The Seat of Power
A Zatrion One-shot.
I gaze over everything I see. All the dregs bowing at my whims. My very name instilling fear upon those who know it My will is stronger than any thing the universe has ever seen, and those who gaze upon know that I am a god. And yet, it is not enough. Chaos runs rampant throughout the universe, and only I can bring it under the order it need. MY order. However, it requires something... something that I lack. To that end, I have searched for so long to find that single thing. So many years have passed, and my labors bore no fruit. But, at long last, this day shall see the end of this long odyssey...
It's an utterly normal place. A single person straightens his tie. Today was a big day, the biggest of this place's history. He checks over himself, twice and thrice, content with what he sees. "Rememer... A happy salesman sells." He takes a deep breath, smiles, and steps out to the showroom floor. "Hi! Welcome to Simon's Lounge Warehouse! How may I..." He immediately falters as he finally gets a full glimpse of his potential buyer. This man, if he could even be called one, stood tall over him, his hands clasped together behind his back. And the skin... grey, mottled... inhuman. And the figure turns. Those eyes! Those deep, red eyes, shining hellfire and damnation behind them. "Help you?"
He gazes down at this mortal. Such wear was unbecoming of such a slobbish person. The protruding gut... the terrible skin...the hairy forearms. It was... demeaning that he had to stoop to this level to achieve his goal. But no other could give him what required. "I am in need of something. Something fit... for a god."
"Oh... Oh!" Simon's face suddenly brightens up. "Oh, okay, then! I think I know what you're looking for. Please, follow me." He begins walking, and immediately the ground begins to quake. That was an impossibility, if it weren't for the... customer. However, he soon arrives at the spot. "There it is. Heh heh... exactly what one looks for when looking for something to fit a god. Now, this doesn't exactly come cheap, but we'll work with you to..." He pauses as he hears a dread buzzing. Turning around, he sees the customer's eyes glow with the flames of hell behind them. "No! Nononono! I can give you it! Just don't..."
The final words never come from Simon's mouth. Beams of light strike his form, and he vanishes, as if he never existed. The customer steps forwards and gazes at it, touches it. A dreaded smirk crosses his features. The sound of thunder, a shaft of pulsing light. The brightness of the store is replaced with a dark light, the smell of soot and the sounds of pain and flames. He places his boot upon a piece crafted of stone and steel, and with a single push, sends it careening towards a bottomless doom. At long last, the time has come.
Placing it where the crafted piece once was, he turns. The time had arrived.
Darkseid finally sits down, taking in the feel, the texture, the very smell of his new chair. His smirk is evident. "Perfect." No longer did he have to deal with the blisters and sores that came with his old throne.
Just a small little joke-fic about one of my favorite villains in the DC Universe and his obsession with sitting upon other people's furniture.