Years after he changed his name, Willt moved to Connecticut.

The skyline of Connecticut, where the ocean lapped the coasts, was generally unscathed by the spidery structures of those other places. Yet unfortunately, there could hardly be a place without its ugly and sprawling parts—so, even in the skyline of Connecticut, there were industrial zones with workhouses that speared the night sky with thick columns of steel and copper wire. They forked from the ground like sentinels among the clouds.

Fearsome and dark creatures from far away, when the perspective came closer to one in particular standing next to Boothe Street; it seemed to suck the light straight out of the stars around it. The old building was decorated in the city's tattoo, bright paint sweeping from its base in wide letters and thin pictures. Next to the door of the old warehouse was drawn a silver swallow with crimson eyes, repainted several times over other tags that had tried to take its spot.

Underneath this swallow was Doctor Ferdinand Malloy, who didn't appear the sort of person to be in that grimy part of the city, alone on a moonless night with his nice clothes and clean face. It could easily be suggested that he looked like high society, yet truthfully, if he was actually seen in society it could easily be said just the opposite. Which was most of the time.

His dark eyes frowned more than his mouth, hidden under a thick black mustache that contrasted his pale face. He had some strands of chalky hair that were developing either from age or from alchemy, but from which, Malloy wasn't quite sure yet.

He inspected the rusty door. It had the type of iron work that would take years to saw through, with a 30 year old patina on its hard surface; a door as unremarkable as any other in this part of the city.

Malloy pulled out a metal key from his pocket and forced it into the entrance door. The key was the same shape as the swallow painted to the right of him—the swallow's feet twisted into a pattern of notches to tickle the teeth of the menacing lock as it turned. Malloy twisted the key right twice, left once, and then out before he jiggled the handle.

“Not a minute too late.” Said a listing accented voice from behind the door. This voice was distinctly female, and belonged to a woman who was a sliver thinner than her dry voice would have suggested. “Just on the line. Could it be Malloy?” The woman walked over to a yellow patch of light where she could see him more clearly, it bounced off of matted hair wrapped lazily around her face. “Ah, of course.” Malloy watched her gray eyes and saw no emotion behind them; a horrifying picture.

“I wouldn't be late today, Sophie.” Malloy told her. He closed the door without turning his back to her.

“Ah, of course.” She said again, boring into him with her empty glare.

“You know why I'm here.”

“I honestly...don't...” Sophie said seriously, confusion in the way she held a small espresso cup in her hands.

“It's not a secret—the Thing he's brought.” Malloy said. Sophie acknowledged this with a shrug in her eyebrows. She was cautious of him, but like most Knights, had decided that Malloy was not much of a threat.

“Has he shown it to you?” Malloy asked her hesitantly. He heard the sound of machines creaking under their weight in the darkest parts of the factory as Sophie assessed him.

“Well, of course!” She cried suddenly, still unsmiling and wary. “The weapon born from the end of all of the Universes nature could invent—The greatest Thing that Willt could ever wield—ah! The great Destroyer!” She cooed exuberantly. Malloy nodded slowly and continued.

“Yes, but what is it?” Her light eyebrows frazzled at the suggestion and she threw her cup against the wall. He watched it roll away and fall off of the grate platform. It hit the ground a few seconds later—the main entrance must have been on an upper story.

The factory was huge, the Destroyer maybe even larger.

“Malloy!” She yelled harshly. “You question the Infinite Power of the Brim Knights?”

“No.”

“Yes! I think you do!”