Fate's Design

A Much Needed Vacation

Nothing excited Lucifer’s second in command more than the thought of countless souls resigning themselves to the fiery abyss. As a little treat to himself, Abaddon decided to take a little vacation. Marin was nice and all and it provided him the status and reach he required for his job, but it was an emotionally shallow area and a creature of his vast age and background needed to get away and rid himself of the tedious masses from time to time. Maybe Rome? But no…too many tourists. Maybe Scotland or Wales. He enjoyed the dreary green of both places and the virtually complete solitude he could lose himself in while there. Or maybe some isolated island retreat where he could relax on a beach and clear his mind. There would be no work, very little human interaction, and hopefully as little thinking as possible. Just time to let his mind wander and empty. He pulled out the chair in front of his reclaimed oak desk and clicked the little silver mouse to wake up the large, flat-screened iMac in front of him.

As Abaddon sat, planning out his little getaway, he allowed himself to let his mind drift to the rolling green hills and stonewalls or sandy beaches and turquoise water of whichever destination he decided to choose. He'd allot himself a month or so where he wouldn't allow himself to work or even think about work. He would hike and stroll and drink and eat local food. He would remind himself of what existence used to be like in the beginning and how it used to require a demon to actually think in order to collect souls. The days where the world wasn't so damn interconnected and buying, selling, and trading souls required real prowess. He missed the hard sell when he would have to gain trust, yes make a human trust a demon, in order for a soul to come into the possession of Hell. It didn't used to be as damn easy as it was today. There used to be an art to it and he was the master of his art. Abaddon recollected the pitches he used to make, the weeks at a time he would stalk one specific human in order to understand the weaknesses that would enable him to make a deal. He remembered, fondly, a conversation he'd had with Oscar Wilde in a cabaret.

“Oscar! Just think of all the fun you can have in Hell! We have all of the best writers, musicians, and artists there. The best food…all of the best drinks too.”

“That's all well sir but what of Heaven?”

"Heaven? That place is boring! You don't want to be around a bunch of tea totaling, mindless drones playing f*****g harps all the time.”

“I f*****g hate harps! Hell it is then!”

“So? Do we have a deal?”

“Sir! I believe we do have a deal! In exchange for my soul you will make me a famous author and world renowned raconteur?”

“So I said.”

“Where do I sign?”

Those were the days. A demon could lose himself in the chase. Abaddon had landed more big time soul deals than any other ten demons combined could boast. He'd had a hand in securing the souls of almost every single bohemian artist that traversed Montmartre in Paris, all of the insane artists of every time period. He'd secured deals, as with Wilde, with all of the best authors. Abaddon ensured that Hell would always be ready for a party with the fiendishly mad musicians he'd gotten his claws on and all of the humans in between. His pride in what he'd done over the years made him yearn for and crave the intricacies of the old way of things. Humans used to be more difficult to persuade into selling their souls. There was a sense of honor among them and self-fortitude that kept them from folding to the demonic powers that be. Now, it was only too easy. Humans were lazy and unimaginative. They no longer feared a moral compass that pointed due South. They even embraced it. All that the vast majority of humans wanted these days was to get ahead. It wasn't good enough to be better off than someone else. They were constantly striving to tear down the people on the top, bottom, and everywhere between in order to boost up themselves. Now not all humans were like this, but the ones who were made easy targets of the rest. Of course there were a handful of humans who refused to give in to their more sinister desires, but they were few and far between and dwindling at an exponential rate. He'd grown weary of hearing people sell their souls in order to “make my country great again,” or “those damn people are ruining everything and I want them gone!”

Abaddon didn't mind taking a break for a while; and letting humans damn themselves was somewhat refreshing for once. He did, however, ponder the sustainability of this way of things. There had always been more or less of a balance to the number of souls going to each team, but with the drastic shift in perspectives that allowed humans to think they were doing the right thing by condemning and killing those who aren't like them had tipped the scales almost as far left as they could go. It wasn't his place to question Lucifer and he wasn't privy to whatever plan he had in store, but Abaddon could sense that if he wanted to enjoy his existence in the human world much longer then he had best do it now. There was an “end of days” feel to the way humans had been treating each other that gave the demon a strange feeling that was some combination of satisfaction, foreboding, bloodlust, and anticipation. This was Biblical stuff and if Lucifer had planned to start the Apocalypse then he would be ready to fight alongside all of the demons and souls that had signed up for an eternity of tours in Hell’s army. But first, he’d take some time to appreciate himself and everything he’d already accomplished alone and uninterrupted.  

There had been a time where Abaddon couldn't imagine the Apocalypse actually happening. The human world had been an exciting place and humans used to surprise the demon either with their propensity for evil or their innate desire to do good. It wasn't exciting or surprising anymore. It was as if the human race had been run and it was time for something new to happen. With the huge number of souls there were now in or at least promised to Hell, it was difficult to imagine that Lucifer’s forces wouldn't be victorious. There would be no way that Heaven’s constantly dwindling numbers could overpower the hordes of Hell; and unlike Heaven, He'll didn't care how many it lost in order to achieve victory. You see, souls were like gold to Heaven and Hell and as the old adage says, “whoever has the gold makes the rules.” Hell would go all in to win the war of wars and gain control over all of Heaven, He'll, and creation. Abaddon, like many demons, was a gambler and he would always align himself with whoever he thought would win. He had been waiting centuries for Hell’s chance to overthrow Heaven and this could finally be it.

It had been obscenely easy to create a political base that allowed for the type of mass obliteration of humankind’s morality. There was so much fear in humans, especially those in control of money and power that all he had to do was choose the people at the top who were the most afraid and therefore most easily persuaded to sell their souls. The ridiculous part of it was that these people were most emphatically followed, even revered, by the very people they looked down upon most. They were referred to with awe and devoutly followed by the less educated, the hardest workers, the people who were more afraid than those at the top, those who were even afraid of the very people in control, and the doomsday believers. The followers were so ragtag and widely spread out that their blind devotion caught like wildfire throughout the world. These so-called political world leaders and their insipid views oozed throughout society until everything was caught up in a gooey, sticky mess from which there could be no escape. Just that morning, Abaddon had heard something on the news that actually made him shiver. It was an interview with some politician or other and the man was explaining his view on racial equality.

“The problem with this country is that everybody is too damn sensitive! I am the only honest candidate because I'm the only f*****g one of them that will say what needs to happen! We need to stop babying the underachievers and lazy pieces of s**t that think they can get a free ride out this country. And if they don't agree with it they can go back to wherever they or their monkey ancestors came from!”

There was no more tact in the world. There was so little good, so disconnected that it was being swallowed up into the darkness. The only thing to be done now was to burn it all down and start over again. This time, things would be different. This time, Abaddon was sure, Hell would have its chance to be victorious.

What many people don't understand is that Hell isn’t just about fire and brimstone and eternal damnation, although that is what it is most commonly associated with in human minds. Hell is about giving into your desires and letting them work for you. It's about the autonomy to think for yourself and do what you want instead of being pigeon holed into something that forces you to go against your instinctual drive. It doesn't judge you or discriminate you. Hell is a freedom of expression, the voice that says, “Go on and be yourself. Damn the rest of them.” The constructs of Heaven and organized religion will have you believe that Hell is nothing more than a fiery pit of doom where people who cannot control themselves within the acceptable stratification of what is “good” and “right.” But Hell is so much more than that. It is the paradise for the outcast and downtrodden in Lucifer’s mind. It is the opposite of Heaven with its strict rules and tightly enforced regulations and carbon copy angels always doing everything they’re told. It is the ideal. Hell is about free will for all and never having to apologize for who you are, no matter the consequences.