Damian made his way through the streets of the Historic District. Rooftop travel was too conspicuous—he couldn’t afford to risk drawing the attention of Kessler’s First Sons or any of DARPA’s agents stationed in the area. Instead, he stuck to the ground, weaving through alleyways and side streets, maintaining the appearance of one of Jake’s associates to keep himself inconspicuous.

The Historic District bore the scars of the catastrophic blast that had changed everything. Buildings stood half-crumbled, and every so often a body would be found on the street with Damian unsure of how they died. Cracked streets and flickering streetlights served as constant reminders of the chaos that was still occurring here. Some of the people were thin and wary, their clothes tattered, and their eyes wide with fear and distrust. Even as Damian passed by, heads turned, eyes widening as they took him in, before quickly averting their gaze. They knew better than to engage with someone who looked like trouble.

Damian kept his expression neutral, moving purposefully toward his destination. He could feel eyes on him as he walked—people retreating into shadows, whispering to one another. But none dared confront him. The Historic District had been the first to become a lawless wasteland, ruled by fear. The First Sons held the power here, and everyone knew it.

Finally, he arrived at the TV station. The large building loomed above the broken skyline, its broadcasting dish pointing toward the sky like a beacon. Damian took a quick glance around before shifting his form. His body morphed into biomass, sliding effortlessly beneath the security door. The door itself was protected by heavy locks, but it was nothing that could stop his new abilities. His semi-liquid form slithered through the small gaps beneath the door, reforming on the other side.

Inside, the station was just as decrepit as the city outside. Flickering lights and the constant hum of broken electronics filled the air. The place was all but abandoned, save for a few working stations near the top floor. Damian could feel the hum of electricity growing stronger as he made his way up through the building, slipping past broken doors and empty offices. As he moved, his senses finely tuned to the flow of electrical signature he had detected earlier.

Finally, he reached the door to one of the upper floors where the electrical activity was concentrated. With a smirk, Damian shifted back into his normal form, his dense muscles returning, and using his strength, he forced the door open with a loud crack as it broke off its hinges.

Inside, Damian’s eyes fell on a young man sitting behind a stack of computers. He wore reflective glasses and a face scarf that concealed most of his identity. His white T-shirt and jeans were disheveled, the look of someone who had been living in hiding, constantly watching his back. The moment the door broke open, the man’s head shot up, his eyes widening in shock and fear.

“W-who the hell are you?” he stammered, his voice shaky as he scrambled to his feet. He backed away from Damian, pressing himself against the far wall as if trying to put as much distance between them as possible.

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Damian, completely unbothered, stepped into the room with a calm, almost nonchalant air. “Relax, Dallas,” he said, his voice steady and composed. “I’m not here to hurt you.”

The mention of his name seemed to only heighten Dallas’s fear. His eyes widened even more, and his voice grew frantic. “How do you know my name? Who sent you? What do you want?” He was practically shaking now, his back pressed against the wall as if he expected Damian to pounce on him at any second.

Damian kept his voice calm and soothing as he moved closer to the panicked young man. “I’m not here to kill you, Dallas. I’m here to give you an opportunity.” He took another step forward, his towering figure casting a long shadow over the dimly lit room.

Dallas had nowhere to run. His breath came in short, panicked bursts as he tried to process what was happening. “Opportunity?” he echoed, his voice trembling. “What kind of opportunity?”

Damian smirked, stepping just close enough that Dallas could feel his presence without him being overtly threatening. “The opportunity to live, of course.”

Dallas’s eyes flickered with confusion, though the fear didn’t leave his face. “Live? What—what are you talking about?” He seemed completely lost, unsure whether to be relieved or more terrified.

Damian chuckled, his voice dark and smooth. “Like I said I’m not here to kill you,” he repeated, his eyes gleaming with something that made Dallas feel uneasy. “But others might be. The First Sons, DARPA—both of them would love to get their hands on someone like you. The ‘Voice of Survival,’ right? A man who’s managed to survive all this time, broadcasting information to the people, keeping them informed. That’s what you’re trying to do, yes? That makes you a liability to them, Dallas.”

Dallas’s throat tightened, and he swallowed hard. “I… I’ve been careful,” he said, though the panic in his voice betrayed him. “I’ve stayed hidden. No one’s found me yet.”

Damian gave him a knowing look, stepping even closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Yet is the opportune word. It doesn’t last forever. A man named Kessler and his men are already closing in on you. And trust me, they won’t be as gentle as I am.”

Dallas flinched, his mind racing. He had always known that this day might come—ever since he made his first broadcast yesterday. He had heard that the First Sons were looking for him. But hearing it confirmed by this stranger standing before him sent a wave of cold dread washing over him. “What do you want from me?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Damian leaned in slightly, his gaze piercing. “Think of this as a business opportunity. A chance for us to help each other,” he said simply. “There’s someone I’m looking for, someone who’s very important to me— a woman named Sasha. I know where she is, but she’s currently under the First Son’s surveillance, and I can’t risk getting caught by their surveillance. I need to get to her and I need you to help me not be seen.”

Dallas blinked, his fear momentarily overtaken by confusion. “Sasha? You mean that crazy woman who controls the Reapers? What do you have to do with her?”

Damian’s expression darkened. “Let’s just say I have my reasons. But the First Sons have eyes on her, so I need you to help me disable those eyes. You’re good with tech, with computers. I need you to find and disable whatever surveillance they have on her. In exchange, I’ll make sure you stay alive and out of their reach. In fact, if everything goes well then I think I’ll give you a piece of secret information about the blast and what’s going on.”

Dallas stared at Damian, his mind spinning with everything he’d just heard. On one hand, this stranger had just barged into his safe haven, clearly powerful enough to tear through any door or obstacle in his way. On the other, he was offering a way out—a chance to survive.

Slowly, Dallas nodded, still unsure but knowing he had little choice. “Okay,” he said quietly. “I’ll help you. Just… just keep your end of the deal.”

Damian’s smirk widened. “Don’t worry, Dallas. As long as you do your part, I’ll make sure no one touches you. I promise.”