Radion sits on the rubbled remains of a skyscraper, the rest of the city was destroyed, decimated, but infected with the lovely warmth of radiation. They didn't listen, they didn't believe, believe in his father's words, and now they are nothing, gone. The survivors, the loyal, the accepting, their bodies have been burned, melted, rearranged into his father's image "Rise from the ash, become like me, like father!" Radion shouted as he held out his hand to the ones who have listened, using his other to grasp his scythe, to smite the few surviving wicked who try to climb up to him