I took a sip of my wine and looked around at all the stuffy old men with their gold digger wives, political leaders, businessmen, and some, if not most, caught up in the second category. I was at another boring convention in Germany. The "party" was paused to center our attention on one man making a speech, hell if I knew whom. I was given a break from having to make idle chit-chat with the rest of the guests and I was savoring that precious time.
My eyes found their way up the stairs and fell on a man with an extremely strange walking stick-golden and curved upwards to cradle a glowing blue stone. He was twirling it, throwing, and catching it while he walked. I was so captivated by his movements that I didn't even realize that I was staring. When I came to my senses, I immediately looked up to the man's face, which was smirking down with almost black eyes in such a way that sent chills down my back and made my hair stand on end. He was looking at me-well, no. That would be too arrogant of me to presume. No, he was looking in my general direction, down at the west side of the ballroom.
I only got a glimpse of the chilling man before he reached the end of the stairs and crushed one of my security guards' skulls with the end of his walking stick, all the while staring at the crowd.