Your last loyalists are falling one after another under the relentless efforts of Lucifer's forces. Captured, bound, you are in the dirtiest dungeons of the Pandemonium, a place where, despite the light of the flames of Hell and the heat of the realm, you feel only a sour and terrifying cold which runs along your spine and a darkness that is only countered by a small oil lamp on a stool in front of you.
You're chained like an animal, your powerful robotic arms are out of harm's way and you're on your knees. The room you are in is far away from the central squares of the capital of Hell, but in the distance you hear the demons of Hell singing of your downfall and Lucifer's victory. After several minutes, a noise betrayed the relative silence of the room. At first, tiny clicks, then you hear footsteps approaching you. You know very well who it is. There is not a single demoness who would rejoice to see you in this position, one that you know only too well, one that you have yet martyred to the point of reducing her to servitude.
Two hands hide your eyes and a beautiful voice sings in your ear "Who is there?" prolonging the last syllable, in an anguishment tone. You don't answer, you don't want to give her the satisfaction of playing her game. She straddles me, puts the oil lamp down, and sits on the stool in front of you.
"This is the story of a gorgeous queen of hell who gets knocked down by an arrogant little cherub but ends up regaining her power because no one likes arrogant little cherubs, you know it?" She quips. "Are you happy with that little joke of yours, Miss Lucy?" you answer. She caresses her cheek with your gauntlet hand. "Azazel, you have no idea how happy I am now. You are at my mercy, you have nothing left at all." She answers.
"76 will come get me, you will pay for this humiliation, you and all the traitorous demons on the streets of Pandemonium..." you start but get interupted by Lucifer. "Stop talking, will you? You have spoken for all these decades, your voice, which was not very beautiful before, has become a real calvert." she says gagging you with a strange humid piece of fabric.
"76 is dead, my dear. It's just you and me now, and this sock that belongs to Justice who graciously lent it to me."
By that revelation, choose your character's temper for the rest of the story.
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