“Emperor Crowley, the charges have been set. Destruction will commence on your word.” He stands before Brutus with his hands folded in front of him, careful to be reserved in his presence. The emperor’s behavior has been… neurotic over the last few days. High-ranking ambassadors of foreign planets would enter and never leave. Days later, their corpses were burned on tall funeral pyres.
“Thank you.” Brutus waves the officer away as he picks up the briefcase that was previously leaning against the legs of the chair. Brutish thumbs pop the locks open, before whole hands pull the briefcase open. Inside simply is a button, a bright-red trigger for the charges.
“Emperor Crowley, we simply cannot collect any more resources for your empire. Your perpetual deforestation operations have run our planet dry, and I fear that if you proceed, our planet will become barren, nothing but an uninhabitable wasteland.” A tall species of alien stands before the Emperor’s desk, pleading with him to cease his deforesting operations on the planet Randiloania. He is among the natives of the planet, a sentient race of scaly, reptilian herbivores that fed only on the vegetation that grew on their lush planet.
“What makes your planet special?” Brutus raises a single question for the ambassador. He sits tall in his chair, like a goliath. His hands fold over one another as the ambassador speaks.
“Wh-what?” He sputters, flabbergasted at the very question. “We-we’re the only planet to grow aggro berries. Our trees are tall, nearly as tall as the skyscrapers of this great city.”
“That’s not unique. We have enough samples of your berries to grow several million bushes, as well as all of your plant-life. The only thing that is missing from our vast database is a sample of your DNA, the Reptilionus. We don’t want to cause the extinction of a race.” Brutus rises from his chair, towering over the reptilian ambassador. “Therefore, we require extraction. Plans to reap your planet of all her resources have already been executed. All that’s left is the destruction of your planet.”
In one quick move, the ambassador’s throat has been slit; purple blood oozing from the crevice in his neck. As it bubbles over the separated skin, Brutus places the letter opener back on the desk and removes a vial from his pocket, positioning it below the blood to collect it as it drizzles down to pool below the fallen corpse. When it’s filled, Brutus slides it back into his pocket and gives the corpse a grim look.
“Thank you, Adonis.” Brutus raises his head to speak to the AI in his conference room. “Voice, call for the scientists. We need skin samples before we can dispose of the body.” Brutus lowers himself into the chair, silently, as he contemplates his next move.
Before him, on the curved glass screen of his TV, a civilization is destroyed. Hundreds of planet-destroying nuclear bombs, all buried deep below the planet’s surface, simultaneously explode, shattering the planet’s surface like glass as the planet begins to collapse. All life on the planet is extinguished, like the flickering flame of a candle. Out like a light.
The destruction of a planet is oddly beautiful to him. The fires of destruction fill his lifeless gaze, but as he revels over the symphony of destruction he’d perfectly orchestrated, he’s interrupted by a message sent through the PA system in his office.
“Emperor Crowley, he is here to see you.”