Conversing with Caral Woodly had piqued Lucifer's curiosity. Woodly struck him as an intelligent man, one whose mind could not be easily swayed by mere manipulation, but rather by a sense of class. Lucifer sensed that Woodly's personality and actions were influenced by his mysterious sponsor. The way Woodly spoke seemed almost scripted, as if the words did not fully reflect his own thoughts. While Woodly appeared relaxed, the complexities of his mind intrigued Lucifer.
Caral Woodly was a mercenary, a "rat" in the criminal underworld. Unlike an emotional "snitch" who would do anything to avoid trouble, Woodly was a calculating individual who would manipulate and sell information to protect himself. Such "rats" are highly valued in the criminal sphere, as they will readily betray their associates in exchange for personal gain, showing no fear of the consequences. Woodly's sponsor clearly rewards him handsomely for his loyalty, as Lucifer can tell that Woodly is a master manipulator. However, today Woodly has met his match in Lucifer Morningstar - a mere mortal cannot hope to manipulate the one and only Devil. Lucifer can see through Woodly's façade, piercing the wolf in sheep's clothing.
Lucifer was determined to test Woodly, to see if he could be turned, in the hopes of extracting more valuable details. For Lucifer knew that a "rat" like Woodly, once turned, would always remain one.
Lucifer's ocean blue eyes gleamed with intrigue as he gazed at Mr. Woodly. "I am curious," he said with a captivating smile. "What reward would you seek from me if I asked for detailed information? I would provide anything you'd ever desire, if I can just get a clue about the locations of your sponsors. I'd love to meet them one day."
Mr. Woodly merely chuckled, unwilling to divulge any information about his superiors. However, Caral Woodly made the mistake of looking directly into Lucifer's mesmerizing eyes. In that moment, Lucifer's natural devilish charm took hold, rendering Woodly powerless to resist. Woodly's eyes dilated as Lucifer's influence over him grew stronger and more potent.
Lucifer sensed the deep fear in Woodly's eyes. "Protection is easily provided here, in my domain," Lucifer said calmly, a hint of amusement in his voice.
Woodly opened his mouth, speaking in metaphor. "My sponsors are the Cerberus of the underworld, though never Hades himself. They guard the lake of lost and damned souls."
Lucifer's eyes widened slightly. Despite his charms, Woodly proved a complex mortal, his words cloaked in cryptic metaphor. Yet Lucifer understood the implication - if Woodly's "sponsors" were akin to Cerberus, they must be following the orders and motivations of an even greater power. Lucifer now realized that the metaphor about the Underworld could also refer to the sophisticated criminal organizations of Europe. Unlike their American counterparts, the European mafias consider themselves the true rulers of their own "underworld" - a highly organized network of complex criminal activities. Lucifer watched with fascinated eyes as Caral Woodly continued the metaphor. "Cerberus, the loyal hound of Hades, is well-compensated with the spoils from his subordinates' prey. He is the one who recruits underlings to serve the interests of the Underworld."
Caral Woodly's words were eloquent, reflecting his private thoughts alone. Lucifer sensed a palpable unease. It was clear to Lucifer that Woodly's previous words had been carefully scripted to avoid incriminating himself or his sponsors.
It was as if the shadowy Cerberus was watching over him like a deity. Lucifer merely chuckled at the observation. Suddenly, a cry rang out from the audience in his club. A man had drawn a gun and aimed it at Woodly.
But Lucifer reacted with lightning speed. "Mazikeen," he said with a wide smirk. The bartender next to Lucifer was a demon. Mazikeen, Lucifer's right-hand demon who had assisted him in tormenting souls in Hell for millennia, was dressed provocatively. The moment Lucifer uttered her name, she knew precisely what he required. Mazikeen vaulted over the bar and stood before Woodly and Lucifer, blocking the shooter's line of fire. The shooter seemed annoyed but unsurprised by this development
The guests in Lucifer's club scattered in a panic as the strippers and Lucifer's associates rushed out in fear. No one bothered to call the police, as each person in the club was a known criminal under Lucifer's protection. Caral Woodly immediately broke eye contact with Lucifer, amazed by Mazikeen's lightning-fast reflexes in response to Lucifer's order. Woodly's gaze then locked onto the gunman, a palpable sense of unease and dread washing over him. Lucifer realized in that moment that the metaphor Woodly had so carefully expressed was more than enough to cost him his life. Yet Lucifer remained amused and increasingly fascinated by Woodly's enigmatic sponsors.
The gunman pulled the trigger without hesitation. However, Lucifer noticed an unusual slowness to the sound of the gun firing, and the sparks from the barrel seemed to move in slow motion. The sounds of the world instantly went quiet. Lucifer rolled his eyes in annoyance, knowing full well what this meant. "Brother... You always arrive at the worst moments," Lucifer said coldly as he took a sip of his bourbon. Stepping out from behind the bar, Lucifer calmly adjusted the bullet's trajectory in mid-air. Time had stopped with the arrival of his brother Amenadiel on Earth, making it a simple task to redirect the active bullet to aim directly at the shooter's gun.
"What do you want from me?" Lucifer said sarcastically.
Amenadiel, God's favored son, stood tall and proud, dressed in the finest cloak and robes of respect. His stance exuded the bearing of a seasoned warrior, yet his features betrayed a constant state of composed anger as he watched Lucifer fraternize with these mortal beings, a sight that clearly disgusted him.
"I've been observing you, Lucifer," Amenadiel said calmly, his measured strides carrying him closer to his brother. "And I must say, I'm not entirely pleased with what I see. This... restraint, this mercy - it concerns me."
Lucifer, for his part, radiated a confident demeanor, though a hint of unease lingered beneath the surface. He was determined to do whatever it took to ensure he never returned to the depths of Hell. "You're trying to scare me back into the darkness, brother," Lucifer replied coolly, his glare sharp and unwavering.
Lucifer knew he was changing, for the better, and while it unsettled him, it also brought a sense of rejuvenation. "There is a delicate balance we must uphold here," Amenadiel said, his head inclining gently, as if acknowledging Lucifer's awareness of this fact.
"I strongly suggest you heed Father's request and return to Hell, as I've instructed," Amenadiel said, his words carrying the weight of a veiled threat.
Lucifer approached Amenadiel calmly and composed, saying, "Don't threaten me, brother. You wouldn't want to start a war." He spoke with a slight smirk. Amenadiel responded darkly and slowly, "I would love a war," exuding the eloquent warrior persona his father, God, had molded him into.
Lucifer let out a slow, dark chuckle. "Oh, Lucy. My hatred for you grows stronger with every visit," Amenadiel said, amusement evident in his slight smile. Unperturbed, Lucifer simply said, "Well, I wouldn't have it any other way, brother mine. I look forward to eating your heart one day." He took a sip of his bourbon, maintaining eye contact as the tension thickened. Even Mazikeen, knowing better than to interfere, kept her distance from Amenadiel.
Finally, Lucifer said calmly, "Peace."
Amenadiel abruptly departed Lux, vanishing into the night sky. As he left, time resumed its normal flow. Lucifer then began striding towards Caral Woodly. Suddenly, the sound of a bullet striking steel erupted, causing the shooter's hand to instantly erupt in pain, eliciting a growl. Caral Woodly's eyes widened, unsure of what he had just witnessed. In one moment, Lucifer had been behind the bar, and in the next, he stood beside Mazikeen, a wide, amused smile on his face.
Lucifer's voice was authoritative as he commanded, "Mazikeen, restrain the shooter. I need some information." The Lux Club was now officially closed. Mazikeen's wicked smile revealed she knew exactly what this meant. She swiftly grabbed the shooter, using the man's own clothes to secure him to the bar stool next to Caral Woodly. The shooter growled in pain as blood from his broken, injured hand dripped to the floor, much to Lucifer's annoyance - he'd have to clean up the mess eventually.
Caral Woodly sat in fearful composure on the bar stool, now looking at Lucifer with newfound respect. He realized he had unwittingly signed his life over to Lucifer Morningstar, as the devil had just saved him from his sponsor's shooter.
Mazikeen still taking her time expertly restraining the shooter, tying him securely to a chair with his own clothing. Her immense strength left the man completely defenseless as Lucifer sauntered behind the bar. With an amused grin, Lucifer handed Mazikeen a sharp hunting knife. "Be sure to clean up the blood when you're done," he said casually.
Mazikeen's face lit up with a childish, eager glee. "As you wish," she replied. Caral Woodly's eyes widened, but his expression remained composed despite the fear evident on his face as he watched the chilling interaction. Lucifer glanced at the helpless shooter, a wide, satisfied smile spreading across his features. "Now, let the games begin," he said, his tone dripping with malicious anticipation.