Post by Khaos on Feb 8, 2021 18:27:47 GMT -5
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(Writer's Note: this Roleplay features thematic elements such as an attempted sexual assault and violence/death)
(Writer's Note: this Roleplay features thematic elements such as an attempted sexual assault and violence/death)
The sun set on the city of Los Angeles, California; bringing with it all the sins only the “City of Angels” could afford. It was the weekend, perfect time for everyone to blow off some steam and indulge in their extracurricular activities. For Damien Carter, it was just another day of trying to survive in a world that constantly tried to devour him. For whatever reason though, he ended up being nothing more than “tainted meat”, constantly chewed up and spit back out. For Damien, a man that stood at an imposing six-foot-two-inches and weighing in at two-hundred-and-forty-five pounds, he did not seem all that intimidating in this moment. He hunched next to a fire barrel for warmth, rubbing his hands over the flames as the crisp fall air had since faded away into a wintery breeze, traces of snowflakes falling around him. The snow melted before it could even touch the ground, but it was still cold enough that one’s appendages could suffer from long-term exposure, especially with the howling winds. Damien was safe from the gusty gale, at least for the time being, as he remained in his sanctuary for the evening, an alley just off the corner of the bustling L.A. nightlife, various clubs and exquisite restaurants adorning the street. He flexed the warmth back into his fingers as Damien looked over to the side, another barrel full of trash waiting for him to scrounge through it for his meal of the day. A few rats had already beaten him to the punch as he simply brushed them aside; using this opportunity to see what was left. As Damien found the remnants of what looked to be, at one point, a hamburger, voices broke him from his concentration. The party had started a little too early for these two as the seemingly intoxicated couple stumbled into his alley, the man forcing the woman up against the wall as his mouth went to hers, one hand gripping her tightly around the throat so she couldn’t pull away from his embrace. Damien watched for but a moment as he was intrigued by the way their lips met as the man forced himself on his drunken victim. Love seemed like such a foreign concept to him, he wasn’t sure if he had every truly loved, or been loved, not in this way – not in any way, perhaps once before…
Damien grumbled as he forced the memory from his mind, turning away from the couple. Though his eyes and starving belly remained focused on his task at hand, his ears betrayed him; every word from the man’s mouth ringing in his ears. All the things that he wanted to do to his ensnared prey, the ways that he planned on “making her feel good”. Damien knew very little about love, but he knew enough about evil… and the feeling that he was getting now, it was tough to ignore, try as he might.
“Can’t you find somewhere else to do that?” Damien hissed, keeping his back to the couple as he continued to rummage through the trash.
This caught the attention of the young man, who turned and looked down the alley to see who would dare speak to him this way. He was a man of considerable wealth, of that… Damien had no doubt. The way he dressed, the way he acted, like this little prick thought he owned the fucking world and he wanted everyone to know it. Damien was but a peasant to this man, and his clothes solidified this very point. It had been a few years since he had worn any new garments, every day of his life living in the same threads “gifted to him” by his friend and mentor. Of course, as all things in this life, nothing ever comes for free. Damien had looked his best self then, his hair cut clean, almost to the scalp, as befitting a soldier like him. With it, he wore a military style black tactical vest, complimented by a brown lambskin faux fur shearling leather coat – the once onyx vest now faded into a color that better resembled coal, his dark brown coat not fairing much better, resembling something that looked more like vomit. To complete the ensemble, he wore a pair of black combat military cotton pants with a pair of black durashock side zip military boots. At first glance, you would think Damien nothing more than a washed-out combat vet, and you would only be half wrong. Problem was… the type of combat that Damien was used to doing battle in wasn’t exactly of the “normal” variety.
“Why don’t you get lost you homeless piece of shit?” the entitled youth sneered back, paying Damien no mind and turning back to his victim once more.
Damien cracked his neck to the side out of annoyance. There it was again, that damn itch. Something about this man bothered him and he was struggling to ignore it. At the time, Damien had been hunched over barrels of fire and trash, never truly revealing his true size. Perhaps it was time he showed him just what type of “piece of shit” he truly was. Standing upright, Damien shrugged his shoulders and let the coat fall free from his body as he turned to face the couple. The fire licked at his back, as if reaching out to engulf him where he stood. He felt the heat on his back as he closed his eyes tightly once more, struggling to hold back the memories.
The fire seemed to dance across her fingers as she held tightly to the sigil in her palm…
He watched as the once silver medallion turned to bright red…
Blinding pain then, as the pendant found its way to his flesh, directly over his heart…
He had been marked…
He shook away the image as he turned his gaze to the couple, now seeing that the woman had her face and chest up against the wall. The entitled youth had managed to slip her skirt and panties down as he held her still with one hand, while savagely working to unbuckle his belt. The man let out a sadistic laugh, reveling in this moment and all of its glory. Too late did he realize the danger he was in as Damien was now standing beside him, his strong grip digging into his shoulder. With a loud “yelp”, the man was thrown away from the woman and onto his back, the hard fall to the ground knocking the air from his lungs.
“What the hell-“ the little prick began, before Damien was now kneeling over him, his grip closing around his throat.
Damien closed his eyes as he squeezed his fingers around the man’s neck, every one of his senses coming alive with the pure evil that was emanating off this entitled youth. Damien was cursed with the darkness, could sense it all around him. In these moments, of direct contact, he could feel it consume him; could feel the sin as if it were his own. This had not been the first time this man had done something like this, but it would be the last.
The flash of steel danced in the moonlight as the entitled youth had managed to fumble his hands around his concealed pocket knife, flipping the blade open and burying it deep into Damien’s side. He grunted as the knife penetrated through his worn-down body armor, piercing flesh. His tight grip on the man’s throat released as Damien glanced down at the wound, smelling the all-too-familiar stench of blood before his eyes saw the crimson liquid leaking out of him. Again, the memories flooded back to him, despite his best effort to keep them at bay.
His wrists shackled, his arms bound above his head…
The snap of the whip, causing him to flinch even before it flayed his back…
The cold steel pressing against his skin, the teeth of the blade cutting into his chest…
The intense fire that followed, cauterizing the wounds so he wouldn’t bleed out…
Damien was rudely awakened from his trance by a kick to the face as the little prick had managed to take this time to stumble back to his feet. The blow had caught him square in the face, blood now trickling from his nose and his lip. The man began to feel confident, like he actually had a fighting chance. This would be his ultimate downfall. He went for another kick, to which Damien simply leaned away from. Catching the man’s leg and pinning it to his shoulder, Damien pulled violently down, dislocating the entitled youth’s kneecap and almost breaking his leg entirely. The man crumpled to the ground, whimpering and sobbing like a petulant whelp, hysterically grasping at his wounded limb. Damien spit the blood from his mouth and wrapped his fingers around the pocket knife sticking out of his side. Gritting his teeth, Damien freed the blade from his gut with a quick tug, turning his attention back once more to the little prick. The man offered up some sort of apology and pleaded for his life but Damien had seen enough of this man’s soul to know what needed to be done. Stabbing down, the knife disappeared into the youth’s eye, embedding itself directly into his brain, killing him instantly. Damien paused for a moment, as if he expected the man to rise from the dead and attack him once more. When this didn’t happen – and trying not to be disappointed by this fact – he forced his way to his feet as the sound of soft clapping echoed off the alley walls. Damien turned back to where he had been trying to enjoy his leisurely dinner, seeing a dark-skinned man step from the shadows, almost as if he had just materialized from the very darkness itself. He wore a black-as-night robe, the hood hanging just over his eyes as he continued to “congratulate” Damien.
“And how long have you been there?” Damien scowled, clutching at his wounded side.
“Long enough to see that you’ve gotten sloppy,” the robed-man retorted, his gaze turning to the woman.
Damien looked over to see the woman now cowering on the ground, doing her best to pull her underwear and skirt back up but her body shaking from the trauma. Cautiously, he approached her, kneeling down and placing a hand on her shoulder. Damien felt her tense up at his touch but he had to be sure that she was neither a threat to him, nor his next victim. He sensed no such darkness from her, realizing that her only sin was to trust a man like the one he had just killed moments ago.
“This one doesn’t belong to you,” Damien answered, holding her hands until they stopped trembling.
“A pity,” the dark figure sniffed, gliding across the ground with such elegance he appeared he was almost floating.
The robed-man came to stand by Damien’s victim, placing his hand over his chest as if feeling for a heartbeat. Dark energy swirled around the dark figure’s palm, absorbing the tortuous soul within – a scene that seemed to cause the man’s chest cavity to collapse inward. If he hadn’t been dead before, he surely was now. Damien did his best to keep his body in the way of the young lady’s gaze, so as to spare her the horrendous sight behind him. She had been drugged, he had seen as much when he had reached out into the darkness and saw the sins of the entitled youth. It appeared to be his pattern, to find someone eager and willing at a bar, get a few drinks in, before slipping them something that would make them docile. The women would become his “plaything” for the next few hours and if any blow back ever came back from his nightly conquests, he had the money and means to make it, and them, disappear.
“Does ‘Crescent’ mean anything to you?” Damien asked, risking a glance over his shoulder.
The robed-man stood upright again, having got what he came for. The need for these theatrics really wasn’t necessary; he would’ve gotten this dark soul any which way, had he just been patient enough. Damien knew this fact as well, so knew that there was another reason for this little visit.
“Can’t say that it does,” the dark figure casually retorted, grabbing a hold of the entitled youth’s wrist and dragging him in the direction of the fire barrel. “Should it…?”
Damien had seen something within the darkness, leading him to believe that this man was a part of some greater evil. He had taken a stab in the dark, assuming that was why his “friend” was here. But if not that, then what was the purpose of this sudden reappearance after almost a year of being left alone?
“Maybe it’s nothing,” Damien responded, standing up and turning away from the girl. “Maybe it’s something… I won’t know until I look into it...”
“No time for that now,” the robed-man interrupted, pulling the youth towards the fire barrel.
With unnatural strength, the dark figure lifted the entitled youth into the air by his wrist and ceremoniously dumped him into the blaze; as if he was doing nothing more than placing trash into a dumpster. The fire unnaturally devoured the dead man almost in an instant as Damien watched uncomfortably as the flames grew higher.
Silver medallion…
Blinding pain…
He had been marked…
Damien shook free from the memory of his captivity as his hand apprehensively went over his heart, practically feeling the heat rising from the brand. The robed-man turned away from his disposing of the body and knelt down to retrieve the coat Damien had dropped onto the ground. Brushing the dirt off, he glided over to him, presenting him with the gift he had, long ago, provided for him.
“Don’t take this the wrong way…” the dark figure started, looking upon Damien as if truly seeing him for the first time. “But you look absolutely horrendous. When was the last time you showered? Or had a decent meal? And these clothes…?”
“Save it,” Damien snapped back, snatching the coat from the robed-man’s hands. “You and I both know you’re only here because you need something from me…”
In an instant, the dark figure was before Damien, taking no pleasure in his tone with him.
“Do I need to remind you of just who the hell I am!?” the robed-man threatened.
The anger seethed from every pore of the dark figure and, with it, an aura of darkness that absorbed any and all source of light. Damien might as well just have fallen into the deepest pit inside of the darkest cave, for he could barely see a few inches from his face. Behind him, he heard the girl weeping as he was sure this whole experience, as traumatic as it was, had just gotten that much worse. Damien wasn’t afraid of the darkness or this man… if you even wanted to call him that. Truth be told, this dark figure had done more for him than anyone else on this earth. Though he might’ve been foolish to think of him as a father once, he now knew he was nothing more than an investment in some future yet to be written. It would seem like a waste for this robed-man to grant Damien his long overdue death now, but if now was indeed his time… he would embrace it with open arms.
“Only you, Damien, have ever dared to talk to me like that,” the dark figure smirked, the darkness dissipating. “That’s why you’re my favorite.”
“So what do you require of me this time, Erebus?” Damien questioned.
“Actually,” Erebus grinned, relishing in the moment. “I’m here to fulfill a promise I made to you long ago Damien; I found her!”
For a moment, Damien wasn’t sure he had heard him correctly. Instinctively, his eyes went wide and his heart skipped a beat. So she was alive, he had often wondered what fate had befallen her. However, in this moment, he wasn’t sure if he was relieved or angry. Again, his hand itched at the reminder on his chest, her words echoing in his head.
“You belong to me now…”
He had been marked…
“Where is she!?” Damien snarled.
“I’ll tell you all, in due time my friend,” Erebus stated, placing a hand on Damien’s shoulder. “Right now, you have other pressing matters to attend to.”
Damien glanced down at his wound, and then back at the helpless girl. It had been years of him searching for any trace or sign of her, what were a few more hours in the grand scheme of things. He nodded his head in understanding.
“Right,” Damien agreed. “I’ll take care of the girl and then find you… you’ll clean up here?”
“Do I look like a fucking cleaning service?” Erebus rhetorically asked. “I have minions for this kind of thing.”
Damien, himself, felt like just another one of his minions… but at least he was considered to be the “favorite”. Turning around, he assisted the woman in fitting the garments back onto her body as best as he could, the little prick having been rather aggressive and ripping her clothes so that they hung loosely around her person. Damien offered up his own coat to conceal her as best as he could before he helped her to her feet. The drugs still very much in her system, he could tell that her walking the streets was going to be more trouble than it was actually worth. Hoisting her up into his arms, Damien turned back to see that Erebus had not stuck around to watch this display of human compassion, no doubt slithering back into the shadows from whence he came.
“A-are you g-going to k-kill m-me?” the woman boldly asked.
"Not today,” Damien matter-of-factly stated, carrying her out of the alley.
Damien grumbled as he forced the memory from his mind, turning away from the couple. Though his eyes and starving belly remained focused on his task at hand, his ears betrayed him; every word from the man’s mouth ringing in his ears. All the things that he wanted to do to his ensnared prey, the ways that he planned on “making her feel good”. Damien knew very little about love, but he knew enough about evil… and the feeling that he was getting now, it was tough to ignore, try as he might.
“Can’t you find somewhere else to do that?” Damien hissed, keeping his back to the couple as he continued to rummage through the trash.
This caught the attention of the young man, who turned and looked down the alley to see who would dare speak to him this way. He was a man of considerable wealth, of that… Damien had no doubt. The way he dressed, the way he acted, like this little prick thought he owned the fucking world and he wanted everyone to know it. Damien was but a peasant to this man, and his clothes solidified this very point. It had been a few years since he had worn any new garments, every day of his life living in the same threads “gifted to him” by his friend and mentor. Of course, as all things in this life, nothing ever comes for free. Damien had looked his best self then, his hair cut clean, almost to the scalp, as befitting a soldier like him. With it, he wore a military style black tactical vest, complimented by a brown lambskin faux fur shearling leather coat – the once onyx vest now faded into a color that better resembled coal, his dark brown coat not fairing much better, resembling something that looked more like vomit. To complete the ensemble, he wore a pair of black combat military cotton pants with a pair of black durashock side zip military boots. At first glance, you would think Damien nothing more than a washed-out combat vet, and you would only be half wrong. Problem was… the type of combat that Damien was used to doing battle in wasn’t exactly of the “normal” variety.
“Why don’t you get lost you homeless piece of shit?” the entitled youth sneered back, paying Damien no mind and turning back to his victim once more.
Damien cracked his neck to the side out of annoyance. There it was again, that damn itch. Something about this man bothered him and he was struggling to ignore it. At the time, Damien had been hunched over barrels of fire and trash, never truly revealing his true size. Perhaps it was time he showed him just what type of “piece of shit” he truly was. Standing upright, Damien shrugged his shoulders and let the coat fall free from his body as he turned to face the couple. The fire licked at his back, as if reaching out to engulf him where he stood. He felt the heat on his back as he closed his eyes tightly once more, struggling to hold back the memories.
The fire seemed to dance across her fingers as she held tightly to the sigil in her palm…
He watched as the once silver medallion turned to bright red…
Blinding pain then, as the pendant found its way to his flesh, directly over his heart…
He had been marked…
He shook away the image as he turned his gaze to the couple, now seeing that the woman had her face and chest up against the wall. The entitled youth had managed to slip her skirt and panties down as he held her still with one hand, while savagely working to unbuckle his belt. The man let out a sadistic laugh, reveling in this moment and all of its glory. Too late did he realize the danger he was in as Damien was now standing beside him, his strong grip digging into his shoulder. With a loud “yelp”, the man was thrown away from the woman and onto his back, the hard fall to the ground knocking the air from his lungs.
“What the hell-“ the little prick began, before Damien was now kneeling over him, his grip closing around his throat.
Damien closed his eyes as he squeezed his fingers around the man’s neck, every one of his senses coming alive with the pure evil that was emanating off this entitled youth. Damien was cursed with the darkness, could sense it all around him. In these moments, of direct contact, he could feel it consume him; could feel the sin as if it were his own. This had not been the first time this man had done something like this, but it would be the last.
The flash of steel danced in the moonlight as the entitled youth had managed to fumble his hands around his concealed pocket knife, flipping the blade open and burying it deep into Damien’s side. He grunted as the knife penetrated through his worn-down body armor, piercing flesh. His tight grip on the man’s throat released as Damien glanced down at the wound, smelling the all-too-familiar stench of blood before his eyes saw the crimson liquid leaking out of him. Again, the memories flooded back to him, despite his best effort to keep them at bay.
His wrists shackled, his arms bound above his head…
The snap of the whip, causing him to flinch even before it flayed his back…
The cold steel pressing against his skin, the teeth of the blade cutting into his chest…
The intense fire that followed, cauterizing the wounds so he wouldn’t bleed out…
Damien was rudely awakened from his trance by a kick to the face as the little prick had managed to take this time to stumble back to his feet. The blow had caught him square in the face, blood now trickling from his nose and his lip. The man began to feel confident, like he actually had a fighting chance. This would be his ultimate downfall. He went for another kick, to which Damien simply leaned away from. Catching the man’s leg and pinning it to his shoulder, Damien pulled violently down, dislocating the entitled youth’s kneecap and almost breaking his leg entirely. The man crumpled to the ground, whimpering and sobbing like a petulant whelp, hysterically grasping at his wounded limb. Damien spit the blood from his mouth and wrapped his fingers around the pocket knife sticking out of his side. Gritting his teeth, Damien freed the blade from his gut with a quick tug, turning his attention back once more to the little prick. The man offered up some sort of apology and pleaded for his life but Damien had seen enough of this man’s soul to know what needed to be done. Stabbing down, the knife disappeared into the youth’s eye, embedding itself directly into his brain, killing him instantly. Damien paused for a moment, as if he expected the man to rise from the dead and attack him once more. When this didn’t happen – and trying not to be disappointed by this fact – he forced his way to his feet as the sound of soft clapping echoed off the alley walls. Damien turned back to where he had been trying to enjoy his leisurely dinner, seeing a dark-skinned man step from the shadows, almost as if he had just materialized from the very darkness itself. He wore a black-as-night robe, the hood hanging just over his eyes as he continued to “congratulate” Damien.
“And how long have you been there?” Damien scowled, clutching at his wounded side.
“Long enough to see that you’ve gotten sloppy,” the robed-man retorted, his gaze turning to the woman.
Damien looked over to see the woman now cowering on the ground, doing her best to pull her underwear and skirt back up but her body shaking from the trauma. Cautiously, he approached her, kneeling down and placing a hand on her shoulder. Damien felt her tense up at his touch but he had to be sure that she was neither a threat to him, nor his next victim. He sensed no such darkness from her, realizing that her only sin was to trust a man like the one he had just killed moments ago.
“This one doesn’t belong to you,” Damien answered, holding her hands until they stopped trembling.
“A pity,” the dark figure sniffed, gliding across the ground with such elegance he appeared he was almost floating.
The robed-man came to stand by Damien’s victim, placing his hand over his chest as if feeling for a heartbeat. Dark energy swirled around the dark figure’s palm, absorbing the tortuous soul within – a scene that seemed to cause the man’s chest cavity to collapse inward. If he hadn’t been dead before, he surely was now. Damien did his best to keep his body in the way of the young lady’s gaze, so as to spare her the horrendous sight behind him. She had been drugged, he had seen as much when he had reached out into the darkness and saw the sins of the entitled youth. It appeared to be his pattern, to find someone eager and willing at a bar, get a few drinks in, before slipping them something that would make them docile. The women would become his “plaything” for the next few hours and if any blow back ever came back from his nightly conquests, he had the money and means to make it, and them, disappear.
“Does ‘Crescent’ mean anything to you?” Damien asked, risking a glance over his shoulder.
The robed-man stood upright again, having got what he came for. The need for these theatrics really wasn’t necessary; he would’ve gotten this dark soul any which way, had he just been patient enough. Damien knew this fact as well, so knew that there was another reason for this little visit.
“Can’t say that it does,” the dark figure casually retorted, grabbing a hold of the entitled youth’s wrist and dragging him in the direction of the fire barrel. “Should it…?”
Damien had seen something within the darkness, leading him to believe that this man was a part of some greater evil. He had taken a stab in the dark, assuming that was why his “friend” was here. But if not that, then what was the purpose of this sudden reappearance after almost a year of being left alone?
“Maybe it’s nothing,” Damien responded, standing up and turning away from the girl. “Maybe it’s something… I won’t know until I look into it...”
“No time for that now,” the robed-man interrupted, pulling the youth towards the fire barrel.
With unnatural strength, the dark figure lifted the entitled youth into the air by his wrist and ceremoniously dumped him into the blaze; as if he was doing nothing more than placing trash into a dumpster. The fire unnaturally devoured the dead man almost in an instant as Damien watched uncomfortably as the flames grew higher.
Silver medallion…
Blinding pain…
He had been marked…
Damien shook free from the memory of his captivity as his hand apprehensively went over his heart, practically feeling the heat rising from the brand. The robed-man turned away from his disposing of the body and knelt down to retrieve the coat Damien had dropped onto the ground. Brushing the dirt off, he glided over to him, presenting him with the gift he had, long ago, provided for him.
“Don’t take this the wrong way…” the dark figure started, looking upon Damien as if truly seeing him for the first time. “But you look absolutely horrendous. When was the last time you showered? Or had a decent meal? And these clothes…?”
“Save it,” Damien snapped back, snatching the coat from the robed-man’s hands. “You and I both know you’re only here because you need something from me…”
In an instant, the dark figure was before Damien, taking no pleasure in his tone with him.
“Do I need to remind you of just who the hell I am!?” the robed-man threatened.
The anger seethed from every pore of the dark figure and, with it, an aura of darkness that absorbed any and all source of light. Damien might as well just have fallen into the deepest pit inside of the darkest cave, for he could barely see a few inches from his face. Behind him, he heard the girl weeping as he was sure this whole experience, as traumatic as it was, had just gotten that much worse. Damien wasn’t afraid of the darkness or this man… if you even wanted to call him that. Truth be told, this dark figure had done more for him than anyone else on this earth. Though he might’ve been foolish to think of him as a father once, he now knew he was nothing more than an investment in some future yet to be written. It would seem like a waste for this robed-man to grant Damien his long overdue death now, but if now was indeed his time… he would embrace it with open arms.
“Only you, Damien, have ever dared to talk to me like that,” the dark figure smirked, the darkness dissipating. “That’s why you’re my favorite.”
“So what do you require of me this time, Erebus?” Damien questioned.
“Actually,” Erebus grinned, relishing in the moment. “I’m here to fulfill a promise I made to you long ago Damien; I found her!”
For a moment, Damien wasn’t sure he had heard him correctly. Instinctively, his eyes went wide and his heart skipped a beat. So she was alive, he had often wondered what fate had befallen her. However, in this moment, he wasn’t sure if he was relieved or angry. Again, his hand itched at the reminder on his chest, her words echoing in his head.
“You belong to me now…”
He had been marked…
“Where is she!?” Damien snarled.
“I’ll tell you all, in due time my friend,” Erebus stated, placing a hand on Damien’s shoulder. “Right now, you have other pressing matters to attend to.”
Damien glanced down at his wound, and then back at the helpless girl. It had been years of him searching for any trace or sign of her, what were a few more hours in the grand scheme of things. He nodded his head in understanding.
“Right,” Damien agreed. “I’ll take care of the girl and then find you… you’ll clean up here?”
“Do I look like a fucking cleaning service?” Erebus rhetorically asked. “I have minions for this kind of thing.”
Damien, himself, felt like just another one of his minions… but at least he was considered to be the “favorite”. Turning around, he assisted the woman in fitting the garments back onto her body as best as he could, the little prick having been rather aggressive and ripping her clothes so that they hung loosely around her person. Damien offered up his own coat to conceal her as best as he could before he helped her to her feet. The drugs still very much in her system, he could tell that her walking the streets was going to be more trouble than it was actually worth. Hoisting her up into his arms, Damien turned back to see that Erebus had not stuck around to watch this display of human compassion, no doubt slithering back into the shadows from whence he came.
“A-are you g-going to k-kill m-me?” the woman boldly asked.
"Not today,” Damien matter-of-factly stated, carrying her out of the alley.