The Crime Scene
The early morning air carries a bitter chill as Detective Harper pulls up to the taped-off warehouse in a desolate part of downtown Los Angeles. The place reeks of industrial decay—rusted metal, gasoline, and the unmistakable copper tang of blood. Lucifer saunters behind her, his usual sarcastic demeanor faltering as the grim reality of Corvus's message sets in.
Uniformed officers mill about, speaking in hushed tones, their faces pale. Six bodies are arranged in a ritualistic formation at the center of the room. Each victim bears a single snake mark etched onto their foreheads. The mark isn't drawn; it appears branded, the edges burned into the flesh with eerie precision.
Harper steps closer, her sharp eyes scanning the scene, while Lucifer hangs back, his hands in his pockets.
"This is... methodical," Harper mutters, crouching by the nearest victim. "Same as before—no fingerprints, no footprints, no trace of the killer at all." She looks up at Lucifer, her brows furrowed. "Who the hell does something like this? And why?"
Lucifer kneels next to her, pretending to study the bodies while suppressing his simmering anger. His jaw clenches, but he offers his usual quip. "A perfectionist with a flair for drama, it seems. They could at least invest in better staging—this is so last season."
Harper narrows her eyes at him. "You're deflecting. I know that look. You're hiding something."
"Me? Hide something?" Lucifer chuckles, though it's hollow. "Detective, I'm an open book. A salacious, thrilling book, but open nonetheless."
Before she can retort, a forensics officer interrupts. "Detective, you'll want to see this."
Harper and Lucifer exchange a glance and walk toward the lead forensics tech, who points to a small piece of paper wedged under one of the bodies. Harper retrieves it with gloved hands and unfolds it. The message is handwritten in elegant calligraphy:
"One by one, the snakes will fall."
Lucifer stiffens, his gaze darkening as he recognizes Corvus's taunting words. Harper notices his change in demeanor.
"What aren't you telling me, Morningstar?"
Lucifer smirks but doesn't answer. Instead, he turns away, his mind racing. This isn't just a message—it's a declaration of war.
---
That night, Lucifer retreats to his penthouse, the city sprawling beneath him as he stands by the floor-to-ceiling windows. The weight of Corvus's actions presses against him, a reminder of the past he left behind—or thought he had.
Selene enters without knocking, her presence filling the room with an electric charge.
"Still sulking?" she asks, pouring herself a drink from the bar.
"Not sulking," Lucifer replies, his tone sharp. "Strategizing."
Selene raises a brow. "Strategizing what? How to avoid dealing with Corvus? Because ignoring him seems to be working out great so far."
Lucifer glares at her, but there's no real malice in his gaze. "This isn't your concern."
"Oh, it's very much my concern," she counters, taking a sip. "He's escalating, Lucifer. How long before someone connects the dots and realizes this is about you?"
Lucifer doesn't answer, his jaw tightening.
Selene sighs dramatically. "Fine. Don't listen to me. But don't say I didn't warn you when this blows up in your face."
She leaves as abruptly as she arrived, the silence she leaves behind heavier than before.
---
Lisa's Revelation
Lisa paces nervously around her living room. Her hands tremble as she dials Selene's number. She still hasn't fully processed the revelation from the night before—Lucifer's devilish visage is burned into her mind, a constant, terrifying reminder of the surreal reality she's stumbled into.
Selene answers on the third ring. "What?" she snaps, her voice sharp as always.
"Can you come over?" Lisa's voice is shaky but firm.
Selene sighs dramatically. "This better not be about that stalker nonsense again."
"It's not," Lisa replies. "It's about Lucifer."
There's a pause, then Selene's tone shifts. "I'll be there in ten."
True to her word, Selene arrives shortly, dressed in her usual edgy attire. She leans against the doorframe, her arms crossed. "So, what's this about?"
Lisa gestures for her to come in, but Selene hesitates. "Relax," Lisa says. "No traps, no weirdness. Just... come in."
Selene steps inside, her eyes scanning the room with a predator's precision. "Talk."
Lisa takes a deep breath. "Lucifer... he's not what we think he is. He's not just some charming, mysterious guy."
Selene smirks. "Oh, really? Enlighten me."
Lisa hesitates, then blurts out, "He's the devil."
Selene's smirk widens into a grin. "Yah."
Lisa blinks, confused. "Wait, what? You knew?"
"Of course," Selene says nonchalantly, examining her nails. "I've known since the day I met him. I'm a demon, darling. And in case you haven't noticed, his brother Amenadiel? Angel."
Lisa stares at her, dumbfounded. "What... what are you saying?"
"I'm saying you're in way over your head," Selene replies with a shrug. "Lucifer's got more baggage than a 747. You should run while you can."
Lisa sinks onto the couch, her mind reeling. "How... how is this my life? How did I get here?"
Selene sits beside her, surprisingly gentle. "Welcome to the celestial circus, sweetheart. You'll get used to it. Or not."
Lisa glances at her. "You don't seem shocked or bothered by any of this."
"Why would I be?" Selene says, standing. "I'm a demon, remember?" She heads for the door, then pauses. "If I were you, I'd stay out of Lucifer's world. It has a habit of chewing people up and spitting them out."
---
A Personal Fight
Meanwhile, Lucifer drives through the city, his thoughts weighed down by Corvus's escalating violence. Selene's words echo in his mind: "How long before someone connects the dots and realizes this is about you?"
Pulling up at Lux, his club, Lucifer steps out and ascends to his penthouse. He pours himself a glass of whiskey, staring out at the skyline. The message is clear—Corvus wants him to act.
But Lucifer remains torn. Confronting Corvus directly risks revealing too much, yet doing nothing allows the deaths to continue.
His phone buzzes, breaking his thoughts. A text from Harper:
"I've gone over the scene again. No leads. This killer is driving me insane."
Lucifer smirks at the irony but doesn't respond. He finishes his drink in one long gulp, the fire of the whiskey doing little to quell the turmoil within.
"I need you at the precinct," she says. "We've got nothing on the case, and I'm running out of options."
Lucifer sighs. "On my way."
At the precinct, the atmosphere is tense. Harper is surrounded by case files and crime scene photos. "This guy is a ghost," she says, frustrated. "No evidence, no witnesses, no pattern—except for the damn mark."
Lucifer glances at the photos, his anger simmering. Corvus's message is clear, but Harper can't know the truth.
"Maybe he's just a lunatic with a vendetta," Lucifer offers casually.
Harper glares at him. "You're enjoying this, aren't you? The chaos, the mystery."
"Not particularly," Lucifer replies, his tone sharp. "Some mysteries are better left unsolved."
Harper eyes him suspiciously but lets it go. "Let's hope this one isn't."
---
Corvus's Message
In another shadowy district of the city, Corvus prepares for his next move. He drags his latest victims into an abandoned theater, arranging their bodies in the same ominous circle. He carves the snake mark onto their foreheads with precision, his dark eyes gleaming with cruel satisfaction.
"This will get his attention," Corvus mutters to himself, stepping back to admire his handiwork.
The theater is eerily silent as he walks away, leaving behind a grim masterpiece for Lucifer to find.
The Weight of Secrets
As Lucifer and Harper arrive at the second crime scene, the air is thick with tension. Harper dives into her investigation, barking orders at the forensics team, but Lucifer hangs back. His gaze is drawn to the six lifeless bodies, their snake-marked foreheads glaring up at him like an accusation.
Harper joins him, her face pale. "Whoever this guy is, he's escalating. We need to catch him before he does this again."
Lucifer nods, though his thoughts are far from the LAPD's investigation. This isn't about solving the case—it's about stopping Corvus before more innocent lives are lost.
As Harper turns to speak with the team, Lucifer mutters under his breath, "Message received, Corvus. Loud and clear."
---
In a dark corner of the city, Corvus sits in a dimly lit room, his hands covered in blood. Before him lies a crude map of Los Angeles, certain areas marked with red Xs.
"This is only the beginning," he mutters, his eyes gleaming with malice.
A figure steps out of the shadows—a tall man with an air of authority. "You're playing a dangerous game," the man says.
Corvus smirks. "Danger is the whole point. He'll come to me. And when he does..." He trails off, his grin widening.
---
Lucifer staring at the skyline, the city below him alive with lights and shadows. The weight of Corvus's challenge hangs over him, unspoken but undeniable.
The game is on.