yonderland but it's not yonderland.

A New Plan

Voltari sat down on his black velvet chair, sighing and placing his chin on his hand, finally having a moment to relax. The overlord hadn't stopped fretting and preparing all day. Despite the rebellion being started, he hadn't been called to action just yet. Was it because he wasn't good enough? Was it because he had been forgotten? Or a simple case of miscommunication?

Sitting up straight again and sipping at his coffee, Voltari mumbled to himself. He hated being forgotten or not being involved with what he loved most (which happened to be death, destruction and chaos). It gave a sense of failure, indecency, distaste. Who knows what the other overlords were saying about him at that moment? The thought caused him strife alone. Slamming his cup back onto the table, Voltari stood up quickly and walked out of his house, his monochrome hair flowing behind him, like his dark black cloak. He was just about to escape his home premises, when a sudden voice caught him off guard.

"Voltari, dear. Where do you go so soon?" It was a drawling, sappy with love voice. The voice of his co-worker, (and fiancee - though no-one else knew - they would be in big trouble..) Dissectus. A striking, well-built man in his late thirties. Pale and dastardly, his shockingly deep brown eyes cut through anyone who dared look at him. His lips were devil red, accentuated against his paper white skin. Voltari turned around, hands by his sides, annoyed. Having just had his plan disrupted, he was not in a better mood than before. Dissectus didn't seem to care, just staring at his lover with a slight smirk on his daunt face.

"Look. I'm finding out why I haven't been called to action, you prick. So if you stop me from going any further, I will get mad, you understand?" Voltari snapped. Dissectus chuckled.

"Ah.. you're so cute when you are mad.." the opposite overlord smiled venomously. Voltari frowned, irritated beyond belief. Muttering a small 'whatever', he rolled his eyes and got off to action, teleporting away from his abode and Dissectus. He'd sort out their situation later.

***

The abode was dark, barren. Smoke plumed from the most unexpected directions, putting Voltari off. Scoffing, he continued to walk forward. Dick really needed to work on the place..

Talking of 'Dick', along he came. A grand man, around his late thirties with a castaway mop of blonde hair sat on his head. The colour aquamarine blue was to be seen everywhere, on his cloak, on his shirt and even the colour of his small eyes.

"Ah, back at work, I see? So soon.." Dick remarked - an obvious statement to make Voltari irritated more than he was already.

"So soon? I think you'll find I haven't been called to action. I've waited, Dick. I have waited," by this point, the overlord couldn't keep the venom of his jealousy hidden in his deep, intoxicating voice. Dick just chuckled, making Voltari's anger bubble up inside of him like lava, quick, red, about to spill. But. He had to keep his cool. No way he could get into a fight with this man. Though a blood-thirsty, vampirish, heartless creature, Voltari could never take on the ruler of the overlords. As much as he was tempted, the price that came with doing so would be so extreme that perhaps it would of been his life instead.

"Of course you have.. but dear, dear me.. you don't seem like much of a fighter, young Voltari.." Dick shrugged. "Perhaps reporting would be the best option for you."

"You've seen me crush realms! Destroy lives! Kill countless people!! And this is what you do?! You don't even call me to battle, and when I show up because I think I'll actually be of use, you throw me into an office instead?!" Snapping, his anger completely boiled over. In the blink of an eye, Voltari's fist shot out, and into Dick's face, knocking him out.

Seems he'd broken the no damage to the leader rule. Might as well continue.

Falling to the floor, Dick yelled out. But Voltari didn't stop there. Kicking, punching, screaming was all the two could manage. Fighting like bratty children, however who had the power to kill eachother if they wanted - but with disastrous results. But at that fleeting moment, Voltari couldn't think straight.

Heel on Dick's chest, Voltari stared down with his one, deep eye.

"I'll give you three seconds to give me a good reason not to kill you."

Dick didn't speak.

"Three."

No response. Digging in further.

"Two."

Just a little more-

"One."

And the spiked heel punctured the skin.  The pleasure of the blood spill overwhelmed him, and Voltari grinned savagely.

No-one could control him now.