Chapter Text
Lute’s hands gripped the edge of Adam’s desk with thinly veiled outrage. Her chest heaved with unsteady breaths that either came out as shaky or as ragged noises that vaguely resembled growls.
That meeting was shit.
This past month had been shit.
Everything about this situation was shit.
She couldn’t believe Sera and the others. Adam was dead. A majority of her team had been wiped out. Their army was in tatters, all because of Charlie Morningstar and the filthy, vile monsters at her hotel.
This was bullshit. She should be leading the Exorcists right now, plotting revenge on those assholes and rebuilding their numbers for round two. Instead, one of those slimy fuckers had managed to worm his way through the pearly gates, and now Sera had chosen to postpone the Exterminations until they got more information on “redemption.”
That wasn’t even the worst part.
At that very meeting, she found out she had been fucking demoted! She wasn’t going to lead the Exorcists anymore! The position had gone to Abel, Adam’s son, as Emily believed he’d treat the situation more “fairly” than her.
Fair.
The word was poison on her tongue.
Those righteous bastards dared to talk about fair?
Adam was dead!
Her arm was gone!
The position which had been dangling above her, just within reach, had been snatched right out of her hands, and they wanted to talk about fair?!
Another shuddery exhale rattled Lute’s chest as she tried to contain her rage and keep from exploding. If the Seraphim thought she could keep her from exacting revenge, she was sorely mistaken. She would devise a plan to destroy those Hell beasts and protect Heaven, even if Sera disapproved. Mere threats of treason would not dissuade her. She needed to defend her home, to avenge Adam, no matter the cost.
For now, she knew she had to bide her time, rebuild her strength for the upcoming storm. That was okay. She could be patient. She would wait a whole millennium if she had to. It would all be worth it in the end to see Charlie herself cower before her, rueing the day she took away-!
“Hey, Miss Lute. Can I call you that?”
Lute’s feathers bristled on her wings, her thoughts of vengeance tampering off into a low growl as she recognized the voice of Abel behind her. Hadn’t he and that glorified twink Peter pissed her off enough for one day?
“Sorry to, uh, interrupt your, uh, freaky “in the dark” time,” the chubby blond went on, ignorant to the Exorcist’s building rage. “I was hoping to maybe get one of my dad’s old guitars, you know? To remember him by.”
Lute’s whole body went tense at his words. Her nails dug into the wooden surface of the table, cracking and threatening to break under the pressure.
Who did this little prick think he was?
First, he came waltzing into the House of the Speaker to steal her job and taunt her with his yes-man, and now he dared to believe he could walk away with Adam’s possessions? Adam didn’t even like him! He probably didn’t even care that his father was dead! What right did he have to try and take his stuff?! Lute was the one who had been by Adam’s side for all these years. She was the one who deserved his belongings and more. Abel would walk away with nothing.
“Get out.”
The lieutenant’s voice was low, eerily so, but the warning rang loud and clear with the venom lacing her tone.
Abel, who had already picked up one of his father’s guitars, turned to her, confused.
“Sorry?”
With surprising speed, Lute got right up in his face, snatching the instrument out of his hands.
“GET OUT!”
She was louder this time, her patience already having run dry. She swung the guitar at his head, aiming to slice it clean off his shoulders. Fortunately (Or rather unfortunately for her), Abel managed to duck out of the way, already in the process of retreating.
“Whoa! Y- Yes! Uh, I’m leaving, sorry! I’m leaving! I’m out!”
He flew out of the room with a nervous chuckle, shutting the door on his way out. Lute planted her feet on the floor, panting quietly as she glared at the door, silently cursing the blond’s very existence.
That’s right, and stay out, you little nepo baby.
“You know, I never liked that kid.”
Lute couldn’t didn’t turn around to face the painfully familiar voice behind her. She kept her glare where it was, the presence behind her only fueling her fury.
“He’s weak,” she spat bitterly.
“Major pussy, not the good kind,” the manifestation agreed callously.
“And now, I have to answer to him. He’s nothing like you.”
She smashed the guitar against the wall, watching as it disintegrated into a rubble of dust and strings. Behind her, the source of her aggression rolled his eyes, crossing his arms as he lazily lounged back like a spoiled cat.
“Ouch. Yeah, that fucking sucks.”
Lute didn’t acknowledge him this time. She stared despondently at the pile of guitar bits on the floor, her shaky hands slowly curling into fists.
“It’s not fair…” she murmured. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this…”
She suddenly whirled around, tears welling up in her eyes as she finally faced the figure.
“You weren’t supposed to die!”
Behind her, an apparition of Adam sat slumped in his chair, a bored expression on his face. He looked just like him, save for the missing halo, duller colors, and the strange glow surrounding his body.
It wasn’t him though.
It couldn’t be.
She’d watched him die, helpless to save him as his golden blood pooled around his body and the life slowly left his eyes.
This Adam? He was all in her head.
She was aware of that much, and that realization was enough to make her heart crack in her chest.
Without registering the movement, Lute stepped closer to him as she proceeded with her tirade, her tone growing more resentful as she spoke.
“We were supposed to slaughter those sinful monsters together for eternity! And if worse came to worst, I was supposed to be the next in command, not that little bastard! But of course Emily had to ruin everything with her glitter and gumdrops attitude!”
She clasped her hands together mockingly, speaking in a squeaky, over-the-top voice to imitate Emily.
“‘We should give redemption a chance! Sinners can totally change! Abel’s going to be the leader instead of you because he’s Adam’s son and sooooo much more fair than you!’ Fuck you, you googly-eyed bitch! Why don’t you go suck him off if you think he’s so great?!”
The entire time she ranted, “Adam” remained unnervingly silent, only watching as she spewed out her hatred like a dormant volcano finally having the chance to erupt.
That wasn’t like him. Adam would’ve interrupted her by now with a cocky comment or a jab at the person she was venting about. This only further proved to her that this wasn’t her Adam, and for the briefest of moments, the hot fury in her chest cooled into a dull ache.
“You know what I think you should do?” “Adam” chimed in, his bored frown sharpening into an amused grin. “You should take back what’s rightfully yours, babe. Get that position back. You’ve been dealing with my bullshit for fucking ages! You know you deserve it. Are you really going to roll over and let my pussy of a son walk all over you?”
Lute gritted her teeth as the hallucination spoke, her previous anger bubbling up and returning tenfold.
“Of course not!” She declared. “But how will I do that? I can’t simply ask for my position back.”
“Adam’s” expression shifted to a cruel, knowing smirk, and his hand coolly gestured to Lute’s sword.
“Don’t play dumb, Lute,” he goaded. “You know what you have to do.”
He stood up from his seat and stalked over to her, circling her like a vulture anticipating its next meal. His wings, which would usually brush against her as he did this, phased through her like a hologram, sending a shiver up her spine.
“After all, you’re an Exorcist, aren’t you?” He pushed, his narrowed eyes fixated on her. “My top girl? One who knows her way around a sword? Who held the highest kill count out of all my bitches? Who doesn’t let herself be pushed around by any-fucking-body?”
Lute’s gaze glued itself to her blade as her commander’s remarks seeded themselves in her brain. She did know what she had to do. If the leadership position wouldn’t be given to her…
A twisted grin enveloped her face as she drew her weapon.
She’d take it by force.
Her eyes shifted to the door where Abel had just exited from, gleaming an eerie golden glow.
“Yes, sir…”
Outside in the hallway, blissfully unaware of the plot against him, Abel walked along his merry way, humming to himself as he prepared to head home.
To say today had been eventful for him would be the understatement of the century. Being appointed leader of the Exorcists, showing the new soul Sir Pentious around Heaven with Emily and Peter, meeting with Sera to discuss plans to handle Hell, the chubby angel could hardly catch a break! Who knew so much would happen following his father’s death? All these new responsibilities were incredibly overwhelming, but at least it was a decent distraction to… everything.
Abel’s humming trailed off with his walking, a small sigh escaping him as a wave of grief and anxiety flooded his chest. Though he tried his hardest to maintain his laidback mask in front of the others, he couldn’t deny the sadness that held him in its chokehold.
He missed his father.
Adam may have been a heartless jackass at times, but he was still his dad, and he wasn’t terrible all the time. He certainly had his moments, no matter how rough he was around the edges. Now, he was gone, leaving his son to take over his duties.
Abel knew he had some major shoes to fill as the new head of the Exorcist army. Problem was… He’d never led anyone before. The most “leaderly” position he’d taken was as a shepherd when he was alive, and the only beings he led were sheep! Hell, he’d never even been on an Extermination! Whenever he’d asked Adam about his job, all the older man said was that he “kicked ass and took names”. Abel wasn’t the type of guy to fight, let alone take someone’s life. He preferred to resolve things peacefully, rather than with violence.
Still, he knew the Exorcists were all for violence. It was practically their entire purpose! What if his pacifism caused them to look down on him? What if he couldn’t live up to his father’s name? What if he was a failure?!
Abel clutched his chest slightly to soothe his rapidly beating heart, taking a deep breath to ground himself. He couldn’t think so negatively about this. He was a leader now. He needed to be strong for his troops, for his friends, for Heaven itself.
Shaking his head to recollect his thoughts, Abel continued on his way. He could see the exit now, and he was already anticipating going home and sleeping the rest of the day away. It was a bit of a shame he was leaving without one of his father’s guitars, but he tried not to let it bother him. He’d come back when Lute was in a less… murdery mood.
Click. Click. Click.
Abel froze in his tracks at the sound of boots stepping behind him. He turned his head to see who was there, but he couldn’t find anyone.
Weird.
“Your Highness?” Abel called out. “Emily? Peter? Is that you?”
No answer.
Abel kept his head turned for a moment longer, searching for the source of the noise. Eventually, he hummed curiously and turned back around, returning to his path.
Must be my imagination, he concluded, or maybe it’s the building settling.
He chuckled a little to himself.
Either I’m really tired or I’m just working myself up over this whole “leader of the Exorcists” thing. I should probably head to bed as soon as I get ho-.
Click. Click. Click.
Abel whirled towards the mysterious sound again, his wings fluffing up in alarm.
He definitely hadn’t imagined that.
“Who’s there?” He demanded, trying to sound confident and not scared out of his mind. “Peter, are you trying to jumpscare me again? Give it up! You’re getting sloppy! I can hear you, you know!”
Once again, no response came to Abel’s calls, the hallway silent with no trace of the perpetrator behind the unusual footsteps. Abel glared down the area for a minute longer, waiting for some sort of sign as to who was messing with him. When he found none, he huffed and went back to walking; however, his body was noticeably tense and his steps had picked up pace. Whatever this was, it was getting a little too unsettling for him, and whether it was his friends playing tricks on him or his mind going wild, he wasn’t too keen on sticking around to find out.
As the angel quickened his pace to the exit, a new sound replaced the clicking footsteps—wings softly flapping. The sound was nearly indiscernible, but Abel could still pick up on it. He didn’t turn around this time though. He kept his gaze ahead as he speed-walked to the door, now worried about what he would find if/when he did turn around.
He could see the exit now, the door was just within reach. He held out his hand, his fingers mere inches away from brushing the handle-!
A sharp battle cry screeched behind him, causing him to flinch. He whipped his head around to find Lute dive-bombing towards him, brandishing her blade with hatred and fury in her eyes.
Abel’s eyes went round at the sight of Lute barreling straight at him. His brain screamed at him to run, to throw open the door and book it before he got sliced into ribbons, but his legs were locked in place. His wings fluffed up in fear and helplessness as he opened his mouth to scream.
SLAM!
Lute collided into Abel, sending the pair of them crashing to the ground. Abel landed heavily on his back, and he swore he saw stars as his head conked against the cold, unforgiving floor. He brought his hand up to rub his aching skull, a muffled groan leaving him as he started to sit up. As he sluggishly fought to move his body however, he quickly realized he felt… heavier than usual, like he was being weighed down by an unknown force.
The adrenaline rush from earlier was gradually wearing off, and as it left, he began to notice even more oddities. His breathing was completely blocked off, his chest had that gross clogged feeling you get when you eat too much food at once, and Lute was-.
Oh.
Oh no…
Abel’s eyes widened in pure, unbridled horror as he stared at his subordinate.
Or rather, what was visible of her.
Lute’s lower half was dangling out of his mouth, her legs kicking wildly in an effort to break free. He could hear her screeching what were most likely vile obscenities and threats, but they were muffled by the muscled lining of his throat.
A deep-rooted panic seeded itself in Abel’s gut, and he tugged anxiously at his hair, his mind racing.
Oh no. Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, oh shit! Lute’s so going to kill me!
He tried to brainstorm ways to dislodge Lute from his throat, but an unsettling nausea had crept up on him, clouding his thoughts.
This situation was the cherry on top of what was already a crappy sundae. It was bad enough his father had the messed up ability to swallow people. Why did he have to inherit this from him, why?! He didn’t want to eat people! The very thought disturbed him to his core. The actual idea of a living, breathing soul inside of his stomach, moving around, squirming, residing underneath his skin made him shudder…
But… Lute was already more in than out at this point, and letting her go while she was this angry definitely wouldn't end well for him. Not to mention, he was getting pretty lightheaded from lack of oxygen.
Oh crap. He’d actually have to…
Fighting the urge to gag, Abel reluctantly pried Lute’s sword from her hands, tossing it to the ground with a metallic clatter. Lute’s struggle wavered briefly at the separation from her weapon, and he decided to take advantage of her stunned state.
Seizing hold of her legs, Abel pushed them further into his mouth, swallowing rapidly as she disappeared down his throat. He could feel Lute trying to protest the action, her body flailing uselessly in an effort to make him stop. He had to force back another round of nausea as he carried on swallowing the soldier, determined to clear his airway as soon as possible, all the while silently apologizing to Lute in his mind and praying she wouldn’t be too upset with him later.
The seconds passed by like an eternity to Abel as he forced himself to gulp down his subordinate. He couldn’t believe he was doing this. It went against every principle he’d set for himself. However, he was desperate, and eventually, mercifully, Lute slipped all the way into his throat, and he concluded her journey with an audible, wet GLUP!
Abel gasped the second his mouth was freed from its burden, and he greedily gulped down massive mouthfuls of air. He was so focused on soothing his aching lungs, he’d almost forgotten about the woman he’d eaten. It was only when he felt a harsh jab to his insides did he recall the predicament he was in.
Abel’s illness returned full force as he fully absorbed the feeling of Lute struggling beneath his skin. He stared at his engorged abdomen with a growing horror, raising a shaky hand to his mouth.
“Oh fuck,” he mumbled, his words muffled behind his hand. “I think I’m going to be sick…”
Another sharp punch to his stomach caused him to wince, and he nearly doubled over, cradling his poor, suffering belly. Lute really wasn’t holding back any strikes, and as much as he wanted to just lie there in misery, he couldn’t let anybody see him like this; the son of Adam sitting smack in the middle of the hallway, housing the lieutenant inside of him.
With a grunt, Abel pushed himself to his feet, holding his protruding gut in his hands as he staggered to a nearby door. He practically kicked it open, revealing the room to be a small closet, and stepped inside, shutting the door behind him before slumping to the floor. He leaned heavily against the wall, his chest rising and falling with every breath he took. He could feel Lute picking up where she left off, punching and kicking his innards, and his queasiness increased as he fruitlessly rested his hand on his middle.
Yeah, I really am going to be sick.
“Lute,” Abel rasped, his voice hoarse with unease and illness. “Please calm down…”
He felt Lute briefly pause her attacks, and for a second, he hoped he’d somehow gotten through to her. Unfortunately, things were never that easy. A swift punch to the gut proved that.
“Calm down? CALM DOWN?!” The lieutenant viciously snapped. “ADAM IS DEAD! YOU STOLE MY POSITION! YOU FUCKING SWALLOWED ME, AND YOU WANT ME TO CALM DOWN?! I’LL FUCKING SHOW YOU CALM DOWN!”
Another strike was thrown at his stomach wall, and Abel groaned in pain, curling up on himself and holding his midsection desperately. Lute was strong, freakishly so, and her attacks hurt like hell. In fact, every movement she made was uncomfortable.
“I- I’m sorry-!” The angel wheezed. “I didn’t mean to swallow you! It was an accident! You slammed into me!”
Lute wasn’t hearing it. She was too deep in her rage to listen to reason. She continued to wreak havoc on his digestive system, as if she was trying to tear him apart from the inside (which wouldn’t be too far off). All Abel could do was lie there in misery, curled up on the floor as he tried to keep himself from puking.
This was really not how he’d expected things to turn out. He’d only come here for one of his dad’s guitars, yet here he was, lying on the ground in a cold sweat, with a bloodthirsty woman who’d tried to kill him mere moments ago battling his insides like a feral animal.
It was almost comical how quickly things had escalated in the span of a few minutes.
“Lute…” Abel tried again, winded and pained. “Please…”
“You think this is funny, huh?!” The wrathful soul accused, launching another kick to his innards. “You think it’s such a big fucking riot to see me fall so far from grace?! For you to steal my job from right under my nose?! To watch the Seraphim brush me off as some crazed, grieving woman?! I’ll fucking show you! I’ll show you all! I’ll murder every single one of those sinners and come for you next!”
Her words were biting and cruel, but Abel could tell she was running out of steam. Her hits were weaker and less frequent, and her threats were trailing off as she grew breathless.
“I’ll fucking kill you! I’ll- I’ll rip you apart! I’ll put your skull on a plaque and hang it on my wall! I’ll shred your feathers and line my damn bedding with them! I’ll-! I’ll…”
Abel felt her slump against his belly with a frustrated huff of defeat. He took a moment to recover from the internal assault, before he forced himself to rise, propping himself against the wall once more and wheezing.
For the longest time, he stared at his belly, traces of unease, nausea, and even a hint of sympathy in his eyes. He soon found himself gently resting his hand on the smooth curve of his middle, rubbing it in soft, soothing circles.
“Lute… Can we talk? Please?”
Abel could practically sense her scowl as she shifted inside him, undoubtedly just as uncomfortable as he was.
“What is there to talk about?” She grumbled bitterly. “I have nothing to say to you, and I’m sure you have nothing to say to me.”
Abel sighed, but remained undeterred by her stubbornness, continuing to rub his stomach. He needed to get through to her, to settle her down so that hopefully when he let her out, she wouldn’t be ready to rip his wings off.
“I do, actually,” he asserted.
He briefly paused his movements on his belly, taking a deep inhale to collect his thoughts.
“Lute… I know you’re angry. You’re angry at me, you’re angry at Sera, you’re angry at the demons, you’re angry at Adam’s death. You’re just… angry. And that’s ok.”
Inside of his stomach, Lute sneered, lounging against his slimy walls.
“Oh, what are you, my personal therapist now? Gonna make me talk about my feelings and shit?”
Abel shook his head.
“I’m not going to make you talk if you don’t want to,” he assured. “I’m just letting you know that… I get it. I understand how you feel.”
That was the wrong thing to say. Abel’s stomach churned uncomfortably as he felt Lute’s wings puff up in a rage.
“Oh, really?” She spat, her anger rising. “You understand how I feel? How? How could you possibly understand what I’m going through? I’ve lost everything! My position, my commander, my world, and you understand how I feel?!”
She reeled her arm back for another punch.
“You don’t understand shit! All you lost was a man who couldn’t give two fucks about you! I bet you’re happy that he’s gone, you slimy fucking-!”
“Shut up!”
Silence reigned in the closet as Abel finally snapped at Lute. He covered his mouth with wide eyes, shocked by the sheer volume of outrage in his own voice. He felt the lieutenant falter in her verbal and impending physical abuse, and he quickly took advantage of her stupefaction. He pressed both hands on his midsection, holding Lute in place and preventing her attack. He took another breath to calm himself, unwilling to risk snapping at her again.
“You’re wrong, Lute,” he insisted. “My father had his faults, of course he did, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t care about him. At the end of the day, he was still my father, and…”
His voice lowered to something softer, sorrowful.
“I miss him more than anything.”
Abel hadn’t realized he’d started to tear up until he felt warm wetness drip down his cheeks. He wiped his eyes with a shuddery sigh, swallowing a lump in his throat as he rested his hand over the assumed area of Lute’s head.
“Dad… He meant a lot to me,” he murmured. “And… I’m sure he meant a lot to you too, right?”
For a while, the fiery angel didn’t answer, and Abel wasn’t sure if it was out of pure stubbornness or grief. He was about to poke his paunch to check if she was still responsive when she spoke, low and mournful.
“Your father…” she began, “was everything to me.”
Abel’s stance softened as he felt her squirm uselessly in his gut, trying to get in a more comfortable position. He eased his grip on himself, granting her the wiggle room she needed to get settled.
“He… was an asshole,” she admitted hesitantly, as if worried that Adam would leap from his grave and reprimand her for badmouthing him. “A selfish, narcissistic douchebag of a man… but he also gave me a purpose.”
Her tone hardened as she went on.
“He knew just as well as I did that sinners were a danger to the sanctuary of Heaven, and he made me his right-hand in his army. He listened to me. He took my concerns seriously. He didn’t brush me off like everyone else, like I was nothing. He made me feel… valued, in a way I’ve never felt before. To others, I was just another face in Heaven, but to him… I was more. I was his best Exorcist. I was his most trusted confidant. I was a friend. And maybe if I hadn’t been so scared, I could’ve been more...”
Even from where he sat, the blond angel could pick up on the tinge of longing and regret in his subordinate’s tone. He could tell how deeply she cared for and devoted herself to his father, and for a second, his expression softened into a mix of sympathy and pity.
He gently rubbed the area where Lute’s head was, trying to form the words he wanted to say. He didn’t have time to speak however, before the Exorcist scoffed, reverting to her stoic, uncaring attitude.
“Oh, why am I even telling you this?” She grumbled. “It’s not like you actually care. You probably view me the same as everyone else; a crazy, broken soldier hellbent on vengeance and who should be locked in a mental institution for all eternity.”
Abel’s wings fluffed up slightly at Lute’s accusation, and he shook his head.
“I don’t see you like that, Lute,” he insisted gently. “You’re hurting, and you’re angry, but you shouldn’t be locked up for that. You need to talk to somebody about this. You need to get help. You need…”
He trailed off, trying to find the words.
“... A friend.”
Lute didn’t respond to Abel’s advice, and he awkwardly shifted in his spot, unsure if he was saying the right thing or not.
“And uh, you know, if you ever need to talk to anyone about Dad, I- I can-.”
He was cut off by a scoff from the lieutenant.
“I don’t need a friend,” she declared. “And I don’t need your damn pity. All I need is to watch that princess suffer just as I have.”
Abel’s heart gave an uneasy shudder at the cruelty in the Exorcist’s tone. This drive for blood definitely wouldn’t end well. It never did.
“You’re making a mistake, Lute,” he whispered, resting his chin on his stomach with a look that would put a puppy to shame.
“Save it,” she spat. “Just… Just let me out of here already, will you?”
In spite of his previous eagerness to free her from his digestive system, Abel found himself hesitating, his touch lingering on his abdomen.
Of course, he was eager to hack Lute up and pretend none of this had ever happened. The whole “having a conversation with someone inside of his stomach” thing was really starting to disturb him.
On the other hand, he was concerned about the woman’s mental state and what she would do after he let her out. She was obviously angry and itching to get revenge. What if she lunged at him the second he spat her out and throttled him where he sat? He couldn’t risk getting attacked by her!
But he also couldn’t leave her in there forever. That was completely out of the question.
With a reluctant sigh, Abel gave a small nod, planting himself on the ground.
“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll get you out. Just brace yourself. This part isn’t exactly fun.”
The blond man got on all fours, his hands and knees pressing against the floor as he prepared to release Lute. He pressed one hand against the underside of his belly, taking a deep breath before he proceeded to gag and heave violently to make himself sick.
His poor tummy twisted and churned with every retch, unwilling to let go of its meal so easily. Abel cringed with every vile noise and movement, wishing the process would go by faster and praying to whatever higher being that could possibly be listening that it would.
In an act of mercy, his prayers were answered, as it wasn’t much longer until he felt a familiar pressure in his throat. His mouth dropped as Lute’s head crowned in his jaws. A few more heaves, and the lieutenant landed on the floor with a wet splat, her body drenched with saliva and forbidden stomach juices.
Abel, for his part, spat out remnants of leftover residue, coughing and gasping for air as his belly gurgled angrily.
Ugh… So gross…
Out of the corner of his eye, Abel detected a subtle movement from Lute, and his attention shifted to her. The cold-hearted angel sat up with a disgusted groan, shaking her hands and fluttering her wings to rid herself of the messy fluid.
Adam’s son watched nervously as she forced herself to her feet, turning her head to stare at him with an unreadable expression. He opened his mouth to ask if she was alright, to beg for forgiveness, to plead with her not to murder him where he lay.
“You won’t tell the Seraphim about what’s happened, will you?”
Abel’s jaw hung dumbly open as he processed Lute’s request. Her voice was soft and almost… uncomfortable, no trace of murderous intent towards him in sight.
That was… certainly unexpected.
His mouth shut with an audible click as he nodded, still trying to make sense of Lute’s change in demeanor. The lieutenant, satisfied with his agreement, walked out of the room, looking anywhere but at him as she shut the door behind her.
For the longest time, Abel sat mindlessly on the floor, his eyes wide with surprise as he tried to come to terms with what had occurred. Lute didn’t seem angry with him, at least not anymore, but she wasn’t exactly pleased either. Was she going off to secretly plot his demise? Or was she really going to accept the situation just like that?
A short vibration in his pocket broke the man out of his mini spiral. He dug into it and pulled out his phone, revealing a message from Saint Peter.
“Hey, Abes! Did you get your dad’s guitar yet?”
Abel stared at the text for a minute, rereading it over and over to get his brain back online before he responded.
“Nah, not yet. I’ll get it tomorrow. I’m just gonna head home now.”
He sent the message, and a few seconds later, Peter replied with a thumbs up emoji.
Abel pocketed his phone once again and pulled himself to his feet, steadying himself before dragging himself out of the closet.
He needed to lie down.
Preferably now.
Lute scowled as she stormed back into Adam’s office, throwing the door open so hard, it crashed into the wall with a thunderous SMASH, leaving a few cracks in its wake.
“Whiny, weak, vile little pig,” she muttered viciously, “humiliating me like that.”
She ran her fingers through her slime-coated feathers, grimacing as she wrung them out.
“Disgusting,” she grumbled, wrinkling her nose in disdain. “Nasty prick. I’ll never feel clean again."
“So… how’d it go?”
Lute went tense as she registered her hallucination’s mocking voice.
Great, just what she needed right now.
“Shut up, Adam,” she spat, not even looking at him as she continued to mess with her wings, trying in vain to wipe away any excess stomach fluid clinging to her.
“Adam” smirked, unable to hold back a snort as he floated over to her.
“Aww, now is that any way to speak to the Dickmaster, babe?” He teased. “Come on, spill it. How’d handling my son go? Did you smack him around? Did he cry? Plead for his miserable little life? Did he shit his pants like a bitch?”
Lute’s eyes narrowed as she kept her attention on her wings, unable to even glance in his direction.
“I said shut up, sir,” she repeated firmly, her grip on her wings tightening.
Adam tilted his head as he stared at his lieutenant in an attempt to read her. All of a sudden, his eyes widened, and his jaw dropped in delightfully twisted amusement.
“Wait. Wait a fucking minute, no fucking way! You actually got swallowed by my kid?!”
Lute’s cheeks burned in a mortified blush. How the hell had he figured it out?! She opened her mouth to explain, but her embarrassed protests were drowned out by “Adam’s” booming laughter.
“Holy fucking shit, bitch! I can’t believe you let that little bedwetter eat you! That’s fucking hilarious!”
“I didn’t let him do it!” Lute snapped, her wings flaring out and feathers puffing up. “He- He caught me off guard, damn it!”
Her commander’s laughter didn’t cease. He doubled over, clutching his stomach as he wheezed.
“Oh man, if I wasn’t already dead, that would do me in, because-!”
He was quickly cut off by another wheezing cackle. Lute glared at him with a mixture of humiliation and anger. She tapped her foot impatiently as she waited for him to stop laughing at her pain.
“Are you done yet?” She asked, her irritation loud and clear.
“Adam” wiped a tear from his eye, taking some time to catch his breath before he straightened up with a nod.
“Whew. Yeah, yeah, I’m done, just… damn. It’s about time my son’s finally stopped being a pussy and actually started acting more like his old man. I have to say, I’m almost proud.”
“Oh, well, I’m so happy that you’re happy.”
Lute rolled her eyes sarcastically, turning her head away from her leader again in a poor attempt to hide her bitterness. The first man raised an eyebrow, his smirk returning as he seized the opportunity to poke the bear.
“Why the grumpy face, Lutey? You all pissy after what happened with my kid? Figured you’d be a little more excited after all the times I-.”
Lute whipped around and stuck her finger in his face, her cheeks glowing a flustered glow.
“Don’t even think about finishing that sentence!” She hissed. “I swear to all that is holy-!”
The lieutenant’s threats didn’t faze “Adam” in the slightest. In fact, they only encouraged him. His smirk grew into a cocky grin as he leaned in closer to his subordinate.
“Why not? You don’t want to be reminded of how adorable you looked, all content and curled up in my gut? I remember you practically begging me to swallow you pretty much everyday. “Oh sir. You’re so amazing and sexy and so good in bed! Please let me be your meal! I poured barbecue sauce on myself for you!””
“I never said that!" Lute squawked, her voice betraying just how flustered this conversation was making her.
“Yeah, but you thought about it,” he shot back smugly.
The soldier glared at the apparition with murderous intent, before her gaze shifted to the ground as she crossed her arms with a huff.
“Shut the hell up,” she grumbled.
“You’re not denying it~!” “Adam” sang.
Lute’s glare quickly returned to her superior.
“You are so damn lucky you’re not real or I swear I would’ve strangled you by now.”
Her general smirked at her, not even bothering to hide his amusement.
“Oh, come on, Tits,” he said, moving to stand beside her, “you know I’m just fucking with ya. Besides, I enjoyed it too. It was different from the ways I usually impressed the chicks. A nice change of pace.”
Despite her lingering annoyance, Lute couldn’t help but smile slightly at her boss’s words. She knew he was just saying what she wanted to hear, but at that moment, she didn’t care. She just needed to hear his voice, to listen to the words she’d always wanted him to say, to know that she mattered to him, at least a little bit.
Her smile faded as her gaze fell on the rubble of guitar pieces she’d created before. She knelt down to pick up a string which had miraculously stayed intact, staring at it nostalgically.
“You know,” she began, her voice barely above a whisper. “I never got to tell you that-.”
Adam cut her off with a scoff, eyeing the guitar string she held.
“You think I didn’t already know?”
That caught Lute’s attention, and she looked up at Adam expectantly, daring to allow a glimpse of hope to shine in her eyes.
“Did you?”
She didn’t know what she was expecting to gain from asking.
Closure?
Assurance?
A single shred of comfort from the one person she’d managed to form some sort of connection with?
She got none of that.
Instead, what she got was:
“No fucking idea. If you don’t know, I don’t know, babe,” as “Adam” walked right. fucking. through her.
Lute stared at the ground in silent devastation as the first man leaned against the wall behind her, nonchalantly checking his nails as if he hadn’t just emotionally destroyed her.
“So…” he piped up after a considerable silence. “What you gonna do about it?”
At first, Lute remained still, only staring blankly ahead. Her mind flashed back to that fateful day. She pictured that merciless red-haired goblin stabbing Adam ruthlessly, his final, gentle smile to her, those filthy beasts sneering at her as she wept over the body of the one who’d given her a purpose…
Her expression hardened suddenly, a twisted smile briefly enveloping her features as she uttered her solemn vow.
“I’m going to kill every last one of them.”