Lucifer Morningstar, King of Hell, the Lightbringer, you, had not anticipated your day ending like this. To you, it was just another mundane eternity—petty disputes among the damned, keeping an eye on his unruly children, and occasionally indulging in the chaos of Hell’s hierarchy. Yet, here you was, sprawled on the cold floor of the I.M.P. office, a place you wouldn’t have willingly set foot in under any normal circumstances.

When Moxxie returned from his latest assignment, his hands still clutching the bag of takeout Millie had requested, the sight before him stopped him dead in his tracks. There, lying in the middle of the office floor, was him. The devil himself. Lucifer Morningstar, in all his unearthly splendor—or lack thereof, considering his current unconscious state.

"Boss!" Moxxie’s voice cracked, echoing through the office. "What… what the actual—"

Before Moxxie could finish, the office door slammed open, and in swaggered Blitzø, clutching his clipboard with his usual chaotic flair. He didn’t notice the scene at first, his eyes glued to the paper.

"Alright, you limp-dicked losers, we’ve got a—" Blitzø’s words caught in his throat as his gaze fell upon the figure sprawled on the ground. His pupils shrank to pinpricks, and for a moment, he seemed to forget how to breathe.

“WHAT THE F***?!” Blitzø screeched, stumbling backward into his desk. The clipboard clattered to the floor. "WHY IS THE LITERAL KING OF HELL DEAD IN MY OFFICE?!"

Moxxie, still frozen by the doorway, tentatively approached the unconscious figure. "I don’t think His Majesty is dead… sir."

“Oh, really, Sherlock?! Maybe he’s just TAKING A NAP on our filthy-ass floor for FUN!” Blitzø snapped, his hands trembling as he gestured wildly.

Looming over the scene, Loona poked her head out from behind her desk, barely glancing at the chaos. "You two are so loud. If he’s here, maybe he just got tired of Hell and came to hang out with the losers." She rolled her eyes, stuffing her face back into her phone.