Lucifer, But I'm Not The Devil

The crime scene was cordoned off, the flashing red and blue lights of the police vehicles painting the dim alleyway in chaotic streaks of color. Forensic techs moved methodically, gathering evidence, while Chloe stood near Ella Lopez, who was crouched over the corpse, her gloved hands delicately examining the victim. Chloe's expression was a mix of determination and faint unease as she studied the scene.

Lopez, ever focused, worked with quick precision, her voice light despite the grim task. "Victim appears to be mid-thirties, blunt force trauma to the head, possibly a fall—or something bigger did the damage," she muttered, half to herself, half to Chloe.

Chloe nodded, her arms crossed as her sharp gaze swept over the alley. "Anything to suggest motive? Robbery gone wrong, maybe?"

Lopez was about to respond when a shadow moved at the edge of the crime scene. A man strolled in, his stride unhurried, his presence commanding yet oddly disarming. For a moment, Chloe's breath caught—he looked exactly like Lucifer, from the immaculate white suit to the devil-may-care confidence in his bearing.

The man approached the corpse with a slow, deliberate grace, his polished shoes clicking softly against the pavement. He lowered himself to Lopez's level with the fluidity of someone who moved like water but wielded steel beneath the surface. His piercing gaze swept over the body, eyes sharp as shards of ice. His lips curled into a faint, almost imperceptible smirk as if he were solving a puzzle only he could see.

"Hmm," he murmured, tilting his head slightly, his voice deep and smooth but lacking the playful lilt of Lucifer's tone. "Not Mother's handiwork."

Lopez froze mid-examination, her dark eyes snapping up to meet his. She blinked, her gloved hand hovering awkwardly over the corpse. "Uh, excuse me? Who the hell are you?"

Chloe, still recovering from the shock of seeing what she assumed was Lucifer, stepped forward, her brow furrowing in confusion and irritation. "Lucifer, what the hell are you doing here? And what do you mean, 'Mother's handiwork'? You're not even supposed to be near the crime scene!"

The man's eyes flicked to Chloe, his brow arching with mild curiosity. There was no recognition in his gaze, only a cold, analytical assessment. His expression was unreadable, though his lips twitched into a small, sardonic smile, as if amused by the situation.

"Ah," he said, his voice soft but edged with sharp amusement, "so you're one of my brother's… associates?" He straightened, brushing invisible dust off his pristine suit, his movements precise and elegant, almost feline. "I assure you, Detective, I'm not here to interfere with your… mortal investigation. Simply passing through."

Chloe's eyes narrowed, her confusion deepening. She studied him closely—the uncanny resemblance, the suit, the voice—yet something was off. Lucifer's usual flamboyance, his teasing charm, was absent. This man's demeanor was colder, sharper, like a finely honed blade compared to Lucifer's devil-may-care swagger.

"You're not Lucifer," she said slowly, her voice steady but cautious.

Sariel's smirk widened slightly, his eyes glinting with a mixture of amusement and faint disdain. "Indeed, I am not," he replied, his tone clipped and precise. "Though I can see why you'd make the mistake." He gave her a shallow bow, more mocking than polite. "Sariel, at your service. And, no, I don't make a habit of introducing myself to humans, but for you, I'll make an exception."

Lopez stood, brushing her gloves against her coat, her eyes darting between Chloe and Sariel. "Okay, what's going on here? Who's this guy? And why does he look like Lucifer's long-lost twin?"

Chloe crossed her arms, her jaw tightening as she faced Sariel. "Sariel, is it? Care to explain why you're at my crime scene, throwing around comments about someone's 'handiwork'? Who's 'Mother,' and why are you even here?"

Sariel sighed, as if the entire interaction were an inconvenience. His gaze flicked back to the corpse, his sharp features briefly softening with a hint of sadness, though it was gone in an instant. "I'm here," he said, his voice quiet, "because I thought this might be… related to my family. But it seems I was mistaken."

He straightened, his posture rigid but his eyes scanning the alley with a predatory focus. "As for 'Mother,' let's just say she's… complicated. And dangerous." He turned back to Chloe, his gaze piercing but devoid of hostility. "If she's truly loose in this world, you'd best pray this is the last time we cross paths."

Chloe felt a chill run down her spine, though she refused to show it. Her detective instincts were screaming at her—this man wasn't just anyone. His presence carried an unnatural weight, a gravity she couldn't explain.

Before she could respond, Sariel turned to Lopez, offering a faint nod of acknowledgment. "Good work, by the way. You're quite meticulous for a human." His tone was clinical, not unkind, but distant.

Lopez blinked, unsure whether to be flattered or insulted. "Uh… thanks, I guess?"

Without another word, Sariel adjusted his cufflinks and began walking away, his posture regal, his footsteps measured. Chloe called after him, her voice firm. "This isn't over, Sariel. If you know something about this case—or your 'Mother'—you'd better start talking."

Sariel paused, glancing back over his shoulder. His lips curved into a faint smile, one that didn't reach his eyes. "Detective, some truths are best left buried. But if you insist on digging… be careful. You might not like what you find."

And with that, he walk away leaving Chloe and Lopez staring after him, the air heavy with unanswered questions.