The transition was instantaneous.
One moment, Lucifer and Mazikeen were stepping out of the Ancient One's temple, the weight of cosmic knowledge still lingering between them—
And the next?
They were back.
New York.
The familiar glow of streetlights, the distant hum of city life, the ever-present chaos of mortal existence.
And right in front of them?
The Hospital.
Lucifer glanced up at the brightly lit entrance, tilting his head slightly.
"Ah," he mused, "I do seem to have a habit of returning here."
Mazikeen huffed, crossing her arms. "Yeah, yeah, nostalgia's cute and all, but we need a bar."
Lucifer chuckled. "Patience, my dear Maze. All in due time."
With a flick of his hand, he adjusted his cuffs before leading the way down the busy street, effortlessly blending into the night.
Mazikeen stretched her arms. "Alright, where's the nearest store?"
Lucifer pulled out a single gold coin, rolling it between his fingers. "Let's see," he murmured. "What's the best place mortals acquire their little handheld distractions?"
"Literally anywhere," Mazikeen deadpanned.
A short walk later, they found themselves inside a modern electronics store, rows of sleek devices gleaming under bright lights.
Lucifer sighed as they stepped inside, running a lazy hand through his hair. "What a dreadful lack of character," he muttered. "Everything looks so… sterile."
Mazikeen, already scanning the selection, rolled her eyes. "Are you really complaining about aesthetics in a damn phone store?"
Lucifer grinned. "Well, someone has to appreciate fine craftsmanship, Maze. Even if mortals seem to have forgotten it."
A disinterested employee approached.
"Can I help you?" he asked, barely looking up from his own phone.
Lucifer smiled pleasantly.
"Yes," he said, voice smooth, charming. "My dear companion and I require your finest handheld communication devices. And, of course, the necessary mortal contracts that come with them."
The employee blinked at him. "You mean… phones and a service plan?"
Lucifer sighed dramatically. "Yes, yes, that."
"Right." The employee motioned toward the display. "Pick what you want, and I'll get the paperwork started."
Lucifer turned to Mazikeen, smirking. "See? Simple."
Maze tapped through one of the demo models, already distracted. "Yeah, well, you're forgetting something, boss."
Lucifer arched a brow. "Oh?"
Maze smirked.
"You need an ID to get a service plan."
Lucifer paused.
Then, with zero hesitation, he raised a hand.
Reality shuddered.
The air around them rippled—subtle, imperceptible to anyone who wasn't looking.
And just like that?
It was done.
The employee, blissfully unaware of the shift in existence, continued his work as if nothing had changed.
Lucifer flashed his ID card, now perfectly official, listing his name as Lucifer Morningstar.
Mazikeen glanced at her own. "Mazikeen Lilim?"
Lucifer smiled, pleased. "Yes, much better than Smith, don't you think?"
Mazikeen rolled her eyes. "Wow. So creative, boss."
Lucifer scoffed. "It's elegant! It reflects your lineage!"
"It's literally my species," she muttered.
"Yes, well, be thankful," Lucifer smirked. "I could've named you Mazikeen Beelzebub."
Maze gave him a murderous glare.
Lucifer laughed. "Oh, come now, Maze. We both know Lilim suits you."
"Yeah? Well, next time you get the generic name," Mazikeen grumbled but didn't argue further, already setting up her phone.
Lucifer, meanwhile, adjusted the settings on his own device, inputting his preferences with the precise efficiency of a man who fully intended to use it for indulgence rather than practicality.
Then—
Maze suddenly stopped, her eyes narrowing at the screen.
Lucifer arched a brow. "What is it?"
Maze tapped at her GPS, smirking slightly. "Hell's Kitchen."
Lucifer chuckled. "Ah, yes. How charmingly fitting."
Maze grinned. "Sounds promising. I say we start there."
Lucifer sighed, slipping his phone into his pocket. "Well, I suppose if it saves us time…"
"Admit it," Maze smirked. "You're curious too."
Lucifer's smirk widened, golden eyes gleaming.
"Always, my dear," he murmured. "Always."
And with that, after buying, they stepped into the New York night, heading toward Hell's Kitchen.
It took them a long time to decide. Maze didn't pick the seediest bar, if only to stop Lucifer from whining. So while it was still not the worst, the bar was not nearly as refined as Lucifer would have preferred.
Dim lighting, worn-out leather seats, and the distinct scent of cheap beer and sweat filled the air. The place wasn't packed, but there were enough people watching the football match on the mounted TV screens to make it feel loud.
Lucifer sighed dramatically as he stepped inside, adjusting his cuffs.
"Really, Maze," he muttered. "We couldn't have found somewhere with a bit more class?"
Mazikeen, grinning, shoved past him. "Shut up. You lost the bet."
Lucifer pouted, but followed her in anyway, hands slipping lazily into his pockets as he surveyed the place.
The usual crowd—working-class men nursing drinks, off-duty cops unwinding, tired bartenders handling the rowdier patrons.
He barely spared them a second glance.
But then—
Something odd.
A man, sitting alone in a booth near the back, head tilted ever so slightly.
Lucifer's eyes narrowed faintly.
Because the man—young, dark-haired, wearing red-tinted glasses and a simple jacket—had been facing away from them.
And yet—
The moment Lucifer and Maze stepped inside, he tensed.
His shoulders stiffened, his head tilting slightly—like he was listening to something no one else could hear.
Lucifer's smirk curled slowly.
"Interesting," he murmured under his breath.
Mazikeen, already heading toward the bar, noticed where he was looking.
She sighed. "Oh no. What now?"
Lucifer, eyes gleaming, began striding toward the booth.
"I simply wish to introduce myself," he said smoothly.
Maze groaned. "Yeah, yeah. You've got that look. I'll get the drinks."
Lucifer barely acknowledged her, already sliding into the seat across from the man.
The young man didn't flinch—didn't even turn his head—but Lucifer saw the way his jaw tightened slightly.
How intriguing.
Lucifer smiled, resting his chin against his palm.
"Well, well," he purred. "Aren't you a perceptive one?"
The man's lips pressed together for half a second.
Then—
Calmly, he set his drink down and turned his face slightly toward Lucifer.
"You're not human," the man said.
Lucifer's smile widened, golden eyes gleaming with amusement.
"And you're not blind," he mused, tilting his head slightly. "Not really. Am I right?"
The man across from him—young, dark-haired, dressed simply yet precisely—showed no reaction at first.
But Lucifer was watching closely.
The tiny twitch in his fingers.
The subtle shift in his breathing.
The way his head tilted, listening, measuring.
Then, at last—
A slow exhale.
"That's an interesting theory," he replied, voice steady, neutral.
Lucifer chuckled.
"Oh, my dear boy, there's no theory about it." He leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on the table. "I see things for what they are, not just what they pretend to be."
The young man's grip on his glass tightened slightly.
Lucifer noticed.
"So tell me, dear," he purred, resting his chin against his knuckles. "What exactly do you see… when you look at me?"
The question hung between them, heavy despite the distant roar of the football game playing in the background.
For a moment, he didn't answer.
Then—
"Nothing," he said smoothly. "You don't make sense."
Lucifer's brow arched.
"Don't I?"
His jaw tightened. "I can hear heartbeats from across the room." He tilted his head toward the bar. "That bartender? Slight arrhythmia. The guy in the corner? His pulse spiked when you walked in—nervous about something."
Lucifer's smile didn't fade. "And mine?"
The young man's lips parted slightly.
And then, for the first time—he hesitated.
"...That's the thing," he said. "You don't have one."
Lucifer laughed, soft and utterly delighted.
"My, my," he murmured. "A man after my own heart—" He grinned. "—if only I had one."
His fingers curled slightly, his posture still unreadable.
Lucifer could tell he was processing, analyzing, piecing things together—but also keeping his guard up.
A fascinating habit.
He was smart.
And oh, Lucifer loved smart people.
Before he could push further—
A heavy glass clinked down onto the table beside them.
Lucifer turned his head just in time to see Mazikeen slide into the seat beside him, her gaze flicking between him and the young man with mild curiosity.
"Alright," she muttered, taking a swig of her drink, "what's this one's deal?"
Lucifer, still smirking, gestured lazily toward his new friend.
"Oh, you'll love this, Maze," he said, golden eyes gleaming. "Our new friend here sees things without seeing. And apparently, he's terribly bothered by the fact that I have no heartbeat."
Mazikeen blinked.
Then she turned to the young man.
Then back to Lucifer.
Then took another long sip of her drink.
"Great," she muttered. "Another weirdo."
Lucifer chuckled.
But Matt?
He still hadn't relaxed.
Because he could tell—Something about this man in front of him, this Lucifer Morningstar… Was not human.
And that?
That was dangerous.
.
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