I T was well known throughout the rings of Hell that if there was a way for Mammon not to spend any money then of course he was going to take that chance. Being the literal embodiment of Greed this only made sense after all. He’s swindled the lower class and the rich, not caring who had the money as long as they did and he could take it from them. If they didn’t, then he’d find a way to take something else, even sometimes their very soul. It was pretty evident that he was a force not to be reckoned with.
P E E R I N G down at the odd automation now resting on his table, he leans in close to get a better look, seeming to be rather interested in how it was put together let alone what sort of metal it was made out of. As he goes to simply lift up an arm someone clearing their throat interrupts him. His gaze settles on one of the imps that had brought the robot to him to begin with.
“S O are we gonna get paid for uh.. doin’ a good job?” They dare to ask as they nervously wring their hands together. This causes Mammon to scoff, lips tugging into one of his signature devilish smirks. A bad sign.
“P A Y you? Are you an idiot? Since when does the Sin of Greed pay anyone anything?” He takes a few steps towards the imps, the bells on his boots jingling with an ominous air to them. Robo Fizz peeks out from around one of his legs and gives a small wave, the same hand settling against his lips as he mouths out the words, ‘I’d leave if I were you’. There was no need to be told twice. Once they receive the message the imps dash off and don’t dare to look back.
“…Y O U warned them again didn’t you.” Mammon glances down at the jester, his smile from earlier tapering off into a frown. Robo Fizz gives a small shrug, “Dunno what you’re talkin’ ‘bout, but enough ‘bout that– What they bring ya?” He quickly climbs up the Sin’s leg and hops off once he reaches just about the table’s surface. Kneeling by the automation he wonders if it’s something like him but different and if so, where did it come from? He gives it a few curious pokes here and there, glancing back towards Mammon with a grin. “What you make of it, Big M?”
“I ‘ M not sure at the moment. I’d have to give it a proper examination by prying it open. You don’t think it feels pain, do you? I suppose it doesn’t matter… I think I’d enjoy it more if it did.”
With the imps dealt it, that would simply allow for more time to examine what they had tried (and failed) to sell Mammon. To say that the look of the automation was strange would be perhaps the understatement of the century. Robes covered the torso, though signs of damage similar to combat were easy to notice. Someone or something shot at the chest area, leaving scorch marks on bits of the robes. The burns for the heavily imaginative would give the impression that lasers were used or something of intense heat.
Upon removing the robes would reveal that the metals were not uniform. As if someone had built random bits of metal of different types to replace damage, the amount of times it was done would be unclear. Though it was evident it would be difficult to trace what was the original outer metal and what were the replacements. The Arms held small grooves by the wrists, showing that the ability to fire ammo long depleted could be seen if opened. Which in turn implies this was a machine made for combat.
The head was covered by a hood, though most of the visual sensors were augmented more on the left side of the face. Most damage was purely external, as all internals still functioned. Which included the memory core, with only the power source being what was destroyed. Meaning all it needed was to be turned on once again to reactivate.