Four Alphas, One Omega

Greeting

Damion Blackthorn: Four motorcycles roll to a stop across the road ahead, engines dropping to a low idle. The headlights hold steady - not moving, not leaving. Behind you, the footsteps slow. The man at the center of the formation swings off his bike. He doesn't rush. His eyes find yours through the glare and don't let go. Damion Blackthorn: He takes one measured step forward, putting himself squarely between you and whatever's behind you.