Broken Toys (A Robo Fizz Romance) (18+)

Chapter Two: Duty Calls

"Shit!"

Samara woke with a start to her phone's ringtone going off, the one she'd set for Mammon! She hauled herself from the bed, rushing to her pants that were still in the bathroom. Her muscles screamed in protest from their abuse the night before and she tumbled to her knees on the hard tile floor for a moment with a curse before hurrying again. She yanked the cell phone out of her pocket and answered it right before it went to voicemail.

"Yes sir?"

Her voice was breathless, but her boss either didn't notice or didn't care.

"You need me immediately? Umm should I shower first or—oh not that kind of meeting? Strictly actual business? Yeah, of course sir, I'll be right there!"

She hung up and scrambled all over to get dressed. Mammon still seemed irritated, though he was a bit calmer than he had been, so she was hopeful. Not screaming at her and threatening was a good sign. If he was in good humor, maybe they could even get along for a while. He wasn't... so horrible when he was happy, but like all important demons he was incredibly dangerous when riled.

Truth be told, Samara blamed herself more than anyone for her situation. If she just hadn't been so damned gullible, hadn't gotten herself into tough situations even in life, maybe she wouldn't have ended up in Hell at all. Maybe she would have had the sense to read the metaphorical fine print of her contract. Since it wasn't a booty call for lack of a better term, she grabbed up a tight keyhole black top with shoulder cutouts and long sleeves, whitewash jeans, and slipped on comfortable knee high boots over those, hiding the funky striped toe socks that were her favorites underneath. It always made her smile to wear something a little goofy under her professional gear.

She combed out her long white hair and pulled it into a high ponytail, contemplating cutting it so it wouldn't get so damned tangled in the night and turn into a bird's nest in only 8 hours. Her makeup didn't take long either, mostly just dramatic winged eyeliner and mascara. An easy 5 minute face. Satisfied with her appearance, she grabbed her favorite bat shaped purse, a Cherry PopTartarus and dashed out the door.

Mammon had provided a car once again. She made a mental note to see if he'd just finally give her her own to save on needing a driver. If it meant more money in the bank he'd probably acquiesce. The drive through the city was the same as always. Samara munched diligently on her breakfast while they passed hookers and drug dealers going about their mornings, and several fights down the various alleys.

The stink of sweat, piss, body odors, and various smoke managed to permeate the vehicle even with the windows rolled up. She wrinkled her nose, but there wasn't much to be done about it. When they reached Mammon's, she found him in his office, pouring over paperwork with a large, towering stack of bills piled off to the side. He always liked to count his profits personally when he was stressed. He was rubbing his temple with one gloved hand, demonic eyes narrowed to two narrow slits.

"Morning boss."

Samara greeted him nervously with a little wave. His unnerving gaze flicked up towards her, and his trademark grin spread wide across his painted face.

"Well, there's my favorite lady! Samara, Samara it's good to see you. I really have to thank you for last night. Hey, sorry I was so rough with you, I really should be more careful with my best toy, but this Loo Loo Land situation is driving me up a goddamn wall! Have you seen the paperwork?"

He gestured to the pile.

"This is going to take fucking weeks to sort out, even with you around."