Standing within a expansive room filled with exteneded steam pipes, pressure meters, gears, mechanical devices, and darkness; a old man with a long beard stood infront of a raised platform, covered by a blanket strapped on by six hooks, whilst being tilted at 45 degree angle. He sighed as he pulled out a pocket watch from his long sleeves, through the opening of the sleeve, a wire can be seen extending out from his wrist into his pocket watch. Wistfully, he said, "Not much time left..." He pulled out a large flat golden tablet and pressed one of many countless buttons on its screen. The platform lowered slowly with the churning of gears and release of hot steam. The Master put away the tablet into his coat and unhooked the blanket slowly.  Then he painfully clutched his chest with only one hook remaining as he enters a cold sweat.  He was at the end of his life, as shown by his clock that displayed along with normal time the seconds he had left to live in the center of its face. "I've built and lived my life to the fullest. However, there is one thing I regret most..." The lone Old Master spoke to no one in particular. The Old Master's eyes glinted with a last shine of bright radiance, "A successor. I have no suitable successor whom can manage and inherit my legacy, dreams, and remains after I die."  Having lived a life of his own eccentric isolation as a old genius of the times, he had no hope for others to manage his possessions and inheritance. He rathered feared the consequences of people finding his inventions, creations, and items; for any one item may bring about unintended chaos within the world. As he brought forth his last strength, he pulled off the last hook. It was a child resembling the old man, a female child with her eyes closed, arms crossed and fully clothed in a conservative red and black gothic styled dress with cascading gray hair. Pale faced, he whispered weakly, "My ultimate creation... my inorganic child... find me within the bottom of my tomb." His breath hitched and the pocket watched displayed he only had minutes left to live. He entered a coughing fit as he felt his body failing him. "When... you... do..." The weak old man murmured, "protect... your home." The old man collapsed as the pocket watch displayed that the old man had only a minute of life.  Quietly, mechanical tendrils of copper wires wormed their way to the old man from above, below, and the gaps between the pipes. The wires wrapped around him like a cocoon, before slowly dragging him into the darkness. As he is dragged, the pocket watch detatches from his wrist and is left on the floor where the Old Master was.