[i] "Today, in World News. United States President Donald Glover said that the bombings in New Israel would not be tolerated. He has enacted plans to counter the Christians assaults with peace keeping missions. 

North Korean Queen Fook Yu's second son was married, giving him a fourth wife in what has become the central location of Mormonism on the planet. 

And finally, tech conglomerate Facebook has decided to shut down their social media presence, after it was discovered to be a den of pedophiles and black marketeers." [/i] 

The television snapped off with the click of the remote, and the barman turned from it. His grunt showed his disapproval, considering he was probably one of the pedophiles using Facebook most often. The denizens of the bar didn't care, many of them were too drunk to have told you their own names. The raucous laughter of the crowd drowned out any individual conversation. Hard men, these were. Gangbangers and thugs, men who came back from their personal and governmental wars changed. They were here because this place was dark, drab, and the bartender didn't cut you off when you were too drunk to walk. 

The drinks just kept coming, and they kept drinking. They all seemed to fit in pretty well, though in the far corner, nestled into a booth with a couple girls and a fella holding a pair of dice, sat one who stuck out like a sore thumb. His flowing grey hair, long enough to rest in the mid of his back. The way his eyes sparkled, despite the iris holding no semblance of color. The way his lips upturned to smile a smile that never touched his eyes. He was cold, and he was hard - but he didn't fit in. The other members of the bar paid him no mind, though sideways glances in his direction were frequent. 

Probably to get a glance at his sword, the behemoth weapon rested on the wall behind him - leant there with its tip buried a full inch into the hardwood floor. The man's cold eyes checked each person in turn, catching their gaze before they even decided to look it seemed. A perfect mirror of their actions. It unsettled them, and their eyes averted almost immediately. It was a loud night at the bar, but it was interrupted pretty quick. And in a pretty horrible way. 

The door thundered off its hinges, breaking a table and breaking the neck of the poor old fool who sat there. The man was a member of the bar's regular crowd. Well liked, well regarded. He was a friend to everyone, even newcomers felt some sense of comfort around him. A great tragedy his death was, and it riled the anger in many of them when the door tumbled on him. The surprise of it notwithstanding, everyone immediately became on edge. Hands clenched into fists, conversation stopped. Everyone turned their eyes to the door, except the white-haired man with the giant sword. He watched the rolling die on the table, They tumbled, end over end, for a few seconds before coming to a rest. 

[i] "Snake eyes, you lose" [/i] he whispered, lifting his glass and taking the amber liquid in - draining it all before swallowing. Finally, he turned his attention to the man at the door - his long-winded pause meant for effect having no affect. He met the others gaze, as the words left his lips. His hand canted to the side, trying to remember if he'd ever met anyone who bore any faint resemblance to someone as ugly as this guy was, before something clicked. 

[i] "Uh...you're not from around these parts, eh, Pundambayan? You know these people don't even know what faster than light travel is? Much less would they have had any dealings with a race as isolated as your own. Now...I don't  [b]think[/b] I'm the one who killed him....but honestly, I've killed a lot of people. I mean...[b] a lot [/b] and all the ugly ones kind of bleed together." [/i] 

His body turned as he spoke, shifting so that he could let one knee pull up on the cushion of the booth - his back against the wall and one arm draped over the back. The hilt of Caldecise sat within easy reach, but for a man such as him he could have reached it easily even if it were on the other side of the country. As he spoke, his words seethed with venom. Not at the man for wanting vengeance, but for interrupting his good time. The cock-blocking son of a bitch was definitely going to end up paying for that, if he didn't turn right around and leave. 

He could have said as much, but he preferred the diplomatic approach these days. [i] "Now, considering you're clearly not on my level, and these people couldn't have possibly left the surface of this planet to have been anywhere near your reclusive bunch of pathetic, ignorant people. I'm going to give you this one chance. Get out. While you can still move under your own power." [/i] 

As he spoke those final words, the room seemed to darken. Shadows shimmered, shifting and moving in ways that weren't possible - and yet seemed to be just that. The sword forged in the blood of stars sat at the ready, though he doubted he'd need to rely on the particular strength it would offer - bolstering his own magic and might to Godlike levels was, often, overkill. Not that he didn't like a bit of overkill from time to time, but why bother wasting his energy if it wasn't required.