~Lucifer Morningstar~
He couldn't help but frown when he tasted the air while walking through the alleyways to orient himself and walk off the explosion of eldritch energies that brought him to this place. They landed in what seemed like the slums of a middling city in decline. Their arrival miraculously caused close to no damage, but that didn't mean the place was in a good state. Not at all.
The daylight illuminated rundown warehouses sprayed with all kinds of crude graffiti that seemed to portray similar symbolism, making him guess at some kind of organised effort. Especially since the styles, if one could call the amateurish attempts at art such a thing, didn't match each other. The scent of the sea mingled with the stench of trash and other less desirable odours.
The state of his surroundings wasn't the reason for his instinctive dislike however. He knew that more often than not, one's Fate was out of one's own hands and she was a lazy bitch who tended to bring down entire civilizations with her whims. No, the thing that made his flawless features twist in dislike was the mounting desolation he sensed. The sheer hopelessness that didn't stop at the obvious slums but extended to the whole of the city.
It was a foul feeling for several reasons, but none as pronounced as the stupendous amount of Sin he perceived in close proximity. And it wasn't the fun kind either. This was a mortal realm and yet, at least in this city, it felt more like one of the middle realms of Hell. He shelved that thought when he realised that he was in a bit of a pickle.
The ancient device that had randomly activated and that had consequently tickled his curiosity was supposed to transport him to a random place on earth. Since he had a trip to the mortal realms planned anyways, this was supposed to add a bit of spice to the adventure. Instead of fulfilling it's original purpose it malfunctioned and exploded, sending him... somewhere with his closest confidantes. Luckily, he managed to protect his suit. It was one of his favourites.
Now he had other problems though. He was fairly certain that they were stranded in a foreign cluster of worlds with little to no information and no access to the local infernal realms. He felt they existed, but they didn't seem... open? As if they were sealed away and forgotten for aeons. The same seemed to be the case when he decided to indulge in a flight of whimsy and try to contact Amy.
His oaf of a brother didn't seem to have a counterpart in this world and the celestial realm was as distant as the Infernal ones. At least he had Mazikeen and Cherona with him. It wouldn't do to leave his capable minion and his most loyal lapdog behind.
"Stop staring or I'll fillet that sorry little sausage you call a cock with a rusty spoon."
His enchanting companion apparently made contact with the locals and decided to speak her favourite language. Violence. She preferred the physical kind but wasn't averse to the verbal sort either as one could hear. To be fair, he understood her somewhat rude reaction in this case. It wasn't the fact that he was looking. She usually took the attention as a compliment.
No, it was the person who did it that woke her distaste. The man who was shamelessly ogling her had a personal hygiene that left much to be desired and he was beyond such concepts as intoxicated from whatever was flowing through his bloodstream. The fact that he could smell his rancid odour against the wind over a distance of several metres was worrying and likely marked the man as a biohazard.
He would have been impressed if he wasn't so disgusted. This person had precisely no class. Though, he was sitting on top of a rather interesting motorised vehicle. It was matte grey in colour and had more edges than Maze's set of infernal torture instruments. The tires were broader than usual and stubbed with metal spikes. He could glimpse small hooks on the spikes, indicating that their use was more subtle than it seemed at first. His observations were rudely interrupted by the grating voice of a dead man.
"Shut up you wannabe sand nigger cunt! Don't you know who I am?! I'm motherfucking Skidmark and I'll fuck you up before I make you my bitch and put you to use as a cock ornament! Now don't struggle too...-"
That was as far as he got before a hell-forged dagger was sheathed between his blood-shot eyes with a wet squelch. What little in terms of brain cells he hadn't destroyed with his obviously unhinged addictions was thoroughly scrambled by the corrupted metal. The interesting thing that caught his attention was the flicker of... something he felt before the blade pierced his rotten, spongy brain.
Whatever it was, it managed to slow the dagger for a fraction of a second before it gave in. 'How peculiar...' He mused before turning to the three druggies who had accompanied the unrefined man and the driving woman who seemed almost as intoxicated as the dead man.
Despite her advanced level of self-induced stupor, she was still the first to react and she did so with a distressed, almost manic voice. She tensed before calling out while the idiot three were still staring dumbly at the corpse of their apparent leader.
"Skiddie?! You killed my Skiddie?!"
Mazikeen didn't answer and instead sashayed up to the body that had since slipped from the strange car and fallen to the ground where it was bleeding out languidly. She ignored the machine gun that was pointed at her with shaking hands and put a foot to his chest with clear disgust on her face.
She then pulled out the blade from his head with another, even more disgusting wet sound before commenting with revulsion clearly audible in her voice.
"Ugh. I'll have to deep clean this dagger. And the shoe. You know what? I'll have my whole outfit washed after this. The smell of that guy is more cursed than a rancor demon's."
He nodded along with a concurring expression on his face before stepping forward. The dirt-caked woman who could have been rather attractive if she didn't look as if she'd taken all the drugs and mixed them into one unholy cocktail and offered in exchange the ability to take a shower. She swivelled around and pointed her gun at him instead. Not the best decision she could have made, but an understandable one.
Maze first and foremost was a huntress. She passively released an Aura of danger that made her target reluctant to engage in combat with her. It was kind of like triggering instincts of prey towards a predator. From time to time this caused unconventional results, but the woman freezing up like this and then changing to a presumably easier target was a textbook response.
Of course, she couldn't have been more wrong with her threat assessment. With a casual step he was beside the car door and he didn't even need to put in any effort to bend the gun's muzzle upwards. He then stared into the terrified woman's eyes before sighing.
"None of that my dear. Your mind is beyond muddled and your Soul is a murky mess. You are a victim, but that does not absolve you from everything you've done."
Drawing on the source of his Power, he laid a hand on top of her head and cringed from the greasy sensation of her hair. She whimpered in fear as his hand began to glow. He was surprised how easy it was to invoke this Miracle but put it to the back of his head for now and concentrated on his verdict instead.
"Your Punishment is your cure. You will not have the excuse of addiction any longer. From this day on, you will remember all the Sins you have committed under influence. You will recall with crystal clarity all the wrongs you committed. This is your punishment, but it can be a salvation too. Remember my words and do try to redeem yourself."
The glow intensified for a moment before it died down to a slight glimmer that faded away to nothing. She slumped over, only held in an upright seated position by his grasp. Gently, he guided her body to lay sideways before telling her with a soft voice while ensuring that his words reached her mind.
"Sleep now. Your new life begins once you awaken."
His eyes wandered over to the situation with the three morons and it was handled well by Maze and Cherona. They were herded against the bleak and damaged wall while shivering in fear under Maze's smirk and Cherona's lazy growl. He could smell the sour stench of terror on their unwashed bodies and it enraged him.
Their Souls were almost as dark as their leader's. They must have ruined the lives of uncountable people. They have taken the choices, the free will from their victims. They deserved far worse a Punishment than merely to feel a fraction of the terror they caused others. Luckily, he had a talent in that particular field of expertise.
"And who do you think you are, you cocksucking bastard?"
One of them pressed out with false bravado coating his voice when he stepped closer to the contained sinners. Lucifer didn't know where the man found this confidence, false as it was, when their leader was taken out in nary a second. Stupidity was a drug of its own, he supposed. That didn't mean he wouldn't retaliate against these baseless accusations however.
The three drugged up stooges in front of him began to shiver when he allowed part of the firm control that he habitually exercised to slip. Heat bloomed around him as his Presence unfolded. Fire and Brimstone manifested in the material world and the atmosphere shifted as the somewhat mocking smile he had adopted transformed into a sharp little thing.
"Now, is there really a need for such slanderous name-calling? I'll have you know, my parents were married by the highest of authorities. Rarely was there a more legitimate child than me. That said, do let me introduce myself..."
The step he took placed him directly in front of the outspoken and suddenly rather terrified goon. All his bravado was gone when he grabbed him by his unwashed throat and slammed him into the wall beside him. He took care not to squash him like the worm he was. Mortals were oh so fragile after all.
"The name is Lucifer Morningstar. Some may know me as the Devil, Satan, the King of Hell, the old Scratch, and oh so many other rather unflattering epithets. This isn't about me however. It's about you and the grime on that deplorable little squirming thing that is your Soul."
He looked into his eyes and found a mind fragile from drug abuse and other destructive habits. That much would have been fine. Exercising his free will to utterly destroy his worthless life with his own hands was his Father given right. No, it was what he did to others that made him a Sinner. Some of the Wrath he reserved for his personal projects slipped into his voice as he continued.
"So much Sin is on your regrettably immortal Soul that I doubt even my dear brother could cleanse it with his sacrifice. Your companions aren't any better either. No wonder you flocked under a leader like this. Killing him was a service to any community the miserable parasite managed to cling to. And you three fellows are just barely a step up. You are deplorable examples of humanity, aren't you?"
He didn't wait for an answer that would never come from a man who only now seemed to begin to realise just how utterly fucked he was. Lucifer didn't take his apparently lacking IQ to heart. Few brain cells had survived his excesses and they were busy trying to process the mind numbing terror he was subjected to.
Knowing full well that it was overkill, he nevertheless felt the need show him a hint of what was waiting for him at the End. A single ember of Hellfire flashed through his eyes and this mere glimpse was enough to shatter the panicking man's fragile psyche. He released a bloodcurdling scream before folding into himself bonelessly.
Lucifer gladly obliged and let go, causing him to crumble to the ground before curling himself in a fetal position on the ground and starting to sob uncontrollably while muttering 'I'm sorry... I'm so, so sorry...' on repeat. He turned to the other two with ice-cold eyes and a thin smile that certainly did not communicate amusement.
They had more luck than their colleague however. He had no desire to taint himself any further. With a scrunched nose, he retrieved a handkerchief from his suit pocket and cleaned the besmirched hand before waving negligently towards them.
"Shoo. Run along and spread the gospel. The Devil has come out to play and if you do not clean up your act? You might just end up as my next playthings. Believe me. I'll know. What are you waiting for? Run along."
The growl in his last words sent a shiver through their bodies and they quickly turned to follow his order. He glanced at Maze from the corner of his eyes and found her left hand twitching towards the throwing knives in an abandoned gesture. Running prey always triggered her hunting instincts. She was such an endearing little demon. As if she read his thoughts, she turned a stink eye on him.
"Careful, boss. I'm not above shoving a hell-forged blade into your Celestial bullshit liver. May not kill you but I promise I'll make it hurt."
"Don't threaten me with a good time, my dear."
She growled in that endearing way of hers at his answer. As if she was a grumpy, abused puppy who was abandoned and adopted in short measure, only to come to learn that her new owner was nothing like her old one. Confused and too stubborn to acknowledge the truth, she continued to act out to test the waters.
He blinked. That was a peculiar comparison. It did wake the strange desire to pet her though. Something of it must have shown in his eyes because she jumped backwards with an alarmed expression, making him chuckle good-naturedly. She grumbled about selfish assholes and moronic bosses who didn't even give any time off before turning around to leave.
He was startled when he realised she was correct. 'Since she was inducted, she hasn't had a single day where she wasn't on duty.' He mused and resolved to grant her some time for herself. He was just about to follow when a voice called out from behind them.
"Halt! I will have to take you in for questioning!"
He turned around, curious as to who had the gall to try and take him in. What he found was a mature woman who had a bandana bound around her face. He almost groaned when a suspicon began to form in his mind. He would never escape the spandex, it seemed.
Half of her rather attractive features were hidden superficially by the strip of clothing and he idly wondered if she thought that this would do anything to hide her identity in front of a determined individual. She was a clearly fit woman with olive skin and bottle glass green eyes in what looked like glorified army fatigues.
Beyond the fact that she wore a costume, her entire demeanour came across as severe and disciplined. That image was helped along not just by her posture but also by the seasoned look in her eyes. The one thing that drew his attention beyond her obviously appealing appearance was that she too had access to that strange energy he briefly felt from Maze's newest victim.
Her version expressed itself as a peculiar greenish black energy that flitted around her hand before transforming into an assault rifle that she pointed at him with the smoothness born of countless practice hours. An intrigued smile spread on his lips. Maybe this trip would end up more interesting than he originally thought.
~Miss Militia/Hannah~
She was on her standard patrol route in the docks when she was suddenly called by the console for an emergency. The confirmed fatality of the Archer's Bridge Merchant's leader. Skidmark was confirmed dead after an altercation with an unknown entity suspected to be a Cape.
She hurried over to the place where the clash had happened and soon found some troopers who had picked up two of the survivors who were rambling away in their drugged haze. Under her bandana, she felt her mouth curl in distaste at the sight but she kept her voice professional as she inquired about the situation with short and concise questions.
Skidmark, Squealer, and three of his goons decided to drive through the docks to do who knew what. The man was unpredictable at the best of times and even more so when he was drugged up to the gills... Which was his permanent status, now that she thought about it. They ran afoul of a well dressed gentleman and a woman with their dog. The woman took offence at the lecherous gaze of the gang leader and called him out on it with a crude threat.
Skidmark wouldn't have been Skidmark if he didn't respond with a foul slew of words unfit for polite company. That was when the encounter shifted. It went entirely different than anyone expected when the woman produced a dagger and promptly ended his life with an immaculate throw.
This happened a few minutes ago and she was the only hero close by to provide backup in a timely manner. Velocity could have managed it, but he was preoccupied with stalling Krieg who was part of another Empire rally they put to stop.
The agents who had grabbed the goons, who were rambling about playing devils of all things, were pretty green in the field so she told them to wait for backup while she scouted ahead to make herself a picture of the situation. It didn't take her long to approach and now she was here. 'Let's get this over with...' she thought as she sighed.
Contact with new capes on the scene was always stressful. Especially if they were fresh triggers, though that didn't seem to be the case here. The situation was turned far more dire by their apparent willingness to kill.
Sure, the person they murdered was absolute scum and she admittedly had some idle fantasies about shoving a whole belt of live grenades down his foul mouth, but killing among Capes was forbidden by the Unwritten Rules for good reason. Nothing good ever came from escalating to lethal force.
Those thoughts wandered her mind before she focused completely as she approached the alley between two decrepit warehouses sprayed by ABB goons to incite the merchants. She should have turned around and waited for backup as she suggested to the agents. Instead, against her better judgement, she approached and stole a glimpse of the alleyway.
Her trained eyes picked up a plethora of potentially important details, such as the fact that the wall above the weeping merchant was cracked in a way that suggested superhuman force. 'At the very least a low-level brute then.' The next thing she noticed was the bent muzzle of the gun lying on the ground, making her push the brute rating to at least mid levels.
Another peculiar point she noticed was that it was a tad harder to breathe and she could smell a hint of sulphur in the air. 'A blaster rating too?' She added to her observations as she took in the entire scene. The fact that Squealer was still breathing in her newest wheeled monstrosity made this slightly less of a clusterfuck.
That was when she noticed one very troubling fact. 'They aren't masked. This... This is not good.' She thought to herself but sharpened her focus when she noticed that they were getting ready to leave after a bit of banter.
"Halt! I will have to take you in for questioning!"
She impulsively called after them as she got ready to pursue if they decided to flee, and regretted the action in the very same moment. Her call drew the attention of the man while the woman glanced at her and rolled her eyes before leaning against a wall to observe from the side with a surly and bored expression on her face.
The massive dog, which looked as if it went one too many rounds in Hookwolf's Dog Fighting Rings, plopped down lazily in front of the woman's feet and watched the proceedings with clear interest in its eyes.
The first thing she noticed when he turned fully to her was that he was absurdly attractive. The mischievous smile on his face oozed sinful temptation, so she did what she was trained to do. She produced an assault rifle and wordlessly pointed it at him.
She didn't think his attractiveness was part of a master effect but better safe than sorry. Faint worry spread through her when she noticed that instead of fear, amusement flashed through his eyes and the smile on his lips turned mischievous.
"Does this... questioning include being cuffed? I heard cuffs feature prominently in police work and I am willing to try. Preferably, I'd like to be shackled to a bed, but I am open to other venues you might suggest."
She wasn't prepared for his voice. It was like warm velvet, luxurious and soft to her ear. His body language was concerning as it showed that he didn't feel threatened at all as he looked her up and down appreciatively without making it seem disrespectful.
"If you are the one to... question me, I might just turn myself in. If I confess to being a naughty boy, will you spank me? I am a full believer in equality, so we can take turns if you want."
He winked at her and she fought down a scowl and a blush at the blatantly flirtatious tone of his voice as well as his choice of words. The way his smooth voice caressed her ears with its sinful baritone almost made her shiver, but she kept herself under control with the discipline forged by uncountable hostile encounters, even as she bristled at the lackadaisical manner he was treating her with.
The years of service she had under her belt didn't prepare her for the completely casual and teasing way the man she was threatening with armed force was interacting with her. His words drew some more risque thoughts to the front of her mind, but they all fled when he began to move. He stalked towards her with the grace of a predator and her eyes sharpened and she warned.
"Stand still. If you continue to approach, I will be forced to shoot."
Since he ignored her warning as if he hadn't even heard it, she did what any self-respecting American would do in such a situation. Her rifle deposited its non-lethal load with pinpoint accuracy. Only to be proven entirely ineffectual. She would have understood if they simply bounced off his body without any effect as they were prone to when they hit a high-level brute.
That wasn't what happened though. Instead, his hand lashed out, showcasing blinding speed and startling precision when he plucked all the projectiles she fired at him from the air with casual ease. He then looked at her with playful disapproval in his faintly amused gaze before tsking at her and commented idly.
"That won't do, my dear. This is a Desmond Merrion original. I traded two favours for this one. It is a custom-made piece from the hands of the master himself. As long as I don't know the quality of this world's suits, protecting the integrity of this piece of clothing is of paramount importance."
'His suit... He is worried about his suit...' Disbelief spread through her at his words. What was this situation? Was she caught in a fever dream even though she was a Noctis Cape? Maybe she breathed in too much sulfur and was hallucinating?
"Also, rubber bullets? Truly? I do feel like I'm being severely underestimated here, but it is understandable I suppose. I did not bother introducing myself after all. For fairness sake, you should first know who you are dealing with before we continue this delightfully one-sided conversation."
He never once stopped his slow and methodical approach. She didn't fire another load. She had a profound feeling of certainty that nothing she could do would be capable of damaging this man. She didn't really know where that feeling came from but she trusted her instincts and they told her that not even live ammunition would have an effect. That it would better for her health to try the diplomatic route instead of the violent one.
Not that she had much of a choice. A strange kind of pressure settled on her, as if she was in front of an insurmountable entity. Not even standing in front of an Endbringer elicited such a response from her. She also wasn't quite ready to have her throat slit for nothing. She resisted the urge to flinch when she felt a decidedly sharp blade settle against her throat.
She didn't even see the dusk-skinned woman move. One moment, she was leaning against the wall and the next, she was behind her. While he didn't seem all that put out by the attack on his person, she was a different matter entirely. She took offence to say the least.
Her murderous fury was palpable in a way she hadn't experienced even in her most harrowing battles and it belied the bored expression she had on her face before. Beads of sweat were running down the side of her head as she waited for his verdict. She had no doubt that it was only his continued amusement that kept the strange dagger at bay.
"Lucifer Morningstar, at your service."
His silken voice dropped a few octaves and was far more entrancing up close than from afar. While it was a definite plus for her that he seemed open to dialogue despite the fact that he had to know she was expecting backup any moment now, she was worried about his lax demeanour. He didn't seem to be incompetent enough to not grasp the fact that she would likely receive support.
'The unbothered gleam in his eyes and his relaxed stance might have some not-so-great implications... As does his chosen name, now that I think about it...' She buried that thought in the back of her mind and concentrated on the task in front of her. Stalling.
"I am known as Miss Militia while in costume. I'm sorry to say that I do not feel comfortable enough with you to divulge my civilian name to you. It's a sign of great trust to do so, you understand. Evidently, you don't care much for the Unwritten Rules considering Skidmark's demise, but that's not a common stance."
The tone of her voice was terse and slightly judgmental as she stared into his warm, brown eyes that were sparking with curiosity. It was an unspoken provocation despite her predicament. She felt uniquely helpless in this situation, and the blade to her throat only made up a minor fragment of the origin for this feeling.
He chuckled as if her words amused him and the sound was far more pleasant to her ears than she bothered to contemplate. She didn't show her inner conflict on the outside and forced her body into a rigid stance screaming defiance instead.
"I know little of the rules of this world but since I will likely spend considerable time here, I will learn. Now, since your civilian name is off limits, why don't you tell me what drives you. What dwells in the deepest recesses of your heart? What is your deepest desire."
He stared into her eyes and his words left her spell-bound and almost without her input, she found herself answering his question truthfully even as she suffered an epiphany when she uttered long repressed yearning.
"I want to see this world freed from the personified existential fear that are the Endbringers. I want it cleansed from the scum that disrespects the sacrifices made by true heroes. I desire lasting peace and a family to enjoy it with..."
She gasped and she could feel tears rise in her eyes. With her emotional state a mess, the glare she had levelled at him redoubled and she hissed with barely restrained fury.
"What did you just do to me? Did you master me?"
Through the red haze of impotent anger, she saw his eyes soften into something approaching appreciation and with a gentle wave, he called off his pet assassin. The emotions in his voice were unreadable when he addressed the dagger wielding mover with a sharp glance.
"Leave her be, Maze. People like her are the reason why I haven't yet lost hope for my Father's pet project. For what it's worth, I apologise for the trouble we caused but I want to have it known that the man who died deserved far worse than a quick and comparatively merciful end for the uncountable number of atrocities he must have committed. I am not aware of those Unwritten Rules of yours, but if people like him fall under their protective umbrella, you may want to rethink them thoroughly."
The pressure surrounding her didn't let up so she couldn't move, but at least she wasn't any longer in danger of dying because the aggressive woman sneezed at an inopportune moment. After uttering those cryptic words, he turned around and walked away leisurely while adjusting his suit. Evidently, he was no longer in the mood for dialogue.
His words strangely resonated within her as if his opinion actually had weight even though he failed to answer her question. She fell to her knees when the intense pressure finally let up and wondered when was the last time she felt so boundlessly helpless. Idly, she noticed that during all the time they just spent talking, the goon in the corner of the alley had never stopped weeping and mumbling apologies.
Moments after she collapsed to her knees, her backup finally arrived. Assault and Battery barreled into the alleyway followed by several other heroes arriving, including Armsmaster and numerous agents of the PRT. From her tinkering superior, she learned the disturbing fact that they were kept away from her by a strange golden barrier.
They showed her a video of the dome that had encased the area, which was completely invisible from the inside. A strange script rhythmically flowed over the exceedingly durable barrier that was strong enough to take several shots from some of Armsmaster's strongest weapons without budging even slightly.
She felt some of those symbols to be familiar but didn't know where from. The name he gave her made religious sources a likely valuable choice to scour through. The thought that she unknowingly was without even a chance for backup with who would probably soon be outed as a villain was bone chilling to her, especially since he was clearly in the superior position all the time.
She couldn't see even a hint of nervousness or insecurity in his body language and neither could she find any uncertainty in his eyes. He admitted to not even having knowledge of the Unwritten Rules and thus had no regard for them. In short, the strange cape was a conundrum. A dangerous one.
Did he lie to her in regards to not knowing the Unwritten Rules? It didn't seem so. She couldn't imagine what he would get out of lying to her about that and she had the feeling he wasn't dishonest, but where would a Cape have to live to not learn them?
She would have understood if he was from a poor country with little in the way of technology. A high level mover who triggered and accidentally came to Brockton Bay. It was unlikely but not impossible. That clearly wasn't the case here.
His accent was a distinguished British one and his suit, if his words were true, was worth more than three months of her salary. How could a man such as this, who was clearly too skilled with his powers to be a fresh trigger, not know anything about the Unwritten Rules?
She quickly understood that she wouldn't find an answer to her questions without first gathering more information, so she shelved her thoughts and concentrated on the important things.
'No matter what else happens, Brockton Bay is now home to another set of powerful Capes... And their dog. I just hope they won't join a gang. Or make one.' She groused to herself while inwardly groaning. She just realised that with her report, she would certainly end up in M/S Screening. That was going to be at least 5 hours of her life that she wouldn't get back.
She sighed as she sat down in the back of the van that would bring her to the Rig. She was dreading the debriefing for this one. She knew she should have waited for backup before entering a potentially hostile situation and engaging a foreign and likely volatile cape, but she didn't follow procedure.
It wasn't just a strange feeling that nudged her to engage. There were legitimate reasons too. She wanted to make sure they got at least some information on them beyond the grainy footage from the camera that had filmed their initial encounter with Skidmark and Squealer. She couldn't just let a verified murderer escape without doing anything.
'Well, I at least managed the first part.' She thought sardonically while trying to somehow, in the back of her mind, make sense of the guy she met. Luckily she was a Noctis Cape so she'd have time on her hands to ponder the encounter. And replay all the mistakes that may have cost her her life if this 'Lucifer Morningstar' was just a bit more vicious.
And wasn't that a strange and somewhat megalomaniac choice for a name? Her adoptive father was a soldier and a believer, so she had quite a bit of contact with religion over the time of her post-trigger childhood. Everything before was a bit of a haze. She remembered bits and pieces of her life in the little village in Kurdistan before it was razed to the ground to collect some living minesweepers, but the crystal clear recall she received as part of her powers didn't include her life before triggering.
She didn't really mind since her dad ensured she had proper psychological support to get to terms with her situation. She knew she was lucky, all things considered. So yes. Technically she was a Christian, but she never really found solace in belief due to her pragmatic mindset. Why would she believe in something intangible guiding her way when she had the choice to act instead?
This was why she decided to be a hero. She didn't need a guiding hand. She could make the world a better place by following her duty and conscience. Still, she obviously knew the story of the fallen Angel. God's favourite, fallen from Grace through hubris only to return as an antagonist. The incarnation of Sin.
Choosing such a name for himself was... concerning to say the least. 'He called his companion Maze... Is the name arbitrary or does it hint at her powers?' She had so many thoughts and questions running through her head that it was a challenge to sort through them even with her slightly enhanced mental capacity and that wasn't even mentioning the problems she hoisted for herself with her stunt.
Reasons or not, she ignored protocol for what had to be the first time in years and that would cost her. 'Director Piggot is going to rip me a new one for that stunt...' She acknowledged to herself with half-lidded eyes, already imagining her superior's face going a peculiar shade of puce that was decidedly unhealthy for her.
She wouldn't scream or shout. She was too controlled for that. Instead, she would hiss like a leaky gas valve before quieting down for a minute or two in which she stared the target of her ire down with mounting fury. When she finally laid into them, she did it with an authoritative and glacial tone of voice that brokered no backtalk.
She sighed. It had been a while since she was the target of Director Piggot's more... unkind attention. Not that she was kind in any way at the best of times. Nevertheless, she almost had the feeling the woman was beginning to somewhat tolerate her. And now all that effort, unintentional as it might have been, would be gone.
'Oh well...' She thought in an uncharacteristically flippant way and decided to meditate a bit to calm her thoughts before they'd arrive. She was just glad that her comrades read her mood and left her to her thoughts. Well, that and the suspicion of a Master influence made it protocol to not engage with her until she was safely secured. The occasional worried glances they sent her were a bit distracting though.
~Lucifer Morningstar~
He frowned as they walked through the streets in an unhurried manner. He had absentmindedly created some more barriers to ensure their relaxed walk through what was likely to be their new home wouldn't be interrupted. His thoughts wandered as he tried to make sense of his senses. Usually, he had to push through all the corruption and the thick haze of... disapproval, courtesy of his Father Dearest, to access even the tiniest hint of his original powers.
He was known as Samael The Lightbringer, once upon a time. The Creator of Stars and Conductor of the Firmament. His domain was the Light and all it encompassed. His Fall corrupted him. Stripped away parts of his very essence. His Father sealed a large part of what made him before throwing him into a dimension so strange and corrupted, it almost overwhelmed his celestial nature.
Technically, he was an Archangel still. But the difference between him and his Siblings was like, well, Night and Day he supposed. To survive in a Realm of Corruption, besieged by creatures wielding Darkness and Fire in ways that left him bereft of his natural resistance, he had to adapt. To draw in the only viable source of Power. He bonded with the corruptive energies that burned and agonised him from the inside out.
His Anathema tried to eat away at him, to use this chance to end his existence once and for all, but he was oh so stubborn. With sheer Willpower, he fought back like a wild beast. He became a madman slaughtering through battlefields at mass while on the inside, an even more destructive war raged. In the end, his stubborn mind prevailed and he earned not just the respect but also the allegiance of the Infernal Dimension.
The price he had to pay was a body so ravaged and broken, it refused to completely heal even with his endless physique. Inevitably, he followed his Father's plans. He conquered the Realm that threatened to consume him and made it his own at the cost of his Purity. Yes, he was an Archangel. But one so deeply warped by the depraved Nature of Hell that he barely shared the same race as his siblings anymore.
When he flippantly reached for his original nature to cleanse the woman and later to create an isolative barrier so that his Presence wouldn't corrupt the surroundings even more than they already were, he noticed the almost casual ease with which he reached his Light. He was prepared to fight tooth and nail to even create this insignificant piece of Enochian Rune-work, but instead, he constructed it without any strain.
The Seal was still there, pulsing deep inside of him like a malignant tumour keeping at bay his essence and former self. A last vestige of his Father's very special brand of parenting. But it was... weak. So weak it was barely noticeable and easily bypassable. He was certain he could do away with it by sneezing at it. He hadn't yet because it was useful at the moment.
Before he could contemplate freeing himself from the fetters his Father 'blessed' him with, he had to first establish an equilibrium to keep both forces at bay without them trying to cannibalise him. The fact that it was possible to rather easily access his original set of powers was a boon far beyond expectation already. He felt far less restricted and the newfound freedom was exhilarating.
This should have been cause for celebrations, and truthfully it was. But at the same time, he couldn't help being pensive about the implications of it all. As joyful as his new circumstances were at first glance, they were just as worrying. Because the only imaginable reasons why this would happen were his Father's demise, which was nigh impossible and especially so without him noticing a thing, or an absolutely ludicrous amount of distance between them.
It was most likely the latter as there were a fair few hints pointing that way. For example, there was an afterlife in existence. That much, he was certain of as he felt the corrupted Soul of Maze's first local victim be judged and assigned before it was pulled into another realm. The force who took it wasn't his dear but estranged sister though. That was a sign that his first thought wasn't the correct one.
Originally, he thought this was merely a slightly out of the way dimension with one of his Father's stranger experiments hidden away and removed from the original afterlife, but now he wasn't so sure anymore. 'This... Might be an alternate Universe. One completely separate from my original one...' The thought was a staggering one in its immensity.
He could slip through dimensions easily enough with the help of his Wings, but an Alternate Universe? The metaphysical distance between those was so large, it was unfathomable to traverse without extremely powerful foci or artefacts. The realisation that he may actually be stranded here was eye-opening and... somewhat anticlimactic.
All this time, he wanted to break free from his Father's Plan. He wanted to forge his own path without interference. And now he seemingly had done just that because he stumbled through a strange portal at a whim? He truly struggled to accept that kind of logic. That wasn't even to mention how different this place was once he looked a bit deeper. Oh, the basic formula was the same, no doubt.
Most of the physics seemed to align and the creatures wandering the earth were mostly the same. But there were very clear differences too. Slight but noticeable deviations in a Soul's makeup. Humans were the same yet not, but that much was fine. They were close enough to the version he knew and their karmic balance was as easily readable as ever. That wasn't the worrying part.
No, the change that gave him some concern was the... passenger of sorts that a few of them had. A secondary shade of an existence that latched onto them through a connection that seemed to lead somewhere not quite in this dimension. The foul man Maze killed was one of them, as was the woman who had driven that thing that was very unlikely to be permitted on the streets.
The most curious case was the delightful military lady they met afterwards however. The passenger was most likely linked to the peculiar abilities they exhibited. That strange something this Skidmark summoned came to his mind. He hadn't seen what the driver could do but it likely had to do with vehicles since she seemed connected with the one she was driving.
The military lady had that strangely sentient energy that seemed to hold an incredibly diluted hint of Creation, drawing his curiosity enough to engage. It was the person wielding this power that ended up intriguing him tough. He never expected her desire to be so pure in a world such as this. Grudgingly, as he had many times already, he admitted that Humanity was a worthy creation.
Not worthy enough to obsess over to the point where his family fell apart and turned into shambles however. To not eradicate the rather pleasant mood he had, he turned his thoughts to more neutral topics.
The masks and obvious codenames made him think not-so-fondly of his home universe. He wasn't involved in that mess overly much, but this whole fetish with Superheroes and Villains was a running theme back there too. Some were out in the open while others hid behind a different identity. It was all the same to him.
While he disliked the concept of an alter ego on principle for the intentional misinformation one spread with it, he did understand the need for it in some cases. He did not lie and his honesty had often become a burden for him. It was nevertheless one of the very few things he wouldn't ever compromise on. He shook off those idle thoughts. There were more important topics to ponder.
Another worrying development for example was that without his Father's presence, many of the rules he enforced didn't actually apply any longer. The most jarring realisation in that regard was that his aggressive actions against the human equivalent of feces back in the alleyway didn't end with him having to endure Soul-searing levels of pain for the mere thought of murder.
The 'restraint' he and his siblings had built in by his Father was simply not present any longer. He had to actively think about following one of the few rules his Father established that he actually agreed with. It was a sobering realisation that made him think deeply. Too deeply, he finally decided.
He forced himself to resurface from the mire of his mind and decided it was time for actions instead of thoughts. He was in an entirely new world. A world that seemed on the precipice of ruin from what little he felt, though it might just be this city as far as he knew.
No matter what he would do in the future, he had to start out humble once more. This wasn't the earth where he was owed favours around the globe. No one here knew him. He wasn't even sure of the state of Christianity as of yet. There was so much to explore and possibly to enjoy. Thoughts of his early outings amongst humanity came to his mind and nostalgia rose in him.
He expressed the sensation with the subtle grin that played on his flawless lips as he flashed Hellfire Eyes at his loyal minion. She was observing him with an expressionless face that slowly shifted as her eyes narrowed dangerously with a knife-edge smirk spreading on her lips when she noticed the mood his undecided mind finally settled on.
He appreciated the darker instincts in her eyes and he knew that the same as him, she could perceive the incredibly potent haze of Sin that threatened to strangle this city. It was just like home for her, he was sure. She already grasped that she would mostly play his enforcer as per usual.
She was rather strong for a Lilim and he trained her in the arts of War not without reason. She was talented and resourceful enough to push through the limits of her existence in record time, which drew his attention and made him hire her into his closer circle. A decision he hadn't come to regret as of yet. With a rumble in his voice, he addressed her.
"Apologies for ignoring you, Mazikeen. I had much to contemplate and got lost in my own head. Let's follow up deep thoughts with momentous deeds, shall we? But first of all, we need to establish a foothold. Even the Devil has to earn what he is due after all."