16596/A Different Kind of Prison

A Different Kind of Prison
Date of Scene:	29 October 2024
Location:	The Crossroads, Nowhere USA
Synopsis:	Lucifer goes to the Crossroads to make a deal...which doesn't go at all like he planned.
Cast of Characters:	Lucifer, Phantasm (Drago), Sinister

---

Lucifer has posed:
This isn't a place where the feint of heart come for a getaway. In fact, there's no destination more avoided than this one - unless someone has a purpose. Normally, it's another who comes here. Who calls the Devil. Who makes a deal.

This time, it's the Devil coming to the one place he figures could be considered neutral ground. With the skeleton that Asrael brought back from the prison laying in the center. Lucifer returns the rings to the precise fingers he took then from. Then he looks to Nick. "I don't know if this will work. I figure we give it about half an hour. If he doesn't show... we'll just go back home." Offering this much to at least give some sort of half-assed plan since all this is being thought up off the top of his head.

Or better yet, pulled out his ass.

Phantasm (Drago) has posed:
Nick doesn't normally come here. It is only his second time here but the first time he was actually invited.

Honestly, last time was a blur with that darn key thing. With the more leisurely wait associated this time around. Nick has time to take a look around. And by look around we mean, stay in the same spot and turn the head.

Not getting lost here.

Nope.

Nuh-uh.

Lucifer has posed:
There's not really much to look at. Four old, dusty roads that stretch out far as the eye can see in every cardinal direction. The middle is a circle - like a roundabout without the about - and where there isn't road there's field. The sky's a bit of a brown-grey color, and it never seems to not be this way. Like the sun doesn't know where it's going and clouds sort of linger with the threat of rain that never falls.

"Don't worry, Nick. You aren't going to get lost. I mean unless you decide to begin running in any random direction...I can't help you if you do a crazy thing like that..."

Phantasm (Drago) has posed:
"I assure you that I have no intention of doing that." Nick replies, looking to the bleak scenery before looking back to the Devil. "Do the roads actually lead anywhere?"

Sinister has posed:
So there's a skeleton right there. A disturbing sight not for its material, but probably for its fundamental.

It's almost a full half an hour before the sky darkens and the clouds seem to get filled with a residual smoke. Lightning crackles in a sheet across the westward crossroad, before it arcs down and zaps a wizzened tree. Unlike fire, this one smolders like it got sucked into a volcano, the ash lingering into the air smelling quite, quite foul.

Out of that ash, a shape billows tall, the yellow eyes appearing in the smoke and charred remains, drifting closer. They look to the skeletal remains, to the two that stand here and there's a zigzag of scorched-earth aftermath that crackles across the smoke.

"You had better not have any salt or kindling in your bag of tricks, Samael." The voice is deep and raspy, as one would expect. "Kiddo." To Nick.

Lucifer has posed:
"You know... I actually don't know. And now I wonder if they do... or... and this may be the weird in me talking...but I wonder if you walk far enough down one, you'll come up the other. So they just loop around and connect to themselves..." Lucifer speaks this to Nick just before the light show begins.

He watches the moment as it happens. All the theatrics just to be a charred remain with yellow eyes. He follows the gaze to the skeleton and then looks back to the form. This is when he holds up his hands in surrender. "No bags this time, Azazel. Of tricks or otherwise. I truly just want to talk. You left so suddenly last time...you wouldn't even let me gather my thoughts." His hands drop down to his sides then, but specifically remain out of any pockets he might have in those blue jeans he wears.

"How's freedom been?"

Phantasm (Drago) has posed:
"That last one would be kind of funny. Maybe that's something to look into later when things are cal-"

As the scenery shifts, Nick watches attentively. Considering the theatrics Silver Round had been known for doing, the general feel the performer gets is that of a stage show. Pyrotechnics, smoke effects, lighting... a familiar package. But the overall story behind this display is a bit more heavy.

Nick scrunches his nose a bit as the scent wafts in, having to allow a moment to adjust to the change before his expression settles down.

As Azazel calls out to him, Nick nods to the cloud. "Hey Bobby." He replies, sticking with the name that got settled on last time they spoke. He gives a slight smile to the cloud.

Told you.

Sinister has posed:
Small observation to be made, when not in 'possession' the yellow eyes have that hour-glass pupil of a goat in thier centres.

"I don't know. It's been fraught, like it always was right up until they caught me the first time. Some reason or another, they -really- didn't want me out and about. Go figure." A thing that Lucifer and his lieutennant have in common, no doubt about that at all.

But there's still the power of a Name.

The demon of smoke and ashes laughs a low chuckle, whirling through several shapes, scales showing, a writhing ball of serpents, the fetid scent of vultures and carrion eaters, fourteen faces in the cloud that pop out, none of them strictly human, a flurry of six wings -- which is a strangeness, for he was not a seraphim when he walked the path of light and then...

Faded black denim, leather jacket, wifebeater and the look of a weather-beaten biker with yellow eyes. He's old looking for an angel, with silver streaks in his hair, tied back, black as night, in a pony tail. And he actually sports -scars-. Many of them, all of them old. Rings adorn his fingers, silver earrings with little goat skulls and a pendant to match.

"So talk."

Lucifer has posed:
"Nothing fancy. I'm not going to hash out the past with you because that's what it is. The past." In some ways any how. For Azazel it's also a very near present. "You're free now...and I do not want you to lose your freedom. It's a fight I've had myself, and I wouldn't wish it upon any of us. But there has to be terms, Azazel. Limits. You can't just go around possessing bodies and harming them in your wake. Our existence is possible, but it has to be....subtle. With a few.." He waves a hand in the air. "Grandations."

There's a glance to Nick, however, as the name 'Bobby' finally hits him and he raises a brow but asks nothing. "So, name your terms. You want to be among the humans? Existing outside of that cave? We can make an argument for it. I won't necessarily say that you'd have to have terms of behaving but...well...even I have limitations even if I wear my existence proudly. Despite those who would choose to not believe I am who I say I am without viable proof."

There's a tilt of his head the other direction as he looks the form over. "Nice look."

Phantasm (Drago) has posed:
As the form settles on one that doesn't produce an odor, Nick takes a moment to look to the settled form.

Getting a look from Lucifer, he shrugs, "He said I could call him whatever I wanted. I went with that."

As Lucifer's comment regarding appearance hits, Nick nods in agreement. "You look like you're ready to party at Sturgis."

Sinister has posed:
"Seemed appropriate. Hell's Angels," Azazel smirks, folding his arms across his broad chest. This one is /built/ where many of the other angels seem 'aesthetic' in so many ways. Az was not built on Avogadro's magic number in the same way.

He looks to Nick again, smirks once more, then gives a long, slow exhale as he stares at Lucifer.

"When did you get all moral high horse, anyhow?" he asks, but it does sound somewhat amused. "You can make that kind of a deal though? Somehow, I don't think you can. Not without getting all -them- on board..." he jerks his head to the sky "...so really, all you can deal for, is yourself and your Lilim. But..." he shrugs his shoulders, cracks his neck "...I don't -got- to hurt'm. I don't -got- to do anything. I ain't bound by words and laws and honours and determinations. Not since they did what they did to me, Samael."

Lucifer has posed:
"The only one I absolutely cannot get through to is Michael. Obviously. And it's not that I'm all moral high horse now... it's that so few are. Moral that is. Bit of a grey line for me..." Lucifer offers, giving a grin. "But think about it. You've been free for how long, and who's come after you? Who's tried to put you back? No one. Why do you think that is? Because they don't know you're free. Believe me...I'm absolutely certain they know." He places that out there for Azazel to muse over for a moment while he considers the other words spoken.

"You're right. You don't -have- to do anything. You can risk it, doing more and more, and being further and further under God's radar. Or.. You can keep this visage...and just live your life. Besides, there's no better time to actually be out of that ghoulish prison than now. If it have been anytime before now, well, wouldn't be half as many things you could do with your existence as you can these days. I've even got connections. We can establish a whole person for you. So you could, you know, mingle without having to mangle." Circles. Lucifer talks them well. But this isn't really a circle. Just a line. In the sand. Drawn as a stop/start point.

"Also. Please. Samael is so....old school. Old book. And reserved to be used in pleasentries by a select few. You can call me Lucifer. I'd prefer it, really."

Phantasm (Drago) has posed:
Nick pauses to Lucifer's question regarding someone trying to put Azazel back. He looks over to the Biker. "Actually...Didn't someone show up when we were talking? I didn't catch a glimpse of who but being it happened during the still time-"

Sinister has posed:
Azazel nods to Nick, jerking his chin up at the young man a moment afterwards. "Kid has it right. But you ain't lyin' if you don't know you are, eh?" He sniffs, nose twisting all the way to the side with it. "Voice o' fuckin' high lord hidin' in his palace of light had different ideas. See, /he/ can't have me out and about, I might drop him in the shit, if I do. He knew soon as I busted the bonds..."

He sneers with it, but then is calm yellow-eyed anger, cold as the grave.

"Lucifer. You serious? Ok." He shrugs, chuckles again. "Some things about ya just ain't changed at all, Lucifer. Still talk the sweet talk and sound so damn persuasive..." he looks to Nick again, shrugs both shoulders back and sighs.

"So the flip of that. If I don't agree to just be a good doggy and put on a nice face to hide my teeth, what then?"

Lucifer has posed:
Lucifer's eyes narrow a bit and then he glances upwards with a look of sheer disdain on his face. "How would you drop him in the shit any more or less than I have? I've spoken both highly and lowly of him, -and- have communed with other members of other patheons. If that's not a stick shoved up his ass, I don't know what would be." He comments, looking back to Azazel then with a softened expression.

That soft expression turns into a smirk as he lifts a single shoulder in a shrug. "I was supposed to remain in Hell for all eternity. Got bored. Busted out. Built a life here. I don't know how long you've been out. It wasn't until just before I visited that Asrael told me they could tell your wards were weakened. Told her I would look into it. Now, here we are. The only things I couldn't figure out... is how you broke out... and how you managed to become unalive. Or is it undead?" He scoffs and motions to the skeleton. "Cause that's you. In that whole 'well duh' kind of way."

Then that last question is asked. What if he doesn't agree to be a good doggy. "I can't like. I don't have all the answers. I can't speak for the others. I can speak for myself. I can tell you that I won't go after you for as long as you don't pose a threat. To me. To mine. To the places we've made homes...and that's a lot of places. Consider it the entire world, if you will. The others? Who the fuck knows. They'll probably bug me about it. They'll probably tell me that their problem is my problem. I can't keep you like a dog on a leash. It's just...not in my personal nature..."

Phantasm (Drago) has posed:
Nick tilts his head in indication of Lucifer, "...Considering that's it's generally accepted for him being here now, that's probably helpful to making the argument for you being out. Because now there's a precedent."

The musician brings a head back to rub the back of his head. "Come to think of it...If they weren't relaxing a little bit, wouldn't the reaction have been a little less- open when we figured out what was up with me?"

Sinister has posed:
Azazel grunts, then sneers as he glances upward. "Not Him. That piece of asshole that took his mantle and ran amok with makin' angels out of it, to do his bidding and fuck who he wanted to fuck. I know his dirty little secret, Bubba and he ain't about to let me off th'hook. See, you ain't the sort as don't lie, but that never got to be somethin' I got to lean on. They got me bang to rights accordin' to the propaganda, for doin' -your- fuckin' job, /Lucifer/."

The Scapegoat turns his head and spits there, snarls defiance up at the darkened sky and his eyes flare briefly brilliant yellow. "You ain't got a hold of me no more, you dumb as fuck asshole. You hear me?" -- there's a flurry of sound and ooooooooooh so very briefly, there might be this horrible moment where extreme pain flares in Nick's ears. Which might start bleeding a bit. Or his eyes. Or his nose. -- "FUCK YOU, you ASSHOLE!!!!"

Bellowed at the sky, a cloud of insectile yellow whisps emminate from Azazel's mouth, flitter in all directions and the sky is swallowed by them. Their incandesence brings a sudden, poignant silence. And the pain goes away, mercifully.

The light comes back... almost hesitantly, lurid and turbulent in the perpetual twilight of the crossroads.

"I can't make no fuckin' promises, Lucifer. I got vengeance to enact... Wrath to become. But I ain't gonna kill innocents, as long as you don't fuck me over."

Lucifer has posed:
Lucifer looks upwards again, but then his eyes are back on Azazel. "Doing my job? Are you fucking kidding me? Are we talking before or after the falling, cause I'm pretty sure I did my jobs after we fell. I'm not the one who started putzing around and putting weapons in random people's hands, arming them and pitting them at each other for the sake of war. In the name of Pride. No, that was all on you...don't you sully my work because you feel some sort of way about how they imprisoned you..."

Lucifer doesn't get angry often. He hates being angry. Hates what it does to himself, to his mind, and he's worked hard to keep his rage at bay. Sometimes, however, little pricks are as little pricks will be. He takes a breath, about to say something more when the other theatrics begin and he's second too late stepping over to Nick to cover the man's ears, but he does flash wings and curls them around himself and Nick until the sound eventually stops. "That wasn't nice! There's mortals here you dipshit!"

A growl as he finally unwraps Nick when the sound stops and then looks Azazel dead in those yellow eyes. "Vengeance. Wrath. Oh you're picking the -fun- ones this time aren't you? Look. You two need to just fuck your differences out of each other and then tell all of us others to have a nice day. Just remember. -I- won't keep you on a leash....I can't promise that others won't try...."

Phantasm (Drago) has posed:
Oh...

Shi-

It seemed like a simple conversation but as Azazel's voice raises to inhuman levels. Nick winces in pain. Hands move up to cover his ears as his mouth does what it can to relieve the oncoming onslaught.

"Fuck. Fuck fuckity fu-"

Yes. Cursing sometimes can relieve pain. How about that?!

As Nick crumples down, eyes closing, he's a bit distracted as Lucifer comes to his aid.

By the time the wings lift away, it becomes apparent that Nick shifted over. Mirrored but with wilder looking hair, even paler eyes look over to Azazel. Free of the debilitating effects of that one sense, the dream form straightens up.

Nick gives a nod of thanks to Lucifer before looking back over to the watcher, "A bit of warning next time, please."

Sinister has posed:
"Warning? You think that was me? Wasn't kiddo -- I ain't got the Voice of God..." Azazel stares holes at Lucifer a moment when the devil is as he is, then stares some more. Because it's such a wonderful working solution, he stares... again! "Oughta be thankin' me, I stuffed fuckin' gnats down his throat."

The look of absolute disdain at the suggestions though, really does speak volumes.

"Seriously, what happened to you, Lucifer? You're drinkin' the koolaid, all cherry flavoured with a side of cyanide." He glances up at the sky briefly for one more moment, then. "Aaah, fuggit..." -- dematerializing, the rush of smoke and ashes with stench of rot and brimstone, surges forward, up and OVER Lucifer and Nick. It's horrid in there, so probably a good job that smell isn't an issue for the Dream version of the Phantasm.

As it moves over, there's flashes. A garbled kind of high-speed fast-fast forward of the video-tape of thought and memory, all horribly quick and terribly garbled but... possibly that can be sorted out later. Who knows? Or purged.

But as soon as the rush is there, it's over and the cloud of the Scapegoat is rushing past. Of the skeleton, nothing much remains but burning bones and crumble. Only the rings sit on the ground of the crossroads, slightly charred, but intact.

Azazel, however, is gone.

Phantasm (Drago) has posed:
As Azazel corrects him, Nick frowns. Figures they just scapegoated the OG scapegoat. "Oh. Sorry."

There's not much of a chance to follow up beyond the apology as Azazel opts to info dump upon the other two. With the sudden flood of thoughts so packed together that it takes a moment to comprehend what it was- By the time Nick could refocus. There's no Azazel around to ask what he means.

"Well...That could have gone better."