Shadowmaster's Final Conquest

Shadowmaster's Final Conquest
‘Twas an ordinary night and Shadowmaster had just returned home from the bar where he had spent the last seventeen hours unconscious at table three.

He was depressed. Oh, so depressed.

For Shadowmaster, the satanic one, a being of 1000000010000 years old, had never found a friend. He had conquered land upon land, planet after planet. He was powerful. The most supreme being to have ever walked this plane of existence. Where he walked, he would rain fire and fury upon all of those pitiful souls who dare stood in his way. Bing bing, bong bong, went the fire and fury.

Yet, no friend. Not a single.

He was lonely. Oh, so lonely.

But he met someone at the bar, one day, the bar where he would frequent to pass out after drinking a pitcher of orange juice. ‘Met’, of course, debatable term. What was more accurate would be the furtive glance Shadowmaster stole at the entity who elected to sit beside him one fateful day.

Who, one may ask? Who would be so brave, so courageous, who would have the gumption to sit beside the supreme evil, the demon lord, Shadowmaster?

Who, just who? He must truly be a man of virtue, a warrior amongst warriors, one who fights for what is noble, just and right.

He was none other than Icarax (Shadowmaster).

Just thinking of Icarax (Shadowmaster) made Shadowmaster blush. He was the Shadow, one who could usurp the Godly Ones themselves? What did he see in the lowly Icarax (Shadowmaster)?

Perhaps it was ravishing top hat. Or the classy, oh so classy, cigar that slowly turned in Icarax (Shadowmaster)’s mouth. Nay, it must be the sunglasses. It seemed like Icarax (Shadowmaster) wore a different pair each time the lord of all demonspawn saw him; he must have at least fifty shades.

Suddenly, there was a knock on Shadowmaster’s front door. He had been standing in front of the door this entire time so he jumped a bit.

Apprehension and fear were not traits often associated with the most powerful demonic being the world had ever seen. Yet, Shadowmaster could not help but feel a twinge of suspense. Something was out there. Something behind that door…

Casting aside all doubts, the Shadow smartly rips it open, and lo and behold, Icarax (Shadowmaster) was standing there, with a heart-shaped box in one hand.

“For you, o Shadowmaster.”

Warily, the satanic prince of kings grasps the proffered box. Inside were delicate chocolates, sprinkled with confectioner’s sugar. His favourite.

“Shadowmaster,” Icarax (Shadowmaster) continued, “I have ah, noticed you, watching me.”

“Y-yes,” came the stammered reply.

“Could it possibly be that… you wish to be friends with me?”

Shadowmaster’s heart leapt with joy. At last, here was someone who understood him! Someone who resonated with him on a deep level! Someone who, in their heart of hearts, wanted him.

“Yes!” Shadowmaster repeated, with conviction. “Of course, Icarax (Shadowmaster)!”

Then Icarax (Shadowmaster) entered Shadowmaster’s house where they had a lovely candlelit dinner, became best friends, and lived happily ever after.

The End.