Chapter Text
The noisy hallway of the factory went quiet as soon as the large demon entered. Lustful kisses broke off momentarily, teasing chatter muted instantly, and any individual in the middle of the path pressed themselves against the walls.
The big Jester ventured through these halls with a sinister smile so wide that he made all the vermin scattering around him tremble with fear. If it wasn't for his fellow Sin, he would have teleported right up to his office in the blink of an eye, but since Asmodeus forbade him to do so in his establishment, he had to walk all the way upstairs. A nuisance of course, but seeing all these pathetic worms scatter away and f*cking up their tasks made it up for that.
In moments like these, the widely feared Deadly Sin was glad Asmodeus never taught his underlings proper respect. Else he wouldn´t have the joy of making them quiver with a single look alone. In Greed there was a certain etiquette when a royal passed the commoners. Well, not on the streets, but everywhere that was considered core grounds for political or economic matters.
Speaking of economic matters, the King remembered that he still had some duties to fullfill after this flimsy little meeting between him and his long-time business partner. From shallow business to an annual boring but essential occasion. A frown spread on his features only thinking about attending that pesky celebration. Yes, yes, it was important indeed. Without it, Greed would fall into chaos and his residents would spiral out of control without his firm guidance.
It can´t be helped. It was his duty to keep things running smoothly and without trouble. Greed´s economy wouldn't be flourishing without his authority and control systems. Were his measures too harsh? Maybe, but without them, his Ring would lose what they had worked hard for thousands of years. They would lose their beloved wealth and status. All the money.
His money.
With the utmost precision and painstakingness, two calm hands adjusted his son's tie, making it sit neatly and with absolute perfection on the collar of his white shirt. Inspecting the tiny tailored suit for any particles or dust on its smooth black surface.
The ten-year-old's hair was neatly combed and arranged with the finest hair oil, especially bought for this important event. Two yellow glowing eyes sternly looked into his father's. A self-assuredness seldomly found in such a young individual. It was all perfect. He had prepared his son with the best of his abilities. Thinking back about the past years, there was no doubt he hadn't done everything in his power and reach to grant his son an outstanding training.
And outstanding he was. Not only in abilities but also in terms of character. Just like his father and the father of his father had placed the right measures to shape a proper successor for their family.
But…what if it didn't go well?
What if the odds were against him?
What if something transpired that was just outside of his control? A subtle change in nature…
The young imp's mouth moved, but the father´s mind was somewhere else.
Somewhere between the dignity of his family and his son's very own mortality.
“Father?” the quiet voice rang out. Concern glimmered in his eyes.
He cleared his throat, blinking these troubling thoughts away, wishing these were just mere concerns of his.
“You should not address me like that. You are to call me Sir.”
The boy, confused by his father's words, stilled, his calm and collected expression returned.
“Yes, Sir. I apologize.”
One last tug to straighten the fabric and then they started their journey to one of the centerpieces of Greed.
Loud hammering, nose-wrenching toxic fumes, and a heat that seeped through rugged clothing and created blisters on the filthy skin of workers down in the pits of the factory. Rows of material crafted under sweat and pressure. Enormous rusty machines grinding at their own pace which the Imps and Sharks operating around it had to follow.
A piercing scream echoed through the area but did nothing to disturb the never-ending rhythm of this facility. The unstoppable workforce toiling day and night to meet the wearisomely standards inflicted upon them.
A devilish smile and a satisfied expression sat on Mammon´s features as he relished in the rich and flourishing fruits of his empire.
Hundreds of pitiful Imps and Loan sharks slave away under the pressure of Greed´s smoke-filled glowing sky.
The clangs of hammers and the drums of machines were music to his ears. The stench of chemical fumes was a promising scent of fortune and riches.
He lit a cigar and added another pall of smoke to the endless black shadows rising from the countless melting furnaces from the pit down below.
With joyful strides, the godfather of all Clowns strolled on top of the high cement walls of the industrial area. Each acoustic shock and sibilance caused by the inner workings of his beloved centerpiece of Greed excited his mood by the second.
High up in the sky, he danced to his own rhythm.
Powerful machinery and an endless supply of laborers formed the pillars of his powerful and insatiable economy. More and more, wider and farther. Day after day, his kingdom expanded.
To mine the greatest values of all. Accumulating the true riches the King sought so dearly after.
Money and wealth.
The joy of these was unmatched. Any other pleasantries could never satiate his voracious hunger for more.
To keep the masses moving, to keep the system going, and the keep the fountains of gold flowing, he needed every little gear fitting perfectly into place.
One nail standing out will be plugged and neatly disposed of.
The great stroke of the clock for the staff's change of shifts, equally signaled him it was time to leave.
While the sight of the Greed's wide industrial landscape never failed to make him smile, he had business to attend to and who was he to be late to the most important day in the life of Greed's new blood?
He better not keep them waiting.
After all, time is money.
And he refused to lose what was his.
The tension was not visible, but each guardian felt it deep in their bones.
The number of promising shark and imp kids was meager. The less, the shorter the ceremony will be. The less, the easier to stand out in the crowd. It was not yet to say if that was going to be a bad thing or not.
It all depended on his mood.
The tall and lanky Imp remembered when he was the one standing in the front row, in line with the other children around his age. Now his son of ten years will follow in his father's footsteps. Well, he will possibly be allowed to do so.
The ticking clock struck the eerie silence. While every man and the few women present showed no to little distress, neither failed to feel the gravity of the situation.
When the second hand brushed the 12 of the clock´s face, they all held their breath. It felt like an eternity. Only when one minute slid by the father dared to exhale.
He was late.
Why was he-
It happened too fast. He had averted his eyes for one second from the middle of the room and back to the dreaded clock when a thundering sound echoed through the long corridor and up to the massive room where they were all gathered nervously.
The closed sliding door rattled due to the extreme air pressure pushing against the walls.
Despite the more than alarming unnatural detonation, all those present remained unmoving. After a short silence, loud and painfully slow footsteps approached their current location.
A quick look down revealed his son had still kept his composure. Of course, he trained him to do so. Over and over again.
However, one look to the side and he caught a glimpse of a fellow Imp by the name of Mawrice whom he remembered well had beads of cold sweat run down his temple. His father had warned him this was prone to happen. Memories so deeply engraved in their mind. How could anyone forget?
The door slid open and in strut the giant Jester. Bells jingling in delight. With a comical stride, he marched into the center of the room.
Guffaws of laughter and arms swinging with joy.
It was when the towering demon of green turned around to face them everyone straightened their back, eyes fixed on a spot somewhere behind.
“Heya Kids!! Glad ya could all make it to our little gathering here today! I bet you sure must be excited. Hahaha!!”
The tall clown swung around carelessly, balancing on one foot. His golden staff juggling in his set of many hands.
“I´m sure ya´ll can´t f*cking wait to show me what you lil sh*ts got here for me tonight!”
The silence was deafening despite every jingling sound, creak, and laughter the jester demon created by his sheer presence alone.
“But before ya go and demonstrate what your squishable little teeny noggins came up with, I got a special surprise for ya!! How does that sound? Yay!”
He laughed and danced. Jumped up and down, but the ridiculous display got not a single reaction out of them.
Suddenly Mammon tilted his head, so much you could hear an audible crack. Devious smirk wide.
Continuing his playful demeanor he walked up to one of the kids, a shark, in the front line. Bending all the way down, meeting him face to face. His glowing eyes and rows of sharp teeth were now only a hairsbreadths away from the boy's face.
Yet, he managed to keep his expression straight. His tiny body unmoving, in absolute focus.
“Though crowd here tonight, don´t ya think??” the large jester joked, but his wide grin never reached his eyes. One look up and the boy would have seen pools of madness.
“Yes, sir.” the boy replied calmly.
The face of the giant demon inched closer ever so slowly, smile stretching wider and wider. When the boy did not flinch nor falter, he left, turning his back.
“Gooood!”
The shark boy´s father´s chest swelled with pride.
Hopefully, his son would pass like that too.
Or pass…
He sunk his sharp teeth into his tongue, biting these thoughts of insecurity away. Just as if he could smell the fear erupting from his pores, the massive Jester swirled around, looking at the crowd of grown-ups, standing behind their young. Eying each carefully.
When nothing occurred he continued his spiel.
“Alright! Today´s surprise iiis~
Bring them in boys!
Come on gimme a drum roll ya c*nts!”
Nobody did.
The Sin drummed his lower set of hands on his belly, creating the anticipated drumroll.
Two large hellhounds rolled two coffins inside. A large and a small one.
With an iron bar, the gruff canines popped the first lid open. An Imp tied up in ropes fell out. His whole attire was torn and dirty as if someone had dragged him on the ground several for a long distance. Desperate eyes searched around the room. Due to the rag tucked in his mouth, his pleads of whining could never be heard.
The silent crowd unmoved by the hopeless man´s attempts to call for help. This was a mere illusion. Since everyone here, the pitiful Imp included, already knew whatever he had done, or whatever had happened. That sealed his fate.
With a crack, another smaller Imp popped out of the tinier coffin.
“Haha!! See they even come in double packs now!!”
With cruel laughter, their king broke the silence and the foreign imps' resilience.
No, wait. He knew that Imp. He was a colleague, in fact.
Was.
As the man started shaking on the ground, Mammon kicked his back.
“Get up ya floozie! This ain´t a slumber party! It´s a bloody party! We celebrate here!!”
With wobbly feet, he managed to stand up. Somehow seeing the King in front of him, got back his composure, because his shaking started to cease. Tears still streaming down his face, he looked his King in the eyes.
“So, how did ya get her, mate? Look at you! All f*cked up? Tell me what happened to ya buddy?”
With a snap of his fingers, the blood-dyed rag in his mouth dissolved into smoke.
“S-Sir.. I-I… It wasn´t…”
Mammon leaned close, joyous smile never leaving his face.
“Yeah? It wasn´t what?” he asked, tone soft and with false empathy.
The imp´s words died in his throat as he looked down. Dread had finally settled in.
“Please, spare my child.” His words steady and clear.
“Huh?”
“Please, Sir, I beg yo-”
Suddenly, a golden swirl collided with the imp´s side. The blow sent him crashing against the wall.
The arm where the object had impacted, crushed and broken. Black liquid streamed down his face. Fighting for air, the imp cowered on the floor wide-eyed. If that hit didn't cause his internal organs to bleed already, the expected upcoming ones surely would.
“Now, now? No hello? You come in here bleed on the whole f*cking floor and then beg me to do you a favor? How rude of ya! Didn't your family teach you some manners?”
The imp mouthed an apology. A submissive behavior drilled into the back of his mind.
But his paternal instinct had come first. Causing this scene in the first place.
Well in the second. He must have done something justifying the current position he brought his child and himself in.
The large demon, still portraying the awfully daunting clown act, stomped over to where his golden staff had sent the poor individual.
“Now ya see kids, this is what happens when ya make Mammon maad~
And I can assure you, nobody wants that!
Nobody likes to see a sad clown! Not a single soul would pay for that sh*t!
A sad clown…” he pulled the man up by his throat with something invisible seemingly connected to the tips of his fingers.
“An angry clown. An unhappy clown. An upset clown~” he continued counting.
The crowd watched silently.
The man´s hollow eyes stared into nothing. Standing still.
“Now do we want that?” Mammon smirked. Rows of sharp teeth exposed. Tiny glowing sets of eyes popped up over his two larger glaring ones.
“No.” the Imp spoke.
With a splat, the Imps head burst open. The golden tip of Mammon's staff pierced through at once. Blood and organic matter splashed onto the floor, the roof, and some unsuspecting children in the front row.
“Now what did I tell ya? Don´t make the clown unhappy?”
The golden object rotated in his hand, black goo and liquid spattered off it until he rammed it back into the ground.
“The bill´s paid alright! Yay!” the King cheered, throwing confetti into the room which he had stored in his pocket.
Now the promising image from before had changed. A few children tried their best to stay firm and solid, but great number failed slightly.
Looking at each kid, Mammon had made his choice. He went back to the small imp still cowering on the floor beside the coffin. A wet spot covered a large portion of their pants. Without a word, he dragged them up to the front line of kids.
Why would any guardian place their kid in the front row? It´s easy: Everyone tried to catch the best place for their child. Those with the best performance, the best posture, and the most outstanding resilience had the best chances of earning Mammon's favor. Now and then, when someone in the underworld f*cked up, a few were granted forgiveness. Mercy would show with the words: “Now, let´s forget about it. I remember ya. You were a tough kid. Wouldn't want to waste good material like that.”
So, now was their time to show what they got.
“You there.” Mammon's voice was dark and rough. “Take ya gun. Let me see how good ya aim is.”
He pushed the tied-up child into the middle of the room. The shaken kid tumbled but came to a halt on time. Then Mammon´s chosen little helper drew a gun out of its holster and aimed right at his target. There was no hesitation in his movements, but even the unskilled eye could see that he was shaken, putting every strain of willpower to stay in control of his body.
Then Mammon started the countdown.
“One, two, three…”
When the young deathsman's eyes lost all their warmth and their chubby finger was just about to push the trigger-
“Stop.”
He halted. The ought-to-be-dead kid in front of him flinched when no gunshot was released.
Silence, and nothing else.
After seconds, that felt like a small eternity Mammon started to clap slowly.
“Very good, kid. Nice ta see ya got what it takes.”
With the snap of his hand, Mammon summoned his canine goons, which released the shivering child from its restraints. The big Jester had lit a cigar in the meantime and leaned down hovering above him.
“Ya better do a better job than your Daddy, or else the two of us ain´t gonna be friends, capiche?” Even as his voice was dripping with sweetness, the danger lurking in every word was more than present.
“See, the big Clown doesn´t like being fibbed at! So, you keep that in mind, cause whatever you do, I am always watching what your cute little hands are doing.
Understood?”
“Y-Yess, S-Sir.” the young child croaked. No one would have blamed them for sh*tting their pants now, but here they were trying put on an unmoved act. Just what their father also had tried to teach them.
"Alright!" He straightened his back again and took a close look at the in comparison to his large self smaller individuals standing still like statues before him.
"Time's up, children! The clown man´s gotta go now! Haha!" he exclaimed, back to his cheerful self.
Suddenly, Mammon´s voice dropped low, and he shot their guardians a sinister smirk.
"I think I already got a good enough picture of what I am dealing with."
A dark chuckle echoed through the room and with a few sparks of lightning, he powered up and left with a hefty explosion. Leaving the heads of Greed´s mafia, as well as their distraught offspring behind in a cloud of smoke.
A day in Oz´s factory, a day in one of his establishments, and a day after a rather entertaining morning.
A promising day it was and now that everything was over relaxing in his jacuzzi in the castle of Greed was the best reward. His whole massive body was submerged in hot water. Lilac bubbles ascended into the air only to pop halfway to the top, leaving a calming otherworldly plop sound.
The warmth not only soothed his tired muscles but also his exhausted mind. Mammonj sighed in contentment, sliding down deeper, fur soaking with fluid and now dancing in the water. The only sounds ringing out were the occasional plopping of the bubbles and the watery noises his occasional shifts created.
The king had sent his servants away, so he could take off his jester hat without trouble. So used to the cap and its thick material it felt rather weird taking it off. Yet, letting the long appendages spring free also felt satisfying, to say the least.
After a few more minutes, he became bored and snatched his phone to zap through Sinstagram and other Social Media. When a text message popped in, he stopped his endless loop of watching ads for hellhound brushes that take so much fur out of a canine that you could craft a new one out of that.
“Hey!
Sorry, I forgot my bag at your place! Can I come by and get it back?😅
Don´t worry, I´ll be quick! Nothing more.
Can one of your servants give it to me?”
He observed as you deleted the last question. Three dots dancing and vanishing. Dancing and then stop.
The amusing display caused a big smirk to stretch on his features. He took a sip from his wine and watched further as you didn't seem to find the right words to answer until you gave up entirely. Your status changed to offline.
Oh, what a sheepish little c*nt you were~
So shy and reserved. Didn´t you know you had already hit the jackpot by the King of Greed simply keeping you around? A rare privilege granted to nobody.
Mammon didn't know why, but something inside him always began to itch whenever you were around him. It was rare that he felt enormous waves of lust. Let alone for one being!
Why though? He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but he knew there were parts of your body he´d really like to put his finger or more on.
Sadly, not today. He was simply not in the mood, so he tossed his phone away, deciding he´d answer you whenever the itch came back to him. Something told him it would be sooner than later that he´ll have your adorable little face back in his claws.
A dark chuckle echoed through the silent bathroom.
Then suddenly that weird itch was back.
