Chapter Text
[Purgatory – Azrael’s Mansion]
Lobezno returned to the castle, practically floating on a cloud of endorphins and teenage hormones. The stupid grin from that cosmic kiss with Octavia still hadn’t left his face when his communicator buzzed, snapping him out of it.
It was Vortex, his bro and unofficial emotional support hellhound.
Lobezno (Text):
“Guess who’s no longer a lonely, lip-virgin archangel, bro.”
Vortex:
“NO WAY, dude! Spill it. Full gossip. How’d it go, Wolv— I mean, Lobezno?”
Lobezno:
“A lot of shit happened, you know my life’s a mess. But after we beat the crap out of the Scarecrow… it just flowed. We kissed. Like— in space. Zero gravity and all that crazy stuff.”
Vortex:
“HELL YEAH! You did it! See? I told you to follow my advice. No freaking out like a middle-schooler. Bee even called it at the gala— ‘Those two have nauseating lovebird energy,’ and she’s never wrong.”
Lobezno smirked, his ears burning.
Lobezno:
“You’re kidding… so everyone knew except me? Wow. Embarrassing. But now that it’s official, I’ve got a bigger problem.”
Vortex:
“Let me guess… the Old Owl.”
Lobezno:
“Yep. He already hated me just for visiting her. Now that there’s… something real? He’s gonna lock me in a tower.”
Vortex:
“And what’s the plan? Because lying to Azrael is like trying to hide an elephant in a bathroom.”
Lobezno stared out at the gothic skyline of Purgatory, thinking.
Lobezno:
“I’m going with ‘ask for forgiveness, not permission.’ I’ll try to talk to him, but I can already smell the three-hour lecture about ‘responsibility’ and ‘Death doesn’t have time for dating.’ It’s gonna suck.”
Vortex:
“Good luck, man. But hey— now you gotta behave better than ever. Or at least pretend. Though… you do seem different. Your little star got you whipped, huh?”
Lobezno (blushing hard):
“Tch. Says the lapdog of Beelzebub. She says ‘jump’ and you ask ‘how high, my queen.’ Don’t act innocent.”
Vortex:
“Hey! That’s called professional respect. Anyway— good luck with your father-in-law.”
Lobezno pocketed the communicator as he reached the mansion. Under his arm was a pizza box he had “liberated” from a distracted delivery guy. He adjusted his jacket and activated stealth mode.
[Inside the Mansion – Operations Chamber]
Azrael sat on his leather throne, surrounded by holographic screens bathing his pale face in ghostly blue light. He reviewed ancient files— centuries-old news still circulating through celestial tabloids.
“Archangels Capture the Feathered Demon King — Azrael and Michael Strike Again.”
Azrael (thinking):
“Centuries later and they’re still crying about it. Pathetic.”
His mind drifted back to the last threat that Goetia king had spat before being chained:
“This won’t… be the last you see of us.”
Azrael (thinking):
“We wiped out his entire court. Feathers and all. Yet the old bird still breathes in Tartarus…”
He closed the files with a sharp gesture. His ancient detective instincts screamed that something was wrong.
It was always the same— calm before the shitstorm.
Azrael (muttering):
“Michael was always too optimistic. Too golden. I don’t have that luxury.”
A silent alarm buzzed in his mind. Someone had entered the perimeter.
He didn’t need sensors— he knew his pupil’s energy signature better than his own.
He glanced toward the hall and saw Lobezno tiptoeing along the wall like a cartoon burglar.
Azrael:
“Seriously? That’s his stealth level after six months of training? An insult to my teaching.”
[West Hallway – Near the Kitchen]
Lobezno crept forward, holding his breath, convinced he was invisible.
Turning a corner, he nearly crashed into Perrito, the mansion’s cherub-pet, floating happily.
Lobezno (whispering):
“Phew… dodged the paranoid old man. I’m a ninja.”
—He showed the box—
“Hey, Perrito. Pizza. Celebrating the fact that I’m still alive.”
Perrito:
“Ooooh! Pizza! Perfect timing! Moroes and I were buying ingredients for Minions cupcakes, but I got hungry halfway.”
—his tail wagged—
Lobezno:
“Yeah… Moroes and his weird tastes. Hey— you know where Azrael is? I’m trying not to run into him.”
Perrito (smiling innocently):
“Yup. He’s standing right behind you with the ‘I want to dismember someone’ face.”
Lobezno froze. Slowly turned his head.
Azrael stood there, tall and looming, black wings wrapped around him like an irritated Dracula cape. The height difference made Lobezno feel like a chihuahua facing a doberman.
Lobezno (thinking):
“Well… I’m screwed.”
Azrael (cold voice):
“Lobezno. What are you doing here at this hour? And why do you smell like cheap pepperoni? Did you really think you could bypass my security with preschool-level stealth?”
Lobezno (nervous, hiding the box):
“Uh— Boss! Wow, what a coincidence. Nothing, just— bought it like a responsible Hellhound because, y’know… patrols make a guy hungry. Dog metabolism.”
Azrael scanned him like a lie detector— hormones, fear, and bullshit lighting up all at once.
Azrael (dry):
“A ‘responsible Hellhound.’ Of course. And what strategic hunt requires pizza at three in the morning? You weren’t hunting souls. I know you.”
He stepped closer, invading Lobezno’s space.
Azrael:
“Do you think I’m stupid? Do you think I don’t know when you lie to my face?”
Lobezno (sighing, giving up):
“Alright, fine. You got me. I didn’t tell the whole truth. I grabbed the pizza because it was there and lonely. But I did do my job. Caught the specter Satan assigned me. Solo. It’s in the jar. Easy job.”
Azrael rolled his eyes.
Azrael:
“Easy? Your damn wounds say otherwise. Don’t forget who taught you to track… and to lie better than that.”
Lobezno lowered his guard.
Lobezno:
“I know… I’ll patch up and sleep. Perrito and I’ll finish the pizza before it gets cold.”
He looked down. Perrito had already taken a massive bite.
Perrito (mouth full):
“Oops.”
Lobezno:
“…or what’s left of it.”
He tried to slip away. Azrael blocked him again— this time not angry, just tired.
That parental tired that scared Lobezno more than yelling.
Azrael (almost joking, producing bandages):
“You’re lucky I’m too old to chase you through hallways.”
—He tossed them—
“And don’t think I didn’t hear about the Scarecrow incident. Are you insane? You put her in danger.”
The air tightened.
Lobezno:
“Yes. We met. And? She wants to see me, and I want to see her. I know the mess I’m in, but it’s our choice. I’m serious about this.”
Azrael (snapping):
“Do you realize the Goetia have had us in their sights for centuries?! And you decide to get involved with the heir?! This isn’t teenage nonsense, Lobezno! That caste is lethal! She could be using you to reach me— did you even think about that?!”
Lobezno:
“Her family might be manipulative trash, but she isn’t! I know you’ve got your past scars, but Via isn’t guilty of her last name!”
Azrael’s anger deflated, revealing old pain beneath.
Azrael:
“Maybe she’s innocent… but her caste never plays clean.”
Lobezno:
“Then all the more reason to protect her. If they’re using her, she’s a victim too— and I won’t let her fall.”
Azrael:
“Protecting her doesn’t mean walking into a trap.”
Lobezno:
“How are you so sure?! You never had someone you wanted to save like this!”
Silence fell like a gravestone.
Azrael clenched his jaw— memories of Mephistopheles burning through him.
Azrael (low, dangerous):
“I did. And it broke me in ways you can’t imagine. Don’t compare it.”
Lobezno swallowed.
Lobezno (quiet):
“I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have said that. But I feel what you felt. If I screw up, that’s on me. But maybe— just maybe— this time it’ll be different.”
Azrael exhaled.
Azrael:
“Love makes you vulnerable. It hands your enemies a loaded weapon aimed at your chest.”
Lobezno:
“Yeah… but it also gives us a reason to fight back. Just— let me introduce her someday. She doesn’t care about titles. She sees me as a normal Hellhound.”
Perrito (hugging both their legs):
“Yes! A normal family! A very dark, messed-up one, but together! Like the Addams, with more trauma!”
Azrael rubbed his face.
Azrael:
“Fine. I’ll allow your… ‘relationship.’ But if your performance drops even one percent, say goodbye to dates. And be careful. I don’t want to bury you because of your stupidity.”
Lobezno grinned.
Lobezno:
“Got it, Old Man.”
They ran off.
Azrael watched them, shaking his head.
Azrael (thinking):
“Damn brat… he’s too much like me.”
From the shadows:
Moroes:
“‘Normal family,’ sir? How quaint. At this rate I’ll have to embroider ‘Papa Bear’ on your battle cloak.”
Azrael paused in the doorway of his office and glanced sideways at Moroes, his expression feigning seriousness.
Azrael:
Moroes...
Moroes:
Yes, Master?
Azrael:
Prepare some tea for me... I will need... to review old reports more thoroughly.
Moroes bowed dramatically, a spark of triumph flashing in his eyes.
Moroes:
As you wish, "Father of the Year."
Azrael:
Get out of here before I assign you to patrol the confinement for life!
Moroes withdrew with a stifled chuckle, finally leaving Azrael alone with his thoughts. The Archangel entered his office, sank into his large leather chair, and, though no one was there to judge him, allowed a tiny, almost invisible smile to cross his face.