Lucifer's anger should be anything other than reassuring, but that is the plain truth of it. Worse than facing off against their Father again would be facing Him and his brother both.

(The hypocrisy of this sentiment is not lost on him, but Michael has a talent for ignoring sentiment.)

"You've missed a few things." Michael waves a hand, dismissive. How he got out of the Cage isn't any more important than how Lucifer is standing in front of him right now. It's the present reality, and that's all that matters for the moment. "Our Father returned. Again. The last I saw Him, He'd seemed to come around to your notion of destroying humanity. If He were to show up here and you're not planning to help Him, I suppose that would give you a week to kill Him. Assuming this isn't all some joke of His, of course."

Michael's not a writer. He can't begin to fathom their Father's logic. To the best of his knowledge, He had shredded all of His rough drafts. By all rights, Abraxas shouldn't exist. Either this world is another experiment of His or it's something entirely separate—an almost inconceivable notion, but he's getting used to downing those hard-to-swallow pills.