Dark Ant sat in the shadows of what was once a bustling Manchester street, the ruined skyline silhouetted against the flickering fires that dotted the horizon. His bloodied hands clenched tightly around the rusted charm from Lana's necklace.
The echoes of her distorted screams replayed in his mind, her mechanical body convulsing before the explosion that ripped her away. Rage boiled beneath his skin, burning hotter with each passing second.
"I'm going after him," Ant growled, his voice low but trembling with barely contained fury.
The rest of the Vanguard stood nearby, their expressions ranging from concern to quiet resignation.
"Ant," Swift Angel said, his tone calm but firm. "We need to regroup. The city isn't secure, and you're not thinking clearly."
Ant stood abruptly, his armour catching the dim light. "He's still out there," he said, his voice rising. "The bastard who turned my sister into... into that is still out there, and I'm not waiting to play clean-up while he escapes."
Shadowleaf stepped forward, her emerald eyes hard. "You're not going to be alone."
"I don't need you," Ant snapped, his glare cutting towards her. "This is my fight."
"No," Shadowleaf said, her voice soft but unyielding. "It's our fight. Whether you like it or not, we're in this together."
Ant hesitated, his jaw tightening.
Reluctantly, Ant allowed Shadowleaf to accompany him as he began his search for the pimp. The others stayed behind to secure their hold on Manchester, though Angel's stern warning lingered in Ant's mind: "Don't lose yourself in this."
The pair moved through the ruins like shadows, their training and instincts guiding them through the treacherous streets. Ant's gadgets picked up traces of energy signatures from the explosion, leading them to a series of underground tunnels used by the gangs.
"Are you sure about this?" Shadowleaf asked as they descended into the darkness.
Ant's response was a grim nod. "He's down here. I can feel it."
The tunnels reeked of damp earth and decay, their walls scrawled with graffiti and crude gang symbols. The air was heavy, each step echoing ominously in the confined space.
As they pressed deeper, the faint sound of music reached their ears—tinny and distorted, like a broken radio struggling to hold a signal. It grew louder as they approached a cavernous chamber lit by flickering fluorescent lights.
The room was a grotesque display of the pimp's twisted empire. Rusted operating tables lined the walls, their surfaces stained with blood and scattered with cybernetic implants. Half-built monstrosities of flesh and machine hung from chains, their lifeless forms a chilling testament to his cruelty.
And there he was, sitting casually in a tattered armchair, a drink in one hand and the detonator from earlier in the other.
"Ah," the pimp drawled, his voice dripping with mockery. "The grieving brother. Come to settle accounts?"
Ant didn't answer. He lunged at the pimp, his gauntlets sparking to life as he aimed a crushing blow at the man's face. But the pimp was ready, rolling to the side with a speed that belied his wiry frame.
"Temper, temper," the pimp taunted, drawing a pistol from his belt. "You're just like her—always fighting, always so... predictable."
Shadowleaf's arrows struck before he could fire, embedding themselves in the wall mere inches from his head. The shadows around her writhed like living things, obscuring her movements as she flanked him.
The pimp laughed, tossing a switch that activated a series of automated defences. Turrets emerged from the walls, their barrels glowing ominously as they targeted the pair.
"Good luck, heroes," he sneered, disappearing into a side tunnel.
Ant snarled, tearing through the defences with a ferocity that bordered on reckless. Shadowleaf moved with deadly precision, her arrows disabling the turrets one by one.
They caught up to the pimp in a dead-end chamber, his cocky demeanour finally cracking as he realised he had nowhere left to run.
Ant stepped forward, his gauntlets sparking ominously. "You can't walk away from this."
The pimp raised his hands, his eyes darting around for an escape. "Hey, hey, let's not be hasty. I was just... providing a service. You can't blame me for that, can you?"
Ant's fist connected with the man's jaw, the impact sending him sprawling.
"You turned her into a weapon," Ant growled, his voice shaking with rage. "You took my sister and turned her into... that!"
The pimp spat blood, his laugh hollow. "She was already broken. I just made her useful."
Ant raised his fist again, but Shadowleaf stepped forward, her hand on his arm. "Enough," she said quietly. "He's not worth it."
Ant hesitated, his breath ragged.
The pimp took advantage of the moment, pulling a hidden blade from his boot and lunging at Ant. But Shadowleaf was faster. Her shadow magic lashed out, dragging the pimp to the ground and pinning him there.
"Go ahead," the pimp snarled. "Kill me. You think it'll bring her back?"
Ant stared down at the man, his mind a storm of rage and grief. His hands trembled as he struggled to decide.
"I'm not like you," Ant said finally, his voice hoarse. "You don't deserve a quick death."
Shadowleaf nodded, her shadows tightening around the pimp. "The others will decide what to do with him. Not us."
The pimp's smirk returned, but it was short-lived. Before anyone could react, he activated another hidden device—a self-destruct sequence embedded in the chamber's walls.
"Guess we're all going down together," he said, laughing as the countdown began.
Shadowleaf grabbed Ant's arm. "We need to go. Now!"
They barely made it out before the explosion ripped through the tunnels, collapsing the chamber and burying the pimp in rubble.
Ant collapsed against a wall, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Shadowleaf sat beside him, her expression unreadable.
"You okay?" she asked after a long silence.
Ant stared at the rusted charm in his hand, his knuckles white. "No," he said quietly. "But I will be."