Maze, ever the warrior, was already moving.
"Give me ten," she muttered, already striding toward the bedroom. "I need to shower."
Lucifer sighed, dramatically flopping onto the couch as he waved a hand lazily.
"Fine, fine," he drawled. "Wouldn't want you smelling like last night's whiskey while we're interrogating aliens."
Maze flipped him off before disappearing into the bathroom.
Lucifer chuckled to himself, fingers drumming lightly against the armrest as he focused on what he had felt.
The portal had been sloppy. Unrefined. Whoever had opened it either didn't care about being subtle—or they were desperate.
Which meant that whatever had come through…
Could be interesting.
By the time Maze returned, hair still damp but already dressed in her usual leather and weapons, Lucifer had already mapped out the location.
"Ready, darling?" he asked, standing fluidly.
Maze rolled her shoulders, cracking her neck. "Been born ready."
Lucifer smirked.
Then the surrounding air shifted.
A heartbeat later, they were gone. They arrived in the vast desert expanse of Mexico—where the portal had torn through reality.
The sand beneath their feet was still hot from the sun, the air heavy with the scent of distant saltwater and disturbed earth.
Lucifer's eyes flickered across the engraving burned into the ground—jagged, nordic symbols, etched deep into the sand.
He stepped forward, intrigued.
"Hmm…"
Maze, however, was already moving.
"Come on," she muttered, grabbing his arm and pulling him away.
Lucifer sighed, resisting just enough to be petty.
"Maze, darling, have you considered—just once—letting me study something before charging into the unknown?"
Maze didn't even look at him, already tracking the fresh footprints in the sand.
"They left tracks," she said, laser-focused.
Lucifer let out a long, exaggerated sigh but ultimately relented, following her.
"Fine, fine," he muttered. "Let's follow the mystery aliens first. Who needs research, anyway?"
Maze grinned. "Exactly."
And just like that, the hunt was on.
Lucifer and Maze followed the footprints until they finally saw them.
Four warriors—three men and one woman—clad in ornate armor, speaking excitedly to a tall, broad-shouldered blonde man who was clearly the center of their attention.
Behind them stood two young women and an older man, observing the scene with varying degrees of interest.
Lucifer's golden eyes flicked over the group, his attention landing on the excitable, long-haired blond.
He sighed.
"That's Thor," he said, gesturing lazily toward him.
His voice was smooth, rich, but it carried enough weight to break through the conversation.
Immediately—all heads turned.
The warriors' expressions shifted from excitement to confusion, their hands instinctively moving toward their weapons.
The other blond man—Fandral, if Lucifer remembered correctly—narrowed his eyes slightly before turning to Thor.
"Another friend of yours?" he asked, one brow lifting.
Thor, however, looked just as puzzled.
"Nay," he answered honestly, frowning slightly as he studied Lucifer. "I do not know this man."
Lucifer smiled.
"That's because we've never met, dear Prince," he said smoothly. "My associate and I are merely… passing through."
Selvig, who had been standing near the two young women, eyed Lucifer warily.
"Are you with the government?" he asked, suspicion laced in his tone.
Jane Foster immediately turned to glare at him.
"Selvig," she muttered, clearly annoyed.
Lucifer tilted his head, amused.
"Not at all," he said, voice light.
Darcy squinted at him.
"Okay, then who are you?" she asked, arms crossed.
Lucifer's smirk widened.
Ah.
Finally.
Now, this was his moment.
With a casual flourish, he stepped forward, golden eyes gleaming as he prepared to properly introduce himself.
"Well," he purred, just about to enjoy himself. "since you asked so nicely…"
His smirk was in place, his golden eyes glinting with amusement, his voice perfectly poised to deliver an introduction worthy of his name.
And then a roar of cosmic energy split the sky.
The air around them shuddered, space bending as a brilliant pillar of light tore open above them.
It looked like a rainbow.
Lucifer sighed, his shoulders dropping slightly as he tilted his head back, watching the familiar cascade of celestial light spiral toward the ground.
"Oh, come on," he muttered, mildly annoyed.
A second later, something massive landed with a resounding boom.
As the dust settled, a towering metallic figure stood at the center of the newly formed crater.
It was shiny golden.
Lucifer arched a brow.
Well.
That was certainly dramatic.
Around him, everyone reacted immediately.
Thor and his companions tensed, gripping their weapons, their bodies already shifting into battle stances.
The three humans stumbled backward, their expressions ranging from stunned to outright horrified.
The golden armor's face shifted, molten heat churning behind its featureless mask.
The warriors readied themselves.
Everyone braced for battle.
Except Maze, of course.
She didn't even flinch.
Instead, she eyed the machine with curiosity, her lips curling into a smirk.
"Huh," she mused, tilting her head. "Neat."
Lucifer, meanwhile, let out a deep, long-suffering sigh.
"Dreadfully dull," he muttered.
Maze turned, watching as Lucifer crossed his arms, looking more irritated than concerned.
She smirked.
"Oh, stop pouting," she said, leisurely strolling forward while the others were already rushing into battle.
Lucifer scoffed, dramatically adjusting his cuffs.
"I am not pouting," he grumbled.
Maze grinned. "Sure you're not."
Then, without hurry, she followed after the warriors, watching the fight unfold with an almost bored expression.
Lucifer sighed again. He had no intention of getting involved.
This was not his fight.
And, more importantly—
It was dull.
The golden, gaudy armor, for all its dramatic entrance, was just another soulless machine following orders. No mind, no passion, no intrigue—just a mindless instrument of destruction.
Boring.
So, while Maze joined the others, stretching like a cat before diving into the fray, Lucifer turned away.
Instead, he set his sights on something far more interesting.
A small squad of government agents had set up near the outskirts of the town, barking orders, attempting to maintain some semblance of order as civilians scrambled to safety.
They were also—very stupidly—trying to shoot at the armor.
Lucifer sighed.
"Humans," he muttered, shaking his head.
With a lazy stride, he made his way toward them, ignoring the panicked shouts and distant crashes of the battle behind him.
He found a car that had been conveniently abandoned, the windshield cracked from the earlier impact of the Destroyer's landing.
It was good enough.
With an easy flick of his wrist, he summoned a glass of scotch, took a slow sip, and perched himself atop the car, legs crossed, drink in hand—watching.
The agents barely noticed him at first.
They were too busy wasting bullets, trying to fire at the towering metal giant that did not even flinch.
Lucifer sighed.
"Such effort," he mused to himself, taking another sip. "Such enthusiasm. And yet… utterly pointless."
He swirled his drink idly, watching as Maze leaped onto the armor's back, daggers flashing, grinning like she was having the time of her life.
Lucifer smirked.
At least she was entertained.
For now, he was perfectly content to sit back and enjoy the show. Though he had just taken another slow sip of his scotch when someone dared to interrupt his peace.
"Sir, you need to move to safety."
Lucifer sighed dramatically, lowering his glass just enough to give the agent a bored, golden-eyed stare.
He was about to tell the poor man exactly why he was perfectly fine where he was—
"That won't be necessary."
A calm, even voice cut in, smooth and professional.
Lucifer's gaze flicked to the newcomer.
A middle-aged man, receding hairline, composed expression, and a suit that somehow still looked neat despite the chaos unfolding around them.
More importantly, there was a wariness in his tone when he spoke next.
"Mr. Morningstar."
Lucifer's interest piqued.
He arched a brow, setting his glass down on his knee.
"Oh?" he mused. "You're part of Director Fury's agency, then."
The man inclined his head slightly.
"I am Phil Coulson, agent of SHIELD," he confirmed.
Lucifer smirked. "How delightful."
Coulson remained perfectly neutral.
"Did you come to help?" he asked, his voice polite but measured.
Lucifer let out a low chuckle, waving a hand toward the battle.
"Oh, no, not me," he said smoothly. "That's more of a—how shall I put it?—a hobby for my dear Mazikeen. She requires daily exercise, you see. Otherwise, she gets grumpy."
He was rewarded immediately for his words. A knife came sailing through the air, fast and deadly, aimed directly at him.
Lucifer, without even looking, casually flicked a finger—and the blade stopped mid-air, hovering inches from his face before spinning lazily and dropping into his open palm.
He sighed, inspecting the weapon.
"Honestly, darling," he called over his shoulder, amused. "You could at least try not to be so predictable."
Maze's voice, filled with gritted amusement, shouted back from across the battlefield—"Move your ass over here and say that!"
Lucifer chuckled, twirling the knife between his fingers before pocketing it. Coulson, to his credit, barely reacted. Instead, he merely adjusted his jacket.
"So you're here to spectate?" he asked.
Lucifer smirked, raising his glass again. "Precisely."
Coulson studied him for a moment—his expression unreadable.
Then, with a mildly amused nod, he murmured, "Figures."
Lucifer grinned.
Oh, he liked this one.
.
.
I'm tired af
Work had been hard lately with not many of us workers and more clients coming. My sister, the one I live with, has gone on a month long trip to our home country and I have to take care of her cat (name: Snoopy), so yeah, this has not been my month, at all.
I tried to write when I could but... well, I've not been really succesful. Let's hope September is easier on me now that my sister returns in two days and I don't have to take care of everything.