In a desolate valley where the sun cast long, merciless shadows, a vulture reigned over a stretch of lifeless land. Weary creatures, desperate for protection, gathered beneath his perch. He promised them wisdom and swore to keep them safe – so long as they brought him offerings.

And so, out of fear, they obeyed.

Time passed, and his nest grew heavy with stolen gifts – a mountain of riches amassed through manipulation.

Whilst the creatures starved, the vulture feasted. His belly swelled, his eyes gleamed – but he never shared.

His power, he believed, was absolute.

Then, one night, a fox crept into his domain. He had watched, waited, and studied the vulture’s ways.

And when the great scavenger drifted into slumber, the fox struck.

With nimble paws, he loosened the bindings of the nest, sending the hoarded treasures tumbling into the wind.

By dawn, the vulture’s empire had crumbled. His wealth – once clutched so tightly – was scattered beyond his reach, whilst the creatures who had once cowered before him saw the truth at last.

That he had never been their protector; only a parasite.

One by one, they turned their backs, leaving him with nothing but the hollow remains of his greed…

You are no different from that vulture, Ezekiel. From your grand pulpit, you raise your voice in false gospel, peddling a salvation that comes with a price.

A price that fills your own pockets.

You prey on the faithful, feasting on their desperation – bleeding them dry whilst assuring them that their suffering is temporary.

That God will provide.

But it is not God who has provided for you, is it? It is the blind devotion of your flock. The fearful and the hopeful, who trust in you while you grow fat on deception.

Your church is nothing more than your nest, lined with their hard-earned offerings. A throne built upon their sacrifices.

Yet, for all your power, you have made one fatal mistake…

You never noticed the fox.

You never saw me watching from the shadows, studying the threads of your lies, waiting for the perfect moment to unravel them.

You believed yourself untouchable; above the very laws of the world you twist to suit your will.

But when your fortune began to drain away – when the numbers in your account vanished like scattered feathers – it was already too late.

Because at Invasion, Ezekiel, I did what I do best…

With a few keystrokes, I stripped you bare. Every credit, every ill-gotten gain, gone in an instant. Like the fox who scattered the vulture’s hoard, I made sure that what you had stolen would never be yours again.

It wasn’t just about taking your wealth, Ezekiel; it was about tearing down the illusion.

And when your empty balance flashed across the screen, your empire cracked.

Now the congregation that once knelt before you, trusting in your promises of divine prosperity, know the harsh truth.

That their preacher is no saviour…

Their preacher is a scavenger.

Just like those forsaken creatures of the valley, they will abandon you.

No more riches.

No flock.

No power.

Just you – alone in your hollow church – left to rot in the emptiness you have created.