Mammon was pleasantly surprised to see that it was the metal bars that gave way instead of his fists when he punched out. The force of the blow sent an awful shockwave of sound out that momentarily stunned everyone else in the room, but what was worse than the sound was the heavy metal barricade flying into the nearest thug. The man didn’t survive.

The demon took that momentary lapse in concentration to pounce out of the cell to rip the head off the man beside the pile of broken bones and metal frames. It took significantly more effort to do so than Mammon remembered, and he had to stifle a sigh from seeing just how diminished his form was. Well, at least he had dealt with two of the immediate threats. With those goons down, there were only 7 men and the leader left. Mammon had to make sure to keep that one alive.

“Shit!” someone yelled, Mammon took a moment to see that it was one of the people who took him here. “I fucking told you she was a mage! She ripped Salem's damned head off, it’s a fucking duel core!”

“Shut up!” their leader answered, “Doesn’t matter if she’s a fucking mage, we still have eight people, stop talking and kill the bitch!”

Duel core? More terms that Mammon didn’t understand, but those questions could wait for later. The demon felt the familiar energies gather by the two in the back and he knew that he had to take those men out. Mammon took out the few rocks he had pocketed and threw them as hard as he could, aiming straight at the head of the two chanting magicians. Only one of the projectiles connected with a pleasant crack of fractured bone and brain matter, with the other one blocked by the leader of the thugs.

“Looks to be Earth and Spirit,” he muttered, as he shook the hand that blocked the shot. Mammon saw the other man was holding what looked like a crystalline shield - no, on closer inspection, it was frozen ice. “Fucking explains how he tricked that fool. Be careful, the skank’s strong.”

Mammon didn’t have time to process the strange abilities seen as he felt a strange heat rapidly approach his position. On instinct, he lept to the right, narrowly dodging an invisible beam of plasma. The demon could just narrowly see the two-inch hole of melted stone where he previously stood.

The demon felt a dull ache as someone slammed something into the side of his body. Momentarily stunned by the unusual sensation - how long had it been since he felt any discomfort? - the demon didn’t have the time to fully dodge the next attack and allowed a sharp spear of ice to impale the side of his leg. Annoyingly, the wound started to freeze even as he moved further back.

Mammon shouted in frustration. He was so used to the powers that he used to possess that he allowed himself to become complacent. Through sheer force of will and using whatever remained of his old abilities, Mammon shattered the icicle lodged in his leg and abandoned all semblance of defense. In such a narrow room, and facing so many foes, it would be impossible to avoid injury, but that fact went both ways. The demon rushed to the nearest combatant and ripped her throat out. The poor woman couldn't dodge due to her proximity to her supposed comrades.

The rest of the combatants weren't just sitting around while Mammon killed their kin, they did everything in their abilities to harm the demon. Thankfully, Mammon was still supernaturally though, so bladed weapons and throwing daggers could only pierce his skin, if that. It was the magic that was annoying. Beams of superheated energy would threaten to take his head off, while annoying icicles and frost impeded his movements. He was only alive because his enemies were still trying their best to avoid friendly fire, but as the foe's numbers dwindled, that safety net would decrease. Mammon had to do something to shift the course of the battle.

If nothing else, Mammon had the benefit of overwhelming strength, and his physical body was still able to shrug off most of the wounds he suffered, but even he could tell that to continue to fight would be a losing battle. The magical wounds were doing more damage than he’d like to admit, and even the mundane bruises and cuts were adding up, so the only option he had left was obvious.

The demon bellowed a primal warcry and he pounced on the next victim; his body wouldn’t completely give out for at least a few more moments, and he took that time to smash into the other fighter. This time, he didn’t go for the kill right away, instead ripping and clawing, and even biting the poor man, choosing instead to inflict as much pain and suffering as possible. Even as Mammon’s own wounds got to intolerable levels, he never relented. He slashed the bleeding man’s arm off and took a bite off the bleeding stump before focusing his crazed gaze on the next individual.

Mammon could smell the fear and unease now. Seeing that the demon had just ignored the injuries they tried to inflict, they incorrectly assumed that Mammon wasn't taking damage at all, and coupled with those horrifying screams they had heard, and well, it was obvious that their morale would take a drastic hit. These men and women were not trained soldiers, nor did they have any true connections with each other, so when faced with a blood and gore-soaked berserker, the abilities of the common thugs to think quickly left their panicked brains. No one wanted to end up as the demon’s next victim. The ones closest to the door, which included the one remaining fire mage, chose to flee.

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“Pissing cowards! Come back and fight! She’s almost dead, any fucking idiot can see that! Where are your god damned spines?” the leader screamed. He was still unharmed after the short scuttle, but from the amount of sweat drenching his body, he was just as unnerved as all the rest of his minions. There were only two others left who didn't choose to run, or perhaps they couldn't.

The other two looked like they wanted to run as well, but Mammon needed to ensure that the rest of these individuals didn’t escape. He was fully bluffing at the moment, and the demon didn’t think that he could go against any more of the goons. While the three survivors were still struggling to figure out what best to do, Mammon picked up the metal gate that he had thrown in the beginning and chucked it at the only exit. With a heavy thud, the metal lodged itself into the staircase, sealing off the only way out.

The demon snarled to get the attention of the thugs back on him.

“Look,” one of the men said, “We… we surrender, or at least I do, okay?”

“Shut up!” their leader said, “We can-”

“We can what? That freak ate our friends!”

Mammon shook his head. It was clear that the leader’s will to fight wasn't completely gone, unlike his friend. He had to change that, and there was a Hell-Tested method of doing just that. Mammon walked up, almost leisurely, to the man who spoke and took the next fifteen minutes impressing upon the others the true meaning of fear.

By the time the demon was finished, the other two were a pittering mess of sobs. He needed their minds feeble and pliable, to be in a state that would never fully recover for a complete takeover to go without issue. He couldn’t afford to allow these two to have any second thoughts about following orders or having thoughts about rebelling.

“I will say this one time,” Mammon said, forcing his voice to distort to uncomfortable levels, “So listen carefully. I am now in charge of this little operation. All of your assets are now mine. Are there any questions?”

Mammon spat out the piece of meat stuck to his teeth as he gazed down at the trembling men. They didn’t ask any questions.

“Good,” the demon continued, “You, the old leader, what’s your name?”

No answer, well, unless Mammon counted the gibberish sputtering from the man’s mouth that was.

Mammon sighed. He was afraid this would happen. After witnessing such extreme violence, it was common for the average mind to simply snap when forced to face such extreme stimuli. Mammon had hoped that this hardened criminal would have been slightly desensitized to violence, although he supposed that nothing could really prepare you for the horrors of Hell.

The demon nudged the still trembling man, and much to Mammon’s appreciation, he did start to snap out of the worst of the trauma.

“It’s… they call m-me Mav. I- I don’t…”

Mammon sighed again. This was getting nowhere. At least the man had the sense to respond, so he wasn’t completely useless, but it was abundantly clear that the demon wouldn’t be able to get anything intelligible out of him for the time being. He’d have to have someone else answer all the more pressing questions on his mind.

“Never mind,” The demon shook his head. “Just tell me where all the money is.”

Another blank stare was all that greeted the demon. Well, it wasn’t like he needed the man to respond. Mammon, as diminished as he was, could still instinctively gauge where the hidden funds were. What did annoy the demon was that he couldn’t obtain the information he wanted from the man. It was abundantly clear that it would take a lot longer than he thought the gangster’s mind to recover.

Mammon sighed and shifted his form again, this time to simply reset his body’s natural appearance more than anything else. He felt his bones reknit where they had broken, blood vessels reforming and cuts mending in a cacophony of absolute agony, but even though the two survivors were half-mad, Mammon still didn’t allow even the ghosts of a grunt to escape his lips.

The surviving goon, the one beside Mav, pissed himself before completely passing out when he saw Mammon’s skin squirm and wiggle through his transition.

“W-what are you?” Mav managed to say finally.

“You can call me Mona,” the demon grinned, “And I’m your new boss.”

* * *

Dawn’s light was fast approaching by the time Mammon finished everything he needed to accomplish at Mav’s base. To the gangster’s credit, he did recover faster than anticipated, and he was able to oversee Mammon’s transition of power. Of course, the demon wasn’t naive enough to believe that the process would be that simple. He anticipated that there would be plenty of detractors and ambitious upstarts coming to challenge his rule in the coming days, but those minor issues could be dealt with easily enough.

For now, Mammon told Mav that he would come back in two day’s time to assume his role as the leader of their little gang, and he even told the man that he welcomed any attempts at his life then. After all, it was easier for Mammon to eliminate all of his competition if they came to him all at once than to hunt each and every one of them by himself. Once he emptied one of the criminal’s many coffers, Mammon left the slums and made his way back home; he even remembered to pick up some breakfast for the boy and himself along the way.

All in all, despite the many wounds that he suffered - he’d have to rest to ensure that he fully recovered, hence the delayed meeting - Mammon felt that he made very productive use of his time. Aside from some minor housekeeping things, he had secured a steady source of income for the time being, and if he could expand these operations… well, that would be good enough as a starting point for his adventures in this new world. He’d have to slowly ease the boy into a leadership role as well, and having him get his feet wet with a small local gang would be a great starting point.

Mammon stepped past the threshold of his new base of operation, no, it was his home, and for the first time, despite his wounds and the mountain of work ahead, the demon prince of Avarice felt at peace. He could get used to that.