I was crossing the street and heading towards this big concrete building that lay in front of me. I wasn’t in Prospero right now, I was in some small industrial town in the southern tip of Germany.

My mood was pretty good today. I’d just returned from Uhrwerk and had my daily dose of coffee, sugar and good conversation. Things had thankfully started to simmer down concerning the world’s reaction to my show of strength during the Terran invasion. Life was good, my wife was happy, my girls were happy.

Samantha seemed to be behaving herself, and I’d created and assigned an entire fleet of FC-Units for the task of observing and “supervising” her activities.

Now I had one last thing to do, now that things were good and quiet.

“Surprise, mothafucka!”

I’d teleported into the building and released a pressure wave that would liquify the organs of any mortals and weak immortals present within the building. I followed this up with an explosion of violent and chaotic aura that would drain, and shred the souls of all my victims.

Today I was not fucking around. I fully intended to keep my promise of not doing things by half-measures. I had too much to lose now if I failed to handle my affairs properly.

Samantha's intel had proven reliable and once I knew what to look for the idiots who'd been plotting to banish me from my new home and seal me from this universe, had been almost stupidly easy to find.

What was even more useful were the connections between this plot and many others that were in the works. As a result, I'd been able to follow the spider to its web, and clean house, repeatedly. Saving the group that had plotted my banishment for last.

“You bastard!” roared a woman holding a golden sword and channeling a fast-flowing, high-grade, wind-ki.

I eyed her impassively. Instantly recognizing her as a cultivator, an immortal-ranked one. Absentmindedly noting her high attainments when it came to her understanding of the laws that governed the skies and the weather.

I briefly caught the scent of ozone. A fraction, of a fraction, of a second later, the woman rushed at me with the speed, and brightness of a lightning bolt. Her attack accompanied by hurricane force winds that would have torn the building apart had it not been built with immortal-grade, magical reinforcement.

It was a good attack, far from being text-book, it was a transcendental piece of artistry, that paid fitting homage to the art of the sword. It was also, far, far, too slow.

I bypassed the woman and killed the friend who’d been standing behind her, hurriedly chanting some kind of spell. The woman, herself, was already dead. Her sword fell to the ground as her body was reduced to an aerosolized mist by the cascade of kinetic energy that struck her as I passed her by.

The immortal mage’s head went pop right after the cultivator’s body was reduced to nothing. I made sure their souls suffered the same fate that their weaker compatriots' souls suffered.

I continued dealing with the stronger members of the organization until I finally reached the office of the man in change. One, Emerson Payne. He was 6-foot-two. He had skin slightly less dark than mine. He was tall but broad bodied, his figure covered in marvelous musculature. He had a wide face, with a pointed chin, and sensuous full lips. He had slanted brown eyes, and neat eyebrows. His hair was white.

I won’t bother telling you exactly who our dear friend Emerson was. Nor will I explain his organization. There’d be no point to that because I was here to make them utterly and thoroughly irrelevant.

“So it’s you…” said Emerson Payne.

“Yes, it's me...The one and only Monty Kaylan. You lucky bastard you,” I said. Nodding. A wide smile on my lips, my gaze hungry and filled with bottomless ill-intent.

“I don’t suppose we could talk about this?” said the man.

“What do you think....?” I said. My smile growing just a touch wider to the point of nearly bisecting my entire head. Allowing him a full view of my main glittering, razor-sharp teeth.

The man leaped out of his seat and over his desk. His movements were elegant, graceful, and athletic to the point of putting every gymnast who’d ever so much as straddled a pommel horse to an eternity of shame.

Then he struck out at me with fist clad with the laws of the cosmos and enough force to reduce our entire solar system to powder and extinguish the sun.

Fortunately, the first thing I did before entering the building was shifting the entire plot of land to a conveniently empty alternate-universe. The realities where all life in the universe meets its end are sadly numerous, but they’re also damn handy when you’re too strong to fight within the constraints of the planet you live, but still need to go all out.

As we drifted through the void of I blocked Emerson’s blow and responded with a punch of my own. Shifting his attack to the side and driving my fist through his back. He coughed blood, freeing himself from his impalement on my arm. He tried to run but I wasn’t having any of that. My eyes flashed red and a baleful white light fell down, or maybe up, from within the void. The light surrounded the man, reducing his body to nothing, and disintegrating his soul.

I returned to Earth, the real Earth, and took a deep breath as I stared at the crater that was left behind when I shifted the building. I turned my attention inwards ignoring the looks I was getting as I confirmed that my FC-Fleet had successfully dealt with the lesser bases, auxiliary caches, and cells of the group.

Then I teleported back home, so I could shower and change, because tonight I had yet another date I needed to go to.

*************************************************************************************************************

Three hours later I found myself seated inside a small Italian restaurant. A cozy little hole in the wall joint that was either named after the owner, or the owner’s dad, or grand-dad. You know the type.

Lately, I’d taken up the hobby of buying up small failing businesses and restaurants, replacing the staff if the failure was a staff problem, or just supplementing the equipment and resources if the staff was good. This wasn’t because I’d suddenly taken an interest in the city of Prospero’s economy and wanted to support all those mom and pop establishments. No, the real reason for my patronage of these kinds of restaurants was because it allowed me to have more control over my environment. It would be impossible for me to date comfortably if I had to contend with the number of prying eyes, that making a reservation at an establishment I didn’t own, would draw.

I still put up with it occasionally if I was with Margot, or the food was especially good, but otherwise, I liked having the home-field advantage and a little extra privacy.

In any case, I was settling in waiting for my date to arrive. Then I looked up and was shocked to see my second favorite red-head walk into the restaurant and fall into the seat across from mine.

“...Maci?” I said.

“Evening, Monty,” said Maci. Exuding a strange and imposingly intense aura, that was one part anxiety, two parts aggression. Like she was preparing for the fight of her life.

“Are...Are you my date for the evening?” I said. The strange atmosphere that surrounded the woman making me feel like a liquid mouse staring down a large thirsty cat.

“What do you think…?,” said Maci. Taking a sip of water that was being poured for us by the nearby waitstaff. Her eyes never leaving mine.