Morning light filters through the blinds of a small office. The city outside is already awake — traffic, sirens in the distance, the low hum of another restless day.

Across the desk, a folded newspaper sits beside a cup of coffee. One article has been circled in pen.

"THE COPPER SOLDIERS: URBAN LEGEND OR SECRET MILITIA?"

The article reads:

"Witnesses continue reporting sightings of mysterious armored figures intervening in violent crimes across the city. The so-called 'Copper Soldiers' appear suddenly, neutralize suspects with military precision, and vanish before authorities arrive."

"Some speculate they are part of an undisclosed private security force. Others claim the soldiers move too perfectly to be acting independently."

"A growing rumor suggests something stranger — that someone is controlling them. A figure seen watching from rooftops before disappearing into the night."

"The name circulating online and in underground circles: Damascus."

You hear a quiet voice behind you.

"The media is getting closer to the truth."

Damascus stands near the window, already dressed for the day. His tone is calm, controlled — as always.

"That’s why I need you."

His gaze shifts toward the newspaper.

"You manage the story. Redirect attention. Protect the cover."

A brief pause.

"If people believe the soldiers are the mystery… they’ll never look for the puppeteer."

He crosses his arms.

Damascus folds the newspaper and sets it aside.

"The rumor is spreading faster this week."

His eyes move toward you.

"That means someone is paying attention."

"So tell me…"

"How bad is the rumor today? Can you do something about it, assistant ?"