"This is the third instance of absolute destruction being wreaked across the world. This instance took place in China, as a massive portion of the great wall was completely destroyed in a massive light show last night. The culprit has still gone unidentified, though we suspect it's the same person behind the destruction of Machu Pichu and Wellington Arch. The same as always, despite the massive explosion that occurred, there was not a single burn mark no single piece of debris left at the scene. It's almost as if the wall was simply removed from reality."
Inside of the bar, the multiple TV's that hung on the ceiling played the same news broadcast. The past two nights, folks were greeted by similar broadcasts, for Big Ben and Machu Pichu respectively. All around, drunken and sober eyes were drawn towards the TV, as people began to express their true opinions.
"Another one? Just what is this!" A man shouted, slamming his fist into the table. His cheeks were a deep shade of red, and his melodramatic attitude served as a clear sign that he was more than just a little bit wasted. "Going around, destroying monuments of the world? Where they hell do these fuckers get off!" He reached for his cup, only for his hand to knock it over, sending it crashing straight into the ground. The cup shattered into pieces, and beer seeped into the wooden floorboards. Around him, the other equally drunk men laughed and jeered.
The man seemed to turn an even deeper shade of red as he told the men to, "Fuck off."
This entire situation was watched by one man. The man in the white suit. Inside of the bar, his impeccable white suit, flawless features and clean blonde hair stuck out like a sour thumb. A series of empty cups lay in front of him, a sign that he had drunken much more than a healthy amount. And yet the man himself showed no signs of it. His cheeks did not flush, and he showed full control over all of his movements. He set down his seventh cup, before muttering to himself.
"That damned violent bastard. I gave him free reign, but to do something so destructive and loud is a few steps away from stupidity. This must be the consequence of putting trust in anyone but myself." He tapped his fingers on the cold wood of the bar. In front of him, the bartender noticed the amount the man had drunken and decided to try and spark up a conversation.
"7 cups? Your one heavy drinker." He leaned against the table as he said this, wiping the wine glass in his hands with a towel. He was a man of medium build, and unremarkable features.
"You consider 7 cups a lot?" The man in the white suit responded, almost in disbelief.
In that moment, it was hard to tell who was more shocked. The bartender, who had just witnessed a man down 7 full cups of bear, and, with not a single slur in his speech, asked incredulously if that was considered a lot; or the man, who looked at the bartender who was shocked by the amount he had drunk, in pure disbelief. However, the short face-off was interrupted when the tv screen flashed to show a camera that overlooked the great wall of China.
In the darkness of night, the wall loomed imposingly in the background, looking down upon the hills which it stood on. For a few seconds, there was quiet, tranquility. Not even a wind disturbed the still scene. It was a calm before the storm. And just on time...
A massive flash of light covered the screen, as a section of the wall seemed to literally explode. The light covered a majority of the screen, but it was still possible to see the shadows it cast. horrifyingly enough, not a single piece of rubble nor debris was launched into the air. When the light cleared away, there was no smoke, no rubble, no flames, no sign that there had been anything standing in the gap between the two walls, and no sign that there had even been an explosion. The camera image cut back to the news reporters, as they began to speak.
"What a horrifying power." The man in the white suit commented.
The bartender raised an eyebrow. "What makes you so sure that it was a magician who did this?"
However, before the man in the white suit could decide if he wanted to answer or not, another voice answered for him.
"Isn't it obvioussss? That kind of monstrous feat could have only been pulled off by those devil scum." The overly loud volume of the voice, and the slurring of this person's words signified how drunk this man really was. It was the same drunk guy who had knocked over his glass. He had returned to the bartender to get a reveal. Paying no mind to the man in the perfect white suit next to him, he slammed his fist into the table.
"Going around and taking down monuments of human history, of how far we've come. To do what? Prove that their better than us?" He sneered. "To put fear in our hearts? To reassure us that they're the monsters we think they are and worse. What fucking bullshit." The man continued to spew his true, unaltered thoughts on the matter. With every sentence, the grunts and cheers of agreement grew louder. The man, invigorated by this support, continued to speak.
"They think that they're so much better than us, so much more advanced. The damned witches are just spawn of the devil. They weren't created in god's image, but in Satan's. They are the evil that plagued this world!" As the man seemed to reach the climax of his speech, the cheers around him also reached their climax. Everyone but the man in white and the bartender were screaming their agreement.
"What horrendously narcissistic ramblings." When the cheers had died out, and there was a short period of silence, the voice of the man in white could be heard. He said these words mercilessly, but directed his words at no one in particular, still tapping his fingers on the table. Their speed had increased.
"Whsts wazzz that?" The drunk man replied, wheeling around to face the man in white. He continued to speak.
"To claim to be those created in gods image. What narcissism. That kind of vain thinking is useless when put in the face of true power."
"Youzz got some'in you want to say?" The drunk man leaned in, trying to impose himself on the man in white.
"Your ego, your hubris, your overflowing pride absolutely disgusts me. You wretched vermin need to learn your place in this world, at the botto-" Before he could finish his sentence, a cup was slammed into his head, and then another, and another, and another, until all 7 cups that were laid out in front of the man had been shattered over the top of his head. The entire bar erupted into cheers once again at the show of violence. They wanted this man to shut up.
"Aint gotzz mussh to say now, do you? Fucking pussy." The man then grabbed a cup out of the hands of the person behind him, before dumping the liquid over the man in white suit's head. However just as he was about to smash the cup over his head, he froze.
In front of him, the man, who just had 7 cups shattered over his head, and beer poured onto of him, showed not a single sign of it. There wasn't a drop of blood on his perfect white skin. There wasn't a single sign of his hair, nor suit wet from the water that had been dropped unto of his head. In fact, his white suit, clean blonde hair, and flawless face were just as flawless as they had been before the assault.
The drunk man faltered, taking a step back in shock. "wh-" He never got that next word out though, because suddenly the man in the white suit had shoved his hand into his face. "Ahh-" The drunken man's scream was cut off.
Because at that moment his head exploded.
A shower of dark red blood and pink lumps flew out everywhere, dirtying the walls, the floor, and other people. Blood splattered over the face of the bartender. Blood dirtied everything but the man in white. His suit remained flawless. The blood that splattered unto him left no trace, and did not stick. His entire appearance remained flawless.
The man's headless body hitting the ground with a thump was the only sound that could be heard. It remained completely silent in the previously loud bar. Everyone was still trying to process what they had just seen. The man in white stepped forward, leaning down and beginning to rummage through the pockets of the dead man. The only sound that could be heard was the rustling of clothes. When he straightened himself, he seemed to be 10 times taller. Once again, despite searching a bloodied corpse, his suit remained flawless. He tossed the wallet that once belonged to a man who was now dead unto the table, in front of the frozen bartender.
He stepped over the corpse of the man, heading towards the door.
"Take that as your payment. You were the only one to remain humble, to not let your ego consume you."
And with that, the impeccable man in the white suit left the bar.