The Slum Hunt  

Vicky continued to analyse Judgment Day on her workbench beneath the lens. Her brow furrowed as she studied the peculiar scabbard. Scar, drawn by curiosity, approached cautiously as he listened to Vicky's musings. "This sword's scabbard is of a peculiar design, a unique Blade Engineering craft, formidable and dangerous, moreover, long forgotten."

"What does that all mean, boss?" Scar inquired, eager to know more about the sword that had just claimed the lives of his two friends.

Vicky didn't answer, instead fixing her inquisitive eyes on Scar as she asked, "Where did you say you found this sword again?"

"We came across this blindfold-wearing kid in the denser part of the slums of Wranglers district. He had another sword with him, but we decided to steal this one instead because it looked more valuable." He gestured towards Judgment Day. "The clown just handed it over without any fuss. He didn't look that competent either, maybe he was scared of us..." he assumed wrongly.

"Hmm…?" Vicky's thoughts became a lit fuse of ideas as she further analysed Judgment Day's scabbard. Coming out of the cloud of her head, she spoke to her minion, "Find that person and bring him to me right away. I want him alive."

"Yes, boss!" Scar assented resolutely, stepping over the blood-splattered floor that belonged to his now-deceased friends. He left the warehouse, intent on scrounging up some extra muscle before they headed out on a hunt for the blindfold-wearing youth.

"I'm going to make that brat pay for tricking us with that sword. The boss said she wants him alive, which means I can beat him to the brink of death. Hu-ha-ha!" Scar's sinister laughter rolled off his chapped lips.

He ventured into the heart of the Wranglers district seeking out the best of the underbelly to aid with his mission, the grime and grit of the area a familiar sight. He walked through a dingy alleyway then later stopped at a rundown shack where the smell of stale beer and sweat mingled in the air. It was here he knew he would find the muscle he needed. The shack's wooden panels were worn down and barely holding together. Inside, he found a motley crew of sword-wielding misfits, each one more fearsome than the last. With swords ranging from sleek and deadly to ornate and ceremonial. They were eager to prove themselves. They gathered around Scar, waiting for him to divulge the contents of their mission.

Among the group was a slender man wielding a curved sword with intricate etchings along its blade, a fierce-looking woman with a matching pair of daggers strapped to her hips, and a hulking brute of a man clutching a colossal greatsword as though it weighed no more than a feather.

As for Scar, he reached for his signature Blade Edge, which hung on the wall of the shack. It was shaped like an extended meat cleaver, boasting two similar rectangular blades and a retractor in the middle that allowed it to open and close like scissors. He called it Scissor Cleaver. The weapon was a fearsome sight to behold, its wicked edges were ready to cut apart some meat.

Scar surveyed the group with a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He was pleased with the assorted crew assembled before him. He knew they would be useful in capturing the blindfold-wearing youth.

"So, what's the plan?" Asked the slender man, idly twirling his curved sword while the silvery surface reflected his crude face. He went by the name Silas; his quick, precise movements spoke of his expertise in combat.

Scar looked at the fierce woman with the pair of daggers strapped to her hips. She was known as Raven and her reputation for being a ruthless, cold-hearted killer preceded her. She arched an eyebrow, her eyes showing a dangerous curiosity.

"The plan is simple," Scar began, scanning the group. "We find this kid and bring him back to the boss. She wants him alive."

The hulking brute of a man who was called Boulder, shifted his weight while he held onto his colossal greatsword. "And if the kid puts up a fight?" he asked in a deep rumble tone that seemed to vibrate through the shack.

Scar smirked and replied, "Then we show him why he should have stayed scared. But remember, alive."

The group assented, then they prepared to embark on their mission. Scar watched as Silas, Raven, Boulder and a handful of other thugs exchanged glances, there was a sort of silent understanding forming among them. Failure was not an option.

"Alright, let's move out," Scar ordered, leading the group from the shack.

With their mission clear and their weapons at the ready, Scar and his gang ventured into the pouring rain, their search for the blindfold youth was taking them deeper into the depth of the Wranglers District. The rain fell in heavy sheets, drenching them as they navigated the narrow, winding alleys. They wore no thick layers of clothing to shield them from the downpour, as they were a group that relished the wetness – it was a reminder of the harsh environment they thrived in. Rain was a metaphor for their lives, washing away any pretence of comfort or warmth.

As they made their way through the district, the rain-soaked buildings seemed to weep around them, their crumbling facades reflecting the despair that had seeped into the very core of this place. The group moved with a purpose, their imposing figures were discerned by the residents who lived there.

Scar and his crew interrogated several passers-by, their ugly demeanour and gruff voices caused most of them to shrink back in fear. They were relentless in their pursuit. Their ruthless nature became more apparent in the way they treated those they came across.

"Hey, you!" Scar barked at a scrawny man clutching a tattered umbrella. "Have you seen a kid with a blindfold, carrying a black sword?"

The man hesitated, visibly shaking under the pressure of Scar's gaze. "N-no, I-I haven't seen anyone like that, sir." he stammered.

Scar spat into a puddle then moved on to the next individual, his crew was following closely behind. Their search continued until they approached a frightened woman holding her child dearly to her chest.

"You better tell me if you've seen that kid, or else," Raven threatened, her tone as cold and unyielding as the rain. The woman's eyes filled with tears, but she shook her head, unable to offer any information.

"Damn! It seems nobody knows anything."

Their frustration grew as their search prolonged, but eventually, they stumbled upon a lead. A trembling old man revealed that he had seen a blindfolded youth carrying a sword pass by half an hour ago. The revelation set the group into motion, their vigour was renewed.

"Come on! We have to catch up with him before he vanishes completely from our radar."

Scar's gang became more aggressive as they closed in on their target. They were storming through the Wranglers district like a violent tempest. They were the embodiment of the chaos that plagued this area, meaning, they would not rest until they had found their prey.

At the same time, Hao was huddled beneath a bridge with the stray puppy snuggled against his chest for warmth. They lay on a makeshift bed of cardboard boxes, shivering from the cold but finding solace in each other's presence. Hao was unaware that he had become the target of a group of unscrupulous characters, his focus solely on the small creature that had found its way into his heart. The foul stench of the filthy tunnel did not seem to bother them.

Scar and his gang continued their ruthless pursuit throughout the rain-filled expanse, their path illuminated only by the occasional flash of lightning that streaked across the sky. They would not stop until they had captured Hao.

With every step they took, the storm appeared to intensify, like the very heavens were joining them in their relentless hunt. The rain showed no sign of letting up, hence the streets of the Wranglers district became a battleground where Vicky's fearsome crew waged a war against the elements in search of their quarry.

While Hao lay there, the sound of the rain lulled him into a deeper slumber, and the steady drumming of the raindrops against the concrete provided a soothing backdrop to his dreams. All the while being unaware of the danger that was steadily closing in.