Chapter Text
"Pftttt—what is this again?"
Adam stood on the porch of a towering, red demon. An overlord.
Adam gulped, clutching his proposal—papers filled with colorful doodles—tighter. His caramel brown hair was combed back and he wore a black suit with a yellow bow-tie. "Mr. Alastor, the Happy Hotel—"
He was cut off by a dismissive hand. "Oh, I know what you're pitching to me, original sinner. You want me to help advertise your little...project on radio."
Adam forced a cheerful smile. "And...?"
"Ha ha HAHAHAH!" Alastor watched as the faint hopeful smile on Adam's face drop. "Oh dear. Redeeming sinners? As the sinner that bear the greatest sin of us all? I opened the door for you due to courtesy as the first man, but this... this is PURE entertainment!" Clutching the door frame with one hand and his staff with his other, he bowed over, wiping a tear of joy from his eyes.
Adam's face grew beet red. "I—sir..."
Straightening up—Adam was sure there was a crack where the demon's spine is—Alastor shook his head as a laughing track played from his staff. "Look around you, boy."
A few sinners walked into a shady nightclub, tongues intertwined. Some were brawling in the car park. Some were haggling for powder in white packets near a corn studio. But they all had smiles on their faces.
"Sinners want to burn in this inferno, and we very much deserved to. Why would any soul want a ticket to heaven? And..."
"Why would anyone want redemption from the one who stoked the fire?"
Before Adam knew it, the door in front of him slammed shut, and he was walking alone on the streets, hugging himself against the winds.
A stray bottle went flying towards his face. Without looking at the projectile, he caught it and discarded it into a bin.
He still remembered the day he took a bite of the forbidden fruit. The juice bursting upon contact of his lips. The sweet contents spilling over his teeth. The bitter tang that was left on the tip of his tongue as he swallowed. Each bite filled his veins with knowledge and strength he couldn't comprehend. He told Eve so many goddamn times not to eat it—but at that moment, he understood why his ex-wife couldn't resist the allure.
Still, he only had one bite. Eve had an entire apple. That's why he is above her... no, he has to be. Eve doesn't deserve someone like him. Lilith doesn't. Leaving him on his own, hah! Good riddance.
The overly-bright smile slid back smoothly onto his face. It was almost a part of his skin. Except it wasn't. It was a mask. He touched his stubble behind the grin. Numb.
Am I really doing the right thing?
That was when he overheard a few sinners: "You know, heaven ain't that bad..."
His eyes lit up. Maybe the chance of proving his worth is finally here.
But ghostly whispers stopped him in his tracks. You're not good enough. You can't do anything. They left you because you are incompetent. Because you're ugly. Because you refused to use your powers. No, he has to. He must. He's the first man.
I'm the dickmaster. And these were HIS people. HIS sons and daughters—no matter how disfigured they were mentally.
Muttering this to himself, he puffed up his chest and clenched the papers towards his chest. Maybe there would be new guests for the hotel after all.
***
On the other side of the pride ring, a girl with short white hair tapped her foot impatiently. "Is this line moving by any chance?"
The sinner in front of her gave her the finger. "HA! Suck it."
"You—" Lute lunged forward, but then clutched her prosthetic arm. Sparks burst, and fingers twitched. Damn it.
She's half broken. Handicapped. She's weak, the thing she despised being the most.
But Adam needs her at the hotel.
Lute allowed her mind to stray from the line to her boss. What would Adam be doing? Assembling chairs? Washing the mats?
That calmed her.
She clenched her scabbard with her right hand. She cannot afford to think about it—she knew the feeling she harbored towards him that shouldn't have been there.
The sound of glass shattering made her look left. Her hands flew to the hilt of her sword. Pure instincts and adrenaline. Adam is in trouble.
She had to get her arm fixed another day.
***
"Um, can we talk this out?" Adam's back hit the wall as the sinners surrounded him. "I'm sure you mean no harm..."
A sinner charged at him with claws. "Woah!" Adam sidestepped. The guy dashed again, this time nicking the side of his cheek. It drew a long line of blood.
"Fine!" Adam steadied himself before blasting the guy with a golden beam from his guitar. "You like violence, eh? Let's go VIOLENT!"
Another let out a deep growl before unleashing a tsunami of bombs at him.
Adam dodged, laughing manically as he whacked that one in the head. Home run. "I am going to kill all of you!"
The sinners took a step back. The circle loosened—not enough for escape.
"Do you think we really can't recognize you, Adam?" A drunkard finally screeched. "Or should we call you...dad?" Mockery dripped from his tone like venom.
Adam froze as blood streamed from his cheeks. Like red tears.
Another advanced on him, jabbing his chest at each syllable uttered. Adam didn't resist until he was back up against the wall. "The first ever man. How many of those fruits did you eat, father? Grace us with the knowledge you obtained through the plight of all of us!"
"I—"
"Wake up! We're here because of you!" The words hit him harder than a truck, but they didn't stop there. "And now you're trying to sell us this stupid plan for redemption? YOU cast us here. YOU made us suffer in this freaking hellhole!"
Anger, along with color, drained from Adam's face. His fingers, churning with the power he'd accumulated, relaxed. Then he closed his eyes.
One of the sinners jeered. "Giving up the fight already? You're pathetic. You're truly—"
"...Weak!"
A flash. The sinner who just gloated was a blob of blood, intestines and sludge.
Lute gingerly pulled her sword from the cluster before directing it at the other sinners. "Anyone else has something to say?"
"No, mommy—I mean madam!" The sinners scrambled.
Lute's face was darker than a void as she began to pursuit. "I'm going to rip their mouthes out of their a—"
A warm hand touched her wrist. "Geez, chill, Lute."
Lute struggled, but his grip was too strong. Her boss was leagues above him, but her eyes were filled with bloodlust and rage. "They hurt you, Adam. Let me—"
"...Your arm."
Lute looked at her golden arm. Coincidentally enough, a wire snapped at this exact moment.
"Fuck!"
***
Adam fixed her arm as Lute dabbed a cloth on his face.
"Why didn't you come to me? You know I'm an expert at fixing stuff." Anything but his relationships, that is. He paused. "I am THE dickmaster."
Lute's pursed lips stretched into a rare smile. "Why didn't you fight back, sir?"
Adam almost choked, but clutched it at the last second. "Y—you saw nothing, bitch!"
Lute's eyes told him that she indeed saw everything, but she didn't press. Instead: "I want to see you without the mask."
Adam laughed. "What the fuck are you talking about?"
You weren't exactly quiet crying yourself to sleep every night. Lute thought. "Thanks for fixing the arm...sir."
"Eh. Pound it, danger-tits?"
They fist-bump.
Adam held her hands with his.
"You know...I just remembered I had a meeting with Carmilla tomorrow. How do you say 'yes' in Spanish, Lute?"
"Si?"
"SEE DEEZ NUTS!" Adam rolled over, clutching his stomach and laughing like a toddler who'd just learned a joke. "I lied—Carmilla turned down my request. But I got you good, hahahaha!"
Lute deadpanned. "...I fucking hate you sometimes, sir."
Just as Lute withdrew, the door banged.
Leaving Adam on the floor, Lute opened the door: meeting eyes with a television. "Who—"
The walking television with a torso brushed past her to Adam. "Greetings. You must be Adam." He outstretched his hand. "It's a pleasure to be meeting my role model."
"Um. Yes, and you are..." Adam searched for his name in his mind. "Vox? The television overlord?"
"The overlord of technology. Yes. And I'm here to help." The sinister grin stretched to the edges of the frame.
"I have a bad feeling about this." Lute grumbled.
[TBC.]