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With This Ring (Young Justice SI) (Thread Fourteen)

Really depends on how much Zoat is following the comics storyline.

Indigo arrived damaged, was repaired, displayed a cute personality, and became Shift's (a budding of Metamorpho) girlfriend.

Except it turns out the cute personality is a sleeper agent subroutine for Brainiac 8 and her real personality is more "You will all die screaming you ugly bags of mostly water and then I'll wipe out all life on this pathetic planet." She was also sent, Terminator style, to assassinate Donna Troi because she was supposed to be instrumental to some future defeat.

However, in the comics, Indigo was far far less damaged, she certainly wasn't EMPed and missing half her brain, so Zoat has already changed that storyline.
 
However, in the comics, Indigo was far far less damaged, she certainly wasn't EMPed and missing half her brain, so Zoat has already changed that storyline.
Those things shouldn't matter.

By even just Brainiac 6 it was functionally impossible to remove Brainiac code via hardware damage. Vaporize the synthetic DNA, fry every circuit analog in it's body. There's still a better than average chance if you hook the remains up to a working computer that the code will begin rebuilding itself. And a working chunk of brain is a lot more than that.
 
That should say 'of'.
Thank you, corrected.
Did Tangseid give Indigo her canonical outfit?
Pretty close to the most minimalistic version she ever wore. I'd have linked to a picture if I could find a good one.
Unless that's on purpose, that should say 'Eight'.
That's on purpose. The left side of her brain dimly remembers that it's part of something 8, but the right remembers Dad singing the rainbow song.
You're not going to hold onto that philosophy.
That;'s not exactly true.
Thank you, corrected.
Billy Batson / The Captain. They still have Mary / Miss Marvel show up so presumably they still want to avoid the character sharing a name with one of Marvel's most popular characters.
No, sorry, 'The Captain' is still a fail.
 
That's on purpose. The left side of her brain dimly remembers that it's part of something 8, but the right remembers Dad singing the rainbow song.
So another author ex machina to keep Tangseid on track.

Fun...

You know, at this point I thank Tamgseids true power is plot armor stronger then the protagonist of a Robert Jordan novel. :p
 
I think he's playing second edition, and IIRC, Grey Knights were introduced in 5th and Custodes were introduced in 7th. Could be off on those numbers; point is I'm pretty sure those weren't playable armies.
Grey Knights were in 2nd. Five-man terminator squads with nemesis force halberds with stormbolters on the haft.
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Hellish Content (part 15)
Day 21
27th March 2013
21:44 GMT

"You're right."

Bruce nods, a display of the discrepancies visible on the main screen of his computer. Which is not called 'the bat computer', or any variation thereof. He was quite clear about that, and appeared to genuinely not know what I was talking about the first time I used that name. It's a bit like how the batmobile was named as such by Richard, and before that was 'officially' just called 'the car'.

It just goes to show that if that bat hadn't flown through the window on his first night out, he genuinely would have bled to death. Naming things is not Bruce's forte.

"Colin Thornton has been importing raw materials far in excess of his company's use of them. I wasn't able to determine what he is using them for."

I nod solemnly as he turns away from the screen and towards me.

"Do you intend to tell me what you know?"

"Regrettably, I am bound not to for the next nine days. Of course, should you choose to investigate on your own recognisance, that would be your affair."

"And after nine days?"

I wave my right hand dismissively. "On the off-chance that it's still an issue, I can tell you then."

So long as I don't personally profit from it, at least. But we made sure to draft the contract in such a way that the First couldn't just show me everything in order to prevent me doing anything about any of it forever.

Thing is, in terms of efficiency…

Simpson got stamped on for disrupting the market contrary to the interests of the market leader. Or 'dominant market player' at least. But, he got picked up by another senior demon and is working for him, which isn't as efficient as a pure free market where demons can choose between flesh modifications and mechanical ones, but it does indicate that his talents aren't just being wasted. And things might change in his favour in the longer term, as Satanus meets with more success and others are forced to reconsider their own methods.

But…

Satanus is sitting pretty on Earth and in Purgatory. Which means that the rest of Hell won't even see what he's using. So there's that. The Renderers didn't even make Simpson an offer, which suggests that demon hiring practices are sub-mafiosi. It's unlikely to just be Simpson who suffered that sort of treatment, he's just the one I know about. If-.

"Do I need to investigate within the next nine days?"

"If you're asking me if a person like me would advise a person like you that a person like Mister Thornton should be investigated rapidly, I suspect that person would say 'no'. However, since such advice would come before an in-depth investigation, it would be impossible to say for certain that it wasn't necessary."

"I see. Is there anything else?"

"No, thank you." Hm. Bruce and I don't meet up too often. Is there anything I need to check..? "Director Armstrong not making too much of a nuisance of herself so far?"

"She threatened to instruct child services to investigate my treatment of Robin."

I bite my lip, then look up at the ceiling.

"Since she can't touch the Justice League directly, she intends to target our associates. Our families."

"Batman, I'm sure that you had your reasons. But I wouldn't dream of getting my children involved in-."

"Darfur."

"Sunset and Misa were both older, and Lynne didn't have to go anywhere near the actual fighting. And she's a lot more resilient than Richard is. I wouldn't have given that task to my younger children, and you'll note that I haven't done anything like that again." I shake my head. "Look, Richard is sixteen. They can't take him away from you now because he can just manumit himself-."

"Emancipate himself."

"And come back on his own. And… Frankly, yeah. I'm not keen on people Richard's age doing fieldwork. Yes, I've heard your explanations, all our missions ballooned out of control and half the time it was because of something we did, and Richard needed something to focus on other than hunting Anthony Zucco down and brutally murdering him… But I still don't think that it was the right decision."

"Robin and I do."

"Child services won't." I shrug. "The best way to avoid blackmail is to either not have anything that can be used to blackmail you, or to not care. Armstrong's probably going to do something stupid before too long, get herself in over her head." I smile broadly. "Personally, I find the idea of Bruce Wayne being appointed to the Directorship hilarious. That is the sort of thing politicians give to their donors, isn't it?"

He considers it. Briefly.

"I wouldn't have the time."

"Then you could try finding someone else. As I said, she's too aggressive to avoid making a mess of things eventually. And she hates it when her attempts at hardball don't work. I'd just ask you not to set her off for a couple of years. Having her fight the other alphabet agencies for territory is ensuring that the D.M.A. will last, and we do sort of need it."

"Mm."

"Well, thank you again. I'll leave you to it. Mother Box, hush tube."

"Ping."

I step through the tube, back into Gull. Well away from the debris of Neron's tantrum and into the realm of the upper class merchants. A thin and pointy-looking demon who puts me a little in mind of a Muppet in general appearance sniffs at me.

"Does sir have an appointment?"

"Sir has a letter of authority from the First."

He draws himself up-. And that's when I see that his modern and well-tailored suit is made from human skin. Human facial skin, to be precise. The eyelids, mouths and noses are sewn shut and I… Haven't studied human leatherwork to know how exactly they got it to tessellate like that, but-.

As the demon reaches out to take the letter with its right hand it strokes one of the faces with its left, the eyes momentarily opening and looking at me with an expression of absolute terror and suffering, closing when he move his left hand away.

The demon smiles at me smugly, then flips open the letter. He looks it over briefly, then nods. I doubt that he read it all, but he doesn't really need to. The First's mark at the bottom is enough to let him know that the matter is well above his level.

"Please wait here, sir." He passes the letter back to me. "I will inform Lord Mammon that you desire his company."

I nod and smile. "Thank you. That's a fetching coat you have."

"Thank you, sir. Gamblers who don't know when to stop are my particular speciality. Surprisingly good at judging risk, when it's not their money on the line. I'll leave you now, sir. Please feel free to order refreshments."

He turns and walks towards the cavernous hall containing Central Exchange. Here is where Hell conducts most of its financial business with the Earth. Leading people to damnation with financial transactions rather than simply trading favours for souls. Honestly, the way this place operates is far closer to how I imagined that Hell should work than anywhere else I've visited. It also acts as a central bank for Hell's own currency, though the relatively small size of Hell's middle class means that it's mostly used by demons who work here rather than anyone else.

I didn't prioritise it because as far as I can tell it works properly. The financial market doesn't require that everyone make good choices all the time, it just needs to reward good choices and punish bad ones. Rewards result in more power being given to people who make good decisions. The whole system is therefore self-correcting so long as basic social order is maintained. And in these halls, Mammon is good at making sure that happens.

A small skivvy-imp flies down from a small doorway high in the wall and floats in front of me.

"Lord Mammon will see you now. Please, follow me."
 
Day 21
27th March 2013
21:44 GMT


"You're right."

Bruce nods, a display of the discrepancies visible on the main screen of his computer. Which is not called 'the bat computer', or any variation thereof. He was quite clear about that, and appeared to genuinely not know what I was talking about the first time I used that name. It's a bit like how the batmobile was named as such by Richard, and before that was 'officially' just called 'the car'.
Yes, Batman hardly seems the type to do the whole 'my theme'-'thing' naming scheme. These days, anyway. And I suspect any other theme naming is the result of public news reports. 'Batplane sighted over Gotham!' would make for a hell of a headline, after all.

It just goes to show that if that bat hadn't flown through the window on his first night out, he genuinely would have bled to death. Naming things is not Bruce's forte.

"Colin Thornton has been importing raw materials far in excess of his company's use of them. I wasn't able to determine what he is using them for."
And really, there were worse choices. Owl Man, Squirrel Man... I remember one gag comic doing a 'Woman-Man' theme because he got his ass kicked by prostitutes and 'Even bad men fear their mothers!' Or something like that. Google is proving no help finding it. :oops:

I nod solemnly as he turns away from the screen and towards me.

"Do you intend to tell me what you know?"
Now, how to get around the terms of his contract. Since this is too important to let sit.

"Regrettably, I am bound not to for the next nine days. Of course, should you choose to investigate on your own recognisance, that would be your affair."

"And after nine days?"
Nine days? Bats could sort it out in, like, two. If he takes a nap.

I wave my right hand dismissively. "On the off-chance that it's still an issue, I can tell you then."

So long as I don't personally profit from it, at least. But we made sure to draft the contract in such a way that the First couldn't just show me everything in order to prevent me doing anything about any of it forever.

Thing is, in terms of efficiency…
Presumably, while the First would love to fuck you over, he needs the outside-perspective advice more.

Simpson got stamped on for disrupting the market contrary to the interests of the market leader. Or 'dominant market player' at least. But, he got picked up by another senior demon and is working for him, which isn't as efficient as a pure free market where demons can choose between flesh modifications and mechanical ones, but it does indicate that his talents aren't just being wasted. And things might change in his favour in the longer term, as Satanus meets with more success and others are forced to reconsider their own methods.
Only if Satanus deigns to play the game with other demons. Which he might not want to bother with.

But…

Satanus is sitting pretty on Earth and in Purgatory. Which means that the rest of Hell won't even see what he's using. So there's that. The Renderers didn't even make Simpson an offer, which suggests that demon hiring practices are sub-mafiosi. It's unlikely to just be Simpson who suffered that sort of treatment, he's just the one I know about. If-.
There's bound to be many demons like that. It's just a matter of finding them amidst the chaff who would happily lie through their teeth about being one.

"Do I need to investigate within the next nine days?"

"If you're asking me if a person like me would advise a person like you that a person like Mister Thornton should be investigated rapidly, I suspect that person would say 'no'. However, since such advice would come before an in-depth investigation, it would be impossible to say for certain that it wasn't necessary."
:confused: Talk about a labyrinth of a sentence. I think the answer is ultimately 'yes'?

"I see. Is there anything else?"

"No, thank you." Hm. Bruce and I don't meet up too often. Is there anything I need to check..? "Director Armstrong not making too much of a nuisance of herself so far?"
Armstrong? Of the Department of Metahuman Affairs? When would she not be?

"She threatened to instruct child services to investigate my treatment of Robin."

I bite my lip, then look up at the ceiling.
...Yeah, seems about the sort of dirty play she'd try.

"Since she can't touch the Justice League directly, she intends to target our associates. Our families."

"Batman, I'm sure that you had your reasons. But I wouldn't dream of getting my children involved in-."
I mean, each of their sidekicks are determined to be superheroes. It's better to have them at least being mentored, than let them run around on their own.

"Darfur."

"Sunset and Misa were both older, and Lynne didn't have to go anywhere near the actual fighting. And she's a lot more resilient than Richard is. I wouldn't have given that task to my younger children, and you'll note that I haven't done anything like that again." I shake my head. "Look, Richard is sixteen. They can't take him away from you now because he can just manumit himself-."
Plus, each of them has superpowers. Dick is, in this timeline, just an ordinary teenager, albeit a well-trained one.

"Emancipate himself."

"And come back on his own. And… Frankly, yeah. I'm not keen on people Richard's age doing fieldwork. Yes, I've heard your explanations, all our missions ballooned out of control and half the time it was because of something we did, and Richard needed something to focus on other than hunting Anthony Zucco down and brutally murdering him… But I still don't think that it was the right decision."
To be fair, what better options were there?

"Robin and I do."

"Child services won't." I shrug. "The best way to avoid blackmail is to either not have anything that can be used to blackmail you, or to not care. Armstrong's probably going to do something stupid before too long, get herself in over her head." I smile broadly. "Personally, I find the idea of Bruce Wayne being appointed to the Directorship hilarious. That is the sort of thing politicians give to their donors, isn't it?"
She does seem a little... Short-sighted about the consequences of her actions sometimes.

He considers it. Briefly.

"I wouldn't have the time."
Two careers are enough. Especially when one of them is its own full-time job.

"Then you could try finding someone else. As I said, she's too aggressive to avoid making a mess of things eventually. And she hates it when her attempts at hardball don't work. I'd just ask you not to set her off for a couple of years. Having her fight the other alphabet agencies for territory is ensuring that the D.M.A. will last, and we do sort of need it."

"Mm."
On the other hand, her being in charge isn't going to make any friends amongst the other alphabet agencies... The reputation loss once she's eventually ousted might be unrecoverable.

"Well, thank you again. I'll leave you to it. Mother Box, hush tube."

"Ping."
"Back to the blasted pit..."

I step through the tube, back into Gull. Well away from the debris of Neron's tantrum and into the realm of the upper class merchants. A thin and pointy-looking demon who puts me a little in mind of a Muppet in general appearance sniffs at me.

"Does sir have an appointment?"
...Dammit, now I can't hear anything other than a snooty maitre'd voice for this guy now.

"Sir has a letter of authority from the First."

He draws himself up-. And that's when I see that his modern and well-tailored suit is made from human skin. Human facial skin, to be precise. The eyelids, mouths and noses are sewn shut and I… Haven't studied human leatherwork to know how exactly they got it to tessellate like that, but-.
...I guess his business has been good. That's not a cheap piece of tailoring.

As the demon reaches out to take the letter with its right hand it strokes one of the faces with its left, the eyes momentarily opening and looking at me with an expression of absolute terror and suffering, closing when he move his left hand away.

The demon smiles at me smugly, then flips open the letter. He looks it over briefly, then nods. I doubt that he read it all, but he doesn't really need to. The First's mark at the bottom is enough to let him know that the matter is well above his level.
No doubt it's accompanied by a mystical aura of loathing that confirms its validity...

"Please wait here, sir." He passes the letter back to me. "I will inform Lord Mammon that you desire his company."

I nod and smile. "Thank you. That's a fetching coat you have."

"Thank you, sir. Gamblers who don't know when to stop are my particular speciality. Surprisingly good at judging risk, when it's not their money on the line. I'll leave you now, sir. Please feel free to order refreshments."
Heh. I guess some people don't know when to fold them.

He turns and walks towards the cavernous hall containing Central Exchange. Here is where Hell conducts most of its financial business with the Earth. Leading people to damnation with financial transactions rather than simply trading favours for souls. Honestly, the way this place operates is far closer to how I imagined that Hell should work than anywhere else I've visited. It also acts as a central bank for Hell's own currency, though the relatively small size of Hell's middle class means that it's mostly used by demons who work here rather than anyone else.
Though no doubt being lucky enough to have an account here is a status symbol of it's own.

I didn't prioritise it because as far as I can tell it works properly. The financial market doesn't require that everyone make good choices all the time, it just needs to reward good choices and punish bad ones. Rewards result in more power being given to people who make good decisions. The whole system is therefore self-correcting so long as basic social order is maintained. And in these halls, Mammon is good at making sure that happens.
Until something goes wrong, some young pup of a demon gets ideas above his ability and manages to get Mammon overthrown...

A small skivvy-imp flies down from a small doorway high in the wall and floats in front of me.

"Lord Mammon will see you now. Please, follow me."
Now, is he really from Mammon, or is this a distraction for something? Is someone stupid enough to pull such a play now?

:confused: Why am I getting flashbacks to 'Making Money' right now? At any rate, it'll be interesting to see how this version of Mammon is handling things here. And whether that sort of management style can be extended to other parts of Hell... Also clever, putting Batman on Satanus' earthly identity. There is still the question of what he's doing with all the magical energy he's playing around with at his building, after all.
 
:confused: Why am I getting flashbacks to 'Making Money' right now? At any rate, it'll be interesting to see how this version of Mammon is handling things here. And whether that sort of management style can be extended to other parts of Hell... Also clever, putting Batman on Satanus' earthly identity. There is still the question of what he's doing with all the magical energy he's playing around with at his building, after all.

I strongly suspect that Mosit Von Lipwig and especially Lord Vetanari would do rather well in Hell after a period of adjustment.
 
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Yes, Batman hardly seems the type to do the whole 'my theme'-'thing' naming scheme. These days, anyway. And I suspect any other theme naming is the result of public news reports. 'Batplane sighted over Gotham!' would make for a hell of a headline, after all.

And really, there were worse choices. Owl Man, Squirrel Man... I remember one gag comic doing a 'Woman-Man' theme because he got his ass kicked by prostitutes and 'Even bad men fear their mothers!' Or something like that. Google is proving no help finding it. :oops:


Now, how to get around the terms of his contract. Since this is too important to let sit.


Nine days? Bats could sort it out in, like, two. If he takes a nap.


Presumably, while the First would love to fuck you over, he needs the outside-perspective advice more.


Only if Satanus deigns to play the game with other demons. Which he might not want to bother with.


There's bound to be many demons like that. It's just a matter of finding them amidst the chaff who would happily lie through their teeth about being one.


:confused: Talk about a labyrinth of a sentence. I think the answer is ultimately 'yes'?


Armstrong? Of the Department of Metahuman Affairs? When would she not be?


...Yeah, seems about the sort of dirty play she'd try.


I mean, each of their sidekicks are determined to be superheroes. It's better to have them at least being mentored, than let them run around on their own.


Plus, each of them has superpowers. Dick is, in this timeline, just an ordinary teenager, albeit a well-trained one.


To be fair, what better options were there?


She does seem a little... Short-sighted about the consequences of her actions sometimes.


Two careers are enough. Especially when one of them is its own full-time job.


On the other hand, her being in charge isn't going to make any friends amongst the other alphabet agencies... The reputation loss once she's eventually ousted might be unrecoverable.


"Back to the blasted pit..."


...Dammit, now I can't hear anything other than a snooty maitre'd voice for this guy now.


...I guess his business has been good. That's not a cheap piece of tailoring.


No doubt it's accompanied by a mystical aura of loathing that confirms its validity...


Heh. I guess some people don't know when to fold them.


Though no doubt being lucky enough to have an account here is a status symbol of it's own.


Until something goes wrong, some young pup of a demon gets ideas above his ability and manages to get Mammon overthrown...


Now, is he really from Mammon, or is this a distraction for something? Is someone stupid enough to pull such a play now?

:confused: Why am I getting flashbacks to 'Making Money' right now? At any rate, it'll be interesting to see how this version of Mammon is handling things here. And whether that sort of management style can be extended to other parts of Hell... Also clever, putting Batman on Satanus' earthly identity. There is still the question of what he's doing with all the magical energy he's playing around with at his building, after all.
Grayven wishes he was half as effective as Moist Von Lipwig.
 
So what exactly is Hell's currency? I thought practically all demons dealt in power, power to survive, power to advance in the hierarchy, etc. Is the currency soul tokens or something?
 
I'm a bit curious, Zoat. If Antimatter Universes are generally where most versions of the Crime Syndicate dwell in your take on the DC multiverse, then does that mean the Antimatter version of Earth 3 is much closer to a typical DC universe? Or is it also awful, just in a different way?
 
I'm a bit curious, Zoat. If Antimatter Universes are generally where most versions of the Crime Syndicate dwell in your take on the DC multiverse, then does that mean the Antimatter version of Earth 3 is much closer to a typical DC universe? Or is it also awful, just in a different way?
Earth 3? Have I forgotten something that I've written again?
 
Hellish Content (part 16)
Day 21
27th March 2013
21:52 GMT


To my mild surprise, Mammon isn't alone in his office. Though due to the Demon Lord's sheer bulk, it takes me a moment to spot the other demon. Mammon is big, red, dressed in a suit which barely contains either his bulging muscles or corpulent gut. There's a decorative gold necklace around his neck, rings on his fingers, a ring through his chin and… If I'm seeing right, his nipples are pierced by large… What do you call them?

I had not conceived that such things would need to be named.

Nipple.. fishing weights? His fat means that his head merges with his neck, the location of which I can only deduce by the location of his collar which -to be fair- is as well-tailored as it could be. There's gold thread in the jacket and trousers, and if I had to summarise the whole thing I'd say 'unusually blunt communist depiction of the capitalist class'.

He's also huge. I'm slightly smaller than his head, and I'm not exactly a small man. The area of the room around his desk is scaled to him, giving me a distinctly Lilliputian feeling. Honestly, the size is throwing me a little. In financial terms he's the richest man down here, but it's in much the same way that merchant princes in the Middle Ages could well be richer than their kings. Pleasant, until one of the paupers with an army decided to pay them with your savings. He isn't that powerful, magically speaking. Not compared to the First or even Neron. And yet, for some reason, he's choosing to present himself like this to me.

"Yes, yes, you may go, Flragrah."

And that's when the other demon draws my attention to him, walking across the carpet. I… Think I remember him from John's notes. Unless I miss my guess that's Blathoxi, Lord of… Flatulence, of all things, and the head of the commodities exchange. He looks like his boss in miniature: less muscle, a suit that's fifty years out of style and -thank Heaven for small mercies- no immediately obvious piercings. He has membranous wings which his boss lacks, while Mammon has small horns that Blathoxi doesn't have. On the face of it Blathoxi looks like no threat at all, but he's still a second-tier demon.

My escort bows and backs away four paces before turning and leaving the office. I see Mammon smirk, extend his right hand slightly and flick, a huge gold coin flying from his desk and impacting the wall just in front of Flragrah, causing him to start and back up, looking back to see exactly what his master intends.

"A gratuity for your good work, Flragrah. Take it."

"Thank you, eminence."

He bows, then reaches up and tries to pull it out of the… Wood? But it looks like it's firmly stuck.

Flragrah flaps his wings, planting his feet on the wall and tugging with all his might. And not just his physical strength. Flragrah isn't exactly top tier, but a demon working the door somewhere like this isn't going to be weak.

It isn't coming.

"Flragrah, we are trying to have a meeting here."

The tone is understanding, but the grin says it all. He's tormenting his underling, not with physical pain but with stress and shame. Given the opportunity to profit, and then putting him in a position where not only can he not take advantage of it but also doesn't know how he's supposed to handle it.

I could step in and-.

Blathoxi makes eye contact with me, gives his head a small shake and then motions towards… A tiny desk in front of the huge desk of the demon lord. I nod, following him with only a quick glance back-.

Flragrah has torn off his own left hand, demon blood spurting out and… Lubricating the giant coin. He winces as he pushes his hand back onto the stump and mutters something, putrid smoke wafting from the wound. He shudders in pain.

Mammon leans forwards, forearms steepled. "Well?"

Wrist still smoking, Flragrah applies himself to the coin once more and this time it comes free. But he's not ready for it and it falls on him, his wounded arm failing to support it.

Mammon's grin widens.

Flragrah manages to prop the coin against his left shoulder to arrest its movement, then gradually pushes it into an upright position where he can roll it to the door. Very carefully, he moves around to the front and starts slowly rolling it towards himself. By the time I've reached the desk he's just about managed to get it out of the door.

"Hah!" Mammon claps as the door closes. "Good initiative under pressure. That one is going places, Blathoxi, you mark my words."

"Consider them marked, Lord."

"Now…" Mammon leans forward, so that he can see me over his desk. "Grayven."

"Lord Mammon. Thank you for agreeing to see me."

"Not often the First gets interested in what we do down here. No interest in collecting souls, no interest in mortal economics, barely any interest in the administration of Hell most of the time. At least Lucifer was up for the occasional wager, canny bastard that he was."

He tilts his head a little to the left, then moves his right hand out of sight-.

The desk I'm standing next to and a circle of the carpet around it shoots upwards, Blathoxi standing entirely unruffled at my side. It comes to a halt level with Mammon's desk, letting him look at us from a slouched-back position, hands clasped over his corpulent belly.

"What can I do for you?"

I take out my letter of authority, but Mammon raises his right hand.

"No, no. That won't be necessary. I trust that you are who you claim to be."

I unfold the letter and hold it out towards him, his eyes unable to avoid being drawn to it. Only once they move away do I fold it back up and put it away.

Clearly, it was necessary.

"The First has contracted me to examine Hell's economy."

Blathoxi scowls. "Then why did it take you so long to come here?"

"Because as far as I can tell, this is the one part of Hell that's working properly. You tempt people to give into their vices, and if they fail, collect your due. You trade with one another, each with the aim of grasping every possible advantage, and there are winners and losers. The winners gain more authority, but you limit certain types of competition in order to keep the market functioning. Honestly, if it was up to me, I'd just put you in charge of the whole place."

Blathoxi… Is actually smiling. It's pretty disturbing to look at, a sneer with just enough genuine joy to add an element of confusion.

His master, however, is unmoved. "Governance is of little interest to me. The system I and my like-minded students have built is not something that would survive the likes of Neron setting it on fire when he throws a tantrum. It is sadly true that what has been built can always be destroyed."

"But that doesn't mean that it's always wrong to build. Demons are thinking creatures, you all want more than you have. You don't want the same old same old for eternity."

"You're speaking my language, godling. Top tier toadying. But you still haven't answered my question."

"In order to make recommendations to the First, I need to understand Hell's economic systems. I had thought that I could just make a few pertinent observations and call it a day, but your natures are so different to mortal creatures and the world you live in so dissimilar in its operating principles to what I'm used to that I don't think it will work. I need an understanding that I suspect that you possess so that I can begin to change this mess into something more rational. So in the First's name, oh Lord of Greed, share your wisdom with me."

"If you just wanted a chat, you should have come here at the start. The First's favour is rare coin. Blathoxi, get the economic modelling files. We're going to be at this a while."
 
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Day 21
27th March 2013
21:52 GMT


To my mild surprise, Mammon isn't alone in his office. Though due to the Demon Lord's sheer bulk, it takes me a moment to spot the other demon. Mammon is big, red, dressed in a suit which barely contains either his bulging muscles or corpulent gut. There's a decorative gold necklace around his neck, rings on his fingers, a ring through his chin and… If I'm seeing right, his nipples are pierced by large… What do you call them?
Well, at least he's trying to look the part of the investment banker. Wonder if he puts as much stock in fine business cards as some do. Though I sense he took all his fashion sense from anti-capitalism political cartoons...

I had not conceived that such things would need to be named.

Nipple.. fishing weights? His fat means that his head merges with his neck, the location of which I can only deduce by the location of his collar which -to be fair- is as well-tailored as it could be. There's gold thread in the jacket and trousers, and if I had to summarise the whole thing I'd say 'unusually blunt communist depiction of the capitalist class'.
Heh. Looks like the Renegade thinks the same. Though I'm impressed he could see Mammon's body jewellery through his clothes. Or possibly disgusted that they're visible.

He's also huge. I'm slightly smaller than his head, and I'm not exactly a small man. The area of the room around his desk is scaled to him, giving me a distinctly Lilliputian feeling. Honestly, the size is throwing me a little. In financial terms he's the richest man down here, but it's in much the same way that merchant princes in the Middle Ages could well be richer than their kings. Pleasant, until one of the paupers with an army decided to pay them with your savings. He isn't that powerful, magically speaking. Not compared to the First or even Neron. And yet, for some reason, he's choosing to present himself like this to me.
...And now I'm reminded of the music video for Disturbed's version of 'Land of Confusion.'

"Yes, yes, you may go, Flragrah."

And that's when the other demon draws my attention to him, walking across the carpet. I… Think I remember him from John's notes. Unless I miss my guess that's Blathoxi, Lord of… Flatulence, of all things, and the head of the commodities exchange. He looks like his boss in miniature: less muscle, a suit that's fifty years out of style and -thank Heaven for small mercies- no immediately obvious piercings. He has membranous wings which his boss lacks, while Mammon has small horns that Blathoxi doesn't have. On the face of it Blathoxi looks like no threat at all, but he's still a second-tier demon.
An image he's no doubt cultivated for just that reason. After all, everyone looks at the giant demon-capitalist, no-one's going to notice him slipping behind them for a hostile takeover.

My escort bows and backs away four paces before turning and leaving the office. I see Mammon smirk, extend his right hand slightly and flick, a huge gold coin flying from his desk and impacting the wall just in front of Flragrah, causing him to start and back up, looking back to see exactly what his master intends.

"A gratuity for your good work, Flragrah. Take it."
Now that's quite the tip. Though a few degrees the wrong way and he'd be a smear in the rim of the coin...

"Thank you, eminence."

He bows, then reaches up and tries to pull it out of the… Wood? But it looks like it's firmly stuck.
To be fair, it is bigger than he is. Probably weighs a ridiculous amount.

Flragrah flaps his wings, planting his feet on the wall and tugging with all his might. And not just his physical strength. Flragrah isn't exactly top tier, but a demon working the door somewhere like this isn't going to be weak.

It isn't coming.
...This is more for Mammon's enjoyment, isn't it?

"Flragrah, we are trying to have a meeting here."

The tone is understanding, but the grin says it all. He's tormenting his underling, not with physical pain but with stress and shame. Given the opportunity to profit, and then putting him in a position where not only can he not take advantage of it but also doesn't know how he's supposed to handle it.
Test and torture in one. An efficient fellow, certainly.

I could step in and-.

Blathoxi makes eye contact with me, gives his head a small shake and then motions towards… A tiny desk in front of the huge desk of the demon lord. I nod, following him with only a quick glance back-.
Yes, just ignore the little door-demon guy. Time's a-wasting.

Flragrah has torn off his own left hand, demon blood spurting out and… Lubricating the giant coin. He winces as he pushes his hand back onto the stump and mutters something, putrid smoke wafting from the wound. He shudders in pain.

Mammon leans forwards, forearms steepled. "Well?"
...Clever.

Wrist still smoking, Flragrah applies himself to the coin once more and this time it comes free. But he's not ready for it and it falls on him, his wounded arm failing to support it.

Mammon's grin widens.
Good idea, not the best execution. But points for trying.

Flragrah manages to prop the coin against his left shoulder to arrest its movement, then gradually pushes it into an upright position where he call roll it to the door. Very carefully, he moves around to the front and starts slowly rolling it towards himself. By the time I've reached the desk he's just about managed to get it out of the door.

"Hah!" Mammon claps as the door closes. "Good initiative under pressure. That one is going places, Blathoxi, you mark my words."
And a nice bit of time-killing entertainment.

"Consider them marked, Lord."

"Now…" Mammon leans forward, so that he can see me over his desk. "Grayven."
Well, then. The floor show is over, time to actually get down to business.

"Lord Mammon. Thank you for agreeing to see me."

"Not often the First gets interested in what we do down here. No interest in collecting souls, no interest in mortal economics, barely any interest in the administration of Hell most of the time. At least Lucifer was up for the occasional wager, canny bastard that he was."
Heh. Probably feels like a completely alien mindset to these fellows.

He tilts his head a little to the left, then moves his right hand out of sight-.

The desk I'm standing next to and a circle of the carpet around it shoots upwards, Blathoxi standing entirely unruffled at my side. It comes to a halt level with Mammon's desk, letting him look at us from a slouched-back position, hands clasped over his corpulent belly.
Probably to minimise the amount of rubbing his chins do when he looks down. That stuff must chafe.

"What can I do for you?"

I take out my letter of authority, but Mammon raises his right hand.

"No, no. That won't be necessary. I trust that you are who you claim to be."
But the formalities must be observed, you know. It's a binding requirement.

I unfold the letter and hold it out towards him, his eyes unable to avoid being drawn to it. Only once they move away do I fold it back up and put it away.

Clearly, it was necessary.
See? Binding. Before, he could simply stall until Grayven got bored. Now, he has to cooperate.

"The First has contracted me to examine Hell's economy."

Blathoxi scowls. "Then why did it take you so long to come here?"
'If it ain't broke, don't fix it.'

"Because as far as I can tell, this is the one part of Hell that's working properly. You tempt people to give into their vices, and if they fail, collect your due. You trade with one another, each with the aim of grasping every possible advantage, and there are winners and losers. The winners gain more authority, but you limit certain types of competition in order to keep the market functioning. Honestly, if it was up to me, I'd just put you in charge of the whole place."
Sadly, it is not. In this timeline, at least.

Blathoxi… Is actually smiling. It's pretty disturbing to look at, a sneer with just enough genuine joy to add an element of confusion.

His master, however, is unmoved. "Governance is of little interest to me. The system I and my life-minded students have built is not something that would survive the likes of Neron setting it on fire when he throws a tantrum. It is sadly true that what has been built can always be destroyed."
Good point. Unless he can change demonic minds about this stuff...

"But that doesn't mean that it's always wrong to build. Demons are thinking creatures, you all want more than you have. You don't want the same old same old for eternity."

"You're speaking my language, godling. Top tier toadying. But you still haven't answered my question."
I'm sure he's quite familiar with the spouting of bullshit and brown-nosing. Though I suspect for some, it's more literal.

"In order to make recommendations to the First, I need to understand Hell's economic systems. I had thought that I could just make a few pertinent observations and call it a day, but your natures are so different to mortal creatures and the world you live in so dissimilar in its operating principles to what I'm used to that I don't think it will work. I need an understanding that I suspect that you possess so that I can begin to change this mess into something more rational. So in the First's name, oh Lord of Greed, share your wisdom with me."
And even this guy an see that with the First's tacit approval, he can make his changes more global.

"If you just wanted a chat, you should have come here at the start. The First's favour is rare coin. Blathoxi, get the economic modelling files. We're going to be at this a while."
Oh, dear. Time for the truest evil: Powerpoint presentations!

Got to love a demon that isn't just a sadistic chuckle-fuck with no long-term goals beyond 'get more power'. These two are smart enough to want to change things for, if not the better, for the profit of all participants. And there's no profit in wanton destruction, self-serving arrogance or malevolent impulses. No, they seek the true goal of the ambitious: getting rich.
 
Why is Mammon always coming across as such a pleasant demon? Like, Flragrah there had a bit of a tough time, but heck of a pay bonus came out of it. He knows his business and runs it well, his subordinates seem genuinely attached to him, in fact, if you have to be in Hell it doesn't seem that bad to work for him.
 
Why is Mammon always coming across as such a pleasant demon? Like, Flragrah there had a bit of a tough time, but heck of a pay bonus came out of it. He knows his business and runs it well, his subordinates seem genuinely attached to him, in fact, if you have to be in Hell it doesn't seem that bad to work for him.
Because unlike the other six deadlies, greed has been rehabilitated. No one makes movies saying "Sloth is Good!", now do they?

More broadly, medieval notions of righteous conduct were extremely foreign to moderns, and things they'd consider incredibly evil greed with no redeeming features, like 'buying goods in one place and selling them for more money in another', are now considered virtuous and indicative of an upstanding member of the community. It's only natural that the embodiment of evil greed no longer looks that evil.

(Lust ought to get the same treatment, but succubi have stuck pretty hard.)
 
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Why is Mammon always coming across as such a pleasant demon? Like, Flragrah there had a bit of a tough time, but heck of a pay bonus came out of it. He knows his business and runs it well, his subordinates seem genuinely attached to him, in fact, if you have to be in Hell it doesn't seem that bad to work for him.
Because being personable is part and parcel of getting people to give you their valuables.
 

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