Mammon was left in the dust, contemplating his gold-plated failures, when a sound echoed through the hallway—a sound so heavy that the very marble of the floor seemed to beg for mercy.
General Abaddon stepped into the light.
Appearance: He was encased in matte black armor from head to toe—the kind of armor that shouted, "I am here, and I can erase you." A charismatic scar ran from his left eye down to his jaw, giving him that ultimate "bad boy" allure. In his hand, he gripped a massive battle-axe that was taller than Madison herself, its blade still looking like it held the shivering echoes of previous victims.
Pure, unadulterated "Toxic Masculinity." The air around him screamed, "What I say goes, no questions asked." He was the polar opposite of Tyler's passive-aggressive lies.
While Tyler would say, "Babe, we're just friends," Abaddon was the type to say, "I'll lock you in a tower and swallow the key."
"Madison," Abaddon growled.
His voice was a tectonic rumble from the deep. He loomed over her, his massive shadow swallowing her whole.
"You will be safe with me. Cowards like Tyler won't be able to ghost you, because I will personally turn anyone who dares to ghost you into dust. Come with me and be the Queen of my wars. I will burn worlds for you."
Madison pretended to inspect a speck of dust on the General's armor, then looked up at his scar as if it were a poorly applied Instagram filter. She whipped out her hand sanitizer and gave the axe a quick spritz, as if protecting herself from a common flu.
"Ooo, General! The aura is great, the muscles are on point, and that voice? Totally vibrating. But... honey, we have a major problem," Madison said with a smirk.
"You're a total 'controlling narcissist.' Every inch of you screams, 'I'll love you so much you won't be able to breathe'."
Abaddon slammed his axe into the floor, shaking the castle. "I protect, Madison! I possess!"
"Ugh, stop shouting! My head is already spinning from Mammon's clinking gold," Madison said, waving a hand dismissively.
"Look, General, Tyler was exactly like you. 'Where did you go? Who were you talking to? Why did you post that photo?' He'd suffocate me with questions, while he was out having a blast with that 'cheap blonde' Tiffany. What you call 'protection' is just being a glorified prison guard."
Madison tapped her finger against his armor.
Clang.
"Besides, if we went on a date—say, a very chic rooftop bar—and the waiter was five minutes late with the food, you'd probably chop him into mincemeat with that axe. I love drama, baby, chaos is my middle name, but not to the point where I have to serve prison time or clean up brains on every date! I want a 'Luxury' life, not a 'Crime Scene'."
Madison stepped even closer, squinting at the neckline of his armor.
"And this armor... honey, does your skin even breathe? Look, there's a breakout starting right there! Your pores are completely clogged. It's tragic. All that war, all that destruction... when do you find time to moisturize? When do you exfoliate? I don't even want to think about the sweat smell inside this suit; it's probably more hazardous than Beelzebub's inn."
Abaddon was speechless. For the first time in his eternal life, a mortal had told him his "pores were clogged."
"Go on, General. Go sharpen your axe and maybe make yourself a nice, calming chamomile tea. And please, wear some moisture-wicking layers under that suit; your skin is screaming for help," Madison said, turning her back on him to walk toward Astaroth.
Astaroth looked like he was about to burst into laughter watching the most feared warrior in Hell crumble because of a "lack of moisturizer."
Madison had reduced a legendary general to a "grooming-deprived macho" in under a minute.
He wrapped his arm around her waist again, pulling her deeper into the castle.
"You're truly something else, Madison. You just linked a thousand-year war strategy to a lack of exfoliating cream. Mady, I'm afraid I'll never be able to marry you off because no one will survive your skincare standards long enough to reach the altar."
Madison smirked.
"What can I say, Asti? His aura was strong, but his soul was just another version of Tyler's 'macho act' to get attention. I've been there, done that. I only do 'Expensive' now."