The humid Brazilian air hung thick and heavy, a familiar cloak for the Confradia's grim work. Argent Storm, Apollo to his closest, wiped a bead of sweat from his brow, the jungle canopy overhead doing little to block the oppressive heat. Before him, Sebastian's assistant, Mario Sousa, writhed, strapped naked to a tree, a bloody testament to betrayal. The distant cries of wild toucans and the chattering of capuchins seemed to mock the scene, a symphony of nature oblivious to the human depravity unfolding beneath its ancient boughs.

Beside Argent, Gage “Rogue” Constantine stood, his obsidian eyes gleaming with a cold, righteous fury that mirrored Argent's own. For years, Argent had believed Sebastian a brother, a loyal right-hand man. Now, that trust was shattered, replaced by a searing anger. \"Where’s Sebastian?\" Argent spat, punctuating his demand with another brutal punch to Sousa's ribs. The man gurgled, blood mixing with spittle, his pleas weak and desperate. Every ounce of Argent’s being screamed for revenge, a primal instinct honed by years in the shadows of the Confradia.