Chapter Text
Lute glared ahead on a bed. At this point, it was all she could do: sit there and stew in self-pity and masochistic hatred at what she had become… at what she had made of herself.
Every time she closed her eyes, it was the same harrowing flood of memories. Adam’s face as he died, the looks of once-fellow Angels glaring in scorn at her and her fellow Exorcists for the truth of the Exterminations being out in the open. But the worst of it came from her own comrades, her battle-sisters.
Failure.
No better than the scum we execute.
These words ingrained themselves within Lute’s very essence, she knew she was a failure and couldn’t do anything about it. So why… why was she shown kindness upon her fall? By HER…?!
Charlie stood nearby, leaning into Lute’s line of sight with a soft smile. “Heyyy…” she said with a hesitant wave.
Lute’s eyes didn’t even flick to meet the princess’s gaze.
“Yup.”
Charlie seated herself on the edge of the bed. Ever since the hotel's reconstruction and refurbishment, it received a significant upgrade due to Lucifer now taking up residence… in the basement of all places. Most likely to get as far away from Alastor and his radio tower with the bonus of extra storage space for his obscene rubber duck collection. New beds, new wallpaper, even flatscreens connected to the other Rings far out of VoxTek influence. Lute knew it was to piss off the radio demon with modern tech despite Lucifer’s own opinion of television, but she never said it out loud.
“It’s been over a month and a half, Lute… maybe you should try to participate in some of my workshops?” Charlie pleaded. “We’re doing art therapy tomorrow.”
The angel’s eyes squinted and finally met Charlie’s with a face that said ‘Are you fucking serious?’.
“Oh sure,” she responded sarcastically before switching to a mocking jovial tone with a swing of her remaining arm, “Lemme just waltz on in and say ‘Hey guys! Sorry bout that whole genocide, we’re cool, right? Hand me that red crayon!’” Lute tossed over in the bed, trying to cover herself, to hide the tears welling up in her eyes. “Do us all a favor and let me fucking rot…”
Charlie’s eyes widened, averting her gaze as she was met face-to-face with stumps instead of wings. No matter how often she saw them, it was uncomfortable. Vaggie had that treatment easier if one could believe it. Lute’s were twisted, pulled, bent, and eventually torn off.
Not seeing much she could do, Charlie sighed, nodding. “Alright, just, please think about it a little more.” The princess walked to the door, pausing to look back at the angel still huddled in her misery. “There’s always a place for you here, even if you don’t believe it.”
Vaggie stood sentinel outside, her arms folded over her chest as she saw Charlie exit Lute’s room.
“Any luck?” she whispered. Charlie’s face said it all, no dice.
Charlie sniffled, trying not to cry. “I just don’t know what to do… I know Hell’s full of souls who’ve been victims of what Lute’s been through but it’s never easy to address and even harder to help with…”
The princess felt gentle hands cup her cheeks, lifting her gaze to meet her girlfriend’s. “She’ll come to us when she’s ready. I needed time myself after ‘falling’. She may seem all pride and whatever, but she will come around… I hope…” The uncertainty in Vaggie’s voice didn’t put Charlie at as much ease as she hoped.
Vaggie hated Lute, that was no secret, the two had shared a history of working for the same asshole. Razzle hated Lute because she was the reason his twin Dazzle was dead, immortalized as a golden statue alongside a portrait of Sir Pentious in the lobby. Everyone in the hotel save for perhaps Lucifer and Niffty hated Lute on a personal level. Even Charlie wasn’t all that fond of the fallen angel sulking in the room at the end of the hall, but someone had to look out for her well-being, even if it earned her some level of scrutiny on the first day.
Charlie reached up, taking hold of Vaggie’s hands with a small smile, leaning forward to peck her on the lips. “I just hope my message to Emily gets through, Heaven’s bureaucracy is still in shambles after Adam died last I heard.”
“Well, you know… Angels and their paperwork, they love it,” Vaggie chuckled.
Niffty scuttled on by, holding a tray of food. The diminutive maid stopped at Lute’s door, delivering a series of knocks like a code. It seemed like Alastor had cooked Jumbalaya for dinner; the aroma was frankly enchanting. The bowl on the tray swung precariously back and forth, never quite tipping over.
The door creaked open as the couple watched Lute take her tray without a word, pausing to meet Vaggie’s gaze before looking away and letting the door click shut.
“She’s been crying,” Niffty commented, pointing to her eye with a slightly manic grin as she slunk by the two ladies, “Redder than last time! She misses her bad boy!” she continued with a sing-song voice as she vanished around the corner.
“WRONG, YOU FUCKING GOBLIN!” Lute roared from behind the door.
Charlie and Vaggie exchanged a look, they knew they had to get to the bottom of this one way or another.
In the lobby, Husk was nursing a recent hangover, pouring a drink for Angel Dust and Cherri Bomb. They collectively froze at Lute’s outburst.
The first to speak was Cherri, with a sly whistle, “This bird’s touchy.”
“After the shit she went through, I'd be more concerned if she wasn't,” Husk commented, taking a swig from the nearly-empty bottle he poured earlier.
“Remind me, what did she go through?” the cyclopean demon asked, sipping her glass. “Had some shit to do in the Doomsday District so I’m not up to speed.”
“Turf war?” Angel asked.
“Nah,” Cherri chuckled, “I’m movin’ into this place, just had to pick up some nicknacks and clothes from my flat.”
Angel nudged Cherri with a laugh. “HAH! Took ya long enough to come around, sugar tits! What changed your mind?”
Cherri stared down at her glass, seeing her reflection in the amber liquid. Her expression hardened when she looked up and turned around to look at the memorial portrait of Sir Pentious. “A promise to myself,” she replied, giving the portrait a salute before throwing the glass back in a single gulp. “So, about Lute?”
Husk leaned against the counter, attempting to recall from memory what Lute said during the one and only group session she attended. “Exterminations became public knowledge in Heaven, shit went south real quick,” Husk explained, “I don’t know the finer details, but our new fallen angel got given the reverse purple nurple from Hell on her wings while getting beaten and tortured by her former comrades. Something about failing to protect Adam. The only extra grain of knowledge on this I know is she wasn’t officially kicked out, kinda like Vaggie.” He finished his short explanation with a final swig of the bottle.
Angel Dust cleared his throat as if hesitant to ask. “When you say torture…?”
“The same kind of shit you deal with Valentino, only with no safety,” Husk quickly replied with a deadpan expression.
Both patrons at the bar cringed, an uncomfortable hissing inhale coming between Angel Dust’s teeth.
“Wait, if the Exterminations are public knowledge with the goody-two-shoes souls now, doesn’t that mean they’re most likely on hold for now? That clock tower stopped counting down for a good while now,” Cherri said, putting two and two together with an excited tone.
Husk smirked, raising his empty bottle, “Yep, seems that way.”
“Fuck yeah! No more pigdeon wankers!” Cherri cheered, awkwardly noticing Vaggie when she appeared with Charlie nearby. “Ahem… present company excluded of course,” she quickly added with a sheepish grin and shrug.
“How’s our shut-in?” Husk asked Charlie.
“The usual, grumpy, and hard on herself,” she sighed, seating herself at the bar. “One Strawberry Coconut Daiquiri, please.”
Angel held back on making a sex pun at the ‘hard’, earning a preemptive disapproving scowl from Vaggie who eased when the spider demon said nothing.
Husk nodded, preparing the ingredients for Charlie’s special order drink.
“Dang, shit’s got you that down you need the fav drink, dollface?” Angel whistled, resting his head on his right set of arms.
Razzle hovered down from his perch on the golden statue of his brother, huffing as he landed on the edge of the bar counter. He half-scowled and half-worriedly stared at Charlie. He was still rather bitter about Lute being allowed to stay, but he had to swallow his pride to reassure Charlie in his own way that she was doing the right thing.
“Thanks Razzle…” Charlie smiled, giving the draconic lamb a short cuddle. “I just hope Emily gets my message. It must be chaos up there.”
Meanwhile…
Sera sat across from Sir Pentious at a glass table, taking a slow sip from a cup of tea. The snake sinner-turned-angel copied her out of courtesy. “Excellent tea, Miss Sera,” he complimented nervously, his serpentine lisp prominent.
Sera’s private residence was opulent but simple in function. The dining room was directly connected to a small kitchenette, with a grand door leading out into the main foyer. A window spanning the length of the table oversaw a sparkling city settling into night. The glittering lights of the nightlife made Pentious feel homesick, reminding him of Pentagram City from above in his airship before meeting Charlie. What he wouldn’t give to see it all again…
Since arriving in Heaven he has made quite a name for himself, though understandably he was… detained for his own safety. The accommodations were to his liking, yet he was itching to know if everyone down in Hell was okay. “You like it? My own special blend,” Sera responded cooly, placing her cup down.
A silence grew, and Pentious fidgeted in his chair. “So… why can’t I call Miss Charlie?”
“We’ve been over this,” Sera said with exasperation, placing a hand over her forehead. “We need to be absolutely certain you have actually been redeemed.”
“What difference does it make?”
Sera opened her mouth to answer but paused. Her wings tightened against her body. Pentious had a point, if he wasn’t truly redeemed, he would probably just be sent back down. And if he was, he would have more autonomy in Heaven amongst the mortal souls hailed as a pioneer, being able to contact Hell through his reputation alone. “For your own safety,” Sera answered honestly. “Ever since Adam’s death and you showing up, we’ve had to make an announcement, and… Heaven’s been in a bit of an uproar. The Exorcists have been disbanded, and... I’m sure you can connect the dots as to why you must remain here until further notice.”
Pentious slouched back in his seat, gripping the edge, staring at his fingertips. The disbanded Exorcists see him as an abomination and those bloodthirsty warriors won’t be merciful if they got him alone. “I… see…”
“If it helps, I have arranged for someone to be your guide and protector in Heaven as a trial period.” Sera stood, the chair sliding back without so much as a scrape. “Well, two guides to be extra safe.”
Pentious looked up as the seraphim walked past, his hood flaring out with restrained excitement. “Who?” His hat was displaying his bubbling excitement fully.
Sera gave a wry smile, not wanting to ruin the surprise. “You’ll see, trust me it was a surprise for me too when Emily introduced them.” Behind the smile, Pentious could see a millennia of regret weighing it down. Sera was barely holding it together, having allowed The Exterminations this long, and it was taking a massive mental toll. “Get some rest, Sir Pentious. It’s going to be a… long day tomorrow…” Sera spoke with a shudder, increasing her pace to leave the room.
“Of course… Miss Sera… pleasant dreams.”
Sera paused in the doorway, her shoulders slumped and her wings drooped. “Thank you,” she whispered, closing the door behind her.
The fallen angel opened her eyes, the empty bowl of jambalaya on the bedside table. She turned over, glaring at the broken horned mask of her former position resting on the bedside table opposite as if it were mocking her with that stitched smile peering back. Her broken sword was unceremoniously sticking out the gaping crack of the mask like a self-loathing sheathe. The plastic brick of a digital clock read 3 AM.
With a sigh, she laid on her belly to avoid agitating her wing stumps.
“So, what’s it gonna be?” A voice echoed, her own voice. It startled Lute at first, but when she saw her own reflection smirking back in the body-length mirror inside the ajar closet she knew it was going to be one of ‘those nights’. The doppelganger was in full uniform, mask and all.
Lute groaned, gripping her head. “Please… shut up…”
“Not a fucking chance, weakling,” Lute(?) snarked, crossing her legs after scooching to the edge of the bed.
"Shut the fuck up...!" she croaked out, reaching out to grab her mask by the horn, instinctively doing so with her missing left arm. This only made Lute scream as she swiped the mask with her right arm, sending it slamming into the far wall, narrowly missing the flatscreen TV facing the foot of her bed and landing on its side on the dresser still facing her.
Her reflection gave a mock pity pout. “You fuck up this badly, and worst yet you accept their pity? Their hospitality? Worse yet you actually enjoyed that slop they call food.”
Lute whimpered, shutting her eyes slightly. “P-Please…” she whined uncharacteristically.
“You know what must be done.” Lute(?) was pressing her hand against the mirror.
“No…”
The pommel of Lute’s old sword cracked against the mirror, the damage repairing itself. Lute stifled a grunt, her vision shaking as if the pommel was striking her very skull.
“Wrong answer. What must be done?” Lute(?) growled.
“Yeah… what must be done?” a familiar voice graced Lute’s ears. “Kinda obvious ain’t it, danger-tits?”
Behind Lute’s mirror image, she saw Adam… a bleeding hole in his chest and his mask gone, revealing his pale complexion from blood loss. Lute(?) stepped out of the way.
“Sir… I’m sorry…!” Lute choked out.
Adam(?) nonchalantly inspected the gloves of his outfit as if checking his nails. “Sorry doesn’t put the cunts out of Heaven’s misery, babe. Also, you know, doesn’t fix this.” He gestured to the bleeding hole. “Ain’t that right, girls?”
Lute’s eyes widened as Exorcists in various states of decay and fatal damage emerged from behind Adam(?)’s flared wings with his arms stretched wide. All of them perished in the failed siege against the hotel, now most likely Cannibal Town’s latest barbecue. “Just hallucinations… just hallucinations…” she tried reassuring herself.
As if out of a horror movie, the deceased Exorcists began spilling out of the mirror after the boundary between shattered, clamoring over one another before Adam(?) and Lute(?) followed, stepping over or on top of the writhing mass.
One of the deceased Exorcists lumbered close. “This a hallucination to you?” She lifted her mask, exposing a skull with rotten muscle and sinew barely clinging to it, a single rolling eye glaring wildly. The stench, oh dear God the stench… Lute’s mirror self held the blade of her sword against her throat, the stitched grin growing impossibly wide.
“You know what you need to do,” they all said in unison, chanting it repeatedly, closing in while the blade began to press harder.
Lute closed her eyes, her own pleading drowned out by the chorus for retribution from her own splintering psyche. Her eyes shut tighter, awaiting her the moment her head would be cleaved, but it never came.
Hesitantly, the fallen angel opened her eyes, it was just her now… her and her broken sword held against her own throat. Gasping for air, her arm fell limp. She stared at the reflective edge, wanting to discard the accursed thing but… she knew what she had to do.
Whatever it took to make the voices and visions go away.
Dressed in just a loosely fitting white t-shirt and her undergarments, Lute slunk out of her room, blade in hand with wide, spellbound eyes.
Taking shuffling steps she followed the signs towards the stairwell, checking where the laundry room was. Ground level… well, no shit. She hobbled down the stairs, not wanting to bring too much attention through the elevator. Lute shivered, constantly looking over her shoulder, praying no one would see her or worse her visions intervening.
In the short few times Lute had left her room in the middle of the night for air and no social interactions, she had scoped out everyone’s routines. One of the benefits of a military career after all.
Charlie and Vaggie rarely stayed up past midnight on a good day, Angel Dust was working for that bald moth with consent issues, Husk was out drunk behind his bar and Razzle slept at the foot of the princess’s bed. The only wild cards were Cherri Bomb, Lucifer, and Alastor so she would need to pray for luck from the powers that be that allowed this fate to befall her. The focus of her night, however, was that damnable maid, Niffty, thankfully kept to a simple routine; Clean, cook, free time, clean, cook, free time then sleep.
Lute’s bare feet padded against the reflective floor of the main lobby, pausing to ensure Husk was snoring as she passed by his bar. She caught sight of a bottle of beer just sitting on the counter with a note stuck to it. The angel’s brow furrowed, picking up the bottle to inspect the note after placing her sword on a nearby stool.
Hey, I know about your late-night walks or whatever. If it helps, a drink on the house if you ever pass by. Not like I fuckin’ charge for them anyway but you look like you could use some kinda vice.
-Husker
Lute scowled at the note, then crumpled it. More pity… more fucking pity. She was an angel! One of the mightiest soldiers of Heaven! She did not need pity! She… was… an angel…
Pursing her lips, she stuck the bottle under what was left of her other arm to tear the cap off, chugging the bottle in a few gulps. It burned going down, it could have been poisoned but Lute did not care. The stinging of the carbonation caused her eyes to water, like drinking a freshly opened bottle of soda.
After emptying the bottle she gasped softly as the warm sensation of the alcohol spread through her body, placing the bottle back down on the counter before grasping the handle of her sword. Back to the mission.
It wasn’t long before Lute found the laundry room, the golden plate said as much. She gave the door a gentle push and it slowly creaked open. Unlocked. Taking a step in she saw her target… laying amongst the laundry like a fucking nest fast asleep. This was too easy.
Lute grit her teeth, stepping forward while switching to a backward grip for stabbing she raises her sword higher with each step. Just as she loomed over the diminutive maid she paused, one piece of laundry catching her eye on a drying rack.
Her old uniform…
It looked repaired, almost brand new even with the materials they had on hand. Why would they repair such a symbol of fear for her? It made no sense, why this small kindness? Why the hospitality and all this bullshit for a monster like her?
“Well? What’s keeping you?” Lute’s own voice rattled.
Lute shook her head, whispering. “No… I can’t, I hate this… thing with every fiber of my being but I can’t.”
Lute(?) groaned. “Allow me, weakling.”
A pair of different hands grasped Lute’s wrist, attempting to guide her strike. Her mirror self was just in the corner of her vision, now without the mask, grinning with bloodlust in her eyes. On the other side of her head was Adam, also grinning. Their mouths never moved, but she could hear them speaking in perfect synchronicity.
“Kill,” they chanted.
“No…”
“Kill!” they demanded.
“I can’t…”
“Kill!!!” they screeched.
“Please..” KILL! “I don’t…” KILL! “I… KILL! “I…”
“KILL THE SINNER!!!”
The hotel shook with a shrill shriek. Lute had tugged her wrist away from the hallucinations, plunging the blade into her own belly, stabbing viciously over and over. Niffty was startled awake, practically leaping onto a nearby washing machine as all the lights turned on and every door swung open with a chorus of slams. The hotel itself awoke in a panic.
“I WON’T… I WON’T!” Lute kept screeching as golden ichor spilled from her wounds. “GET OUT OF MY FUCKING HEAD!”
Niffty stared with a mixture of shock and mild annoyance that her clean laundry was getting blood splattered all over it. "My laundry!" she whined.
Charlie and Vaggie were first to appear in the doorway, the princess gasping with her hands clasped to her mouth while Vaggie took the initiative to tackle Lute and keep the angel from aiming the blade at her own throat. Lute’s struggles were short-lived as she devolved into pained sobbing and wailing, her sword clattering to the ground. “Failure…” she cried out. “I’m sorry, sir…!”
Husk and Cherri soon peeked around the doorway, the punky cyclops holding Fat Nuggets while Angel Dust was at the studio. She took one look at the mess and swung around, covering the demon piglet’s eyes. “Fuckin’ fuck!”
“Husk! Get the first-aid kit!” Charlie pleaded, that was the last thing Lute heard before passing out from the pain.
Angel Dust groaned, stretching his back which cracked in various places. Bondage night… fun… “Are we done, tonight…?” He shuddered, quickly adding, “Daddy?”
Valentino glowered from his director’s chair, staring his most prized porn star down. He smirked at Angel quickly amending his question as the spider sat on the heart-shaped bed. The moth-like overlord took a long drag from his cigarette, exhaling a plume of pink smoke that stretched like tendrils. “Yes, though I expect you to be more enthusiastic in your struggling next time,” he playfully chided with that smug smirk that sent shivers of disgust up Angel's spine.
“Of course, daddy…” Angel sighed. “You’re the boss.”
The spider demon slunk out of the bed, putting on his boots as he did while strolling to his make-up room to get dressed for the walk back to the hotel. His phone was on his vanity dresser, vibrating wildly from several texts and a few missed calls. Arching an eyebrow he picked up the phone with his bottom set of arms while adjusting his hair with the top pair.
The texts were mostly from Cherri Bomb with a few from Charlie—something about Lute ‘goin’ bonkers’.
Angel tapped on the screen to call back with a video call, it didn’t even ring once before it was picked up.
“Shit hit the fan,” Cherri started off, “Lute snuck out of her room to kill Niffty but ended up goin’ fuckin mental and stabbin’ herself!”
“...What?” Angel could hardly believe what he was hearing. “And we let Lute keep her sword why?!” was all he could ask.
Cherri shrugged. “Fuck if I know, her wounds healed, so… guess that sword ain’t really Angelic Steel? I mean, if Vaggie can get her wings back after havin’ them cut by the same thing-” She paused, considering the possibilities, but that came second.
“Is she okay?” Angel finished tidying his hair, now getting dressed after placing his phone against the vanity mirror. “And Niffty’s okay too, right?”
“More or less, we had to cuff the mad pigeon’s limbs to the bedposts until she stopped having a fit. Now we’ve gone from that to stern supervision from Charle and Vaggie. Speaking of… sorry, we had to borrow some of your fuzzy cuffs so she wouldn’t hurt herself. Niff’s alright, she considered an attempted murder a romantic gesture but she wasn’t interested.”
“I’m not into women!” Niffty chirped from out of view.
“It’s no problem, sugar-tits.” Angel waved it off with a slightly amused smile at the thought of Lute using his gear and the mixed messages from the maid’s point of view. “Alright, I’ll be at the hotel in less than an hour. Thanks for taking care of my precious Baby Nuggs for me, by the way.” Angel waved at the piglet lying on Cherri’s lap. Nuggets snorted a little before cheerfully squealing, waving his small hoof. Angel hung up, adjusting his shirt to press his chest up. “Hm, yup, lookin’ good.” Giving himself a finger gun salute with four hands he opened the door to his dressing room, his breath catching in his throat as Valentino was standing there, blocking the doorway.
“You forgot this,” Valentino said, holding up a pair of pink fuzzy cuffs Angel brought from the hotel. His voice was sickly sweet, piling on the charm. “Wouldn’t want to mix up your best gear with the rest, hmm?”
“Uhm… thanks.” Angel Dust hesitantly took the cuffs, slipping around his boss before leaving the studio, mouthing ‘what the fuck’.
As Valentino watched his special toy leave, his grin widened. He had heard the phone call. A fallen angel? And this one is in a vulnerable mental state, no less. The name Lute rang a bell. Flipping up a bedazzled phone, he placed it to his ear, calling Velvette. Oh, did he have a story for her…