Damian observed Sasha closely, his smile one of satisfaction as he saw his creation coming to life, not just in form but in function. She had taken to the transformation well, stronger and clearer than before, and now it was time to test the final piece.

"Create your tar," Damian ordered, his voice calm and authoritative.

Sasha hesitated for only a moment before lifting her hand. A mass of black, viscous tar seeped from her pores, pooling around her feet before spreading outward. To her surprise, the act felt effortless, unlike before, when the expulsion of tar drained her energy and left her feeling weak. Now, it was like breathing—natural, easy.

"It no longer weakens me," she muttered, glancing at Damian. "I can feel the power behind it, but it doesn't take anything from me."

"Good, I thought it might," Damian said, nodding approvingly. "Now, fire it at the infiltrator."

Sasha complied, launching a jet of tar at the sleek creature Damian had just created. The tar struck its surface, and instantly, Sasha felt the mental link form between her and the infiltrator. She closed her eyes, focusing on the connection, exploring its mind. It was there—primitive, instinctual, with no real sense of self beyond what she imposed upon it. Its intelligence was limited, but it was enough for her to control it fully or issue commands without resistance.

"It's... interesting," Sasha remarked as she opened her eyes, watching the infiltrator shift under her control. "Its sense of self is so low. I can order it, or I can just... take over entirely. It obeys without question, unlike the Reapers."

Damian’s smile widened. "That's exactly what I wanted to hear. Good. Now, control it. Have it shapeshift into the form of yourself you saw in my memories."

Sasha concentrated, sending a mental command through the link. The infiltrator’s body rippled, its form twisting and reshaping itself as it adopted the features of Sasha's old, monstrous self—the bald head, the gray skin, the sharp claws. It was uncanny, like staring at a reflection of a version of herself that no longer existed.

As the transformation completed, Sasha stared at the creature in silence for a moment. There was something deeply unsettling about seeing her old self, yet she felt strangely detached from it. This was who she had been, but it no longer resonated with her. The obsessive rage that had once defined her felt like a distant memory now, a relic of a past she had transcended.

"This was me," she said quietly, her voice filled with a strange sort of wonder. "But I feel... disconnected from it."

Damian stepped forward, his eyes flicking between Sasha and the infiltrator. "That’s because you’ve evolved. You're no longer the deranged woman you once were, blinded by obsession. You're stronger, smarter, and far more valuable to me now. That old version of you is nothing more than a shell."

Sasha nodded slowly, understanding. She had been reborn, remade into something far greater than the broken creature she had once been. She had a new purpose now, one that transcended the petty desires that had once consumed her.

"Now," Damian said, his tone commanding again, "shift into your human form. We’re done here, and it's time to leave."

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Sasha complied without hesitation. Her monstrous form faded away, replaced by her new human guise—the dark skin, the flowing brown hair, the striking yet subtle features that Damian had crafted. She tugged the hood of her red winter coat up over her head, casting her face in shadow. It felt strange, yet comfortable. This was her new identity, one that would allow her to blend in with the world while hiding the deadly power that lurked beneath the surface.

As she adjusted to the transformation, something else clicked into place—memories. Damian’s memories. She could see them clearly now, laid out in her mind. She saw the world they inhabited, the events that had unfolded, and the timeline that stretched before them. She also saw the threat that loomed on the horizon.

"Cole... and the First Sons," Sasha murmured, her voice thoughtful. "They’ll be here in a couple of days." Damian didn’t respond at first, but the acknowledgment hung in the air.

But what caught Sasha by surprise was the realization that, for the first time in what felt like forever, the thought of Cole, or Kessler, stirred nothing in her. No anger, no obsession, no need to prove herself or win his affection. He was nothing more than a player in the game now, a piece on the board that she could manipulate or destroy as needed.

"It’s strange," she said aloud, her voice distant as she stared at her hands. "I feel... nothing. No attachment to Cole. No hatred for Kessler. It’s like they don’t matter anymore."

Damian smiled approvingly, crossing his arms. "That’s because they don’t. Not to you, not anymore. You’ve moved beyond them. Cole is just another obstacle, and Kessler... well, he’s not even worth considering. You have a new purpose now, Sasha—one that doesn’t revolve around anyone but yourself and to the collective."

Sasha glanced at him, a slow smile curling her lips. "I like the sound of that."

Leaving the Jefferson Tunnel was a simple task. The Reapers, still firmly under Sasha's tar-based control, stood motionless as she and Damian walked past them. Their vacant expressions and unflinching posture reminded Sasha of her own previous minions, but this time, the control was even more seamless. Damian’s enhancements made her tar far more effective, and the Reapers were now nothing more than tools, awaiting further commands.

As they stepped out into the night air, the city seemed eerily quiet. The distant sound of sirens and the hum of traffic barely registered to Sasha, who was still adjusting to her new state. Beside her, Damian moved with the same confident ease, guiding her through dark alleys until they arrived at their destination: Oscar’s Medical Supply.

Sasha raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "This is supposed to be our new base?"

Damian chuckled softly, clearly amused by her skepticism. "It's better than an underground tunnel, and they don’t do much business here. It’s practically abandoned, which makes it perfect for us. Besides," he added with a sly grin, "it’s inconspicuous mostly thanks to you though."

Sasha glanced around the store, still not entirely convinced but willing to defer to Damian’s judgment. As they moved through the dimly lit aisles of medical supplies, something else caught her attention—a presence.

Damian whistled softly, a low sound that echoed through the quiet space. Almost immediately, the Dark Stalker appeared, slipping out from the shadows where it had been silently following them. Its hulking form was both stealthy and intimidating, moving with the grace of a predator as per Damian's designs.

Sasha's eyes narrowed as she stepped closer to the creature. She knew of the Dark Stalker, and had seen it from Damian’s memories, but this was her first time seeing it in person. Its grotesque, yet fascinating form exuded power, its body a seamless fusion of organic engineering. She reached out, placing her hand on its smooth skin. As her fingers brushed its surface, she felt it—another connection forming, similar to the one she had with the infiltrator.

Her mind briefly touched the Stalker's consciousness. It was different from the infiltrator—less humanoid, more primal, but there was an intelligence there, one rooted in a hunter’s instincts. It wasn’t a mind meant for intricate thought or strategy; this was a creature designed for two things: killing and infecting.

"It’s like the infiltrator," Sasha murmured, her voice tinged with curiosity. "I can control it, or... I could take full control if I wanted to."

Damian nodded approvingly. "Exactly. The Dark Stalker is yours now, just like the infiltrator. You can use them however you see fit. Per my design it’s more useful in the shadows, picking off targets silently. It follows orders with perfect obedience, but when needed, you can merge your will with its own and command it as an extension of yourself."

Sasha ran her hand along the Stalker’s back, feeling the sleekness of its form. The power coursing beneath its skin intrigued her. She could feel its predatory nature, waiting for a command. It was patient, calculating, and perfect for the tasks Damian had in mind.

"This will be useful," she said, her voice thoughtful. "I can already think of several ways to use it."

"Good," Damian replied, his tone approving. "You’ll get to test those ideas soon. I have a colleague in the Historic District that I need brought over to me, alive by the way. But before we dive into that, I want you to familiarize yourself with your new abilities, and your new minions. Master them, because this will require a little effort on your part, so I need you at your best."