sixthiterationlogs | if you're gonna wanna fly, you gonna have to crash

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if you're gonna wanna fly, you gonna have to crash

WHO: Lucifer Morningstar
WHERE: Near the river
WHEN: March 10
OPEN TO: OTA
WARNINGS: Geese on Man violence

He's found the interesting little vending machine during one of his sojourns out and about.

It's a pretty little thing, but it is interesting that of all the powers within it, not a single one appears to be his. It's only further evidence to him that Dad doesn't want him to have proper fun, though at least he can have some sort of a good time. It's also a shame no one thought to stock the vending machine with at least one row of Twinkies. If you're going to have the technology, you might as well best use it.

He's whistling and chipper as he selects rapid regenerative healing and makes a note to come back for some of the other extremely helpful powers that are on display. Once he's pressed the button, he now needs to make the more important discovery and see if it's worked.

No time like the present.

He recalls seeing the geese-like animals near some of the bodies of water, which is perfect. It's not so large that if this healing hasn't kicked in, he'll be dead, but he also knows that geese at home are vicious enough that he'll have quick success if he does this right. It's not far before he finds some milling about the river, looking fretfully calm. If Lucifer has a talent (of which he has many, but this is paramount), it's being able to annoy something into a rage.

"Come on, then!" he demands, shouting loudly and splashing them with water, getting right into their little fiendish faces to agitate them. "I know you're Dad's least favourite creatures," he taunts. "Come and do something about it, will you?" He's ever closer, making loud noises against each of their squawks, and eventually, enough noise, flapping of his arms, and splashing does the trick.

The nearest one lunges for him with an intent to bite and bite it does, sinking its teeth into Lucifer's skin. He lets out a howl of surprise, tinged with delight, and steps back to see if that will do the trick, looking at the punctured skin with eager fascination.

To anyone looking in from the outside, maybe they would think that he's lost his mind, but Lucifer might just have a way to get part of his powers back and he's thrumming with the excitement of it, staring at his arm like it's treasure and not just a nasty goose bite.

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"To getting knocked about? Usually I talk long enough and someone's rushing to help," he remarks, with the self-awareness that comes with experience. Then again, he also used to have Maze, who wouldn't hesitate for a single second before she came at him with sharp objects to cut him to ribbons.

He pushes both hands out, giving her an encouraging look. "See? It's already healing, I need to test a deeper wound, a bigger injury," Lucifer demands. "I need to know I'm not vulnerable, anymore!"

That does pique her interest. She drops down to the ground to get a little closer. Not close enough to threaten the geese. She may be from the big city, but she knows how geese are.

"Invulnerable would mean you wouldn't get injured. What you're talking about is a healing factor. Why didn't you just get a knife?"

"Because I may be trying to test out my limits, but I'm not suicidal," he scoffs. She's right, though. This isn't truly his power, because unless the detective is around, nothing actually affects him, but he'll take a runner-up power at this point.

"Go on, then," he encourages. "Usually people don't need more than one invitation to punch me in the face, let's see how quickly I can heal, or should I go back after the goose?"

She raises an eyebrow at him, utterly unimpressed. Sure, there are all sorts of ways she knows how to hurt him- if she wanted to.

"Leave the poor goose alone, it's not even stopping traffic. C'mere." She pulls a throwing knife out of her pocket (one of many, rest assured) and spins it around her thumb once before catching it.

His eyes light up the moment he sees the shiny glint of a dangerous knife, since he knows that it's liable to do the exact amount of damage that he wants. Laughing with the riotous sound of an idiot who's about to get what he wants, he extends his arm out.

"Oh, do help with that," he encourages, rolling up his sleeve and sticking it out like he's anxiously waiting to give blood.

She rolls her eyes while he laughs. Yeah, she gets it. The moment she could turn into a bird she wanted to move into the sky full time. Still, it’s a little creepy talking to an out-and-out masochist.

"Please don’t hand your major arteries out to strangers," she lectures exactly as though he were a child. "Most of them probably don’t know where they are." She takes his wrist and turns it with the professionalism of one who does know where arteries are, turning it the opposite way around so they aren’t so close to the surface. She has the knife up to his wrist just under the thumb before she pauses.

Maybe this is a bad idea. And if Steph thinks it’s a bad idea it has to be a really terrible idea, right? No, no, don’t be silly. She’s just skittish because the last time she was this close to blood she blacked out a little.

"Uhhhh if I pass out please use my hair tie to cut off the circulation," she says quickly, and before either of them can change their minds she cuts a fast but deliberate line that stops short of his inner elbow, carefully avoiding those arteries.

She does not pass out. She does, however, get suddenly very weak and very nauseous.

"I've never needed to worry about it previously," Lucifer says chipperly, given that he's been in more than enough drive-bys to know that he can survive just about anything. Or, at least, he could until he'd met the Detective and then again when he'd woken up half-drowning in water here. It seems that Dad is a bit eager to throw the punishment at him.

He raises a brow when she talks about passing out, so no waving his bloody arm around, is what he's hearing.

He hides the arm as best as he can from her, but watches it fiercely, almost as if willing it to heal faster. It starts to knit, slowly, and then better, and his smile turns almost manic in its delight. "Well, at least I know I can't be killed that easily anymore."

She looks away as soon as she can, but she really has to ask why she keeps doing this to herself. At least she's gotten used to cleaning blood off her knives, even if it does bring back bad memories. She wipes her off now on the grass, then stands up again to hazard a glance at the arm.

"Maybe, maybe not," she says reasonably.

"How do you feel about broken bones?" Because she feels way better about breaking bones than drawing blood.

"Less eager," Lucifer says, possibly because they're not visible and also because if the wound didn't heal instantly, then he's not as sure about the bones. Maybe they could start with something, small though? "I've heard that pinky toes throw off your balance, but they're very small and I don't think it would cause me much harm."

Besides, stomping on his toes is not a new experience for him. He's had it done to him with stilettos, army boots, and so many other types of shoes. He bends down to start taking off his shoe and sock. "Shall we try that?"

She almost smiles. He doesn’t want to start with his nose, huh.

"Pinkie fingers are easy too. Alright, find a rock to put your foot on." She’s used to doing damage with much better shoes than just hiking boots, but she’s pretty sure she’ll manage. And if she doesn’t, she can always snap his pinkie finger.

"You know, I’ve done some weird stuff in my life, but this is definitely the strangest way I’ve ever helped someone."

Once they’re both in position she aims the center edge of her bootheel to hit squarely just under his toe and stomps down as hard as she can.

He's making a face, like he's already thinking about how much he's regretting this, but he's still going through with it. He shifts over to a rock after rolling up his pant-leg, not intending to get any blood or muck on them if that's what they're doing.

"I could say that, but I'd be lying. I've been in much stranger circumstances," he guarantees, and if anyone wanted a good read of at least a few of them, they could check the Bible for a few good tales.

"Okay," he breathes. "Re..." He yelps loudly when she stomps on his toe and it hurts like a motherfu....

"Fuck!"

She raises her eyebrows at him, torn between amusement and unimpressed.

"Who needs the anticipation, amiright?" She stands back and puts her hands in her pockets, watching and waiting for him to cool down. In the mean time...

"Yeah, the brand of 'weird' we get in Gotham is kinda... mundane. Not as many alien invasions or attempts to end the world. What few metahumans we have tend to be more about money and murder than mass destruction. I mean, there's the Joker, who's a mass murderer, but he's just a psychopathic clown. But hey, weird by those standards!"

He's breathing rapidly and he'd curse more and cry more, but right now he hasn't got the energy to do other than stand there, tears welling up in his eyes, and bite down on his fist to try and stem the pain -- because there is so, so much pain.

"Metahumans?" he latches on, while his bone starts to reknit, his body heals. "What sort of metahumans are we talking about, do they have special powers like this?"

And if so, does Lucifer somehow know them, he wonders?

"Humans with powers," she explains. "As opposed to aliens, hyper intelligent gorillas or... I dunno, demons?" She thinks she remembers a demon in Batman’s files. Erigorn or something?

"Let’s see, who is there... Poison Ivy, she was exposed to chemicals that gave her the power to control and grow plants. She’s mostly an eco-terrorist or I’m sure we’d have way more trouble with her than we do. Killer Croc, he used to be human. Now he’s like... a giant crossed with a lizard. Not as croc-y as you’d expect. Clayface, that’s a rough one. He’s a shapeshifter, but he can’t hold on to his old shape so well anymore. That’s pretty much what we’ve got for supervillains in Gotham." She pauses a moment to think, frowning at nothing in particular.

"I don’t think I know anyone with a healing factor. Superman and them are all invulnerable, but they’re aliens.... Oh, the Flash! His speed thing makes him heal, I think."

"Demons aren't overly powered, they're simply built stronger," he says calmly, given that he has a great deal of personal experience with a great many demons and has always admired them for their stick-to-it-tiveness and the way that they accomplish a task.

The thirst for blood also comes in handy when there's dirty work to be done.

"These are all very unfortunate names," says the man named Lucifer Morningstar. "This healing, though. Is it instant?" He's staring at his toe, which is healed, but the pain had been there and the healing certainly wasn't. "I miss my invulnerability," he complains.

She shrugs in response to his statement about demons. She wouldn’t know, so she’ll take it on faith.

"I don’t know, I’ve never seen it in person. But reporters tend to name bad guys, and the names tend to stick. I guess if they tried they could change it. I know Ivy chose hers."

She steps closer to take a look at his toe. There’s no swelling, but she supposes she should have expected that.

"How’s your toe? Does it still hurt at all?"

He wriggles the toe slightly and looks at it. It's no longer bent or bleeding out, though it still bears the mark that it once was, which is very much like the way it used to be. "It's all better," he says, "and no one even had to kiss it that way."

Does he sound disappointed? Yes, he thinks he does.

"I was given my name, but I'm also not a villain, no matter what everyone would have you believe," he says, with a huffy sniff. "I know a man who had a name. Sinnerman," he says darkly. "Somehow, far more cheesy than his actual name."

She snorts, just barely covering a laugh.

"The 'Sinnerman'? Wow. Wait, don't tell me: his real name is 'Bob'." She's not very easy to impress with scary villain names. Having a guy called 'The Joker' terrorize your town all your life will have that effect on a person.

"You know, I don't actually know your name, either."

"I'm Lucifer Morningstar," he introduces himself, rather than tell her that the Sinnerman is also the world's first murderer, seeing as he doesn't want to give Pierce all that credit when he'd probably just enjoy it every step of the way.

That simply won't do.

"And you are? Other than very adept at toe-breaking?"

She recognizes the name 'Lucifer', in more ways than one. 'Morningstar' she could take or leave, honestly. But she raises her eyebrows at the guy who slept with one of her best friends.

"Stephanie Brown. I'm well versed in the breaking of many limbs." He did ask, sort of.

"So, Lucifer, as in...?" He knows what she's asking.

"The devil," he replies cheerfully, with absolutely no shame in his voice at the fact that he's confessing to this. After all, why should he? He's proud of everything he's done and does, so why not admit to it.

"Don't worry, pop culture has done me terribly wrong. I'm not here for your soul," he assures, seeing as humans do it to themselves. He'd really just been a glorified guard throughout it all.

She considers him for a moment. She should probably be scared, right? Or having some kind of religious epiphany or something. That would be a normal reaction to meeting the devil. But then, it's hard to be scared of a guy who almost screamed when you broke his toe.

"Well that's good. I was just starting to like my afterlife."

He could bring up the part where he could offer her a favour, but he doubts that he could get the business up and running quite in the way he would want to be known for operating. He has a standard to uphold. "This is nothing like the afterlife I used to manage," he says, half-boasting.

"I was all about free will. No one ever believed it, of course," he says, waving it off. "I was, though. I let you humans have your pick of what happened to you."

She shudders to think of what that sort of Hell would have had in store for her. Then again, surviving would have been its own sort of punishment too. Then she frowns as a thought occurs to her.

"Does that mean that nothing happens to sociopaths and narcissists if they go to Hell?"

"Don't worry, I make sure that they're prepped and ready," Lucifer guarantees. Sometimes, chains and demons are required, which is why he employs so many handy ones. "Even them, you show them a flicker of the devil face and they begin to have doubts. If not, they don't get to go into the Silver City," he assures.

"If you're bound for hell, you go there, one way or another," he assures, "what happens once you're there, well, that's up for interpretation."

if you're gonna wanna fly, you gonna have to crash

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cw: blood, is this technically knife play...

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