Chapter Text
“You're kidding? the whole they were just… what? Automatons?” Charlie asked, tilting her head in confusion. She, Vaggie and Emily were walking down one of the main streets of Pentagram city, on their way back to the hotel. On the way, Charlie had been all too eager to spend some more time getting to know her new friend, Emily and asking about recent events in Heaven. It seemed that the young Seraphim was rather dedicated to her own plans for reformation, though she was focused on the Exorcist army instead of sinners.
“Exorcists aren't robots, Charlie” Vaggie sighed. She really wasn't big on discussing her past as one of them, it was still a rough spot between them. Charlie had forgiven her for hiding it, but they still didn't go into the finer details of the topic often.
“Yeah, the uh…. ‘Non-complete’ ones-” Emily quickly glanced at Vaggie to make sure she wasn't being offensive, the former Exorcist just shrugged and seemed to agree that was as good a description as any. “Well, they are alive in every other sense. Flesh and blood, they can eat, drink, talk, think and all that but they don't have a soul. It's kinda hard to articulate, I guess… I dunno. Sentient but not sapient, does that make sense?”
“That's why I didn't feel bad about killing them. None of them even had names” Vaggie added, ignoring the way Emily grimaced as the casual talk of slaughter.
Charlie gave a few thoughtful noises as she wrapped her head around it, absentmindedly tugging Emily to the side so the Seraphim didn't step in a puddle of oddly colored vomit. (For safety's sake, Vaggie had suggested that Emily alter her form to hide her wings, so the girl was walking for once.) Finally, Charlie snapped her fingers as the concept clicked into place.
“They're like Sir Pentious’ Egg boys!” She announced with confidence.
“Oh my gosh, they are!” Emily brought her hands to her mouth with a little gasp.
“Wow. I have never hated an analogy more” Vaggie groaned, rubbing the bridge of her nose.
“Tell me I'm wrong tho” Charlie grinned, and Vaggie just made some unintelligible grumbles. She and Emily shared a good laugh at that. “Well, you seemed confident in being able to change that, how's that coming?”
“Slow, but steady progress. Sera believes it should be possible, but we also have to find a couple people willing to volunteer to… have their souls copied? Still kinda weird, need a better name for it. Then we need to talk to some of the Archangels, see if they'd be willing to take over Leadership of the group. Sera says she still wants the Exorcist battle ready for emergencies, and also maaaaybe doing something about scaring off hellborns from messing with the living… oh, no offense or anything, I'm sure you wouldn't do anything Charlie, it's just we have been getting a lot of weird reports about Imp sightings being linked with human deaths? It's a mess” Emily sighed, she had asked for it, but taking on more responsibility in Heaven was a lot. She was starting to understand why her sister had such bad anxiety. Still, Emily was determined to make it work, she'd rather be a little overworked than ignorant again.
Charlie bit her lip, remembering something about a commercial she had seen a few months back for the ‘Immediate Murder Professionals’. She was debating on whether or not to tell Emily, but thankfully she didn't have to.
An explosion in the distance shook the ground, causing Emily to give an adorable squeak and scramble behind Vaggie to hide. Charlie and Vaggie were pretty used to that kind of thing, this less phased, though they did cast their eyes about to try and find the source.
“W-what was that? I-is hell under attack?” Voice shaking as she peeked out from behind Vaggie, Emily glanced around feverishly. Poor girl wasn't used to violence.
“Probably just a turf war, pretty common, but I don't recall anyone feuding this close to the hotel, not since Cherri and Sir Pentious stopped trying to blow each other up” Vaggie observed. Charlie just shrugged, she'd never payed attention to who owned what territory. Vaggie, being a soldier at heart, had meticulously drawn out a map of the city and kept tabs on who owned what territory, which overlord rules what district, and what the gang drama of the week was. That map had been lost in the hotel’s destruction and Vaggie had been meaning to get around to recreating it.
Another explosion shook the ground, but this time they managed to catch sight of it. No one liked what they saw.
They had just turned a corner and had a glimpse of the hotel, sitting upon its hill in the distance. It should have been a great sight to show off to Emily… instead, the ground shook as a burst of green and black energy flashed into the air.
“Alastor's fighting someone… “ Charlie breathed, a chill running down her spine. This was definitely not good optics for the hotel, but at this distance she couldn't see any damage being done to the building itself. The flashing lights seemed to be concentrated in the courtyard outside the building.
“Who could attack that has Alastor putting out that much power? An overlord?” Vaggie's wings flared out as she prepared to rush ahead, but a third explosion and flash of light caught all of their attention.
A burst of golden energy. Divine magic.
Both Charlie and Vaggie turned on Emily, fearing the worst for a terrible second, but the girl looked just as shocked and confused as they did.
“It's nothing from us, I swear! I put in a lot of work to get a peaceful meeting and Sera was stressing all week about upsetting your dad, neither of us would want to attack you guys” The girl squeaked, holding up her hands to show she was unarmed Vaggie gave her a suspicious squint, but Charlie could see the girl was genuine.
No, something was wrong at the Hotel, and they needed to get there to find out what it was
—
Lute hated playing defense.
Her wings screamed in protest as she put them through the ringer. She sped through the air, having to quickly twist, bank, and dodge volleys of black tendrils as they shot up at her. Not harmful on their own due to her immunity, but each was strong enough to yank her from the sky and slam her painfully into the concrete below. Direct damage from sinners was able to be ignored, but being slammed into and through the environment seemed borderline on what her angelic nature could protect her from. It didn't hurt that much, but it would take an increasing toll on her.
That bastard sinner below seemed to be having a great time. Standing there with his rictus grin and humming to himself. He barely needed to move to conjure up dozens of those black tentacles, and each of them moved with frightening speed and accuracy. The man barely had to put in more effort than following Lute through the air with his eyes.
If only that was all he was doing.
Sinners and their f*cking songs
“Oh little bird,
with a little bill~”
The sinner spoke in a singsong voice, watching Lute pull off evasive manuevers to keep out of his reach. She’d find an opening eventually.
“She landed on
my window sill~”
Lute tiled her wings to bank hard, skirting along the facade of the Hotel, even this sinner seemed to at least not aim directly at the building, but she doubted that would last if she abused it. For the moment it gave her a second of breathing room. She needed to save her energy for a desperate manuever. It would tax her injured body but it was the best she had.
“I lured her in,
with a piece of bread~”
She angled her body and kicked off the wall of the hotel for extra speed. She piled on every inch of speed she could muster, screaming through the air faster than the shadows could reach her. Faster than the sinner could turn his head. It hurt even more to arrest her momentum, slamming her wings against the wind felt like hitting a brick wall, but it was a necessity to take the opening she had. The Axe appeared in her hand as she moved to swing it at the back of The Radio Demon’s head.
“And then I smashed
Her tiny head!”
Her axe swung and the Radio demon’s body broke apart into shadows. She’d been tricked. Something gripped her by the ankle, Lute barely caught a glimpse of the Radio demon’s hand before she was yanked from the air and slammed into the ground with a mighty thud. Her skull cracked against the concrete, rattling her reality for a few unfortunate seconds.
Confused and stunned, Lute didn’t have time to react before she was lifted, swung through the air and slammed into the ground again. Face first this time. Angelic immunity didn’t extend to headbutting concrete. Lute’s brain felt like soup. Every thought had to lurch through a mire of confusion and pain before it could be processed. Not good for fighting. She had to get herself together and remember which limb was which.
Thankfully, whether it had been an intentional part of her creation or not, Lute was a creature of spite and determination. The cackling static tinged laughter of the Radio Demon was enough to get her going, the sheer amusem*nt and mirth in the sound lit a fire in her belly. Lute grabbed her brain and forced it back on the proper tracks through sheer force of will. Digging her angelic claws into the ground for leverage, she yanked her foot out of the sinner’s grip. Before he could react, she pushed both hands against the ground and screamed with effort as she launched her body backwards, kicking both feet into the sinner’s chest and throwing him to the ground.
Lute flapped her wings, pulling her into the air to hover over the fallen sinner. He didn’t seem to find this situation quite as funny, his ever present smile thinning slightly in annoyance. Lute just needed one good hit on him, then he would fold, just like he had with Adam. she pulled her arm back to bring her claws down on him, wanting to end this quickly.
“Not so fast, little bird” The demon hissed, raising his hand. A small spark of black lightning flickered in his hand, before Lute’s vision was eclipsed in darkness. A concentrated beam of dark energy slammed into Lute with the force of a freight train. She had a feeling that a point blank blast of this caliber would have reduced another sinner or lesser hellborn to a fine ash. In her case, the raw energy sent her flying backwards and away from the sinner. Disoriented and confused, Lute couldn’t get her wings in order in time to avoid a crash. Thankfully this time she landed in the somewhat forgiving dirt and grass, her body bouncing twice before gravity let her rest.
A groan escaped her lips, blinking several times as she pulled herself into a sitting position. Looking around herself, she cursed. That blast had thrown her all the way to the opposite end of the hotel. After all the work she put in to close the distance on that sinner. Using her rage to fuel her, she pushed herself to a standing position. Not the easiest thing. She was battered from being thrown around, her leg wound from Nifty had lost her quite a bit of blood, and after all the flying on injured wings she was running towards the edge of what she could force her wings to do. On top of all this, after that blast… her body felt… tingly? Somewhere between a mild sunburn and being dipped in a pool of carbonated water. Looking down at herself, she was surprised to see the state of her uniform. It was still mostly intact, but shredded and burned in more than a few places. The material of the uniform wasn’t full on armor, but it should have been somewhat resistant to demonic attacks. Was the attack that powerful or had the sinners figured out some other way to bypass it?
… was there something wrong with Lute’s angelic immunity? No, no that was impossible. She didn’t need to think about that. She had a demon to slay.
Speaking of which, the Radio demon was approaching her with an annoyingly casual stroll.
“My my, you’re quite tougher than the average Exorcist. I tore apart a few dozen of your sisters without much struggle when you last visited the hotel” he laughed, spinning the angelic dagger through his fingers. Lute squinted, was the demon actually going to skip another round of chasing her down with shadows and fight her head on? “Never did get any nice souvenirs that day, but I suppose you might look good on the ol’ mantlepiece”
“Eat sh*t, Radiohead” Lute growled, summoning the axe to her head. Alastor’s grin thinned, clearly hoping for a higher quality of banter. f*ck him! Lute didn’t exist for his f*cking entertainment!
Roaring, she sprinted forward, swinging the axe in a downward arc. Alastor back stepped the swipe easily, he was dexterous, clever, and had good combat instincts. Lute had seen that in his brief bout with Adam, and battle that had been… somewhat embarrassing for her late leader. Still, this sinner was barely over a hundred years old, Lute had been fighting for nearly 250 years. As the blade went past Alastor towards the ground, Lute tensed every muscle in her body. Stopping the downward momentum of such a large weapon was about as easy as power lifting an elephant, but Lute managed it. Her muscles burned in protest as she reversed the momentum, bringing the axe back skyward. Alastor had attempted to move in and capitalize on the opening made by the first swing, thus was only barely able to pull himself from the path of the second. The blade sang by him, tracing a thin line of red blood along his chest and cleaving his monocle in twain with a satisfying ‘ping’.
Lute felt a smile crawl onto her face as she saw the sinner’s face morph into a twisted grin of fury.
Alastor came at her then, throwing a flurry of slashes with his dagger. It was clear that knife fighting wasn't his usual forte, but what he lacked in refinement he more than compensated for in speed and power. Lute was forced to dismiss the axe, it was simply too large and awkward for such close quarters, instead relying on her prosthetic arm for offense and defense. While the whole arm was made of reinforced metal, only the claws were of Angelic steel, thus anytime she used it to block one of Alastor's slashes, it rent a deep scar into the metal. Her attempts to scratch him were just as futile. The man was impossibly fast and agile, it was rare Lute could even scratch his coat.
Finally, Lute managed to catch his dagger, wrapping her claws around it. The blade bit deep into the palm of her metal hand but she managed to hold it in place. Her arm shook and it's internal mechanics groaned in protest as it was barely able to compete with Alastor’s superior strength. The victory was short-lived.
The radio demon tried a new tactic, stepping in closer so that he and Lute were only inches apart. Before Lute could tell what he was doing, he brought his free hand down and gripped her thigh, making a point to shove his clawed thumb directly into the stab wound Nifty left. Lute screamed in agony, leg spasming erratically as she struggled to remain standing. Alastor seemed to enjoy his newfound way to get around her physical immunity, driving the claw deeper into the wound and twisting it around to tear more screams of pain from his victim. It was a unique form of agony. Every movement stretched and tore at the already damaged muscles, making golden blood seep and spurt out of her leg until it stained the ground below them in a shimmering pool. Torn flesh and nerve endings cried alarms that it took every ounce of willpower to ignore.
“My my, what a delightful sound. Perhaps I could convince you to add your Angelic voice to my radio show?” The sad*stic sinner laughed, his massive yellow stained fangs grinning so hard it seemed to crack the sides of his face. His breath smelled of rotting carrion. Lute's body trembled through the pain, but she held onto her resolve and fury. She'd been through worse. Besides, this is what she had wanted to see wasn't it? A perfect example of the worst of the damned. A reminder of why she existed, why her cause was just. This creature, so cruel and wicked and deranged, could never be redeemed no matter what that damn princess preached.
Her leg was starting to buckle, struggling to hold her weight and the increasing pressure of the Radio Demon pushing down on her. Her shoulder with her prosthetic ached terribly and the arm itself was starting to make strained creaking noises that were surely a bad sign. Desperate to get out of this situation, Lute had to use her head. Literally.
Fingers shaking, her free hand lifted to grip onto Alastor's shoulder. Despite her tortured existence, Lute savored the look of suspicious bewilderment the Sinner had at the gesture.
Then she f*cking headbutted him.
Alastor blinked, Expression stunned and confused. The collision of their skulls had rattled even Lute's brain, her angelic nature making it so she was getting the better end of the exchange, but cracking skulls against the reinforced body of an overlord still felt only slightly better than headbutting a brick wall. Nonetheless, she did it again. And again. And again.
Each blow came with a resounding crack, sending a jolt through both their bodies. Lute could feel her brain bouncing around in her skull and though she was fairly sure this was giving her a concussion, she actually found the numbness it brought to be a blessing. Alastor on the other hand, was not having as good a time. He didn't seem to be as used to physical punishment as Lute had expected an overlord of his caliber. The radio demon’s grip had slackened and he was momentarily stunned by the repeated blows to the head. Good.
Leaning back as much as she could, Lute slammed their heads together a final time, bringing their heads together with all the phenomenal force of two things hitting each other really hard. What? It was hard to think of cool descriptors after five blows to the head, sue her. Alastor fell back, his face stained with a mix of gold and black blood. Since her creation, everyone had told her she was especially hard headed, glad it paid off. Lute held for a few extra seconds, but at last weakness overtook her. Leg buckling, she fell to her knee.
Every inch of her ached. She'd pushed herself to fight five people in a row of increasing difficulty and it had taken its toll. She suspected that if she wasn't an angel, she'd be dead several times over. Taking stock, she mentally reviewed her injuries. The leg wound was priority one, a bad stab wound made worse. Her wings had been damaged by Husk's bomb and the muscles were well past overtaxed. Knife fighting Alastor had done quite the number on her prosthetic, and the fingers twitched a little erratically. Being slammed around into the ground had left her badly bruised but she didn't think anything was broken. Lastly, the headbutting left her with a bloody nose and one hell of a headache.
All this and Lute hadn't killed a single sinner. Why? She'd had opportunities, she knew she had… but she always hesitated, just long enough to let something or someone else stop her. She told herself that was why she was here, to kill Charlie’s friends and send a message to the princess. Yet Lute hadn't delivered. Lute had killed untold thousands of sinners, even other Overlords… So why had this batch given her so much damn trouble? To be fair, they were armed with weapons that could actually hurt her but that wasn't everything. Deep down, there was something gnawing at Lute's core, influencing her, making her hold back … but what was it?
She didn't get a chance to figure it out.
The crackle of radio static filled the air, deep within the sound was the undulating cry of some unknown creature. Lute felt a chill of fear run through her. She looked up to see the Radio Demon had risen and… changed. Her was larger now, his body seeming faint and stretched. His posture was more hunched and bestial, the claws of his hands even larger and more hooked. From his back sprouted four long black tentacles that thrashed and slashed at the ground. His neck seemed broken and twisted at odd angles, a massive set of antlers stood upon his head. But his face was the worst of it. Eyes wide and burning, pupils changed to become radio dials. His smile was terrible and wider than should be possible, yellow fangs seemed to ‘click’ into place and connect in a permanent rictus grin, making his face a frightening parody of an old radio.
“Done catching your breath?” His static grin flashed with light at every word. The sound of radio static intensified and Lute could hear… something else in the noise. Voices. Screaming. Praying. Begging. The sound seemed to come from all around Lute, growing louder and louder. Instinctively, she tried to clutch her hands over hear ears to drown it out, but it didn't help. The Radio Demon gave out a cruel laugh, raising a clawed hand with a dry cracking noise and slamming it to the earth, making the ground rumble and shake. Cracks appearing around his palm, glowing with an ethereal light. “Do you hear them? The voices in the broadcast? My own personal heavenly choir… would you like to meet them?”
A pulse of dark energy make the cracks spread towards Lute, and the ground exploded. Dozens of pairs of hands began to claw their way out of the fissure. Their forms were dark black husks, sinners of all descriptions. Some as small as an imp, others as large as the high Seraphim. Their eyes were empty, hollow. Lute could feel their collective desperation and agony, they craved nothing more than freedom from torment…. Yet they would never have it. They only existed to follow orders. They reached for her, clawed and grabbed at her, desperately trying to pull her down into the earth, into whatever nightmare existence made up Alastor's broadcast.
A terrible fear overtook Lute at first, unable to react at first as the things came at her. Finally, survival kicked in, making her try to shove off her attackers. They came at her from every angle, swarming around her. Every time she managed to pull one set of hands off her, another took its place. She could feel herself being pulled towards that yawning rift. No. No, this is not the death she wanted. It wouldn't even be a death, only an eternity among the ranks of these hollow things. She slashed desperately with her claws, the blessed metal tearing through the blackened flesh around her and finally making some of them back off. Again and again and again she slashed, clearing as many of the things away as she could. Once her wings were free, she spread them and used them to shoot her body upwards.
She couldn't fly away. Her wings protested too much at even an assisted jump. She'd gained breathing room, but the damned below were crawling over each other to reach for her. Another flap sent waves of pain through her body, she didn't have time to think, only to act. She called the axe and held it high. A tug pulled at the core of her being as golden energy shone along the edge of the blade. Lute was not trained in the art of divine magic, she could not use sorcery nor call it in great bursts of power as Adam had. Yet, her nature was divine, that energy fueled her soul and the axe was a conduit for that power. She pushed as much of herself into the blade as she could until it was as radiant as the sun. Closing her wings, gravity brought her down into the squirming mass of the damned.
As the axe touched down, its light erupted. A burst of glowing golden radiance spread from the point of impact and shot skywards in a pillar of pure divine power. The light spread across the hollow creatures and they burned away like paper thrown to a bonfire… yet the cries Lute heard as they burned seemed … relieved? The column of radiance held for another second before dimming and sputtering out. Lute, much like the magic itself, trembled and fell to the ground in an exhausted heap. The magic drained her terribly. She had seen Adam use power on that scale with barely a flick of the wrist, and she appreciates how truly powerful he was. Lute, on the other hand, simply wasn't. She was merely an exorcist, and that was the absolute limit of the power she could wield, even using one of the greatest divine relics in heaven. One blow had almost completely drained her, leaving her body on the edge of total shutdown.
“My my, quite the display. You little angels are full of tricks” oh f*ck, she really should have aimed that at him. A hand roughly grabbed her by the hair and yanked her screaming to eye level with the monster. Every inch of her body felt numb and weak, far too much to retaliate. She tried, at least, to lift her prosthetic hand. It responded to her thoughts, as there were no muscles to exhaust. It was a wasted attempt, The Radio Demon easily caught her wrist, and began to squeeze. He had been strong before, but his power seemed amplified in this form. The metal of her prosthetic groaned in protest before because compacted and crushed with all the effort of someone squeezing an empty soda can. The prosthetic hung now, just as useless as her other arm.
“I'm actually rather impressed, why, I haven't had a challenge like that in years. Riveting entertainment… but I think this show might be coming to a close” Alastor’s grin flashed malevolently. “That being said, I do hate wasting good talent. Hmm, what to do with you?”
“J-just… ki… kill… me… you… f-f*ck” Lute wheezed. She was too weak for any other protest. This was probably how it would have ended no matter what. Deep down she had known that. A solo crusade into hell? What else could she have expected? Even her original plan, to fight Charlie and Vaggie… She knew she couldn't win. Vaggie beat her once already. Even if she did kill Vaggie, it would only enrage Charlie. Charlotte Morningstar, the Princess of Hell. Who had managed to fight Adam on near equal terms. Then, if by some miracle, she succeeded, Lucifer himself would have hunted her to the end of creation. A tiny laugh escaped Lute's lips. It hadn't been a conscious thought, but Lute understood her own actions now. She came down her because she couldn't cope with the way the world was changing around her, so she went on a suicide mission to avoid asking herself any inconvenient questions.
How f*cking pathetic was that?
Alastor laughed as well, but she doubted it was at her self pity.
“Kill you? My dear, I would never waste a talent such as you! Not when I can get so much more entertainment out of you!” The world spun as Alastor threw her to the ground, his foot slamming into her spine with a painful crunch. Lute groaned, confused for a moment before she felt him grab onto one of her wings.
Oh… oh no… he wouldn't-
“You see, I never did get a souvenir from Extermination day and if I'm going to keep you, I need to clip these wings, Little Bird.” Alastor pulled the wing tight in his hand and out of the corner of her eye, Lute saw his draw the blessed dagger. Adrenaline flooded Lute's broken system, trying desperately to restore some functionality to her exhausted and broken body. Her prosthetic was useless, but she tried to kick her leg and claw at the ground to get away. Futile. Alastor only stopped his foot on her spine, pushing her into the ground and making her ribs ache. There was nothing she could do.
In a terrible moment, she recalled the way Vaggie screamed when Lute had done this to her. Lute understood why the other angels looked at her with horror and disgust.
The blade cut into the flesh of her wings, just at the point where it connected to her back. Hissing with pain, Lute felt tears begin to flow from her eyes. The blade worked around the shoulder of the wing, but the cut was surprisingly shallow. Barely more than skin deep… that's when the demon started pulling. A strangled gasping sound left Lute's throat, her body was far beyond managing a proper scream. Lute understood something else now. What she did to Vaggie was vile… but it was also a mercy. Lute had had the kindness to be quick. Alastor didn't.
He pulled and twisted her wing, increasing pressure at an awful gradual pace. Muscles pulled to their breaking point and tendons held on for dear life. The pressure was agony itself, pulling as the small tears made by the blade inch by painful inch. Lute cried out, unable to form coherent thoughts under the weight of the pain. There was only Alastor's laughter, cruel and deranged. Then, with a terrible sucking pop, the bone pulled out of the joint. Lute couldn't scream, only give a choking gasp, her body shaking. Then, the muscles began to rip and tear, tendons snapping like rubber bands pulled to the breaking point. With a sound that would haunt her nightmares, the wing came free, spraying golden blood all around her.
Ripping her own arm off hadn't been as awful. At least then the fallen rubble had broken bone and torn flesh to make it a blessedly quick process. Yet, she had made the mistake of thinking that pulling her arm off was the worst pain she might ever suffer. No. This was worse… and it wasn't over. The blade sank into her other wing and it started all over again. The sharp sting of cut flesh, followed by the horrible, awful pressure.
Lute begged, she cried, she screamed. None of it mattered. If anything, it made the experience better for Alastor. It took another two minutes for mind rending pain before the other wing was torn free in a spray of blood and gore. Lute collapsed, body heaving with desperate pained sobs. Her body was broken, but more than that, she was broken on a fundamental level.
Her wings. He took her wings. Her f*cking wings.
Without her wings, how could she be an Exorcist? Be an angel? A soldier? Be anything? It wasn't fair. She'd done nothing but follow the rules all her life. Done only what she was told. Believed what she was taught to believe. It wasn't her fault that the rules suddenly changed! How was she supposed to live when everything in her life had been a lie? It wasn't her fault! Had she really deserved this? Death she might have been fine with, might have secretly craved… but this? Bent and broken at a sad*stic demon's mercy, who didn't have the goddamn common courtesy to kill her? It seemed too cruel even for her.
Through eyes blurred with tears, she could see Alastor as he stepped away. The sinner hummed lightly, examining his prizes. He turned the wings this way and that, ran his fingers through her feathers and experimentally flexed the dead joints. The bastard was practically planning on how best to mount them on his wall. Lute hurt too much to be pissed.
“Please…” her voice was hoarse from screaming and the word tasted of acid on her tongue, but she was so desperate. “E-end it”
Alastor's ears twitched at her plea, turning to look down at her. He had seemed to relax from his battle frenzy and shrank back to his humanoid form. His expression, ever smiling, seemed amused. He shook his head with a little ‘tsk tsk” as he walked over to Lute and pulled her up by the hair again. Lute had neither the strength nor the will to resist and hung limply in his grip.
“Do pay attention, dear. I did say that I have no intention of letting your talents go to waste. No no no. You are quite the little fighter afterall, I can only imagine what I might be able to do with an Angel's soul at my beck and call.” Alastor's grin grew impossibly cruel, the static rising with his words.
“M-my… soul?” This creature thought she would give him her soul? That she would be willing to trade living for an eternity of servitude to a filthy demon? She may not have her wings or her dignity, but she had her pride damn it. She would never give him that. With all the effort she could muster, she gave him her answer.
She spat on him.
Alastor twitched as the glob of spit and golden blood struck his cheek, his smile thinning in annoyance, but not fading. With his free hand, he pulled a handkerchief from his coat and gently wiped the smudge away.
“Rude. That being said, I know it is a big decision. It would be unfair if I didn't give you some time to consider your options” he snapped, and the ground cracked open beneath Lute, revealing a yawning abyss. Lute could see hundreds of figures crawling along the walls. The blackened hollow souls she fought before. There were legions more in that awful abyss. “Perhaps a decade with the others in the broadcast? Then I can ask you again? And, well, if I don't hear what I like then… we have a long afterlife ahead of us, my dear”
A shiver of fear passed through Lute. She… she didn't know how to react to that. Would she be able to withstand a decade, or decades of constant torture? She saw the pained and hollow looks of those things below, the sheer relief when she burned them away with holy magic. Was that her fate? To suffer until every fragment of her being breaks down and she gives up her soul to escape the pain? She couldn't imagine it. The fissure beckoned, the damned cried out to her, and the radio static hummed. Alastor smiled, seeing her struggle. His eyes turned to radio dials again, looking through the shattered remains of Lute to stare directly at her soul.
“Last chance to change your mind.” He snarled, lowering her an inch closer to the fissure. She wouldn't. She couldn't. She… she…
“I…i-i-” Lute began in a trembling voice, trying to talk around the knot in her throat. This was worse than disobeying the will of heaven, worse than falling, worse than dying…. But…
“ALASTOR!” a furious voice rang out, catching their attention. Alastor let out a bestial growl, pissed at being interrupted, his head snapping around with an unholy crack that made Lute reflexively wince.
A figure marched up the driveway to the hotel with a purposeful stride, eyes glowing and expression hard… holy sh*t. It was Charlie Morningstar. Flying up behind her was Vaggie and… oh sh*t. Emily? What the f*ck was she doing here? The trio had a strange mix of expressions. Emily seemed bewildered, looking from the massive glittering facade of the hotel to the battlefield that had been made of the courtyard and driveway. Poor girl's eyes nearly bugged out of her head when she saw Lute. Vaggie was… hard to read. She seemed furious at first, recognizing Lute and gripping her spear, but as she got closer and saw the state Lute was in, her expression grew strange and her pace slowed to a stop.
Charlie, however, looked like a woman on a mission. She had already shifted to her more demonic form, and there was a smoldering fury in her eyes. It was with great confusion that Lute realized the look was directed at Alastor rather than her.
“Aaaah, Charlie, wonderful timing.” Alastor's expression softened to his usual smile, but he didn't look happy at all. He held up Lute, giving her a little shake that made her groan in pain. “I happened to catch this little bird in the act of assaulting the hotel staff. As your dutiful hotelier, I was simply going about disposing of the trash”
“Did she kill anyone?” Charlie didn't seem placated by Alastor's words, looking from him, to Lute, then past them both. Lute could just barely see out of the corner of her eye that the injured, but very alive staff of the hotel were watching from the entryway to the building.
“She certainly would have, if not for my timely intervention. Now, I do realize that she's made quite a mess, so if you'll just give me a second to finish up, then we can get to work on making repairs” Alastor attempted to wave off Charlie, turning back to Lute and tightening his grip on her hair. Such was the way of things. Lute was weirdly grateful for the extra few seconds of delay, but it hadn't meant much. Charlie had no reason to stop her pet demon. Lute had assaulted her companions and came to kill her. The princess would probably be glad to see her spend an eternity being tortur-
“No.” Charlie said flatly, not backing down from the taller overlord.
“No?” Asked Emily, Vaggie, and Lute in unison, staring at the princess like she was a headless chicken that had done a kick flip.
“... Pardon me?” Alastor's head rotated independently of his body, turning to glare at Charlie, his grin showing clear displeasure.
“I said No, Alastor. She may have attacked the hotel and banged a few people up, but I'm not seeing any indication that she did anything that deserves this!” Charlie barked, gesturing at Lute's bloody body and the abyssal fissure waiting below her. Was… was the princess… defending her?
“Charlie, dear, she's an exorcist. She's killed thousands of your people, tried to kill more today. This is entirely justified”
“So has Vaggie, and frankly, so have you. You don't care, you just want an excuse to add another soul to your collection. I know you aren't here to redeem yourself Alastor… but if you're working for my hotel, then you follow my rules. Which means, no coercing people out of their souls on my property!” Charlie snarled up at the Radio Demon, her hair rising like flames around her. Lute could only stare, dumbstruck. Why was this happening? Why did Charlie care enough to defy this overlord? There had to be some motive. Maybe she just needed an excuse to put the sinner in his place and assert her dominance as princess?
“... What if I called in my favor for you to let me have her?” Alastor's expression was hard to read.
“That's not how that works, our deal was so that no one came to harm” there was hesitation there, Charlie flexing the fingers of her right hand. She had made a deal with this creature?
“Our deal was a favor, at a time of my choosing, where you harm no one. You wouldn't have to do anything, a very easy way out of our bargain.” The Radio Demon seemed to look over even the princess' impressive demonic statue, shadows darkening his face except for his glowing eyes and grinning teeth. Charlie hesitated again, eyes flicking to Lute for a long second. The princess idly rubbed at her neck, for a brief moment Lute swore she could see a collar of green energy around it. After a painful pause, Charlie seemed to regain some confidence and smirk.
“You're bluffing. You wouldn't waste my favor over just one soul” Charlie crossed her arms, glaring up at the Radio Demon.
They held in a staring contest over a pregnant pause… until the Radio Demon gave a barking laugh and relaxed his grip on Lute. The wounded angel gave a scream as she was dropped, fearing that she would fall into the chasm, but instead she crumbled into a heap on the ground harmlessly… well, mostly harmlessly.
“Well done, Charlie, very well done. Just a little test, making sure you can stick to your guns under pressure” laughing still, Alastor stepped around to pat Charlie on the back and give her a proud smile. The princess didn't look entirely convinced of his reasoning, but relaxed her demonic appearance nonetheless. “Very well, Miss Charlie the intruder is all yours. I do think I need to run by the tailor again anyway”
The Radio Demon fingered the cut Lute had made on his jacket for emphasis as she turned, subtly kicking Lute in the ribs as he did so. With that, he strode a few steps to reach down and pick up Lute's torn off wings. Giving a wide smile to everyone, a portal opened beneath his feet, and just like that, he was gone.
“... W-what… the f*ck” Lute wheezed, her body hurt far too much to move, yet she strained to do so anyway. Shivering and shaking, she managed to prop herself up with her good arm, her mangled prosthetic hanging limply. She stared at where Alastor had f*cked off, then turned to look at the princess.
The princess was already kneeling next to Lute, eyes wide with… concern? She looked genuinely concerned about Lute. Lute, who was her enemy. Who tried to kill her. Who killed her pet goat demon. Who attacked her friends and damaged her hotel. The princess tried to reach towards her, but Lute flinched away as much as she could.
“H-how… how can you… look at me like that?” She felt like a wounded animal, afraid to be touched…. Why did compassion seem so much more terrifying than malice?
“Like what? I just want to help, I'm not going to hurt you” Charlie held up both her hands, going out of her way to show she didn't have claws or anything hidden up her sleeve. It would make so much more sense if she did. It would be easier if she did.
“Why… did you… help me?” Grinding out the words, Lute did her best to glare up at the princess. Charlie’s expression turned surprised, then introspective, as if she didn't quite know the answer either. After a few moments, she seemed to come to a conclusion and gave a small nod to herself.
“You looked scared…. Like you needed someone to save you. I just did what felt right” Charlie answered and Lute saw it. In Charlie was a deep and endless well of kindness and compassion, the kind she had never seen even in heaven. A heart that could forgive even the damned and the broken. Even Lute…
Lute just laughed.
She laughed until her ribs ached. She laughed until she cried. Charlie seemed taken back by the response, but allowed Lute time to let it all out, placing a gentle hand on Lute's shoulder.
It was… absolutely insane. It didn't make sense. It might have made sense if Charlie said that *she* wanted Lute's soul. If she wanted to punish Lute. Hell, even if she wanted to make it so Lute was in debt to her. Any of that might have made sense. But no. Because ‘it was the right thing to do’.
This woman was supposed to be the Princess of Hell. Future queen of the damned. Lute was her natural enemy. Lute had never done a single f*cking kind thing to Charlie. She had opposed Charlie at every turn, threatened to kill her, tried to kill her… and Charlie saved her life because it felt right. Lute wanted to chalk it up to simple naivety but the genuine honesty with which Charlie had said it rattled something in Lute.
The straw that broke the camel's back.
Lute’s world was a shattered thing. Everything she had known was a lie.
Adam had taught her that Sinners were trash to be killed… yet one that he personally killed, was redeemed to heaven.
Heaven was supposed to be a symbol of all that was good and right in the world, angels didn't make mistakes… yet the high Seraphim had admitted she was wrong in court.
Sinners were supposed to be evil, hateful and careless…. Yet she had seen them risk their lives to help each other and the hotel they cared about.
The princess of hell was supposed to have every right to hate her… yet Lute owed her life to her now.
Lute was a soldier at heart. She lived by the laws she was given. She did not question, she did not betray those laws… yet she had violated direct orders to run a suicide mission because she was too f*cking scared to face the facts.
“What… the f*ck am I doing” Lute hung her head, struggling to breathe between desperate sobs. She didn't want to do this anymore. She didn't want to have to think. Didn't want to hurt. Didn't want to live a lie. Nothing made sense. The world was wrong. How was she supposed to know what to do.
Charlie gently squeezed her shoulder, making Lute look up at her, see that compassion in her eyes.
Charlie. Charlotte Morningstar. Princess of Hell. Charlie had… rank over Lute. Lute was a soldier, she obeyed the orders of those who outranked her, let them do the thinking. Charlie wasn't technically part of a hierarchy that Lute was involved with, but the broken angel was desperate for a thread to hold latch onto.
“What… do I do? Please… tell me… what to do” shaking and sobbing, Lute begged the princess through tears. Charlie’s eyes widened with surprise, but her expression softened, raising her hand from Lute's shoulder to gently poke Lute in the forehead.
“How about we start with getting some rest?” Charlie suggested, a small glimmer of magic sparking between Lute's forehead and the princess' finger. Immediately a soothing numbness flowed over Lute's body and filled every inch of her being. Her strength left her, and blessed sleep overtook the broken angel.
