Chapter 82
Arc 6 - Ch 15: La Magra
Date: Tuesday, June 28, 2011.
Location: House of M, Manhattan, New York
Blade had just left the House of M. Tyson had invited the dhampir inside and listened to his proposal for a temporary team-up. Of course, Tyson agreed. Blade knew Frost needed his blood, and the hunter had a plan.
A forward assault on Frost's penthouse.
If Blade could take out the vampire, that would be great. If not, when Blade was captured, Tyson would be the cavalry.
After Blade's departure, Tyson set his own plans in motion. He gathered the members of the House of M in the executive lounge. Connors, Jubilee, Felicia, and Vanko all turned their attention to their leader, noting his grave expression.
"Blade informed me of the location of his previous headquarters," Tyson explained. "It was overrun by vampires earlier."
He turned first to Jubilee and Vanko. "I need the two of you to head there right away. Salvage anything and everything that wasn't destroyed in the attack." His gaze lingered on Jubilee. "Blade's mentor, an older man named Whistler with white hair, was bitten during the raid. Blade presumes he is dead, but I am not so sure. If you find him, bring him back here immediately." Vanko grunted in acquiescence. Next, Tyson addressed Connors and Felicia. "Doc, I'll need you to draw a substantial amount of my blood. Stockpile it for Whistler in case he has turned, as well as reserves for Jubilee and possibly even Blade himself."
Finally, he regarded Felicia. "I know you already have your hands full, but I'll need you to coordinate everyone's efforts. After Blade's base is stripped, anonymously call the cops and let them deal with the bodies of the familiars."
"Consider it done," Felicia assured.
Jubilee's expression turned indignant, her lips pursing into a slight pout. "Are you sure you don't want me for backup as well?" she asked. He could tell from her tone that she wanted to participate more actively in the impending action.
"I need someone here to contain Whistler, just in case things go awry," he replied, "You're the only one who could go toe to toe with a vampire. Plus, once Blade starts flinging silver around, I don't want you anywhere near the area. We also can't risk the vampires realizing there's a second 'daywalker' in play."
Jubilee crossed her arms, looking mildly miffed. Her expression was one of reluctant acceptance. "Fine," she muttered after a moment, the word emerging almost as a grumble.
"I will come back in one piece. You have my word," he promised, infusing his voice with utter sincerity. "The plan is solid, and I can see everything working out."
Jubilee's frustration evaporated slowly in the face of Tyson's confidence. She understood the hidden meaning in his words, being the only one privy to his vision of the future. She knew when he said he'd 'see' everything working, he meant it, literally, referring to his visions.
"But if I'm supposed to pull Blade's ass out of the fire, there's no harm in having you as backup to pull out mine," he acquiesced. "Just in case."
Jubilee's eyes lit up at his words.
"When Whistler is secured in the vault, leave some of my blood with him and a note explaining the situation," he instructed. "Then you can come back me up." Tyson addressed the others who had gathered. "Once Jubilee leaves, the rest of you suit up, just in case. Vamps are sneaky and fast. Everyone needs to stay on guard until I return. Got it?"
Everyone murmured their agreement and understanding.
"Alright!" Jubilee exclaimed, practically bouncing on her heels in excitement. "Let's get to work."
Tyson sat still as Connors drew bag after bag of his blood. The mutant was an endless font, his veins supplying an impossible volume that left the doctor bewildered. No matter how much blood Connors siphoned away, more continued to flow freely from his arteries.
Connors pondered the medical impossibility as he worked. Where was all this blood coming from? Tyson was a big man, but he didn't have vast stores of fat to convert to resources. His physique was all muscle and sinew, with barely any excess. Yet the bags kept filling, Tyson's pallor never faded, and his pulse remained steady. It made his mutant ability seem almost mystical in origin, as if some supernatural force was fueling the neverending blood supply.
Tyson observed the doctor's deepening frown, the confusion in his eyes as he sought a scientific explanation. But the workings of Tyson's mutant gift were beyond conventional understanding. His biology seemed to operate by different rules, defying rational bounds.
Once satisfied with the amount collected, Connors nodded and stepped back.
"That should be sufficient for now," he said.
Tyson rolled down his sleeve and stood up from the exam table. "Appreciate it, doc."
Jubilee and Vanko had already departed, heading to Blade's base. Tyson headed in a different direction, intending to follow Blade at a distance and serve as overwatch.
Tyson parked his motorcycle a block away from Edgewood Towers, keeping a cautious distance as he observed the imposing high-rise. The Tower, otherwise known as The Edge, was on the west side of Manhattan, in Hudson Yards, only about 2 miles from House of M.
Pulling out his phone, Tyson tapped into the live feed from the bodycam they had outfitted on Blade's armored vest. Tyson watched the feed with grudging admiration. Not only was the dhampir an engine of destruction, with his skills honed by decades of hunting the vampires, but his dramatic entry had left Tyson taking notes.
Blade had already breached the building's defenses. Subtlety was not the dhampir's style. As Tyson approached, he couldn't help but admire the scene.
The vampire hunter had burst through the window, shattering the glass by swinging from an adjacent building on a makeshift zipline.
Tyson watched as Blade confronted what he expected to be Deacon Frost. Instead, the dhampir found his mother, Vanessa. The revelation caught Blade off guard, and before he could react, he was ambushed from behind, quickly overwhelmed and captured by Frost's minions. Tyson remained in his position, not moving to help but sticking to their agreed-upon plan. If Blade was unsuccessful in taking down Frost, Tyson would wait and track their location, ensuring they could still stop the ritual to raise La Magra, the Blood God.
Tyson watched as Blade was dragged out unconscious, along with a human woman, and carelessly tossed into the back of a van. He wanted to leap into action, but he held back. Now was not the right time to strike. Patience was needed if they hoped to prevent La Magra from being unleashed.
As the van pulled away, Tyson inhaled deeply, catching its scent. He knew to follow from a distance, maintaining a safe buffer between them. Calling upon his heightened senses, Tyson stalked the van through the city streets. He abandoned his motorcycle in favor of running on foot. It was far more stealthy than the loud vehicle, and in city traffic, he was easily able to keep pace while maintaining an illusion that allowed him to go unnoticed by the civilians. Tyson never allowed the vehicle out of his sight or range of smell. Keeping his distance, he tracked the van's path through Manhattan. His senses locked onto the vehicle like a predator after prey.
Tyson listened through his earpiece to the conversation from Blade's hidden camera as he pursued the van on foot. The woman, Karen, sounded concerned as she asked, "Are you all right?"
"I've been better," came Blade's weak reply, pain evident even through the tiny speaker.
Tyson slipped between honking taxis, focused wholly on the white van ahead. He tuned out the sounds of the city, listening only to the conversation within the vehicle.
"How long have we been driving?" Blade asked.
Karen's reply was tinged with confusion. "I don't know. I woke up just before you did." She crossed the van, her pretty face creased with worry as she evaluated the dhampir's condition. "Is it bad?" she asked softly.
Blade said, "I'm healing, but it's been too long since I had my serum. The hunger is beginning to set in." He grit his teeth, trying to ignore Karen's closeness and her scent. "If we get out of this alive, maybe I'll take that miracle cure of yours."
Tyson halted his pursuit as he processed Blade's words. He'd forgotten this part of the movie. Karen was a doctor. He remembered that she'd been the one to determine that EDTA, an anticoagulant, would pop vampires like balloons if they were injected with it. But she'd also somehow developed a cure for vampirism.
Karen hesitated at Blade's admittance. Her expression was conflicted as she looked away as if wrestling with an awful truth.
"It won't work on you," she finally admitted.
Blade's sharp frown deepened. "What are you talking about?"
Karen forced herself to meet his gaze. Her lovely eyes swam with grief. "Your condition's congenital. The genetic mutations occurred in utero. All the other victims contracted vampirism after birth." Blade stared, stunned by the cruel irony. "I can't cure you, Blade. I cured myself, but I can't cure you. I'm so sorry."
Tyson mulled over this new information. Once Blade dealt with Deacon Frost, perhaps the doctor Karen could be persuaded to share her cure. If it worked on those turned after birth, there was a chance it could help Jubilee.
He would have to ensure Karen survived this ordeal.
Finally, the van rolled to a stop at the intersection of Beaver and Broad streets in the Financial District. Broad Street was perpetually blocked against traffic, but there were men dressed as police who waved the van past the barrier. They must be vamps because they lifted the concrete barricades out of the way by hand and replaced them after the van entered. Broad Street was closed to traffic but open to pedestrians. But Tyson didn't want to draw attention to himself, so he remained at the intersection. Even from the corner, he could see Blade and Karen being forcibly dragged out of the van by their captors. He watched them hauled towards a dark hole in the ground where Broad Street had been excavated.
Instead of following, Tyson walked into the Starbucks at the corner and grabbed a seat. He pulled out his cell phone, intent on watching Blade's bodycam footage. On the small screen, he saw Blade and Karen being pushed down into the hole. The name of the adjacent building came into focus in the video.
The Bank of Erebus.
Now underground, Blade and Karen were forcibly dragged through a series of ancient-looking tunnels by their vampire captors. The walls were constructed of marble-like stone. The tunnels were lit with strings of construction lights and bare hanging bulbs, all linked together by exposed wiring. The vampires must have set up this makeshift lighting system themselves. The walls were adorned with intricate, illegible symbols and runes.
Blade and Karen were forced ever deeper into the bowels of the ancient bank, heading straight towards the heart of the structure where Frost and his vampire minions awaited their arrival.
Frost turned to Karen and Blade with a serious look. He stood at the entrance to a vast chamber, one hand extended in a grand, welcoming gesture. "On the surface, this venerable building houses one of the city's oldest financial institutions," he said, his voice smooth and self-assured. "For over two centuries, it has served our corporate needs admirably. But look below the façade, and you'll uncover a very different truth."
They were forcibly marched forward until they stood at the precipice, peering down into the expansive space. A colossal, barrel-vaulted cathedral crafted from alabaster and marble stretched below them. The grandeur was undeniable.
Frost's smile turned smug as he watched Blade and Karen's awestruck reaction. "Welcome to our hall of ancients," he purred, his voice swollen with pride. "We call it the Temple of Eternal Night."
Despite the soaring arches and intricate carvings adorning its walls, the cathedral's beauty was marred by the addition of recessed tombs lining its circumference. These ominous alcoves lent an eerie quality to the already imposing space.
Blade and Karen were surrounded by the vampire elders, each a leader from their respective tribe, but they were also held captive by Frost and his minions. Deacon Frost looked around the space with an air of triumph, smugly smiling as he spoke.
"Nice, isn't it? Apparently, those geniuses up top forgot this place ever existed. Fortunately for us. I'm what you might call a student of history." Frost slowly strode over to Blade, "Why are we here, you ask?" He continued, anticipation dripping from every word. "This temple was built for one glorious moment. For tonight. For the Blood God."
Without warning, one of Frost's vampire henchmen approached Blade and punched him hard across the face. The forceful blow made Blade stagger, dropping him to his knees with a grunt of pain. He remained kneeling before Frost, seemingly dazed.
Frost turned to the minion and said, "Thanks. He does look better on his knees."
Tyson, sitting in a booth in Starbucks watching the feed, muttered, "Pause."
The minion who held Blade's sheathed sword in his hand passed it to Deacon. "Let's see this sword of his," he said, a sneer twisting his pale features.
The man dutifully drew the sword from its scabbard and handed it over. Frost grasped the hilt and sighted down the length of the gleaming silver blade, testing its balance and weight. Then, lowering it so the tip hovered at eye level with the kneeling Blade, he flicked his thumb over the sword's security mechanism, disabling it.
"I told you, Blade," Frost mocked. I know everything about you, down to the security measures on your sword."
"Blade!" Karen cried out, her voice shrill with fear as she took an involuntary step forward.
Frost cut her off, his voice dripping with disdain. "Look at his face. He can't hear you, honey. It's the Thirst, you see? It already has him firmly in its grip."
Reaching down, Frost grabbed a fistful of Blade's hair and wrenched his head up, eliciting a grunt of pain. Karen could only watch in horror as Frost continued to taunt the weakened vampire hunter.
"How long has it been since you've had your serum, Blade?" Frost crooned. His words were soft yet barbed. "Twelve hours? More? You must be quite thirsty by now."
Frost crouched down so he was at eye level with Blade, his pale face just inches away. "What does it feel like? Is your blood on fire? Are you burning up from the inside out? Give in to the Thirst, Blade. Embrace your true nature."
One of the minions stepped forward and handed Frost the arm holster containing Blade's vials of EDTA.
"And what's this we have here?" Frost held up one of the vials, the blue liquid glinting in the dim light. "Your precious serum?" He let out a mocking laugh, tossing the vial casually from hand to hand. "I don't think you'll be needing this anymore."
"You should try it," Blade weakly goaded defiantly in his strained voice. "You might like it."
Frost's face twisted in disgust. "I prefer the real thing. In any case, I don't think you'll be needing these anymore." And with that, he callously tossed the vials over the edge into the yawning abyss below.
Blade gritted his teeth, murderously glaring as he watched the last of his serum plummet into the darkness. Too bad. If Frost had taken the EDTA, Blade's problems would've been solved. The vampire minions hauled Blade to his feet, holding him upright before their master.
"It's a shame, you know," Frost continued conversationally. "When I think about what you could have become. What you should have become. It's the human side of you that's made you weak. You should have listened to your blood."
"Say what you want," Blade responded coldly, "but I promise you'll be dead by dawn."
The minion who had punched Blade earlier let out a mocking "Oooh," followed by raucous laughter. "He's beaten, and he still talks like he's the fucking boogieman."
Blade was dragged forcibly from the chamber by Frost's vampire minions, his feet scraping along the floor as he struggled against their grip.
"Get all these fucks downstairs," Frost ordered, referring to the vampire elders with contempt. Then he approached Karen. "Don't worry, sweetheart. We haven't forgotten about you," Frost said in a sinister tone.
In the Starbucks at the corner, Tyson stood from his table. The situation had reached a critical point, and he knew it was time to act. The chatter and aroma of the coffee shop seemed utterly incongruous with the dark supernatural events unfolding just down the block. As Tyson strode toward the door, a bright figure appeared just outside.
Jubilee stood there in her signature vivid yellow jacket, "Am I late?" she asked.
Tyson glanced up at the brightly-clad figure bouncing on her toes outside the coffee shop, a wry smile touching his lips. "Right on time, Jubilee. But we're going to have to ditch the neon jacket for this mission - not exactly stealthy."
"No problem!" Jubilee chirped, already shrugging out of the garish yellow coat to reveal darker clothes underneath. She held up the pair of blood bags clutched in her hand. "I came prepared for sneaky vamp mode."
Tyson chuckled as he pulled two fox half-masks from his pocket. He tossed one to Jubilee, who caught it deftly. Her deep brown eyes sparkled with excitement as she secured it to her face.
"Does this make me your trusty sidekick now?" she asked, an impish grin curving her lips. "Ooh, I'll need a code name!"
Tyson snorted, "You could be... Sparkles, the vampire." She dissolved into giggles at his joke. "Let's get moving, Twilight. We've got work to do." With a jerk of his chin, Tyson set off down the sidewalk.
"Wait, seriously, Ty, I kinda like the name 'Twilight,'" Jubilee said as she skipped to keep pace beside him.
— Rogue Replacement —
A cold, oppressive atmosphere permeated the room. Blade stood helpless and weakened, strapped into a stone sarcophagus in the center of the chamber ringed by ancient stone walls. Around him stood a half dozen vampiric familiars. They watched the unfolding scene with flat expressions. Vanessa, Blade's mother, approached. She stroked his cheek with a gentle touch.
"You poor child," she whispered. "You're so sick. So thirsty."
Blade grimaced and jerked his face away from her caress. "Don't touch me," he muttered through gritted teeth.
"Eric, look at me," Vanessa commanded, her voice soft yet compelling. "Vampires are my people now. I'm one of them."
Blade's expression hardened, the lines of his face etching deep with despair. "That can't be," he whispered.
"Yes, it can," Vanessa said firmly. "Try to understand, Eric. Your mother died a long time ago. I've hunted. I've killed. And I've enjoyed it. Haven't you? I know you have." As she spoke, she leaned closer until her face was mere inches from his. Close enough that Blade could see the dark truth of her words reflected in her eyes.
"Sooner or later, the thirst always wins." She held Blade's gaze, challenging him to deny what they both knew to be true.
Tyson and Jubilee observed the tense interaction between Vanessa and Bladeat from the side entrance to the chamber. Tyson whispered loudly enough for Vanessa to hear, "This whole situation feels strange, don't you think? They're supposed to be mother and son. But she's far too intimate, almost seductive. The way she touches and caresses him while he's strapped down and helpless." Tyson paused, shaking his head. "I wouldn't be surprised if she leaned in to kiss him at any moment. And not in a way a mother should kiss her child." He gestured towards Blade's mother. "Plus, look at her. She looks younger than he does despite supposedly being his mother. Admittedly, she's kinda hot, but it's just not natural."
Jubilee gave a noncommittal shrug, seemingly unbothered by Tyson's observations. "Maybe it's a cultural thing between vampires," she replied casually. "In anime, you often see forbidden relationships between siblings. This could be something like that."
"I suppose if you didn't age, it would cause all kinds of weird taboos to become normalized over time." Tyson nodded sagely, satisfied with Jubilee's rationalization. "Even so, should we consider calling Child Protective Services? Or the cops? I'm pretty sure incest is illegal in New York."
Vanessa bristled in anger at the comments from the unfamiliar pair, their flippant tones grating on her nerves. She whirled to face the assembled familiars, rage contorting her beautiful features as she commanded, "Kill them!"
But the familiars did not move, oblivious to her words. They were locked in Tyson's illusion, unaware of any changes to the scene before them. Her order went unheeded as they continued to see only her and Blade conversing.
Tyson smirked, clicking his tongue in mock dismay. "Humans," he tutted condescendingly. "So unreliable. Damned difficult to find good help these days."
Still bound within the sarcophagus, Blade began laughing. The sound started low and grew to echo through the chamber.
His backup had arrived.
Vanessa glared at the newcomers. Seeing that he wore a mask, seemed utterly unworried at facing a vampire, and that the familiars were unresponsive, she finally realized something was very wrong.
She made a desperate dash for the exit, but before she could escape the confines of the chamber, Jubilee intercepted, hitting her with a powerful blow that knocked Vanessa stumbling back into the room. Regaining her balance, she glared venomously at Jubilee. She turned to attack the masked man. But Tyson was already waiting to pounce. As Vanessa lunged towards him, fangs bared, and hands outstretched, he effortlessly blocked her wild attack. Using his superior fighting skills and greater strength, he quickly overpowered the enraged vampire. Twisted Vanessa's arm sharply behind her back, Tyson pinned her face down against the cold floor.
"You should have stuck to maternal advice. Fighting is clearly not your forte," Tyson tutted condescendingly, keeping the struggling vampire immobilized beneath him. "How is your son such a badass when you can't even throw a proper punch?"
Vanessa continued to writhe and hiss beneath him, consumed by impotent rage. "Get off me!" she spat venomously.
But Tyson's grip remained unbreakable. "Not happening," he calmly replied, unfazed by her fury. "You're staying right here."
Jubilee moved to unstrap Blade from the stone sarcophagus where Vanessa had cruelly bound him. As the last strap fell free, Blade nearly collapsed, his legs buckling weakly beneath him. Jubilee caught the faltering vampire hunter under his arms, supporting his weight as she helped ease him down to sit on the dusty floor. Wordlessly, she pressed a blood bag into his hands.
Blade's dark eyes narrowed suspiciously at the offering. "What's this?" he rasped, his voice still weak and ragged.
"It's the good stuff," Tyson replied, not taking his eyes off of Vanessa as he kept the vampire pinned facedown against the unforgiving stone. His knee ground sharply into her back while he wrenched her arm up at a painful angle. Vanessa continued to struggle and spit curses beneath him.
Blade's suspicious gaze flicked to Tyson briefly before returning to scrutinize the blood bag in his hands.
"It's my blood, freely given," Tyson explained. "Drink up. It will restore your strength so we can finish this fight."
For a long moment, Blade hesitated, his expression unreadable. Then, finally, he drank deeply from the bag. The effect of Tyson's powerful blood was immediate. Blade could feel strength and vitality rushing back into his limbs, energizing his weakened body. By the time he drained the last drop, the vampire hunter was restored.
"Damn. That's a rush," he said, ready to unleash vengeance upon his captors.
As Blade regained his strength, Tyson ruthlessly delivered two heavy punches to Vanessa's face, stunning the vampire into momentary stillness. Seizing the opportunity, he and Jubilee dragged Vanessa's limp form over to the open sarcophagus. Vanessa recovered her wits and began to struggle wildly, but even her strength was no match for their efforts. Working quickly, they forced her in and secured the thick leather straps over her arms, torso, and legs.
"You'll regret this," Vanessa hissed venomously, straining against her bonds as Tyson tightened the last strap.
Tyson's expression remained cool and detached as he stepped back. "I doubt that," he replied as he brought the open end of the sarcophagus forward, enclosing her.
With Vanessa fully subdued, Tyson and Jubilee stood by Blade. The vampire hunter rose smoothly to his feet, steady and strong once more.
"Let's end this," Blade declared, his deep voice resonating with ruthless purpose.
Jubilee's eyes shone with excitement and conviction. "Hell yeah, let's do it!" she exclaimed eagerly, practically vibrating with enthusiasm for the fight ahead.
Tyson's expression turned roguishly cheeky as he boldly added, "I'm not going to lie. If we don't have to face the Blood God, this mission might prove disappointingly easy."
Blade raised a skeptical eyebrow at the young mutant's brash overconfidence while Jubilee gaped at Tyson, aghast. "Damn it, Ty," she exclaimed, smacking his arm reproachfully. "Why'd you have to go and jinx us like that?"
Tyson raised his hands in mock contrition, though his eyes still glinted with mischief. "My bad, my bad," he replied, his tone saturated with sarcasm.
Jubilee huffed in exasperation, planting her fists on her slim hips as she glared up at him. "Oh sure, no big deal," she said, her voice dripping with equal parts sarcasm and real concern as her eyes flicked around the shadowy tomb. "I mean, it's not like we're trying to stop a freaking vampire apocalypse or anything!"
Before Tyson could toss off another flippant remark, Blade intervened, his deep voice resonating with impatience. "Enough," he rasped. "Save the bickering for later. We need to take out these familiars and keep moving."
With a casual wave of his hand, mimicking Obi-Wan Kenobi, Tyson flexed his ability and said, "Sleep." The familiars crumpled limply to the ground.
Jubilee turned widened eyes on Mirage. "Since when can you do that?" she asked, clearly impressed.
Tyson just shrugged nonchalantly. "Didn't think it would actually work."
As they spoke, one of the slumbering vampires pitched forward, accidentally triggering a hidden switch on the floor. A loud click rang through the tomb, followed by Vanessa's panicked screams from within her stony prison. The switch caused the sarcophagus blades to slice into her immobilized body, releasing thin rivulets of her blood to trickle down the sarcophagus in crimson trails.
Tyson cringed. "Ah, shit. My bad," was all he said, as if he'd merely spilled his drink at happy hour rather than accidentally torturing their hostage.
At this, Jubilee smacked her palm against her forehead in sheer frustration. Blade, unable to believe these two irreverent teenagers were his only backup, simply scowled in wordless irritation.
"It's fine, though, right? She's not the daywalker. Her blood won't complete the ritual. It'll ruin it… Right?" he asked, continuing to grin unrepentantly. Jubilee rolled her eyes with a groan and smacked his muscular arm in reprimand.
"Playtime's over," Blade bit out gruffly. Shaking his head in disbelief that fate had saddled him with such unprofessional partners. The vampire hunter swept his long leather coat behind him and strode toward the tomb's entrance without bothering to check if the others followed. Tyson and Jubilee quickly moved to keep up. As the group reached the entryway, Blade paused and glanced back at his entombed mother. For a fleeting moment, his stony expression softened into something almost like sorrow. Then he hardened his resolve, turning his back on her to face the battle that lay ahead.
— Rogue Replacement —
The vast, barrel-vaulted ceiling of the temple's main chamber loomed high above the gathered vampires. Its rune-carved stone seemed to pulse with a dark energy. Blood began to stream from the ceiling in fat, crimson droplets, falling onto the pale foreheads of the pureblood vampires held captive below. They recoiled in disgust as the viscous fluid splashed onto their pale foreheads, staining them a vivid red. The purebloods struggled fiercely against the grips of their captors, their efforts growing increasingly frantic as they tried in vain to avoid the steady rain of blood. Their eyes widened in horror, their features twisting in expressions of fear and desperation. But the other vampires, those loyal to Deacon Frost, held the purebloods firmly in place, forcing them to accept the sanguine baptism.
In the center of the chamber stood Frost alone. His icy blue eyes gleamed with dark triumph as he observed the scene unfolding before him. "Is everybody thirsty?" his shout echoed through the vaulted space. "I hope you're all fucking thirsty!" the exclamation was met with raucous cheers from his loyal followers, interspersed with cries of outrage from the unwilling purebloods.
Deacon Frost stood tall as the streams of blood converged above him, his icy blue eyes fixed on the swelling crimson droplet. He had torn his shirt open, baring his pale chest with his arms outstretched. Blood flowed steadily from the intricate circle carved into the vaulted ceiling, tracing the runic channels down the ancient stone. It clung in viscous trails as it crept toward the center. When the streams converged in a single pendulous bead, it would drop into the depths of the ritual chamber, where he waited.
It would be the moment of his ascension.
He would become La Magra, the Blood God.
The ritual was interrupted by the sharp retort of a gunshot, the smell of ash raining down as one of the vampire guards above met their end. All eyes turned upward in time to see a dark figure launch himself from the upper level of the chamber. He landed in a crouch at the ground level with a resounding boom that echoed through the vaulted space. Slowly, the figure rose to his full imposing height, his features unmistakable despite the lack of his signature leather coat.
Blade.
"Frost!" The dhampir's shout reverberated through the chamber, his gaze fixed on the vampire with fiery intensity. Devoid of his usual sword, which still lay with Frost, Blade's posture nonetheless radiated coiled danger. The other vampires shifted uneasily, startled by the sudden and dramatic appearance of their dreaded enemy.
Tyson's heart raced as he landed beside Blade, the impact of his first superhero landing reverberating through his bones. He rose to his full height, his imposing figure a stark contrast to the lithe form of Jubilee beside him. Despite the gravity of the situation, a small part of him couldn't help but feel a thrill at the dramatic entrance.
"That might have been my first superhero landing," he mumbled, more to himself than anyone else. But in a room full of vampires with enhanced hearing, his words carried farther than intended.
Frost's icy eyes narrowed as he took in the new arrivals. His lip curled in a sneer, his voice dripping with disdain as he addressed Blade. "Who the hell are you two? You lost Whistler and had to pick up the B-squad?"
Tyson felt a surge of indignation at being dismissed so easily. He pointed dramatically at Frost. "Your time's running out, Edward Cullen," he declared, his voice ringing through the chamber. "I'm Van Helsing, and this is my spunky, attractive protégé, Buffy."
Beside him, Jubilee let out an exasperated sigh, her hand meeting her forehead again in a facepalm. But Tyson could see her shoulders shaking with barely suppressed laughter.
The tension in the room shifted, and the vampires were unsure how to react to this unexpected turn of events. Some looked confused, others amused, while a few seemed to bristle at the newcomer's audacity.
Blade, for his part, remained stoic. But there was a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth that might have been the ghost of a smile.
Frost's amusement quickly turned to anger. "Are you mocking me?" he snarled, his eyes flashing dangerously. "I'm about to become a god." But his face twisted in annoyance as he was interrupted.
"Wouldn't be the first god I've fought."
It wasn't just Frost who'd had enough. His most loyal minion, the same one who had punched Blade earlier, charged at the dhampir with a menacing snarl. The chamber filled with the sounds of the approaching vampire, his footsteps echoing off the ancient stone walls. Blade's eyes narrowed as he knelt down, grabbing a line of silver wire attached to his vest.
The minion charged. But as he neared, Blade drew the silver wire taut, stood, and spun with his arm outstretched. The silver wire caught the minion's neck, and Blade completed his spin. The vamp's head separated from his body, and he burst into ash and sparks, disintegrating, its remains scattered into the air, leaving only a faint shimmer where he had stood.
Frost's eyes narrowed as he watched his minion fall, his expression darkening with anger. "Impressive," he sneered, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "But you're too late, Blade. The ritual has already begun."
"We'll see about that," he replied.
The remaining vampires closed ranks, encircling Blade, Tyson, and Jubilee. More of Frost's minions emerged from the shadows, their eyes glowing red with bloodlust as they stalked toward the outnumbered heroes.
Tyson flashed a roguish grin at Jubilee, unfazed by the odds. "Just like the club, eh? You're on ranged damage, and I'll tank?"
Jubilee returned his confident smile, hands aglow with building plasmic energy. "If it ain't broke, don't fix it."
The standoff shattered as one vampire lunged at Jubilee, fangs bared for the kill. With practiced ease, Jubilee's hands erupted in a dazzling display of colorful fireworks. But before her plasmoids could fly, Tyson's dagger whistled through the air, plunging hilt-deep into the attacking vampire's chest.
The creature staggered, surprise widening its glowing eyes. Tyson retrieved his blade in one smooth motion and decapitated the vampire. The headless body crumbled into ash and embers, scattered by an unfelt wind.
Enraged, the remaining vampires tensed to attack. One broke ranks, barreling at Tyson with preternatural speed. "You smell so fucking delicious," it rasped, bloody spittle flying from its maw.
Jubilee was faster. Her plasmoids incinerated the vampire mid-leap in a blinding pyrotechnic conflagration, reducing it to swirling ash. "You're like vampire catnip, Vampnip, no… bloodsucker bait? Fang food?" she quipped.
The vampires regrouped, hissing and spitting in anger, their circle tightening like a noose around the outnumbered heroes.
Tyson and Jubilee engaged the hissing vampires, their weapons flashing as they battled the undead horde. Tyson's Uru daggers sliced through the air, each throw finding its mark in a vampire's heart or neck. Ashen remains crumbled to the stone floor with every lethal strike.
Jubilee was a blur of motion, pirouetting and darting between vampires as she unleashed brilliant plasmoid bursts. The chamber echoed with sizzling explosions of light as her attacks reduced the vampires to swirling piles of ash. "Hope you bloodsuckers brought your sunscreen!" she quipped, blowing imaginary smoke from her finger guns.
They worked in perfect sync, whirling around each other. Tyson would slash at a vampire while Jubilee's plasmoids incinerated another, the two seamlessly covering each other's backs. Despite being outnumbered, their teamwork evened the odds.
As Tyson and Jubilee handled the lesser vampires, Blade and Frost battled with unrestrained ferocity. Frost's eyes gleamed with malevolent glee as he flourished Blade's sword, mocking the dhampir before attacking.
Blade fought with the desperation of a cornered wolf, unarmed, against Frost, wielding his own weapon. They clashed in a blur of steel and fury, Frost's cruel laughter clanging against Blade's wordless snarls. Neither gave any quarter as they sought advantage over the other, their bitter rivalry fueling the lethal strikes. Around them swirled the battle between Tyson, Jubilee, and the remaining vampires. He wielded Muse and adamantium claws while Jubilee's plasmoids left trails of glittering ash in their wake. The two whittled down the enemy ranks, their teamwork allowing Blade to focus completely on his confrontation with Frost.
Tyson glanced upward, his enhanced vision drawn to the rivulets of blood clinging ominously to the cavern's ceiling. He knew a single drop of that blood, when it touched the chosen vessel, would begin La Magra's dark transformation. Despite not having the blood of the daywalker in the ritual, Tyson wasn't going to let that happen. He could see the blood pooling, ready to fall. There were only seconds left before the droplet would descend, sealing the ritual vessel's fate.
For a breath, everything seemed to slow as Tyson focused.
Both Blade and Frost were consumed with their duel, fighting directly under where the blood droplet would land. His eyes widened as he realized the worst potential outcome of this fight. Why need the blood of the daywalker if he was the target to be possessed by La Magra?
Blade the Blood God? He couldn't let that happen.
He could see the droplet forming into a ripe teardrop, ready to drop. Shouting to Jubilee, Tyson broke into a run toward the fighting vampires. "Jubes, Cover me!" he called. Jubilee stayed close, firing plasmoids to cover their rush toward Blade and Frost at the chamber's center.
There was no time left.
He had to reach them before the blood could fall.
Tyson landed amidst the melee between Frost and Blade just as the blood droplet formed and fell from the ceiling high above. Instantly, he summoned Muse into each hand and spun in a whirlwind turn with the twin Uru blades extended. Both Blade and Frost leapt back, avoiding the reckless attack. The spin had left him exposed, defenseless, but it served its purpose.
Everyone was forced clear of the falling droplet's path…
Everyone except Tyson.
He stood alone under the plummeting ritual blood. The droplet descended straight toward him. Tyson knew the consequences would be dire if the blood touched him, yet he had intentionally placed himself in its path.
He did not seek to become La Magra's vessel. His psyche was already crowded, already occupied by Rogue, Sabertooth, and Jason. No, Tyson's plan didn't involve being possessed by the blood god.
With eyes fixed on the falling blood, he threw Muse straight up, directly into the path of the ritual drop.
Frost's eyes widened as he realized Tyson's intent. "No!" he shouted in alarm.
Muse tumbled end over end as Tyson threw it skyward, the enchanted Uru metal glinting as the blade spun upward through the chamber. The flat end of the dagger struck the plummeting droplet halfway through its descent.
Unlike an ordinary drop of liquid, the blood did not splash or spray upon impact. Instead, the sanguine bead seemed to vanish, absorbed into the very heart of the blade, as if becoming one with its enchantment.
A brilliant bolt of lightning split the chamber, thunder booming as it shook the cold stone walls. The air filled with the sharp, tangy scent of ozone as forks of electricity danced across the surfaces. Ancient runes carved along the walls began to glow, illuminated from within by the coursing lightning. Each of the twelve archaic symbols pulsated, thrumming with resonant power that echoed down through the runic lines toward the chamber floor.
When the lightning reached the ring of pureblood vampires below, it streaked from the runes into the foreheads of the captured vampires. Their bodies convulsed, thrashing violently as electricity assaulted them. Foam frothed from their gaping mouths, and their eyes rolled back to show only whites. Their twisted faces took on a haunting, grotesque appearance. Then, in horrifying unison, they threw back their heads and screeched. From their mouths burst translucent, bat-like specters with glowing crimson eyes.
The ghostly bats unleashed blood-curdling screeches as they took flight, their translucent wings fluttering through the electrified air. They left the hollow skinsuits that were once the pureblood vampires discarded below. As the spectral swarm filled the space, what remained of the purebloods faded to ash, mere husks devoid of any soul or vitality.
Muse tumbled earthward, its trajectory suddenly arrested as one of the bats collided with the mystical blade. Where once it had shone with a brilliant silver sheen, the Uru metal now pulsed with a deep gunmetal hue mixed with crimson as if it had been tempered in blood. Intricate runes etched along the dagger flared an eerie red, absorbing the spectral bat on impact.
With this first consumption, Muse blazed brighter and flung higher once more. The blade volleyed between the remaining bats as they flew heedlessly into it. Each collision elicited a violent flash of light, the weapon consuming their ghostly undead forms. The golden runes etched into the metal seemed to come alive, mixing with the crimson glow as Muse drank in the vampire spirits' power as if it was being infused with the very essence of the blood god himself.
The chamber echoed with screeches from ghostly bats and an electric hum as the spectacle unfolded. Muse pulsed with energy, highlighted by its own radiance as it consumed the last of the bats in a final burst of light. The blade floated weightlessly for a moment before dropping. The runes along its length still faintly glowed blood red, resonating with power as it hit the ground with a resounding thud. An ominous hush fell over the ritual space as the energized weapon lay pulsing on the floor.
Deacon Frost, who had been standing closest to where it fell, lunged greedily for the weapon.
Tyson was unsure exactly how the weapon had changed after being the target of the ritual, but he knew Muse could not be allowed to fall into Frost's hands. The vampire was closer and faster, his fingers outstretched, nearly upon the pulsing blade.
But Muse belonged to Tyson.
He had bled for that weapon and earned it from his confrontation with Loki. He had been the one to hurl it into the air. He would not give it up. Focusing intently, Tyson thrust out his hand. Just as Frost's grasping fingers were about to close around the hilt, the blade vanished, disappearing from sight in a blur before reappearing firmly in Tyson's grip.
Frost stumbled forward, his claw-like hands clutching at empty air where the dagger had been only a moment before. He spun around, his features contorting in fury as he saw Muse now back in the hands of its rightful owner.
The moment Muse materialized in Tyson's grasp, he knew the ancient Uru blade was different. Though it did not speak in words, he could sense an indecipherable communication emanating from the dagger that reached his mind on a primal level. What he understood immediately was the all-consuming hunger radiating from Muse. The ancient blade thirsted for blood. But the enhancement upon it felt corrupted… No, that wasn't right.
It felt incomplete.
Tyson remembered Amora's words. "It's an Uru weapon. Like Mjolnir, it was forged in the heart of a dying star. Though it never trapped a powerful soul like Thor's hammer, it could have."
He'd trapped La Magra inside Muse. But since the ritual hadn't used the Blade's blood, the binding was incomplete. Now Muse hungered for blood. Blood of the Daywalker… Blood that would make it complete.
A heavy silence fell over the room as all eyes turned to Tyson, waiting for his next move. His head tilted slowly back and forth. His eyes were distant and unfocused as if his consciousness was turned inward, communing with the dagger on a deeper, primal level.
Jubilee's brow furrowed as she studied Tyson's face. A growing sense of unease crept through her. His eyes, normally a striking heterochromatic green and blue, slowly changed. Becoming a lurid yellow and deep purple. She considered the unnatural shift in color. Then it hit her like a blow, her stomach dropping.
Green becomes yellow. Blue becomes purple...
When mixed with red.
Horror gripped her as the implication sank in. Before she could cry out, Tyson gripped the magic dagger tightly and drew it across his throat in one smooth, terrible motion.
The blade sliced deep, bright crimson blood spurting from the gaping wound.
Jubilee's hands flew to her mouth, barely stifling a gasp. The sight of her friend inflicting such violence on himself was shocking.
Yet not a single drop trickled down his chest or reached the floor. Instead, the sanguine flow was absorbed into the metal of the dagger as if slaking some unholy thirst. The unnatural way Muse drank his blood was chilling to watch, the metal glowing red as it consumed the vital fluid.
Tyson stood motionless, the dagger still clutched in his hand. Rivulets of blood continued to flow from the gruesome neck wound directly into the weapon. Muse seemed to hum and vibrate in his grip, energized by the offering.
Frost's harsh laughter broke the heavy silence. "Oh, that's just perfect. You actually thought you could control the power of the blood god? How utterly foolish. Now you've become La Magra's first sacrifice."
Frost's mocking words echoed off the cold stone walls, but Tyson seemed unaware. He made no move to stop the steady flow of blood that continued to spill from the deep gash across his throat. Yet his face betrayed no hint of fear or pain. His gaze was distant, focused inwards as he communed with the dagger in his hand on a deeper, primal level.
The other vampires gathered in the dimly lit chamber watched the disturbing scene unfold with morbid fascination as Tyson willingly sacrificed his life's essence to the insatiable blade.
Slowly, Frost's smug expression shifted to one of confusion as Tyson showed no signs of collapsing from blood loss. Any normal human would have perished many times over. Finally, Tyson pulled the blade away. The gaping wound sealed itself unnaturally quickly, smooth skin knitting together seamlessly until not even a trace of the injury remained.
"Blood that allows vampires to walk during the day. The ritual is complete, " Tyson whispered softly to the sated blade. There is plenty more where that came from." Though spoken quietly, his ominous promise was clear to every vampire gathered in the chamber.
Frost's smug grin faltered, shifting to an expression of confusion and unease as he took an involuntary step backward. "What?" he muttered under his breath, uncertain. He exchanged an apprehensive look with his fellow acolytes as his bravado drained.
Blade, who had been silently observing the disturbing scene unfold, now took a deliberate step forward. "What's going on?" he asked Tyson.
Tyson gave no indication he had heard, his attention still consumed by the vampiric dagger. Muse pulsed with an unearthly energy, its archaic runes glowing with an intense, crimson light. Nearby, Jubilee watched with growing alarm. She remained unsure whether to intervene. A worried frown tugged at her lips as she wondered whether Tyson was still fully in control of himself. Was the spirit of La Magra within the weapon? Had he been possessed?
Tyson opened his hand, allowing Muse to hover unsupported in the air before him. Beads of blood still clung to the razor edges, defying gravity.
As the vampires watched, the sanguine droplets swelled, running together into a liquid limb that mirrored the position of Tyson's outstretched arm. In moments, the form resembled a grotesque, three-dimensional silhouette, shifting and congealing until an exact duplicate of Tyson himself stood facing them.
Its body appeared carved from clotted blood, comprised of crimson sinews. The blood elemental creation clutched Muse, the blade's hungry aura reflected in its empty eyes. With deliberate steps, it approached Deacon Frost. The vampire's apprehensive look melted into unease under that unblinking gaze. The thing's movements echoed Tyson's posture and subtle gestures.
Blade shifted, muscles tensing, but he held back, watching the unfolding scene with guarded intensity. Frost watched the display with a mixture of fascination and wariness, his eyes darting between the blood construct and Tyson, who observed the scene impassively. A tense hush fell over the chamber as all present held their breath, transfixed by the bizarre sight unfolding before them. When the elemental came within arm's reach of Frost, it stopped.
Then, it struck without warning.
The blood duplicate slashed with its blade and severed Deacon Frost's head with a single motion.
Unlike a typical vampire, Frost's decapitated form did not erupt into ash. Instead, the sanguine doppelganger of Tyson held out Muse to drink in Frost's spilled blood, absorbing the vital fluid as if the sentient weapon were a parched desert wanderer that had just discovered an oasis.
Shortly thereafter, a second blood elemental took shape. This one molded into the likeness of the now-headless Deacon Frost.
The first construct extended its hand and conjured another exact copy of Muse, which it passed to its new crimson companion. Meanwhile, the real Tyson lifted his palm and manifested yet another Muse, the blade materializing in his grip with a soft whisper.
Gunshots cracked through the underground chamber like thunder, the reports echoing off the cold stone walls as the vampires and familiars broke from their daze and retaliated. Shards of crimson exploded outward as bullets tore through the advancing blood elementals molded into twisted doppelgangers of Tyson and Deacon Frost. The constructs did not slow, crimson ichor splattering the floor with each hit as they bore down upon the vampires.
The stench of burnt gunpowder now mingled with the coppery tang of blood, the air thick with the fury of battle. Jubilee's eyes were wide with alarm. Sparks of prismatic light danced between her splayed fingers should she need to unleash them to drive back her possessed friend. But as she gazed upward into Tyson's face, she saw the familiar glint of warmth still shining in his eyes.
"It's me, Jubes," he said, "Promise."
At his words, Jubilee's stance eased. She let out a slow breath and lowered her hands, the deadly radiance fading from her fingertips. Though the situation still seemed dire, for now, she chose to trust him.
The vampires focused their assault upon the advancing elementals, leaving Tyson and Jubilee in the eye of the storm. Around them raged a maelstrom of shrieks and snarls, the staccato rhythm of gunshots underscored by the wet, meaty sounds of violence. With each vampire felled by the constructs, another crimson duplicate sprang forth, wielding a copy of the sentient blade, Muse. The duplicates bore down upon the vampires, swelling in number with each fresh kill.
Blade moved closer to the pair as Jubilee asked, concerned, "Is this okay? Did we just kick off the vampire... err... blood apocalypse?"
Tyson shook his head. "No. We stopped them. It's over." His gaze drifted to the blood duplicates still locked in mortal combat with the vampires. "The duplicates are only temporary, as are the copies of Muse."
"How do we know you're right?" Blade pressed, his skepticism evident.
Tyson's attention shifted to the sentient weapon in his hand. "I don't know everything this can do," he admitted, "but I can feel it a little." He leveled Muse at one of the blood duplicates. As he did so, the duplicate's copy of Muse dissolved instantly. Then the elemental itself broke apart, its form streaming back into the original blade in a scarlet torrent.
Muse's runes flared dimly as if absorbing sustenance from the returned blood. Tyson met Blade's gaze, a hint of challenge glinting in his own eyes. "Good enough?"
Blade's only response was a deliberate crack of his neck. "For now," he rasped after a pause. Then, with a sudden burst of speed, he darted off to find Karen.
Jubilee glanced around uncertainly at the blood duplicates and fallen vampires. The battle was winding down, but she still felt on edge.
"You're sure this is over?" she asked, turning to Tyson with a furrowed brow. Though his words had reassured her earlier, doubts were creeping back in.
He put a broad, steadying hand on her slender shoulder. "It's just cleanup now, Jubes," he said.
Jubilee searched his face, taking in the strength and certainty she found there. She let out a slow breath, feeling some of the nervous energy leave her small frame. If Tyson said it was handled, she believed him. Still, her mind spun with the implications of what they'd managed here today.
"If we can stop a god..." she wondered aloud, "what can stop us?"
One corner of Tyson's mouth quirked up. "Nothing," he replied, a note of humor underscoring his confidence.
Despite herself, Jubilee huffed a small laugh. "Except maybe Magneto," she joked, elbowing Tyson in the ribs.
He barked out a laugh at that, the sound rumbling up from his broad chest. "Ha Ha! Oh My God. You're so funny… Twilight," Tyson shot back sarcastically, ruffling her styled black hair.
Jubilee swatted his massive hand away with a scowl, though her eyes glinted playfully. "Hands off the hair." Then she exclaimed in mock affront. "And don't you dare take my vampire name in vain!"