The Rust District's warehouse spilled chaos into the night. The crowd's cheers faded to a dull throb. Brick "Rumble" Jones trailed Raven through a rusted side door into a dark alley. The air smelled sharp, like diesel and wet concrete. In the distance, Neon City's neon veins hummed, pulsing like a living thing. Raven walked ahead, her boots splashing in puddles. The shallow water mirrored the flickering red light of a broken sign. Her black fight gear clung to her frame, sweat-slicked and streaked with the thugs' blood. Brick walked heavily, his leather jacket creaking. Each step felt like a struggle. He wanted to confront her, but five years of ghosts weighed him down.
"Slow down, kid," Brick called, his voice a low rumble, like gravel under tires. He caught up as Raven paused near a dumpster, its stench curling into the damp air. She turned. Her hazel eyes sparkled with defiance under the alley's lone streetlamp. The buzz of the light broke the silence. Her face, unmasked now, was a map of scars and resolve, the girl he'd trained at 19 hardened into something fiercer. "You wanna explain why you're waving my name like a red flag in Viktor's face?"
Raven's lips twitched, not quite a smile. "Viktor's syndicate is bleeding this city dry, Brick. Rigged bets, broken fighters, bodies in the river. I'm hitting them where it hurts – their pride, their money. And your Gravedigger?" She stepped closer, her breath visible in the chill. "It's the loudest way to say they don't own us."
Brick's fists clenched, knuckles cracking like dry twigs. "You think the Black Lotus cares about pride? They'll bury you, Lena." Her real name slipped out, a reflex from years ago, and her eyes narrowed at it.
"Don't call me that," she snapped. "Lena's gone. I'm Raven now, and I'm not the one who ran." Her words cut like a switchblade. Brick felt old shame twist in his gut. He remembered the Iron Crucible, the crowd's boos, and the syndicate's threat to Mara and Tommy.
Before he could respond, a shadow shifted at the alley's mouth. Brick tensed, his hand brushing the switchblade in his jacket pocket. A wiry figure stepped into the light. It was Mickey "The Rat" Torres. His greasy hair slicked back, and a nervous grin twitched under his patchy mustache. "Jones, Raven, you two throwing a reunion or what?" Mickey had a high, jittery voice. His eyes darted around, as if he expected goons to appear. "Heard you made a mess in there, girl. Viktor's spitting nails."
"Talk fast, Mickey," Raven said, crossing her arms. "What's the syndicate saying?"
Mickey glanced at Brick, then back to Raven, licking his lips. "They know it's you, Phantom. That video? Eddie 'Wires' Chen didn't just post it – he's been scraping their servers. Found encrypted ledgers, fight fixes, and payouts to cops. He's feeding it to the Web, and the bets are going haywire. Viktor's got eyes on every cage in the city now, and he wants you both in the Crucible next week. Big purse, bigger trap."
Brick's blood ran cold. Eddie "Wires" Chen was a dark web ghost, a kid with a keyboard and too much nerve. Brick had seen them before, hackers who thought they could escape the syndicate.
"You trust this Wires kid?" Brick asked, his voice low, eyes on Raven. "He's painting a target on your back."
Raven shrugged, but her jaw tightened. "He's got no love for the syndicate. Neither do I. You in, or are you going to hide behind that bar forever?"
Before Brick could answer, a low hum cut through the alley – a drone, its red eye blinking as it hovered above. Mickey squeaked, diving behind the dumpster. Raven reached for the knife on her thigh, but Brick grabbed her arm. He pulled her into the shadows of a fire escape. The drone's camera whirred, scanning, its propellers slicing the air like a swarm of wasps. Brick's heart raced. Viktor's tech crew was on them. They probably sent their location to a command center. They used facial recognition and geofencing software. He whispered, "Move. Now."
They sprinted down the alley, the drone's hum fading as they ducked into a maze of side streets. Neon City's skyline towered above, with its neon signs glowing eerily over rusty fences. Brick's lungs burned. His boots hit the pavement hard. Raven kept up with him easily, full of youthful energy. They stopped in a dead-end alley. They leaned against a wall covered in graffiti to catch their breath. The distant crowd noise from the warehouse was gone, replaced by the city's restless hum.
"Viktor's not playing," Brick said, his voice rough. "You're not just fighting his goons – you're fighting his machine. Drones, trackers, data. You ready for that?"
Raven's eyes burned, unyielding. "I've been ready since you left me to rot. The Crucible's my shot, Brick. To end them. You with me, or you out?"
Brick stared at her, the weight of her words heavier than any punch. The syndicate's digital web was closing in, and Raven was diving headfirst into it. He thought of Mara, Tommy, and the cage's blood-soaked mat. Then he nodded, slow and certain. "I'm in. But we do this smart, kid. Or we're both ghosts."
" Alright. Let's go find Eddie," Raven Said.
" It's been a long time since I met with that kid. Can't wait to see the fear on his face when I'm through with him. " Brick Grinned