Infamous Shifter’s Genesis

A few people nearby, bundled up in shabby clothes and crouched under makeshift shelters, stared at her in a mixture of confusion and wonder. The sight of a woman jumping from a boat with a man slung over her shoulder wasn’t exactly something they saw every day, but Sasha paid them no mind. Her focus was singular, and her destination was clear: Oscar's supply store in the Neon District.

 

As she walked through the streets, Dallas began to stir. His eyelids fluttered, and he groaned as he slowly regained consciousness. Sasha, growing impatient, dropped him to the ground with a thud. He yelped, clutching his side as he looked up at her, disoriented.

 

"Where are we?" Dallas asked, rubbing his head.

 

Sasha glanced down at him with disinterest. "Neon District."

 

"You... you knocked me out!" Dallas stammered, still processing the situation.

 

Sasha shrugged, unbothered by his accusation. "I was tired of your voice. And if you keep talking, I’ll do it again."

 

Dallas quickly clamped his mouth shut, fear overriding any protest he might have had. Seeing his silence, Sasha smirked. "Good boy. Now follow me."

 

With that, she led the way, her pace brisk. Dallas stumbled after her doing his best to keep up. They weaved through narrow streets and dimly lit alleyways until the familiar sight of Oscar's supply store came into view. Just as Sasha reached for the door, it swung open.

 

Damian stood in the doorway, a smile playing on his lips. "Looks like you two made it here without too much trouble," he said casually.

 

Sasha shrugged, brushing past him as she entered. Dallas lingered outside for a moment, glancing nervously between Damian and the street behind him.

 

"You coming in or not?" Damian asked, raising an eyebrow.

 

Dallas swallowed hard and stepped inside. No sooner had he crossed the threshold than Sasha unceremoniously dropped his luggage onto the floor with a loud thud.

 

"Careful!" Dallas yelped, rushing over to check his equipment. "There's sensitive stuff in there!"

 

Sasha shot him a cold, disinterested glance, and Dallas immediately backed off, stepping away from the pile. Satisfied with his retreat, Damian chuckled. "Sorry about that," he said, gesturing to a nearby chair. "Have a seat."

 

Dallas reluctantly sat down, his heart racing as Sasha disappeared into the back of the store. Damian pulled up a chair and sat across from him, his expression softening just enough to seem approachable—but not trustworthy.

 

"So, Dallas," Damian began, his voice low and even, "I kept my word. You're somewhat safe for now. But if you really want to survive this mess, you're going to need help—mine and my associates'."

 

Dallas fidgeted nervously. "What do you want me to do?"

 

Damian's smile widened slightly, his eyes narrowing. "Simple. I want you to do what you were already doing: be the Voice of Survival. Help the citizenry, guide them. But this time, you'll be sending the messages you want plus one ot two that I give you. You'll tell them what I want them to hear."

 

Dallas stared at Damian, the weight of the request—or rather, the demand—bearing down on him. "You want me to work for you?"

 

"Think of it more as... a partnership," Damian replied, leaning back. "You help me control the narrative only by a tiny bit. In exchange, I ensure you’re not left for dead in this city. I think that’s a fair deal."

 

Dallas felt a knot form in his stomach. He had no desire to be anyone's pawn, but with everything that had happened, it was clear he didn’t have much of a choice.

 

Dallas swallowed hard, his mind racing as he considered his options—or lack thereof. He was trapped. Damian's offer was a lifeline, but one that came with heavy chains attached. If he declined, he risked being left to fend for himself in a city that had already proven deadly. But if he accepted, he would be giving up control of his voice, his message. He'd be letting someone else dictate what the people heard, what they believed.

 

"I... I don't know if I can do that," Dallas finally muttered, his voice shaky. "People trust me. They've been through so much already. If they find out I'm manipulating them—"

 

"They won't," Damian interrupted smoothly, his voice carrying a calm authority that made Dallas uneasy. "You'll still be helping them, just with a little... guidance. All I ask is for you to inject a few ideas into their heads now and then. You'll still be their beacon of hope, their Voice of Survival. But you'll be mine as well."

 

Dallas opened his mouth to protest, but Damian leaned forward, his expression hardening. "You don't have much of a choice, Dallas. The way I see it, you're either with me, or you're on your own. And I can promise you, out there... on your own, you won't last long. Besides nothing I tell you will be a lie. So what you say eh partner."

 

Dallas sat frozen, the weight of Damian's words settling in. He glanced down at his hands, trembling slightly, as he processed the reality of his situation. Damian was right—out there, alone, he didn’t stand a chance. The city was unforgiving, and he had already barely survived this long. Still, the thought of manipulating people, even if it was just "a little guidance," gnawed at him.

 

But did he really have a choice? Refusing could mean certain death, and he knew it. His instincts screamed at him to take the deal, to survive no matter the cost. But another part of him—a part that still clung to the integrity he once had—hesitated.

 

"You're asking me to play with people's lives," Dallas whispered, his voice barely audible. "How do I know you won’t turn this into something darker?"

 

Damian's eyes gleamed in the dim light of the supply store. "Dallas, I don’t need you to be a villain. I just need you to help keep things... balanced. People need hope. If they believe everything’s in chaos, they’ll lose their minds. All I want is to help you prevent that. To help you save lives. Don’t you want that?"

 

There was a beat of silence. Damian’s words seemed reasonable on the surface, and yet Dallas knew there was more beneath them—something he couldn’t quite see, but felt.

 

Sasha emerged from the back of the store, her cold gaze scanning the room. She didn’t say anything, but her presence alone was a reminder of how little control Dallas had in the situation. His chest tightened, anxiety threatening to overtake him.

 

"Fine," Dallas said at last, his voice weak. "I’ll do it. But I won’t lie to them. Not outright."

 

Damian leaned back, a satisfied grin spreading across his face. "I knew you’d see things my way. Welcome aboard, partner."