A fancy five star

To say it was a disaster was a bit of an understatement. It had started well enough as the staff came in the morning and went about their work, doing their jobs to make sure everything was ready for the customers coming to eat later in the afternoon and evening. There was no problem with the customers when they did come. No problem with the supplies, as they got delivered by trucks on the back, and they got everything they needed to serve the finest goods in Gotham.

There was no problem with the bouncers up front and the security of the clients who liked to dine at their establishment as they usually did. The private security the richer diners brought usually disagreed with the bouncer on what they were allowed to bring in to defend their bosses with usually. But that hadn't happened today, and now one had gotten to drink and made a nuisance of themselves, which could be a bit of a problem.

Either they caused a scene that ruined their restaurants ambience or they were of a dangerous sort and they had to let them make nuisances of themselves less they get offended and those on the staff that offended them never be seen again. So when a man was walking up to the bouncer like he had come straight out of a Renaissance fair, the bouncer wasn't quite sure what to do. Now since the bouncer was trained well, he could tell the strangely clothed man wasn't packing any weapons and therefor wanted a threat.

So that meant he didn't have to deal with him in a brutal matter, and since they were a public restaurant, if only technically he didn't have a reason to turn him away until he actually closed and he could finally tell if the robed man was just a crazy person, if so he could send him packing easily enough; if not, and he was one of those eccentric tycoon sorts, then he would have him wait a moment. Well, he got a manager to deal with him.

Having come up with this plan, the bouncer waited at the podium for the strangely dressed man to approach, but he didn't, which meant he was left in a bit of a pickle. Does he, the bouncer, approach the robed man to see what exactly he is doing, allowing for the possibility of someone sneaking behind him, or does he sit here and wait while the stranger in the robe does whatever he is doing beneath his yellow and red mage robe?

The bouncer eventually decided after turning the problem over in his head to call out to the robed man and go from there. If he spoke like one of the socialites, he would welcome him in and let his boss deal with him; if he sounded like a mad junkie, he would send him packing. Having come to a solution to his new dilemma, the bouncer opened his mouth wide and was about to shout to the man in the robe to approach the podium.

That's when a ball entirely made out of ketchup, twice the size of a head, clocked him in the face, sending him to the ground. The robed man then bolted past him as he tried to make sense of what the fuck just happened. He then heard screaming coming from inside and someone shouting out repeatedly. "Ketchup ball." Or "mustard ball." Like it was some weird discount version of Fireball, the bouncer eventually came in to the restaurant and found sheer, unadulterated chaos.

The robed man was sending dozens of the same balls of flying mustard or ketchup just like he had at him earlier, and when he wasn't doing that, he was shouting out, "I am the condiment wizard." The private security and his fellow bouncers were trying to get him, but they kept getting in each other's way. As well as the fact the constant barrages of Mustard and Ketchup balls kept sending both the security and the regular diners to the floor by the time someone finally bailed the bastard, this circus had been going on for over an hour.

This guy should be dead, as he had been pelting everyone, including both the Mafia bosses and their hired muscle, who were very eager to snap his neck. But the utter chaos has made so much noise and drawn attention, which meant the moment they actually got him, they had to turn him over to the cops, who were waiting not five feet away, also covered in ketchup and mustard like the rest of them.

Though as the manager sat there at one of his ruined dining tables looking at all the damage he wondered how long the condiment wizard would last as the local crime dons would surely could even fit the humiliation they suffered today. But that didn't matter to him; he was ruined; his restaurant was destroyed, and with how pissed the dogs were for this even happening, he was pretty sure he would have to worry about his finances because some time tonight he would be sleeping with the fish.

He looked across the table at the bouncer and the other waiting staff, who all looked back at him with the same look that said they all knew they were boned and there was now way out. "Well, I'm getting the good stuff out of the back. When they come for us, we will get too fucked to know when we are dead." The manager declared giving his workers hope—not that they'd live but that at least they get to have one last good time before they die.