Damian’s smirk widened into something darker as he watched Dals nod in agreement. The young man was clearly out of his depth, but desperation had a way of making people cooperate. “Good choice,” Damian said, his voice smooth. “Now, let's get to work.”

  Dals, still visibly shaken, took a deep breath and moved toward the stack of computers. He hesitated, his fingers hovering over the keys, before finally sitting down. “What exactly do you need me to do?” he asked, his voice shaky but trying to regain some composure.

  Damian leaned in slightly, his eyes fixed on the screens. “The First Sons have surveilnce in the area, especially around Sasha. They’ll have her under constant watch, and I need those eyes off her. Find their feeds, cut them off, or loop them I don’t care which. Do what you can so I can get close without raising any arms.”

  Dals’s hands started moving over the keyboard, typing rapidly as he accessed various networks and servers. “It’s not going to be easy. The First Sons have encrypted most of their communications and security systems, but I’ll see what I can do.” His voice was ced with uncertainty, but he kept working, eyes darting between multiple screens.

  Damian watched in silence for a few minutes, his senses still attuned to the electric hum around them. He could feel the number of devices Dals was tapping into, the flow of power sparking through the walls like invisible threads. As Dals worked, Damian’s mind wandered to Sasha. The thought of her being under Kessler’s surveilnce irritated him more than he cared to admit. While she was powerful, that didn’t mean she was safe. He needed to get to her quickly, and if Dals could disable the surveilnce or better yet loop the signal, it would make things much easier.

  “I’m in,” Dals suddenly announced, breaking Damian’s thoughts. “I’ve found the surveilnce feeds covering an area filled with Reapers that’s likely where Sasha’s holed up. It looks like they have drones patrolling the skies and a few stationary cameras inside the base.”

  “Can you take them down?” Damian asked, his tone demanding but calm.

  Dals chewed his lip, his fingers still dancing across the keys. “I can’t disable them completely, but I can loop the footage for a while. They don’t seem to check it often so that should give you enough time to slip through unnoticed, but it won’t st forever. They will probably notice within half a day.”

  “Good that’s all the time I’ll need,” Damian replied, stepping back and allowing Dals the space to work.

  The minutes ticked by as Dals worked his magic, rerouting feeds, looping footage, and disrupting the surveilnce network. Eventually, he looked up at Damian, his face pale but determined. “It’s done. You have about a twelve-hour window before they notice something’s wrong. After that, you’re on your own.”

  Damian’s smirk returned. “Plenty of time.” He turned to leave, pausing at the door to gnce back at Dals. “I’ll hold up my end of the deal. For now, stay hidden, no more broadcasts. I’ll take care of the problems on my end then I’ll come back for you. Pack the things you need and I’ll take you to a pce you can y low. Listen to and you just might make it out of this alive.”

  Without waiting for a response, Damian slipped out of the room and back into the decaying halls of the TV station. He had what he needed, and now it was time to get to Sasha. With the First Sons’ eyes temporarily blinded, he could move without worrying about Kessler’s men breathing down his neck.

  Damian emerged from the TV station, stepping back into the decaying streets of the Historic District. The faint hum of electrical signatures slowly faded as he moved away from the building, slipping into the shadows. He pulled out his burner phone, dialing a familiar number.

  Trish answered after a few rings, her voice tense. "Damian? What’s going on?"

  “I’m heading after Sasha now,” he said, keeping his voice low as he navigated through the alleyways, avoiding any lingering eyes. “I need you to make three doses of the compound. Leave them at Oscar’s pce. I’ll pick them up on my way through the Neon District.”

  There was a pause on the other end, followed by a heavy sigh. “You sure about this, Damian? Sasha’s dangerous and crazy. Besides I haven’t really tested the compound and I’m guessing on the doses. If the First Sons get wind of this, you could be walking into a trap.”

  “Don’t worry I’ve figured out a way to make them blind for a while,” he replied, his voice calm but firm. “Besides I don’t have a choice. She’s crucial to what I need. Just get the shots ready. I’ll handle the rest. You just focus on Cole.”

  “Alright,” Trish said, though her worry was clear. “I’ll have them mixed and waiting for you. You’ll have about four hours before they expire, so don’t waste time.”

  Damian smirked. “You know me. I’m always on time.”

  After hanging up, Damian let his senses guide him, feeling for a spot where the electric signals were faint. Once he found a secluded area far from the power grids and patrols, he shifted, his form melting into the familiar shape of the DARPA agent. The transformation was smooth, his muscles reforming and his skin adopting the agent’s distinct features. His clothes shifted to match the military uniform, and his posture adjusted to mimic the agent's stiff, professional demeanor.

  With his disguise complete, Damian made his way toward the bridge. The checkpoints leading out of the Historic District were tight, with DARPA agents stationed at every exit. He approached the guard post, spotting Charlie, one of the agents stationed at the bridge. Charlie waved him over with a bored expression.

  “Hey, man, what’s the rush?” Charlie asked, leaning against the checkpoint gate.

  Damian gave him a friendly grin, pying the part of the low-ranking DARPA grunt. “Not much, just on a lunch run. You know how it is—those guys at the base want their snacks, and I’m the lucky one who got picked.”

  Charlie snorted. “Lunch run? We’re supposed to be sticking to rations.”

  “Tell me about it,” Damian replied with a shrug. “But you know how it goes. They’re craving something sweet, and of course, I get sent to scavenge for it. Anything you want while I’m at it? Maybe a chocote bar?”

  Charlie ughed, shaking his head. “If you can find one, sure. Bring it back, and I’ll owe you.”

  “Deal,” Damian said with a nod, then waved as he passed through the checkpoint, heading toward the Warren.