This whole time I thought A.D. stood for "After Death" but now I realize it's also "Andrew Davenport".
Who's Andrew Davenport? Why, the King of Hell, of course.
******
He slumps lazily in his comfortable throne, one hand casually encircling a skull jutting out from an armrest. Ocean blue eyes scan his domain, finally resting on a young adolescent boy who annoys him for some reason. "Lauren, go cut off his head."
The petite blonde looks to be made of porcelain yet has a hardness to her delicate features. She squints at him irritably, flashing a glittering set of sharp teeth and looking astonishingly motherly for a heartless bloodsucker. "I didn't hear a 'please' in that statement."
He doesn't bother to argue with the vampire, though he refuses to say the dreaded word, choosing instead to ask someone else.
"Grace, surely you will go gut him for me?"
"Can't, I'm busy," she says, sounding very distracted indeed.
"You're staring into a mirror...?"
The shapely brunette doesn't even glance away, completely enthralled by her own reflection. "What's your point? The red lighting in here brings out my eyes."
He rolls his eyes, desperately searching for another willing murderess. "Ah, Muskaan." Finally, someone reliable. "Tell me you will kill my enemy?"
"I mean, sure. Okay." She shrugs casually and grabs an enormous katana off of its display on the wall.
"Cool," he smiles, though his kingdom is anything but chilly. "And bring me his head, alright?"
Muskaan nods, bowing formally before shifting into her werewolf form, the blade carefully held between her teeth. He wonders why she bothered with a weapon since her fangs and claws are more than sufficient to complete the task, but she bounds out of the throne room before he has the chance to voice his curiosity. She returns a moment later, swinging a bloody severed head by the scalp and grinning, clearly proud of her achievement. "Here ya go!"
He is pleased until he takes a closer look at the face. "This isn't even him."
Muskaan's features quickly melt into a homicidal expression, though her lips remain hauntingly upturned. She says nothing but seems ready to fling the dismembered cranium at any second.
"What a waste of immortality," he grumbles.
