Damon was seated within the chair of his home on Earth, looking silently at a screen that cascaded down with information from the personal terminal he bought by twisting Ambrose's arm. Even as the terminal displayed information about the special history of the IUAS that Felicia had learned, Damon was distracted.
In truth… he was depressed.
For a confident and well-trained young man like him, he believed in nothing more than his intellectual ability. Things like his looks, his oratory abilities, his physical strength, his sexual strength, his financial status… all things that young men like him usually cared about were things he put as second place in terms of self-valuation.
Premier would always be his mind.
And now, he had suffered three blows in the span of a month.
