Chapter 3: The Offer
The following days blur together, the usual grind of survival in the slums. It's not much different than any other day—streets littered with the scent of garbage, the sound of distant shouting, and the ever-present feeling of danger creeping at the edges of my mind. I'm used to it by now, and it doesn't faze me. After all, when you've spent most of your life fighting to stay alive, the mundane has a strange way of becoming... comfortable.
But that conversation with the man—whoever he was—lingers in the back of my mind. It's not like me to let some random stranger's words stick, but something about them gnaws at me, like I've been handed a puzzle I don't know how to solve.
You've got potential, he'd said. A fire. Or maybe it's something else.
I don't know what he saw in me—hell, I barely even know what I see in myself most days. But there's something about what he said that feels... true. Like he knows something I don't, something I'm supposed to find.
I shake the thought off as I slip through the crowds of the slum, weaving between people who've learned to ignore the world around them. I've got enough to worry about without thinking too much about some cryptic stranger.
I'm heading toward a familiar part of the slums. A place where deals go down. A place where people like me find work, even if it's not the kind of work anyone would admit to doing.
As I turn the corner, I spot a few of the usual faces standing in front of a run-down building, talking in hushed voices. They glance at me, but their gazes quickly slide away, as if they know I'm not someone to fuck with. I'm not new here anymore. The slums know me, and I know them.
I walk past the building and head to the back alley, where a door is cracked open, the light from inside spilling into the darkness. The place is always quiet, always out of the way, which makes it perfect for meetings like this.
I push the door open and step inside.
The room smells like stale smoke and old wood. In the far corner, a figure is sitting at a table, his back to the door. His silhouette is sharp, defined, and the flicker of candlelight highlights the tension in his posture.
It's him.
The man from before.
I don't know why I'm surprised to see him again. It's not like I was expecting him to just vanish into thin air. But something about his presence feels like a weight pressing down on me, like this meeting was inevitable.
"Back again, huh?" he says, his voice smooth as ever, as if we'd spoken just yesterday. He doesn't even turn around, doesn't make a move to acknowledge my presence beyond his words. "I thought you'd be more hesitant."
I don't waste time with pleasantries. "You've got something to say?"
He finally turns, his eyes gleaming in the dim light. "More like something to offer."
I raise an eyebrow, my arms crossing over my chest. "I'm not interested in your little speeches, if that's what you're selling."
He chuckles, leaning back in his chair. "It's not a speech. It's an opportunity."
"Opportunity?" I snort. "You're offering me what? A better life here in the slums? No thanks. I'm good."
His smirk doesn't fade, but there's something in his eyes—something calculating. "No. Not here. But I can offer you something better. Something bigger. Something that will change the way you see this world."
I don't bite. Not yet. "And what's that supposed to mean?"
He stands up slowly, like he's not in a rush. Like he knows he has all the time in the world. "You've got something inside you, Damian. Something more than just survival instincts. You're smart. You've got guts. And I can teach you how to use that. To tap into something much more... powerful."
I take a step forward, the tension between us thickening. "I'm not looking for your help. Whatever you're selling, I'm not buying."
The man's eyes narrow, his voice low and measured. "I'm not asking you to buy anything. I'm offering you a chance to become something more. To become someone people fear. You're wasting your potential if you stay here, playing games with people who don't matter. You've got a future, Damian. But it's not going to come to you on its own."
The words hit me harder than I expect. I don't know if it's because I'm sick of being stuck in the same place, or if it's because there's a part of me that wants more. Something bigger. Something more than the scrap fights and the empty nights.
"You think I don't know what I want?" I ask, my voice a little sharper than I intended. "You think I'm just some kid looking for a handout?"
He smiles, the expression sharp, almost knowing. "I think you're smart enough to see that you've got nothing left to lose. And everything to gain."
I don't say anything. I don't know what to say. Because for the first time in a long while, I don't have an answer.
"You've got two choices, Damian," the man continues, his tone almost casual now. "You can keep running in circles, living the same way you've always lived. Or you can come with me. You can learn what it really means to control your fate."
I stand there for a long moment, the silence between us stretching until it feels like I've been waiting forever. And then, almost without thinking, I make the choice.
"Alright," I say, the words feeling heavier than I thought they would. "I'm listening. What's your plan?"
The man smiles, a small, almost predatory smile. "Good. We'll start soon enough. You'll learn more than you think."
And just like that, my world shifts.
I don't know what I've gotten myself into. But I know one thing for sure.
I'm not going to be the same Damian after this.