10: Untitled: I, Lucifer cross-over.
By rhombal, a pinch-hit fic for jiasachan. Dili owns everyone's soul, thanks. She also says: "... I don't even know what this is. XD 'I, Lucifer' crossover with many other fandoms, I think."
I, Lucifer, Father of Lies, Apostate Supreme, and all those other wonderful nicknames, have discovered (and lost) a truly interesting source of entertainment.
As I was putting the finishing touches on the temptation of one of my favourite subjects (a bank robber in East London; also the father of eight), I felt a sudden shift in the air -- a change in the winds, as the saying goes. My vision grew fuzzy for a moment, and a loud buzzing noise filled my ears.
The minute everything died down, I noticed that nobody around me had felt what I had experienced -- but of course, they were all lying on the ground with their hands covering their heads. It seemed as if something had drastically altered (something innate and ultimately very important) yet when I looked around, nothing had visibly changed. It reminded me of the split-second before the Fall; I was poised on the brink of Falling, when I felt a slight shift in -- well, in my existence -- and though it was nothing drastic, nothing visible (none of your bat wings, cloven hooves, or horns -- I wasn't even corporeal), I knew that from that time forth, I would be known as the embodiment of pure evil.
But I digress. I soon discovered that felt so different was that the bank robber was looking at me. Directly at me, though I was incorporeal (or so I thought). He even had the nerve to aim his gun at me, albeit shakily, and say "Get down on the ground, and put your hands on your head. Or I'll shoot."
At this point, I realized that I had a body. And senses. Oh, the glorious senses. I could smell the perfume on the lady lying to the right of me, hear the clashing clamor of morning traffic, see the sunlight reflect off the glass doors of the bank. And it was marvelous to be experiencing this deluge of sensations once again. So marvelous that I almost forgot that I had tempted this particular man until he was on the brink of murder.
As I took a step forward (the sunlight was in my eyes, what can I say?), he immediately panicked and pulled the trigger on his shotgun. At point blank range, it was hard for him to miss. My immediate thought was "Oh, for fuck's sake. The first minute into having a corporeal body, and I get myself killed." And then -- everything froze. The bullet had stopped right in front of my chest, and as I gingerly skirted around it and peered at the man who had shot at me (frozen in a shocked 'oh shit, I just shot somebody' state), I heard a voice to my right.
"You don't belong here."
I turned slowly (I had no intention of getting myself killed -- though I wondered, if I was killed, did I have a soul? would it be -- irony of all ironies -- doomed to Hell?) and faced the man. He was middle-aged, tired, but otherwise quite nondescript. "Observant of you. I'm the Lord of Hell, after all."
He quirked an eyebrow at me. "The Lord of Hell, are you? Which book are you from? Let's see ... there's Faust, Paradise Lost, and -- well, many, many others."
I must admit that I gaped at this question. "I didn't escape from a book, I--"
"Right." He had the nerve to interrupt me. "I'll get you back to my daughter, and she can settle things from here."
There really wasn't anything I could say in protest, and I soon found myself herded (oh, the shame) into a large office building. As I noted that most of the rooms were filled with books, I grew uneasy. Did they truly think that I had escaped from a book? Who were these people?
We entered a medium-sized room, where a bland-looking man was talking on the phone. He saw us enter -- well, he saw me enter, since the other man had disappeared a moment earlier -- and hung up the phone a few seconds later.
"Thursday told me to expect you." He said stiffly, though not discourteously. "Follow me, please."
At this point, I probably could have made a break for it, but I found myself interested, of all things. So I followed the man into an adjoining room, where a young woman with short, brown hair sat, completely surrounded by papers. She gave the man a wave of thanks, and then looked up at me tiredly.
"Well, hello. Let's get you back to where you belong, shall we?" She asked, and without waiting for a response, opened a book and began reading. I stood there for a moment, expecting her to say more, but when she didn't, my curiousity got the best of me.
"What are you doing?"
"Trying to find which book you escaped from."
"I didn't escape from any--"
"You claim you're the Lord of Hell. And you certainly look the part, and you certainly don't look like you belong in this town."
I looked into the mirror that was hanging on the side wall, and yes, I did look quite dashing. This time.
"But how--"
"By reading." Her tone clearly indicated that I wasn't supposed to question her any more. Instead, I picked up a well-worn book that lay on her desk and opened it, out of curiousity. It drew me to it. Her eyes immediately snapped up, and she bit her lip nervously. "Don't touch that. That leads to the main library, and even though you probably can't read yourself into books, I don't want to run the risk of--"
I tuned her out and flipped to an interesting-looking page in the book, and began to read the first few sentences of it. It was simply something to do to pass the time, but suddenly, the world began to spin and fade -- tall bookshelves replaced piles of paper, dusty windows replaced drab office walls. I had read myself into the main library, apparently. Not wasting any time (I had to get away from this place, and with my new-found 'power', I probably could), I proceeded to choose a random book from the shelf in front of me. Tucking the main library book into my jacket pocket -- jacket pockets were marvelous things, I soon discovered -- I began to read from that book.
And then the whirlwind of adventures began.
First, I discovered the meaning of life (which is nothing; well, either nothing or a box or a boat -- or was the meaning of death a boat?) from two men who were on their way to visit an old friend. I told them that they were right (except for the part about the box or a boat, which I still don't understand, though one of them took an extraordinarily long amount of time in an attempt to explain it to me) in that, since that's how He makes it, which made one of them frown and the other one beam. I then proceeded to lose my jacket to one of them in series of coin tosses (which was when I finally realized how important jacket pockets really were) -- remembering to take the book out of it, of course. He immediately put it on with a huge grin, placing all the coins he had won from his friend into the pockets. Things began to go downhill when I asked them what their names were, and I immediately left a short while afterwards.
Something from the atmosphere in that book must have befuddled my mind (or perhaps, it was the personality of one of the men that did), since I only vaguely remember the rest of my adventures: One was to a lazy, beautiful city, full of beautiful people -- though one young man stood out in my mind. He was almost unnaturally beautiful, though I suppose that he didn't have much in the way of charm or wit. His friend all-but made up for it, however, and I spent a wonderful afternoon staring at one young gentleman while discussing (and sometimes debating over) things with another. I don't remember their names, though I'm certain they told me.
And there was another visit to yet another book, in which I was chided by a mother (I don't think anybody could forget her shrill voice), forced to attend a ball, and -- there was much more, but I visited upwards of twenty books in an afternoon, and everything began to run together, after awhile.
When I returned to the library for the (upwards of) twentieth time, I pulled an all-together too familiar book out of the shelf, a small, red book with a glossy cover. It was strange, since I had certainly never read it before, but yet -- I shook the feeling off at that time, since perhaps I was still feeling strange from the mushroom that I had eaten in 'Alice's Adventures in Wonderland', and began to read from the book.
My sight grew fuzzy once more, and the buzzing in my ears started again, though louder than ever. As everything cleared again, I found myself still in the library, though once again, something had changed. I thought I knew what it was, and closed my eyes to block out the sight, but -- as I suspected, I had no eyes. I was incorporeal once again, and back to my usual self. Damn it. I had almost escaped the monotony of my dreary and pointless existence, but having no actual hands to hold the book, I had no way to read myself back into the library.
I gave a (metaphorical) sigh of frustration. At least that man had gained a coat; the man who seemed to understand more than I understood. Perhaps it would keep him warm where ever he was going -- England, it seemed to be.
End.
I, Lucifer, Father of Lies, Apostate Supreme, and all those other wonderful nicknames, have discovered (and lost) a truly interesting source of entertainment.
As I was putting the finishing touches on the temptation of one of my favourite subjects (a bank robber in East London; also the father of eight), I felt a sudden shift in the air -- a change in the winds, as the saying goes. My vision grew fuzzy for a moment, and a loud buzzing noise filled my ears.
The minute everything died down, I noticed that nobody around me had felt what I had experienced -- but of course, they were all lying on the ground with their hands covering their heads. It seemed as if something had drastically altered (something innate and ultimately very important) yet when I looked around, nothing had visibly changed. It reminded me of the split-second before the Fall; I was poised on the brink of Falling, when I felt a slight shift in -- well, in my existence -- and though it was nothing drastic, nothing visible (none of your bat wings, cloven hooves, or horns -- I wasn't even corporeal), I knew that from that time forth, I would be known as the embodiment of pure evil.
But I digress. I soon discovered that felt so different was that the bank robber was looking at me. Directly at me, though I was incorporeal (or so I thought). He even had the nerve to aim his gun at me, albeit shakily, and say "Get down on the ground, and put your hands on your head. Or I'll shoot."
At this point, I realized that I had a body. And senses. Oh, the glorious senses. I could smell the perfume on the lady lying to the right of me, hear the clashing clamor of morning traffic, see the sunlight reflect off the glass doors of the bank. And it was marvelous to be experiencing this deluge of sensations once again. So marvelous that I almost forgot that I had tempted this particular man until he was on the brink of murder.
As I took a step forward (the sunlight was in my eyes, what can I say?), he immediately panicked and pulled the trigger on his shotgun. At point blank range, it was hard for him to miss. My immediate thought was "Oh, for fuck's sake. The first minute into having a corporeal body, and I get myself killed." And then -- everything froze. The bullet had stopped right in front of my chest, and as I gingerly skirted around it and peered at the man who had shot at me (frozen in a shocked 'oh shit, I just shot somebody' state), I heard a voice to my right.
"You don't belong here."
I turned slowly (I had no intention of getting myself killed -- though I wondered, if I was killed, did I have a soul? would it be -- irony of all ironies -- doomed to Hell?) and faced the man. He was middle-aged, tired, but otherwise quite nondescript. "Observant of you. I'm the Lord of Hell, after all."
He quirked an eyebrow at me. "The Lord of Hell, are you? Which book are you from? Let's see ... there's Faust, Paradise Lost, and -- well, many, many others."
I must admit that I gaped at this question. "I didn't escape from a book, I--"
"Right." He had the nerve to interrupt me. "I'll get you back to my daughter, and she can settle things from here."
There really wasn't anything I could say in protest, and I soon found myself herded (oh, the shame) into a large office building. As I noted that most of the rooms were filled with books, I grew uneasy. Did they truly think that I had escaped from a book? Who were these people?
We entered a medium-sized room, where a bland-looking man was talking on the phone. He saw us enter -- well, he saw me enter, since the other man had disappeared a moment earlier -- and hung up the phone a few seconds later.
"Thursday told me to expect you." He said stiffly, though not discourteously. "Follow me, please."
At this point, I probably could have made a break for it, but I found myself interested, of all things. So I followed the man into an adjoining room, where a young woman with short, brown hair sat, completely surrounded by papers. She gave the man a wave of thanks, and then looked up at me tiredly.
"Well, hello. Let's get you back to where you belong, shall we?" She asked, and without waiting for a response, opened a book and began reading. I stood there for a moment, expecting her to say more, but when she didn't, my curiousity got the best of me.
"What are you doing?"
"Trying to find which book you escaped from."
"I didn't escape from any--"
"You claim you're the Lord of Hell. And you certainly look the part, and you certainly don't look like you belong in this town."
I looked into the mirror that was hanging on the side wall, and yes, I did look quite dashing. This time.
"But how--"
"By reading." Her tone clearly indicated that I wasn't supposed to question her any more. Instead, I picked up a well-worn book that lay on her desk and opened it, out of curiousity. It drew me to it. Her eyes immediately snapped up, and she bit her lip nervously. "Don't touch that. That leads to the main library, and even though you probably can't read yourself into books, I don't want to run the risk of--"
I tuned her out and flipped to an interesting-looking page in the book, and began to read the first few sentences of it. It was simply something to do to pass the time, but suddenly, the world began to spin and fade -- tall bookshelves replaced piles of paper, dusty windows replaced drab office walls. I had read myself into the main library, apparently. Not wasting any time (I had to get away from this place, and with my new-found 'power', I probably could), I proceeded to choose a random book from the shelf in front of me. Tucking the main library book into my jacket pocket -- jacket pockets were marvelous things, I soon discovered -- I began to read from that book.
And then the whirlwind of adventures began.
First, I discovered the meaning of life (which is nothing; well, either nothing or a box or a boat -- or was the meaning of death a boat?) from two men who were on their way to visit an old friend. I told them that they were right (except for the part about the box or a boat, which I still don't understand, though one of them took an extraordinarily long amount of time in an attempt to explain it to me) in that, since that's how He makes it, which made one of them frown and the other one beam. I then proceeded to lose my jacket to one of them in series of coin tosses (which was when I finally realized how important jacket pockets really were) -- remembering to take the book out of it, of course. He immediately put it on with a huge grin, placing all the coins he had won from his friend into the pockets. Things began to go downhill when I asked them what their names were, and I immediately left a short while afterwards.
Something from the atmosphere in that book must have befuddled my mind (or perhaps, it was the personality of one of the men that did), since I only vaguely remember the rest of my adventures: One was to a lazy, beautiful city, full of beautiful people -- though one young man stood out in my mind. He was almost unnaturally beautiful, though I suppose that he didn't have much in the way of charm or wit. His friend all-but made up for it, however, and I spent a wonderful afternoon staring at one young gentleman while discussing (and sometimes debating over) things with another. I don't remember their names, though I'm certain they told me.
And there was another visit to yet another book, in which I was chided by a mother (I don't think anybody could forget her shrill voice), forced to attend a ball, and -- there was much more, but I visited upwards of twenty books in an afternoon, and everything began to run together, after awhile.
When I returned to the library for the (upwards of) twentieth time, I pulled an all-together too familiar book out of the shelf, a small, red book with a glossy cover. It was strange, since I had certainly never read it before, but yet -- I shook the feeling off at that time, since perhaps I was still feeling strange from the mushroom that I had eaten in 'Alice's Adventures in Wonderland', and began to read from the book.
My sight grew fuzzy once more, and the buzzing in my ears started again, though louder than ever. As everything cleared again, I found myself still in the library, though once again, something had changed. I thought I knew what it was, and closed my eyes to block out the sight, but -- as I suspected, I had no eyes. I was incorporeal once again, and back to my usual self. Damn it. I had almost escaped the monotony of my dreary and pointless existence, but having no actual hands to hold the book, I had no way to read myself back into the library.
I gave a (metaphorical) sigh of frustration. At least that man had gained a coat; the man who seemed to understand more than I understood. Perhaps it would keep him warm where ever he was going -- England, it seemed to be.
End.