Greed God chapter 217

April 11th 2016 Brightedge City, South Side, 10:00 AM EDT

"So  Nightwing is sure this is the right place?" Barbie asked me  suspiciously. Barbie didn't have the best opinion of her former  boyfriend, probably because of the time he got his knob slobbered by  Zee. The hypocrisy of that bothering her when she'd literally  PARTICIPATED in Zee sucking my dick wasn't lost on me, but I didn't much  mind hypocrisy when I benefited from it so I didn't bother to defuse  her grudge.

I could understand her hesitation though. This  slum we were in didn't look like a place the superhuman descendant of  the Templar order would live. It didn't look like somewhere ANYONE would  live honestly. The place reminded me of footage of the aftermath of  some particularly light carpet bombings.

Still, it was the  lead we had. "No." I answered her succinctly. "He isn't. But we don't  have any OTHER leads, so this is what we've got. Azrael might be a  mysterious assassin, but he was in Gotham for a long time. Batman, and  through him Nightwing, were vaguely aware of him, even if they never  actually crossed paths. With the cities merging obviously tracking him  down from hearsay is a crapshoot, but it's better than nothing."

It  was also a potential goldmine of points rather than burning the damn  things to make the stake. There was no guarantee the points I had could  make a high enough level stake to take Lilith out, so I much preferred  to get my hands on the Suit of Sorrows and see if that could do it. If  not I could make the stake later, and with extra points to put into it,  so this was a win for everybody.

Well...everybody who was  me. It wasn't a win for Azrael, but I couldn't bring myself to give a  fuck about the opinions of a rabid hyper religious assassin. Wait, could  you call someone an assassin if they didn't get paid? Vigilante? Serial  killer? It didn't really matter. I was going to peel that armor off the  asshole, and if I had to peel off his fucking skin in the process I  would do it. I didn't like feeling powerless, and with all the bullshit  and plotting and the other system users starting to surface that was  exactly how I was feeling.

"So, did he give you any actual  clues aside from 'hey, why don't you check out that dumpster fire on  the south side?' Because that is SO Nightwing, doing a passable amount  of research and then pawning the legwork off on people more capable than  him." The bitterness in her voice would have been telling, if I didn't  already know how she felt. Barbie had quite a few issues about Batman's  favoritism toward Nightwing when they were both sidekicks. Her daddy  issues didn't ONLY come from Gordon being a workaholic.

For  my part I didn't actually mind the half assed work ethic. If he'd dug  too deep he might have noticed something off about this whole thing.  Gods knew I was kicking over complicated schemes every five steps during  this shit show. He hadn't left me completely in the dark though. "He  gave me something. Azrael wears a mask obviously, and as such we aren't  likely to find his home address, especially since he isn't active often.  But the current iteration of what I assume is an inheritance line has  frequent issues with a guy who lives around here."

She  made a face, her mouth curling into a sneer. "I wonder why. I assume  anyone who would live in conditions like this must be a rational and  completely sane human being."

I snickered at that. "Aren't  you heroic types supposed to be all sympathetic to the downtrodden.  That was a surprisingly bitchy thing to hear coming from Batgirl. Better  be careful or they might take away your saint badge." I'd been rubbing  off on Barbie in more than just the literal sense.

Clearly  realizing that, she grimaced in self recrimination. "That's...fair.  It's wrong to judge people for their circumstances. Whoever it is might  be suffering a lot." I rolled my eyes internally. It was no fun when she  just rolled over like that. I made a note to avoid picking at her  morality, I was just undoing my own work.

Feeling like I  needed to get her focused again, I 'sympathetically' put a hand on her  shoulder. "Don't be such an emo. The guy we're looking for is a satanic  rock star and a cult leader. Not any of the cults we're currently  dealing with...probably. But still, not a very nice person by any  standards. You weren't insulting some poor homeless guy. This Scratch  guy deserves anything that's coming to him."

Plus his name  was Nick, which annoyed me. There was only room for one charming  sociopathic Nick in this town. I would make sure to impress upon Scratch  that it might be in his best interest to change his first name if I  decided to let him live. Petty maybe, but I'd never claimed I was  magnanimous, and if I had it was probably a lie anyway.

We  finally arrived at our destination, the headquarters for Scratch and  his little collective. An old run down hotel he'd had retrofitted. It  had survived the merge pretty easily, since the inside was much higher  ranked than anything else nearby and had escaped being combined with the  much lower level building in its place in Metropolis. Scratch had more  sense than most people I'd met, having gone out of his way to keep a  facade over his hideout.

I could see small signs of the  underlying luxury here and there as we approached. Some security  fittings like plated reinforcements under the walls, a few reinforced  doors that were purposefully made up to look rusted. Of course, my  appraisal was the most obvious tip off that we were in the right place.

Strolling  up to the largest security door, I tapped it a few times, not putting  much into it, but not holding back either. My light knocking left fist  sized dents in the thick metal, which I was fine with. They would be  less likely to dick us around outside if they knew I could tear this  fucking door off the hinges and beat them all to death with it. While we  waited for a response I checked my phone. Nothing. I still hadn't heard  from dad, and I was getting annoyed. Inconsiderate old bastard never  gave a fuck about other people's time.

Finally, after  about three minutes, there was a series of clicks and scrapes as someone  unlocked a ludicrous and somewhat excessive number of dead bolts and  chains before the dented door slowly creaked open. Despite all the  unlocks, I could see a few chains still attached, holding the door shut.  "Who is it?" Said the girl on the other side.

I almost  rolled my eyes at her appearance. Goth slut cultist chic. Scratch wasn't  exactly subtle, fat tits packed into a corset, too much makeup, girl  next door pretty trying to be supermodel beautiful. A quick appraisal  confirmed my assumption. Molly had been a nearly invisible girl in high  school, and when Scratch had taken notice of her she'd been flattered.  She let him do whatever he wanted to her since he made her feel special,  which was mostly either fucking her or passing her around to his  lieutenants as a reward for service. Classy.

Granted, I  didn't fault him getting his dick wet, but giving away your stuff to  underlings was just undignified. If you wanted sluts for your minions  get them their own. "I'm Mammon." I growled at the mousy and very  twitchy cult slut. "I'm here to speak to Scratch."

To  avoid the whole "he's not here" or "what do you want?" nonsense, I  filled my eyes with Primal lightning, making them glow menacingly. Molly  squeaked and slammed the door shut. I head scampering as she ran off.  "What are the odds Scratch tries to sneak out the back?" Barbie asked in  amusement.

"Not bad." I said casually. "But that doesn't  much matter. I have Amy covering the back exit. Assuming he even has  time to escape since I sent Sindy and Cherry in there to round up his  people and send him out to meet us. Between the demiliches and Cherry's  ghostly bullshit I doubt they'll put up much of a fight."

Sure  enough, within about ten minutes the door opened again and a disheveled  overly made up man with thick black hair and a goatee was tossed  unceremoniously through the frame to land in a heap in front of me. I  appraised him casually. Nick Scratch, G-rank. Some fat nerdy loser who  got magic sexy rockstar powers from...I resisted the urge to facepalm.  Looking through a telescope. That was a new level of fucking stupid.

"Scratch."  I rumbled. Imbuing my speech with a draconic growl. "Looks like you  weren't planning to come greet us. That isn't very nice. Didn't your  parents ever teach you any manners?" They hadn't, mostly because they  died in a car crash when he was four, and the brief flash of helpless  rage at the comment amused me for second before he got it under control.

"I...don't  believe I've had the pleasure of an introduction. Meeting strangers can  be so risky nowadays. If I'd known I was having such distinguished  guests I'd have let you in straight away." I smirked at the smooth  talking. Scratch was endowed with superhuman charisma, which made him  extra weasely about talking his way out of trouble. It had zero effect  on me, since I didn't really feel the kind of camaraderie or awe he  inspired, and my girls were protected by the effects of my mental  protections. Sexually transmitted mind defenses had been one of my more  inspired early ideas and it continued to pay dividends.

"How  kind." I said dryly. "But we wouldn't want to impose. We were just here  for a little information. Once we get the knowledge we're after we'll  take a rain check on the invite." I saw Amy circle around behind him,  having received my call through the mark, but kept my focus on Scratch. I  wasn't worried he could hurt me or escape or anything, but Maxwell  Lord's rules of questioning hostages were very clear that you needed to  keep an eye on them until they coughed up the info. Snitches were about  ninety percent more likely than your average schmuck to get capped mid  questioning to keep them from talking.

In fact, part of  the reason we'd been so fucking obvious about coming here and talking  loudly about Azrael was on the off chance he had some method of keeping  an eye on scratch. If I was him, even if I wasn't able to spend much  time in costume, I'd have wired up nearby buildings to keep an eye on my  nemesis in case an opening arose. I gave it even odds Azrael tried to  snipe the bastard before he talked, and I'd made arrangements for it if  he did.

"Anything you need." He said with a smarmy grin.  "I'm always happy to be of service to the powerful members of our local  community."

I felt a twinge through one of the brands,  specifically one I hadn't interacted with in a while, and I grinned. "No  need actually. Seems like the problem solved itself. Better luck in  your next go around though." I probably could have saved him, but I  didn't care enough to bother.

His confused expression was  still on his face when the bullet punched through his forehead. Of  course, the shooter was too distracted to notice the counter sniper I'd  set up, and there was a crack as the bullet Roy spit at Azrael split the  air. I turned to take in the sight of the stunned killer stumbling off a  building, his body being surrounded by demiliches and contained as he  fell, though they prevented him from splattering on the ground.

Dealing  with competent enemies was sometimes even easier than pathetic ones. I  was celebrating internally for a minute, but that was apparently  premature. As I watched, a wave of vibrant blue energy exploded from the  armored figure, dispersing the demiliches and coalescing into a pair of  brilliant wings that arrested his fall completely, allowing him to  touch down without much trouble. Damn, guess we were doing this the hard  way.