The cracked road gave way to smoother pavement the deeper Damian moved into the inner rings of the Hollow Stacks until he arrived in front of the Riftstack Lounge.
A place where the streets were just clean enough to pretend they weren't rotting beneath.
The holographic billboard above the entrance pulsed in glitching red and blue over a neon door, while the scent of cigarettes, oil, and cheap stimulants thickened in the air.
Kitsuul twitched on his shoulder, its nose wrinkling as it didn't seem to like this place.
Damian stepped through the metal doorway as no bouncers were stationed there. The Riftstack Lounge never needed them unless it was for its own private affairs!
—
Inside the Riftstack Lounge.
Dim red lighting lined the ceiling in jagged strips, casting reflections off metallic walls that seemed painted recently to cover something up.
Damian scanned the interior, taking in the throngs of people moving and dancing to pulsing techno music. Holographic dancers shimmered on a raised stage at the center, each movement fluid and mesmerizing.
The chatter of a few hundred patrons, the synth-heavy music, and the buzz of malfunctioning techs and implants formed a storm of noise that was far too loud and too artificial. Damian moved through the crowd as his eyes were searching.
His gaze passed over tables- circular, metallic, and surrounded by mismatched chairs scavenged from across a dozen design styles.
Humans. Androids. Cybernetic hybrids. They were all gathered here.
Androids with buzzing wheels under them and upper humanoid robotic bodies zipped between patrons, serving drinks with mechanical precision. Cybernetic Humans laughed too loudly, their augmented implants buzzing and flickering.
As for what they were all drinking? It could've been alcohol or motor oil, based on the smell!
Kitsuul's silver eyes seemed dazed as she took everything in, her six tails swaying side to side with the music as if she were entranced.
Damian moved steadily through the noise, scanning until…he found her.
Anastasia Veln.
She sat in the farthest booth, tucked into the shadows with her back pressed to the wall. A high-collared gray jacket layered over her usual work attire that was corporate blue and out of place in a place like this.
Her dark hair was wound into a tight bun. Her eyes looked sunken and tired as they were hidden behind thin, reflective glasses. She looked like someone who hadn't slept in weeks.
Yet the sight of her eyes and the silent rage burning within made her look like someone who wanted to burn the whole world down.
A full glass of Bluefire Spirit glowed faintly on the table in front of her as it was untouched.
Damian approached slowly.
Kitsuul remained nestled on his shoulder, her silver eyes dazed from the noise as she looked everywhere innocently.
Her eyes lifted as he neared, and she blinked like she hadn't expected him to actually come.
"Damian," she murmured, her voice quieter than usual and seeming tired and strained.
"You didn't need to come here."
She said this as her eyes dropped back to the glowing drink, lingering there as if she were deciding whether to surrender to it and disappear for a while.
"You texted from a bar at sunrise," Damian replied, flicking his dark coat back as he slid into the booth across from her. "Of course I came."
…!
Of course he would come.
Even after everything- after the blood, the silence, the heartbreak, they were still here.
They were still standing among the only survivors of the massacre.
They had no one else!
A flicker of emotion crossed her face and was gone too quickly to even read.
She looked away from her drink and leaned back, the dark shadows and lights of the noisy Riftstack Lounge curling beneath the rims of her glasses.
"You know what I did yesterday?" she asked as her voice was heavy with exhaustion.
"What?" Damian asked quietly, keeping his tone low as Kitsuul tilted its head, curiously eyeing the glowing glass of alcohol on the table.
"I spent twelve hours running diagnostics on a surveillance AI that flagged missing data streams. Everything tied to that day…it's been erased like it never happened. Not even a trace in even the most basic accessible archives that a low level Analyst like me has access to. ZENTHRA's machine did its magic again, this time more thorough than ever."
…!
Damian's eyes lit with a burning, dangerous gleam. His rage stirred as he barely held it in check!
They were still covering it up. Still burying the truth. And it wouldn't surprise him if the final part of their plan was finishing off the few who survived if they truly wanted to be thorough.
"But that's not news to you, is it?" Anastasia asked, her voice bitter.
"You know what they've been doing. So why are you really here? You didn't just come to check on me."
He stared at her for a long moment as if he was making a heavy decision. Then, with a fire barely contained in his chest, he finally spoke.
"I need your access. I need to track the movements, the habits, weaknesses…everything there is to know about the Drunken Butcher."
…!
The Drunken Butcher.
That was the name they'd given Vex Talon.
Anastasia, as a Systems Analyst for ZENTHRA who was unwilling to go there anymore worked directly under the very machine that protected him.
She raised a brow at Damian's request, then shook her head slowly.
"All that… for what? Even if you knew what he ate, where he shat, how many prostitutes he slept with every night, what then? What can we do?"
"And more than that, the second I even try to access anything tied to the Drunken Butcher, I'll be pinged. Instantly. You know if I'm caught…"
She shook her head as if it were impossible.
But Damian was insistent!
"You won't be caught." Damian interrupted. "And even if you are, I'll protect you. I—"
"Protect me? You couldn't protect her."
…!
BOOM.
The words hit like a fucking nuclear bomb.
Silence fell between them.
A thick silence. A cold silence. A crippling silence!
Damian closed his eyes briefly as he breathed.
And he kept them closed as he breathed again.
When he opened them, the pain within them was still there, alongside his rage, it was still seething beneath the surface.
Anastasia inhaled shakily as regret flickered through her expression. She leaned forward.
"I'm sorry. I know you're trying to fix it, I do. But this? Going after ZENTHRA? Going after him? It's suicide. They'll erase you faster than the quickest cybernetic stimulant."
…!
She wasn't wrong.
She was a realist. Always had been.
And taking on an Interstellar Beast Master? That wasn't war as much as it was a death sentence.
Damian nodded slowly.
"Mmm. It would've been suicide before. But an Interstellar Beast Master going after another Interstellar Beast Master…that's not suicide."
He said it softly. Just for her to hear.
The music throbbed around them, heavy and robotic as their words stayed between them, unheard by anyone else.
Anastasia turned her head as if she'd misheard him, as if she had to replay the sentence again and again to process it.
Then…she nearly jolted from her seat.
"What?!"