"I've lived so many years free, they've been the greatest ones. There's no way in Hell I'm going back to inprisonment!"
Mammon's tattered clothes ripple as he defiantly tosses his arms aside, shouting violently while doing so. It just keeps on staring, finally the tension is broken as it's harsh to hear metallic voice croaks.
"You don't know what's in Hell, allow me to show you..."
An Hour Earlier
This had marked the start of a new enterprise to be found, a new city to farm, a new public to dupe and murder. The young Windsor had struck the gold he'd long searched for. This would appease the dark being within and the one a layer further out. The rental van, 'commandeered' from a moving company who's sale attendants were 'tied up', purred as it rolled smoothly into the driveway of a secluded estate, nestled neatly into the city outskirts. This house would make a lovely base of operations for Windsor Independant Traders. The only problem being the family inside, though they would be quick work for one with a demon on call.
Mammon strode into the house as the doors flung off of the latches, each causing considerable damage to the houses', previously, expensive art pieces. It wasn't long after a stroll around the ground floor that Mammon's generic henchmen brought down a lone middle-aged man, his knees dragged along the ground while his head still remained in a slumber, blood was an unfortunate side-effect of 'physically enduced sleeping'. Mammon looked confused, as he looked back and forth between a painting and the victim repeatedly. This chain was broken when he questioned the man.
'So where's your family? Or is this your handiwork?'
He showed the now awoken, though still rather dazed, man a child's painting of a stick figure labelled 'DADy'. His response was an elegant ejection of red soaked saliva into his captor's face. He calmly wiped this away with a handkerchief while muttering.
'I need to remember to stop getting on eye level with INCONSIDERATE ARSEHOLES! Well either way you've just dug your own grave.'
Mammon's hand hooks itself into the nose and mouth of the man, he slowly begins draining the life force of the man, he falls to the floor a grey carcass. He then wipes his hands clean and walks into the kitchen.
'Gentlemen time to set up shop...'