Lucifer Morningstar (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
my_own_advocate) wrote2020-07-25 10:20 am
my_own_advocate) wrote2020-07-25 10:20 am
Entry tags:
Baltimore, Saturday Afternoon
It was hardly the first time Lucifer had wandered the streets of Baltimore. Over the past year, he’d done up his fair share of contacts - handed out a few favors, when nostalgia struck him - and found his way around interesting venues. So the dingy bar he stepped into about an hour after opening time? It wasn’t unfamiliar.
Detective Jersey Dan hadn’t let him keep that mobster’s phone, but finding out where the Russian mob liked to drink hadn’t exactly been difficult. He ordered a straight whiskey at the bar, flirting briefly with the waitress before he slipped into the shadows.
Wasn’t hard to identify the actual criminals from the sad wannabes from there.
See, this was much better. He’d spent a few days since that morning on the beach attempting to repress feelings of-- well, feelings, the kind of feelings one naturally got when a friend you thought you were on the same page with made it clear he thought you were some kind of monster coercing them-- er, people into things they wouldn’t do otherwise, and that clearly hadn’t worked. Feeling useful? That would help.
He watched the mobsters laugh and play cards. One of them, a man with a distinctive scar on his face, would sometimes turn and look at the waitress. She was clearly avoiding him, but she looked too scared to do more.
Probably the man in charge.
I think I found us a lead, he texted to Detective Jersey Dan.
He moved his chair a bit closer, but he could only pick up stray sentences of the Russian they were speaking to one another. Something about finding a new warehouse? Whatever the case, as soon as they got anywhere near something interesting, the waitress… got a bit too near them.
The man-in-charge laughed, tugging on her skirt. “Come a bit closer,” he cooed.
”Is this just another way to manipulate me?” Chloe asked--
He blinked away the memory. In an instant, he had stood up. “Excuse me,” he called, “Feliks, is it?”
Feliks dropped the girl’s skirt. “Can’t you see we’re busy here?” he asked, face struck with irritation as the waitress nimbly slipped out of his grasp in the time she’d had.
“Oh yes,” Lucifer said, sticking his hands in his pockets, a grin on his face. “But I couldn’t help myself. You lot look like enterprising gents, and I’m trying to get the lay of the land in this town. I figured we could help each other.”
One of Feliks’s friends looked up sharply at the sound of his voice. His eyes went big. He whacked his boss’s arm. “That’s the man who raided our warehouse the other week!”
“Oh, yes,” Lucifer said, his gaze moving to the man. He looked scared. Good. “I had just been trying to get some information about someone who wronged you, but you got a bit shoot-happy, and Daniel is unfortunately not as bullet proof as I am.”
“We don’t want your help,” Feliks snapped, his upper lip curling up.
Lucifer took a few steps closer. He didn’t mind that they were reaching for their weapons; he didn’t care. “No? Then what do you want?” he asked. “Please, tell me.”
He hadn’t come here to do this, but who was he to resist an opening like this?
“I,” Feliks said, tilting his head, confusion spreading across his face. “I want-- control. Over the business. Over the men. Right now I want it over that girl over there, with her pretty--”
“Yes, we can all see how pretty she is,” Lucifer said, stepping closer still. “But she doesn’t particularly care for you, does she?”
“If she didn’t want me to touch her, why would she be wearing that skirt? Why would she be looking that w-- Ugh--”
And the guns were out. Lucifer, his hand on the man’s throat, shoving him backwards until he hit the wall, really didn’t care. “Perhaps because she likes it,” he said pleasantly, though there was a hard edge under it. “Perhaps because she needs you to pay her bills. Perhaps because she hopes most people understand that the point is to look but don’t touch, so everyone gets what they want-- cash, attention, a nice view-- without anyone winding up in a position they find repulsive or threatening or otherwise horrid.”
He slammed the man back against the wall. “I keep asking you people simple questions,” he snapped. “You keep lashing out at me. Bit of a temper, I feel.”
He heard the guns cocking.
“Let him go,” one of the men growled. Was that a tremble Lucifer heard in his voice?
He ignored him.
“Makes me wonder what you do with that temper unopposed,” he growled. “Force yourself on a lot of well-meaning waitresses, do you? Taking advantage of an opening as soon as you see it and screw everyone else?!”
His eyes flickered red.
And then, for the first time since he came here, his entire face did.
Feliks started screaming. So did the guns (that was another jacket, destroyed). Lucifer’s grin split wide and for a moment he wasn’t thinking about any of it-- the jacket, the guns, Duke, Octavia, Jersey Dan, even Chloe-- except for the screaming. Except for the look in Feliks’s face as he realized punishment had come for him.
Then Lucifer turned and hurled him bodily at his men.
He slammed into them, bowling two of them over, crashing onto the ground. Distracted the other two long enough for Lucifer to punch one of them hard in the face, hurling his gun at the other one until he went down, too.
It was over in an instant: the flow of adrenaline, the anger, the sheer joy of doing something for a change.
The red had already faded from his face, but the grin was still there. He knew what it looked like: terrifying. “Leave,” he growled in a voice pitches deeper than his usual plummy accent. “I’ll give you a head start if you run along now.”
Feliks scrambled to his feet, his eyes hazy with the look of a man with a concussion. He dashed out the backdoor, his goons following him.
Lucifer glanced over his shoulder, saw the fear in the girl’s eyes, and followed.
Daniel, if you want to come over and arrest more mobsters, feel free, he texted to Jersey Dan, and kept walking.
[[ open for phone calls etc ]]
Detective Jersey Dan hadn’t let him keep that mobster’s phone, but finding out where the Russian mob liked to drink hadn’t exactly been difficult. He ordered a straight whiskey at the bar, flirting briefly with the waitress before he slipped into the shadows.
Wasn’t hard to identify the actual criminals from the sad wannabes from there.
See, this was much better. He’d spent a few days since that morning on the beach attempting to repress feelings of-- well, feelings, the kind of feelings one naturally got when a friend you thought you were on the same page with made it clear he thought you were some kind of monster coercing them-- er, people into things they wouldn’t do otherwise, and that clearly hadn’t worked. Feeling useful? That would help.
He watched the mobsters laugh and play cards. One of them, a man with a distinctive scar on his face, would sometimes turn and look at the waitress. She was clearly avoiding him, but she looked too scared to do more.
Probably the man in charge.
I think I found us a lead, he texted to Detective Jersey Dan.
He moved his chair a bit closer, but he could only pick up stray sentences of the Russian they were speaking to one another. Something about finding a new warehouse? Whatever the case, as soon as they got anywhere near something interesting, the waitress… got a bit too near them.
The man-in-charge laughed, tugging on her skirt. “Come a bit closer,” he cooed.
”Is this just another way to manipulate me?” Chloe asked--
He blinked away the memory. In an instant, he had stood up. “Excuse me,” he called, “Feliks, is it?”
Feliks dropped the girl’s skirt. “Can’t you see we’re busy here?” he asked, face struck with irritation as the waitress nimbly slipped out of his grasp in the time she’d had.
“Oh yes,” Lucifer said, sticking his hands in his pockets, a grin on his face. “But I couldn’t help myself. You lot look like enterprising gents, and I’m trying to get the lay of the land in this town. I figured we could help each other.”
One of Feliks’s friends looked up sharply at the sound of his voice. His eyes went big. He whacked his boss’s arm. “That’s the man who raided our warehouse the other week!”
“Oh, yes,” Lucifer said, his gaze moving to the man. He looked scared. Good. “I had just been trying to get some information about someone who wronged you, but you got a bit shoot-happy, and Daniel is unfortunately not as bullet proof as I am.”
“We don’t want your help,” Feliks snapped, his upper lip curling up.
Lucifer took a few steps closer. He didn’t mind that they were reaching for their weapons; he didn’t care. “No? Then what do you want?” he asked. “Please, tell me.”
He hadn’t come here to do this, but who was he to resist an opening like this?
“I,” Feliks said, tilting his head, confusion spreading across his face. “I want-- control. Over the business. Over the men. Right now I want it over that girl over there, with her pretty--”
“Yes, we can all see how pretty she is,” Lucifer said, stepping closer still. “But she doesn’t particularly care for you, does she?”
“If she didn’t want me to touch her, why would she be wearing that skirt? Why would she be looking that w-- Ugh--”
And the guns were out. Lucifer, his hand on the man’s throat, shoving him backwards until he hit the wall, really didn’t care. “Perhaps because she likes it,” he said pleasantly, though there was a hard edge under it. “Perhaps because she needs you to pay her bills. Perhaps because she hopes most people understand that the point is to look but don’t touch, so everyone gets what they want-- cash, attention, a nice view-- without anyone winding up in a position they find repulsive or threatening or otherwise horrid.”
He slammed the man back against the wall. “I keep asking you people simple questions,” he snapped. “You keep lashing out at me. Bit of a temper, I feel.”
He heard the guns cocking.
“Let him go,” one of the men growled. Was that a tremble Lucifer heard in his voice?
He ignored him.
“Makes me wonder what you do with that temper unopposed,” he growled. “Force yourself on a lot of well-meaning waitresses, do you? Taking advantage of an opening as soon as you see it and screw everyone else?!”
His eyes flickered red.
And then, for the first time since he came here, his entire face did.
Feliks started screaming. So did the guns (that was another jacket, destroyed). Lucifer’s grin split wide and for a moment he wasn’t thinking about any of it-- the jacket, the guns, Duke, Octavia, Jersey Dan, even Chloe-- except for the screaming. Except for the look in Feliks’s face as he realized punishment had come for him.
Then Lucifer turned and hurled him bodily at his men.
He slammed into them, bowling two of them over, crashing onto the ground. Distracted the other two long enough for Lucifer to punch one of them hard in the face, hurling his gun at the other one until he went down, too.
It was over in an instant: the flow of adrenaline, the anger, the sheer joy of doing something for a change.
The red had already faded from his face, but the grin was still there. He knew what it looked like: terrifying. “Leave,” he growled in a voice pitches deeper than his usual plummy accent. “I’ll give you a head start if you run along now.”
Feliks scrambled to his feet, his eyes hazy with the look of a man with a concussion. He dashed out the backdoor, his goons following him.
Lucifer glanced over his shoulder, saw the fear in the girl’s eyes, and followed.
Daniel, if you want to come over and arrest more mobsters, feel free, he texted to Jersey Dan, and kept walking.
[[ open for phone calls etc ]]
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Oh god, was he trying to talk down The Devil while sitting in the parking lot of Grace's school?
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... no reason.
(Not that he particularly cared about Detective Jersey Dan's feelings on the matter, but it would be a useful data point!)
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Hey, Danny at least had Some Opinions On Free Will.
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... which was also a part of why he was having a quiet meltdown, yes.
"Hm," he said. "Well, thank you, but I need to go drive this blubbering mess to the precinct before he throws up in my car."
At which point he ended the call without waiting for a response.
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