Chapter 2 The New Reality

The first thing Lucifer noticed was the pounding in his head. It wasn't the dull throb of a particularly wild night at Lux, nor the searing ache from one of his siblings' celestial smackdowns. No, this was something new. Something... mortal.

"Bloody hell," he groaned, the words scraping against his throat like sandpaper. His eyes fluttered open, then immediately shut again as sunlight stabbed through them. "Did someone replace my brain with a percussion section?"

Slowly, gingerly, he sat up. The room swam into focus, a nondescript apartment that looked like it had been furnished by someone whose idea of style was "marginally better than a prison cell." A sagging couch, a coffee table with water rings, and walls painted in what he could only describe as "landlord's special" beige.

"Right," Lucifer muttered, swinging his legs over the side of the equally uninspired bed. "Interdimensional kidnapping, cosmic manhandling, and now I wake up in..." He glanced around, his nose wrinkling in distaste. "...what appears to be the casting room for a low-budget soap opera. Marvelous."

He stood, swaying slightly as a wave of dizziness hit him. That's when he caught sight of himself in a small mirror mounted on the closet door. The face that stared back was his, but... not. The cheekbones were the same, the eyes still that piercing blue. But there was something off. A softness, a vulnerability that he wasn't used to seeing.

"No," Lucifer breathed, stepping closer to the mirror. He ran a hand through his hair, his movements jerky, uncoordinated. "No, no, no. This can't be..."

But it was. Gone was the immortal shell he'd inhabited since his fall from grace. The body that had strolled through Hell, that had taken bullets without flinching, that had exuded raw, celestial power. In its place was... this. A human form, fragile and weak.

"I'm going to eviscerate whatever cosmic joker is responsible for this," Lucifer growled. He attempted to summon his hellfire, to feel that rush of infernal power. Nothing. Not even a spark. "Oh, come on! I've been demoted from the Lord of Hell to... to a bloody human?"

As if on cue, his stomach rumbled. Lucifer looked down, momentarily baffled by the sensation. "And now it's making noises. Fantastic. Is this hunger? Is this what you mortals have to deal with every day?"

A quick search of the apartment revealed a small kitchenette. The refrigerator, humming softly in the corner, held a carton of eggs, some questionable milk, and what looked like leftovers from a meal he hoped wasn't as old as it looked.

"From single malt to single-serve," Lucifer grumbled, cracking an egg into a pan with more force than necessary. "If this keeps up, I'll be pining for the comforts of the Inferno. At least the screams of the damned didn't come with the threat of salmonella."

As the egg sizzled (and slightly burned, because apparently cooking was not among his retained skills), Lucifer took stock of his situation. He was mortal, or something close to it. His powers were gone, or at least severely diminished. And he was in an apartment that made his former throne room in Hell look like the Ritz.

But where exactly was he? A glance out the window provided a view of a bustling city street. Tall buildings, yellow taxis, and a general aura of barely contained chaos. "New York," Lucifer realized. "Well, at least it's not Cleveland."

He was about to turn away when something caught his eye. A flash of red and blue, swinging between the buildings with inhuman grace. Lucifer blinked, wondering if his new mortal eyes were playing tricks on him. But no, there it was again. A figure clad in a skin-tight costume, shooting what looked like webs from his wrists.

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me," Lucifer deadpanned. He knew that figure. Everyone did. It was plastered on t-shirts, lunch boxes, and enough merchandise to make even a fallen angel dizzy. "Spider-Man. I'm in the bloody Marvel Universe."

The realization hit him like a celestial sledgehammer. Not only had he been yanked from his own reality, stripped of his powers, and stuffed into a mortal coil, but he'd been dumped into a universe where super-powered individuals were a dime a dozen. A universe of gods, monsters, and heroes.

"Right," Lucifer said, turning back to his now thoroughly cremated egg. "Let's review, shall we? I'm mortal, powerless, in a city that's lousy with superheroes, and..." He sniffed the air. "And I've just ruined what might be my only sustenance. Perfect. Absolutely perfect."

He scraped the charred remains into the trash, his movements clumsy with unfamiliarity and a growing sense of frustration. This was so far beyond his usual problems. Rebellious demons, he could handle. Meddling angels, no problem. But this? This was uncharted territory, even for the Devil.

A knock at the door startled him out of his misery. For a moment, Lucifer's heart leapt. Could it be Maze? Had she somehow tracked him down already? But no, that was foolish hope. Maze was formidable, but even she couldn't cross universes on sheer demonic willpower.

Cautiously, Lucifer approached the door. He looked for a weapon, cursing under his breath when all he found was a spatula. "Yes, because nothing says 'formidable' like a kitchen utensil," he muttered, gripping it nonetheless.

He opened the door, spatula raised, ready to face whatever this new universe had to throw at him. What he found was a kindly-looking elderly woman with silver hair and a plate of what smelled like homemade cookies.

"Oh! Good morning, dear," she said, taken aback by his aggressive stance. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. I'm May Parker, your neighbor from 4B. I heard someone moving around and thought I'd welcome you to the building."

Lucifer lowered the spatula, feeling supremely foolish. "Apologies, Mrs... Parker, was it? I'm a bit out of sorts this morning. New place, new... everything, really."

May's expression softened. "I understand, dear. Moving can be such a upheaval. That's why I baked these." She offered the plate. "Nothing settles the nerves like a bit of home cooking, I always say."

Lucifer took the plate, momentarily stunned by this simple act of kindness. In his long existence, kindness without an agenda was a rare thing. It made him feel... odd. Warm, but also slightly uncomfortable, like a cat being petted against the grain.

"Thank you," he managed, his usual silver tongue failing him. "I'm Lucifer Morningstar."

"Lucifer," May repeated with a warm smile. "Well, it's lovely to meet you. Now, you just get settled in. And if you need anything - a cup of sugar, a friendly ear, or just someone to show you where the good takeout places are - you just knock on my door, alright?"

Lucifer nodded, still a bit dazed. As May turned to leave, a thought struck him. "Mrs. Parker? You wouldn't happen to know a good place to find work around here, would you? Preferably something... nocturnal?"

May paused, thinking. "Well, my nephew Peter sometimes picks up shifts at this little club downtown. The Blind Spot, I think it's called. They're always looking for help. Oh, but you be careful down there, dear. New York can be a bit rough, especially at night."

With a final wave, she left, leaving Lucifer with a plate of cookies and a lot to process. He closed the door, leaning against it. "The Devil, asking for job advice from a little old lady," he chuckled mirthlessly. "I don't know whether Dad would be laughing or writing this down for a new chapter in his celestial comedy routine."

He bit into a cookie and was surprised to find it was actually quite good. As he chewed, Lucifer's mind raced. He needed information, resources, and a way to regain his powers. But first, he needed the basics. Food, clothing (because he'd be damned - again - if he was going to face this new world in the faded t-shirt and jeans he'd woken up in), and money.

"The Blind Spot," he mused. "Well, it's not Lux, but I suppose even the Devil has to start somewhere in this universe. Besides," he added with a smirk, "who better to work in a place called 'The Blind Spot' than someone who's been everyone's moral blind spot for millennia?"

With a plan, however modest, in place, Lucifer felt a bit more like himself. He was the Devil, after all. Mortal body or not, he'd faced worse odds. He'd rebelled against God, ruled Hell, and dealt with Maze's attempts at karaoke night. This was just another challenge.

"Right then," he said, straightening up. "First order of business: find something to wear that doesn't scream 'lost tourist.' Then, it's off to charm my way into gainful employment. After that..." His eyes gleamed with determination. "After that, I'm going to find out who or what brought me here, and I'm going to make them wish they'd never meddled with Lucifer Morningstar."

As he rummaged through the closet, finding a passable dark shirt and slacks, Lucifer felt a faint stirring within him. It wasn't his old power, not exactly. But it was something. A whisper of his former self, a hint that not all was lost. He grinned, a flash of his old devilish charm.

"Watch out, Marvel Universe," he said to the empty apartment. "The Devil's in town, and he's ready to raise a little hell."