➥ NARRATIVE | Getting The Devil's Nest
It had stood out to him, beckoning him in closer with loosely-fitted doors that whacked up against the frame when an occasional gust of wind blew in off the junk yard. The steps were slanted and the boards were puckered with the marks of bar fights from yesteryears. Half the windows were smashed out and their remnants were littered on the dust front like fool's diamonds. Greed loved the place the first time he saw it and he claimed it as his own.
The electricity didn't work, even when he flicked the light switch off and on a few times. There was a bar still set up in back, but it was coated in a year's worth of dust. Greed ran his fingers across the counter top, catching the dirt and grim there and holding it between his index and thumb. He raised it to his nose, smelled it, then laughed. His voice echoed in the empty space and bounced down the various twists and turns of the old bar.
"What a good find!" He yelled to no in particular. There was no one to yell to. But that would all change, he just needed a bit of time. A day or two and the place would be kicking it hot. Thankfully, he had a whole junk yard to play with and enough hop in his step to get the job done.
The homunculus shrugged off his vest and tossed it on a bar stool. He yawned, showing off his teeth - the mirror behind the bar reflected a ghost-image of himself, fuzzy and dim. He grinned at it and shoved a hand into his pocket. "Don't you worry about it," he said. "-we'll get right back on course. You'll see."
Again, he had no audience to approve of the jibe at himself.
Out back, there were two separate hallways that Greed imagined had two separate exits. He took the one he thought would be closest to the junk yard. And intuition did not deceive him. A chain-link fence blocked him, but he bolted up it like a cat up a tree, and landed feet-first in a crouch on the dirt. Dark was moving in, sliding like fingers across a fire-red sky. Greed's sunglasses caught the colors and rolled them through pitches of silver.
There was plenty go through - humans left all sorts of junk behind! Well, humans and who knew who or what else. Greed was excited at the idea of meeting new things - he loved things, wanted things, needed things. He collected things of all shapes and sizes and he was ever eager to again fill his nest with all the things normal folks feared.
Before realizing it, his avarice had him peeling through the litter. He found the old husk of a motorcycle, which he promptly placed in the "keep" pile. It needed some work, but it would be a fine piece for the bar. Beyond that, he dug further, finding all sorts of useful scraps: a giant plank of square wood, a tub basin, a baker's rack - "Who the hell gives up this stuff?" Greed's grin spread from ear to ear as he looked at his reflection in an old hub-cap before tossing it over into his pile.
The sun was starting to set as he dragged his things back inside. He noticed the slight effort he was exerting and noted that his core felt a shade light. Side effects from the unexpected trip, he supposed. It didn't felt gone - he could still feel those souls rolling about inside him, but they were quiet.
He shrugged.
His cash was tossed out onto the floor messily and he patted his hands against one another, shaking off dust. Most of the stuff would go to the bar - she was a thirsty gal that needed some unique dressings to get her ready for the crowds. The other stuff would be hauled upstairs and down the hallway. Greed imagined all the rooms, filled with people getting their rocks off this way and that. It sent a shiver of excitement down his spine and into his boots. All of them, all those eyes, all that want.
All that greed.
He rolled his shoulders back and went back to business. A few assortment of mugs, glasses, and beer steins were gathered up in his bulky arms and tossed into a sink out back. He tested the water - it ran after a few minutes, but not before the sink gave a terrible shake. He left them there to soak while he went back to clearing the main floor out. Anything that wasn't already broken stayed - the rest was piled high on the front step.
Greed returned twice that evening to the junkyard. It had fallen way past dark and he found company in a few stray cats that mewed from inside the junk pile. He offered a hand, but they shied away at first. "We're all freaks here," he had murmured before turning back to his pillaging. The cats came flocking once he stopped beckoning them and he rested gentle hands behind their ears whenever he paused to examine a particularly interesting artifact.
His last haul proved his most successful: an old jukebox had been piled against a collection of ice-boxes at the far back of the junk yard. It was colorful, all reds, golds, with some blue knobs on the console. Greed had dropped everything else just to drag it inside. He shoved it against the back wall, giddy as anything could be, and plugged it in, forgetting that electricity was a bust. He frowned down at the machine and gave an exaggerated sigh as he put his hand behind his head. "No juice, huh? I feel ya." He let his arm fall as he patted the music box affectionately. "We'll both get it in a bit. Just gotta wait."
A few of the cats from the junk yard had followed him in and Greed only noticed them when one of the smaller ones rubbed between his legs. He raised a brow over the rim of his shades, shrugged again, and lifted it up. It made a horrible noise and puffed out, but Greed just laid a hand on its head. "Yeah, yeah - hush it." And it did.
The kitten was placed onto his shoulder and it sprawled out like a rag doll. The humunculus snagged up his vest off the stool and made his way up a set of creaky stairs to the rooms.
He took the biggest one in the back, where the bed creaked loudly and an old set of chairs were toppled in the corner. Greed flopped onto the shell of a bed, careful of his new feline friend, and he sighed. His arms coiled around the back of his head and his vest found itself to be his pillow. The cat yawned with him, both of them fangs and teeth, before settling down on his chest in a tight U-shape. Greed ran his fingers down its neck and spine, feeling the warmth in its fur. "Been out there a while, huh?" He tilted his head back, watching the city lights through the wide-open window.
The cat's ear twitched. "Don't worry about it - you're mine now. I don't let people take away my things." A crazed look washed over him, but it went unnoticed by the kitten. Greed shrugged it off as he let his hand down and settled it on the bed.
"We'll conquer it, you know. And that Doctor there?" He turned his head forward, all smiles. "She really has no idea what's coming for her." Another yawn. Greed grunted, bones and muscles stiff - he had never had his kind of experience and it was extremely draining. "But first, let's try this out, hmn?"