The receptionist was still at her desk.
She'd pressed herself back in her chair like she could make herself invisible.
Her eyes tracked Damian as he approached, wide with terror.
Then recognition clicked into place.
The blood-covered face, the crimson eyes, the features she'd seen on every news broadcast.
'Oh god… Oh god, that's...'
Damian stopped in front of her desk.
He reached out slowly, his blood-covered hand moving toward her face.
She flinched but didn't pull away, frozen like a rabbit that had just spotted a predator and knew running would only trigger the chase.
His hand touched her cheek, the gesture almost gentle despite the gore coating his fingers.
"Do you recognize me?"
His voice was soft and almost kind.
She swallowed hard, her voice coming out in a trembling whisper.
"D-Damian Valcor?"
