The machine yard was silent at last.
Pike was dead.
Chains swayed above the pools of blood where Pike had fallen, their rusted links groaning in the wind.
The tyrant lay sprawled in the dust, eyes glassy, his scar frozen in a sneer that refused to die with him. It almost felt like he was mocking them even in death. For a long while, no one moved.
They just stood in the ruin of his domain, catching their breath, listening to the slow drip of blood sliding into cracks in the concrete.
It was Reid who finally broke the spell. "We need to move."
The words were flat, not sharp, but they carried weight. Everyone knew Pike might be dead, but his shadow still stretched across the city.
Not a single one of them wanted to spend a second longer in this city. This city carried memories that they would rather forget as soon as possible.
They left the yard without a word.
