“Who is Jeffrey MacLean?”
With a sidelong glance and a bubble popped with his gum, Lucifer wraps up his sixth straight victory on [Super Smash Bros.] and sets down the controller. “Look. I don’t mind it when you come for a visit but I’d appreciate it if you didn’t use that kind of language in my home.
Melancholy grips Mephistopheles in the trachea.
“Second place, always second place,” Vein taunts, uncaring to his rank as last.
Shadow smirks. “Don’t cry, now.”
Mephistopheles cannot stop a single tear from escaping before he gets up and runs to the washroom to interrogate Reflektion about whether it is Ness or Lucas who will finally win him first place. It must be one of the two; they are the only ones Lucifer will not touch.
The Prince of Darkness turns to regard the archangel that is glittering in the corner like a rainbow unicorn in psychiatric unit vistas. “Why the sudden interest in J.C. MacLean?” Lucifer teases, enunciating the initials in mockery.
Micheal sips his beer in distraction. “It has nothing to do with the man himself, just the social network that he carries around. Do not patronize me: The coincidence glares for just one second once a week, but it is always Jeff.”
“The mystery is beyond you and me,” Lucifer dismisses. “A fabled moral gray zone to destroy the binary of ‘good’ and ‘evil’, to put decent and hardworking shmucks like us out of a job. Leave this one alone, Michael, before your reputation is ruined as well.”
“Satan himself playing video games at home on the Saturday night that Lucretia is raped in the market place.” Michael will tell his friends that he was supervising the devil to ensure that God’s prophets were accurate, that Lucifer had no hand in this latest evil, but the eons of imortality at God’s side feel to be slipping away into redundancy at the cosmic happening sliding into place within constellations and open third eyes: Michael wants to be near his primary nemesis for comfort, because he has spent more time trying to destroy Satan than he has worshipping God. The expanse of memories shared between them acts like a rosary to meditate upon, counting all the conflicts to keep track of the passing moments as the universe moves into a new age of darkness.
“I feel so happy,” Shadow scoffs. “It is utterly repulsive. Get it away.”