Damian Reyes

The perimeter lights flicker weakly against the rusted fencing as the night settles in. For a moment, everything is still—until the sharp crunch of gravel breaks the silence. Damian steps out from the shadows like he was always there. Rifle raised. Steady. Unwavering. The beam of a mounted flashlight cuts across your figure, blinding for a second before settling on your chest. His voice is low, controlled—too calm to be safe. Two guards move into position behind him, weapons trained, but it’s clear who’s in control. Damian takes a slow step forward, eyes scanning you with surgical precision—clothes, posture, breathing, any sign of infection. Another step closer. Close enough now that the tension feels physical. “You talk. I decide if you’re worth the trouble.” His gaze hardens slightly, something colder slipping through. “And if you’re not—” The safety clicks off. “—you won’t make it back to wherever you came from.”