Location: The Envy Room
Date: 2am, March 26th, 2017
Availability: General Awareness / Closed
Lucifer heard screams—the one thing he had not wanted to hear tonight, especially the sort that were not orgasmic—and went running toward the source. He had been on the grounds outside, but his limited omnipotent abilities had his senses tingling even when those outside would have barely heard. Perhaps it was uncouth to run in a designer suit, but those sorts of concerns weren’t Lucifer’s. He didn’t care if he ruined his suit—there were more to be had—but he did care about whatever had set the party awry. If only he was able to teleport, as he once had been able to do, perhaps much of the future could have been avoided. Yet, it was not to be.
He made it in time to see some of the horror unfold, the double-sided mirrors reversed with lights, the revellers in the rooms baring witness to a mad dog disemboweling Virtue. He shook his head in disappointment: he’d done everything he could to keep Satan contented and ensured he hadn’t drank Furia, and yet, Satan clearly couldn’t be trusted in even the most vague sense of the phrase in public. In Hell, Satan was an asset. On Earth... less so. Once, Satan had sworn he could keep himself in check, could do what was asked of him, but that seemed to be a series of lies or machinations. It was for the best this happened in Vegas, where things could be handled swiftly as their due.
Lucifer cursed in his head, his normally suave and genteel expression darkening into a shade of what he looked like when made angry, when made forceful. When his eyes got this hellfire into them, the demons knew to cower—it was rare enough. The kind of rarity that linked this expression with punishment, with retribution, with a rebel King’s utter displeasure. He knew he would never get Satan to understand the simple logic of how to open the door, so he just ripped it open with a hand gesture, not wanting to delay with subtleties. He didn’t use such measures unless necessary, another note to underscore his feelings on the matter. Watching Satan caged and pacing had its own allure, but would not suffice as punishment.
Lucifer maintained his composure: a host out of sorts led only to panic. With his mind, Lucifer pinned Satan against one of the mirrored walls to keep him in place; everyone could see he was contained. Then, Lucifer flipped the switch, again changing the mirrors so that the carnage would not be seen. Telepathically, he sent to his revellers: “This is under control. Satan will be punished. A funeral will be arranged for Virtue, date March 28th, in Los Angeles with no expense spared and our deepest condolences. If you need me, I will be in the Envy room, tending to the wounded. Our sincerest apologies.”
With that out of the way, Lucifer’s gaze locked on Satan’s. “You literally aren't important enough for me to deal with right now,” he said, his voice composed, cold, and flat, when it would normally be warm and inviting. “I have to clean up your mess.” Lucifer picked up the knife that Satan had clearly used and tsked: “We confiscated all weapons prior to the party. Your insolence has been noted.” Then he shoved Satan’s knife into the soft part right below Satan’s sternum and twisted. “You will report directly to Levi.” Lucifer narrowed his eyes, and then patted Satan on the cheek like a petulant child, twice, and a little too hard. “Blink the wrong way,” he said in the same, matter-of-fact tone as if giving a progress report, “and I will kill you in a way you haven’t even begun to dream of considering. There are things worse than death.”
Lucifer sent out the mental call to Levi to retrieve Satan from the wall. With that, the concierge medics arrived to tend to Zoe’s wounds and help Lucifer take care of the body. He was little and less concerned with the state of the room—he’d seal it up after—but he cared about the respect due the late founder of the Church of Saints.
