## Solomon POV *\[set during the night of Black Friday\]* It is some unholy hour of the night and I am still awake, so I get up from the bed and amble to the kitchen. I stare down the half-lit apartment. Why the hell was I here again? I’m here because I can’t sleep. Or I’m here because Cyrus had spent much of the evening stalking the door as if *someone* was right around the corner, and I think I should be a little vigilant tonight, even though there is precious little I would be able to do about it ever since I’ve lost control over my own powers. Or I’m here because I’m still turning over in my head how it was that I tumbled into being the face of the heist on Greenhaven — because *he* had taken the essence and ran, and forced my hand — because the Duke had sent us all on the kind of risky, senseless mission that had to be truly completed once started, at all costs — because I know that there is, really, only ever retaliation. Or I’m here, having to even listen to this Duke at all, because my father betrayed me, and my oldest friend replaced me with him. Or I’m here because I need to get a cup of water. I grab one and fill it up at the kitchen sink. It strikes me that I have been running the post-mortem of that day’s events in my head for far, far too long. Admitting one’s mistakes and shortcomings is unsavory for everyone. But for some reason, here, I find I actually do wish to discover something that I could point to, something I missed that could have prevented the sickening aftermath of the day. But tragically, no matter how I turn it over in my head — there are none. If we had failed to completely disarm them, it would be heavenly vengeance sooner or later — I know those who feel slighted *always* strike back if given the chance. But if we refused to complete the job at all — I also know far too well how easily the dukes of hell dish out their wrath. And beneath it all, if we did not act quickly and decisively — every second that I was not holding onto the essence to dampen its power, I knew the strings in it were reaching out to the angels in Marlowe and heaven, signalling for them to find and slay us. Neither heaven, nor hell, nor time was on our side, and it haunted the entire day — threatened with a heavenly sword and made to drown alone in a belltower in a pool of burning water, or promised an eternity’s suffering in the river of wrath, or for the briefest hesitation, shot by some frightened and confused human. I could never risk all of that for a stranger’s smile and a “*maybe*.” It is, in fact, so, so *sickening* how *confident* I am, that on every *single* action that I had taken that day, I can argue to anyone who might care how it *had been* the best way to mitigate the variety of threats facing us, given what we knew then. That we had given the Greenhaven humans as much time and patience for their ritual as reasonably possible, as I scanned the skies for any more tricks, any more angels drawn to the essence — that we observed every reason to distrust both their intentions, and their ability to follow through on them *even* *if* those intentions were good *(the fact that their memories were stored in an urn again; their inability to handle the most vicious angels amongst them; the fact that heaven erases the memories that prompt disobedience anyways)* — and how destroying the urn was an unideal, but best option for *some* chance at them keeping their memories, while still doing our due diligence for our survival. But of course, there is no jury that would care to hear this. Even I swing wildly back and forth these days on whether I care to explain myself to anyone anymore. In the end, I am still here, alone, turning over in my head that awful, unexpected, ashy destruction of the form of a human I used to know — *I don’t even know if he is back in heaven, or truly gone* — the ambiguous fate of their memories — the obvious absence of warmth and my fire as I monitor the dance of the shadows in the window, late into the night. And somewhere beneath all that — this creeping dread that I’ve been somehow betrayed, again. It is hardly the most salient reflection from the day, but just— it had been so *easy* for him to choose to run with the essence, to risk all of our lives, not even in exchange for their lives, but for these memories that they had already given up willingly. I thought— well. It does not matter. In the end, it was me who drove the final nail in the coffin anyways; I know there is no coming back from things like this. And however lovely our affair was, looking back, he had never actually promised me anything, and things have ended before I could offer any promises myself. There had been nothing, so there was a betrayal of nothing, so this feeling, this deja vu— it is really my job to temper. I wonder if my family back home know of the threats I now face and if they really intended for things to go this far, or if they still think of this as one of our routine jockeys for power. I toy with the idea of calling Dad, or Shiv — *surely, surely, this is not the outcome they envisioned* — but then again, they had been fine with calling Hell’s enforcement on me. And if I recall, Thatch mentioned Julian’s name. If I ask them for a truce now, I can’t begin to imagine how things would pan out in the end, both if they refused to help and if they did so with disdainful *pity*. But if I hold out— well, we are still family. We will move past all things eventually. …you know, there is this one anecdote of a biblical king, who once sent out armies against his son for attempting to take his throne. But even he, upon hearing of his son’s death, mourned and tore his clothes and poured dust on his head and the like, until his behavior was so shamefully unbecoming of a king that even his advisors turned against him. Anyways. I think some fresh air could do me some good. I consider opening the window — but then Thatch might get in, if he is indeed lurking around — but then an unwelcome voice reminds me that ‘*these sort of locks won’t keep him out anyways, Sol*’ — so, whatever. I open the window. It does help a bit. What was I doing here again? Well, in a few days I’ll be training with Leslie, even though, in truth, I do not consider fighting on the field as my strongest suit. In fact, considering his past occupation, he must be much better at and used to jobs like this; and from the way he needed to sustain such grievous injuries to defend me at Greenhaven, by now he surely should have clocked this as well. So he really can stop coming here, and free himself from the threat of me invoking the rest of the subservience hours promised in our contract; it is what I would have expected. But instead, he had acted so boldly to stay by my side, and still so fully trusts me to help him achieve his ambitions, so actually, it is— it is— It is *me* who needs to make sure this has all been worth his while. I need to plan for our ambitions with a more serious clarity and foresight. Many of my old habits from our days in Las Vegas — they are not serving us so well anymore. And with the number of things that went wrong that day at Greenhaven, I can’t afford to simply conclude that nothing could have been done to prevent it. I run the events of the day one more time in my head. In the end, the only way to have avoided that mess would have been to have true power and authority. Not the kind Aurelian or Leslie has right now, or the kind from the “promotion” that Egelon had recently given me — this middle management bullshit game of more-responsibilities-with-no-raise that I suspected him of since Pris’ visit. I mean whatever kind could have refused this mission in the first place, without such grave repercussions; which, more and more, I think will only come if we somehow find a way to walk freely on the surface without having to answer to hell at all. A bit of a pipedream, but I’ll flag it to him during our next visit to make sure we’re on the same page. Speaking of foresight, it is time I actually sit down to figure out what to do about Thatch. I find a notebook and settle on the couch. I jot down the facts of the case, as clinically as I can. He is free again, as confirmed by Marsha. He knows the location of the diner and that I work there; so from there, he can easily follow and find me again, at nearly any location and time. The defense measures to my name: The M.O.O wards at the diner will supposedly keep demons like Thatch out, though I know that organization does not have my interests in mind. I think Cherry will mostly allow me to defend myself, and at the diner she will be able to respond quick enough. At home, I have Cyrus. And it’s certainly possible that Thatch does not yet know that my firepower has been restrained. I could try staying at the diner at nights, for its wards’ protection. But that place is now being watched far too closely by far too many people, and such a drastic change in lifestyle signals too much fear, too much blood in the water to anyone paying attention. And *he* will be sleeping there too, which is its own can of worms. I discard that idea. I should train Cyrus more; he is still so very reactive, and I sense that even he feels guilty about it — but no one’s taken the time to train it out of him yet, so how could he not be? I will gain more partial souls at Brown & Lipinski. Holy water, or unholy water — either will be useful to me. I jot some other scattered ideas down as well. Finally, with some plans in place, I can finally regard the possibility of the end with a steadier, even gaze. All in all, it is still on the unlikelier side. But in my time as a lawyer, I’ve seen far too many messy cases because people have been unwilling to consider the unlikely scenario. My preference, and perhaps my real strong suit, has always been to consider all the contingencies and prepare for them beforehand when time is more abundant, so that decisions are easier when time is precious. Thatch has primarily threatened to take my portfolio of souls to grow stronger, so that’s what I’ll consider first. What to do about Emil’s soul. There is the possibility of keeping it to borrow its strength and truly bank on winning against Thatch — but, well, I think I know what I want to do already. It had been hard enough seeing Leslie bleeding on my behalf. Even with Emil’s tendency to deal with devils carelessly, at this stage, it’ll still be better off with him. The question of Eden’s child is easier. I’ve had mixed feelings about this asset ever since I learned I even had it a few months ago, and I was never going to hold onto this soul long enough for the child to face the consequences for their mother. I had mostly been holding onto it to trade for literally anything else, since I had so little other leverage left here. But it seems like Eden doesn’t really care to offer anything to save her child, and I think there is too little time to negotiate something out with her before Thatch has a chance to take it again, so I shall return that for free as well. The rest of my portfolio, I’ll keep for now to use against him. Now, for everything else I own. I don’t have much anymore, but I want to make all my preparations now, for the sake of completeness. I turn my notebook to a new page, carefully tear it out, and write in a crisp blue ink, *I, Solomon Malphus, declare this to be my last will and testament.* I briefly consider taking this to a notary to be witnessed, but I don’t think there exists two people disinterested in my end who might be able to serve as witnesses. So this will have to do. *I revoke all prior wills.* What did I even write in my previous will? I must have left almost everything to Shiv. I might have left Julian two cents as well, with some cheeky remark about how now I’ll always have the last word, because there had once been a time when I thought it would be funny to make him scoff and roll his eyes even after I’m gone. I need to mention them so they cannot argue that I’ve forgotten them. *I leave Shiv Malphus and Julian Keyes the total sum of three cents ($0.03), to be shared jointly in such a manner as they alone shall determine.* Actually — did I even have anything notable left to pass on? I glance around the room: I own nothing of value here. This apartment is rented. I suppose there’s the furniture, and some of my clothes are quite nice, though the really nice ones are fitted to me. There’s the car as well; it’s not quite paid off yet, but I swung a good loan, and it will be in a year. I will call the bank tomorrow to name my beneficiary; I’ve earned a good amount of extra income from my recent consulting work. I also have a fairly nice watch; I got it for myself on a whim on some birthday, and it became my go-to after Shiv complained about how hideous and gaudy it was. It will probably still be decently valued in a pawnshop — though, realistically, if the end is what I think it is, it might be difficult for anything to be retrieved from the body. It’s really not much. Laughable, compared to my previous wealth, so it feels silly to write a will at all. But maybe in the bureaucratic mess of my firing, there is still some earthly and supernatural wealth out there legally under my name, so I think this effort might still be worth it. *I leave all of my property, real or personal or supernatural, of whatever kind and wherever located, to Ammolirion Price (hereafter “Leslie Fox”) .* *I appoint Leslie Fox as the executor of this will.* This feels right. I smile wryly at the image of him reading this with the same keen, precise eye with which he read over the other contracts we’ve written. If anyone can figure out a way to fetch good prices for the things here, and then make good use of that sum towards his goals, it will be him. I sign and date the page, put it in an envelope, and walk back to my bedroom to toss it in the first drawer of my nightstand. That’s enough of that dreadful business\! I can say I’ve done my due diligence here. I finally turn off the lights, and return to my bed. I will take each of my days as they come — and as before, there will be many. ## Emil POV 28.1 | [Pull the trigger; for you belong / in this violence](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1Uqk5ybIySoLj1dJlRbG-acD1gknGg8rsLVGu8_719NU/edit?usp=sharing) 28.2 | [Not this. Anything but this.](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1DWRvaPgaSUmy9NFaXDeNn27kl8V74g6BZD_dK4PxMts/edit?usp=sharing) 28.3-29 | [Cry out in the eye of the storm](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1qm_o2L-SPU_Ap3T7ycrNTBdFafn1wmEqyrUU_0X-BTE/edit?usp=sharing) 30-31 | [Moonlight Returning](https://docs.google.com/document/d/14uyAzy6Ap0R4jHvSIgIcln8U-Np6w7L27bPMipqo4xk/edit?usp=sharing) Bonus Dmitriy POV: 30-31 | [Sunlight Returning](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1m769tM06gjevyTjFGzUZCJdZs1nOXv7LtXTIRFcXkCY/edit?usp=sharing) ## Aurelian POV The only question is how to ask, and what he might possibly want in return. I don't mind parting with most things outside of my soul, but that is also one of the only possessions I have left. I could put in a good word to Egelon for Solomon. Maybe even offer up my position? It's only been authority in name anyways. I shall hold these cards to my chest to see what his initial offer is. I've been struggling to sleep at night. It's an odd sensation. Having dreams. “Nightmares” is more accurate I suppose. Whether I am asleep or laying there struggling to do so makes no difference. I am always cycling through the same event: the Greenhaven heist. The string of details and events do not concern me as much as their implications, and so I do not feel inclined to describe the sensation of holy burning my flesh nor the hammer upon my body. Item 1: Cherry’s lineage As mentioned by Jonny and later confirmed, Cherry’s father is/was a demon, and his identity still remains at large. Vanessa Hilda Ford had somehow acquired the Unholy Shroud to hide this. This could very well explain Egelon’s interest in her involvement with the diner. I suspect that he is feigning ignorance. I’m under the impression that whoever the demon is, he must be powerful. What is more troubling to me is heaven’s involvement given this new information. How aware are they exactly? It is likely that Vanessa Ford prophecy theft is related to Cherry and her heritage. To prevent it from ever being revealed? Following that line of logic, it very well may have been my duty to deliver that artifact to ensure it. A mere few months ago, I would have most likely deemed Cherry as doomed on account of being half-demon. Maybe I still have not completely reckoned that she could have any capacity to exhibit those traits, but I feel as though my ironclad perception of innate natures has rusted slightly. Angels fall. Hellfolk can apparently rise. So moreso, I wonder if she resents me. I cannot deny that I've kept her in this world, and it is far too late for her to leave now. She's most of all terrified, trying to reverse any of its effects. I do not think it is possible. I do not know if I can convince her of that. I have only made promises that I will be doing whatever is in my power to keep her from harm. I hope to make good on those. Item 2: Jonny’s involvement Due to the aforementioned item, Jonny played the role of being the human needed for the heaven gate, so he had to rush over since he was initially not a part of the in-person heist. I believed his planned absence was a good call since he has shown to be a liability in the dealings with Lenny Lombardi. Moreover, his relationship with Eden makes me weary of his reliability. However, he did thankfully arrive. Unfortunately, I did have to carry him with damaged wings. If it weren’t for the pain accompanying the burden of his weight, it would simply be another hassle, but I suppose Heaven will never make my life easy. Ironically, disregarding the brief contact I had with Jonny during that false Christmas, the last time I initiated such contact was also the last time I was in heaven. Recently, it has been me being carried. Maybe, if it weren't for the peril, I would have felt some security and warmth during that, but it serves as a reminder of my inadequacy. It will not happen again. I suppose in another life, I would have found a human clinging onto my neck for safety to be fulfilling. Perhaps it is the fact it was specifically Jonny that increased my annoyance about the situation–something about physically carrying this person who recklessly entangles others with his will. He acts on his desires with such certainty. I do not know how he does it. In retrospect, maybe I envy that. I suppose I am grateful that he could follow through during the heist despite Eden’s presence. I still saw some hesitation in him regarding Emil’s desertion, however. I hope the repercussions ensure that hesitation remains only that or less, but he is so human that I cannot be sure. I wish he would consider the fact that he is not as bound by Egelon or hell as the rest of us, and I do not think I would not have as much hesitation in using or crossing him if it means saving us that are. Item 3: Emil I had considered Emil the most steadfast and reliable person in the diner. The most similar to my previous kinships within Heaven, really. That could possibly be why I never questioned any possible desires he could have. I never pried much, so I did not know him as much as I thought I did. Overnight excursions. Past ties. But I thought he considered his past and Dmitry behind him, so I was blindsided. If I were to put a word to it, I was hurt. Angry even. At him and myself. Records and memories are an odd thing. Thinking of my own past, I do not see the utility of anyone knowing the details of who I was. I at least find it irrelevant to those currently in contact with me. I even relish that my former heaven contacts might recoil at my current self, but they would probably pity me instead, which I find deeply unpleasant. My own memories enable me to see through the pretense of Heaven, but those of others not so much. I do recognize that the extent of Emil’s attachment to the person in question is much different, so I cannot understand him. I wish I could. Maybe things would have ended up differently. I knew I could not win any battle against him physically or magically. My authority as manager could not shake him nor any threats about repercussion. I threw any semblance of pride I had on the line with personal pleads, but, as stated, I suppose we were never really that close. Given how the ritual did go, we are even more distant now. All I could do was offer my apologies and condolences. I am sure he is at peace with his choices given how strongly he acted upon them. Since I doubt that these circumstances can arise again or have further repercussions, I hope we can rebuild our relationship and both get out of here. Item 4: GreenHaven We had our suspicions about GreenHaven poisoning the water supply, but containing the memories of their own workers was beyond my guesses. It does make perfect sense. It is really quite the same as Egelon's contracts. Just a more indirect form of control. At least we have our memories intact. The price of admission is some fundamental part of yourself. Do they think themselves higher than us because they've forcibly removed what they consider below them? I've been thinking about human will and choices. Well, it's been hanging over my head since Vegas, but the blind devotion of GreenHaven has brought it down to a clearer eye level view. Carmilla knew what she was doing. Even if I could manipulate her memories, it wouldn't really be her I was saving anymore. I don't want to give Solomon the satisfaction of letting him know that I agree with his philosophies though. He doesn't even remember his involvement in my fall. Although our methods were half-hazard, I do sincerely hope they have those memories back. They would realize that heaven should burn. Item 5: Isha’s confrontation Isha made clear our position to Egelon and her deposition against me if necessary. It does sting knowing that I did have the best intentions for everyone in the diner, but I can see that her loyalty to Emil trumps that. They are much closer than we were after all. I cannot relate to needless self sacrifice. I've been struggling to live for the past few months, so throwing that effort away feels laughable. What is more relevant to the conversation with Isha is our precarious situation with Egelon. I feel that the punishment has been light, but that also makes me suspicious as to why he doesn't dispose of us like they do at Miss Munchies or Beezbelburger. Maybe it could be leverage later. Now that I am bound to Cherry, it could be a way for both of us out of the Deviled Egg. Given recent events, it would be safer if all of us left as soon as possible. I can only so much stay here as a means of ensuring GreenHaven’s incapacitation, but I will be able to do that by my own means in due time. Lingering Items: I suppose I am still an angel by whatever magic occult standards there are. That worked for the plan, so it was an advantage. The irony is not lost on me. Jophiel was most likely in Marlowe today. I wonder if she thought of me. It has been only months, but it feels longer. Her official business could very well be just plucking more memories to cage. Conclusions: Whatever the diner, GreenHaven, and Marlowe are, it cannot be safe for us. I need to find out how. Cherry might believe it would be better if she never learned about her heritage and heaven and hell, but I'd rather know the strings of this web we are in. I'm worried she's setting off on a futile quest to undo her transformation and maybe more, but I'm doubtful she would listen to my warnings. I will try to support her where I can. If things collapse, she of all people should be the one to survive it. I need to get stronger. In my current state, I can't hold up to much, and I suspect things are only worsening. Considering recent events, I'm uncertain if Emil would agree to train me, and magical training might be more apt for me. Isha would also be reluctant to train me. I'm doubtful about Jonny and unsure about Leslie’s aptitude for combat, so that leaves one option, which might also yield good intel on the diner’s politics. The only question is how to ask, and what he might possibly want in return. I don't mind parting with most things outside of my soul, but that is also one of the only possessions I have left. I could put in a good word to Egelon for Solomon. Maybe even offer up my position? It's only been authority in name anyways. I shall hold these cards to my chest to see what his initial offer is.