Songs Into Stories: MastermindA black midnight strikes and with it comes the winds of malevolence. They howl dreadfully like a pack of hounds from hell, desiring to bite any poor creature that would dare to wander outside at their mercy. In fact, there was a lone figure defining the harrowing breezes, veiled in a dark cloak. Carrying a bucket filled with ice, he hurried among the corpses of abandoned buildings to find the one he had taken as his lair. A cold rain started to pour from the black sky while the man was on the move, causing him to move faster. The shrieks of the wind sounded outright eerie and sinister as they blew throughout the area of forsaken buildings that were left to rot, sounding like cries of spirits. The man had seen apparitions during these many years, so it wasn't farfetched to think that these grounds were haunted. Such a reputation was totally fine with him; it would keep most curious eyes away and not meddle with his work. Through the labyrinth of rust and debris, he eventually managed to reach the building that was in decent shape, at least when compared to its decayed brethren. A weak light above the entrance was trying its best to cast away the surrounding darkness, but was barely able to do so. It kept flickering in an unnerving way, sometimes going out for several seconds. Still it managed to guide the man to this huge warehouse. He opened the rusty metal door that let out a horrible creak as he forced it to move; it almost sounded like somebody had screamed. Once the man had passed through its frame, the metal door became a guardian once more, closing behind the man with a loud thud. The warehouse concealed a terrible secret. A huge part of the building was occupied by a noisy machine, the finest work of the man, although it wasn't perfect. Most of the metal pieces were covered in rust and there were many spots that were either sparking or smoking. The whole contraption looked like it could fall into pieces at any moment. But against all odds, it still stood there firmly, waiting for the moment when it would be able to unleash its powers and fulfill its purpose. It was a doomsday device. The man had been working on it for years, in the solitude of his warehouse. He was a genius, though not one of a sane kind. With this machine, he would make the whole world kneel before him and he would rule as the supreme lord. He could see this grand vision in his mind, and had been seeing it for years now. He wasn't like the other miserable dwellers of the world, he was different. Once the machine would be completed, he would claim the world as his own. And he had tried, tried so hard to be one with the masses, but hadn't felt comfortable in his skin of false fellowship, especially after the tragedy took his dearest away from him. Now bitter and hateful, he shed this skin like a snake and strived to become the one who would mold this world anew. One strike of the heaven's fire was the last thing he needed for his machine to come alive. For this purpose, he had installed a long and crude antenna on the roof. It was reaching for the heaven like a hideous mechanical hand, desperate for power. The genius was looking upwards, gazing at the black heaven through the couple of windows there were in the ceiling. The rain was starting to pound harder on the glass and he pondered if a storm was approaching. The water from the sky was relentlessly tormenting the warehouse and the gusts of wind were growing stronger, violently toying with the antenna. Still, it was able to remain there even at the mercy of the black heaven. The genius held high hopes that night for it really seemed like he would get the final powerful touch that would make his visions of greatness real. He opened a hatch in the machine and emptied the bucket of ice in there, then he observed the weather, staring at the windows above him. He waited and waited, but he wasn't exactly the most patient man in the world. The harsh wind and rain were there, causing some sort of storm, but there was no lightning, the one thing he required. He was pacing around the warehouse for a while, but he needed something to do. He noticed that a part of his machine was barely functioning, the cogs were loose, and so the genius grabbed his tools and started to work on the doomsday device. However, one thing led to another and soon it occurred that he was dismantling the grand machine, bit by bit. It wasn't as perfect as he wanted. The warehouse was getting more and more quiet as he tore the device into pieces, only the clanking of metal echoed within the confinements of the building. The truth was that this machine wasn't the first one he had created and it wouldn't be the last. During his years in solitude, the genius had built many different versions of the doomsday device, mostly following the same pattern but some of them being slightly different. Perhaps this was because of perfectionism. Or maybe just a result of his mind's obsession with being occupied. He was stuck in a cycle, building a device he could use to conquer the world, just needing to capture a single strike of lightning in order to unleash the machine's potential, but he would never be able to wait long enough for that to happen. He had a brilliant mind for sure, but it was also his biggest downfall. Constantly getting distracted and bored, he would repeat building the machine, only to break it down a while afterwards. For years the genius had been doing the same thing over and over again. So many years later he managed to finally realize this. The warehouse was eerily silent since all the sounds of the machine were gone. Shadows were lurking in every corner, kept in their spots by the flickering of lights. The outside world was engulfed by darkness, and so was the mind of the genius. He was on his knees on the cold floor, holding his head and crying, while the broken metal was scattered all around him, their stillness telling the tale of his ultimate failure. All his tools and the pieces of machine, they were all the same, just useless debris with no function in their shattered form. Years of work. He had sacrificed so many years of his life into making the machine, but for what? He didn't even want to rule anymore. A portion of his life, wasted just like that, having all these visions of grandeur, but losing his desire to make them reality. Bitter tears in his eyes, he just wished he could go back in time and prevent himself from wasting all these years. An idea sparked in his mind. While the last of his tears were rolling down his face, he stood up from the floor. He could do that, go back in time. He was a genius after all. He would make the impossible possible. The genius rushed to his worktable to scribble down blueprints. A little bit of designing, a little bit of time and he would be able to travel back to the days when he hadn't yet wasted his potential. He committed to this project completely, nothing else mattered. Once he was fully focusing on something, he couldn't think of anything else. Eating or sleeping, he barely allowed himself to enjoy these necessities. Day and night he worked on his newest device and if it worked, it wouldn't be his last one. He scavenged new tools from the neighboring buildings, finding just enough and in decent condition for him to wield. But it's not like anyone would miss them anyway; they were left to decay. Now they would aid the genius in his finest work yet. And one evening, it was done. The genius looked at the object that now lay on the worktable, on top of the blueprints that had given the start for its existence. He felt rather surreal as he stared at his new device, but he was also proud of himself, even though he wasn't sure if it was going to work or not. But he was quite confident that it would function as it should. The object didn't really look like much; it was a rusty cube with wires and screws sticking out of it and was the size of about an alarm clock. Inside its core, it let out a blue shimmer. The genius was admiring his own work and he carefully picked it up from the table to give some late inspections on it. He eyed the cube thoroughly, but didn't find anything that should be fixed. It was ready to be used. He stood up from his seat and held the cube with both hands delicately as if it was the most fragile thing – though it would be a major setback if it happened to break. The genius let his gaze wander around the warehouse, feeling oddly sentimental about all this, like he was leaving and never coming back. But maybe that was partly true. He wouldn't see this exact state anymore. The genius activated his gadget by pressing a button on one of its sides and the device started to whirr. The blue shimmer spread from its core to all its external parts and from there, it kept devouring everything in its way, engulfing the genius inside its glow. A vortex of blue light dominated the warehouse for a short moment until it suddenly disappeared with a loud boom like if something had exploded. The genius was gone and so was his device. All that was left behind were the broken metal clutter and the curious little shadows that had followed his work for so long. A black midnight strikes and with it comes the winds of malevolence. They howl dreadfully like a pack of hounds from hell, desiring to bite any poor creature that would dare to wander outside at their mercy. In fact, there was a lone figure defining the harrowing breezes, veiled in a dark cloak. Carrying a bucket filled with ice, he hurried among the corpses of abandoned buildings to find the one he had taken as his lair. There was a scent of storm in the air and he wanted to get indoors before it would unleash its full might. A little bit of drizzle started to soak him already as he moved like a shadow around the cemetery of deserted buildings. It wasn't hard for him to find the warehouse he was residing in. The only light in this accursed darkness was hanging above the entrance of the man's lair, acting like a beacon that would guide him home. This light remained strong even before the might of the incoming storm and smothering night. The vile winds on his trail, the man opened the door to the warehouse and slipped inside, safe from their cold and ruthless fangs. The grand contraption that used to claim most of the space in the warehouse was no more. Or more like, it hadn't been built yet. The genius had successfully traveled backwards in time, years before he had started to work on his doomsday device. Sadly, his little time machine gadget had broken in the process; he would have liked to go even farther back. However, this was enough for him and he felt content, being years younger now. The genius walked towards a new kind of machine he had recently created. It was a rather crude mass of metal and wires, though the most notable part of it was a mechanical hand it was able to move. The device was placed next to a table and on the table, there was a chess board. The genius pressed a button to turn on the machine and it rumbled a little as it came to life. His opponent was ready. The genius sat down on a chair and contemplated his first move. He grabbed a bottle of beer from the bucket of ice and got immersed in the board game. It was one of those things he had always wanted to learn. And now, as he was years younger, he thought it would be a perfect opportunity to study chess. His little robot here would aid him with this. He had his whole life ahead of him, and if he wanted to pursue world domination again, there was time for that. But for now, he would keep playing, and the world could sigh in relief as the one madman had something else to do with his time. But the world was inside his head, his sense of reality fabricated. His spirit is bound to his own personal hell, unable to perceive life beyond his little plane of existence. Though you can't long for something you don't know anything about. Trapped inside his dark bubble, he would keep building his machines and living his life drenched in madness. He was all alone and being held in a cage.giftrophy