The old power substation sat at the northeastern edge of the city where the urban sprawl gave way to open ground. There, a squat concrete structure stood surrounded by rusted fencing, its equipment long since stripped or destroyed, its walls tagged with the particular graffiti of a world that no longer existed.
The ground around it was flat and open in every direction, which was either a tactical disadvantage or an invitation depending on who was standing in it.
Damon was leaning against the outer wall when they arrived.
Not crouched behind cover. Not positioned for ambush. Just standing there with his arms crossed and his sword at his hip, watching them come across the open ground with the unhurried expression of someone who had been waiting and found the wait rather amusing.
The necromancer slowed his approach slightly when he saw him, just a fraction of a second slower than before.
