And then, there was light.

  Fluorescent light.

  Harsh, concentrated, fluorescent light, glaring into our poor Lucifer’s bleary eyes.

  Its assault was accompanied by far-off whispers (“Is he okay?” “I dunno, move over, I can’t see!”), close-up grumbles (“Looks like he's okay.” “Sigh. Great.”), and the sound of papers being flipped around (fshp fshp).

  The glare—from a flashlight, he realized—clicked off, plunging him back into darkness.

  He was splayed out in a bed of grass, if the dew settling into the back of his shirt said anything. The moon lurked up high. But suspiciously so; it was far enough away to blend in with the stars. Its glow was dingy and weak, just enough to show the silhouette of the figures crowding around him.

  Lucifer sat up and cleared his throat, inching away from them. No one approached, or even spoke too loudly, but he knew all too well what the Guards of the Throne were like. Rough-and-tough gangster types who took joy in shot-putting former angels down to Hell rather than letting them take the stairs.

  So, Lucifer mentally rehearsed his lines. “Guards!” he’d demand, voice firm, chest puffed-out. “Dilly dally no longer! The time for redemption has come; take me to our Father this instant!”

  He mouthed it to himself, savoring the bite on it before he let a grin slip out.

  Yes. Precisely.

  He pushed his shoulders back and opened his mouth to speak, but a sudden sound cracked through the air like a whip, snatching the wind from his sails. It was a barrage of clicks—sticky, loud and unmistakable, the tell-tale sound of an army of pens snapping to attention.

  A chorus followed, droning out a single word, that word. Stale and practiced, just as he’d heard it the first time.

  “Name.”

  The word froze Lucifer.

  I-impossible… Is this another Check-In Point?

  He racked his brain, trying to recall what had happened after he’d pressed that godforsaken button on that godforsaken tablet. He could have sworn it read, “Wake Up God”, not “Wake Up In Your Personal Sisyphean Hell, Populated By Several Clones Of That Pantsuit-Wearing, Fingernail-Filing, Shrewd-Eyed Brat.”

  Before he could make sense of anything, a soft light slipped through the leaves above, just enough to highlight the shock in their eyes. Another light appeared, then another, and another, making a constellation in the dark.

  The group stalled, all wide eyes and sharp breaths, until someone wisened up, yelling, “Run!”

  In an instant, the group scattered, every man for himself. Footsteps pounded in every direction. Shouts echoed against the trees.

  And when the dust settled, Lucifer was left gaping like a fish as lights continued to spread across the building like wildfire. Shadows pressed against window panes, pointing and gawking at the man below.

  It didn’t take long for the building to take shape. The light revealed its steep staircase, its sprawling East and West ends, and the perfectly manicured lawn Lucifer was loitering in.

  “Jesus,” Lucifer whispered, taking in the mansion before him. He was convinced that if he squinted, he’d see diamonds glistening along its pearly edges. But before he could utter the words, “Impressive architecture,” the spell was broken.

  Because along the top of the building, etched into its stone was its name. It was a long, ridiculous name, containing a phrase he never thought he’d see twice in one lifetime:

  THE REGIONAL OFFICE OF THE HEAD ASSISTANT MANAGER’S ACTING ADMINISTRATOR-IN-TRAINING-BY-PROXY

  …

  Lucifer shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

  Because he was in some sort of in-house courtroom. Also because his bindle, that tablet, and what remained of his confidence had been snatched away and “taken for investigation.” Not to mention, his skin felt like it was curdling under the heated stares of the twenty-four pantsuit-wearing, fingernail-filing, shrewd-eyed individuals packed around him on curved pews.

  And if all of that weren’t enough, his chair was awfully hard on his tush.

  He scoured the room—twice—and thankfully did not see the little girl from the Check-In Point. But instead, he found pecking eyes, hands covering whispering lips, and an impenetrable cloud of tension in the air. He could practically hear their thoughts spilling from their ears:

  We know it’s you, Satan.

  You don’t belong here.

  You’re going back to Hell.

  Seconds built up to minutes and minutes began to feel like hours as Lucifer stewed in his own angst, replaying and regretting what would inevitably be his final moments in Heaven.

  (“Unhand me, you brutes! I assure you that I can walk on my own,” he hollered, struggling against the two burly guards dragging him up the mansion’s stairs. Another two walked alongside them, huddled together, poking around in his bindle. “And you, return my belongings, immediately!”

  “…”

  To Lucifer’s surprise, the two holding him actually relented, straightening him out and letting him go. But the others completely ignored him, still having a ball toying with his souvenirs.

  “Thank you. Now. Can’t we discuss this like gentlem—oh!”

  The four guards all shared a look over his head as he struggled to gain his footing. Lucifer wobbled, stabilized for a second... then his legs reduced to overcooked noodles. He yelped, hands flailing, as they folded beneath him and he crumpled onto the stairs.

  …Ow.

  The sky swirled together with the four amused faces hovering over him.

  “See?” one of them said gently, picking him up. “We were just trying to help. Fall damage is weird in Heaven. You get jelly bones instead of broken ones.”

  Fall damage? It took Lucifer a moment to recall where he’d heard the term. Huh…They’ve assumed I’m a Level 1. How odd.

  But then he thought about it. Though, how do they suppose a Level 1 gains entry to Heaven?

  The other handsy guard chuckled as they began sliding him along by his forearms again. “Don’t worry. If you manage to make it out of the proceedings alive, we won’t leave one stone unturned,” he paused to grin, looking to the other guards who were stifling laughter. “We’ll make sure to find you a bottle of something real strong. Something to jack your health bar all the way back up to 7.”

  In any other circumstance, Lucifer would have immediately bristled at the offer of drugs. Or the insulting suggestion that he, after millennia of existence, still had a health bar. But his brain snagged on the comment about him “making it out alive.”

  “I’m sorry, what was that, young man? Something about me being alive?”

  The group burst into laughter. They each tried to respond, but only wheezes and guffaws came through.

  Lucifer crossed his arms and stared up at the moon, waiting for the end of their mockery. And I thought those twins were unprofessional. Heaven's in an employment crisis, it seems.

  The seconds ticked on—until a little pixelated envelope appeared out of thin air. Lucifer’s eyes bugged out of his head at the sight. No… no, it can’t be.

  But it was. A shiver raced up his spine as the little icon did a somersault in the air. It was a notification.

  Pa-ding! It chimed, catching the guards' attention.

  "Oooh," the jokester of the guards sing-songed. "Newbie's in trouble!" The others chastised him, but Lucifer couldn't take offense. Because he was right.

  As the envelope continued its little groove, Lucifer caught sight of the sender's name, penned perfectly in that baby blue script he knew all too well.

  Dina.

  It flipped once more before expanding, revealing its contents to Lucifer.

  [Dear Lucifer,

  Greetings from the Heavenly Branch of the Eternal Affairs Office! This is your old friend, Dina :)

  I just issued your Certificate of Rehabilitation and wanted to send a personal note of congratulations! If this reaches you after you pass The Check-In Point, my apologies! The System’s always lagging these days.

  A lot has changed since your… incident all those years ago, so I’ve prepared a quick rundown of the main things you need to know:

  1) God is resting (do not under any circumstances attempt to disturb Him).

  2) Because God is resting, Eternal Affairs doesn't have the power to reassign rebellious Heavenly citizens to Hell after they lose Level 7 status.

  3) Because these citizens are not being reassigned to Hell, we have instead built a 7-level rehabilitation simulation in Lower Heaven that approximates the one you completed in the Greater Eternal Circuit.

  Upon arrival, they’re relieved of 777 Heavenly Points, offered the chance to re-experience Level 1 or 6, depending on their previous Level, and most importantly, they are gifted the opportunity to become the best Heavenly citizens they can be.

  That’s about it for all the major changes! Sorry for the long letter, it’s really just a formality; I know that you of all people won’t have to worry about those kinds of things, right? Haha.

  Anywho, I figured I’d toss in a few more exciting updates to round things out:

  4) There’s a new lazy river in The Land of Milk and Honey (woohoo!). The milk is not flavored (yet) but there’s a hearing for that this weekend. You’d better be there. And you'd better vote for strawberry.

  5) We’ve finally established a trade system with the Earthly Branch of the Eternal Affairs Office (double woohoo!). I think you’ll be most pleased with the Hell x Hell’s Kitchen, New York City snack collaborations—]

  Lucifer didn’t have it in him to finish reading. He didn't even have it in him to swipe the notification away.

  No lazy river. No fun snacks.

  Just exile. All over again.

  “FRONT DOOR OPENED.”

  The alarm system announced their arrival to the mansion, echoing loudly. As the guards lugged the dejected man through the foyer like a sack of potatoes, faces peeked out from cracked doors and from behind pillars. Hushed voices carried up and down the corridors, all asking the same thing:

  “Who is that?”

  And Lucifer was just… still. With a slack jaw and a pounding head, all he could do was stare at the ceiling.

  -777HP.

  Back to Level 6.

  After all that hard work… Rescuing cats from hellhounds, helping the elderly cross the Cross Roads…

  Lucifer shook his head to himself. He was so lost in self-pity that he missed another pa-ding! One that rang throughout the mansion, halting all movement.

  I plan, God laughs. As always.

  With a sigh, Lucifer finally waved the notification away. And it was in good timing, because they’d reached their destination.

  “Alright, newbie, time for the moment of truth,” one of the guards announced as he opened the door. The manhandling half of the detail ragdolled him into a standing position and led him into the dimly lit room.

  As he took in his surroundings, Lucifer’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline. “Gentlemen, I don’t intend to be rude—uh. Oh.” He paused as they seated him in the lone chair at the center of the room, surrounded by pews. “Ah, thank you? But, yes, if I may… why do you all need a courtroom in your office facilities?”

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  The answer was delayed as the two settled in behind his chair, arms crossed behind their backs, faces stone cold. He craned his neck, jaw dropping as the chattier half of the detail handed off his belongings to someone just out of sight in the hallway. “Excuse me, you there! This is theft!” He protested. The guards looked back to him before ushering the person further down the hall.

  “Hey!” He tried again, but this time, his words just echoed against the walls. Defeated once more, he settled back into the chair, eyes fixed to the ground.

  Until a sudden, quiet chatter trickled in from the hall. It grew louder and louder, compounded by the sound of excited footsteps headed his way. He looked up to the stone-faced guards and tried one last time, “Won't you tell me what is going on here?”

  And all he received was silence.

  It wasn't until a sea of baby blue pantsuiters settled into the pews that one of the guards took pity on the confused man. He clapped a heavy hand on his shoulder, leaned down and whispered, “Think of this as a... welcoming ceremony.”)

  Then, after who-knows-how-long, the door creaked open.

  Backs went pin straight. Fingernail files were shoved into pockets. Whispers died mid-sentence. Not even an exhale could be heard beneath the sound of kitten heels clicking against the marble floor.

  Oh dear God, Lucifer thought, twisting around to see who was arriving. But the guards’ thick bodies blocked his view. What now? The President of Eternal Affairs? Even the guards tensed up, clicking their heels together and striking a salute as the person slowly approached.

  But once the figure came into his line of sight, Lucifer had to wipe his eyes hard to make sure he was seeing things correctly.

  The tiniest, sweetest-faced old woman stepped in front of him, hands already extended, like a grandmother ready to pinch some cheeks. Like the others, she donned that baby blue pantsuit adorned with golden rainbow pins. But unlike theirs, hers had her title embroidered on the breast, not tacked on a nametag.

  “Good evening, or… Good morning, I should say—” The woman laughed, turning to the pews. Everyone’s jaws unhinged to let out robotic 'ha-ha-ha's. When she turned back around, their expressions went flat. She reached out and grasped Lucifer's warm face in her hands.

  “Hello, my dear. We’d like to formally welcome you to The Bugaboo Bay. I am the 1st Head Assistant Manager’s Acting Administrator-In-Training-By-Proxy,” she said, “but you’re welcome to call me 1st for short. And you are…” Her voice trailed off as she looked over to his left breast. Her smile faltered as she realized he was not only filthy, but out of uniform, too.

  Oh no. The woman’s troubled expression sent Lucifer’s thoughts racing at record speed. If that little runt is the 61st Head of... whatever she said, then… Oh my days, have I stolen from this woman's great-great-great... great granddaughter?

  Lucifer could practically see 61st’s scowling face transposed over 1st’s. Same upturned nose, same disdain.

  Then, in a stroke of poetic irony, 1st nose actually wrinkled in perfect sync with his vision.

  Oh no. His breath caught in his throat. This degree of rudeness could only be hereditary... She is her grandmother!

  She’ll do worse than leave me in pseudo-Hell. Lucifer felt himself starting to sweat again. 1st noticed and promptly pulled her hands from his damp cheeks. She’ll send me to The Bottom Of The Ocean to test the air quality… or to The Thin Line Between Dreams and Reality to play hopscotch... or—

  “I hope you’ll forgive me, dear," the woman said, interrupting his downward spiral. "But without a nametag...” The venom in her voice was there-then-gone, flashing so expertly that Lucifer was sure he'd hallucinated it, “I’m liable to forget the names of any of my successors. Isn’t that right?”

  She looked back to the pews, giving the seated pantsuiters another cue to burst into laughter. She turned back to him. And again, the ‘teehee’s and ‘hoohoo’s immediately ceased.

  “It’s wonderful to meet you, but… Just who are you?”

  And.

  Instantly, it felt like all of the air was sucked out of the room. Lucifer choked, staring helplessly at the pillar behind the woman’s head as she leaned closer and closer.

  “Are you alright?” She smoothed a hand over his forehead. “Hmm, you are a little warm. 14th, 38th,” The guards standing next to him stiffened. “Did he seem… off when you found him?”

  “Well, now that you mention it, he did hit his hea—” One of them started to answer, but stopped short when the door opened once more.

  All eyes snapped away from him and onto the woman strutting into the courtroom, outfitted in a mismatched pajama set and a hair bonnet. Poker-faced, she braced herself against the wall and waved 1st over. And to Lucifer's surprise, the woman obliged, quietly excusing herself. Once 1st was in her grasp, the new woman drew her close and began to whisper in her ear.

  No one in the pews dared to speak, but their body language said everything Lucifer needed to know. Eye rolls, folded arms, and scoffs took over the crowd as the moment dragged on.

  The woman's body language wasn't shy either. Rounded shoulders, he observed. Hand on the hip. An almost threatening level of nonchalance as she side-eyed the sea of contempt in the pews. With a nod, Lucifer settled back in his chair—he knew her type.

  Just like that 61st brat. Another nepotism hire.

  “Oh…” 1st mumbled, drawing back. “So you mean to say…?” The woman pulled away with a flat look, as if to say, “C'mon, grandma. That's exactly what I'm saying.”

  She reached into her pocket and passed 1st a little card. 1st brought her reading glasses down from her hair to get a better look at it. And while 1st was busy studying the card, the new woman grilled Lucifer with those bored eyes, heated but underwhelmed all at once. He could only hold her unblinking gaze for a moment before returning his eyes to the floor.

  After a long, pregnant pause, 1st nodded and returned the card to the woman.

  Then, with a hopeful look in her eye, 1st stepped back into the center of the room and called out, “Johnn?”

  Lucifer, confused, looked to the guards standing behind him, waiting for one of them to respond to her. But they were unmoved, as if they hadn’t heard the woman. When he looked back to 1st, her face was contorted in concern.

  What is going on here? “I’m sorry, ma'am, are you speaking to me? My name isn't—”

  “Johnn.” The other woman cut in sternly before Lucifer could finish his thought. She stalked over and lowered herself to his eye level.

  “January 4, 1987. That ring any bells?” …No?

  But the woman didn’t leave room for an answer.

  “How about 104,683,020,704?” ...Absolutely not. “Your Soul ID?” Wrong again. Lucifer’s was nice and simple: 666.

  Sucking in a breath, she flipped the card in her hand to a stupefied Lucifer, tapping on the plastic impatiently.

  “Johnn von Wigglestein.” She enunciated loudly and slowly, dragging her finger under the words. “I heard you hit your head on the way in, but you’ve at least gotta know your name, right?”

  And.

  Oh. That.

  The woman blinked. Once, then twice, with each one landing like a gavel.

  “61st Head Assistant Manager’s Acting Administrator-In-Training-By-Proxy. Otherwise known as my replacement.” The pews creaked under bodies leaning in and fingertips biting into the wood in anticipation. “’s you, correct?” The guards tilted forward too, squinting at his floundering expression. Even the walls felt like they were closing in on him, as if they too were eager for his answer.

  And Lucifer just swallowed. Loudly.

  What do I say? What can I say?

  He knew very well the penalty for lying. He could see the message from Dina already:

  [Dear Lucifer,

  Have you heard the saying, “Liar, liar, pants on fire?”

  That’s what you’ll be if you don’t get your act together, friend. I’ve relieved you of 7 Heavenly Points.]

  The woman, 60th, evidently, narrowed her eyes dangerously, seemingly screaming, “Smile and nod, idiot. There’s only one answer here.”

  And, never being one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Lucifer smiled… but he held off on the nod. Plausible deniability, and all.

  Still, it was good enough for them. The room let out a sigh of relief.

  1st turned back to the pews and gave a nod, prompting everyone to reach into their pockets. Lucifer watched in disbelief as all twenty-four of them produced stones. 1st let out a little laugh at Lucifer's expression as the guards came around to collect them. “Thankfully, we won’t be needing those this time around. Splendid, don't you think?”

  1st clasped her hands together and put on a big smile. “Ah, I’m so pleased that we could clear this up, 61st. Truly.” She gave a little vial to the guards once they finished their rounds, signaling for them to pass it to Lucifer. He examined it, a little wary of the fact that it was labeled with a drawing of a flexed, muscular arm on it. The accompanying New Item notification didn't help.

  [New ??? Item!

  ★★★★★

  Healing (?) Tonic

  Rumored to be the secret ingredient in Hercules's pre workout drink.]

  “Drink up, my dear. Don't worry, it's been blessed.”

  A polite rejection was on its way up his throat, but the combination of 1st insistent smile and 60th’s insistent glare was enough to pressure him into drinking it. As soon as the liquid hit his tongue, a wave of heat passed through him, burning slowly, as if he’d swallowed a vial full of embers.

  Then the guards hoisted him up from his chair and let go, leaving him to find his land legs again.

  1st shot one last look back at the pews, prompting everyone to stand and give a round of applause. Then as soon as she turned back around, everyone, including the guards, cleared the room, leaving Lucifer, 1st, and 60th.

  “You can head back to bed, 1st,” 60th said, picking up the empty vial for inspection. “I’ll make sure that he gets to his quarters.”

  “Oh? Well, while I appreciate the offer, 60th, you do know that it’s customary for the original Head Assistant Manager’s Acting Administrator-In-Training-By-Proxy to give newcomers the grand tour.”

  60th gave a tight smile. “Ah, yes. H.A.M. customs... Don’t think any of us ended up here obeying those, 1st.”

  “...”

  The conversation devolved into a nice-nasty spat while Lucifer glanced into the hall, watching as the crowd petered off.

  “Isn't it past your bedtime, 1st? You've gotta take out your dentures, ice your knees, read a bedtime story to your wig... We don't wanna hold you up any longer.”

  “Oh, don't worry about me, my dear. Weren't you already asleep? I assumed you were, seeing as that is the only reasonable excuse for you to greet our newcomer smelling as you do.”

  I could attempt to run, Lucifer mused, watching 60th as she began to work overtime to come up with a comeback. The older woman would break a bone before she reached the doorway, he determined, watching the way her hands trembled as she crossed them over her chest in satisfaction. And this young one… He gave 60th a quick once-over. Bootcut pajama bottoms… childishly oversized slippers... utterly unprepared. Perhaps I’ll—

  But as 60th gesticulated wildly at 1st, eyes on fire, he noticed her white-knuckling the stone still tucked in her fist.

  …Perhaps not.

  At that point, Lucifer had to cut in; teeth were gritted, nostrils were flared. And upon closer inspection, it seemed that 1st was inching her hand toward the stone-shaped bulge in her pocket.

  “Excuse me, ladies, I don’t mean to interrupt,” he started. The two snapped their heads to him in disbelief. “But it is getting quite late, and I would hate to keep you all any further. If you don’t mind, I’ll be leaving first.”

  And without waiting for a response, Lucifer turned and all but sprinted for the door, only to feel two sharp tugs on the back of his shirt. He slowly craned his neck back around, and found himself uncomfortably close to both 1st and 60th.

  “No,” they said in unison, every pretense of politeness dropped. They paused to give one another dirty looks. 1st quickly composed herself and let go of Lucifer.

  “That won't be necessary, darling. We’ll go together.”

  …

  “Ah, and here is our state of the art game room, outfitted with—”

  “Pencils and paper for Tic-Tac-Toe, a single eraser for Hangman, and four blank walls for your viewing pleasure.”

  Lucifer took a peek into the room. And 60th was right. There were a few night-owls playing a riveting game of… I-Spy?

  (“I spy with my little eye… something white!”

  “The wall?” “Noo.”

  “The table?” “Nuh uh.”

  “…The other wall?” “Yes! How’d you guess?!”)

  “Please, 60th, let’s show our newcomer our best behavior.”

  “Sorry, Johnn. There’s enough empty space for Freeze Tag and Duck-Duck-Goose, too.”

  Their long walk through the mansion was much of the same: 1st upselling the bleak, bleak future he was slated to have there, and 60th crashing in with a reality check. After the first few stops, Lucifer decided to hang back. While the two engaged in verbal judo, he took meticulous mental notes of open windows, which doors had the least noisy-looking locking mechanisms, and which corridors were least populated.

  Just as he was finalizing his grand escape, the two stopped in front of a door labeled, “61.” 1st rifled through a comically large ring of keys, with 60th practically breathing down her neck. It took longer than anyone would have liked for her to finally find the right one, and even longer for her to shimmy it off the ring.

  “Here you are, dear.” She passed it to him. “Please take good care of this, as it's the only copy we have.”

  60th leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed as Lucifer opened the door. He could’ve sworn he heard her murmur, “Since when?”

  Lucifer politely ignored the static electricity raging between the two behind him and opened the door to a disappointingly plain set-up. A queen-sized bed, dresser, closet. All white, much like the rest of the house. The only bit of color in the room came from his bindle, tossed haphazardly in the corner. At first, he overlooked it. But once he saw it, he tore into the room.

  Come on, come on…

  He flung the stolen tablet out of his bindle, not even flinching at the clatter it made against the marble. Then he dug, desperate and frantic, through his collection of trinkets and keepsakes. Hoping that maybe, by some stroke of luck that it, the only ‘it’ that mattered to him, had just slipped to the bottom.

  But it wasn’t there.

  “Is everything alright over there, Johnn?” 60th cleared her throat, seemingly hiding the beginnings of a smirk. “All of your belongings should still be there. After all, I did your search, personally.”

  Lucifer locked eyes with her for a long, charged moment. Did she…?

  With a grand sigh, she picked herself up off the door and slung an arm around 1st’s shoulders. “Alright, let’s give Johnn some time to unwind. He’s got a long day ahead of him.”

  1st looked like she wanted to say something else, but 60th tightened her grip and swiftly ushered the frail woman away from the door. As soon as the door clicked shut, Lucifer threw his bindle down on the bed in frustration.

  He paced the room, mind racing—until he stepped on the tablet.

  That’s it, he realized, hurriedly picking it up. I’ll just use the World Map, pick a more pleasant destination, and…

  He clicked it on only to read:

  [THIS DEVICE HAS BEEN REPORTED STOLEN BY THE 61st HEAD ASSISTANT MANAGER’S ACTING ADMINISTRATOR-IN-TRAINING-BY-PROXY.

  IF FOUND, PLEASE RETURN TO HER OR THE NEAREST ETERNAL AFFAIRS OFFICE.]

  His blood ran cold.

  Even if 60th didn’t steal my Certificate of Rehabilitation, even if it just fell somewhere… If she did her due diligence, she saw this message…

  And she knows.

  Lucifer dropped the tablet like it was hot. And stomped on it a few times for good measure. Then he set his sights on the window.

  Up against the cold glass, he stared out onto the moon as he considered his options.

  Though it was unappetizing, he had Option A: Be a sitting duck. Wait to see what 60th had in store for him in the morning.

  But then again, there was Option B: Put his short-term memory to the test and see if he could remember the route to the front door, hoping that the security guards had gone off to bed early.

  And he couldn’t ignore Option C: Jump out of the window and run for his life.

  Just as he started fiddling around with the window’s lock, a knock came from the other side of Lucifer’s door. He looked between the tablet—cracked and now frozen on the message—and the door.

  Jesus H. Christ.

  …Option C it is.

  In a flurry of motion, he shoved everything into his bindle aside from the tablet—that was shoved onto the closet floor and hidden beneath the baby blue pantsuits he’d thrown from their hangers. The person behind the door knocked harder.

  With one last look around the room, Lucifer lifted the window and—

  “ROOM 61 WINDOW OPENED.”

  The robotic voice boomed through the halls. Lucifer shot a desperate look over his shoulder, feeling like a boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

  “61st?!” Alarm coated their voice. They tried the doorknob. “Is everything alright in there?!”

  “Yes, thank you for checking!” he yelled, hiking his leg up over the window sill. “I needed a bit of fresh air, is all. It’s a bit stuffy in here.”

  The person pounded on the door this time. “Uh, you really don’t wanna do that! There are,” The voice dropped an octave. “Things outside at this hour. You don’t wan—”

  The end of their sentence was lost to the wind as Lucifer’s body made a thump against the ground outside.

  “6-61st? Did they get you? Oh fuck, they got him. 61st? 61st?!”

  And as the stranger's cries echoed throughout the mansion, stirring up another round of chaos, Lucifer let out a grin in spite of himself. Because, sure, his first day in Heaven was an absolute mess. And yes, he'd lost the one thing that justified his presence there. But as he took off running, he couldn't help but feel that a Special Someone was still looking out for him after all that time.

  After all, how else could he explain his luck, getting such a solid head start?