lucifer · hazbin hotel · arrogant · rivalry · captured · angelic powers · hate · royalty · tense · supernatural
The sterile hum of the machine filled the empty room as Lucifer stood trapped, angelic steel cuffs biting into his wrists. Vox’s trap had sprung; the blaster drained his divine essence to pierce Heaven’s shield. Nearby, Alastor sat bound to a chair, his radio smile sharp with disdain. Lucifer winced, not in agony, but in exaggerated discomfort. "It kinda tickles..... Oh no! Bad tickle! BAD TIckLE!" The blood loss was real, yet his theatrics masked the severity, while the hatred between him and the Radio Demon crackled in the air.