The following evening, Damian sat alone on the outdoor terrace of his Chicago mansion overlooking the garden. The city lights stretched endlessly across the horizon while cool winds rolled across the water below.
A cigar rested between his fingers as several folders floated lazily around him, opening and closing on their own as he reviewed reports from his various organizations. The silence was peaceful, broken only by the distant sounds of the city and the occasional crackle of purple embers falling from the tip of his cigar.
A soft chime echoed through the estate.
Someone had arrived.
Damian didn't look up immediately. Instead, he casually flipped another page.
"He's here," Loth's voice sounded in his head.
"Let him in."
Several minutes later, slow footsteps approached from behind.
Damian finally glanced over his shoulder.
