THE DEVIL IS IN LA

part 1 . lucifer stay, good devil

He's not really going anyplace specific, he's just the Devil, on an afternoon stroll. Lucifer laughs quietly at his joke, as he causally walks up Hollywood boulevard, his hands in his pockets.

"Save your soul! Save your soul, I ask you!
I ask you to repent! Repent your sins! It's all coming to an end! The Devil walks among us!" A man cries with exuberant fervor.

"You have no idea how right you are!" Lucifer says, coming to a stop and smiling at a short, white man with finely combed, shoulder length blonde hair, wearing a black suit jacket with a black turtleneck, black dress pants, and a white collar. "Bless you." The priest says, smiling at Lucifer. "Have you seen the face of the Devil?" He asks feverishly, pointing at him. "Only every, morning, in the mirror, pal." Lucifer says, nodding at him.

"Exactly! He's in all of us! In our every moment of weakness. Look at the world! The sin, the lust! It is the Devil's work!" The man shouts. "Uh. No, don't give me credit for all that. You humans do all of that all on your own." Lucifer says angrily, his smile slipping off of his handsome face.

The priest takes off the small mic he's wearing and looks at Lucifer. "Hey man, can you move your shtick along? I'm not sharing my tips with you, if that's what you're angling for." He says quietly, still smiling, speaking through his teeth.

"Oh. Right." Lucifer says, understanding. "Is this an act? Like good ol' Peter Parker down the street? If so, I have to say, you're very good!" He tells him cheerfully.

"Yeah, whatever man. Thanks. But I'm gonna have to ask you politely to leave. You're bad for business." The priest says coldly, stepping away from Lucifer.

He clips his microphone back onto his collar and starts his animated cries again. "Repent!" He repeats. "The Devil -" "Isn't finished with you yet." Lucifer says, his lip curling.

"You see, what I hate more than anything is a liar. Someone who doesn't believe in what they say." He says quietly.

"So? What are you gonna do about it?" The man masquerading as a priest asks, defiantly.

"Why, make you a believer, of course." Lucifer says pleasantly. His face flashes with the horror of red, burned, callous skull. The man screams.

"Stay back! Stay back! He's the Devil!" He shrieks, pointing at Lucifer. "This isn't an act! He's the Devil! He's the Devil!" The man says, screaming again.

He gives Lucifer one last look as he sprints down the street, kicking over the glass jar filled with money that had been placed at his feet. It shatters, and broken glass litters the crowded boulevard. He shoves a woman out of his way, trying to put as much distance as possible between him and Lucifer on the busy sidewalk. The woman almost falls, thankfully clutching onto a streetlight.

Onlookers try to grab the money flying into the air, people walking by stop on the star-lined street to pick it up, while others clap avidly at (what they think is) the show.

"It's true. It is true." Says Lucifer, smiling widely at the crowd. "Yes, yes. Thank you. I'm, here till, well! The end of time, actually." He says, laughing in delight.

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Later that day...

"So... You're the Devil." Says Dr. Martin. "Yes. Satan, Beelzebub, Old Scratch. Actually, I like that one in particular." Says Lucifer. He smiles, pausing for a moment. "But, uh, those were the old me. These days, you just have plain old Lucifer." He says, crossing his legs, and clasping his hands together on his knee.

He's in Dr. Martin's office again. He's in therapy now. Lucifer. Him. The Devil. In therapy. How absurd. Lucifer shakes his head, laughing softly at his thoughts.

"And you've left Hell behind... to take a vacation... in Los Angeles." Dr Martin says slowly, narrowing her piercing blue eyes.
"Well, where else would I go?" Lucifer asks wonderingly. "You don't seem too bothered by my being the Prince of Darkness." He adds, looking at Linda with a causal smile.

"I'm willing to work within your metaphor." She says, looking at him intently. "Right." Lucifer says, nodding. "Sometimes it's easier to make intimate issues about something bigger than yourself." Linda continues, explaining, and Lucifer smoothly cuts in after she speaks.

"Well, darling, there are few things bigger than myself." He says, smiling. "I'm well aware." She says, remembering, as Lucifer lets out a deep laugh. "Last we spoke, you were bothered about feelings of humanity." She says, trying to continue their session.

"I was, yes, but I have good news for you on that front." Lucifer says, happily, "I'm healed!" He says, in a stage whisper - winking conspiratorially at her.

"Is that so?" She asks, skeptically. "Yes. I'm back to my normal, devilish self. No pesky empathy to be found. I'd kick a puppy if one waltzed by. I'm joking. Puppies don't waltz." He says, laughing.

"You like to hide insecurity in humor, don't you?" Dr. Martin asks, knowledgeably. Her clean, glossy black glasses shine in the sunlit room, as her icy blue eyes look intently into his. "I don't have any insecurities." Lucifer says, airily.

"Oh. Everyone does." Linda says - unperturbed, crossing her legs. "Very well. I'll play your game. What do you think I'm insecure about?" He asks, leaning back on the sofa.

"That you are changing, but that you don't know what's causing the change. Or who."
She says simply.

"We'll pick this up next time." Linda says without warning, standing up from her chair. She walks toward Lucifer, unbuttoning her white dress shirt. "What? Oh, very well. A deal's a deal." He says. "Though, why do I feel like you're getting more out of our bargain than I am?" Lucifer asks, starting to unbutton his own black dress shirt, as Linda suddenly jumps on top of him. "Ooh! Hello!"

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