The Deacon paced back and forth in his lair, frustration etched on his face. He had hoped that the creatures he sent would be enough to take down the Ghosts, but the arrival of the Reaper had thrown a wrench into his plans.
He had seen firsthand the Ghost's resistance and how they had managed to fend off his creatures with surprising skill and tenacity. But the Deacon had been confident in his power, thinking he had enough under his control to overcome any obstacle.
"This was not supposed to happen," he muttered to himself, clenching his fists in anger.
Now, with Reaper on the scene, he realised how wrong he had been. The Deacon knew that the Reaper was a force to be reckoned with, a skilled fighter with training from various masters under his belt. He had read the reports of face-offs against the Reaper before and knew firsthand how dangerous he could be.
