"A different task," Michael clarified. "An important one."

"Important enough for my little brother to venture into the unhappiest place on Earth to deliver the message?" Luce leaned back in his seat, kicking his feet up as he regarded Michael curiously. He motioned toward the chair at the other end of the table. "Have a seat."

Michael didn't sit. "There is an uprising amongst the angels. Some of your old followers, ones who were once forgiven for their debauchery, are planning another revolt."

"Debauchery," Luce echoed. "That's what we're calling it?"

"What would you call it?"

"I'd call it differing opinions… having reservations."

Michael stared at him. "It doesn't matter what we call it. They are planning to finish what you started."

"Well, good for them," Luce said. "Maybe they'll have better luck than I did."

"Do you not see the implications of this? What can happen if they're successful? The world will be destroyed, overrun with sin, the humans corrupted beyond saving."

"So?"

"So?" Michael stepped even closer, his voice edging on anger. "You cursed them to the fate of mortality, and you say 'so'? You damned angels to fall to Earth, and then you don't care that the Earth could be destroyed? We watched its creation together! How can you not care? How can you not care when she's there?"

The mention of Serah, even without uttering her name, caused every inch of Luce to tense up. His eyes narrowed as he glared at his brother. "You have a lot of nerve talking to me about her."

"Me?" Michael asked incredulously. "What about what you did to her?"

"I gave her a second chance!" Luce said. "When she dies, she'll go back to Heaven, back where she belongs. You tried to damn her to Hell, the one place she should've never been. So who's the evil one here, brother? Who's the one who doesn't care?"

"I was doing my job."

"And that's all it has ever been to you," Luce said. "Work, work, work… but I want to live. I wanted to live."

Michael glared at him for a moment before looking around the room. "Nice life you have here."

"Fuck you."

"While you sit here in your self-imposed exile, I'll be off cleaning up your messes yet again," Michael said. "I knew you were corrupted, miscreant, but I never realized what a coward you could be."

"Get out," Luce growled.

"I don't take orders from you," Michael said, standing firmly in spot, defiantly staring at him.

Angrily, Luce slammed his fist down on the long table, the force making the ground rumble as the marble gave way, a jagged lightning bolt shaped fracture running right down the center of it. "Get out!"

His voice echoed through the room as thunder cracked above them, the scenery shifting as his anger broke through. Flames incinerated the floor, surrounding the both of them. Lucifer could feel the intense heat, could smell everything around them singeing, but he knew Michael sensed neither. Michael felt nothing. He smelled nothing.

As far as Lucifer concerned, he was nothing.

Hesitantly, Michael took a step back, nodding. Michael may not fear him, and wouldn't usually stand down, but Luce had the upper hand down here. All it would take was a snap of his finger and Michael would be locked in a cage somewhere, living his worst nightmare.

Luce was tempted. He wondered what that was.

Probably disappointing God.

Turning, Michael started for the exit as the fire wound down, the flames fading back into a floor. He paused when he reached the door but didn't look back. "Abaddon has been showing himself to the humans."

"Doesn't surprise me a bit," Luce muttered. It wasn't a rule, so to speak, but it was certainly frowned upon to purposely be seen without a damn good reason. "Still don't see what it has to do with me."

"He showed himself to her," Michael said. "Out of all the humans in the world, why do you think that is?"

"You're lying."

Abaddon wouldn't do that… not with her. Not knowing who she was, not knowing what he knew about Luce.

"I don't lie," Michael said. "You know that."

He did know that. If Michael said it, Michael thought it was true. He wasn't always right… fuck, he was often wrong… but he believed it.

Michael walked out without another word, leaving Luce alone. He turned his attention back to his cards, shoving against the table and sending them flying through the room, whipping through the air like a tornado.

Luce remembered a time long ago when he'd charmed a naïve human into doing his bidding, tainting her without her knowledge, using her as a pawn in his game.

Seems his old friend was taking a page from his book.

Lucifer stood at the gate, a mere foot from the magical charms locking everyone inside. He could feel the energy pulsating from it, pressing upon his skin, trying to force him further away. Above, the reapers swarmed, sensing his presence, watching and waiting to see what he would do.

Sighing, he pulled the heavenly knife out and eyed it. I sincerely hope this doesn't backfire. He wasn't in the mood to be annihilated today. Sure, he'd regenerate, be no worse for wear come tomorrow, or the next day if they completely obliterated him, but it hurt like a son of a bitch being ripped apart, piece-by-piece.

Pulling off his black shirt, he draped it over his shoulder as he brought the knife up to where his heart should be. He winced as the blade cut into his skin, blood oozing to the surface, drops running down his bare chest, coating it with streaks of red. Light radiated from the wound when he cut deep, the pain nearly unbearable. He grit his teeth as he carved the elaborate sigil onto his chest.