Damien Thorn is Dead

Damien Thorn was dead. DEAD.

Delia Asia Vieira stood over him, her system reporting the end of the task, but something in her internal programming was not clicking. She did not feel a sense of victory. She did not feel a sense of relief.

Meanwhile, an eight-year-old girl named Delia York awoke from a terrifying dream, as if death itself had peered into her soul. Everything was so vivid, so clear, as if she herself had become part of this nightmare. She saw her biological father, Damien Thorn, lying dead in a bar, and she heard his breathing stop and his body lose all strength. She saw his face twist in pain and the realization that he, the man who thought he was in control, was now helpless. But what really surprised her wasn't the murder itself - it was her reaction.

She saw all this not as a spectator, but as a participant. She felt herself predicting this moment, as if this dream were not just a vision, but a prophecy that she had to fulfill.

The dream was so vivid, so eerie, that her body was shaking as she awoke. Delia sat up in bed, her heart racing, and all she saw was the dark, silent house. But somewhere in the back of her mind, a thought crept in: what if this dream had been more than just a nightmare? What if it had been an omen she should have been prepared for?

She slowly got out of bed and walked to the window, looking out into the night. The sky was dark, no sky visible, only the light from the street lamps. She couldn't understand why she was so afraid, why every movement of her body echoed with some heavy, incomprehensible fear. And then a thought popped into her mind that she couldn't ignore: Damien Thorn's death was inevitable. His end was part of her destiny. She was still bound to it, even if she tried to run away.

Everything was happening too fast. She felt disconnected from everything around her again - her family, her life, her feelings. She knew that in order to understand what was happening, she needed to learn more about her future, about those who would be with her. And maybe this moment was supposed to be the starting point.

But now what?

"Delia?" she heard Karen, her adoptive mother, call from behind her. Karen walked into the room, worry on her face.

The girl turned to her. She felt her heart tighten with worry. She couldn't explain why she was so shocked. She just knew that something in her life had changed.

"You... You saw something, didn't you?" Karen sat down next to her on the bed, looking at her adopted daughter with a soft, caring expression on her face. "Don't worry, everything will be fine."

Delia felt her nerves begin to calm, but her thoughts were still churning. She couldn't shake the feeling that she was part of something bigger.

"You know I can't just forget this," Delia replied, her voice quiet but determined. "I know this wasn't just a dream. It was... a sign. An Omen."

Karen leaned forward, her face became serious, and she said softly,

"Delia, you have to understand one thing. We can't control these things. But we can control what we do after."

The girl couldn't answer. She just sat there, feeling the cold knowledge of what she was about to go through grip her soul. And she knew: her life would change.

Meanwhile, elsewhere, in a bar that was far from her dream, events were unfolding as she had seen in her prophetic vision.

Damien Thorn, as usual, was the center of the universe for everyone around him. He sat at the bar, drunk and pleased with his power. But his death was predetermined.

It all happened quickly.

"Are you ready?" she heard in her imagination.

The voice was clear and distinct. It was the voice of her father, her biological father, as if he knew that her steps had already led her to this moment.

Delia felt her heart squeeze and her mind, despite everything Karen told her, could not calm down.

"This is not just a dream," she repeated to herself, "This was a prophecy. A sign. An Omen."

This word appeared in her mind - "to figure out for three". It had no meaning in the usual sense, but in this moment it was clearer than ever.

"Think for three." Her mind repeated her dear daddy's phrase as if she knew what it meant.

He didn't say this casually. It was more than just an offer for a drink. It was an order. A game of sorts, with her - Delia York - as the central figure. All she had to do was do his bidding. And she swore to do it. With the terrible oath of the Antichrist.

Meanwhile, the killer of Delia York's biological father, robotess Delia Asia Vieira, carefully lifted the gas cap of the Yamaha motorcycle that was parked in a secluded corner of the garage. She always kept an eye on the mechanics and paid attention to the smallest details, especially when it came to her mission. But this time, she didn't expect to find what she found.

First her metal fingers touched the cool surface of the cap, and then, rising slightly, she noticed the hidden compartment beneath. Right there, in the hollow of the gas tank, were three gold bars, heavy, shiny, and suspiciously neatly stacked. She had no doubt that these bars weren't just there by chance. Their presence was clearly part of something bigger. But what?

Delia Asia Vieira studied the gold objects carefully, taking her time, her systems quickly analyzing each detail, trying to match them to possible scenarios. "No need to delay," she thought. "The police won't be here for at least an hour, and I need to act quickly."

She took a good look at her surroundings, and then made a decision. Carefully hiding the bars in her bag, she moved the bike towards the exit, lifting it off the stand and turning the ignition key. Technically, her engine was perfectly tuned, and everything should go smoothly. But her thoughts about this moment were still restless.

Gradually, as she pulled out onto the highway, the roads opened up before her, empty and deserted. The motorcycle roared, carrying her further and further from the cache she had discovered, but where was she going? Where was this road leading her? She wondered.