As Damian and Trish made their way back to the clinic with the boxes of medical supplies in hand, Damian took the opportunity to inquire about Cole's condition. He asked, "How's Cole doing? Is he getting better?"
Trish's response held a note of surprise and amazement. "He's doing quite well, actually. His burns are healing incredibly fast. I've never seen anything like it."
While Trish found Cole's recovery remarkable, Damian couldn't help but chuckle inwardly. Being aware of Cole's Conduit abilities, he knew that the healing process would be swift. He thought to himself, 'Well yeah, he's a conduit, so of course he'd heal fast. Actually, if he absorbed some electricity, he'd be up and about today.'
"I'm glad to hear he's recovering," said Damian as he thought to himself, 'Well if my memories are correct, he should awaken by tomorrow. Then he'll have about two days to get the hang of his powers before things really start. Anyways, we should hurry. Sasha should have already started building her faction, so I'd like to avoid the Reapers.'
As Damian and Trish made their way back to the clinic, arms full with boxes of medical supplies, the stillness of the streets was shattered by a woman's scream—sharp, raw, and unmistakably terrified. Damian instinctively tensed, but before he could say a word, Trish had already shoved her box onto his stack and bolted in the direction of the scream.
"Damn it," Damian muttered, adjusting his grip and rushing after her.
They rounded a corner and were met with a grim tableau. They skidded around a corner—and froze.
Two Reapers stood over a fresh corpse. Both wore the gang's signature blood-red trench coats, their faces hidden behind skull-painted masks. One held an assault rifle; the other, a long-barreled shotgun.
The victim lay sprawled in the street, face contorted in terror, eyes open and lifeless. The Reaper with the rifle noticed them first.
"Get down!" Damian shouted, dropping the boxes.
Gunfire erupted.
He dove toward Trish, pushing her to the ground as bullets tore through the air. Several struck him square in the chest—thudding into his dense biomass with sickening force but failing to penetrate deeply.
He sprang up, instincts kicking in. Enhanced by the cheetah's speed and reflexes, he dashed left in a blur, circling around the Reaper with the rifle. The second Reaper raised his shotgun, but Damian was already gone—zigzagging unpredictably, closing the distance.
He appeared behind the rifleman and grabbed him by the torso. Sparks ignited across his palms.
A violent jolt of bio-electricity surged through the man's body. The Reaper convulsed, screamed, then collapsed, limbs twitching and smoking.
The second Reaper shouted something unintelligible and fired, narrowly missing Damian. The blast tore a chunk out of the concrete wall behind him.
Damian ducked low and lunged forward, tackling the shotgun-wielder. They hit the pavement hard. Before the Reaper could react, Damian slammed his hand against the man's chest and discharged another pulse of electricity.
The second Reaper stiffened and went limp. Smoke curled from under his mask as Damian shoved the body aside and stood, chest heaving.
He turned—his victory turning sour in an instant.
Trish was down.
She lay where he'd pushed her, blood soaking through her shirt. One of the initial rounds must've hit her. Her breaths came shallow and ragged, wet and uneven. A line of crimson trickled from the corner of her mouth.
"No, no, no…" Damian rushed to her side, dropping to his knees. Her wound was bad. Too much blood. He could already hear the death rattle in her chest.
Trish's hand reached up, trembling as she grabbed his arm. Her eyes found his, full of pain but clear.
"Damian…" she whispered. "Tell Cole… I'm sorry… and… I love him…"
Her voice broke on the last word as her eyes rolled back. Her hand slipped from his arm, her eyes fluttering shut.
Damian, with deep worry in his eyes, sighed and looked down at her. "Why don't you tell him yourself, Trish? Hold on."
Damian laid Trish on the ground and walked over to the dead reaper and victim. After removing the woman's top, he shifted to his biomass form, he promptly consumed them. Damian used the shirt from the lifeless woman to apply pressure on Trish's wound. He lifted her gently and cradled her in his arms, carefully carrying her as he headed towards Oscar's Medical.
His decision was fueled by the realization that time was of the essence. The closest option for getting Trish medical attention was Oscar's, and he knew they needed to act fast to have any chance of saving her life.
As Damian walked with Trish in his arms, the gravity of the situation weighed on him. Her life was hanging in the balance, and he couldn't help, but think about how the simple act of introducing her to Amanda had caused a cascade of events that would most likely end up with her dead. Although he was trying to save her his instincts told him this person would die so he should consume her. Looking at her in this state Damian knew it was true.
With a sense of urgency, Damian entered Oscar's Medical with Trish still in his arms. Oscar, the clinic's owner, was taken aback by the sudden entrance and the wounded woman in Damian's arms. "What happened?" he asked, concern evident in his voice.
Damian didn't waste any time explaining and asked for a place to set Trish down. Once he had her comfortably positioned, he made a request for specific medical supplies—a pair of pliers, a needle, thread, and alcohol. It was as if he had a clear understanding of what needed to be done.
Oscar hurriedly fetched the requested items, believing that Damian was also a doctor and had some knowledge of treating wounds. The urgency in the room was palpable as they prepared to do whatever they could to save Trish's life. Oscar deciding he would be in the way exited the room.
With a focused and determined expression, Damian began the process of removing the bullet from Trish's wound, his hands steady as he worked. However, as the bullet came free, a sudden gush of blood followed, indicating a far more severe injury than he had initially realized. Trish's face contorted in pain, and her labored breathing intensified.
It became apparent that the bullet had nicked an artery, causing her to bleed profusely. Damian's inherited skills and knowledge weren't sufficient to handle this dire situation. Panic and desperation filled the room as he struggled to stem the bleeding, but it was too late. Trish's life gradually slipped away, and despite his best efforts, Damian couldn't save her as his instincts had warned him.