The Scavenger Ancestor stood atop a jagged peak, his eyes fixed on the distant horizon, when his secure line shrieked with an urgent frequency. He answered, only to be met with the sound of roaring infernos and the frantic screams of his own men.
"Ancestor! They're everywhere! The HQ is in flames! We're being annihi—" The voice cut off with a wet *ughh!* and a sickening thud. In the background, a cold, mocking laugh echoed before the line went dead.
The Ancestor felt as if he were sitting on a red-hot stove. His blood boiled. "I have to leave," he hissed, turning toward the Deacon. "My home is being razed!"
"You aren't going anywhere," the Deacon said calmly, tossing his own phone toward the brute. "Look at this. You aren't the only target."
