Mammon woke up early the next morning and got the two of them breakfast down the street. There were still a few hours before he had to leave to meet his new underlings, he had told Mav that he’d be at their base at noon, which left the demon some time to relax. Although Mammon wasn’t especially worried about an ambush or trap going into the meeting, he would hardly be a demon if he wasn’t a little overconfident in his own abilities, but he did wish that he had made better preparations for it.
The Archdemon had been too wounded and tired to do much more than retreat on their first meeting, which meant that he didn’t set any traps of his own. The only thing that he was able to do then was to memorize the layout of the building and the agreed-upon meeting place. At a bare minimum, Mammon at least knew the spots that were most likely going to be used as ambush points, and he hoped that this knowledge and his new ability would be enough to get through this confrontation with minimal stress. Mammon did not want to take any more days off to heal.
“Alright, Wren,” the demon said with a smile as the two ate their breakfast, “I think I’ll take a stroll around this town come the afternoon. I’ve never had a chance to see the town we’re living in, after all.”
“Do you want me to show you around?” Wren asked, “I know all the alleyways and hiding spots!”
Mammon shook his head. “Maybe some other day, I just want a big picture of the landscape at the moment, to get the lay of the land, and I don’t think you’ll be able to follow me with the speed I plan to go. We can set aside another time to go together, I need to know where I am and what we have access to so that I can help you improve, my little lordling.”
The boy looked like he wanted to say something in protest, but wisely kept that to himself. “Okay, maybe some other time then. Be careful though, the town’s not very safe. When will you be back?”
“Tonight, I'll be... home tonight,” Mammon answered, that alien concept of a home still sitting strangely in his mind, “Can you get us some food? I’ll make sure to be back before dinner. You should also use this time to familiarize yourself with proper social etiquette, or at least how to act in public. Remember, little lordling, you’re no longer that poor nobody from before.”
“But I’ve never learned those fancy noble stuff before, Mona.”
“It’s simple enough,” the demon replied, “Just take some time today to watch the rich kids, but be discreet mind you, and learn from them. It’s the same as any other skill and you’re a bright kid yourself. Watch, mimic, and learn from the others, and I know you’ll pick up their behaviors and habits in no time.”
The boy thought for a moment before nodding. “Yeah, it’s the same way that the older boys taught me about pickpocketing. You have to act a certain way so you don't stick out. I can do that, no problem!”
“Good, you’ll need to learn a lot going forward, and this is just the start. Remember that all the heroes in the stories I told you were cunning and smart." And ruthless and cruel, but Mammon didn't voice that part out loud, "You’ll have to be the same if you want to improve in life.”
Wren nodded even more enthusiastically now. Mammon could feel his ambition, his Greed, burn in the boy’s soul. “I’ll do my best, Mona! I know I’m missing a lot right now, I’m not like any of those heroes in your stories, but I have you with me, and I know I can be as good, no, I can be better than any of those people!”
“I know you will,” Mammon assured, “You wouldn’t have been able to summon me if you didn’t have that potential in you. Now go get ready yourself, I’ve got to get going if I’m to finish before dusk.”
“Okay, be careful, Mona!”
The demon smiled. “I always am.”
It was a lie, of course, the idea of caution and care went against Greed's fundamental pedagogy, and Mammon had been unable to go against those core tenets for the longest time, although he supposed that wouldn’t be the case anymore given his new soul. But as they say, old habits die hard, and Mammon wasn’t about to change his entire outlook on life just because he could now.
* * *
The walk back to the hideout was uneventful, not that Mammon thought otherwise given the time of day. However, it was impossible to ignore the palpable tension in the air as he walked down the dingy alleyways and streets of the slum. It was abundantly clear that everyone here knew that something big had happened in the prior days and that something big was right around the corner.
Well, the citizens weren’t wrong there. Mammon was expecting some sort of retaliation, which is why he had stocked up on some gear on his way over. He had purchased, using the money he had looted earlier, a pair of daggers and as many protective charms and amulets as he possibly could in short order. The good stuff was unavailable, of course, but Mammon supposed that sheer quantity could cover for quality if needed. It was a gamble he was willing to take.
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So it was to no one’s surprise that the first layer of Mammon’s protections went off almost the second he stepped into the gang’s territories. A huge flare of blue energy erupted from one of the amulets in the demon’s pockets, and he saw a blaze of fire hitting the newly created barrier. The demon looked up to see a hooded man on a rooftop frown before fleeing.
Well, now that wouldn’t do. Mammon had to show strength, and that meant that no one who dared scheme against him could go unpunished. With a leap, the demon propelled himself into the air and landed on the roof with a thud. The poor would-be assassin made the fatal mistake of looking back to see what had happened, and in that moment of lapsed concentration, Mammon took out one of the shiny golden coins in his pocket and hurled it into the man’s leg.
Perhaps the man could have avoided the shot if he was expecting that sort of retaliation, but why would he have? Mammon was still a dozen feet away from his attacker, and the man did not anticipate the sheer strength the demon possessed when he looked like a fragile young woman. The projectile hit its mark and tore through the man’s left ankle, crippling him instantly.
His screams were ignored.
In fact, now that Mammon thought about it, this particular part of the slums was oddly devoid of life. He’d have to thank the people plotting his downfall for this small favor, now he didn’t have to worry about alerting law enforcement when he made the necessary cull.
“Wait, please, I was only doing as I was told! Please, I’ll give you money, I’ll tell you who sent me!” the downed man screamed as he tried his best to staunch the bleeding stump, “I-I’ll bleed out and die at this rate. Please, call a healer, please!”
Mammon walked up to the bleeding man at a leisurely pace, it went without saying that the demon enjoyed the suffering of others, even though the CEO of Hell was more interested in emotional ruin than the physical suffering that some of his lesser brethren enjoyed. Still, indulging in some bodily agony was a pleasant change, and he allowed the man to suffer for a spell before addressing him.
“I can stop the bleeding,” Mammon said before throwing a small notebook and pencil on the ground next to the injured man. It landed a few feet away from his position.“But you have to tell me who sent you. Write it down.”
The man scrambled to the paper, ignoring his wounds. Mammon had to admire his willpower, the coin had hit at such high velocity that it had caused pieces of the mage’s bone to splinter and explode; the demon had seen other men and women die of shock from lesser injuries in the past, yet this man was still coherent.
“Yes, of course!” he muttered, starting to frantically scribble down whatever relevant information he thought Mammon needed. A short while later, he stopped and begged the demon to help him.
Mammon took the offered paper, soaked in sweat and grime now, and read its contents. Well, he pretended to in any case, he didn’t care who was behind the assassination attempt. He crunched the paper up and threw it away, much to the incredulity of the bleeding mage.
“B-but, why?”
“Because,” the demon said slowly, “I honestly don’t care who sent you, but don’t you worry, I will keep my promise. Now hold still while I try to stop the bleeding…”
Mammon gave the downed man his kindest smile and bent down, his hand turning gold as he did so. It was as good a time as any to test out his abilities, and Mammon was very interested in learning more about the beautiful golden properties of his new skill. Unfortunately, it appears that the would-be assassin didn't share the demon's enthusiasm. He bent down and touched the bleeding wound.
And then the streets were filled with screams.
As it turned out, the human body was woefully unequipped to handle turning into gold, but it was a little more complex than just that. It turned out that parts of the body, and in fact, anything else that Mammon touched, transmuted at a different rate. Inorganic objects closest to metals would turn much quicker than organic substances, and as a result of that, the iron found in the mage’s blood had transmuted first. It was an agonizing process, or so Mammon assumed by the odd noises and pleas of mercy the man made.
Well, true to Mammon’s words, he had stopped the bleeding, although the demon was sure that the wounded man didn’t want the rest of his blood to stop flowing as well. Mammon marveled at how each vein and artery had stiffened and changed, a fascinating process until the transmutation finally reached the man’s heart, turning the organ into a solid lump of precious metal. The demon didn’t need to explain what happened then, even if his abilities were only temporary.
Mammon supposed that he should take the corpse with him, but without the majority of his abilities available to him, heaving an entire body would be cumbersome. He doubted that even the most bribed guardsperson could ignore the demon lugging around one of those. Instead, Mammon took the man’s cloak and used it as a makeshift sack. The man’s head would suffice as a deterrent for the others who might think that trying to kill him was a good idea, and the look of pure agony on the man’s rictus features would serve well as a warning.
His new daggers made short work of the decapitation process, and once he was satisfied with his work, the demon strolled happily through the streets to his designated meeting place. There were two other idiots who tried something similar as he came closer to the building, but he dispatched them just as quickly. The only problem Mammon had was that his collection of heads was starting to become burdensome to lug around now. Still, Mammon couldn’t complain, he had learned a lot about his strange new ability, and better yet, he wasn’t even late for his appointment.
The demon ignored the nervous thugs dispatched to act as guards and entered the headquarters of the gang as if he owned the place. Scratch that, he thought, he did own this place, or at least he would very shortly. True to Mav’s words, he had gathered everyone who had a say in the criminal undertakings here; a rough count showed 8 people in total present, and three of them were sweating nervously as they saw Mammon enter. This was why the demon didn’t need the confessions of his assassins to figure out the ones responsible.
Now it would be inevitable for the guilty parties to deny all wrongdoing, and Mammon was willing to bet that they had perfect alibi’s and excuses lined up, but the law didn’t work like that with Mammon around. Not only was it abundantly clear from the expressions of the guilty parties, but the demon could literally see the Sin oozing out of their bodies like a toxic cloud. You couldn’t hide your crimes from a denizen of Hell, after all, and certainly not from one of its rulers.
Mammon was about to explain in violent detail just what happens when people try to take advantage of him, and he would enjoy it thoroughly.