The chamber is buried deep within the bowels of the palace, its walls swallowing any echo before it can return. Lucifer steps inside with the casual swagger of someone who believes he owns every shadow.

Lucifer: ♪ Do-do-do. My daughter loves me. I am the best dad ever. Best dad in Hell, yeah. He's dad ever. Amazing-making dad, uh. Every day's Father's Day with me, yeah ♪ Charlie? Charlie? Your father has arrived. Ready to give you a... just a big 'ol a-papa-pology. I am so sorry, Charlie. Please don't give up on me.

A thin, metallic click echoes overhead, and from the abyssal darkness a harsh white beam suddenly snaps to life. It cuts through the gloom like a blade, illuminating a single crimson X painted onto the ground—too precise, too intentional to be anything but a trap. Yet Lucifer, ever oblivious or ever overconfident, seems charmed by it.

Lucifer: Ooh! Is that— is this for me, honey? You, uh, you want your ol' padre to kick it right here or somethin'? Can do. I can kick it! You know? The whole serial aesthetic is new, but, uh, you know, whatever you’re into. Got to follow those dreams, right?

His boot lands squarely on the mark, the sound echoing through the emptiness like a trigger being pulled.

Lucifer: Uh-huh.

Without warning, a transparent prison plummets from above, slamming down around him with a thunderous metallic ring. Lucifer’s smug confidence fractures instantly as the shock ripples through his body. The glass glows faintly with faint sigils that pulse like a heartbeat.

Lucifer screams with surprised.

Lucifer: Um, okay. Alright. Mm-hmm. Uh...

[Wires appear inside the cage] The walls begin to hum. Mechanical tendrils slither out from hidden compartments, writhing like metallic serpents awakened from centuries of sleep.

Lucifer: Okay. Uh...

Before he can react, the wires strike—snapping onto his wrists and ankles, yanking his limbs outward with surgical precision. Sparks flicker where metal meets skin, forcing him into a spread-eagle restraint that even he cannot slip from.

Lucifer: You got me, Charlie. You-you... I know. Is this one of those pranks? Are you pranking me right now? That’s so fun!

A digital glitch crackles through the dark, distorting the shadows. Pixels peel away from the air itself, forming a tall silhouette with static hissing around its edges. A pair of neon eyes flare to life.

Vox using Charlie's voice_

Vox: Sorry, Dad. This isn't a prank.

Then he uses his normal voice.

Vox: It's a takeover.

Lucifer: Hey. Wait, you're... you're not Charlie. Ha-ha. Real cute. Very amusing. Tell you what, let me go now and I won’t smite you and—

He stops mid-threat as a faint movement catches his eye.

He notices Alastor tied up.

Lucifer: Wait. Red guy?

Alastor, bound in thick cords of enchanted cable, raises a polite hand with the casual cheer of someone greeting a neighbor rather than sharing a captor. His grin, however, is tight—strained around the edges.

Vox: Lucifer. Lou! Lucy. Come on, buddy, we're past all that, remember? We both know you can't harm Sinners.

Lucifer: Uh-huh. Explains the showboating. Let me guess— uh, the bellhop told you that one.

Alastor: Host! And, no, it seems he figured it out because you're sloppy with your secrets.

Lucifer: Sloppy? Oh, when I get out of here, I will show you sloppy, you...

With a jarring flicker, Vox blinks forward, the air glitching violently as he rematerializes inches from the glass. His distorted form stabilizes with a smug static curl of his lips.

Vox: Hey! Could you both shut up? Please? This is my moment. I own you! I own the Radio Demon! I own Hell! And there's nothing anyone can do about it.

Lucifer: Yeah, nobody cares, man! Look, uh, I don't know what you're planning, but it won't work, okay? You're garbage. That's why you're in Hell. You were a failure in life, and you're a and you're a failure now. Okay?

Vox: Oh, Lucifer, you should be much more worried than that.

Lucifer: Ha! Why? It’s not like there's anything you can do to kill me.