Once clear of the Historic District, Damian's pace quickened. He ducked into a side alley, glancing around to ensure no one was watching before shifting again. His body morphed, this time taking on the appearance of Jake’s associate, blending seamlessly with the Warren’s rougher crowds. Moving through the Warren was easier now; the locals knew Jake’s crew and gave Damian a wide berth, not wanting to get involved in anything dangerous.

He made his way through the streets, slipping through alleyways and eventually reaching the water's edge. Without hesitation, Damian crossed the water, silently walking beneath the surface until he reached the Neon District. Once on the other side, he found himself standing in the glow of neon lights reflecting off the cracked, rain-slicked streets.

Oscar’s old medical supply store stood near the edge of the district, now basically repurposed as a makeshift base for his operations. Damian moved quickly, pushing open the door and stepping inside. The interior was dimly lit, shelves still lined with various medical equipment and supplies. On the counter, three syringes were waiting for him, each filled with the compound Trish had prepared. A note was attached.

“You have four hours before these expire. Move fast. - Trish”

Damian chuckled, picking up the syringes and tucking them carefully into his coat. “A timed mission,” he muttered to himself. “This really is like a video game.”

Damian stepped outside Oscar's medical supply store, the neon glow reflecting off the wet streets. He paused in the doorway and whistled a frequency as he called for the Dark Stalker. Within moments, a shimmer appeared in the shadows near the alley, the barely perceptible outline of the Dark Stalker revealing its presence. The creature had been in camouflage mode, blending seamlessly with its surroundings, waiting for Damian’s next command.

“Good,” Damian muttered, stepping closer. He placed a hand on the Stalker's head, feeling the connection snap into place as he mentally issued a series of complicated orders. The Stalker, ever attentive, processed them without hesitation.

“Follow me, stay hidden. When we reach the base, your task is simple—remain out of sight until I reach Sasha’s chambers. Once I’m inside, your job is to incapacitate anyone who tries to enter, but don’t kill them. Remember, once Sasha is part of the collective, all her Reapers will belong to me. No point in wasting good resources.”

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The Stalker remained still, understanding the mission with silent precision. After a moment, its form shimmered again, disappearing entirely as it reactivated its camouflage. The connection severed once Damian removed his hand, and the Stalker slipped back into the shadows, waiting to follow him.

Damian allowed himself a small smirk of satisfaction. Everything was coming together, now he just need to do the hard part.

With that, he unbuttoned his coat and slowly opened his chest cavity, the biomass parted smoothly with a soft sound. Inside, there was enough room to carefully place the syringes and his burner phone, ensuring they were safe and secure for the journey. Once everything was inside, the biomass shut, protecting his vital tools.

Fully prepared it was time to begin his march toward Jefferson Tunnel. Damian moved through the city with practiced ease. He could see that Sasha's influence had spread, and the number of Reapers had grown exponentially since the last time he passed through. She had gone into overdrive, her control over the district tightening like a noose around the city.

As he neared the tunnel entrance, the sight of the newly minted Reapers solidified his suspicions. There were at least three times the number from before, some patrolling in tight formations, others guarding key entry points. The regular Reapers were already dangerous, but these new ones—towering figures in thick, padded red snow jackets and heavy armor—looked like elite enforcers. Their armor was marked with a distinctive skull logo and stripes, further setting them apart from the typical grunts.

Damian’s eyes narrowed as he surveyed the situation. Sneaking in unnoticed wasn’t going to be an option. These new Reapers were more vigilant, and there was no telling how advanced Sasha's command over them had become. He needed to act quickly, but smartly.

Spotting two regular Reapers on patrol near the edge of the tunnel, he silently pulled them into the shadows with his tendrils, moving with lethal grace. Before they could even react, Damian knocked them both out with precise, controlled strikes. As they hit the ground, he knelt beside them, pulling back their hoods to check their faces. Neither of them were Oscar, much to his relief. He didn’t want to consume the old man that he handed over to Sasha. He’d feel bad consuming a man he’d let be brainwashed.

With one of the Reapers unconscious, Damian extended his hand, his biomass shifting instinctively. He consumed the Reaper, his body absorbing the man’s appearance, knowledge, and uniform. In a matter of seconds, Damian had taken on the form of the Reaper, his features shifting to perfectly match his disguise.

Standing up, he adjusted the Reaper’s jacket. Behind him, the Dark Stalker remained in its camouflaged state, following his lead as they approached the tunnel's entrance. No Reapers paid him any mind as he walked in, blending seamlessly into the crowd. The Dark Stalker remained invisible, slipping through the gaps unnoticed, just as planned, and kept to the ceiling.

Damian moved deeper into the tunnel, eyes scanning his surroundings for any signs of resistance or trouble. The tunnel was crawling with Reapers, each stationed in strategic positions to guard Sasha’s stronghold. It was clear she was preparing for something big—something Damian knew, she planned to take over the Neon district completely and push out any form of resistance.

Making his way to the tunnel's center, Damian spotted Sasha. She sat on a throne-like chair, her back straight, her expression cold and dazed. Several tubes that had once been connected to the tar pumps were now removed from her body, leaving only faint scars where they had once burrowed into her skin. Around her, Reapers moved with robotic precision, but their attention was fixed on maintaining their positions.