Chapter 3 Devil in new town

The streets of New York were a far cry from the sun-drenched avenues of Los Angeles. Where L.A. sprawled lazily under a perpetual summer haze, New York bustled with a frenetic energy that seemed to seep up from the very pavement. Lucifer, now dressed in his best approximation of his usual style (minus the Prada price tag), found himself swept along in the human current.

"It's like being back in the Pandemonium," he muttered, deftly sidestepping a harried businessman yelling into his phone. "Only with more pigeons and fewer tortured souls. Although..." He glanced at a group of tourists arguing over a map, "...the jury's still out on that one."

Finding The Blind Spot was easier than he'd anticipated. It was nestled in a side street off the main drag, a neon sign flickering above a nondescript door. The bouncer, a mountain of a man with arms like tree trunks, eyed Lucifer as he approached.

"Club's closed," the bouncer grunted. "Come back tonight."

Lucifer raised an eyebrow. Even without his celestial aura, he knew how to command attention. "My good man," he purred, his accent curling around the words, "I'm not here for the ambiance. Though I must say, this alleyway has a certain... charm. No, I'm here about employment. A little birdie told me you might be in need of staff."

The bouncer's expression didn't change, but there was a flicker of interest in his eyes. "Staff, huh? And what makes you think you'd fit in here?"

"Oh, darling," Lucifer chuckled, stepping closer. His voice dropped, becoming a conspiratorial whisper that nonetheless carried a hint of his old power. "I've run the most exclusive club in all of Los Angeles. And before that, well, let's just say I was in charge of an establishment that catered to a very... select clientele. Trust me, whatever your patrons desire, I can provide."

There was a pause, a moment where the bouncer seemed to weigh not just Lucifer's words, but the man himself. Then, with a grunt that might have been approval, he stepped aside. "Boss is inside. Don't make me regret this."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Lucifer said with a wink. As he passed, he added, "You know, you remind me of an old friend. He was a demon, of course, but the resemblance is uncanny. I don't suppose you have any experience with eternal damnation, do you?"

The bouncer stared at him, clearly unsure whether to take the comment as a joke or a threat. Lucifer just grinned and entered the club.

Inside, The Blind Spot was a study in organized chaos. Even empty, it hummed with potential energy. Lucifer's trained eye picked out the best spots for viewing the room, the hidden nooks perfect for illicit deals or trysts. It wasn't Lux, but it had potential.

"You the new guy?"

Lucifer turned to see a man in his fifties, with salt-and-pepper hair and the look of someone who'd seen every trick in the book. The club's owner, no doubt.

"Lucifer Morningstar," Lucifer introduced himself, extending a hand. "And you must be the man who keeps this little corner of New York's underbelly running smoothly."

The owner grunted, shaking his hand. "Frank. And 'underbelly' is a bit dramatic. We're just a club, not some den of iniquity."

"Oh, Frank," Lucifer chuckled, "every gathering of humans is a den of iniquity. It's just a matter of how well you cater to their desires. And I, my friend, am an expert in desires."

Over the next hour, Lucifer charmed his way into a job. He'd start as a bartender - a step down from club owner, but everyone had to start somewhere in this universe. By the end of their chat, Frank was looking at him with a mix of intrigue and wariness, as if he'd just hired a panther to tend bar.

"Just remember," Frank said as Lucifer was leaving, "this is a respectable place. No funny business."

"My dear Frank," Lucifer replied, a mischievous glint in his eye, "I assure you, everything I do is funny business. But it's also profitable business, and isn't that what truly matters?"

Frank shook his head, but there was the faintest hint of a smile on his weathered face. Lucifer took that as a win. He'd get this place running like a well-oiled machine in no time. And who knows? Maybe he'd even have some fun doing it.

As he stepped back onto the street, the sun was dipping below the skyscrapers, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple. It was almost beautiful, in a gritty, urban way. But Lucifer's appreciation was cut short by a commotion down the block.

A man was running full-tilt, a purse clutched under one arm. Behind him, a woman was shouting, her voice raw with anger and fear. "Stop him! He's got my purse!"

"Oh, for the love of..." Lucifer sighed. He stepped into the thief's path, hands in his pockets, looking for all the world like he was just out for an evening stroll. "You know," he said conversationally as the thief barreled towards him, "there are far more interesting things to steal than a lady's handbag. Diamonds, for instance. Or souls. Much more rewarding in the long run."

The thief, more focused on his escape than the strange man in his path, tried to shove past Lucifer. But even in his mortal form, Lucifer was no pushover. He sidestepped, sticking out a foot in a move that would have made Maze proud. The thief went sprawling, the purse skidding across the pavement.

"Now, let's have a chat about your life choices, shall we?" Lucifer said, crouching down beside the groaning thief. He gripped the man's shoulder, and for a moment, something sparked in his eyes. A flicker of his old power, a whisper of the fear he used to command. "Tell me, what do you desire, truly?"

The thief's eyes went wide, his mouth working soundlessly for a moment. Then, as if the words were being pulled from him: "I... I just want to make my old man proud. He's in the hospital, and the bills..."

Lucifer's expression softened, just a fraction. "Ah, the things we do for family. Trust me, mate, I've been there. But this?" He gestured at the purse. "This isn't the way. You'll end up in a cell, and dear old dad will be no better off."

Just then, a familiar figure swung down from the rooftops, landing with a graceful flip. Spider-Man, in his full red and blue regalia, took in the scene. "Whoa, looks like you've got this handled, civilian! Nice takedown!"