The Grace of Greed Part II
Notes:
And now it's time for a matchup as old as time itself: a sexy blonde demon in black leather versus a sadist angel in kinky nurse gear and Hatsune Miku hair!
In one swift motion, the angel flung Mammon at Lucifer like a ragdoll. The blonde demons slammed into each other, but quickly reoriented. They both looked at their opponent and her frankly ridiculous outfit.
As if having massive twin tails that went from sky blue to cotton candy pink at the ends wasn't enough, the Virtue was dressed in a sexy nurse getup with a heart-shaped boob window cut out of her belly bearing white top, a pathetically short skirt held up by two leather belts and knee-high boots with an aqua arrow pointing down towards her winged heeled with white crosses running down the middle.
The only thing they took seriously was the cocky smirk on her face, clearly eager to knock both the Sins down a peg.
"Aw, only the two of you?" Metatron taunted, "What, is the rest of your little freakshow burning down orphanages?"
"You wish!" Satan goaded as she charged in, trying to slice the angel in half. Right on her tail was Beelzebub, fire dancing on her hands and making it clear that she planned on charring her wings.
Metatron, however, threw herself aside from Satan's swing and then easily dodged Beelzebub's fireball. The blondes tried to attack but the angel only to find a giant scalpel blocking them, Mammon getting clotheslined by the handle while Lucifer almost getting gutted by the blade.
"Some great healer you're supposed to be…"
"Oh, just you wait, Lucifer. I have the most perfect medicine for you and all your new underworld friends. I just can't wait to help that pet human girl you've been carting around…"
"Like Hell you will!"
Threatening Maria was just the thing to give Lucifer an extra push to knock Metatron back before rushing in to sock her across the face. The pastel-colored angel flew straight through the mountain of treasure and soon got buried under an avalanche of gold and gems. Mammon rushed up to the top to grab the crown, setting it on her head and waiting for the flood of power to come…
She waited…
And waited…
And then promptly got slapped across the face, flying off as the crown spun in midair before landing in Metatron's hands.
"How dare you! Thinking that you could ever steal the power of the heavens. Your greed is as endless as the rest of your depravity!"
And so the game of keep away began, three of the sins trying to steal the precious diadem away as Metatron juggled and passed it around to herself. They flew and ran all across the vault, using the abundance around them as ammunition. Giant jewels became cannonballs to throw at each other. Bundles of money became flaming torches thanks to Beelzebub. Satan caused more mountains to collapse by flexing her energy. And Lucifer found many makeshift weapons from the golden staffs, chains and even a few effigies made of the shiny metal being used to try and beat Metatron down.
Mammon, meanwhile, was keeping a close eye on the fight from a distance. She was taking stock of all her potions and wondering what could be the best to take the angel down. She had sleeping droughts, glue bombs, all sorts of poisons ranging from subtle to lethal and even a few vials of nitroglycerine tucked away. The problem was that either of those could hurt the other Sins or needed Metatron to drink them in order to work.
"Note to self: Look into making something like those magic missiles from D&D…"
Her eyes followed the crown, watching it be tossed around and passing between the angel's hands. All she needed to do was swoop in and grab it as soon as possible. In an effort to avoid a three-prong attack by the Sins, Metatron lobbed the precious headpiece into the air to free up her hands.
"Perfect!"
Mammon flew in as fast as she could, hurtling through the air. She was inches away from grabbing her artifact, still feeling its power tingle across her hands, only for an errant Beelzebub to be chucked at her by the pigtails.
Satan, naturally, didn't take this well.
"I'm going to tear you to shreds!" she roared, her blood-red aura erupting to life as she charged in again. Metatron's scalpel, however, proved too weak to stop her. It was sliced in two by a brutal upswing, giving Lucifer the opening she needed. Metatron tried to swerve around her pike only for a scowling Bub to point an arm-turned-cleaver at her if she tried to dodge.
"Guess you're going to need a doctor!" Lucifer boasted as her spear sunk into Metatron's chest. The angel squealed in pain, her hands locking up and dropping the diadem. Even as she snarled at the demons, Mammon paid her no mind and grabbed ahold of the crown again.
"S-Stop, you monster…" Metatron begged, "T-That crown's power was never meant to be possessed! It'll destroy you!"
"Considering you're the alternative, I'll take the chance."
Mammon placed the crown on her head, the artifact suddenly radiating light. Everyone shut their eyes, expecting her to blessed with its power, only for her to shriek in horror and rip the thing away from her.
"Mammon?! Mammon, what's wrong?"
The greedy blonde was sweating bullets, hugging herself in terror and babbling about whatever the heck she just saw. Beelzebub moved to her side and tried to comfort her. Satan then moved to stand between the pair and Lucifer, still holding Metatron in place by the spear embedded in the angel's stomach.
"What just happened?!" Lucifer demanded, "The crown is supposed to bestow power upon its chosen! That's how God designed it!"
Metatron managed a chuckle as she sneered at her foe. "Oh, you poor little thing. You must have hit your head on your fall from grace. Don't you remember that the crown chooses its wielder?"
"And it did! It chose her! She's the only one who could sense it!"
Now Metatron laughed, heedless of the lustrous blood leaking out of the corner of her mouth. "And doesn't the term 'siren song' mean anything to you? You think she's the first prowler who's craved such a priceless item? It lures in those unworthy before torturing them!"
Lucifer looked back to see that Mammon had to be held up by Satan and Beelzebub, crying hysterically and begging for mercy. She kept apologizing over and over, swearing it was all an accident. It even made the fallen angel wince until something else grabbed her. Metatron forced their eyes to meet as one gloved hand grabbed hold of the spear's shaft.
"You never knew when to quit, Lucifer. I'd have thought being thrown into Hell in utter disgrace might have finally blown that ego of yours but I suppose not. But I'm not Michael, I don't think you're hopeless. All you need is the right treatment…"
The hand on Lucifer's weapon yanked upwards, the metal curling and snapping under her grasp. Metatron then placed a hand over her gaping wound, a flash of light causing it to quickly close and then rapidly healing all of the external damage.
Lucifer flinched back, giving Metatron the time she needed to summon a syringe and throw it with expert precision directly at the demoness's neck. As soon as the needle lodged in her skin, the pump pushed down and the vial's clear liquid contents were inside Lucifer's body.
"Uh oh…" she gulped right before every nerve in her body seized up in an instant. She fell out of the sky but the thud she made on the ground was nothing compared to the pain shooting through her every fiber. Her teeth were locked into an agonizing grit and her eyes were pinpricks as tears poured forth.
Metatron, on the other hand, looked downright gleeful as she floated down to see Lucifer's stricken form. Her mouth curled up in a devious smirk that could make lesser demons flee, an extra sway in her step before towering over the prideful blonde.
"Aww, don't be too sad, Lucy… That fall was maybe a thousandth the height you fell from God's grace. Just sit tight and let my medicine go through you…"
"Screw… You…" the demon bit only to gasp as Metatron's hand wrapped around her throat.
As Mammon was set to rest on the floor by the other Sins, the other two watched as Metatron licked her lips at the sight of Lucifer spasmed in her grasp.
"So defiant, I like that… Seeing the will drain out of your eyes… Watching your complexion pale as you become drenched in sweat, your body trying to stop the infection… All in vain. Your voice will break like your mind until you'll wish for euthanasia…"
"This is wrong on so many levels…" Beelzebub mumbled, terrified by the sheer lust in the angel's eyes as she watched the fearless fallen angel twitch and convulse like she was in the middle of a seizure. Satan, though deeply disturbed, kept her resolve.
"Alright, we need to bombard her so much that she can't use those needles. Bub, arm yourself!"
The gluttonous demon morphed both her arms into meat cleavers before charging in with Satan right behind her. Metatron was so distracted by Lucifer's pain that she could only barely react to the blades swinging for her neck. The bluenette summoned her massive scalpel again but this time the ferocity of the demon duo kept her guessing.
It got to the point where the three were deadlocked, the angel only just holding the pair back. That changed when Beelzebub took in a deep breath and released a massive gust of flame that scorched the angel's face. She howled in agony before Satan followed up with a rib-crushing kick to the torso and then firing a blast of energy point-blank to send Metatron into a pile of gold that collapsed on top of her.
"Phew, that ought to keep her down…" Beelzebub sighed. She first turned over to Lucifer, the blonde immobile save for her wild gyrating eyes.
"Goodness, she's really out of it…"
"That's Metatron 'medicine,'" Satan bit, "If used on a human, it apparently will cure any disease or ailment they have. The problem is that it causes all-consuming pain that drives a person insane. Or it overwhelms their body so much that they have fatal heart attacks."
"Some angel she is…"
"Lucifer will be fine. She should be hearty enough to survive the process. I'm more worried about Mammon."
They both looked to see the greedy demoness was now sitting down, dried tears caking her face while her eyes were still staring into the distance. It took Satan kneeling down for her to even register anything.
"Oh, I'm sorry you both had to see that…" the blonde muttered, quaking like a leaf as she stood. She turned to see the crown lying on the floor, paling at the sight of it.
"What did that thing do to you?" Bub asked. Mammon opened her mouth to answer only to be knocked to the ground by Satan. The blue-haired glutton was about to ask why every muscle of hers locked up. Every nerve suddenly burned like dry ice before she collapsed to the ground.
The two Sins turned to see Metatron, one hand healing the third-degree burns rippling across her face while the other was still outstretched from the throw. They could make out the demented grin on the angel's face before her healing magic fixed everything. She strutted forward, the hole in her chest casually stitching itself back together.
"You've got to be kidding…"
"Damn, she just won't stay down."
"I've never tried curing a demon before," she casually noted, as if discussing yesterday's weather, "I wonder if my medicine will purge the impurity out of her before it kills her."
Satan, naturally, took the thought of Beelzebub dying to heart. Her power suddenly flooded the room, mountains of money crumbling around her as she let loose an earthquake that could break the Richter scale before rushing at Metatron with the intent to kill of an entire wolf pack. Metatron stood still and waited, another syringe already in hand.
Right before the wave of wrath could crash into her, the angel leapt aside and tossed the poisonous panacea right into Satan's neck. Her entire body ground to a halt as she crumpled onto the floor, all her power gone in a flash.
Mammon watched all of this, paralyzed even though she was the only one untouched by Metatron's medicine. The angel paid her no mind, instead going over towards Satan and running a hand over her quivering muscles with a gaze that would make Asmodeus feel dirty.
"Mmm, the irony… Look at you, the mad dog of Hell whimpering in pain like a kicked puppy. No battle cries? No proclamation of how you'll kill me? Instead, you're just gonna beg and plead for mercy…"
Satan wanted to lash out and rip her apart, only to wince as Metatron's hands started moving all over her body. Now the redhead just wanted her space back but all she could do was spasm and try not to vomit.
And Mammon, her feet only barely working, tried to intervene as the angel brought her face inches away from Satan's.
"Mmmm…" the angel moaned, "The things I want to do to you… I can make you feel so good, better than that pink-haired harlot ever could…"
"Leave her alone!"
Metatron whirled around to see her demonic opposite slowly walking over, stepping around a spasming Lucifer. The angel hopped to her feet even as her hand lingered on Satan's chin.
"And just what are you going to do? Throw up all over yourself?"
"You call yourself an angel? Treating people like that?! Shouldn't you be out healing sick children?"
The cotton-candy haired saint laughed that off. "Oh you silly little cretin, you don't count as people! All you are is a rat fat off of other's gullibility. You and all your devil friends feed off of people's weaknesses, sucking them dry and then just abandoning them."
Mammon tried to retort but that proved pretty hard with the fist in her gut. She doubled over as Metatron's knuckles dug into her spleen, then the angel's other hand closed around her neck. Those dainty fingers quickly started squeezing the air out of her, Mammon's vision turning black.
"I could just inject you now, have my way with you until you beg for death's release," Metatron taunted, "Buuuuut, no. You deserve something special. As the antithesis of everything I stand for, you'll get a special end."
Mammon was dropped on the ground like a sack of bricks. She got a few breaths in before Metatron placed a hand on her forehead. The massive vault turned to black, the mounds of money disintegrating to nothing until only the two of them remained. Then, bit by bit, a new scene took over plucked straight from the demon's memory.
A rugged wooden floor, the planks uneven yet freshly swept. The walls were crammed with shelves of roots, berries, leaves, animal pelts and organs and powders of nearly every color of the rainbow. The ceiling was thatched straw held up with wooden beams, the air thick with steam that smelled of a dozen herbs.
Mammon felt her heart clench in her ribcage. She knew this house. It often popped up in her nightmares.
The front door suddenly opened, a dark-skinned woman drenched in shawls leaving only her wrinkled hands and fraught face visible.
"Hello? Healer, are you here?"
Out from a separate room towards the back came a brown-haired woman wearing a pristine white robe. Her hair draped her shoulders as she moved to the massive iron cauldron in the center of the room. She then moved to the wall shelves, not even looking at the beseeching lady.
"Yes, dear? What is it you seek?"
"It is my daughter-in-law. She is due in days, but she grows frail and pallid."
"Say no more. You need my specialty, yes?"
The shawl-covered woman almost broke her neck nodding so fast, the alchemist moving back to her cauldron with several jars. None of them were labeled, the glass clinked with each step, but she moved with complete confidence from years of experience. She added a sprinkle of this, a dollop of that, and soon the murky mixture started to become a pleasing orange like a vibrant sunset.
"And your payment?"
"We are… Very poor, herbalist. Silver is tough to come by…"
"Then you are in luck. Bartering is welcome here. Livestock, food, water, nearly anything can suffice."
The customer paused for a moment before noticing one particular jar on the wall. "You use flowers?"
"In perfumes and scrubs mostly, but yes. Are you a florist?"
"Third generation! Name a plant you require and it shall be yours!"
The woman behind the cauldron gave a smile as warm and inviting as the potion she was mixing before laying out some specific plants she was in the market for. The lady, all too grateful for the help, didn't seem to notice how the nice, sweet alchemist wanted a few poisonous bulbs like oleander in addition to some common houseplants.
"Some great healer you were," Metatron said with a snort, "Helping only those who can provide for you. How many lives ended up lost because you turned them away?"
With a voice as fragile as sugar glass, Mammon tried to defend herself. "I… I wanted to help people…"
"At the benefit of your own interests, hm? Known far and wide as a miracle worker who could brew a cure for anything from hair loss to indigestion or the innumerable 'curses' that befell people in a time before anything resembling modern medicine existed. Just think if you shared your recipes with the world. Penicillin could have come centuries earlier with your knowledge…"
Mammon shook under every word, her eyes desperately scanning the empty cottage for any way out. Unfortunately, she caught sight of something else.
Beelzebub, Satan and Lucifer were all watching this, as three translucent spirits while their quivering bodies were nowhere to be seen. The other three Sins all looked shocked at the sight of Mammon's human self and clearly heard every word of their conversation. Mammon's voice came back, along with bright red cheeks and teary eyes.
"Really?! You have to show them all this?! What does that accomplish?!"
"Just showing them all the monster in their midst. But, oh dear, I know you had a particular specialty in this little shop of yours, but I can't remember what it was. Care to refresh my memory?"
The feudal world around them started up again as Mammon was now in her back room. She had a smaller iron pot filled with a clear concoction that seemed to sparkle when under the sunlight from the back room's only window. The apothecarist carefully moved the clear brew to glass vials, stopped them with corks and then held up the bottle to the light. She carefully studied how it reacted to the light before nodding in approval and setting it on a wooden rack with dozens of others just like it.
The image then flashed forward, showing Mammon riding in the back of a horse-drawn carriage as it trundled down well-trodden dirt paths into a rugged little village. The people were all dressed in roughly sewn garments, covered in dirt from tending their farms, but looked upon that carriage like their savior had arrived.
Once the door opened, the herbalist revealed that her cloak was lined with vials of the transparent fluid. Each villager took it as though it was the most precious thing imaginable before shoving tools, food and plenty of reagents into a wooden trunk she brought with her. The peasants all chanted about good tidings once they gave birth to their sons, about how their wives would live a long life into motherhood, and the local midwifes heralding Mammon as a gift from God Himself.
"A potion that guarantees a safe childbirth, no matter the complications or health of the parent…" Mammon muttered.
"Still know the ingredients after all this time, don't you?"
Metatron grabbed a staggering Mammon by the shoulder, clasped the demon's arms to her back, and forced her down onto her knees as the scenery changed again. It was back to the cottage but now well into the night, the room pitch dark save for the gentle fire underneath the cauldron. A hooded Mammon moved through the dimly lit room without an issue, moving to the walls to sort through the ingredients.
Then, in a gust of rushing wind, the door flew open. Mammon turned to see a man in a bright red outfit stumble inside, a plumed hat on his sweating head, gasping for breath.
"Pardon me, madam, are you the famed herbalist? The one who can supposedly cure anything?"
She gave a soft chuckle. "That's quite a piece of flattery, good sir. What can I do for a man of your stature?"
He shoved a roll of parchment in her hands and literally dropped to his knees. Apparently the queen of the land was having a horrendous pregnancy, growing weaker by the day to the point where can barely hold down food. All of the royal doctors and clerics can do nothing to heal her. It was only through a story the king had overheard from the servant's quarters that he learned of an apothecary who could brew just the thing to help.
And, of course, healing the queen and assuring the king's heir would be safely delivered would mean a lavish reward. Mammon all but threw the herald out, swearing on her life that the queen would be perfectly fine by this time tomorrow.
Time began to speed by, the morning sun racing up to display how Mammon feverishly worked to make a fresh batch of her most famous commodity. After all, only the highest quality would do in this case. But even with the dilation, Lucifer noticed that the pharmacist wasn't doing well. She threw ingredients in with abandon, furiously stirring like she was trying to mix cement with her bare hands.
All of them, however, noticed the expression on her face. Throughout the whole process, the woman seemed to be daydreaming. She barely even looked at her work, too busy humming in delight.
Metatron, still holding her demonic opposite in place, tittered in amusement. "Quite the mover and shaker you were, hm? What were planning on doing back then?"
"B-Being the queen's personal doctor," the demon stumbled, fresh tears welling up, "I-I lived in this backwater village my whole life. I wanted a room at the castle, my own staff, an entire workshop to myself…"
"And all the gold that would come with it, yes? How distracting, all these fanciful thoughts…"
The past kept playing on fast forward until Mammon was shepherded out the door by the same herald, now bringing an ornate horse-drawn carriage to escort Mammon to the ailing queen. The ride passed in minutes, the future figures of Heaven and Hell being whisked along. They were led past a towering wooden drawbridge into a massive stone fortress, knights patrolling outside and paying the carriage no mind.
Soon, the Sins and Metatron were inside a lavishly decorated bedroom. There under the finest silks this kingdom could offer was a young, dark-haired matriarch no older than twenty-five. Though her stomach was swollen in the final trimester of giving birth, she was on death's door. Her face was as pale as the rainy twilight outside, barely breathing.
The hopeful apothecary bowed before the king keeping vigil next to his wife, swearing fealty to him and assuring that his son would be born in perfect health. She presented a vial of her brew but all of them saw it. The sickly gray color, the viscosity of gruel that so many ate at this time.
Mammon watched her own past play out with gritted teeth and sorrow, her underworld cohorts in various states of shock. Beelzebub tried to call out, begging the queen to not take it, but of course they didn't hear her. Satan placed a hand on her friend's shoulder while Lucifer glared at the angel. She was damn lucky her body was still in critical condition.
Metatron, meanwhile, was wiggling in anticipation, almost clenching her legs together as the king emptied the vial down his withering wife's throat. The instant the concoction touched her tongue, her back lurched and she began to cough. The legions of handmaidens and guards around the bed all jumped, having not seen their queen move in days.
The king held his breath, finally staring into her eyes again, only for the coughs to grow more violent and sullied with blood. Soon she began to wretch, her stomach gurgling in agony as the misbrewed potion boiled inside her.
"What the?!" past Mammon gasped, "This cannot be! I've made this potion a hundred times!"
The current version shook in sorrow, her own stomach threatening to blow as fresh stabs of guilt pierced her heart. "I… I just wanted to help… I'm so sorry…"
"Oh, the irony!" Metatron swooned, pushing Mammon to the ground before grinding a heel into the demon's back, "So swept away by your greed and ambition that your potion turned to poison!"
"Lay off of her already!" Lucifer shouted, "We get it, she messed up!"
"But wait, it gets better!"
The king, naturally, demanded that the saboteur who just fed his wife a liquid be thrown in their dungeons to be beheaded later. The apothecary's last plea was to the unborn child, insisting that she would fix her mistake at no extra charge, before the heavy wooden door slammed shut. But on the other side, the otherworldly watchers were back in the cottage. The healer was thrown onto the floor, stark naked and covered in scars and gashes.
Behind her came a team of knights, sweeping their swords along the shelves to smash her jars and splatter her ingredients all over the floor. They tipped over her cauldron, spilling whatever potion was inside and then moving to the back to take anything of value before leaving the witch to her fate.
They stormed back out the door, holding that same wooden trunk now stuffed with every piece of currency that Mammon had. All of them filed out save for one, his helmeted face gazing down at Mammon as she pled again for forgiveness.
"Our queen is dead thanks to you," he said with ice in his breath, "Her and our only prince, sent to our lord before their time."
The knight unsheathed his sword, the iron gleaming in the subtle light of the fire that was once under Mammon's cauldron. She soon screamed in pain as the metal was driven through her torso and down into the floorboards.
"Taste the fires of Hell, you witch."
He then fled outside before a burning torch was lobbed into the house. The great healer could only watch as the flames licked the floorboards before quickly spreading. She screamed herself hoarse as she was burned alive, all while a crowd of commoners cheered that the vile villainess who murdered their beloved ruler would be reunited with her devilish master once again.
As Mammon shivered on the ground, desperately clutching herself as the phantom burns still stung her skin, the angel laughed her head off at the entire thing like this was the most brilliant comedy ever made.
"And you call yourself anything other than a monster! You fantasized so much over that reward that you killed a woman AND her unborn child!"
The blonde tried to rise from the floor but Metatron planted a firm boot to her back as she brandished another syringe. Mammon's eyes darted to the other three Sins but all of them were still paralyzed. She actually took that as a positive. It meant they weren't dead yet.
Metatron, however, was far more concerned with planting the needle directly in the back of her opposition's neck. She slowly brought her hand down, relishing the exposed skin afforded by Mammon's bodice and skirt. Right before the cold metal touched her skin, the angel whispered one last taunt.
"Consider this a mercy, you trollop. You deserve far worse than this."
Mammon's eyes nearly went white as the needle pierced her skin, down into her vein as liquid ice entered her body. Her spine went ramrod straight as her limbs curled before a boiling heat threatened to make her stomach erupt. She wanted to scream as her throat shut down, to cry as her eyeballs began jittering like pinballs, and to beg for help as conscious thought became impossible.
And with all four of the Sins indisposed, Metatron breezily stepped around the twitching demons to pick up the Crown of Caritas. She might have to move the vault but that would be Michael's problem. All she had to do now was report back upstairs and vouch that the other Mortal Sins be hunted down along with their accomplices.
Metatron looked at her reflection in the headdress's gleaming surface, a satisfied smirk staring back at her. She turned around to leave the underworld ilk to their fate, figuring her medicine would either drive them so mad their minds would shut down or just kill them. A win-win in her books.
Mammon, however, would beg to differ as she lurched and croaked in agony. Her mind raced like a lightning bolt, jolting from snippet of thought to unfinished sentence. She tried to do anything besides wriggle like a dying fish but even that was beyond her. What tiny thoughts she could muster were little more than asking for mercy and trying to alert the other Sins. All she knew was that this couldn't be the end! What about the rest of the world, her friends, Maria, Salem, her children…
Her fist clenched. The lone rational part of her brain left working tried it again. Her children…
Her eyes focused, just for a second. She caught Metatron walking away with the crown. She tried picturing her children…
"N-No…" she growled, every fiber screaming at her to shut up but she couldn't.
"Hm?" Metatron mused, turning around. She looked around, sure it was just a piece of change clattering somewhere. Then she spotted Mammon, the twitching slowing down. Bit by bit she was regaining control, the angel sighing. Of course, she couldn't just die quietly.
The angel rolled her eyes, acting like she was about to discipline a rowdy child as she waltzed back over to Mammon just as the blonde was starting to lift herself on her arms. Her elbows rattled like maracas and her face was matter with sweat.
"What do you think you're doing?"
"Getting your attention."
"Well, congratulations, you have it. And you're officially wasting my time."
"Just answer me one question," Mammon bit, "What will happen… to my children?"
Metatron's brow creased. "What are you talking about? You don't have children."
The demoness let out a chuckle that quickly became a bloody cough. "Oh yes I do. More than you could imagine. What will you do to them?"
"I'm positive that you don't-"
"I have 500,000 of them."
Her hand lashed out and grabbed onto the angel's boot, every word laced with malice. "I have cared for them… My entire afterlife. They are my responsibility… The reason I do everything…"
That made the gears start to turn in Metatron's head, recalling the exact sentencing of the avaricious sinner ages ago. Her smile turned foul again.
"Oooh, those children! Yes, I suppose if you're incapacitated, we would need to find them a more suitable home, hm?"
Mammon managed to get a knee under her as Metatron placed a hand under her chin and looked like she was thinking as hard as possible.
"Well, we obviously can't just leave them in your cohorts' care. It'd be cruel to assign them new guardians who aren't long to live themselves. Oh, I have a brilliant idea!"
Metatron kicked the demoness back down, leaving Mammon sprawled on her back as she proclaimed, "Me and the other Virtues will split the workload, becoming their new mothers! Oh, it'll be just perfect! We can mold them into scions of our traits, then have them assigned to people to curb their vices! I can just see it now, I'll have a hundred maternity wards filled with my little disciples, all of them perfectly obedient!"
And as Metatron went on, already throwing around names to give them and how to divvy them up like they were trading cards, Mammon could feel it. The unholy anger of a mother watching her children being threatened, overwhelming the saintly tonic in her system. She got to her feet. They shook underneath but it was what she needed. Her breath came out through her nose like an enraged bull, her fingers curled like they were already wrapped around Metatron's throat.
With each word about how Metatron would treat her children, already claiming them as her property, Mammon stalked closer. Her teeth fully bared, her eyes trying to burn a hole through the fiend that dared to come between her and her little ones.
"Eh, we can deal with any dissenters later," Metatron shrugged, completely missing the very obvious threat, "When we have that many, we can spare a few thousands.
"OVER MY DEAD BODY!"
Metatron's head whipped around, her cheek exploding in pain thanks to the fist buried in it. Then a knee to the stomach forced her lungs empty, an elbow to the back of her neck made her choke. She desperately threw out her free hand to force the attacked back only for that arm to get wrenched to the side.
Mammon then grabbed ahold of one massive pigtail to and spun around with all the force she could, turning Metatron into a multicolored blur before sending the angel flying into a mountain of gold. It didn't matter that her arms burned or blood dripped from her mouth, the demoness charged ahead with a banshee-worthy shriek.
As the angel rose from her crash, she was still stuck on what was going on. What the hell just hit her? That's when the shout hit her ears. Metatron saw Mammon charging right at her, every movement stilted and forced, like a puppet that just had its strings cut.
The angel had never been so scared. Mammon was shot, her holy medicine flowing in the blackheart's veins. How was she even able to move?! She would have ruminated on this if Mammon hadn't reached into her cleavage and pulled out a random collection of vials. They all flew at the charitable cherub and she, still flummoxed at how any of this was even happening, ended up hit.
And it turns out that all six of those vials were filled with nitroglycerin. While none of them hit her directly, half a dozen shockwaves ripped over her from all directions. She collapsed in pain as almost every bone was broken from the concussive force and a good chunk of her skin was ripped off by flying shrapnel.
As Metatron to the floor in a screaming heap of pain, the only thing she could do was hold onto the crown. She clutched the precious headpiece close to her body as her skin and bones rapidly mended, but the process was taking longer. She was running out of steam and fast.
"You'll pay for this…" she writhed, "I'll wipe you, all your friends, and all your putrid spawn from the face of the Earth…"
"Don't count on it," Mammon breathed heavily, "Now give me that crown or else I'll pull out my most dangerous stock."
That made the angel gape in fear. What the hell was worse than a bottle full of nitro?! She needed to do something right now. If her medicine had somehow failed then she needed some way to even the playing field.
Her fingers wrapped around the crown. Her eyes lit up in excitement. Of course, this was perfect! She wouldn't try to take the crown, just use it for the less than one minute it would take to dispatch this shrew and then clean all of this up later.
"Oh, you want dangerous?" she whispered eagerly, "I'll give you something dangerous, you cancerous little-!"
The crown touched her head, sitting atop her blue and pink locks. For a moment, she could feel its incredible magic flow into her and even heal off the last of the blast injuries…
"YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!"
Before squealing in agony as nightmarish pain shot through her every fiber, the crown clanking away as she tried to remember how to breathe. What?! Was?! That?! How did the crown reject her?! She's the thing's guardian! If anyone should be able to use it, it should be her!
But Mammon, having watched all this, was frozen. The crown didn't let Metatron wear it? Even she didn't see how that could work. She began to slump, her every nerve aching from the angel's accursed shot. The crown ended up rolling right next to her feet. She scoffed. Sure, now she could totally wear the thing…
"Unless…"
Having created more contracts than most people could count, Mammon was the expert of "exact words." And she remembered what Lucifer had told her and Metatron tried to hold over her. The crown chooses its wielder.
She knelt down, even that small movement making her bones protest, but she still placed her hands on the heavenly crown. She could still feel its energy radiating off the surface, its jewels almost glimmering like stars. Mammon could see her stunned face staring back at her in the ruby on top.
"For my children…" she swore before placing the crown on her head, horrified that the same stabbing shock would hit again. Instead, the headpiece grew even brighter. Mammon's body alighted like sunrays were coursing through her. Her eyes turned to solid gold as the crown flooded her with power beyond what she ever imagined.
"WHAT?!" Metatron screeched, "That can't be! It should be destroying her!"
But Mammon didn't hear her. All of the pain and sluggishness was being replaced with pure energy, enough to climb to heaven itself.
"At long last, a worthy soul…" an ethereal voice spoke through the vault, "How ironic, such selflessness from a demon."
"Y-You accept me? But I-"
"There is little more charitable than a mother protecting her young. You have earned the right to wield this power for as long it is used for the betterment of the world."
And from there, the light faded to reveal Mammon. The crown was gone, fully absorbed into her body as a serene breeze seemed to flutter around her. She slowly strolled up to Metatron, the angel wobbling on her feet.
"Y-You can't have taken the crown's power! It would never accept a-!"
"Metatron?"
The angel's mouth clicked shut. "Yes?"
"Did you mean what you said? About taking my children away from me?"
"Y-Yes?"
The mother then tilted her head to the side, her eyes closed as a titter rang out. Metatron suddenly felt a cold sweat coming on.
"Oh. Good to know."
Mammon thrust both her hands forward, a sudden wave of wind blowing Metatron hundreds of feet away and rolling over into a heap once she finally stopped. As the angel stood up, the coins and bills around them rattled and flew into the air as a roaring gust began to sweep through. Mammon lifted herself off the ground, all of this new wind swirling around her.
(Cue Epic Theme Song: Moonstruck Blossom from Kirby Triple Deluxe)
"Now I'm going to make absolutely sure that you never, EVER, come near my family ever again."
There was no shouting, no spitting hate in her words and yet Metatron felt utter dread. The wind roared louder, the treasure becoming swept up in a cyclone with the blonde demon as its eye. With a wave of her arms, a wall of air rushed out to smashed Metatron into the pile of treasure behind her.
As if that wasn't enough for her, Mammon them made a gust blow in from the back of the pile juuuuust enough to make it so several tons of gold and gems collapsed on top of Metatron before she got up.
"Okay, while the trash is indisposed," Mammon mused, turning back to the still petrified Sins, "Now to fix up all of you…"
She decided to head over to Beelzebub first, rushing over to the glutton's side and placing a hand on Bub's head. The pour darling was shivering like a leaf as her forehead burned with a horrible fever.
"Oh dear… This really is serious. It's like a virus attacking her entire nervous system. I'd need hours to devise a cure for that…"
Just as she realized that, the heap of treasure behind her reared up like a wave as a snarling angel ran out to attack Mammon again. The blonde just smiled. Anyone who uses a poison is bound to have the antidote on them somewhere.
Metatron rushed ahead like a rabid animal, chucking more syringes filled with her malicious medicine. Mammon just shoved her hand forward, a column of wind knocking them all aside so she could fly forward and sock the rampaging angel again. This time her fist crashed into the saint's kidneys. Metatron wheezed in pain before something splashed across the back of her neck.
She quickly howled in pain as her skin sizzled and leapt back. She felt back there and winced as the burning spread to her fingers.
"A little sulfuric acid," Mammon commented, "Just a little incentive. Cure my friends or the next one will go down your throat."
"Y-You wouldn't…"
Mammon then sent her heeled boot directly between the angel's legs, making her yelp in pain.
"The things I wouldn't do to you is very short," she said cheerfully, "Now hurry up or do I need something more pleasant? Like arsenic, mercury, carcinoma…"
"Okay, okay, just stop!"
"Then where is the antidote?"
"In the heel of my left boot!"
Mammon let the angel flop to the floor as she yanked off the massive white footwear and found that the heel did unscrew to reveal several vials of bright yellow liquid. She then thanked Metatron for the antidote before using her new command of the wind to summon a massive gust that sent the angel rolling across the ground for hundreds of feet while Mammon cured her friends.
First, however, she popped the cork of the vial and took a sniff of the cure herself. With her centuries of herbology and pharmacology experience, she could tell the ingredients by scent and the viscosity of the liquid alone. The only part she couldn't figure out is where she would get angel blood.
"Oh, wait, I know!" she thought cheerfully, "I'll just a sample from her. That ought to be sufficient… payment for her threatening my children."
With that to look forward to, Mammon moved over to Lucifer and gently poured one of the vials of golden liquid down her throat. The antidote worked in a matter of seconds, the prideful demon regaining control of her body as the horrible pain fled.
"Thanks," she croaked, "Hold off Metatron until we can escape. Get creative."
"Why, dear leader, that happens to be my specialty."
Beelzebub and Satan were healed in short order and hustled out of the vault as fast as possible, leaving only Mammon around when Metatron soared into the air.
"You despicable wretch!" she cried, "I don't know how you perverted one of our artifacts, but I'll make you regret it!"
"Oh, good. You're not finished yet." Mammon calmly lifted herself to the angel's height, unblinking even as the latter summoned her giant scalpel. The blonde casually flew aside the first stab, the wind curling around her body to knock Metatron off balance. The pattern kept repeating with the nurse failing to land a hit and the entrepreneur's new control of the air repaying every attempt. Each smack of wind felt like a punch directly to her face, only making her more and more enraged.
"JUST DIE ALREADY!" Finally at her wit's end, Metatron's giant surgical tool lunged forward and stopped dead. A vicious grin lit up her face. Finally, she could gut this disembowel her…
Then she looked down and Metatron's skin turned paler than the white on her outfit. Mammon's hand was wrapped around the steel tip, gently holding it back with the barest effort.
"I know your specialty is physical ailments," Mammon comment, casually shattering the weapon with one hand, "But I would suggest reading this tome called the DSM. You could use a diagnosis of your own, in my humble opinion."
Metatron knew a place her adversary could stick that book but she was yanked by the hair, pulled only inches away from Mammon's face. All that gentle chiding and poise from before was gone. The beautiful blonde's face was etched in ice cold fury, green eyes glaring through her as her other hand rested on the base of her spine.
"And if you know what's good for you, you will never come near me, the Mortal Sins, and especially my precious children ever again. If you do, even if God Himself has ordered you, I will personally concoct a potion that will make that little cough syrup of yours look like chocolate milk. It will eat you alive from the inside out, melt your organs and freeze your ichor, and it will be contagious. The other virtues could try for a millennium and never even start to formulate a cure. And the worst part?"
A deafening hurricane suddenly emerged, gems and coins being tossed around like rubble. The entire vault became a cyclone, thousands of pounds of precious goods circling Mammon. Metatron felt the urge to vomit but didn't dare. The last thing she needed was a reason to make Mammon even angrier as the demon leaned in to whisper.
"It won't kill you. Your healing factor will be just enough to save you. You can't age, you'll never heal and even your own brew won't help. All you'll be able to do is plead from the god who will abandon your worthless husk or come crawling back to me."
And just like that, the wind froze. The mounds of treasure fell all around them, clattering to the featureless white floor in seconds but none of it touched the two. Mammon let her go but Metatron couldn't move. Her legs seized up, her own mouth wouldn't cooperate with her mind racing at a mile a minute.
"Oh, actually," Mammon piped up, "I should also take one more thing…"
Metatron wanted to speak only for the demon's arm to lash out and a sharp, piercing wind rushed out. The angel barely blinked and soon her arm exploded in pain before losing feeling entirely. Metatron shivered in horror as her own arm thudded to the ground, bright gold ichor rushing out of the stump that now was an empty shoulder.
"That fallen angel bitch is going to pay for this…" Metatron thought right before blacking out from the pain and teleporting back to Heaven.
Mammon, however, simply picked up the severed arm and used her magic to transport it back to her main workshop. Now she had a steady supply of ichor and a chance to crack Metatron's incredible self-healing. And as the angel just sat there, thoroughly traumatized, Mammon showed herself the door. She walked right past the oodles of treasure, content that she got the real prize at the end of the day.
Notes:
And that makes another of the artifacts nabbed, and an angel spanked to boot! With all of that out of the way, let's take things easy next time and see how the other's training wrapped up. Until then!
Thank you all so much for reading! Feel free to leave questions or comments below.