly galling. He had expected more from the likes of Luthor.
"Drugging your drinks was difficult," Lex said with a smug smile, adjusting his glasses as he stepped closer. "That's why I placed nanobots in your campaign, Lucifer."
Lucifer's gaze hardened as he leaned forward, the chains barely rattling as he shifted his posture. His voice dripped with sarcasm.
"Of course. Seven fucking years and all of this… just to upend the one man you can't stand. The one you can't even comprehend the acknowledgment of, and who, deep down, is better than you." Lucifer's eyes narrowed, his tone laced with disdain. "I'm not talking about anyone in Hell or Heaven."
Lex's eye twitched for a second, but he held his composure.
"Hell is under my jurisdiction, and I will rule it until the Man of Steel is dead." Lex's voice was cold, his words deliberate.
Satan, his massive dragon-like form towering over the others, growled in response.
"You're talking about breaking the foundation of order and chaos with your actions!" His voice was a deep rumble, filled with fury.
Mammon, ever the opportunist, chimed in.
"Yeah, I agree with the big guy here!" His voice was laced with sarcasm, but the underlying concern was evident.
Lucifer's expression softened as he turned to Lilith, his wife, who stood nearby, her face a mixture of concern and determination.
"My daughter believes in redemption, Lex. For my father's sake, do the damn right thing and just leave." His voice was calm, almost pleading.
Lex paused, his expression unreadable. He then pressed a button on a device in his hand.
Suddenly, the room was filled with a low hum, and large canisters began to fill with a dark liquid. The chains around Lucifer and the others tightened, and they felt a sharp pain as their blood was siphoned away.
"Don't worry," Lex said with a smirk. "I promise she'll join you soon."
Lucifer's eyes widened in horror.
"Lex! Don't you dare touch her!" His voice was a roar, filled with rage.
Lilith, her face contorted with fury, shouted, "Luthor, I will make sure your end will be painful!"
But Lex merely chuckled, his eyes cold and calculating.
"Your threats are meaningless," he said, turning on his heel. "Enjoy your last moments."
Hazbin Hotel - Lobby
Charlie sat on her bed, the phone pressed to her ear as she dialed her father's number again. The phone rang several times, but there was no answer. She furrowed her brow in confusion, tapping the screen to try again. Her fingers paused for a moment as she stared at the phone, slightly concerned.
"Hmm, that's weird. Dad usually picks up right away," she muttered to herself, glancing over at the clock on the wall. The time was late, but she didn't think it was too late for him to be unreachable.
She was about to call him again when the sound of the door creaking open interrupted her. Vaggie stepped into the room, her expression tense, her eyes wide with concern.
"Charlie, we have a problem," Vaggie said urgently, her voice low but serious. She didn't waste any time, walking straight toward Charlie with a sense of urgency in her step. "We need to get to the lobby. Now."
Charlie's eyes widened at the sight of Vaggie's demeanor, quickly slipping her phone into her pocket. "What's going on?" she asked, her voice laced with worry as she stood up from the bed.
"We'll explain later," Vaggie said, grabbing her hand and leading her out of the room. "Just hurry."
The two of them rushed down the hallway of the hotel, their footsteps echoing as they quickly made their way toward the main lobby. As they entered the large space, Charlie's eyes immediately landed on the familiar faces gathered around the TV screen. Alastor, Husk, Angel Dust, Sir Pentious, and Cherry Bomb were all glued to the broadcast, their faces filled with shock, confusion, and a touch of fear. The flickering images on the screen were the only source of light in the otherwise dim room.
"What's going on?" Charlie asked, her voice now anxious as she joined the group in front of the television.
Charlie stood frozen as the broadcast unfolded, her hands gripping the back of the couch. The screen flickered with a vivid image of Lex Luthor, sitting atop a throne of blackened flames, his piercing green eyes glowing with cold calculation. Around him stood a group of shadowy figures, each radiating an aura of menace and power.
Katie Killjoy, the infamous and ever-smug news anchor, appeared on screen, her grin replaced by an unusually serious expression.
Katie Killjoy: Breaking news from Hell. In an unprecedented and shocking move, the entire underworld has fallen under the control of a new regime. Lex Luthor, the notorious villain known for his insatiable greed and intellect, has orchestrated a takeover of Hell's entire hierarchy. And with this new regime, he's made sure that Hell will never be the same again."
The broadcast cut to a sweeping shot of Hell's crumbling streets, demons fleeing in panic as towering patrols of Luthor's mechanical forces stomped through the chaos. The camera zoomed in on his newly established fortress, a massive citadel of molten metal and glowing green light, built atop the ruins of Satan's domain.
Katie Killjoy: In a move that has stunned Hell's inhabitants, Luthor has not only seized control of Hell but also redefined the Seven Deadly Sins, appointing himself as the embodiment of Greed. Alongside him, a new group of notorious villains have been given the titles of the new Seven Sins, a terrifying alliance that now rules Hell."
The screen shifted to a bold graphic showcasing the new Seven Deadly Sins.
•Pride: Lex Luthor
•Greed: Lobo
•Wrath: Metallo
•Envy: Bizarro
•Lust: Livewire
•Gluttony: Parasite
•Sloth: Toyman
Each figure was depicted in haunting detail, their names written in fiery script beneath their sinister images.
Katie Killjoy: The takeover of Hell by this new alliance of villains has left the underworld in chaos. The previous rulers of Hell, including Satan and Beelzebub, have been overthrown and cast aside, their power usurped by these ruthless new leaders. Many denizens of Hell are already beginning to fear the consequences of this change. Will Luthor's control extend beyond the borders of Hell? Only time will tell.
The broadcast cut to a live scene of Hell's streets, now engulfed in flames and anarchy. Protesters clashed with Luthor's enforcers, their cries drowned out by the mechanical roar of drones and the cracking of whips. Shadows of towering demons loomed in the distance, shackled and forced to kneel before Luthor's forces.
Katie Killjoy: In the wake of this violent upheaval, Hell's inhabitants have no choice but to submit to the new order, as Luthor and his Sins reshape the very fabric of the underworld. The question remains—how will this impact not only Hell but also the mortal realm? One thing is certain: Lex Luthor and his new Seven Deadly Sins will stop at nothing to solidify their dominance."
The screen returned to Luthor on his throne, his cold smirk a declaration of victory.
Charlie's voice trembled as she broke the silence. "This… this can't be real. How could he do this? My dad—"
Alastor's voice interrupted, uncharacteristically somber. "Your father's absence might explain quite a bit, my dear. This coup didn't happen overnight."
Angel Dust crossed his arms, a rare look of concern on his face. "I mean, seriously? Luthor's bad news, but taking over Hell? That's some next-level psycho stuff."
Vaggie stepped closer to Charlie, her hand on her shoulder. "This isn't just about your dad. If Luthor can take over Hell, he might not stop there. The balance between the realms is in danger."
Husk groaned, sipping his drink. "Great. Just what we needed. Another power-hungry maniac screwing things up."
Cherry Bomb grinned, though her eyes burned with defiance. "Well, if he thinks he's gonna keep us down, he's got another thing coming."
Charlie straightened her posture, her determination shining through the fear. "We're not going to let this happen. We have to find my dad, rally whoever's left, and stop Luthor before it's too late."
Vaggie nodded, her voice firm. "We're with you, Charlie. Whatever it takes."
Alastor's grin returned, this time sharper and darker. "Well, well, it seems things are about to get very… entertaining."
Husk groaned, swirling the drink in his paw. "Yeah, but how? The guy's not only got your father's powers but also the powers of the Sins, plus a costumed whackjob army to back him up. That's not exactly something we can take on with a smile and a pep talk."
Charlie frowned in thought, her hands fiddling nervously before she pulled out a folded piece of paper from her jacket. She unfolded it and held it up for the group to see: a grainy image of Lex Luthor standing face-to-face with Superman, his smug expression barely concealing his disdain.
"Wait a second," Charlie said, tapping the photo. "This guy isn't just some random villain. He's an enemy of Superman."
Angel Dust leaned in, tilting his head as he examined the photo. "Hoo boy, look at that jawline. What a hunk!"
Vaggie rolled her eyes, smacking Angel lightly on the arm. "Focus, Angel."
Charlie ignored the comment, her eyes lighting up with realization. "Superman… he's someone who's stood up to Luthor before, right? If we can figure out how Superman defeated him, maybe we can find a way to stop him here, even with all the powers he's stolen."
Alastor chuckled darkly, his voice dripping with amusement. "Ah, so the princess wants to play detective, does she? Very well, darling. Let's see where this little trail of breadcrumbs leads."
Cherry Bomb grinned, cracking her knuckles. "Sounds like a plan. And hey, if we run into any of his goons along the way, I'll be happy to blow 'em sky-high."
Husk sighed, finishing his drink in one gulp. "I guess we don't have much of a choice. But don't expect me to be all sunshine and rainbows about this."
Charlie straightened up, her eyes sharp with determination. "First, we need a portal to the human world. Luckily, I know a guy." She pulled out her phone and quickly texted her uncle, Stolas.
A moment later, there was a loud knock at the hotel door. Charlie's heart leaped as she hurried to open it, but instead of her uncle, she was met by a towering, metallic figure. The LexBot's cold, glowing eyes scanned her from head to toe.
"Designation: Charlotte Morningstar, former princess and heiress to the throne of Hell," the LexBot announced in a mechanical monotone. Its arms shifted with a metallic clank, transforming into high-powered rifles. "You are to comply with surrender, or we will use force to apprehend you and your associates."
Charlie stumbled back, her breath hitching as the LexBot aimed its weapons. "Uh, again with the sudden, please!"
Before anyone could react, a deafening roar of an engine echoed through the air. Suddenly, a black van barreled through the LexBots, smashing them into pieces.
"Yeah! How you like my driving, asshole?" Blitzo's unmistakable voice rang out as he stuck his head out the window with a manic grin.
The van's doors swung open, and out stepped Stolas, Octavia, Loona, Moxxie, and Millie. Stolas extended a hand toward Charlie. "Charlie! Quickly, everyone, get inside!"
"Hey! I'm not a taxi service!" Blitzo snapped as the group scrambled into the van.
Charlie turned to look back at the wreckage, only to see the shattered remains of the LexBots twitching unnervingly. Their eyes began to glow bright red, flashing rapidly.
"What the hell is it doing?" Blitzo asked, glancing in the rearview mirror.
Sir Pentious's expression darkened as he peered over Charlie's shoulder. "That's a distress signal. They're calling reinforcements!"
"Then drive faster!" Vaggie shouted, gripping the seat tightly as Blitzo slammed his foot on the gas, the van lurching forward with a screech.
As the van sped through the streets of Hell, the eerie red glow of the LexBots' distress signal grew fainter behind them, only to be replaced by the blaring hum of incoming LexBot reinforcements.
"We got company!" Loona shouted, her sharp eyes catching the reflection of flying LexBots in the side mirrors. A barrage of gunfire erupted from the pursuing bots, riddling the air with streaks of energy.
Angel Dust leaned out of the van with an almost manic grin, wielding four Tommy guns, one in each hand. "Let's see how you like some good old-fashioned lead!" he hollered, unloading a relentless stream of bullets.
Moxxie popped up beside him, struggling to steady a mounted minigun, while Millie balanced a sniper rifle with expert precision. "Take that, you tin bastards!" Millie growled, firing shot after shot.
Despite their combined firepower, the LexBots remained mostly unscathed, the bullets pinging off their reinforced armor.
"These things are tougher than they look!" Moxxie grunted, his hands aching from the vibration of the minigun.
"Stolas, we need to get to Metropolis!" Charlie called over the chaos, her voice edged with desperation.
Stolas, seated in the cramped van, barely managed to avoid a stray shot as he replied, "I believe that's going to be a bit difficult at the moment, my dear!"
"Dad, please!" Octavia pleaded, clutching his arm tightly.
"ANY FUCKING IDEAS?!" Cherry Bomb screamed as she hurled several bombs out the back of the van. They exploded mid-air, creating fiery clouds that briefly slowed the LexBots but didn't stop them.
One of the LexBots fired a well-placed shot, and the van jolted violently as a tire blew out. The vehicle skidded uncontrollably before crashing into a lamp post with a loud crunch.
Groans filled the van as its occupants tried to recover from the impact. Husk rubbed his head, muttering curses under his breath, while Charlie quickly glanced at the rearview mirror. Her eyes widened in horror as a new figure stepped into view.
Emerging from the smoke and wreckage of the pursuing LexBots was Metallo, his metallic body gleaming under the hellish glow of the streetlights. His eyes burned green, powered by the Kryptonite core embedded in his chest.
"Oh, you've got to be kidding me," Vaggie muttered, grabbing a weapon from the van's stash.
Metallo stomped closer, his footsteps heavy and deliberate. With a menacing smirk, he raised his arm, transforming it into a razor-sharp axe. With one powerful swing, he cleaved through the side of the van, peeling back the metal like it was paper.
Leaning in, he sneered at the group, his mechanical voice dripping with mockery. "Here's Johnny!" he quipped, referencing The Shining. But as his eyes scanned the interior of the van, he noticed something odd.
The demons were gone.
Frowning, Metallo's gaze shifted upward, catching sight of a glowing arcane circle drawn hastily on the ceiling of the van. The intricate runes pulsed with otherworldly energy, a sure sign of Stolas's magic.
Metallo growled in frustration, slamming his axe-hand into the side of the van. "Cowards!" he snarled, his Kryptonite core pulsing with an ominous green glow. He straightened, scanning the area, but there was no trace of his quarry.
The demons had escaped.