Virago was coming.
He touched down in the middle of Stanley, Idaho, breaking open the general store with one gargantuan mauve tentacle.
The man inside ran out,screaming, and Virago impaled him on one of his feeder prongs and retracted him back into his gaping maw.
A crunch an(more)d a swallow, that's all he was in the end.
Inside, though, Virago was depressed.
He hadn't razed a world since Betelgeuze and that was many cycles ago.
Zoltron the Magnificent thought Virago was a wash-out, a failure. And Virago was starting to believe it.
Absentmindedly, he stuffed another school bus into his mouth and chewed distractedly. He'd lost his mojo, he had to find a way to-
And that's when he felt the tap on his toe.
It wasn't really a toe, it was a mass of spiky cartilage, but he still felt it, a gentle, insistent little poke in between two of the razor-sharp spines.
His thirty eyes, spaced evenly around his disklike head, panned down, down, down, and finally came to rest...
On a tiny female human.
Noticing that she'd caught his attention, she smiled, and waved, and spoke:
"Mister! What are you doing?"
Virago was taken aback.
Almost without thinking about it, he opened his mouth and his thunderous voice boomed out,
"Destroying this world."
Her eyes widened as she tried to comprehend this.
"Can I help?"
Virago didn't know what to say.
His eyes darted to the wreckage of the general store, and he extruded a delicate manipulator towards it.
And into her waiting hands he dropped a gigantic mallet almost as large as she was.
As he loomed there, towering to the stars, watching her pound ineffectually on the side of the school, he allowed himself a rare, very toothy grin. He was on a roll.(less)
The man looked every where, no exit in sight. Only the long corridor of rooms filled his sight. They're coming... There's no time, he thought to himself as he tried to multi-task his away out of another cornered situation. He held the small flash-drive in his hand as if(more) it was a time bomb ticking away, and he was going to try to shield its explosion within his strong, American grasp. As he ran down the hallway of the hotel he heard large, booming footsteps from the stairs, causing him to turn his head around and focus his attention on the armed men trying to reclaim their secrets. With his right hand holding the flash-drive the man pulled out the warm and clammy pistol resting in his jacket holster. He could feel the difference in weight due to the bullets he used to get the flash-drive in the first place, but what he had was enough to finish the job. As the first of three assassins crossed the threshold of the staircase the man shot two well-aimed bullets across the hallway hitting him in the stomach and shoulder, launching the now ceased victim backwards. As the man with the flash-drive advanced on the stairway door, the second and third enemies came through, one getting shot through the chest and crumbling down to the dull patterned floor. As the man with the flash-drive pulled the trigger, this time aiming at the final foe, he felt a searing pain that seemed to tear through his lower abdomen. He leaned to the wall in pain, his last victim falling to the ground, with a bullet through is neck. The man held the flash-drive tight, knowing that what he held in his hand would slowly push his enemies on a roll to hell.(less)