The Dark Stalker skulked passed the officers guarding the entrance to the streets of The Warren. The scent of Amanda lingered in its senses, guiding it with unerring accuracy as it moved toward the Warren. This part of the city was a stark contrast to the Neon District—where as the Neon was still alive with color and light, the Warren was a desolate expanse of decay and despair. The air was thick with the stench of rust, dust, and desperation, the remnants of a once-thriving industrial area now reduced to slums.

The Warren was dominated by run-down buildings, many of them little more than skeletons of their former selves, and a large shanty town had sprung up in what used to be the district's park. The Dust Men, an army of heavily armed and deeply deranged individuals, roamed these streets. Formed by Alden Tate, a man whose mind had been shattered by power and madness, the Dust Men were a reflection of the Warren itself—broken, dangerous, and unpredictable.

For the Dark Stalker, these elements were irrelevant. It moved with a singular purpose, unseen and unheard, using its echolocation and keen sense of smell to navigate the treacherous terrain. The scent trail was stronger now, and the creature no longer needed to travel on the ground. With a fluid motion, it scaled the side of a dilapidated building, its claws digging into the crumbling masonry as it ascended to the rooftop.

From this vantage point, the Dark Stalker moved swiftly, darting from rooftop to rooftop with an agility that belied its size. The city stretched out before it, a maze of broken bluidings. But the creature’s focus was solely on the trail it followed, the scent of Amanda growing stronger with each passing moment.

The scent led the creature to an abandoned building, its structure barely holding together, with walls cracked and windows shattered. The place reeked of neglect, the perfect hiding place for those who thrived in the Warren’s chaos. But what caught the Dark Stalker’s attention most was the overwhelming scent of blood mingled with Amanda’s scent. The creature paused, its mind processing this information, before slipping through a gaping hole in the roof, entering the building like a shadow in the night.

Inside, the darkness was thick and oppressive, but to the Dark Stalker, through the use of its echolocation it was as clear as day. It moved silently through the building, its body coiled and ready to strike at any threat that might present itself. The voices of men reached its ears, low and gruff, echoing through the empty hallways.

“Can’t belive this bitch gave us so much trouble,” one man grumbled, his voice filled with anger and frustration. “Should’ve just killed her outright.”

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Another man’s voice, laced with a mix of curiosity and cold indifference, responded, “She’s still alive, right? Bleeding out, sure, but alive.”

The first man chuckled darkly, a sickening sound that grated on the Dark Stalker’s senses. “Barely. Won’t last long, though. Without medical she’ll an hour, tops.”

The third man, whose voice carried a disturbing eagerness, chimed in. “So... before she croaks... mind if I have a go at her? Never had one this feisty before.”

A brief silence followed, the other men clearly taken aback by the request. The second man broke the silence, his tone a mix of disgust and resignation. “You’re sick, man. She’s bleeding out, for Christ’s sake. What’s wrong with you?”

The first man, seemingly amused by the exchange, didn’t bother to hide his approval. “Let him, who cares? Bitch is as good as dead anyway.”

The Dark Stalker moved closer, its body pressed against the decaying walls as it approached the source of the voices. The men were in a room near the center of the building, where the stench of blood was the strongest. The creature could hear Amanda’s labored breathing, faint and uneven, her life hanging by a thread. Her scent was all over the room, along with the foul odor of the men who had done this to her.

The creature’s primitive mind registered the scene with a clarity that went beyond mere sight or sound. It could feel the life ebbing away from Amanda, could sense the malicious intent of the men, and its instincts screamed at it to attack, to tear these men apart and spread its infection. But it held back, restrained by the commands that had been drilled into its limited consciousness. Its task was clear—find Amanda, ensure her safety, but do not engage unless absolutely necessary. It understood these men were a threat and needed to be removed for it to furfill its objective.

The Dark Stalker positioned itself above the men, clinging to the ceiling like a shadow. The men were too focused on their sick conversation to notice the creature's presence. Amanda lay on the floor, her body battered and broken, a pool of blood forming around her. Her breathing was shallow, her consciousness flickering like a dying flame.

The man who had voiced his twisted desire stepped forward, his hand moving to his belt as he knelt beside Amanda. The Dark Stalker’s body tensed, its instincts screaming for release, but it remained still, waiting for the right moment. The other two men watched, one with a smirk, the other turned away with a look of disgust.

As the man reached out to touch Amanda, the Dark Stalker made its move. In a split second, it dropped from the ceiling, its form blending into the darkness as it landed silently behind the men. The man closest to Amanda never saw it coming. The Dark Stalker’s claws pierced his throat, severing his vocal cords before he could make a sound. Blood sprayed across the room as the man gurgled, his eyes wide with shock and pain.

The other two men reacted too late. The Dark Stalker was already upon them, its movements a blur of lethal precision. The second man tried to draw his weapon, but the creature’s claws slashed across his chest, ripping through flesh and bone with ease. He collapsed, clutching at the gaping wound, his life draining away in seconds.

The last man, the one who had suggested killing Amanda outright, stumbled backward in terror, his eyes wide as he stared at the horror before him. The Dark Stalker advanced on him, its muscles shifting with each slow step. The man screamed, a high-pitched wail of pure fear, but it was cut short as the creature’s claws found his throat, silencing him forever.

The room fell silent, save for the ragged breathing of Amanda and the faint dripping of blood from the walls. The Dark Stalker stood over the bodies of the men, its mind processing the scene with a cold, detached clarity. The task was complete.