"Leave me."
The business woman stared blankly, cut off in the middle of her speech.
"S-Sir?"
Red eyes connected with her own for the briefest of seconds. The sharply dressed woman turned pale, unable to move her gaze away from that piercing stare, the stare of a God looking down upon an ant and finding it wanting. She left hastily, a messy pile of papers and folders clutched in her white-knuckled hands.
The man - no, it would not be just to compare him to a mere man. The King lounged in his chair, something that, to all others, would be comprised of the very finest materials available. He found it lacking. The room where he resided, inlaid with gold and amber, built from cedar and marble, was found by his judgement to be basic, even though he had it constructed to his exact commands. Rising from his chair, Gilgamesh, He Who Surpasses All Other Kings, found the very existence of this building to be repulsive to him.
Passing by the reception desk, Gilgamesh gave but one command to the harried staff.
"I find this place ugly."
Such a phrase would be vague coming from anyone but Gilgamesh - when he found something ugly, it was immediately removed from his sight. The orders of the King were absolute. As soon as Gilgamesh emerged from the glass doors of the skyscraper, a limousine pulled up to the curb. Not tacky, black, with tinted windows, and a driver that was completely loyal to Gilgamesh (as all are, though some do not recognize it). The driver turned around as soon as Gilgamesh slid into the leather-seated car. His "Where too, sir?" was interrupted by Gilgamesh's command.
"Drive."
The limousine took off with a purr, skillfully weaving through traffic. Gilgamesh considered traffic lights unsightly, and was in the process of having them removed from the city. As such, his limousine did not stop even once during the journey, only coming to a halt when Gilgamesh gave the word. The driver immediately sprung out of the limousine and opened the door for "Mr. King", as expected of a commoner. Gilgamesh left the car without a second thought.
With a lazy jump, he had covered six kilometers, landing atop the roof of a building with unmatched grace. Taking a single step forward, The Original King surveyed his kingdom. It smelled of the foul stench of modernity. Humans that had once been so strong, so powerful, now sat and waited for everything to come to them. The consumerist life style had sullied the world, his possession.
In this city he had thought it was not so. Conflict brewed on the streets. All manners of creatures roamed the city, a worthy test for any warrior. And yet, even in this place, humans could not dare to do so. They hid in their fragile houses, never stayed out after dark, pretended that nothing out of the ordinary went on around them as they lived their rabbit-like lives.
The King of Heroes was sickened by this decay, this rot that had grown in the heart of the humanity that he loved so. Gilgamesh had only rarely appeared to the public that was no longer worthy to see him, so disgusted was he with their cowardice. His lips drew back in a sneer.
"Mongrels."
Looking to the horizon, Gilgamesh noticed someone, another who wore armor of gold and with hair that was pure white. Gilgamesh recognized him on sight, and would give him the honor of speaking to the King. A hero of the ancient age was infinitely better than those who walked upon the ground of this city today. With another step, Gilgamesh landed behind the figure. He had no doubt that the Indian hero knew he was there. Gilgamesh, bestowing the honor of conversation upon one of the rare few that deserved it, spoke first, as a King should.
"What troubles you, son of Surya?"