Ambivalence

Chapter Two

The market erupted with a cacophony of chaos, shaking off its peaceful slumber. Shops overflowed with goods, while street vendors crowded the narrow pathways, forcing pedestrians to march in single file like soldiers bracing for battle. On either side of the road, shops of every species stood in obedient rows, their entrances wide open; the shopkeepers knew all too well that doors would be no match for the surging impatience and violence of their customers. 

Herds of people jostled at each counter, yelling and clamoring like frenzied monkeys fighting over a banana. The din was deafening, a relentless roar that felt as if you were standing beneath a colossal speaker. Vendors shouted prices, while frustrated housewives engaged in heated arguments with exasperated shopkeepers. A clueless driver honked incessantly, attempting to navigate his car through the throng, completely oblivious to the sea of bodies blocking his way. It was as if every sound in existence had converged for a raucous reunion. 

In this uproar, one would hardly believe that this place was once the stronghold of the most feared Mafia in the world. After their disappearance, the land of Hell transformed into a mundane marketplace where ordinary people ruled their own lives, blissfully unaware of the dangers that had once loomed over them. 

Amidst the chaos stood a small eatery, defiantly isolated from the turmoil. It teetered on the brink of collapse but somehow managed to endure. Two rusty tables sat outside, accompanied by battered chairs barely fit for sitting. Yet within this humble establishment, two men worked diligently in the kitchen, fully absorbed in their craft. One chopped vegetables with precision while the other skillfully mixed ingredients, their focus unwavering amidst the surrounding clamor.

"How much time do we have to finish this?" the man responsible for cutting the vegetables demanded. "Until this soup is fully ready," the other replied, his tone dismissive. 

The first man let out an irritated sigh. "That's not what I mean. You know exactly what I'm talking about. We are not suited for this. I still don't understand why you made such a drastic decision, but we should return to our former position."

The second man remained silent, his focus unwavering. His blonde hair was loosely tied in a bun, and his crystal blue eyes were fixed on his task. Standing at around seven feet tall with a muscular build, he found it difficult to maneuver in the cramped kitchen, which was filled with the exotic aromas of spices and surrounded by raw ingredients. Despite the chaos, the first man continued to voice his concerns.

Thorn could no longer contain himself. He stepped forward, glaring at his father. "Are you even listening to me? I'm speaking the truth! Look at yourself—who would believe you are Lucifer Morningstar, the once-mighty archangel and ruler of Hell? The Pearl Heart is reduced to wearing rags and cooking for pitiful humans in a shack in Purgatory!"

"Enough, Thorn!" Lucifer snapped, his tone brooking no argument. "I don't want to hear another word. I've made it clear: we are not ready to reveal ourselves yet." He turned back to his work, dismissing Thorn's outburst with finality.

"Why hesitate? The Avenues revel in their unchecked dominance, possessing everything that rightfully belongs to us. It's time to reclaim what is ours. Every member of The Pearl Heart stands ready for your command. We have lurked in the shadows for far too long. Now is the moment to assert our power and demonstrate to the underworld who truly holds the reins! Enough with the pacifism, Dad—let's take action!" Thorn's agitation was palpable.

Lucifer sighed, "I understand, my son. We've kept ourselves hidden from the world for too long. But now is not the right moment. I've been in contact with Akin in Hades; he's been monitoring The Avenues closely. As soon as he gives the signal, we will make our move. Until then, we must remain patient."