On a planet far from Earth, huge skyscrapers would reach up to an alien sky. Crowds would swarm through the streets, in these streets fortunes were made here, and lost just as quickly, people were born in these streets, and they died just as quickly. This was the capital of the empire.

In the tallest of all the skyscrapers, was the king. In a richly lit room he lay, he would drink from a cup of water, and dine on a meal of the finest delights this galaxy could offer. To the people he was like the sun, everything orbited around him, and as long as this cruel man never noticed your presence, a happy life could be eked out in this world.

Besides him, smartly dressed, and with lipstick suggesting her gender, was the closest thing that the king had to an assistant. “My lord Coola,” she would wait for Coola’s response before continuing.

Coola would carefully down the delightful food with some water, and after a few seconds he would hold a hand up, the signal for her her to continue.

She wouldn’t waste a moment, “the planet of Imack complains that the taxes are too high,” she would pause as she waited for Coola’s response.

“Oh? They do?” Coola would purr, as he took a sip from his water. “They get greedier by the day; do they not know what I give them? Is it too much for a war effort to be funded in exchange?” The King would ask to no one in particular. With one hand he would cut into the tender meat, until it was small neat chunks of meat, and with his other hand he would spear the meaty chunks with a silver fork before depositing them into his mouth.

He would chew the food in his mouth, “it matters not, plunder the economy of every last cent and blow up the planet. They’ll serve as another great example for my empire.” He would order.

“As you wish m’lord, the order will go out within the hour.”

“Anything else?” He’d ask as he plopped another morsel of meat into his mouth. Coola would feign an attitude of nonchalance as he asked his question, it was like a cat asking the mouse how well the cheese tasted. “Annnnything important?” He’d press on.

Recognising the signs of her kind, his assistant would know that she was walking on very thin ice. And with a feeling of utter suspense, she would do her duty. “Yes, the Rebellion has amassed a large attack, they have hit a number of major shipping ports of the empires.”

The glass would shatter in Coola’s hand, and water would drip out of his fist and onto the table. “I’m full, would you take the plate out of here?” He would let the glass pieces drop from his hand and litter the table.

His assistant would bow deeply as she took the food from the room.

The King would pace back and forth across the room. With a growl he would enter his balcony. Coola would breath in the cool air, and lean on the railing, standing still he would stare down at his everlasting kingdom, his pride and joy.

But his pride and joy were threatened by the day. He would chuckle darkly, the so called Rebellion were nothing more than a pack of cowards, unwilling to accept that the universe was ruled by the most powerful. Coola’s fist would smash into the railing, breaking it. They were infuriating! They’d make grandiose attacks before slinking back into the darkness with their tails behind their backs.

The more he thought of them, the more worked up he got. Coola would suddenly chuckle bitterly as he recognised what was happening to him, “how childish I am! The first sign of opposition, and I’m nothing more than a toddler!” The King would begin to levitate off the balcony, he needed to deal with this anger, it was no help to anyone, and to him the best way of achieving that would be through a walk. It beat being cooped up in his throne room all day.

In his city, the crowd stopped as they spotted a small purple speck in the sky. It was recognisable, but it was the last thing anyone wanted to see. The news spread like wild fire across the people, silence would reign for the first time in the cities lifetime, and quietly they would scramble back to their homes, or the sewers, anything to avoid the king’s gaze.

But they were all lucky, Coola had no interest in them, he didn’t even spare a single gaze to their desperate escape. In his mind he believed that all walks must have a tangible destination, so he would pick out the fanciest penthouse, and with the ease of a man who owned the world he would break into it. Looking around the fancy room, The King chuckled. How droll it was compared to the delights that were offered to him with the snap of a finger, he would think. But it was a change of pace compared to the norm.

Humming he’d tap a lantern, and it’d fall of shattering into the ground. “Whoops.” The King would look around, and on the edge of his vision he’d see something cowering. “Now, who could that be?” Coola asked himself, already knowing the answer. He’d stride towards the cowering figure. Obviously who Coola approached was the owner, and the one who previously been enjoying his time within his own house before Satan on Earth had broken in.

Meekly he’d look up towards Coola. “H-hello.” He’d spit out a greeting from his dry mouth. The King would stare down at him, horrifyingly, the millionaire would realise he didn’t even have Coola’s full attention, it was as if the king was staring through him and into the floor itself.

“Yes, yes, yes, what’s your name?” Coola asked half heartedly as he strode towards where he presumed the kitchen to be.

“Uh, Salza..” The Millionaire stuttered, as he twiddled his thumbs while hugging Coola’s shadow. This whole scenario was a complete nightmare, a one in a million chance, he should be waking up in a cold sweat right about now!

But as Coola poured himself a glass of water, Salza would realise that the chances of this being a dream being slim to none…

“What a boring name.” Coola’s finger would swirl the water in his glass, his eyes still on Salza. A smile would slide onto his features, he enjoyed this. He enjoyed Salza’s bumbling terror at his mere presence, if he threw a half hearted punch Salza might just wet himself! He missed the feeling of pure terror on this surrounding him, all his assistants, all his soldiers had gone numb to it from overexposure.

Coola would begin to sip on the water, enjoying the icy taste. Salza would play with his hands, his eyes were on anything but the Coola. Would a man like Salza ever grow use to him? Coola would ask himself, he was rich, yes, but his power could come from his inheritance. A lack of experience always softened the soul, and it was obvious that Salza didn’t have any real grit to him. Most ironically, Coola would be totally incapable of seeing that with himself.

It’d be time for a test. “What do you think of the war going on?” Coola asked casually, his lips still wet with water. “Answer how you would, otherwise I throw you off the building.”

Salza’s complexion would pale completely, looking more like a corpse than any living being. And depending on his answer, he very well could become one. “I…” He gulped, “I-I’m very curious as to why the r-resistance owned planets don’t contain any intelligent species.”

Silence shrouded the room, Coola would turn open the tap, and pour himself another drink. “An excellent response!” He’d congratulate, sipping on the water. He nearly crapped his pants, but that fear made him comply completely, the king would lightly chuckle. “You know; I’d appreciate if you were to live in my palace. I can’t keep showing up at this squalid little place, can I?” Coola would drink the glass of water, and leave the penthouse the same way he came.

Salza stood still, before slumping over as he fainted.