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💕💕 Always a pleasure to read your work!!!

The Ballad of Hell Springs: Part 3/5

Guitarspear (Hazbin Hotel) Western/Cowboy AU

AO3

Last Episode

Summary: On his yearly trip to Heaven's Gate, Adam, a forgotten outlaw, crosses paths with Lute, a woman on the run. On their journey, they form an unlikely companionship. However, the secrets of the past don't always stay hidden, and Adam soon finds himself thrust back into a role he had given up long ago. Part 1/5.

Warnings: Violence, implied murder, cursing, past implied/referenced character death, angst, blood

Notes: Our third episode of the cowboy hyperfixation! Hope y'all enjoy! Beta'd by the amazing @devastatedloyallute. I appreciate you! Y'all go check out her Guitarspear works!!

Lute and Adam made their way towards Heaven’s Gate, avoiding the main trails as much as they possibly could. She could feel a sense of unease building in the pit of her stomach at the idea of going back. She could feel her resolve weakening, her nerve desperately trying to claw its way out of her body.

Until she felt Adam’s large brown eyes on her, a strange grin on his face. She found she didn’t wish to meet his eyes (lest she find him staring into her soul as it seemed he so often did), so she instead looked at his hat, his hair, and his ear. Her eyes narrowed in on a small scar that cut across his ear just between the tip and the lobe.

“What?” She asked, her voice unsteady due to the attention. Horse flicked her tail at the sudden noise. Dust trailed behind her and Dick as they continued on their steady walk.

Adam shook his head, “Just thinking, Sweetheart.”

Lute narrowed her eyes, a wry grin forming on her face, “Don’t hurt yourself.”

Adam laughed, tipping his head back and letting the valley be filled with the melodic sound. Dick looked back at his master and rolled his eyes (if horses could even do such a thing). “I’m not gonna argue with you there, overthinking gets me into most of my troubles.”

Adam flicked the reins, guiding Dick closer to Horse so that the two were almost touching. Adam towered over her, his body bobbing up and down like a boat on a lake due to the movement of the saddle. He looked down at her, his eyes obscured by the shade of his hat. “Besides, I much prefer to do what feels right than spend too much time thinking about it.”

Lute felt herself gulp, a warm blush blooming on her cheeks. His leg brushed against her own as their horses walked in time. She glanced down at his saddle, his hips bucking against the saddle with every movement. She quickly averted her gaze (though not quick enough for Adam not to notice) and lightly dug her spur in Horse’s side.

Horse let out a dramatic whine and quickened her pace, leaving Adam and Dick behind in a trail of dust. Her heart fluttered in her chest, the blush spreading to other parts of her body. The friction of her groin against the steady rhythm of the saddle felt like too much. She squeezed her thighs tightly, trying to gather any relief from the overwhelming sensation.

She bit the inside of her lip so hard it drew blood. Perfect. Something else she could focus on. The coppery taste filled her mouth, though it did little to distract from her other senses. She shivered despite the heat of the sun’s rays that beat down upon them.

Get it together, Lute, she thought. She’d never had such a reaction to…well, anyone. Lust and longing had never been to her taste (though there were times she would notice the comfortable glances and touches Vaggie and Charlie gave to one another, the mischief of a lover in public that made her look away with a lonely pang deep in her chest).

Of course. Of course, the only man to spur such a reaction from her had to be someone nearly as old as her father. A man with a tendency towards mischief who could stop her in her tracks with a single look or risque comment.

“Shaking again, Sweetheart?” Adam called behind her. He and Dick had gotten closer to her than she had realized. She normally wasn’t this sloppy. She always took good care to be aware of her surroundings and the way she presented herself around people. What had this man done to her to cause a lifetime of habit to unravel in two days?

She didn’t dare look at him, instead taking in the landscape that looked no different than it had minutes earlier. His eyes burned into the back of her hat.

“What were you thinking about?” Keep your voice even, Lute.

He opened his mouth as if to speak, but no words came out. He gave her a strange look before shaking his head and letting out a laugh.

“Being back, I suppose. It's been over a decade. I know the town’s gotta be filled with new places, businesses,” He paused and looked at her once more. “New people.”

Lute shrugged her shoulders, “It might not be how you've left it, but it's the same as it ever was that I can remember.”

“A shame you never got to see it, truly see it, before the Vees. It had its aspect of bullshit, to be sure, everywhere does. But it was home,” Adam said, his voice wistful and eyes far away. He shook his head and glanced at Lute. She looked rather adorably ferocious, like a rabid bunny; her eyebrows were scrunched as she took his words.

“It's never been my home. Not truly,” She said without thinking. But it was the truth, and she felt she could speak her truths to him without judgment.

Home had never been a tangible thing to Lute. Sure, she'd grown up with a roof over her head and a warm meal, but she'd also had that at Miss Sera’s, and try as the matron might, that had never been Lute’s home. Home felt like nights in the open woods, a fire burning the sweet wood of the surrounding trees, her father humming a sad, old ballad that was once a favorite of her mothers.

Home had never been a place but a feeling.

Adam sat with her words for a moment.

“No, I ‘spose it wasn't. What’s home to you, Lute?” He asked, his brown eyes soft as he looked at her with a gentle look she wasn't sure she deserved.

And so she told him. Her memories of hunting with her father. Laughing with her mother. Causing mischief with Vaggie. It all spilled out of her like vomit. For his credit, Adam took her emotional explosion in stride, offering his own memories of childhood, those of his and his children.

“You know, I was also taken in by Miss Sera when I was a child,” Adam revealed. The sun beat down upon them as they drew closer to town, though the trek was much longer as they stayed off the main road.

“That woman is ancient,” Lute remarked, staring just a tad too long at Adam’s beard hair that was peppered with grays. Adam rolled his eyes at the insulation and Lute could swear he and Dick were of the same mind as the horse flicked Horse with his tail.

“She was only half-ancient when I first met her,” Adam said, his mouth twisted in a wry smile. “I don’t doubt I was the cause of any grey hairs or face lines.”

“You? A mischievous child? Color me shocked,” Lute replied, her voice flat but the hint of a twinkle sparkling in her eyes.

“I was a perfect angel, if you can believe it. Practically a cherub.”

“A cherub? I think that’s a bit of a stretch,” Lute teased.

“I couldn’t have been all that bad. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have taken in other children after me. I was her first, you know?”

“Oh?” Lute replied, unsure what else to say as she tried to imagine Adam as a child, running into the stern arms of Miss Sera.

“Yeah, the fever spread quick that year. Got my folks without them even realizing it.”

“I’m sorry,” Lute said, her tone genuine. Adam looked over at Lute with soft eyes. “I’m sorry that happened to you.”

“It happened a long time ago,” He replied. “Besides, I think I’m done giving time to things I can’t change.”

Lute nodded, biting her lip in thought.

Adam continued, “Besides, we’re almost to town. We are going to take a slight detour to stock up on guns and bullets. I know a place not too far from here that should have everything we need.”

“Where?” Lute asked skeptically. They weren't anywhere near a general store, as all of them were located in town. The only places close to them were homes and farmland.

“An old friend’s place,” Adam replied. He glanced over at her, a boyish look on her face as he winked. “What, you don’t trust me?”

“I—,” Lute hesitated, her thoughts spinning rapidly. Even with the logic and rational thought pounding in her skull, her heart gave a much simpler answer. Yes . “I trust you, Adam.”

He smiled at her, a genuine look with teeth and crinkling around his eyes that sent butterflies in the pit of her stomach.

Lute didn’t necessarily regret that statement when she looked up at the house in front of her, but she did rethink her sentiments just a tad.

“This is the Morningstar’s house,” She said, looking over at the Mayor’s home with apprehension. It had only been a few days since the last time she had been here, but even in that short amount of time, she felt like a completely different person. Touched and changed by experiences that had soaked deep into her bones.

They had tied the horses to an old stump a few yards away, just out of sight of the main road and house. Lute had felt her dread grow when she realized where exactly Adam had led her. Lucifer Morningstar had been mayor for as long as Lute could remember (with very little to show for it except the willingness to let things slide that was greatly utilized by Vox and his Regulators). It was very likely that Adam knew him from his time before.

“Yeah, and?”

“I—nothing.” She sent a prayer to a god she didn’t believe in, hoping that Charlie and her father weren’t at home. Charlie was normally bouncing around town throughout the day, so there was a good chance she would be out. Mayor Lucifer Morningstar, however, was a bit of a recluse, especially since his wife had passed a few years back.

“It’ll be quick. We’ll go in, get the guns, get out. It doesn’t even look like there’s anybody here.”

“And if there is?” If Vaggie or Charlie got hurt in their scheming…

Adam winked. “I can talk my way out of most things.”

He made a motion to head towards the back door, but was stopped by Lute grabbing his elbow. He looked down at her with a furrowed brow.

“You promise not to hurt anyone if someone is here?” She asked, searching his eyes for any sign of affirmation.

He stopped in his tracks and faced her head-on. A large, gloved hand made to cup her cheek, his thumb rubbing soft lines over her cheekbone. She felt herself lean into his touch, the bruise on her jaw left by Valentino no longer sore. “I only hurt people who deserve it, Lute.”

The intensity of his statement mixed with the softness of his touch caused a shiver to strike down her spine. In this moment, their plan felt real. She was no longer pretending to be an outlaw; she was one. People could get hurt because of them. But haven’t they already? The man she shot dead came to mind, his body crumpled to the ground like a sack of flour.

But then she thought back to the girl she saved from Valentino. The other children Miss Sera had taken in and nurtured, only for Vox or Valentino to sink their claws into them.

Perhaps this was for the greater good. At least, that’s what Lute would tell herself.

Lute nodded and immediately felt the absence of Adam’s hand on her face. He walked towards the door and fiddled in his pocket, pulling out a set of lock-picking tools. With a practiced motion, he picked the lock and glanced around the inside before motioning for her to follow.

The air in the house felt untouched, which gave Lute a small reassurance.

Adam bent down, his mouth almost brushing against her ear. His breath tickled her senses. “I’ll stay downstairs. I know where they keep the gun cabinet and most of their ammunition. Can you head upstairs and see if there’s anything else we might need?”

Lute felt herself nod without thinking, unable to truly process his words when his mouth was so close to her. How did he know where the Morningstars kept their gun cabinet and ammunition? Another question for another time. More layers to this strange man she would need to peel back.

Adam began to walk through the house as though he lived there, gazing at various trinkets or decor that caught his eye. His fingers brushed against the various items, lingering ever so slightly on a few of them.

Lute shook her head. She could get lost watching him if she weren’t careful. She looked around the space and found herself lost in the memory of only a few days ago, shaking and being rushed up the stairs by Vaggie and Charlie, who tried so desperately to help her escape Valentino and the Vee’s wrath.

Oh, what a way to repay them.

Lute found herself upstairs, walking cautiously from room to room. She didn’t necessarily know what Adam expected her to find, but she knew she wasn’t likely to find anything useful. She glanced into what she knew to be Charlie’s room, the windows open with the curtains flowing in the breeze. They bristled against the window pane, causing a slight, constant rustle as it moved.

A hand suddenly wrapped around Lute’s mouth, stopping any noise that she might have screamed. She tried to turn, but it was to no avail. The person’s grip was strong, but oddly familiar.

“Lute?!” The person exclaimed, yelling the most quietly Lute had ever heard. Lute would recognize that voice anywhere. “What are you doing here?!”

Charlie loosened her grip on her body but still kept a firm hand on her mouth. She turned and came face-to-face with the mayor’s daughter. Her eyes widened, taking in the concerned face of the partner of her dearest friend. Charlie released the palm on her mouth.

“Charlie?!” Lute whispered similarly, golden eyes meeting doe. Lute found herself immediately swallowed into a hug by the taller woman, her arms tightening around Lute like snakes. Charlie had always been one for affection.

Lute was not. (Though that was changing around someone .)

“Vaggie and I have been so worried about you. She’s hardly been able to sleep or eat. You’re supposed to be in Pride’s Peak.”

“I had a bit of a change of plans.”

“Change of plans? Lute, you’ve got to get out of here——”

Charlie was stopped by the sound of glass shattering in the other room. Charlie and Lute exchanged glances before rushing down the stairs towards the sound.

Adam stood hunched, his right hand daring to touch the hilt of his pistol. He grinned at Vaggie, who stood opposite him. She had a gun trained at Adam’s chest, her stance wide as she glared at him with a hard look.

“Vaggie,” Lute breathed out as she took in the stand-off. Adam glanced at Lute, recognition at the name dawning on him. He pulled his hand away from his holster, bringing both hands out in front of him. Vaggie was torn between keeping her gaze trained on Adam and daring to look at Lute and Charlie.

Charlie stood like a statue at the scene, her eyes wide as though she had seen a ghost.

“Uncle Adam?” She asked cautiously.

“Charlie?” The self-satisfied look that seemed always to be present on Adam’s features dropped as he took in the young woman who stood beside Lute. While she was every bit as tall as Lilith had been, it was easy to see that Charlie was all Lucifer.

“Lute?” Vaggie asked, gun still trained on Adam, though her gaze had turned to Lute and Charlie.

“ Uncle Adam?!” Lute exclaimed, looking between Adam and Charlie with wide eyes.

“Charlie, you know this man?”

Charlie nodded and turned towards Vaggie. “I do. A little less clean-shaven than the last time I saw him.”

Charlie turned her attention back towards Adam. “And a tad less dead than I remember.”

Vaggie lowered the gun cautiously, her body still tense. Adam looked at Charlie sheepishly, rubbing his hand behind his neck. It was one of the first times Lute could recall seeing him truly at a loss for words, excluding their visit to his former home.

“Lute, what in the hell is going on? Why are you back here with this man?” Vaggie asked, gun lowered but still held firmly in her grip to be aimed at a moment’s notice.

“---Adam.” Adam offered.

“Irrelevant,” Vaggie replied. “I was asking Lute.”

“I—I um.” Lute began, stuttering in a way she never had around Vaggie before. Vaggie narrowed her eyes, suspicion growing by the second.

“It’s because of me. I knew where Luci kept the guns in the house. We just needed a few.”

Vaggie narrowed her eyes. “What did he need guns for, Lute?”

Lute darted her eyes towards Adam, who subtly shook his head. His eyes were wide and pleading, begging for her to trust him.

But she couldn’t lie to Vaggie.

“To kill the sheriff. And the other Vees,” Lute said, her tone even despite the way her world shook inside. Verbalizing such a thing with only Adam was easy; he oozed confidence that made her feel just as strong. Speaking the words to Vaggie and Charlie left a pit in her stomach that made her feel flustered and naive.

Charlie took in a quick gasp. Lute couldn’t face her.

“Shit,” Vaggied breathed out, her mind racing. She rushed towards Lute, looking for something in Lute’s golden eyes. Some sign of coercion or insanity. She found nothing but steely resolve. “Shit, Lute! You got out! They would’ve stopped looking for you. You would have been safe!”

“Maybe I would have! But when does it stop, Vaggie?”

Vaggie opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. Adam watched the scene unfold, firmly under the spell of the golden eyes of Lute. Her rage and frustration was magnetizing and he found himself unable to turn away from her.

Lute continued. “They’re not gonna stop recruiting kids from Miss Sera’s. They’re not gonna stop harassing people every day on the streets. They’re not gonna stop causing fires.”

Vaggie narrowed her eyes. “What are you talking about, Lute?”

“Isn’t it just so odd that both of our homes burned. Along with so many other children who are orphaned. That Miss Sera has to take in?”

“You think the Vees are intentionally orphaning children?” Charlie asked, the question being more curious than condescending.

“Two birds, one stone, Char. Get rid of people in the community who disagree with you while also getting more access to children they can coerce into being Regulators.” Adam offered, his tone even and cautious. As if he didn’t know how to interact with this woman who just ten short years earlier had been his kid niece, who was always so kind to her cousins. His boys.

Too bad she took so much after Luci.

“Or Dancers,” Charlie added. Lute looked at her and saw the sadness creeping onto the blonde woman’s features. Charlie had found a friend in one of the young dancers at Valentino’s saloon, Anthony. Lute knew better than to think dancing was all Valentino had him performing.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Lute. Defending Mary was one thing. Going after the Vees? That’s a death sentence.” Vaggie said, her voice somber and eyes hooded. “And not just for the two of you.”

“Vaggie—,” Lute breathed out, trying to think of something to say to reassure her first friend, but was cut off by the sound of footsteps.

“What in the ever-loving hell is going on here?” Lucifer Morningstar exclaimed as he took in the scene before him. He looked between Charlie and Vaggie, and Lute (whose eyes lingered on for a tad longer) before they settled upon Adam. Adam grinned at him.

“Long time no see, Luci.”

Lucifer turned that same shade of death white that Charlie had when she first laid eyes on Adam. His eyes grew wide, and Lute swore she thought he was going to faint.

But Lucifer Morningstar did not faint. He was strangely quiet for a man she knew would speak often and awkwardly (much as his daughter did) with a lack of confidence. The look in his eyes brimmed with something else entirely.

He reached a hand towards his belt and pulled out a knife. It was quick, quicker than Lute had ever seen the man move. One second the knife was in the mayor’s hand, and the next it had made contact with the wall behind Adam. To his credit, Adam didn’t flinch or move. As though he had been expecting such a move.

Adam startled all the women present by letting out a booming laugh that seemed to shake the house. He reached a hand up to his ear, and Lute could see blood coating his hand. She thought back to that scar she had noticed hours earlier.

Adam wiped the blood on his trousers, grinning at Lucifer. “Still got it, eh, Luci?”

“How in the unholy Hell are you still alive?”

Adam shrugged, blood dripping from his ear, though he seemed not to pay it any mind. “Just lucky, I guess.”

Adam turned and grabbed the knife from the wall that had landed perfectly between two paintings Lute had paid little mind to. He wiped it on his pants, just as he had done with the blood, and examined the blade. He stared at it for a few moments before walking towards Lucifer. He handed the shorter man the knife.

The pair stared at each other, unspoken words speaking volumes. Lucifer took the knife tentatively, placing it back in his pocket before reaching out a hand towards Adam. Adam took the hand in his own and pulled Lucifer into a cautious hug. Affection had never been his thing, always Eve’s, but in that moment, Adam felt as though he hadn’t aged a day. The smaller man clapped him on the back, which he mirrored before pulling away.

“It’s good to see you, Luci.”

“Likewise. A bit more bear-like than I remember, though.”

Adam rubbed his beard and laughed. “Hard to maintain anything on the road. Where's Lils? I know she'd have a thing or two to say about that."

"She's dead, Adam," Lucifer replied, his tone heavy. Lost. Adam looked to Charlie, who nodded in affirmation, bowing her head as she did.

"I'm sorry to hear that." And he was. So genuinely sorry. His wife's sister had always been the first to tease and prod at Adam, but she could always take it right back. She had been Luci light, his world. She had always held Eve in such high regard; he couldn't imagine how hard her loss had been on Lilith.

"Me too," Lucifer replied, biting his lip to keep his emotions in check.

“What have you been doing all this time?” Charlie asked, always the mediator in spite of her feelings. Much like a younger Luci in that way. Vaggie placed a supportive hand on her back.

“This and that. Blowing around town to town.”

“Then why come back?” Lucifer asked, the look of a grieving widower gone and replaced with something wary. He looked from Adam to Lute. “Wait, is that my dress shirt?”

Adam looked between Lute and Lucifer, recognition sparking in his eyes. He began to laugh, a booming sound that started from deep in his belly. “You stole Luci’s clothes? That’s too rich, darlin’.”

Lute could feel her face flush. She had the good sense to look sheepish as she turned to Charlie and Vaggie for help.

“It was the best idea at the time to keep her hidden.” Vaggie offered.

Lucifer cocked his head. “Hidden?”

Charlie smiled awkwardly at her father. “Lute’s the one who defended that girl from Valentino a few days ago.”

Lucifer looked between Adam and Lute, his eyes darting back and forth before the dots began to connect in his mind. A decade had done nothing to make Adam a stranger. Luci could spot his intentions from a mile away.

“Adam, you better not be planning what I think you’re planning,” Lucifer warned, his tone stern. “What are you really doing back here?”

Adam was silent for a moment, sparing a glance at Lute, before answering Lucifer in a monotone voice. “We’re going to kill Vox and the rest of the Vees.”

“And what’s your plan, Adam? Getting yourself killed? Again , might I add?”

“Oh, Hell, Luci, that’s real rich coming from you,” Adam scoffed.

“Is it? You gonna get her killed too?” Lucifer said, pointing at Lute, though he kept his fury trained upon Adam.

“You know what he did to Eve and my boys. He terrorized everyone who came to town. And from what I’ve learned from Lute here how he and his goddamn Vees keep everyone under their thumb.” Adam said, fury brewing under his skin. “On your watch, might I add.”

“I had a family to protect,” Lucifer replied.

Adam looked at him incredulously. “And you think I didn’t.”

“I think you were reckless. I told you how dangerous they were, and yet you kept going after Vox.”

“I was the sheriff, Lucifer. it was my job to protect this town. And that job cost me everything. What was I supposed to do? Lie down and take it? Let them send everyone running scared in their homes while I turned a blind eye?” Adam replied, each word spoken with more anger and spite than the last. “Like you did.”

Lucifer was quiet for a few moments.

“At least my family is still alive.”

Adam curled his hand into a fist. He swung his hand, aimed straight for Lucifer’s jaw. Lute waited for the sound of the impact, but it never came. Instead, Adam’s fist remained frozen in the air just an inch from colliding with Lucifer’s face. To his credit, Lucifer stood with his head held high, eyes closed, as he waited for the punch.

When the punch never happened, he opened his eyes slowly, taking a deep swallow as he saw the punch mere inches from his face.

“What did you come here for, Adam?” He asked slowly. Adam lowered his fist, fire burning in his eyes.

“Guns.”

Lucifer held his gaze for a few moments before tipping his hat at Adam. “You know where they are.”

Adam nodded and walked through the doorway closest to him. The women looked at each other as the silence of the room grew awkward with each passing second. He reemerged minutes later with two rifles and two pistols. His pockets jingled as he walked, presumably full of ammunition.

“You want anything for them, Luci?”

Lucifer shook his head. “No, just take them and don’t come back.”

“But dad—,” Charlie protested.

“It’s not safe while they’re here. You’re not safe.” Lucifer said, turning towards Charlie with a somber look. Adam nodded towards Lute, motioning for them to leave.

Lute made to head towards Adam, but was stopped by a hand grabbing her arm. She looked to see Vaggie staring at her with concern.

“Lute, are you sure you want to do this?”

“I’m sure, Vaggie.” Her resolve was rock solid on the outside.

“Don’t get yourself killed.”

“You know I don’t make promises I can’t keep,” Lute answered back, her mouth pulled into a wry smile. Vaggie shook her head at Lute’s non-answer. The meaning was clear, though: no promises on making out alive.

Lute found herself uncharacteristically pulled into a hug by Vaggie. And she found herself uncharacteristically gripping the woman back tightly. Vaggie looked over at Lute’s shoulder at Adam, her stare intense.

“You keep her safe. Because if you don’t, I will track you down and kill you myself.” She said, her voice deadly.

Adam regarded her with something close to respect. He answered in the same grave manner as she. “I’ll hold you to it.”

Vaggie nodded slightly and released Lute from her grip. She awkwardly looked back at Charlie before stepping back and grabbing the taller woman’s hand.

“Be safe, Lute.” Was all Charlie said, the blonde woman strangely quiet. “You too, Uncle Adam.”

“Thanks, Char.” He replied, sending her a genuine smile. He handed Lute a rifle and pistol. He gave one last nod to Lucifer. Lucifer didn’t acknowledge Adam; his gaze instead focused on Lute. He had a somber look that left her ill at ease.

He looked as though he wished to say something. She stared at him for a few moments, but was met with silence. She and Adam brushed past him.

“I always go with a light starch on that shirt,” Lucifer said as they were halfway out the door. It was an utterly absurd thing to say, and yet Lute appreciated it all the same. And so she turned back to look at him and nodded in acknowledgement before both she and Adam left the Morningstar house, weighed down with guns.

Once Lute and Adam had loaded up the horses with their newly acquired weapons, they set out towards town. Adam was pensive as they continued on the main road, their faces and identifying features covered by their hats and bandanas.

“Where to next?” Lute asked, desperate to break up the silence. Silence and Adam were not two things that went together, and she found she much preferred his teasing nature to his moments of silent reflection. He glanced over at her.

“We’re gonna go meet up with another old friend of mine.”

Lute narrowed her eyes and scoffed. “I’m starting to get suspicious of what you consider an ‘old friend’.”

“This one owes me a favor. Besides, he might not pull a knife on me.”

“Might?”

Adam laughed and winked at her, broken from his reflective spell. “Doesn’t that word keep life interesting, Sweetheart?”

If she had been asked a week ago, she would have answered with a resounding ‘no’. As it stood now, Lute found herself flying by the seat of her pants on the wings of the words ‘might’ and ‘maybe’. It was exhilarating and terrifying all at once.

The pair shuffled into town, most people paying them no mind. It was better not to draw attention to yourself, lest a Regulator or two grow curious. The hour was growing late, however, and so Lute guessed most of them were getting drunk at Valentino’s saloon. That alternative was no better in her mind; a drunk man with a gun and an inflated sense of purpose tended to be a dangerous man.

It was a shame, really, the way the reds and oranges in the sky painted such a beautiful picture as the day died around them. Most citizens were too nervous to venture out to enjoy it.

Lute spared a glance at Miss Sera’s as it stood as a pillar near the middle of town. Various children played outside, all of whom knew Lute very well. She found herself pulling her bandana closer to her face.

Adam led them to a saloon that Lute knew of but had never ventured into. It wasn’t owned by Vox, that much Lute was sure. He hopped down from Dick and tied him and Horse to the post in front of the establishment. Lute swung her leg over the saddle, intending to jump down from Horse. She was stopped by Adam, who was standing there waiting for her.

She sent him an odd look but said nothing as he placed his hands around her waist and pulled her down off the saddle. This was becoming something akin to a habit or expectation. Lute didn’t find herself minding.

The saloon was rather empty despite it being late in the afternoon, the light already beginning to die outside. No one lingered outside the way they did in front of the saloon owned by Valentino. Yet, the lively sound of someone playing the piano and singing a warm melody could be heard. The contrast of the two was rather jarring.

She followed Adam inside, keeping her head down to escape notice. The sweet smell of tobacco drifted through the air, giving the saloon a warmth it was lacking due to the lack of patrons. Aside from the piano player and bartender, only two barflies took up residence.

The pair came upon the bar. Lute could see the way Adam’s shoulders tensed ever so slightly as he grew closer to the bar. Adam held his left hand in his trouser pocket, so that it pushed back his duster just enough to show off the holster of his pistol. Lute glanced down at Adam’s movements and made to follow, though one look from Adam stopped her in her tracks.

He leaned against the bar with an all-too-familiar stance. Lute hung back behind him, just enough to be obscured by his towering frame.

Adam tapped his fingers down on the bar. The bartender did not look at them. “Two whiskeys.”

The bartender was a rather gruff-looking man with dark skin and bright green eyes. He polished a glass with a towel, with a bored expression on his face. The bartender gave him no indication that he heard, or cared, apart from the slow movements towards the rocks glasses on the bar.

Adam glanced at Lute and placed his right hand on her waist, pulling her in front of him so that she stood between him and the bar. His body heat radiated against her back as he fished out two coins from his pocket, adjusting his hips ever so slightly (and pressing them against her further) as he dug around.

He threw the coins on the bar and resumed his stance with fingers itching towards his gun. The bartender hardly regarded them, though Lute caught the subtle look the older man made towards Adam’s holster. A pensive look crossed the bartender’s face before he shook his head and resumed pouring the whiskey. He placed the two glasses down in front of them, snatching the coins as if they burned him. He turned towards the register.

“As ornery as ever, Husk,” Adam said. Lute could feel her breath catch in her throat. The bartender, Husk, stood still, the coins threatening to fall from his grasp. She held her breath for what felt like hours. Finally, Husk shook his head and dropped the coins into the register, the noise making an eerily discordant note with the otherwise upbeat piano. Husk turned to them, his green eyes narrowed.

“I thought that gun looked familiar,” Husk said. He dropped his voice low and leaned in close. “I thought you were dead, Sheriff.”

“I am dead,” Adam replied, pulling down the bandana under his chin to reveal a small grin on his face. Husk eyed him slowly, blinking like a judging feline. Lute looked at Adam with wide eyes as she took in his recklessness.

“You got a funny way of showing it,” Husk said after a few moments of silence. “Never heard a dead man talk so much.”

Adam smirked and grabbed one of the rocks glasses. He swirled it around in his hand, the amber liquid threatening to spill out. Husk shook his head and turned his attention to Lute, his green eyes staring into her soul.

“You look familiar. I’ve seen you before.”

Lute shook her head. The bartender, Husk, was wholly unfamiliar to her. However, she hadn’t made much of an effort to go out of her way to interact with people in town. Charlie, in her overwhelmingly kind way, had more than once implied that she and Vaggie could be a tad standoffish. Lute just hadn’t seen the need to grow her circle of friends and acquaintances.

“You’re one of Miss Sera’s girls.” Lute felt her hand twitch around the hilt of the gun at her waist. The movement was small but enough to catch the older man’s perceptive vision. It unnerved her, the way he seemed to notice the world like a cat in the trees. Adam stopped swirling the glass. The liquid dripped back down the sides of the glass.

Husk smirked. “Or not, makes no difference to me.”

“Though word on the street is that one of those girls tried to off Valentino. A girl with white hair.” Husk stared at the pale strands that Lute had not tucked into her hat or bandana properly. Adam tensed beside her, a firm arm grabbing her waist as if to throw her on his shoulder and run if worst comes to worst. He glanced between her and Adam before chuckling to himself. “Not that I’d know anything about that. Son of a bitch had it coming.”

Lute felt Adam relax at Husk’s words, though his hand remained firm against her waist, his fingers digging into her hip bone.

“You know, I’ve never heard the one about a dead man walking into a bar,” Husk said, glancing over at the piano before his eyes traveled back to Adam and Lute. “You’ve got to be some kind of stupid to come waltzing into town like that.”

“Well, you always told me I’d be welcome in your saloon.”

“I only told you that to keep from shutting down the gambling.”

Adam shrugged. He looked down at Lute and winked, his fingers twitching against her waist. “Why shut down something I liked to enjoy from time to time?”

Husk snorted and shook his head. “Besides, it ain’t my saloon no more.”

Husk nodded his head towards the source of the lively music. A man, maybe only a few years younger than himself, sat at the piano and played, his slender fingers tapping at the keys with a practiced precision. A dark red frock coat splayed behind him like a waterfall, with a brown waistcoat to match.

“That’s Alastor Dauphin. He’s a businessman from New Orleans.” Husk said, his voice low. He glanced between Adam and Lute. “Blew into town about seven years ago. Slowly but surely, he’s been buying up businesses left and right.”

“He’s a bit of a dandy, isn’t he?” Adam asked, leaning over the bar like he owned it. Husk’s eyes flashed with something Lute couldn’t recognize that sent a chill down her spine. Even she had heard of Alastor Dauphin, and while he didn’t outwardly cause the town grief like Valentino and Vox, he still set her teeth on edge.

“He’s the only one giving Vox any real grief,” Husk replied carefully. Adam nodded slowly, a disbelieving ‘hmm’ leaving his lips. His tongue pushed against his cheek as if trying to keep his word from escaping his mouth. He grabbed the whiskey glass and raised it to his lips, the amber liquid disappearing in a single gulp.

“Heard Vox was sheriff now,” Adam said, whiskey-kissed lips pursed. Lute remained quiet, staring at Adam with a look of caution.

“Sheriff, Judge, and Jury,” Husk answered quietly.

“And executioner,” Adam said.

The keys of the piano stopped. Husk flinched at the loss of noise and ducked his head, making himself busy wiping a glass.

“Vox doesn't like to dirty his hands if he can help it,” Alastor Dauphin said, his accent unfamiliar to Lute but possessing a slight melodic quality. As if the music of the piano never stopped. “It takes a certain kind of man to enter a place of establishment and start spreading slander the way you've felt comfortable doing.”

“Some might call him a brave man,” Adam countered. Alastor stared at him, cocking his head to the side ever-so-slightly.

“Or a fool.”

“Or a deadman,” Husk muttered under his breath. Alastor spared a glance at Husk, who bowed his head down.

“And what would you call him?” Adam asked.

Alastor grinned, a wicked thing that made his otherwise handsome face look downright gruesome. “An interesting game piece, to be sure.”

“We’re not here for games,” Lute said, her voice low and hard. Alastor looked towards her, as if seeing her for the first time. His eyes searched her, looking her up and down until his eyes narrowed in on her face.

He reached a hand out towards a lock of her pale hair, but was stopped by Adam striking his hand out, abruptly encircling Alastor’s wrist. He placed a firm grip on the man’s wrist, so tight Lute feared he might try and break it in half. That same hand that just moments earlier gripped her waist like that of a lover.

Lute could feel her breath catch. Adam’s gaze was downright murderous . She had no doubt in her mind that he was capable of killing in cold blood if he so wished.

“Try and touch her again, and I’ll kill you myself.”

Alastor regarded Adam with a look before he dropped his hand and rubbed it against his clothes as if to wipe the grime of Adam from himself. He narrowed his eyes at Adam, taking him in. Adam dropped his hand so that it covered Lute, as if protecting her from Alastor.

“A fool, indeed,” He remarked after a few moments of agonizing silence. Alastor turned to Husk with an easy smile that would have put most people at ease. It did the opposite for Husk. “Trying to harbor outlaws in my saloon, hm, Husk?’

Husk shook his head quickly, eyes wide. “N-no.”

Alastor laughed, a high-pitched sound that grated on Adam’s ears. He’d never seen Husk so frightened before, even when staring down the barrel of the gun. But this man, Alastor, left Husk practically shaking with fear. He knew this man was not someone he should cross.

But the way he had thought he could simply reach out and touch Lute set Adam on edge. Recklessness and diving headfirst into danger had always been Adam’s way. Why would now be any different?

Except that Adam was an older man now and knew the dangers that would befall those in his care if he thought only of himself. So instead of pulling out his gun and aiming it point-blank at Alastor Dauphin’s face, he raised his hands near his head, palms stretched out wide.

“We were just looking for a place to stay for a few nights, and I thought Husk still owned the saloon. We’re not looking for trouble from you.”

“But you are looking for trouble, yes?”

“Justice,” Lute corrected.

Alastor regarded her for a moment before shaking as though the thought was absurd. “You won’t find that here. Especially not with someone as méprisable as Vox in town.”

“And if he were no longer a concern?” Lute asked slowly.

“Then I believe the word you’re looking for would be vengeance, sha .”

Lute opened her mouth but was abruptly cut off by the sound of a loud whistle ringing out in the air. She turned to see a short woman in a maid’s uniform at the top of the stairs towards the back of the saloon.

“Speak of the devil, and so he appears,” Alastor said with a sigh. “It seems your vengeance is almost at my doorstep. Merci , Niffty.”

The woman giggled in response before rushing back up the stairs. Lute looked at Adam with wide eyes.

“He can’t see us. Not now.”

“Especially not you,” Adam said, resting his hands on her shoulders so that his thumbs brushed against her collarbones. He pushed her hair back firmly behind her ears to keep that damning pallor from being seen.

Husk motioned his hand towards Lute, waving her towards him. “That’s not gonna be enough, Adam. Girl, get behind the bar and keep your hat on.”

She looked towards Adam, who nodded affirmatively. Lute followed Husk’s motions and found herself crouched on the shockingly clean floors behind the bar. While her cover would be blown if anyone peered over the bar, it at least bought them a little bit of time to prepare. She grabbed the gun from her rope belt and held it close to her chest.

At the same time, Adam pulled his bandana over his face, leaving only his worn, brown eyes visible. He leaned over the bar, trying to assume a practiced casualness that could fool someone like Vox (though from what Adam remembered, perhaps that wouldn’t be a hard thing to do at all. The light of his ego constantly blinded him.).

A piece of Adam didn’t trust Alastor not to blow their cover. Another part told him that Alastor considered him and Lute to be nothing more than game pieces on a board; if Alastor was smart, which Adam assumed him to be, he would keep those pieces close to his chest until the time was right.

Adam did not have long to contemplate Alastor’s motive before the man who had haunted his nightmares strode through the swinging doors of the saloon as though he owned the place. Vox had his hair perfectly oiled and pulled back, just as Adam remembered. He wore a velvet blue suit, not a detail out of place. He was relatively untouched by time, though he had more lines sunk into his face than Adam remembered him having. He walked with a confident swagger, king of the whole of Heaven’s Gate.

“Alastor!” Vox exclaimed, palms outstretched with a feigned enthusiasm in his voice. “Haven’t decided to give up on this old place yet?”

Alastor, to his credit, simply smiled at the man. His silence ate at Vox with every passing second of no response. Husk kept his head down, focusing intensely at the glass he polished. Adam could see Vox’s eyebrow twitch out of the corner of his eye. It sent him a sliver of satisfaction.

Vox turned his attention around the saloon, his eyes glazing over those he knew to frequent the saloon. Instead, his eyes locked onto Adam’s back. A traveler who, in Vox’s mind, had made a poor choice in picking an establishment to spend his evening. He walked over to Adam, his shoulder brushing against Alastor (causing him to narrow his eyes dangerously).

“You know, I have an establishment just down the road. A bit more lively than this one here,” Vox said, patting Adam on the shoulder. Adam looked up, brown eyes meeting blue. He breathed heavily beneath the bandana.

Vox looked him up and down, his eyes getting caught on the hole in Adam’s hat that Lute had shot only a few days earlier. He rethought his initial assessment. “Though, by the state of you, maybe shabbiness is what you’re looking for.”

He squeezed Adam’s shoulder and turned his attention back to Alastor, who stared at him with an unwavering grin. He was like a predator, baring his teeth to his adversary. “Right, Alastor?”

“Couillon sois,” Alastor replied, his voice slow and low. Vox smirked at him, lips pursed. He pulled out a cigar and pressed it to his lips.

“I don’t ever tire of that sweet French, Monsieur Dauphin,” Vox practically purred, elongating the French word in a way that Lute knew had to be incorrect. Vox gripped the cigar between his teeth and grabbed a matchbook from his pocket. He struck the match, his eyes never leaving Alastor’s.

Vox breathed in the sweet tobacco as the flames kissed the foot of the cigar. He shook the match to extinguish it and dropped it from his grip, the smoke leaving a trail on its descent. Or it would have had Alastor not reached his hand out in quick motion, and caught the match, the still-hot wood burning into his palm.

“How uncivilized, Sheriff. No wonder the town’s in such dire need of those Regulators you keep. Someone’s gotta keep that law and order you spend your time boasting about.“

Vox narrowed his eyes, lowering the cigar from his lips.

“I ought to arrest you, Dauphin.”

“For preventing further, what is it you said? Shabbiness?” Alastor replied, feigning ignorance.

“For insulting a man of the law,” Vox replied, motioning towards the shiny Sheriff’s badge on his chest.

“If I see one, I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.”

In a swift motion, Vox reached his unoccupied hand down to his holster, sheriff’s badge gleaming in the glow of the candles around the bar. He wrapped his hand around the grip of the gun, threatening to pull it out and train it at Alastor.

The clicking sound of a hammer stopped him in his tracks. The smoke from the cigar wrapped around his hand, ash falling to the ground. He looked up to see two revolvers trained at him, one in the hand of Alastor and the other in the hand of Adam.

Alastor grinned, his thumb on the hammer of the gun. He glanced at Adam, who mirrored his stance.

“You aren’t gonna shoot me, Alastor,” Vox said, though he glanced at Adam in a less-than-confident manner.

Alastor shrugged, gun still trained at Vox’s chest. “Who’s to say, mon ami ? I cannot speak to my newest friend’s disposition. Though I would hate to see your blood stain the wood.”

Alastor glanced over at Adam and laughed. “Fortunately, I’ve got a little maid whose spécialité is cleaning stains.”

Vox’s fingers twitched at the grip of his gun. The bar was silent as if all occupants were waiting with bated breath.

There was a history there, to be sure, one that Lute imagined to be just as full of tension and violence as the scene she witnessed only moments earlier. Though she couldn’t see the scene happening beside her, she could hear it. And she so desperately hoped Adam kept his mouth shut.

Vox laughed uncomfortably, raising his hands in the air. He began to back away towards the door of the saloon. “You better watch yourself, Dauphin.”

Alastor simply shrugged, gun still pointed at Vox. Vox scowled and pointed a finger towards Adam. “You best learn how we do things around here or you won’t be here for long.”

Adam wanted to rip off the bandana. Expose his face to Vox and kill the son of a bitch where he stood. But the thought of the white-haired girl hiding behind the counter stopped him in his tracks. He had to keep her safe.

Starting an impromptu stand-off in a saloon would not accomplish that goal.

So instead, Adam kept his revolver trained on Vox. “I never was a good student at the schoolhouse.”

Vox stared at Adam with a glimmer of recognition at his tone. Adam feared for a moment that he’d revealed himself too early and put Lute in danger.

But then Vox shook his head and scoffed. He spat on the floor close to the door and made his exit, slamming the swinging doors as he left.

The saloon was quiet for a few moments as all the occupants found themselves existing in the newfound tension. Alastor and Adam lowered their guns. Husk offered Lute a hand to help her up from the floor, which she took graciously. She rose from the floor cautiously, as though she didn’t trust that Vox was gone.

Adam grabbed her hand and guided her around the bar, his hand once again not leaving her waist. He pulled down his bandana, an action that made Lute feel comfortable doing the same.

“A lagniappe for my newest acquaintances,” Alastor said, ripping the bottle Husk had just picked up from his hands. Husk stood silently as Alastor poured amber liquid into two shot glasses. He pushed the glasses towards Adam and Lute before pouring himself a third.

“I take it the two of you returned to town with a plan, non ?” Alastor asked, taking a sip of the whiskey. Adam mirrored the motion. “Especially since you speak and act so freely. Did it not feel liberating to have your gun trained so perfectly on Vox’s chest?”

“We’re looking for allies,” Adam answered. Alastor shot him a strange look as he set the rocks glass on the counter. Lute found herself grabbing the glass in front of her, bringing it to her nose. The smell burned her nostrils and down her throat, but still she forced herself to take a small sip.

“Allies? Let’s see, there's the dead man, the woman, and the gambling old drunk,” Alastor responded, counting on his fingers to make an exaggerated show of the list. “Not the most promising start.”

“You know who I am?”

“I suspected. You confirmed,” Alastor shrugged and took another sip of the whiskey.

“I’ve not agreed to anything,” Husk added with a gruff tone. Alastor regarded him for a moment before closing one of his fingers.

“Then we’re back to the dead man and the woman.” Alastor continued.

“Perhaps a Frenchman?” Lute said, taking another sip and forcing herself not to grimace. Alastor raised an eyebrow at her.

“Not without proof of more than just the two of you.”

“So you would be willing to help us?” Lute pressed, staring at Alastor with a steely resolve. Adam squeezed her hip as if giving her strength.

“I could be convinced to entertain such an idea,” Alastor responded, pursing his lips. “Vox and his sycophants are terrible for business.”

“Husk?” Adam asked, looking towards the bartender who had continued to make himself busy polishing glasses. Husk regarded him for a moment before he opened his mouth.

He was promptly cut off by Alastor. “Husk follows what I decide.”

Adam narrowed his eyes but could not argue with Alastor. Husk bowed his head once more.

“In the meantime, you both are more than welcome to stay here while you prove to me that you are a good bet,” Alastor said. Adam found he did not like the way the man continued to grin that unnerving smile as he spoke. “For a fee, of course.”

“Of course,” Adam replied, having to restrain himself from rolling his eyes.

“Then it's settled. Niffty!” Alastor called, clapping his hands. The short woman who had signaled them of Vox’s presence earlier skipped down the stairs. Niffty’s eyes sparkled as she looked at Adam with a certain reverence, taking in his bandana, duster, and the way the gun hung in his holster.

“An outlaw,” Niffy breathed, her eyes darting up and down Adam’s form. Lute found herself scowling.

“Niffty, these are our guests for the evening. I trust you can show them to a room upstairs?”

Niffty only giggled in response, placing her arm in the crook of Adam’s elbow. Lute found herself fuming.

The pair followed Niffty up the stairs to one of the rooms that was clean, if not a bit dated. Inside, there was a bed, tub, desk, and chair with bare decor. Lute found her eyes fixed on the single bed in the room.

They had already slept with their bodies snuggled against each other on the ground, for survival of course. But this was different. The implication of a bed made all the difference (for what elements could she justify trying to survive against in here?). Lute could feel butterflies flutter in her stomach. She awkwardly looked around the room, crossing her arms as she took in the rest of the space.

Niffty removed her arm from Adam’s elbow and winked at the man. He looked at her with amusement before looking at Lute.

“Call me if you need me, Outlaw,” Niffty said, sighing as she spoke. She regarded Lute for the first time that day. “You too, Lady.”

Lute shot daggers at the door with her eyes once Niffty had exited the room. Adam must have noticed her expression as he laughed while he hung his duster on the chair.

“Don’t tell me you’re jealous?”

“I’m not,” She replied, turning her face away from him. Adam bit his lip in amusement as he grabbed her chin and gently turned her head to face him. He pulled the hat from her head, letting the white strands frame her face.

“Anyone could see how green you are from a mile away,” He pestered.

“You don’t have to tease me.”

“I don’t know darlin’, teasing you has quickly become one of my favorite pastimes,” He replied, lowering his face closer to hers. “Besides, there’s nothing for you to be jealous about.”

“Is that right?” She breathed out, not trusting herself to speak more than necessary.

“Want me to prove it?”

Lute sucked in a breath of air, breathing in his overwhelming scent of pure man that seemed to render her more intoxicated than the whiskey she forced herself to drink. He smelled of the outside and dust and whiskey and tobacco; all the things that lulled her into a deep sense of security and arousal.

His face was so close to hers. His body was not close enough. She could feel the heat radiating off of him as he seemed to dominate all her senses.

His nose rubbed against hers, the hair of his beard tickling around her jaw like tiny kisses. Their foreheads touched softly through the motion. Lute found herself breathing in his air and exhaling her own, as though they were one set of lungs functioning in perfect harmony.

His lips were so close to her own, she found herself almost salivating at the thought. She wrapped around his neck slowly, cautiously, pulling the hat off his head to give her better access to all of him .

They stayed there for a few agonizing moments, frozen in time as the anticipation took over. And then his lips met hers and——

A shot rang out, booming across the town as it fired through the streets.

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devastatedloyallute · 2 months ago

Text

Babe, wake up, new SATS chapter dropped!

Staring at the Sun / Adam x Lute Chapter 17 (MAMMON'S FUN-HOUSE SPECTACULAR)

Summary: After the battle, Lute attempts to flee with Adam. They find themselves unable to return to Heaven and must adjust to life in Hell.

AN: BEHOLD THIS BEAUTIFUL IMAGE THAT @devastatedloyallute HAS CREATED FOR THIS CHAPTER OH MY GOD!!

Warnings: 18+, Graphic depictions of violence, Blood and Gore, Cursing, dubious consent/non-con if you squint, sexual themes

AO3

Chapter 16

“Ay fuckers, don’t turn that dial because behind this curtain, I’ve got a real, genuine angel! Or he fucking was before he fell.” Mammon announced, laughing at the camera. The bells on his jester hat shook and let out a high-pitched jingle when he moved his head around. He grinned at the camera, his smile wide like a loan shark’s.

“Now I know you fuckers in all the other rings don’t give a shit’s ass about Heaven and thinking ‘Mammon why you showing this fucking angel’ but this cunt’s important I promise. He was the first human soul in Heaven. And now he’s been cast down here to spend the rest of his days with you fucks. ” Mammon continued, gesturing outside the camera’s view at the audience behind. Though he had not managed to pack the bleachers with patrons, he knew they would be arriving soon once word had gotten out about his most ambitious get-rich-quick scheme yet. In the meantime, his Robo-Fizzes filled in the chairs and made the sound stage look more packed with an audience than it was.

“Now, I’m gonna let you all in on a little secret. This angel here is in competition in each ring. I don’t know why the other sins have deprived you guys?” Mammon said, leaning in close to the camera. He feigned innocence, as much as could be believable for a Sin like Mammon. His dead eyes were wide with faux-sympathy. “But you can always trust Mammon to keep well informed, for the right price, of course.”

The audience roared. Or rather, the Robo-Fizzes roared and gave the actual patrons menacing glares with narrowed red eyes until they got the message to clap and cheer. Mammon took the cheers in stride, basking in the limelight.

“Now, for the low, low price of just $100, you can get my special streaming service just for this event: Mammon’s Fun House Spectacular! Watch this fucker survive a night in my fun house!” Mammon exclaimed, cackling as the camera focused upon him. He gestured towards the curtain behind him, which began to lift and reveal the entrance to a fun house. It was similar to the attraction in Loo Loo Land, but instead of the caricature of Lucifer’s face at the entrance, it was Mammon’s, sporting a wide, close-mouth grin.

Mammon clapped his hands, and the entrance mouth began to open, dark smoke billowing through as though the mouth of a dragon. Mammon grinned as he took in the sight of what might be his greatest attraction. He glanced at the audience, those who weren’t his personal robots, and noticed the curious, bright eyes as they took in the attraction.

A figure stood in the middle of the mouth entrance, their hands shackled with chains that held them pinned down on their knees. Their eyes were brown, though they flashed golden the more the figure thrashed against the chains. He was gagged with colorful cloth similar to the kind a magician would swallow for an illusion.

“Let me have the displeasure of introducing you all to the first fucking human man, Adam! Former Exorcist Angel that wreaked havoc on the Pride Sinners before he got taken out by a 3-foot housemaid!” Mammon exclaimed, gesturing to a television monitor on the side stage which began to replay the moment Adam was stabbed by Niffty on a loop.

Adam could feel the sharp pain of the scar on his back, striking through, almost as fresh as the day he had been stabbed. He thrashed against the chains, screaming like a drowning victim unable to be heard.

He would rather redo every other trial than face whatever Mammon had in store. At least with the other Sins, he could trust that their trials stayed in the bounds of their Sins. The punishment and challenge fit the crime and vice. Mammon didn’t give a shit about any of that. Mammon’s concern was how much money he could steal from the pockets of his patrons, at the price of Adam. At the price of Hell.

Adam looked out into the blinding stage lights and could only hear the jeers and laughs of the audience.

Adam, the First Man.

Adam, the Head Exorcist.

Adam, the Fool.

He continued to scream and thrash, but not a sound could be heard.

Lute was sweating when she woke the next morning. She could tell she had slept in later than usual by the way her body felt sluggish from oversleep. The Eggs had shifted and cuddled around her, followed by Keekee who curled her entire body around one of the Eggs like a nest. Her hair clung to her forehead and the back of her neck in an unpleasant way. She felt as though she were in desperate need of a shower.

Of course, as was her luck, a shower was far from her reach.

A sharp knock on the door roused her from her thoughts followed by Cherri yelling, “Bitch, you better get your ass out bed. It’s fucking urgent.”

Lute shot up, disturbing the Eggs and Keekee, all of whom glared at her with sleepy eyes. She ignored them and rose from the bed, immediately aware of how off balance she felt. She’d just gotten accustomed to the weight of her metallic arm. Where its comforting weight once hung, now left her with phantom pains and a sense of loss.

“Cherri, what’s going on?” She yelled back as she crossed the room to unlock the door. She opened it to Cherri who held out her hellphone mere inches from Lute’s face. Cherri began to speak but Lute heard nothing but distant voices and white noise.

On the screen was Adam. He was chained to the floor, but his wrists and ankles, forcing him on his knees in an uncomfortable looking position. His mouth was gagged. He thrashed against the restraints, like a muzzled dog. His eyes were bright with rage.

“What the fuck is this?” Lute asked, her voice low. Dangerous. Cherri lowered the phone and looked at her with a wary look, her eye large with concern. Lute’s eyes never left Cherri’s screen.

“It’s trending all over Sinstagram. Mammon started a live stream a few minutes ago,” Cherri said, tripping over her words in an uncharacteristic manner due to the sheer intensity radiating off of Lute.

“This is happening in real time?”

Cherri nodded. Lute’s eyes never left the screen as she took in the sight of her beloved leader. Beloved friend. Beloved…something…chained and muzzled like a dog.

The live stream ended, leaving only a black screen with Mammon’s face grinning back at Lute with greed and spite. Lute’s eyes widened, and she looked between Cherri and the phone. She snatched the phone from Cherri’s hands.

“It turned off! How do we get it back?’ Lute asked, clawing at the phone with desperation. “We have to get it back.”

“Lute, babe, take a second and fucking breathe.”

“I can’t breathe.” She repeated, her eyes looking down in disbelief, large and golden. She shook her head, thoughts racing. His breath began to quicken, coming out in desperate pants. Her mouth dried, words drying with it. “I can’t breathe.”

“Cherri!” Angel said, calling down the hall as he rushed to Lute’s room. “Did you find—.”

Angel’s words were cut off by the sight of Lute in what seemed to be a full panic. His eyes met Cherri’s, who seemed fully unequipped to handle an Exorcist on the verge of a breakdown.

Angel did the only thing he could think of.

He screamed.

A loud, blood-curdling sound that could put the Wilhelm scream to shame.

Cherri and Lute looked at Angel with such horror that he felt a tinge of pride at how his acting skills managed to render a room of panic speechless. Keekee and the Eggs fled the room, the sound too high-pitched for their delicate ears.

“What the actual fuck Angel!” Lute screamed back, her breath beginning to even.

“It got you to fucking stop and take a breath didn’t it?!”

“I–.”

Angel grabbed her by the shoulders. “Lute, you need to keep taking breaths, honey. There is nothing you can do for your boy toy right now, and sending yourself into a panic ain’t gonna help nobody.’

He looked to Cherri, who nodded. “He’s right, Lute.”

“But—” Lute started, but was promptly shushed by a pink, gloved finger on her lips.

“Charlie’s already setting up Mammon’s streaming service downstairs. You’ll get to see him. And fuck, we’ll let you go down there with your screws loose if you insist but I don’t think you wanna do that, right?”

Lute breathed. In and out. In and out. In and out. She nodded and looked between Angel and Cherri.

(Had any of her sisters in Heaven cared for her in such a way? Had she ever considered in her past life that Sinners were capable of such kindness? Such goodness? In Heaven, she would have hidden herself away, never allowed her emotions to seep through the cracks. Heaven didn’t want to see emotion. Panic. Rage. Ecstasy. Heaven wanted tranquility at any cost.)

Lute nodded and, with a quiet voice, said, “You’re right.”

Angel looked between her and Cherri, a tentative grin on his face. “I’m always fucking right. It’s about time you two start realizing it.”

Cherri punched him in the arm, leading to an indignant yelp and discarded ‘hey what the fuck’ at Cherri who only shrugged in response. Lute between the two sinners, her friends, and nodded again.

“Let’s head downstairs.”

When the trio made it downstairs, they were greeted by the sight of the of the hotel crew, sans Alastor, huddled in front of the television set in parlour area of the lobby. Nifty had taken it upon herself to make popcorn mixed with chocolate candies that she offered to the group (though upon closer inspection, Lute realized the candies looked a tad too similar to roach legs). She sat huddled against Husk on the loveseat, kicking her legs like a toddler excited for their first movie.

“Has it started yet?” Angel asked as they settled into the couch. Lute found herself placed between Angel and Cherri, both a tad closer than she wished. She could feel herself trying to self-isolate, like a wounded animal running off to die alone. She felt vulnerable and exposed; whether that be due to Adam’s digital presence or her lack of arm (or both), she couldn’t tell.

Charlie pried her eyes from the television and looked at the three of them, a pitying glance crossing her face as she looked at Lute, though it quickly dissipated. “Not yet, Uncle Mammon’s still begging for streams, but I think he’s about to start the actual event soon.”

“That thing is not your uncle!” Lucifer yelled from across the hotel. He entered the parlour in a huff, his appearance more disheveled than Lute remembered it being in the last few weeks. He had forgone his white jacket and top hat, wearing only his red and white button-down with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Pieces of hair hung limply in his eyes, which sported dark circles.

Charlie winced and dropped her voice low. “Dad’s still mad about the whole Loo Loo Land/Lu Lu World lawsuit.”

Lute didn’t know what a Lu Lu Land was, but she found herself experiencing a small rush of satisfaction at Lucifer’s irritation. (Serves him right for freezing the way he did in front of Vox). She suspected that interaction had something to do with his less-than-perfect appearance. Instead of sitting, he chose to pace behind the couches with his hands firmly in his pockets.

“I think it's starting!” Vaggie said, grabbing the remote and turning up the volume. Lute felt her mouth run dry as she took in the screen ahead.

The television showed the same sickening image of Adam chained and thrashing. Spotlights shone on him, melting the appearance of a fun house away. The camera gave a close-up on his face, and Lute felt herself take in a sharp breath.

He still looked like Adam, though his brown eyes were something of a foreign land to her. Like a stranger she could swear she had met before. Dark circles created shadows under his eyes. His otherwise boyish face looked more slender than she recalled; it had an almost gaunt like look to it. It had only been a few days since the beginning of the trials, but Adam looked as though he had lived a few decades since the last time she had seen him.

“Are you fuckers ready to get this show on the road?” Mammon announced, the bells on his jester hat jingling as he fluttered around the stage like the fool he was. The crowd roared in response. Lute could feel bile rising into her throat, threatening to escape. She bit her lips, forcing the revulsion down.

The opening to the funhouse, in which Adam was chained to the tongue, began to close. Smoke billowed from the eyes and nostrils of the crude rendition of Mammon’s face. Lute felt her eyes grow wide as their view of Adam decreased.

The mouth of the funhouse snapped closed, as if to swallow Adam with its gaping maw. The screen stayed focused on that close mouth for a few seconds, which felt like a lifetime to Lute. Mammon stood triumphantly beside the entrance to the fun house, cackling at the sight and roar of the crowd.

And then, a blink.

The camera shot changed to show Adam, inside the mouth of the fun house, angled as though they were viewing him from a hidden camera. He was unharmed, if not a tad shaken. The clasps of the chains opened, as if on cue. Adam hastily removed the gag from his mouth, coughing as the colorful drowning cloth finally let him breathe.

He rubbed at his wrists, dark bruises already beginning to form from struggling against the shackles. She watched him take in his surroundings, his look more thoughtful than she could remember him having in the past.

He took in a deep breath as he stared down the throat of the funhouse. Lute was taken back to the time she had accidentally been privy to the weekly tales of Jonah in Heaven (who was a bit of a snob but someone Adam liked to preen in front of if he’d had too many beers) and his experience with the whale. She wondered if Adam thought the same.

“Let’s fucking do this,” He whispered, almost too soft for the camera to pick up. Lute nodded, as though he could see her. As though he knew she was there supporting him in the only way she could.

If only Jonah could see him now, Adam thought, as he stared into the dark abyss at the mouth of the funhouse.

Adam stared down the mouth of the fun house and grimaced. He knew Mammon likely had cameras all around the place to capture his every emotion. He wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of fear or anger or anything (this, of course, was a lie. Without his mask, it was difficult not to wear his feelings on his face. That had been the beauty of the masks, right?).

The lights flickered ahead, beckoning him down the dim hallway. Low circus music could be heard through the hallways. Mammon had always been a sick fuck, even as an angel, and so he knew to expect the unexpected. Something that would make him a quick buck for little money. Whatever gags Mammon pulled would be simple and cheap, but effective.

Adam began to walk forward slowly, his gait unsteady after being forced on his knees for so long. His knees ached the way they did when he was old man after years of toiling the earth. He felt caught in an awkward existence, something between a divine being and a mundane human. Neither felt true to him.

The circus music began to grow louder as he continued on. The lights flickered more erratically. He could feel eyes following him as he moved, though the walls betrayed no secrets. Up ahead, he could see something mechanically moving. He pressed on.

On closer inspection, the mechanical movement belonged to a cylindrical wall. It rolled at a steady pace like a barrel down a hill. He scoffed to himself. There was no way Mammon was making it this easy right out of the gate, right?

He looked ahead through the barrel wall and could see light at the end of the tunnel in the distance. Children had managed to walk through these things on earth. Of course, he would have no trouble.

But of course, a task too easy would not make Mammon money.

Adam stepped into the spinning wall and the steady, gentle spin began to pick up faster and faster. Adam reached out his hands to balance himself but it was no use. His feet tangled beneath him and he found himself tumbling down the side of the wall like a hamster on a wheel.

“Fuck!” He yelled, though his voice echoed across the room as he kept tumbling along the wall, unable to catch his balance.

“Oh come on Adam, its just the first task!” A disembodied voice laughed. Adam looked around as much as he could to find the voice’s owner, though the spinning of the wall left him decidedly nauseous and green like a kid on the their first tilt-a-whirl ride.

Adam rolled along the wall like clothes in the dryer, unable to save him self from the spin. He could feel bile rising in his throat (for how long had it been since he’d actually eaten?), and his head ached the way it did after a night of drinking. He was close enough to the edge of the wall where he’d barely started the task that he was able to throw himself back on stable ground.

“Oh come on Fucker, give us a right show! At least try and make this entertaining!” Mammon’s voice echoed through the halls. Adam felt sick, the bile threatening to spill from the back of his throat. But he wouldn’t give Mammom or any of these other hellions the satisfaction of seeing his weakness. His humanness.

He breathed in deep and slow, trying to steady his pounding head. He looked towards the light at the end of the tunnel. He could do this.

One last deep breath, and then he began to run.

He ran through the tunnel, the spinning wall threatening to pull him under. But he just ran, not time to think or ponder or balance. Just run forward, like a fearless child in a haunted house. He was pulled by the wall, like a rip current in the ocean. But still he continued.

Once he grew closer to the light and saw where the ground was once again steady, he threw himself off the spinning wall with all his might. He rolled, shoulders and back striking the ground with heavy force. He could feel the impacts of all his centuries of existence, like an old man.

He was getting too old for this shit.

He lay on the ground a moment longer to catch his breath, his back soothed by the cool ground below him.

Of course, Mammon had different plans.

“NO FUCKING SLEEPING ON MY WATCH!’ Mammon’s voice echoed through the halls. Adam winced at the noise and found himself glaring in every direction, so that Mammon could feel the weight of irritation (not like the fucker would care, but it made Adam feel better).

The light he had traveled towards turned out to be a glowing neon sign above a colorful door with the words “The Pendulum” written in a large, gaudy font.

Adam took in a deep breath and pulled himself from the floor, his body screaming in protest. He eyed the door warily, a deep sense of dread filling the pit of his stomach. He knew Mammon would make the challenges harder the farther he went; it was good entertainment after all. Adam knew a bit about keeping a crowd on their toes; loath as he was to admit it, Mammon was likely even more skilled in such a feat.

He reach towards the door knob and opened the door to the Pendulum room, a cool breeze of air whipping past him.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Lute whispered as she took in the surprise Mammon had hidden behind the gaudy door.

The first task was a rather childish introduction to the funhouse Mammon had in store, Lute had still sat with bated breath as she watched Adam stumble through the rotating room. A few of the Hotel occupants had giggled at Adam’s attempt (a full-on cackle leaving Vaggie’s lips as he spun around like a legless hamster on a wheel), though most understood that the impacts of the trial were serious.

Adam had to complete them, as they knew he had done in the first three before this. But seeing him actually complete the trials was a different story.

And Lute feared Mammon wouldn’t play fair.. He struck her as the one Sin who would succumb to their vice, cackling with cash in one hand as all of Hell burned in the other.

On the live stream, Mammon had set up two cameras: one to show his reactions to Adam’s misfortunes and one to showcase Adam in the trial. At the bottom of the screen, a ticker had been set up with a hotline one could call to donate money to Mammon. For what, was anyone’s guess.

Though she had only interacted with Lucifer and Asmodeus, Lute pegged Mammon as the most odious of all the sins. Based on the general consensus around the room, her intuition was not too far off.

“Are those blades?!” Angel asked, absentmindedly grabbing the roach-filled popcorn Niffty had brought and bringing it up to his mouth. Everyone else in the room watched with held breaths. Husk had even taken the liberty of creating cocktails for everyone to drink while they watched. Lute’s sat sweating on the coffee table, untouched.

They were blades alright. Lute could recognize them from anywhere. Mammon had taken the liberty of fashioning them to resemble the blades on the edges of Adam’s guitar he swung into battle, the gold glittering on the screen.

“Like Indiana Jones,” Cherri said, looking at the glint of the blades on the screen with fascination. Lute and Angel looked at her in confusion, though she ignored them, eyes trained on the screen. The two shrugged at each other.

“Maybe they’re not real?” Charlie offered as she looked at the screen with worry. As the words left her mouth, Adam stepped forward. His foot landed on a stone that sank into the floor, lowering the blade closer to his person. He jumped back in time, though too close for comfort to Lute. She watched in horror as a piece of brown hair floated to the floor.

“Definitely real,” Vaggie said, her eyes glued to the screen. Lute felt her body tense up. She wished she could wrap her arms around herself in a soothing hug. The lack of appendage hung heavy over her. It was one thing to know that Adam was competing in the Trials. To know in theory that they were dangerous.

To see it, though, was another. She trusted him to fight and prevail. He’d done it in all but one extermination. He’d done so when he saved her from Alastor’s shadow.

But God, was Lute tired of the fighting. In Heaven, it had been a routine. A daily pleasure. A way to fill an emptiness of which she had not been aware. Here, fighting felt like a constant battle that wore on her day by day. She could tell by Adam’s tired expression and dark circles that he felt the same.

Adam stared at the blades ahead of him, the irony of them being fashioned after his guitar-scythe was not lost on him. He glanced down at the stray, brown hair on the ground; its edges were clean from the sharp slice.

The blades swung in a steady motion, alternating in such a motion that they looked like a snake wiggling through grass. The trap he had stepped on moments earlier had reset, so he made a mental note to watch his step. He peered ahead, looking for some kind of angle or flaw design that Mammon hadn’t accounted for in his design. The door ahead, past the blades, read the words “Mirror Room” in gaudy letters.

The blades were high, slicing only a few inches above his head. The trap step indicated that it could change with one misstep.

“Get a move on already, you cuck, time is money!” Mammon yelled over the intercom. Adam glared in the direction of the blades, trying to take his time in coming up with a strategy.

Time was not on his side.

The ground began to shake beneath his feet. The floor only inches from the door he had entered through fell into a dark oblivion. The floor crumbled closer to him. His eyes widened as his feet became unsteady.

“Shit!” He yelled. Between the floor and the blades, he chose the devil he knew. He began to rush towards the blade, jumping around so as not to trip off any of the traps. He crouched beneath the first two blades, thanking his own luck that he didn’t lose his fucking head. The blades whipped past him, and while he didn’t wish to dwell and think, he knew that he’d lost more length off his already unruly hair.

The next two blades began to swing erratically, with no rhyme or reason to their movement. Raising and lowering as if they were of their own mind. Adam jumped ahead, the crumbling ground catching up to him at an unexpected speed. One of the blades lowered sooner than he realized.

The shock hit him quicker than the pain. He couldn’t look. Couldn’t take in the damage. Blood dripped down his arm onto the crumbling floor. Fucking Mammon.

The last two blades were different than the others. They jutted from the sides of the wall at the level of his neck and torso, intending to bisect him. The first blade swiped at his torso, catching onto a stray piece of his tunic but leaving him thankfully in one piece.

The second blade swiped at his head. He turned his head quickly and jumped to the safety of the platform that he hoped and prayed wouldn’t crumble beneath his feet. The blade narrowly missed his neck, but managed to slice against his cheek like a thin papercut.

Adam leaned against the door, sweat and adrenaline radiating off his body. He glanced down at his arm and realized that it had been sliced, leaving exposed dermis below. Like a fucking meat slicer. He pressed his tunic sleeve against it, though being already soaked with blood, it didn’t clean the wound as well as he’d hoped.

His breath quickened, his eyes turning gold with rage. He pushed the door open and stepped inside, hatefire alight inside his belly. At least the other Sins had played fair. Had used his own fucking vices against him. Mammon seemed to crave only cruelty and his next dollar, all at the expense of Adam. At the expense of fucking everyone in Hell.

There was no lesson to be learned in Mammon’s games (but hadn’t Adam also played with his food as an exorcist?).

“Mammon you fucking bastard, if I die, we all fucking die you cuck!” Adam screamed, his back pressed against the door. He panted, blood and sweat dripping down his face. He reached a hand up and felt a deep cut on the side of his cheek that stung as he pressed his fingers against it.

“‘MaMmOn YoU FuCkInG BaStARd’,” A sickeningly familar voice mimicked. “Please, you sound like a fucking pussy with your whining. Only pussies fucking whine like you do.”

Adam looked forward to see himself staring back in the mirror. Only, instead of the simple tunic and otherwise human features, this version of Adam sported his Exorcist mask and robes, the eyes and mouth adding a sickening yellow glow to the dim hall. Exorcist Adam looked down at him, the yellow teeth of the mask twisted into a smirk. The reflection felt like a stranger to him now, a second skin he had shed long ago.

“I could hear you screaming from down the hallway, pussy.” The reflection continued, his teeth bared like a cat at a mousetrap.

“Shut the fuck up,” Adam growled. The Exorcist reflection laughed at him, the mirror giving the illusion of the reflection growing by the second. Adam shook his head and began to walk to the next mirror. Exorcist Adam followed, a shit-eating grin on his features.

“ShUt ThE FuCK uP,” It mimicked. “God, don’t you ever stop fucking whining?”

Adam glared at the mirror, a warped reflection of himself. He wouldn’t respond. He couldn’t. He knew the best way to rile himself up. He continued onto the next mirror and the next, the Exorcist following him. He leaned against his guitar, one arm raised above the frame of the mirror.

“Lost, asshole?” The Exorcist asked, faux concern on his LED mask. “Not like that’s anything new for you.”

Adam glanced at the Exorcist and turned, the hall of mirrors growing longer the more he looked.

“Do you know what you are, Adam? What we are?”

“We,” He said, gesturing between himself and the mirror. “Are not the same.”

“What a big piece of yourself you’re trying to keep hidden, Adam. We’re the monster. The boogeyman. The Executioner lurking in the night.” The Exorcist continued. Adam felt that familiar bile rise in his throat. But he wouldn’t react. He couldn’t.

“All we did was spread our seed to humanity and cut down all the ones on the cusp of imperfection.” The Exorcist laughed. “Because only you were allowed to be imperfect, right? Aren’t you also just a sinner?”

The Exorcist grinned, a horrifyingly bright thing that lit up the darkness. Its hands reached up and grasped at the mask, unbuckling it slowly. “Didn’t it feel so good to slaughter all those sinners? Fuck, I used to get so horny after an extermination.”

“Especially when we saw her covered in blood. Fucking hell, she used to wear the shit out of that uniform.” The Exorcist laughed, pulling the helmet off and revealing himself. His eyes were golden and bright, pupils dilated with bloodlust. “Fucking sinner blood.”

The Exorcist laughed like he was drunk. Adam felt sick as he took in the reflection.

The Exorcist reached out from the mirror and swiped at the blood on Adam’s cheek. Adam looked at him, eyes wide, frozen solid. The Exorcist pulled back his hand and wiped the blood across his mouth, licking the red liquid like a naughty child in the pudding. Adam watched in horror as the Exorcist cackled.

The Exorcist stared at him like a madman, a wide, bloodstained grin on his face. He leaned in close to Adam, his head coming out of the mirror so they were only mere inches apart. The Exorcist whispered, “Fucking. Sinner. Blood.”

Adam wiped the blood away with his non-injured arm. The blood left a coppery taste in his mouth, which mixed with his sweat and adrenaline.

“I bet she��s watching you piss around like a fucking toddler,” The Exorcist laughed. “Like a pathetic little Sinner.”

“Shut up,” Adam said, his voice low. His fingers twitched, closing in a fist.

“I always did regret not fucking her when I had the chance. Don’t you think Lute’s got to be a freak in the sheets?’ The Exorcist continued.

“What the fuck is a Lute?” Mammon asked, genuine confusion on his face at the words of the reflection. He looked at the unremarkable Robofizz at his side, demanding an answer. Sure, he’d designed the general idea (kind of)...(because who didn’t love a fucking hall of mirrors?) but the conscious of the mirrors all came from Adam. A side effect of the Trials and their hellish magic.

The Robofizz, a feminine model that wore a pencil skirt and revealing button down blouse, looked down at their tablet and scrolled. They turned their tablet and pointed at the picture. Mammon squinted, his neon eyes becoming more bug like than normal.

“By all our records, Lute is his girlfriend,” Robofizz answered, glancing down at the picture. It had been one they had procured from Vox Tech (as they did with many of their programs). It showed Adam, wings extended, carrying a white-haired angel in his arms towards the Embassy of the Pride Ring.

“Oh, so Champ’s got a little girlfriend, eh?” Mammon said, rubbing his chin with his hands. He laughed and snatched the tablet from the Robofizz’s hand. “Oh, we can fucking work with this angle.”

He could practically feel the money falling right into his pocket. Sex sells, he thought. Just ask any Robofizz on the street.

Adam saw red. He punched at the reflection. His hand went straight through the Exorcist, who had been so solid when he had smeared the blood. The glass of the mirror shattered, embedding pieces into Adam’s hand. He didn’t care.

“Hey, those are expensive dick head!” Mammon yelled through the intercom. Adam raised both hands and shot a bird, circling the room so that wherever the camera was, Mammon would get the picture.

“Put it on my fucking tab.” He yelled back. He looked back at the mirror and saw, through the shattered glass, a demon smirking at him. The Sinner had dark horns protruding from its head, though the proportions were skewed due to the cracks in the mirror. The creature had large, purple eyes that seemed to glow back at him like neon lights. Black, dying wings jutted out behind it, hanging limply at it’s sides.

Adam peered closer at the creature and realized it was doing the same.

A hand went up to his bleeding cheek. The reflection mirrored his action.

Adam looked at his hand, covered in his blood. Fucking Sinner Blood. He raised his head and saw the Sinner staring at him, teeth bared and large.

Adam did the only thing he could think to do. He ran.

(He quickly found this to not be a smart thing to do in a hall of mirrors.)

“Fucking shit!” Adam exclaimed, his hands reaching up to his nose mere moments after colliding face-first with a mirror (that he swore looked like a hallway). Blood began to pour from his nose, wetting his lips and dripping down onto his tunic. Being covered with blood seemed to be an unescapable consequence of this trial (Mammon likely knew the audience would enjoy the gore). What he wouldn’t fucking give for a warm shower.

“Are you okay?” A voice said, soft but familiar. Adam closed his eyes and sent a quick prayer to whatever angel or cherub or hell, fucking Angel Dust (he couldn’t be picky at this point) and hoped that the Sinner reflection was gone.

He opened his eyes and turned to see himself, albeit a bit younger. His eyes were brown and bright. He smiled a boyish grin, and Adam got that same twitching fight-or-flight to smash this mirror as well. “Yeah, I’m fan-fucking-tastic.”

“You look familiar,” Human Adam said, peering at him with the curiosity of a child. He looked the same as he had in the garden. Just as naive. Just as annoying.

Adam rolled his eyes. “No shit.”

“You know, I’ve been tasked with a glorious purpose. To care for all things in the garden. To name them and nurture.” Human Adam said, looking at Adam with a twinkle in his eye.

“Was I always this insufferable?” Adam muttered. Human Adam ignored him. Rings away, the sound of Lucifer whispering “yes” could be heard by all those around.

“But,” Human Adam continued, paying Adam no mind. “You’re rather disgusting.”

Offended, Adam sent the reflection an affronted look. He glanced down at his tunic and realized he put Carrie White and her pig’s blood to shame. He scowled at the mirror. “Just wait until you leave the garden. You’ll see how fucking disgusting things can be.”

The reflection looked at him in confusion. “But Lilith and I will never leave the garden.”

Adam couldn’t help the “oof” that escaped his mouth.

It was the reflection’s turn to scowl. “I don’t think you’re worthy of the garden.”

If this reflection had spoken to him at the start of the trials, Adam would have had the chip on his shoulder that had existed from the moment he’d been cast from the garden. He would have brooded and bemoaned about his fate. Wished that he’d not been abandoned by heaven. Or Michael. Or his wives.

Instead, Adam laughed without humor. “No. Fucking. Shit.”

“I’ll let the angels know that you’re here,” The reflection whined. “You’re an unworthy and unclean creature to try to exist in the garden.”

Adam rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”

He shot the reflection the finger and began to walk away in search of an escape. The reflection whined and sputtered at him, spouting of his unworthiness and life of sin. Adam paid it no mind.

He continued down the hall of mirrors, hands firmly in front of him to differentiate the long halls and the solid mirrors.

“How is this supposed to teach me about fucking greed?” Adam whispered to himself. He walked deeper into the room, each hall identical to the one before. The overhead lights glowed in a strange, green manner.

“It’s not,” A voice sighed behind him. Adam let out a sharp breath of air and turned. The voice continued. “I don’t think Greed was one of our biggest problems. Wrath, though? That one’s gonna be a bitch.”

Adam gazed into the reflection behind him and saw only himself. The reflection moved and spoke on its own, but was a true representation of Adam. The only striking difference was the reflection’s eyes. One was brown and the other was golden, each peering down at him with a look of understanding.

Adam sighed. “Are you gonna tell how much of a bad boy I’ve been like the others?”

The reflection snorted, amusement crossing its features. “Nah, I think you’ve gotten the message.”

Adam narrowed his eyes. “Then what’s your angle?”

The reflection shrugged. “I guess you could call me your reconciliation, or some shit like that.”

“Meaning?”

“You’ll have to make a choice. Come to terms with who you are. Not now, but soon.” The reflection answered, blinking at him with mismatched eyes.

“Do any of you not speak in fucking riddles?”

The reflection laughed. “Human. Sinner. Exorcist. Angel. Fallen. Cast Out. We’ve worn lots of different hats, Adam. It’s almost time to figure out which one fits best.”

Adam shook his head. “Whatever. Don’t tell me what you mean. I don’t fucking care.”

He began to walk away from the mirror and down the next hallway. The reflection laughed.

“Make two rights and left to get out of here,” The reflection called. Adam turned and nodded back at the mirror before following the instructions. He made the two rights and left, hands still firmly out in front as he knew his nose couldn’t take another impact. He came to a door with the words “The End” written in curly letters and outlined in red neon lights.

“Shh, guys. Uncle Mammon’s calling me,” Charlie said, grabbing at the buzzing phone in her lap. Lucifer narrowed his eyes and rushed over, snatching the phone from her hand and putting it to his.

“Not your uncle,” Lucifer echoed from earlier. He pressed the button and was immediately met with the words “CHARLIE! THERE’S MY FAVORITE NEICE” blaring in his ear (and the room, as Lucifer hadn’t realized he had pressed the speaker button).

Charlie looked around the room and nodded her head slowly. “His only niece.”

Lute watched the scene with bated breath. Adam had just finished his hall of mirrors challenge and was covered in blood in sweat. He looked worse for wear and she wished she could tend to him as she had in the early days of their stay in the hotel.

“What do you want, Mammon?” Lucifer replied through gritted teeth.

“Luci!” Mammon blared again. “Are you watching my show too? Means a lot, Mate, truly.”

“Not really sticking with the greed theme, are you?”

Mammon laughed. “Good on ya, tiger, for noticing! The Trials never specified whose greed.”

Lucifer pinched his nose. “They definitely did.”

“Anywho’s Luci, does Charlie have that girl at her motel—”

“Hotel.”

Mammon ignored him. “Adam’s girlfriend? Flute or something?”

All eyes turned to Lute. She opened her mouth but couldn’t speak. She felt naked without her arm. Naked with all the eyes upon her like a zoo animal.

“Why?” Lucifer asked slowly into the phone.

Mammon laughed, a soulless sound. “I thought she might want to see him.”

Lucifer narrowed his eyes. Lute looked at the phone pleading, her gaze darting between it and the television screen that showed Adam reaching for the final door knob.

“What’s your price?”

“No price, I just think it would be good business.”

“Good business?” Charlie asked, leaning her head closer to the phone.

“Charlie! My favorite niece! Ya dad’s being a real party pooper, don’t you think? You’d know that, especially with you being an up-and-coming entrepreneur yourself.”

“Why would it be good business?”

“Well, I’ve uh, had some audience members really cling to the idea of Adam having a girlfriend he’s fighting to get home to since the big reveal by my hall of mirrors. I thought we could come to a nice agreement. If she’s there, of course.”

The room was silent. Charlie looked at Lute and her father, indecision written on her face. Lute felt someone pull her up and push her towards the Morningstars.

“I’m here.” She said, her voice even, trying so desperately to tap into that cool exterior that had melted since her time as an Exorcist.

“Flute!”

“Lute.” She said, voice cutting like steel.

“That’s what I fucking meant! I have a deal that could be mutually beneficial to the two of us. I’m sure you’ll agree once you hear it.”

“What deal?” She spat.

“I let you video chat with him for 10 minutes. It would be his final task in my fun house, and then I let him go on to Gluttony. In exchange, I film it, own the rights, and whatever merchandise people are willing to pay for based on the two of you.”

“Mammon,” Lucifer warned, his eyes glowing with flames. “That’s not what these trials are about.”

Mammon promptly ignored him.

“Why would I agree to that?” Lute said, looking at Cherri and Angel, who both were silently nodding affirmatively at the deal. Mammon laughed.

“Because, I could do what I originally planned with my floor of lava or my hall of killer clowns or any of my other fun editions, but I thought this wouldbe a bit more marketable to both of us,” Mammon said. His voice dropped low, and Lute could hear the chilling tone of the sin as opposed to the flamboyance he put on in his jester persona. “I could make this funhouse go forever, if I so wish it. Besides, I noticed your lover was a bit lacking in the wing department.”

“I’ll do it,” Lute said quickly. She couldn’t give herself time to process the information. Couldn’t think Couldn’t allow herself to possibly miss this chance to see him.

“Bonza!” Mammon replied, a genuinely delighted sound that left Lute with a pit in her stomach. The idea of her conversation with him being broadcast across Hell made her feel sick. Yet, here he was, showcasing his own vulnerabilities in front of an audience she didn’t even know if he knew he had. If he could exist in the overexposure and entertainment, so could she. Her face had already been plastered along the Pride Ring multiple times. What was another? “Just make sure you really play up all that loving, gooey emotion. You know, or else.”

“Set up that video chat!’ Mammon barked at a Robo-Fizz, who scrambled away quickly towards the control room. He glanced over at the secretary, Robo-Fizz, who stood beside him once more with their trusty table. They showed him the beginning ideas of merchandise they would mass-produce for their newest stars.

“What do ya got?” He barked again at the secretary.

“We could call their couple name Guitarspear, sir. Our records indicate that those were their weapons of choice. Audiences prefer something unique to both aspects of a couple in a star-crossed romance, according to our most recent data. Something special to them.” Robofizz said.

Mammon looked down at the robot with utter disdain.

“That’s so fucking stupid and would never catch on. You’re fucking fired.” Mammon said, pushing the Robofizz out of his way. “Get me someone else who can come up with something better. Like Brangelina. Fucking Guitarspear. Yeah right. ”

Adam reached at the door knob, grasping it tightly in his bleeding hand. He pulled back in an instant, the metal scorching.

“What the fuck, Mammon?!” Adam yelled into the void. The void did not yell back this time.

Adam rolled his eyes and bunched up the fabric of his tunic, using it as a glove to shield his hand from the heat. He tried once again and opened the doorknob quickly.

Instead of being met with whatever fire and brimstone he assumed he would be, he saw only a television screen. It was about half his height and stood alone in the room. He approached it hesitantly, the sound of static filling the room.

The television sprung to life and the static screen instantly changed to show Lute. She was so beautiful, though she looked different than she had in Lust. Her hair stuck up at odd ends the way it did when she first woke up. Her eyes had dark circles and she just looked so tired. Imperfect, in the most perfect way.

“Adam?”

“Lute.” He breathed out. Fuck, he didn’t trust any of this. His gut had been right in Lust. She wasn’t real. She wasn’t here. He couldn’t do this again. “You’re a fucking illusion.”

Her face fell. “Adam. It’s me.”

“You think this is fucking funny, Mammon!?” He yelled, arms wide as he spun slowly around the room, unable to look at the screen that showed such a likeness in her image. He knew better.

“Adam, it’s fucking her, shit ass!” An annoying voice yelled in the background. The camera turned to show Vaggie scowling beside Charlie, who smiled and waved at him.

“What the fuck?” Adam breathed out. Lute turned the camera to show the rest of the crew, who all offered little acknowledgement (aside from Lucifer, who smiled uncomfortably at the camera and waved in a similar manner to Charlie).

“It’s really me, Adam,” Lute said again. She could feel tears pool in her eyes, but she wouldn’t let them fall.

“Lute.” He whispered. She felt like she was home. Even Rings away and over video chat, she felt as though he had enveloped her in a large hug. She finally felt safe. Whole. Able to go on and continue on in their impossible endeavors.

Because he looked at her and spoke her name and that set everything right.

“Lute what the fuck has been happening?!” Adam said, kneeling before the screen as though it were an altar. She thought back to Mammon’s not-so-subtle warning.

She shook her head with the softest motion, a smile never leaving her face, though her eyes pleaded with him to understand. I can’t, they begged.

Be gooey, and gross, and affectionate. She could do this.

“I miss you,” She said instead. He took in her expression, the mildest body language changes that made him narrow his eyes and nod.

“I miss you, too. So fucking much.” He replied. It wasn’t a lie. He’d never missed someone the way he did her. Time didn’t seem to exist in these rings or trials, but it still felt like the longest chunk of never-ending existence he had lived through.

She nodded, shifting the camera. It accidentally showed the empty sleeve of her shirt. She knew she was being scrutinized by both the hotel and the audience,e but for the first time in her life she didn’t seem to care. Let them watch and gawk. She was with Adam.

“What happened to your arm?” Adam asked, his brow furrowed in worry. She glanced down at the missing appendage and swallowed hard. He had been so excited when she received the prosthetic.

“Just a little unrest in the Pride Ring. Nothing I can’t handle.”

“Lute?”

“I’m not weak, Adam.” She said, stronger in that conviction than she had weeks prior. She could protect herself, with or without him.

“I know you’re not. I know you can handle yourself. “

“And don’t forget it.” She warned. He smiled. He knew the sentiment was there, even if she was laying it on a bit thick. He didn’t know what agreement she had with Mammon but he didn’t fucking care. He got to see her. The real her.

That was enough.

There was silence, a few moments spent gazing at the other.

She thought that his brown eyes suited him. Warm and solid like earth. She found herself just at home gazing in them as she had his golden orbs.

The connection began to fade, his image becoming fuzzy.

“Please promise to come back to me.” She said finally. Adam nodded, his hand reaching up to cup her cheek on the screen.

“I promise.”

And then she was gone.

Adam was alone once again. This time, though, he felt lighter. Lighter than he had at any point during the trials. Fuck Mammon and his greed but damn did it have its uses. He stood from the screen, dried blood flaking off of him as he moved.

He ran a hand through his hair and laughed, a relieved sound that rumbled deep in his chest. He felt a renewed energy build inside of him. A familiar sound behind him alerted him to a portal opening to his next trial. He could complete these trials due to two simple facts: Lute was alright, and she missed him.

She missed him.

He felt like he was walking on water when he entered the yellow portal to Gluttony.

“You know, I’ve always been a proponent of young love,” Mammon said, crossing his legs as he sat while being interviewed by a Robo-Fizz at the conclusion of the program. He had already begun to process to mass produce merchandise for his new money-making stars. After his secretary’s stupid suggestion (fucking Guitarspear?) Mammon had come up with the couple name “Ladam”.

It put Brangelina to shame.

Preorder on prints, t-shirts, plushies, and more had already sold out on the website. Of course, they hadn’t even begun production on any of that merchandise (or would for the next year or two, but the consumer didn’t have to know that). But this was becoming his greatest endeavor since signing that cunt Fizzarolli.

“Aren’t they like centuries old?” The interviewer asked, holding the microphone towards Mammon’s mouth. Mammon shrugged.

“I meant forbidden love.”

“Weren’t they both Exorcists?” The interviewer asked again, eyebrow raise. Mammon snatched the microphone from the robot and stood, addressing the camera and audience who begged for more content.

“Fucking Love, then jesus. I could put fucking Amsodeus to shame with how much I give a shit about love. Speaking of love, wouldn’t you all love it if you could buy custom prints of Hell’s favorite new couple?” Mammon exclaimed. The audience roared, all demanding autographs and an appearance from their new favorite couple.

This trial had also done a great job of distracting people, at least those not in the pride ring, about the impending doom should Adam not finish the trials. All in all, it was a good business, and business was booming. People would pay a pretty penny for a prettier distraction.

You know, the ex-angel had left a decent amount of blood and hair in the funhouse. Mammon knew all too well there was a market for everything.

#staring at the sun #hazbin hotel #guitarspear

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