Clean Sweep Ch. 10 (DC Comics)

(Every character depicted in the story below is a consenting legal adult over the age of 18)

A/N: Cole experiments… to limited success.

-x-X-x-

… What did he know about his magic, really? Staring down at the hundreds of thousands of dollars in front of him, Cole has to admit… not much. Oh sure, he knew he could clean with it. He’d been doing that for a while now and it had been enough to keep him in this small apartment with a roof over his head and food in his belly.

But then he’d also apparently been able to silence a Demon Lord’s voice without even meaning to. He’d given Raven relief with a wave of his hand and then a touch of his fingers… and finally with a direct injection of his magic to her innermost being. He was protecting her from her father’s demonic influence somehow… and he didn’t have a clue how he was doing it.

And then there was what had happened today. Chemo was a walking, talking biohazard. He was literally personified toxic waste. And yet… should Cole’s magic have been able to take huge chunks out of the monster like it had? Sure, cleaning up the radioactive sludge from all around them was one thing… but he hadn’t just cleaned the street. He’d outright dismantled Chemo, destroying the monster in just a few swipes of his hand.

Now here he is contemplating the clean yet dirty money arrayed in front of him. Physically, it’s all pristine. The plastic bag it had been stored in was doubled up on and then duct taped before being buried, so there’s not a single ounce of dirt or dust on any of it. These bills have also obviously never been used before… which is why Cole is confident that the money is likely stolen.

And therefore… it’s dirty. Even if it looks clean, even if it seems pristine, this money is dangerous. It’s ‘filthy’ and unusable in its current form as far as he’s concerned. And maybe… maybe that’s enough?

Cole isn’t an idiot about it, of course. He knows he’s probably playing with fire here, trying to get all conceptual and shit with the money. Instead of waving a hand over ALL of the money, he grabs one of the straps. Ten thousand dollars feels surprisingly lightweight as he lifts it up and stares at it.

Visualizing the filth, visualizing the ‘dirt’ that would bring the authorities down on his head if he tried to spend it, Cole reaches out… and cleans that away.

Part of him is afraid that he’ll just straight up make the money vanish. Or, failing that, he’ll wash the ink straight off of it or something. But that isn’t what he’s trying to do. He knows, consciously, how valuable this money is… how important it is to both him and Raven.

So no, when he casts his spell… he’s not aiming to render it no longer legal tender. He’s just trying to… well, he’s not fully sure what he’s trying to do. Make it so it no longer sets of alarms in banking institutions, maybe? Make it so he doesn’t have to worry about people coming after him for it… definitely.

… Of course, nothing really seems to happen. He casts his spell and the money stays right where it is, still in his hand. Staring at it, Cole sees no differences on the top bill of the strap, no changes. It hasn’t been damaged… but he also can’t say for sure whether it’s worked or not.

Did his powers really work that way? They clearly worked in a way that went beyond Cole’s expectation and understanding of them, but conceptually cleaning the legal ‘dirt’ from a bunch of stolen money… that was probably a step too far… right?

Huffing, Cole shakes his head and looks to the rest of the cash. Almost half a million dollars… well, even if nothing had happened, he still focuses on that desire and casts the spell again, this time on the rest of the money. Then, he stands up and looks to Raven.

“I think… we’re going to buy a house with this. A place we can call our own. Shouldn’t be hard to find a proper fixer upper that someone is willing to sell for straight cash… and that I can just use my magic to make livable, I figure.”

Raven slowly nods.

“That sounds lovely, Cole.”

It did, didn’t it? Cole huffs and shoots Raven a smile before rolling his shoulders.

“Right. Let’s get to it then.”

The uncertainty over what his magic was truly capable of was really getting to him… but there was the other thing… they were undoubtedly on a timer. Trigon wouldn’t just sit by and let Cole continue to exist. Not when he was quite literally standing between the Demon Lord and his daughter.

That meant it was only a matter of time before they were tracked down to this apartment. One might argue that this made buying a house rather foolish… after all, they’d be sitting ducks wouldn’t they? Only, Cole would rather have a place his own that he could work on reinforcing against eventual attacks over relying on these paper thin walls any day of the week.

Not to mention, there’d be a lot less collateral damage if Trigon’s agents eventually came for them in a house, right? And hey, maybe Cole was worrying about nothing at all. Maybe Trigon’s agents didn’t have a clue where he and Raven were just yet. Maybe they were fumbling around in the dark and it would take months, even years for them to finally hunt them down.

Cole hoped that was the case. He could really use the time to figure out his magic and prepare some defenses. Because as things currently stood, Cole felt like he was already in over his head as it was… so just a little bit more time would be… really, really great.

-x-X-x-

The door to the laundromat dings as a well-kept man in a perfectly tailored suit steps inside, his eyes trailing over the place with a sneer. He looks so out of place that the laundromat’s owner just stares for a long moment in disbelief, mouth agape and eyes wide.

The besuited man turns to face him and tilts his head to the side.

“This your place?”

Finally recovering, the laundromat owner’s eyes narrow.

“Who the fuck wants to know? You a cop? You have to tell me if you’re with the police. Show me a damn badge or I ain’t answering any questi-urk!”

Between one moment and the next, the man in the suit has crossed the dozen feet or so of space that exists between the two of them. His hand closes around the laundromat owner’s throat, cutting him off.

“Hush now. I don’t want to hear anything out of your mouth if it’s not a proper answer to my questions.”

Of course, rather than actually asking any questions, the besuited man looks around some more, choking the laundromat owner all the while. The latter’s struggles begin to weaken as the former breathes in deeply, his nostrils flaring and his chest expanding as he fills it with air.

“… The stench of Greed in this place is wonderful. Only… there’s something else. Something… truly disgusting… he was here. Wasn’t he?”

The man looks to the laundromat owner, finally letting up enough to allow gasping for air and inevitably speech.

“T-The boy… you talking about the boy? The cleaning b-boy!”

That gets the man in the suit’s attention. He tilts his head to the side and smiles… it does not reach his eyes.

“The cleaning boy… yes, that sounds right. Tell me more.”

Cowardly and self-serving as he is, the laundromat owner doesn’t hesitate. He speaks in a rush, telling the besuited man all about the boy and his strange abilities. How he’d just shown up one day and offered to clean the entire place for some money. How he’d kept showing up, week after week, making it a regular thing.

“H-He’ll be back soon… I’m sure he will! I can help you set a trap for him if you want! We can catch him together!”

The man in the suit pauses at that last bit. His smile grows until its showing teeth. He chuckles as his eyes flash a golden-red.

“Liar. I can taste the acidity of your greed. I can tell you let it overwhelm you and drive him away.”

Trembling in fear, the laundromat owner immediately breaks.

“Okay, okay! Y-Yes… I cheated him. The last time he was here, I only paid him half… but he completed the work in half the time! Why should I pay the normal amount for half the time?!”

To his surprise, the man in the suit simply nods encouragingly.

“That’s exactly right. You did the right thing… your money is yours. You should keep ahold of it with everything you have, shouldn’t you?”

Eyes wide, the laundromat owner nevertheless nods jerkily.

“Y-Yes… yes, I should… ah… but… he wasn’t happy… he won’t come back here, I d-don’t think.”

 The besuited man sighs.

“No, I suppose he won’t. What a shame, that would have made things so much easier. We’ll have to hunt them down the hard way.”

Blinking slowly, the laundromat owner furrows his brow.

“Ah… them?”

For a second, the man in the suit had looked away, falling into thought. But when he hears the other man ask that, his attention focuses back on him. More specifically, his eyes drop down to the fanny pack filled with cash that the laundromat owner has on.

“… Give that to me.”

“W-What?! But you just told me it’s my money and I was right to hold onto it! I can’t just… give it to you!”

The besuited man pauses and stares for a long moment… before smiling his not-so-nice-smile again.

“You’re right.”

For the briefest of moments, the laundromat owner relaxes. And then the man leans forward and a second pair of eyes opens on his forehead as he bares sharpened teeth in a rictus of a grin.

“So I’ll just have to take it instead.”

What follows is violence that paints the inside windows of the otherwise deserted laundromat red. Screams can be heard from within for a moment, but at this time of day there’s no one around to hear them or come to their owner’s rescue.

After a minute, the man in the suit steps back out onto the sidewalk, one pair of eyes again, fixing his tie with one hand while the other holds of up the blood splattered fanny pack. Reaching into it, he pulls out the fistful of money, much of it crumpled and filthy, and brings it to his face, nostrils flaring as he breathes in its scent.

“Mmmm…”

It certainly looks incredibly out of place, given how well dressed and put together the man… or rather half-demon, is. In the end, a sudden ringing sound from his pocket causes him to shove the money back into the fanny pack and holds it at his side as he fishes the smartphone out of his pocket and accepts the call.

“Yo, James speaking.”

“James? Who the fuck is James?”

 The man in the suit rolls his eyes and huffs.

“Its Greed, you fucking moron. You still can’t remember my human name?”

“Why the fuck would I? You aren’t human, dumbass.”

A low growl reverberates from Greed’s chest, the Son of Trigon almost breaking his phone as it creaks from him clutching it too hard.

“Why the fuck are you calling me, Envy?”

“To fucking check in, why else? Did your stupid fucking ‘lead’ turn up anything?”

“Yes. Yes it fucking did. The boy was here. I’ve got his magical signature. It’s only a matter of time now.”

It takes a moment for Envy to respond.

“… Sure it is. Fuck you, Greed.”

“Fuck you, Envy.”

With that, Greed hangs up and stuffs his phone back in his pocket, pushing down his anger and rage. There are so many things Greed hates in this world. Altruism. Hope. Charity. And many, many more.

But he hates his fucking half-brothers even more. The other Sons of Trigon all embody their own Deadly Sin. Wrath, Envy, Lust, Sloth, and Gluttony. And of course him… Greed. The only one they’re missing is Pride… but then that’s why they’ve all gathered here in this city on their father’s orders.

Someone has taken Trigon’s Pride and Joy from him. Someone has severed the connection between their dear half-sister and their tyrannical father. That someone… is going to pay dearly when Greed or one of his brothers finally gets their hands on him.

Of course, none of them wants to share the reward. Which is why they’re only barely working together on Trigon’s orders. If their father hadn’t demanded it, they wouldn’t even be doing this much… in fact, they’d probably be actively sabotaging each other.

It didn’t matter though. One way or another, it would be Greed who managed to hunt down their wayward sister and her would be protector. It would be he who would destroy the insolent insect that dared to stand between their father and his daughter. And it would be he who would reap the lion’s share of the reward once their father had finally arrived on Earth and remade it in his image.

Greed grins as he turns and saunters down the sidewalk, fanny pack still in hand. He leaves a murder scene behind him… uncaring of who might eventually come upon it or what they might think of his work. Greed always got his due. Always.

-x-X-x-

A/N: Remember to Vote, leave a Like, and let me know what you think!

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Google Doc Link: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1ROrsrkIUtuZE7RoGRKUN1JRef1oPbzg-1U93UA0Ddr4/edit?tab=t.0