#( gotta do what he's gotta do sdkjvsdf )

[xamassed]

⟬ @kismetkiss ⟭

Satan was honestly pretty excited after a new book he recently bought. It took time to save up from part time jobs, but eventually he was finally able to afford it despite the high price. A book from one of his favorite detective series. It was honestly all he could talk about for months now, so much so he was sure everyone was tired of hearing about it.

However, when he arrived back in his room... The book was nowhere to be seen. His room was messy, yes but he remembered leaving it specifically on his bed for when he returned.

How could it vanish....? He looked around for about half an hour before eventually coming to the conclusion that maybe it was stolen.

That book costed him a fortune so there was only one scumbag he knew who'd do something like this.

Little did Mammon know that Satan was someone who went to great lengths to get revenge on someone.

So the next time he spotted Mammon, he'd clear his throat to get his older brother's attention.

Then holding up a familiar good credit card, and a pair of scissors. All while he smiled.

"It'll start with the card, and then your car and all your other most prized possessions. You should know what I want, Mammon. Give it back." Next time he'll certainly work on putting a curse for annoying brothers to not be able to enter his room without asking first.

"Though, if you end up saying you already sold it then you know what'll happen, right?"

He was frantic, panicked, absolutely desperate. Like his younger brother, he was on a mad search for something he had lost, namely his beloved credit card. Although, he would swear to the deepest layer of the Devildom that she had been sleeping pretty in his wallet that afternoon.

"Where'd ya go, sweetheart?! Is this 'cause I said I'd use ya t'day, and I didn't? I swear, I was gonna! Ya can't stay mad at me forever!" He whined and griped, tossing every room in the House of Lamentation until — there she was, in his brother's hand.

His precious! His most valuable treasure!

And a pair of scissors, sharp edges poised precariously beside the slip of embossed plastic. Whatever excitement Mammon had felt upon seeing her dropped dramatically, glee turning to dread so fast it nearly punched a hole in his gut.

"Hey, Satan! How the hell did ya get your grubby little hands on Goldie? Give 'er back!" He growled his demand, but the ferocity behind it gradually waned as Satan spoke over him.

His card, his car and other prized possessions. That meant the rings he always wore, the wardrobe he spent years curating, the consoles he had pinched and his familiars.

He wouldn't dare. Surely, he would understand that his crows meant as much to him as cats did for the Avatar of Wrath. No one with a single functioning braincell would dare to hurt his murder.

"I don't know what you're talkin' about! Sold what?! I ain't touched anythin' of anyone's today, but it ain't like you'll believe me! No one ever freakin' does. How 'bout instead's blamin' me right away, ya go an accuse someone else?"

Then he remembered that Goldie was his hostage, and that he needed to cooperate in order to ensure that she made it out of this situation whole. Hands up, empty and meant to prove he was vulnerable. He wasn't, but he had to do what he could to convince his extremely peeved brother that he wasn't to blame.

"Look, okay. You're mad, and I get it. It sounds t'me like someone snagged somethin' of yours, and ya want it back. Cool. Totally cool. How about I help ya out? I find out who took it, and ya give me Goldie back?"