Too many buildings, too many people. How he longed for the harsh wilderness of his home. But he had left that behind, along with the last few remnants of his past. He was an acolyte, now, and he had a job to do.

Phrez grunted slightly as he made sure his gear was situated properly, weapons ready to be drawn at a moment's notice. Deciding it was dark enough out, he carefully removed his sunglasses, and stuffed them into his backpack. Glancing at Red's hand, he tried to make out the object that was being held.

"What is it?" He inquired, his already gruff voice distorted slightly by the respirator he wore over his face.