Care to Ride My Hot-Rod Fell Beast?

She was trouble with a capital T. He knew it the moment she sashayed onto the field of battle, all butch in her borrowed armor and little-girl determination. Sweet, but mean: just how he liked them. Something about a woman who used “Death!” as her battle cry really did it for him. Such were his weaknesses.

She’d arrived with an older dude, but Angmar didn’t mind a little competition. He prepared to off the geezer, but found himself oddly turned on when she wiggled her way between them. Threesome! Rowr!

“Do not come between the Nazgul and his prey,” he winked. As a line, it was kind of lame, he knew. He playfully swiped at her with his giant evil-imbued flail. She saucily flashed her little sword at him. Minx!

“No man can kill me,” he bragged. This always seemed to impress the ladies. He added his signature “Now, die!” -- his cleverest euphemism for ‘take off the tin can sistah, and let’s get rowdy.’ Alas, alack, she misinterpreted.

Plus, apparently she’d already hooked up with the armored teddy bear behind him. Teddy pricked; Cutie poked; Angmar sighed.

Yep, Trouble, he mused as he distintegrated. The cute ones always were.


----
AN: Oh, no, Rhaps! I just re-read the challenge, and it's supposed to be only 100 words, not double-drabble-length. This is, I think, my first double-drabble ever: I just didn't want to limit Angmar's Smarm. May I leave it? Pretty please? With goo on top?