LONG AGO, IN THE CARETAKER'S CHAMBER OF WAREHOUSE 1:

"Alexander, please! You are Caretaker, you must not die!"

"No, I must. Socrates, you know full well my 'talent': every word I say comes to pass. And there will be others like me, other Caretakers of other Warehouses."

"I suppose that must be so, then..."

"Yes, it must. The Trident must be protected."

Alexander coughed. Even though he was leader of the world's greatest empire, and the Caretaker of the single most powerful weapon in existence, he could do nothing to prevent his own demise. Death, as it would seem, was inevitable.

"Socrates... hear me. What I am about to say will come to pass. On the eve of the consecration of Warehouse 14, a dragon with my soul shall rise and burn the sky..."

Suddenly, the emperor's eyes glowed with an unearthly color. He began to speak as though he were possessed.

"Are you alright? Alexander!"

"When the heavens burn and the fires of the souls freeze, and time stops turning... the Old Ones will bring chaos with their darkness. All will crumble to the Void, and the impossible shall be realized..."

Suddenly, Alexander burst into a black, cold fire. The flames leapt across the room. There was no escape. Socrates did what he had to: he tied the green ribbon that Alexander always used as a scarf around the dying man's arm, and shot the Caretaker's energy into the sky though it, the ceiling consumed in the fire. He prayed to the gods that the energy would strike a worthy Caretaker as the flames consumed them both.

In the town of Alexandria, a bolt of what appeared to be green lightning struck a girl named Cleopatra. The girl shrugged, not knowing she was the one who would be the Caretaker of Warehouse 2.