Sasha, without a word, tossed a small device onto the table. It clattered against the wood, drawing Dallas' eyes. "Your new transmitter," she said flatly. "Make sure you don’t break it. I’d hate to have to get a new one."

Dallas looked at the device, his heart sinking further. He knew from this moment on, things would never be the same. He wasn’t just Dallas anymore, the Voice of Survival. He was now a pawn who would say what someone else wanted. Could he really live with that?

As Sasha moved to leave, Dallas remained seated, staring down at the transmitter. A part of him wanted to smash it, to throw it away and run as far as he could. But deep down, he knew he was trapped.

“Since you no longer have access to a lot of your previous equipment. We’ll have to make do with what we’ve got. The First Sons have a dish network all throughout Empire City, so if you can get into their network you won’t need an overly powerful signal like before. That also should make you harder to track so long as you know how to hide your tracks.” said Damian

Dallas kept looking at the device, “If they really have that then I should be able to access it just like I did with the cameras. Eventually, they’ll discover my intrusion and I can’t really hide where I am but I can disperse my trail making them think I could be anywhere in the Neon District.”

Damian nodded, clearly pleased with Dallas’ quick thinking. "Exactly. You know how to manipulate the systems, and that’s why I need you. We won’t ask you to work miracles, just keep them guessing long enough to keep them off your trail."

"I'll need some time to set everything up," Dallas said, not meeting Damian’s eyes. "It’s not like hacking into the First Sons’ network is going to be a walk in the park. They’ve upped their security since the last time I tried something like this."

Damian shrugged. "I trust you’ll figure it out. After all, if anyone can pull it off, it’s you." His voice was laced with a hint of condescension, but Dallas let it slide. He didn’t have the luxury of getting angry right now. He needed to survive.

Sasha, who had been standing by silently, gave a sharp nod. "Just make sure it’s done quickly. The longer you take, the more vulnerable we are."

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Dallas sighed, slipping the transmitter into his jacket pocket. "Yeah, I get it. I’ll do what I can."

"Good," Damian said, standing up and gesturing for Sasha to follow. "We’ll check back in soon. Don’t disappoint me, Dallas." As he was leaving he stopped and pointed to a folder on a counter to the left of Dallas, “There’s the little tidbit of info I promised you before.”

As the door closed behind them, Dallas reached for the folder. Inside was a picture of Cole holding the Raysphere with a sticky note that said this is what caused the explosion and the man in the picture activated it. Dallas’s grip on the folder tightened as he read the note.

As Damian and Sasha were headed for Trish’s clinic Sasha asked, “What was in that folder you gave him.”

“You know you would have to ask me if you’d just sync up now,” said Damian in response.

“Even if I did that now I’d have to do so again once you meet up with that woman and sync with her,” said Sasha.

“True. Anyways, what I gave him was evidence that Cole caused the explosion. Kessler wanted to use Dallas to reveal it so I’m helping him do so.” said Damian

Sasha raised an eyebrow at Damian’s explanation. "You think Dallas will go through with it? He doesn’t strike me as the type to spill something like that without a moral crisis."

Damian shrugged, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Moral crisis or not, he’ll have no choice. The truth is a powerful weapon, and with the right push, even the most hesitant people will wield it. Besides, whether Dallas realizes it or not, the second he broadcasts that message, he becomes even more valuable to me. Once the public knows the truth, chaos will follow. And when there's chaos..." Damian's eyes glinted dangerously, "there’s opportunity."

Sasha crossed her arms, frowning slightly. "And what about Cole? If Dallas outs him, things are going to escalate fast. We don’t know how he’ll react."

"That’s the point. Kessler’s plan did end up working," Damian replied, his tone casual but filled with intent. "The more pressure we put on Cole, the more isolated he becomes. He’ll have the entire city questioning him. And once he’s cornered, Trish will be there to play her part pushing him into the light. I need the hero to fight and weaken the Beast after all."

Sasha’s frown deepened, but she didn’t argue. She had her own reasons for following Damian’s lead, though she wasn’t as certain of his methods. But for now, she’d go along with his plan. Ultimately their goal was continued existance which she and Damian believed could be achieved with different actions. She was sure Trish would have her own vision.

As they approached Trish’s clinic, Damian glanced at Sasha. "You ready for this? I know you’re not a fan of this particular doctor."

Sasha scoffed. "I’ll manage. Trish is useful, even if she’s annoying. Just don’t expect me to bend over backward and play nice."

"Wouldn’t dream of it. Trish should be in the back room so let’s hurry," Damian said with a chuckle as they stepped into the clinic.

Inside Trish’s clinic, the sterile smell of antiseptic filled the air, mixed with the faint hum of medical equipment. Damian led the way, his casual demeanor masking the gravity of the situation. Sasha followed closely behind, her eyes scanning the space warily. The clinic was quiet, save for the occasional cough from a patient or the shuffle of nurses tending to the wounded.

As they moved deeper into the building, Sasha’s irritation bubbled just beneath the surface. She could tolerate Trish for the sake of survival, but she wasn’t thrilled about working with someone so fundamentally opposed to her methods. Trish, the ever-moral healer, and Sasha, the manipulative enforcer—it would be a partnership held together by necessity, not trust or understanding.

Damian paused at the entrance to the back room, glancing at Sasha with a smirk. "Try to keep the claws in," he teased, pushing the door open.