The motorcade wound its way through Gotham's streets, a sleek procession of black vehicles that drew curious glances from passersby.
Samael sat in the central car, watching the city's gothic spires pierce the overcast sky.
Even from within the armored vehicle, he could feel it - the city's cursed essence seeping everywhere. Where Metropolis gleamed with Superman's light, Gotham writhed with ancient darkness.
Probably Barbatos's influence, he thought to himself unimpressed.
"Quite the difference from home," he commented, glancing at Cassandra who sat beside him, her posture alert despite the heavy security.
'Different. Dangerous,' she signed, her movements sharp.
"That's rather the point," Samael replied, a slight smirk playing on his lips. Through the tinted windows, he watched a group of spirits drift across a decrepit building. They were drawn to the city's pain, feeding off its misery. Perfect.
The convoy turned onto a private road, climbing toward Bristol's exclusive heights. The Luthor mansion emerged from behind wrought-iron gates, its Gothic architecture a stark departure from their Metropolis residence.
Security Chief Wilson, a former military man with more metal than flesh in his left leg, met them at the entrance. "Mr. Luthor, Ms. Vesper," he nodded, tablet in hand. "If you'll follow me, I'll brief you on the security measures."
The tour was thorough - motion sensors, thermal imaging, facial recognition, and more exotic systems that Samael suspected came from his father's less public research divisions.
The mansion itself had been modernized while maintaining its imposing exterior.
"The grounds are patrolled 24/7," Wilson explained, leading them through the main hall. "Three rotating shifts, overlapping coverage. Nothing gets in or out without us knowing."
Samael caught Cassandra's slight eye roll. They both knew better. The real security was her, these guys were more for the nobodies, and a show for the real ones.
"And the staff?" Samael inquired, watching a maid hurry past with fresh linens.
"Thoroughly vetted. Most transferred from your father's other properties. The new hires underwent extensive background checks."
They reached the master suite - Samael's new domain. The room was massive, dominated by a king-sized bed and furnished with elegant, dark wood pieces. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a commanding view of Gotham's skyline.
"Your belongings have been arranged according to the provided specifications," Wilson continued. "The security hub is-"
He paused as workers began bringing in a second bed. Cassandra directed them to place it on the opposite side of the room.
"Is there a problem?" Wilson asked, confusion evident.
"No," Cassandra spoke, her voice firm. "Protection protocol."
Wilson's eyebrows rose slightly, but he knew better than to question Cassandra Cain's security decisions. "Very well. I'll leave you to settle in. The evening shift change is in two hours."
After he left, Samael turned to Cassandra. "Interesting choice of furniture arrangement. Planning a sleepover?"
'Maximum protection requires proximity,' she signed. 'Separate rooms inefficient.'
"And my privacy?" he inquired, amusement dancing in his eyes.
'Irrelevant compared to security.'
"Even for changing? Showering? Other... nocturnal activities?" He let his tone suggest exactly what kind of activities he meant.
Cassandra's expression remained neutral. 'Bathroom has privacy. Everything else secondary to protection.'
"How wonderfully professional," Samael drawled, beginning to unbutton his shirt. "Well then, hope you don't mind, but I sleep naked."
He maintained eye contact as he stripped, each movement deliberate and challenging - wanting her to actually go away for just today at least, since otherwise, it will delay his plans.
When the last article dropped to the floor, he stood there, completely bare, waiting for her reaction.
Cassandra's expression didn't change, but her soul... oh, her soul betrayed her. Surprise, appreciation, desire - it all swirled beneath her carefully maintained exterior. Still, she didn't move, didn't look away.
"No comment?" he asked, walking to his bed with casual confidence.
'Sleep habits noted. Doesn't affect security protocols.'
Samael slid under the silk sheets, propping himself up on one elbow. "You're either incredibly professional or incredibly interested. Perhaps both?"
Her only response was to check the room's security systems. Again.
The hours crawled by. Outside, Gotham's darkness deepened, and Samael could feel the city's spiritual energy intensifying.
Wraiths and spectres drifted past the windows, drawn to the mansion's new occupant but unable to penetrate his father's security measures - both technological and mystical.
Cassandra maintained her vigil, checking and rechecking their defenses. Her dedication would have been admirable if it wasn't so inconvenient to his plans.
Finally, around 2 AM, she moved to her bed. Her positioning was perfect - ready to spring into action at the slightest disturbance.
Within minutes, her breathing evened out, trained to seize rest when possible.
Samael waited another hour, subtly extending his grace to deepen her sleep. Then he rose, movements fluid and silent.
He pulled on black pants and a dress shirt, leaving it partially unbuttoned.
He approached her bed, studying her sleeping form. In rest, her features softened, the constant alertness melting away to reveal something younger, more vulnerable.
His hand moved of its own accord, fingers ghosting through her dark hair.
The gesture surprised him - such tenderness wasn't typically in his nature. But there was something about her that called to him, something beyond her usefulness as an asset. Something he couldn't quite name.
He was attracted to her beauty perhaps? She was quite beautiful after all, but no... That didn't feel right. Though of course, calling it love was absurd as well. He knew love, and this certainly wasn't it.
Pushing away those thoughts and making a decision, he channeled his grace, weaving it around her in an invisible cocoon of protection.
The energy would ward off harm, chase away nightmares, ensure her rest was truly peaceful. It was more than he'd planned to give, but somehow, it felt... right.
His six massive wings materialized in the spiritual plane, unseen by mortal eyes but casting shadows across the room. They stretched wide, filling the space with their terrible beauty.
He cast one last look at Cassandra, sleeping peacefully under his protection. Then, with a thought and the softest rustle of feathers, he vanished.
The security cameras continued their sweep, showing nothing but two sleeping forms in the bedroom. The guards maintained their posts, unaware that their charge had slipped past every defense with ease.
Above the mansion, a cold wind blew, carrying the city's perpetual miasma of corruption and despair. But tonight, something else rode that wind - something ancient and terrible, something that hadn't walked these streets since Creation itself was young.
Gotham had no idea what had just taken up residence within its cursed bounds. But it would learn.
It would learn very soon indeed.
---------------------
Samael perched atop Gotham Cathedral, his senses filtering through the city's spiritual noise.
Through the Veil between realms, he could see the golden clouds of Heaven's light above - usually invisible to mortal eyes, but clear to spirits - while below, Hell's flames roared beneath the earth, their smoke mixing with Gotham's natural miasma.
Three blocks east, he sensed something different. Spirits tainted with dark magic, their essences carrying traces of ritual and purpose.
More importantly, they were coherent enough to be useful.
He materialized in an abandoned theater, staying hidden as he observed three spirits huddled around the remnants of what had once been an altar.
"I'm telling ya," one spirit, a burly man who looked like he'd died in the 90s, was saying, "somethin' ain't right tonight. You feel that weird shit in the air?"
"Always weird shit in Gotham," replied another, a scrawny guy in torn clothes. "But yeah, sky's actin' funny. All that gold up there..."
"Shut it, both of you," snapped the third, a heavyset woman in what looked like a waitress uniform. "We got bigger problems. That demon who's been sniffing around-"
"Evening," Samael interrupted pleasantly, stepping into view. "I'm looking for directions."
The spirits whirled around, their forms flickering with shock. The burly one drifted forward, trying to appear tough despite his obvious fear.
"The hell are you?" he demanded, then sniffed the air and recoiled. "What the fuck? You smell like... like up there," he gestured to the golden clouds, "but also like... down there?" He pointed at the ground.
"Observant," Samael smiled coldly. "Now, about those directions..."
The waitress tried to flee. Samael's will locked her in place effortlessly.
"Holy shit," the scrawny one yelped. "That ain't normal! Even for Gotham!"
"Look," the burly spirit said, backing away, "we don't want no trouble with... whatever you are. Just-"
"The dark magic," Samael cut him off. "I can sense it on you. Where?"
The spirits exchanged terrified glances. Finally, the waitress spoke up.
"Park Row tunnels," the waitress blurted. "Old chamber with weird marks. But you don't wanna-"
"Excellent," Samael interrupted. "You'll show me."
"What? No way, I ain't-" she began, but Samael's will pressed down on her spectral form.
"That wasn't a request," he said pleasantly. "Your friends can go. You and I are going to take a little walk."
The burly spirit looked between them. "Hey, maybe we should-"
"Leave," Samael commanded, not even looking at him. "Now."
They fled, their ethereal forms dissolving into Gotham's spiritual mist. The waitress - her nametag reading 'Betty' - trembled before him.
"Please," she whispered. "That place... it ain't right."
"Neither am I," Samael replied. "Now, shall we?"
They moved through Gotham's streets, Betty floating ahead while Samael walked casually behind. His physical form drew no attention from the few people still out - a simple perception filter ensuring they saw nothing worth remembering.
"How'd you end up involved with dark magic?" he asked conversationally as they walked.
"Wasn't exactly planned," Betty muttered. "Got desperate. Medical bills, y'know? Found this group... they promised quick money. Just had to help with some rituals."
"And then you died."
"Yeah. Turns out demon worship ain't great for longevity."
They reached Park Row - Crime Alley to locals. Betty led him to a seemingly ordinary maintenance entrance. "Down there," she said. "But the symbols... they mess with your head. Even as a spirit, I can't-"
"You've been very helpful," Samael cut her off. "One last thing - what exactly were you summoning down there?"
"Don't know exactly. Something old. Something angry. The demon who's been around lately, he's looking for it too."
"Interesting." Samael studied her for a moment. "For your assistance, I could send you upward," he gestured to the golden clouds, "but I should warn you - they might not keep you. Heaven isn't as... welcoming as humans like to believe.
Especially not to those formerly involved in magic. They might just kick you back down here. Or worse."
Betty's form flickered uncertainly. "But... but you smell like up there..."
"I smell like a lot of things," Samael replied dryly. "Your choice. Stay here in this cesspit, or take your chances with the pearly gates."
She looked up at the golden light, then back at the city that had killed her. "Up," she said firmly. "Even if they kick me out... can't be worse than here, right?"
"You'd be surprised," Samael murmured, but reached out anyway, touching her spectral form with a trace of his grace, making sure that though he breaks her bonds to this mortal coil, it can't be traced back to him.
Betty's spirit dissolved, rising toward the light with more hope than she'd probably felt in years.
"Now then," he said, turning toward the maintenance entrance. "Let's see what all the fuss is about."
As he then finally stepped through, the only sounds remaining after the spirits departure, the echoing of his boots.
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(Author note: Hello everyone! I hope you all liked this chapter.
Something I wish to tell you all is there are two sides to Samael, his more witty, human, and a bit dark humour side, that he has with normal people, or family, and his archangel/Lucifer side -
though not too much Lucifer since he doesn't have all his memories absorbed, and even then, he won't feel his emotions, more like a long VR movie, where he can feel moving and physical sensations, but no emotions.
Well, I hope that's clear,
I'll hopefully see you all later,
Bye!)