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Xeno
Xeno wandered through the ranch with his trademark look of silent arrogance. It was a look he perfected long ago to go with his character. smug, confident, smart. Xeno.
His long black cloak billowed with every step he took giving the illusion that he was bigger than he really was. The red cross fastened around his neck could suggest many things, perhaps he was religious? Or perhaps the red signified that he opposed religion? The effect was just what Xeno wanted; yet more mystique to shroud around his person. No definite answer made him seem even more frightening.
He was recovering from the malicious adrenaline that had seconds ago surged through his body. He enjoyed the fleeting moments of elation, it reinforced the idea he could do anything. It kept his passion alive.
He felt no guilt in the fact that he was far too calm to say he had just killed twenty men, the type of calm only a self titled psychopath could be. Xeno had no illusions about his mental state in fact he welcomed the title of psycho it gave him a sense of horror and above all it made people afraid. Very afraid.
Xeno sniffed at the stench that lingered in the air. Contrary to popular belief he didn’t enjoy the smell of corpses in fact it repelled him like everyone else. He encouraged the rumors nevertheless, it wasn’t in his ethos to be viewed as normal. It never was, and it never will be.
The scene around him was another matter, he truly did enjoy that. The horror stricken looks on the faces of the redneck cowboys delighted Xeno like a small child at Christmas. He enjoyed the way the bodies were bent unnaturally out of shape and skewed around as if they had been mashed together and then hastily reassembled. He loved the way black blood slowly trickled of the bar and tables to form small puddles in the cracks of the floor panels. He found real beauty in the way the furniture was completely destroyed and dotted all over the room as if an invisible hand had swept it aside with a flick of its wrist. These were the sort of things Xeno enjoyed. Creating chaotic scenes was one of his favourite pastimes.
He’d been lingering on the scene of his massacre for at least fifteen minutes lost in the beauty of destruction when his train of thought was abruptly shattered by the saloon doors being rudely kicked open. Xeno’s face became a mask of fury, he hated being interrupted; especially by gunfighters. Xeno despised the idea of guns, they were in his eyes a very boring unimaginative way to kill a man. What Xeno lacked in morality he made up for in imagination.
“Get out of there now or I’ll shoot, you filthy charlatan!” Screamed the angry cowboy.
“My dear boy, where are your manners, if you aim to kill me, challenge me to a duel. to shoot me in the back would be a cowardly way to kill a charlatan. For surely a charlatan has no real powers and therefore you have nothing to fear?” Xeno spoke in his quiet British tone putting contempt into into every word.
“You’ll do as I ask you, come out with your hands up!” His stupid southern american accent had a slight quaver to it which led Xeno to believe the cowboy doubted whether he was really devoid of power.
“Ah you see I have no intention of going anywhere with you and I am fine with where my hands currently are. Your only alternative is to overpower me, and drag me to your petty sheriff I urge you try” Xeno crowed, injecting all the mocking he could muster into his voice.
"I'm not gonna drag you; you're gonna come willingly" stuttered the vagabond in a last ditch attempt at intimidation.
"My dear boy, I grow tired of this game; you know as well as I do that I am not going to come with you unless the ocean dries up. So why must we entertain the notion at all?" Xeno enjoyed toying with the simple folk. He liked to watch their outer exterior crumble like bread. It was like tearing down a boring work of art.
"Look...maybe I'm not gonna do anything, but if Cassidy comes down here you're dead meat, so I suggest you leave now!" Xeno was not afraid of any cowboy this attempt at scaring him failed dismally. The boy seemed to know it.
"Look here, the whole town is gonna blow you apart if you don't leave now" blurted out the scared youth.
"Oh you underestimate my abilities" smirked Xeno.
"What the hell is wrong with you! Do you seriously think you can win a hundred to one fight when we've got guns and you're unarmed?" The cowboy was not only frightened, he was now perplexed.
"Oh my dear boy" whispered Xeno "I'm anything but unarmed"
"What-"
A blinding flash of light illuminated the saloon for a split second coupled with a deafening bang and the sound of the late cowboy's screams. Tables flew through the air to land twenty meters away with a crunch. And the saloon doors blew away to crash through the opposite buildings windows. The thatched roof tore away from the walls of the complex and toppled backwards into the beer garden. The walls caved inwards demolishing any evidence of a bar. The bear bottles smashed on the floor providing fuel for a fire that had sprung up on one of the corpses. The debris lit alight with the flame in seconds causing complete and utter destruction of the building.
Xeno stood in the heart of the fire enjoying the chaos he'd created. He did not feel the immense heat or cough from the thick black smoke. He just opened his arms wide and laughed as the flames roared around him. Xeno danced in the middle of his creation. He reveled in the feeling of immense power. And thanked the gods for letting him discover wormholes. Especially this one.
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