Damian stood at the edge of the Neon District, his eyes focused on the bridge connecting to the Historic District. It was heavily fortified, far more than the others, thanks to Kessler’s influence. DARPA had set up a blockade so strict that even the water routes were being monitored for potential intruders. It wasn’t just the ordinary level of security either—this was also Kessler’s domain, and the First Sons were notorious for keeping a tight leash on everything happening in and out of their territory. Damian needed to find a way to cross that bridge without raising suspicion.

The message from Trish had set all this in motion. Amanda had returned and Trish said she had discovered a compound that could temporarily neutralize the drug running through Sasha’s system. If Trish was right, this could be the break he needed to break Sasha’s delusion long enough to transform her into a superior minion. But to even attempt that, he’d first have to get past Kessler’s watchful eye. Damian had no illusions about how difficult this would be—Kessler had eyes everywhere, and if he was right then Sasha was still under his thumb, he’d always be keeping close tabs on her.

That’s where Dallas came in. Damian had spent the past few days gathering information from his memories. Learning that the "Voice of Survival" a man named Dallas was more than just a pirate broadcaster. He was the "Voice of Survival," someone who had gained a loyal following for broadcasting crucial information to the victims of the Blast. Unfortunately, Dallas’s skills would also make him a target for the First Sons, who would eventually manipulate him into defaming Cole before killing him. Damian needed to get to Dallas and use him before that happened. He needed Dallas’s expertise with tech and computers to help him locate the cameras and bugs likely hidden in Sasha’s lair. The First Sons had to be tracking Sasha somehow, and with Dallas’s help, Damian could disable those devices long enough to turn her.

But first, he had to get to the Historic District, and that meant getting through DARPA’s checkpoint.

Damian’s mind worked quickly, formulating a plan. He couldn’t go through the checkpoint as himself—that much was clear. Instead, he would have to resume his previous disguise as Jake, the thug who had tried to attack him earlier. Damian had consumed Jake, taking not just his form but his memories and mannerisms, and now it was time to use them. Jake wasn’t a high-level criminal, but he had a few connections in the Neon District that might prove useful. With the right amount of money and the promise of freedom, Damian could convince them to help him.

As he shifted into Jake’s form, Damian felt his body morphing. His muscles slightly bulked up, and his face contorted into the rough features of the street thug. He examined himself in the reflection of a broken window nearby—he looked exactly like Jake. It was time to put the plan into action.

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Jake’s associates weren’t hard to find. Damian had learned through Jake’s memories that they hung out in a dilapidated warehouse on the outskirts of the Neon District. As he approached, he could hear the low hum of conversation and the occasional clink of bottles. He pushed open the creaky door, stepping into the dimly lit space.

The moment he entered, the conversations stopped, and a few of the men looked up, their eyes narrowing.

"Jake," one of them, a lanky man with a cigarette hanging from his lips, said. "Didn’t think we’d see you again. Thought you were dead."

Damian, fully embodying Jake’s mannerisms, smirked. "Dead? Nah, just laying low. Got some business to take care of, and I need some help."

The group exchanged glances, clearly skeptical. Another man, this one with a thick beard and a baseball bat resting on his shoulder, spoke up. "What kind of business? We don’t do charity work, Jake. You know that."

Damian stepped forward, his voice low and conspiratorial. "I’m talking about something big. We kidnap a DARPA agent, get the clearances and codes we need, and we’re through the checkpoint. Once we get those, there’s a way out of this city. Clean slate. No more hiding. No more running. Plus a big payout if the client I’m working for can also get out. But I can’t do it alone."

The men looked at each other again, this time with interest. The promise of escape was a tempting offer. Life in the Neon District wasn’t easy, especially when they were trapped like mice. For guys like these, the chance to break free from the city was worth the risk.

"How do we know this ain’t some setup?" the bearded man asked, his eyes narrowing suspiciously.

Damian gave him a knowing look. "You think I’d be here if I didn’t need this as much as you? I’ve got the intel, and I’ve got the plan. All I need is your help."

The room was silent for a moment as they considered his words. Finally, the lanky man with the cigarette nodded. "Alright, Jake. We’re in. But this better pay off, or you’re not walking out of here. So what do we gotta do?"

Damian grinned, feeling the tension in the room ease. "You’ll get what’s promised I guarantee it. First we need to catch a lone DARPA agent or solider. Once we do that we get the info we need."

Later that night, Damian and his newfound allies lurked in the shadows near the DARPA checkpoint. They had identified a low-level agent—someone who wouldn’t be missed right away but had enough clearance to get them through. The plan was simple: wait for the agent to leave his post, ambush him, and extract the information they needed.

Damian watched from the alley as the agent—a man in his mid-thirties—finished his shift and started walking toward a diner most likely to grab a bite to eat. Damian nodded to the others, signaling for them to move.

The ambush was quick and efficient. The agent didn’t even have time to scream before they had him restrained and dragged into the shadows. Damian stepped forward, his eyes glowing faintly in the darkness. The agent looked up, terror in his eyes as he realized what was happening.

"Please," the agent stammered. "I’ve got a family—"

Damian’s voice was cold as he knelt beside the man. "Oh, don’t worry this won’t take long."