After Lucifer pressed the button to take us to the sub-basement and the elevator door closed, the elevator rapidly accelerated down. It accelerated so quickly that I flew up and slammed against the ceiling. At the same time, Lucifer did a half backflip and landed with his feet on the ceiling. He stood up on the ceiling and stayed like that comfortably.

"Ow," I said. "Why didn't you tell me that would happen?"

"It's funnier this way," he said, pointing and laughing at me.

"It's good to know you have the maturity of a twelve-year-old," I said, standing up.

We stayed that way for a few minutes before the elevator started to slow down and we gently drifted back to the floor. I awkwardly righted myself and stood back up as the elevator slowed to a stop and dinged. The door to the elevator opened and hot moist air wafted in. We stepped out onto a steel platform. I stared out into a vast darkness without a light in sight.

Lucifer put something in my hands and said, "Wear these. The mole people don't like bright lights, so I can't use my floaty light down here."

In the dim light from the open elevator door, I fumbled with what appeared to be night vision goggles. Once I had them securely fastened to my head, Lucifer flicked a switch on them and they turned on. I looked back out, away from the steel platform, and suddenly felt dizzy. We were hundreds of feet above the ground without a visible way down that I could see. Out in what was once just darkness, I could see massive generators running and producing steam. Mole people walked between the machines in semi-organized fashion.

I had an overwhelming urge to hug them. They were so cute and small. They were about half my height and covered in soft fur. I heard a noise to my left and saw a platform lift rise up, level with the platform we were on. There were several mole people on the platform in work uniforms.

They came up to us and the one in front said, "Hi. My name is Timothy, which I understand in your surface speak is pronounced 'Tim'. So you may call me Tim. To what do we owe the pleasure of the presence of surface dwellers in our humble work and living space?" He took his work hat off when he said this.

"We wish to retrieve something that may have accidentally found its way down here through pure coincidence and no fault of our own," Lucifer said. He leaned in toward me. "Follow my lead and say nothing unless directly spoken to. They do things a little different down here. Understand?"

"Understood," I said. He was acting very out of character for him. Like he was actually nervous of these people. It concerned me.

"Oh. We have happened upon a strange and dangerous artifact that fell down here not too long ago. It appears to be some sort of weapon. Is this the 'something' you to which you refer?" Tim said.

"I apologize for my frankness, but it severely injured and crippled Jonathan, who you may call Jon. He can no longer work, so he will soon be put out of commission, instead of leaving him to slowly rot away in solitude for being lame and unuseful."

"I'm sorry. Put out of commission? What do you mean?" I said.

"Speak only when spoken to, I said!" Lucifer said to me, then turned back to Tim. "I am deeply apologetic, but this one often speaks out of turn. He is not right in the head, you see."

"I am sorry to hear that. We can put him out of commission as well, if you so desire such a result? 'Two birds with one stone,' as you surface dwellers say?" Tim said.

"I am very grateful for your generous offer, but I am afraid I will have to decline. We like to clean up our own refuse, if you understand what I am referring to?" Lucifer said.

"Oh, yes. We too like to 'clean up our own messes,' as you say," Tim winked.

"Indubitably," Lucifer nodded his head and winked back.

"The time for the ceremony draws near, so I politely request that you accompany us to it. We will see to the matter of returning the artifact to your custody in due time," he said.

"Please construct a path upon which we may walk," Lucifer said.

"Indubitably," Tim said.

"Indubitably," Lucifer said.

Tim led the group of adorable mole people and us to a public square where Jon sat in a chair on an elevated platform with a clear glass helmet around his head and a high-tech collar at the base. It appeared the mole people used quite advanced technology compared to us surface dwellers. I mean, compared to humans. Jon was missing a leg, but otherwise looked fine and healthy.

Tim led us up to the platform and pulled a small microphone out of his work uniform. "Hear ye, hear ye. I, Timothy, or Tim, shall conduct this decommissioning ceremony. As you all understand, Jonathan, or Jon, will be deprived of oxygen until his life functions have ceased. This is the ruling of the mole people."

"And let it be so!" the gathered mole people in the square all shouted at once.

This wasn't right. It was Lucifer's and my fault he was injured. If we hadn't fought, none of this would have happened. I turned to Lucifer. "Heal him."

"No," Lucifer said.

"Why not?" I said.

"I don't want to turn them against us," he said.

"You're afraid of these little creatures?" I said.

"No, I'm afraid of what my father will do to me if I hurt any of them," he said.

"What do you think he'll do to you if you don't save the one who is about to die because of us?" I said.

"What are you talking about? It was your fault for calling me an asshole," he said.

"Do you think your father will see it that way?" I said.

Lucifer's head sagged. After a moment, he said, "Probably not."

"Right. Now save him," I said.

"Fine!" Lucifer said. Lucifer came up to Tim and grabbed the microphone, saying, "I regret to or happily inform you, depending on your perspective, that this decommissioning ceremony will not be performed due to my need to rectify the circumstances under which it is required."

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Then he handed the microphone back to Tim and walked over to Jon. Lucifer waved his hand over Jon's stump. As Lucifer waved his hand, Jon's leg appeared behind it as if my magic. No regeneration or anything. Just no leg, then leg.

Tim spoke into the microphone and said, "Ladies and gentlemoles, I do not believe what it is that I am seeing. Lord Lucifer, first of his name, has healed Jonathan's, or Jon's, leg! Oh, joyous day! Jonathan, or Jon, may continue to work among us as all mole people should."

"I have one query. What is it you are referring to when you say, "rectify"? That implies that some wrong has been committed."

Lucifer snatched the microphone from Tim again and said, "You are most correct, good sir, Tim. A wrong has been committed. By this man!" Lucifer pointed at me. "He is the one who dropped the artifact that injured good sir Jon."

Tim grabbed the microphone back and said, "Guards, restrain this man! He will face trial for the wrong he has committed!"

I looked at Lucifer. "What are you doing?"

Lucifer slowly walked up to me and lowered his voice. "Giving you what you asked for," he said. "You wanted me to heal him, so I did."

"Yeah, but you didn't have to tell them I dropped the sword!" I said.

One of the mole guards attached high tech looking cuffs to my wrists, and another attached cuffs to my ankles. My wrists and ankles snapped together as some force, probably magnetism, pulled them toward each other.

"That's not how it works down here," Lucifer said. "People don't do kind things without a reason and people don't do cruel things without a reason. Everything has to have a reason. If I had healed him without blaming you, they would have suspected I had done something wrong and I'd be in your position. And I very much do not want to be in your position. You don't know what kind of trouble you're in. They have ways of dealing with invincible people that horrify even me."

"Wow. Thanks for throwing me under the bus to save your own ass," I said.

"You're welcome," Lucifer said. "Hey, I never said I was a nice person. You assumed that."

"I guess I've learned my lesson, huh?" I said glaring at him.

"Have you?" Lucifer said, raising his eyebrows. "Because you still seem to think we're friends. We are not friends. Temporary allies. That's all. You volunteered to help prevent the apocalypse, and I took you up on your offer. Nothing more. Now, I get to walk away with the sword and Lilith, and more importantly, the information that will help me stop the apocalypse while you rot away down here in my place."

"Screw you," I said.

"When and where, young man. When and where," he said, with a shit-eating grin.

I struggled with the cuffs, just trying to get into a less uncomfortable position, but I realized the cuffs were too strong for me to do anything. Even if I wanted to break out, I couldn't. Just because I was invincible didn't mean I had super strength. "I hope I never see your ugly face ever again."

"Hey, take that back," he said. "I have a handsome face."

"No. I won't," I said.

"Fine," he said and walked away. He didn't disappear into the crowd like he probably intended to. The mole people were half his height, so he towered over them, but he stood a good hundred feet away and watched.

"Would you kindly decrease the force intensity on the ankle cuffs?" Tim said to a guard. The guard pressed a button on a remote and my ankles stopped being forced together.

They pushed me along and led me out of the square. The cuffs made my steps slow and difficult, but I was walking at the same pace as the tiny mole people, so I didn't fall behind. I wondered if I could just escape and run away, but with the cuffs being able to fully pull my ankles together, I wouldn't get far. I asked myself why I didn't stop them from putting the cuffs on me in the first place. One half of the answer was that I didn't want to hurt them, and the other half was that I underestimated their capabilities.

We arrived at what looked like a stereotypical court house. It had the stone steps and the pillars outside and the writing etched in stone. It was just smaller. Lucifer and I fit inside, but only because court houses were designed with high ceilings. They were high for the mole people, but normal for us. The court house was set against a cave wall. I wasn't sure what that was about, but it seemed important.

I searched deep within my soul to see if I still found these mole people who were so dangerous that they even scared Lucifer, cute, and unfortunately, the answer was yes. I was still actively underestimating them. I still thought what could they possibly do to me that it scared even an immortal being like lucifer? The only thing I had working for me, was that I knew I was underestimating them. I couldn't imagine how, but I knew whatever it was, I should be scared of it. And I was.

They walked us into a courtroom and Tim climbed up to the judge's chair and sat down. He pulled judge's robes from behind the seat and put them on. Jon stood below the judge's chair. The guards had removed his suffocation helmet.

"Will all please rise for the honorable judge, Timothy, or Tim, as surface dwellers may prefer?" Jon said.

Jon was the bailiff? What the hell? This felt like a nightmare. The person who I had convinced Lucifer to save was going to be part of the proceedings to put me to death, or worse. I knew it was the right thing to do morally, but boy did I wonder if I had made a terrible mistake in terms of my personal well-being.

Everyone was already standing, since we had just walked in here. Lucifer stood in the back, looking very amused.

Tim cleared his throat. "You may be seated," he said while adjusting his robes. "We are gathered here on this day to proceed on the unfortunate incident involving criminal negligence resulting in worker incapacitation, which caused the necessity of a decommissioning ceremony. It is only by the grace of Lord Lucifer that Jonathan, or Jon, was spared of his fate."

He shuffled paper on his desk. "For the record, please state your name as it appears on surface documents."

"Dave," I said.

"Your full legal name. As I understand it, children on the surface are always born with at least a first and last name, most often but not always with a middle name." The judge said.

I sighed. "Beauregard David Daverson."

"No way! That is precious!" I heard Lucifer say from the back.

"We didn't ask for comments from the peanut gallery," I said.

Tim slammed his gavel. "Order! I will have order in this court!"

"I apologize, your honor," I said.

"See that it doesn't happen again," Tim said.

"Yes, sir," I said. I figured I might as well keep the peace while I was here. I didn't want to make whatever awaited me worse.

"Beauregard, what is your current occupation?" Tim asked.

"Please, just call me Dave," I said.

"Very well, I will heed the defendant's personal request in how he is addressed, by henceforth referring to him simply as, Dave," he said.

"Thank you, your honor," I said.

"Dave, what is your current occupation?" He asked.

"Unemployed bookkeeper," I said.

"He failed to mention his illustrious former career in gambling!" Lucifer said.

"An interruption from the gallery is most irregular. Despite our debt to you, great Lord Lucifer, please refrain from offering further commentary," Tim said.

"My apologies, your honor," Lucifer said.

"Duly noted. Now, please continue Dave," he said, leaning on the desk.

"Bookkeeper and former professional poker player," I said through gritted teeth.

"Defendant once supported himself by resorting to gambling," Tim said as he wrote something down.

A murmur of disapproval made its way through the courtroom.

"Order!" Tim said slamming his tiny gavel three times.

"Damn it," I said under my breath.

"What was that, Dave? I was unable to ascertain the contents of your statement," Tim said.

"I was simply expressing my dissatisfaction with my current predicament to myself," I said. Oh no. I was talking like them now. Wait. Maybe I should take a note from Lucifer's book and talk like this on purpose. Yes. That is what I do.

"That is understandable, Dave, but please do try to keep those utterances to within your own mind. We do not desire for these proceedings to take any longer than is strictly necessary," he said.

"Yes, your honor," I said.

Someone walked up to Jon and handed him a roll of paper, and walked back. Jon looked at the scroll and said, "The prosecution wishes to present the formal charges, your honor."

"You may proceed, Jonathan, or Jon," Tim, the judge said.

Jon unrolled a freshly inked scroll. Jon got some of it on his shirt accidentally, but didn't seem to notice. "The defendant stands accused of the following: One count of criminal negligence resulting in worker incapacitation, and one count of causing emotional distress and pain to the worker in question."

Tim nodded. "Grave charges. Grave charges indeed. Does the defendant have legal representation, or shall we appoint one of our legal experts?"

Before I could answer, a mole person wearing a well-tailored suit scurried forward to my defendant's table. He sat down in the chair next to me.

"Hi, my name is Bartholomew, but you may call be Bart, as you are a surface dweller," he said quickly grabbing my hand and shaking it without my consent.

"Ok," I said in mild shock.

"Now that the defendant has representation, how does your client plead?"

Bart stood up and said, "My client pleads guilty, your honor."

"What?" I said. What the hell was going on? Was I being set up?