In a vast swath of empty space a tear in reality opened, ripping the nothingness asunder and filling the void with an unfathomable power. It hung like a Sword of Damocles, promising power beyond reckoning and death by the billions. A command was issued and the sword began to fall.
Zavier sat just outside his garage, absently petting the feral Siamese cat that had resisted all attempts at domestication by everyone in the neighborhood. Although sleek and elegant, she had the well muscled frame of a lioness that hunted for her dinner, only deigning to visit the houses when she wanted affection and treats. Zavier gave her the attention she demanded with one hand while scrolling through cooking videos with the other. The neighborhood potluck was coming up and he wanted to prepare something special. His skills with the smoker were well known and he loved nothing more than feeding people. He set the phone down on the small folding table and picked up the lit cigar, puffing gently while looking around the bucolic cul-de-sac. The neighborhood was pretty standard Wisconsin - comfortable middle-class houses with well manicured lawns, backed by miles of woods and farmland.
It was quiet here, the light buzz of insects overpowered by the purrs of a neighborhood cat sprawled on warm concrete. Zavier took a sip of the beer next to him and leaned back with a sigh of contentment.
Damned good day today, he thought, just as the red mist started falling.