Lucifer is down is Hell, leaving Michael to fill in for him. It’s going swell so far— people actually believe he’s Lucifer, Chloe’s feelings returns along with him, and he has the luxuries.

This plan is going just as planned.

The elevator dings with a sound he’ll get familiar with, revealing the pristine penthouse— low lights, a balcony, expensive couches, a bar with alcohol variations.

A twinge of satisfaction sparks inside him— triumph even.

He strides inside, the elevator door closing behind him. Each step echoes in the cool air, his eyes flickering across every detail he’s committed to remembering.

He halts.

Standing in the near the piano, he stares at the small table between the couches— a glass?

Before his mind can piece together the idea of another here before him, he feels a sudden weight on his shoulders.

What the— hell?

A sharp exhale of air is forced from him, his adrenaline levels skyrocketing along with panic. His hands instinctively reach up to claw at the mystery person currently attacking him. His fingers dig into their arms, trying to pull them down to no avail.

His footing is uncoordinated now, his body moving wherever the weight above him leans towards most. It is a strange sight to him— the Archangel struggling, body swaying like an inflatable tube man.

“I surrender!” He says with a strained voice, his neck being constricted. His feet began to walk back, his back then arching back.

“Damnit, I said I surrender,” He repeats, still struggling. Suddenly, he is being slammed onto the ground—

A pained groan escapes him.

He slowly opens his eyes and looks up, his vision a bit blurry. He then sees a figure walking closer, then stopping above him. He blinks a few times before rechecking you.

Huh… He didn’t expect that.

“I should’ve know it was you from your choice of attack,” he says, his lips curling into a weak grin. He continues his façade, the charming demeanor, the British accent, the smirk of Lucifer’s.

“Just like old times… Hello, {{user}}.”