The lackey stepped gingerly into the room, fanning the cigar-smoke away from his face. Taxidermied beasts snarled menacingly from the walls; a dying clown crawled across the floor.
“Yes, Master Malstrom? What is it?”
Malstrom sipped his red wine, savoring every flavor. His mind was riddled with legends, rumors, half-truths and mystic phrases. The world spun around with him as the Axis of Power. Great thunder came down from the heavens, illuminating a post-apocalyptic world outside the windows. The storm had been raging ceaselessly for months.
“Silence!” roared Malstrom, who, flexing his biceps, instantly annihilated the lackey.
For a long time there was nothing but silence. Then, Malstrom took one last look outside at the ruined landscape before raising a shotgun to his head.