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Chapter Six

Greed

Blood. Some way it is disgusting. They are all merely immature. Everyone bleeds. Many think of it as some sort of sign of weakness. While the man before Greed here did in fact seem weak, blood had little to do with that.
Hell. Others still would even state that blood is beautiful. Greed would never go that far. Blood was like steak sauce. Alone it was hardly delectable, but when mixed with the right ingredients, one could truly be satisfied with the mixture. But... wasn't that how paint worked with art? That is, after all, how Greed saw blood. It made no one more delicious, but when added, the most mundane of people suddenly became... art.
That! was how blood worked for Greed. A muscular man with elegant shades, pitch-black spiked hair, and very outspoken facial features, would be Greed in a physical nutshell. And if blood could be turned into a work of art, then Greed was a master artist. Surely none could mix blood with other elements the way he could. A knife, the streets, and the pedestrians, living or not, were owned by the blood in his beautiful works of art.
Of course, many great artists could make nothing without proper inspiration. That was true and untrue for Greed all at once. Yes, he could draw his paintbrush- a fourteen inch serrated hunting knife- and make wonders with a few strokes. But would an artist call it work if there was no feeling to it? He waited for true art. True inspiration!
Now was a special part of his existence. Now he drew beautiful designs of intrigue and despair. Inspiration at last had come his way. Indeed artistry was not Greed's only hobby. At his class of demon one would find that many things could bring him peace of mind. Music was becoming a rather genuine love to him. That's where the inspiration came in. This... this nymph broke Greed's guitar! Things were found that day. Pain was known. True emotion was unleashed! Life was revealed with intensity, even if only to fade away a moment later. After all, surely it is a small sacrifice for two measly lives to be lost, if an artist's work is to be appreciated at full.
Almost lost. Greed still had to...
"Oh GOD!!!! I've- I've had enough!"
The man was screaming. He had been for a while. Before he even began his punishment. But now it was much worse since Greed started...
Some people just don't know how to take a scalping with dignity, Greed thought to himself patiently. He wasn't upset. Just determined.
"Enough?" Greed asked calmly. Barely heard over the screaming. "Your woman said the same thing through body language. She didn't lie to me. Why do you lie to me?"
I'm not lying, sir! I-I-I..AH!" He was cut off again. Or at least... his ear was. The art was really coming to life through these screams. Greed did feel slightly down about losing that ear though. He was going for a graphic lump look. It would be enticing in a revolting way. The art was best in misery, too. He'd now bleed into unconsciousness.
"You have enough when the bleeding stops. Your woman had enough. Do you think I can't see through your lies? Your conscious lies? It'll all be over soon. But would you just... there you go. Scream a little louder.
Greed had been giddy at the joy of torture in hell. Knowing that this was all he could do sobered him up, though. Now that he was on earth, his powers greatly declined. Luckily, they were replaced with potential.
"Be thankful." Greed cooed to the shaking body that was going limp now. "I chose you two for this. You're the most important thing in my life until it's done. But since you look like you really had enough now..."
Screams began echoing again from the alleyway. If only for a few seconds further before they slowly faded away.


Submitted: February 05, 2010

© Copyright 2022 Jonathin Dreary. All rights reserved.

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