Damian’s glowing eyes shifted from the agent to Jake’s associates, his mind already planning his next move. He had played the part of Jake long enough. Now it was time to clean up and ensure no loose ends remained.

Without a word, Damian’s arms began to shift, the skin bubbling and warping as it transformed into biomass. His muscles bulged, and the sickening sound of flesh ripping filled the air. In seconds, his arms had morphed into long, deadly blades, glistening with a dark sheen under the dim light of the warehouse.

The thugs barely had time to react. The lanky man with the cigarette opened his mouth to say something, but before a single word could leave his lips, Damian lunged forward. The blade that was once his arm sliced through the man’s throat with brutal precision, severing his head from his body. Blood sprayed across the floor as the body crumpled.

The bearded thug with the baseball bat swung at Damian out of instinct, but it was too late. Damian’s other blade shot up, piercing through the man’s chest, the tip emerging from his back in a spray of blood. With a swift motion, Damian tore the blade free, and the thug fell to the ground, dead.

The last of Jake’s associates, paralyzed with fear, tried to flee, but Damian was on him in an instant. He grabbed the man by the throat, lifting him off the ground. His blade-arm sliced through the air, severing the thug's midsection in one clean strike. The man’s body hit the floor in two pieces, blood pooling around him.

Damian turned his attention to the DARPA agent, who had watched the massacre in horror. The agent scrambled backward, eyes wide with terror. "Please... no...!" he stammered, but Damian was already moving.

With a swift, fluid motion, Damian drove both biomass blades into the agent’s chest, skewering him through the heart. The agent's eyes widened for a brief moment before his body went limp, life draining from him.

As the bodies lay scattered on the ground, Damian’s blades retracted, the biomass flowing back into his arms. He stood over the corpses, a dark satisfaction brewing within him.

Without wasting any more time, Damian knelt by each body and began absorbing them, his hands pressing into their flesh. The bodies disintegrated into dark tendrils that coiled around Damian’s arms, pulling the remains into him. As he absorbed their biomass, memories flooded his mind—Jake’s associates, their petty criminal pasts, and the agent’s knowledge of the DARPA checkpoint and security protocols.

When the last body had been absorbed, Damian stood, feeling the rush of power and new information settle within him. He now had everything he needed to bypass the checkpoint undetected.

"Perfect," he muttered to himself, his voice low and cold.

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Shifting into the appearance of the DARPA agent he had just absorbed, Damian straightened his uniform and began walking with purpose back to the checkpoint. He had memorized the agent’s mannerisms and speech patterns from his memories, ensuring his disguise was flawless.

As he approached the checkpoint, another agent standing at the guard post noticed him. "Hey, why you back so soon?" the agent, a stocky man with a worn face, asked curiously.

Damian smiled easily, slipping into the role. "Diner I was headed to just ran out of ingredients. Closed until the lockdown ends," he said, shrugging.

The agent chuckled. "These poor bastards don’t know what’s gonna happen to them."

"Right?" Damian replied, a low chuckle escaping him. "They’ve got no idea. I almost feel bad for them."

The guard shook his head with amusement before asking, "So, where you headed now?"

"Got reassigned," Damian said casually. "Heading over to the Historic District to relieve someone. Apparently, the higher-ups want to have a chat with him."

The agent raised an eyebrow. "Weird. Usually, they give more notice than that."

Damian grinned and leaned in a bit. "Tell me about it. My guess is the senior agent’s probably got a girl somewhere in the city. Probably made the whole thing up to sneak off for a quick one. You know how it goes."

The agent burst out laughing, slapping Damian on the back. "Yeah, probably! Guess that means you’re stuck with the short straw, huh?"

Damian played along, chuckling. "Yep, lucky me."

"Alright, let’s get you through. What’s the code?"

Without missing a beat, Damian rattled off the security code from the agent’s memories. The guard checked the terminal, nodded, and handed Damian a badge. "This’ll get you through the rest of the checkpoints. Flash it, and you’ll be fine. Be careful out there."

Damian took the badge, tucking it into his pocket. "Thanks, Charlie. And hey—don’t work too hard, or they might stick you with the next crap job like this."

Charlie laughed and waved him off. "Yeah, yeah. Get going, man."

Damian nodded and started walking toward the bridge. As he approached each checkpoint, he flashed the badge, and the guards waved him through without any further questions. The disguise was working perfectly—no one suspected a thing.

Damian moved swiftly away from the bridge, keeping to the shadows as he blended in with the flow of the Historic District’s quieter streets. He needed to locate Dallas, and while he knew the man was holed up in a TV station, the exact location remained a mystery.

Relying on the shark’s ability he had absorbed to detect electrical fields, Damian tuned his senses to the energy around him. The Historic District was full of electrical activity—the hum of power lines, lights flickering in the distance, and the occasional burst of energy from security cameras. It was chaotic, but there had to be areas where the electrical noise faded, where he could shift identities without being detected.

Damian moved carefully through the district, scanning the area for dead zones—places where electricity was sparse or nonexistent. Finally, he found one: a small park on the outskirts of the main square. It was dark, with no visible streetlights, and the surrounding buildings seemed to be shut down, abandoned, or lacking power. It was perfect.

He slipped into the park, making sure no one was watching, and let his form shift. His skin rippled, and the bulkier shape of one of Jake’s associates emerged. The thug’s features were rough, his frame broad, making him blend seamlessly with the riffraff who roamed this area.

Now came the tricky part. Damian’s eyes scanned the skyline, searching for the highest vantage point. The rooftops would provide the perfect place to survey the district and locate the TV station. His gaze settled on a tall building not far from the park. It wasn’t the tallest, but it had a good line of sight to the rest of the city, and it seemed to be devoid of heavy First Sons’ presence. It would make a good start.

He moved quickly, using the shadows to stay hidden as he made his way to the building. Once he reached it, he ducked into a side alley, found a fire escape, and began his climb. The metal stairs creaked softly under his weight, but the noise was drowned out by the hum of the city below.

Reaching the rooftop, Damian pulled himself up and took a deep breath. The view was worth it. From here, he could see most of the district’s skyline. Scanning the horizon, he spotted a few tall buildings with satellite dishes, but one, in particular, stood out—it was larger and more central than the others, with multiple antennas and a large dish that likely served as a broadcasting station.

“That’s got to be it,” Damian muttered under his breath.