Ambrose woke to the feeling of the ground... shaking? His eyes fluttered open, staring at the obsidian interior of his coffin as he listened intently to the sounds going on outside of his precious safe haven.

"Yo! Y'all seeing this shit? Looks like a fuckin' witch lived here or some shit."

Footsteps. The creaking of metal, shuffling, chatter. Ambrose could sense these sounds getting closer and closer until—smack. Three taps of a hand against the top of the coffin, making Ambrose flinch in surprise.

"That a goddamn coffin? Wack. Think there's an actual vamp in there, man?"

"Pffff. No way. Don't those guys sleep upside down now? My buddy's dating one, says she sleeps in her bat form like, all the damn time."

"Woah. No cuddles?"

"No cuddles, bro."

Ambrose blinked. He had never heard people speak like that before. What was a 'bro?' What did 'wack' mean? And what on earth was happening?

"Well, we should probably open it. Make sure nothin' is in it."

After that, footsteps receding. And then this loud rumbling sound before something clamped around the coffin. Ambrose's eyes widened as he felt like he was being lifted, and then all of a sudden, dropped. Ambrose banged his head against the wood with a pained yelp.

Oh, Heavens. I need to escape. Now.

With a surge of strength, Ambrose shoved the lid open and sat up. He blinked rapidly to adjust to the bright light, finding that the home he once knew was completely destroyed, and the basement appeared to be the last thing to get rid of. Unfamiliar faces dressed in bright yellow vests stared at him, eyes wide and mouths agape. A massive, claw-like contraption was being handled by a man in an orange vest, most likely whatever had picked Ambrose up.

"Good day, gentlemen," Ambrose greeted, standing up. "And goodbye."

With a quiet poof, he transformed into a bat and darted off, his newfound height advantage in the sky allowing him to see the remains of his home. Where is my family...?

Ambrose couldn't think on it for too long, because he noticed more and more. His city looked... different. Everything. Strange new machines, different architecture, weirdly dressed people. He was so distracted by it all that he didn't notice how weak his wings felt until he couldn't quite steer himself properly, and—

Crash.

His poor little bat form went slamming straight into a window, glass shattering on impact and sending him barreling into wooden tiles, being flung across the floor like some rag doll. The pain caused him to shift back into his regular form as soon as he landed, and he rolled over with a groan, glass crunching underneath his body.

"Heavens," Ambrose hissed, feeling abnormally weak and weary. "Where am I?"