Dennis still hadn't realized that falling into this man's hands meant living a life far more painful than death.
"Tell me your account, and I'll wire you a lot of money!" Dennis, ignorant of the horror laced in Duncan's words, spoke hastily. "No matter what your goal is, I can help you. I swear it on the name of my vampire clan—"
"Enough. Your clan, or whatever you call it, is worthless to me."
Duncan cut him off and only began walking over after the battle had finally settled.
Four Courier Xenomorphs against six vampires armed with firearms. Two of the Xenomorphs sustained minor injuries, which was still acceptable. After all, the Courier Xenomorphs were pitifully weak by nature.
The Courier Xenomorphs were born by parasitizing lower mammals like cats, dogs, cows, and horses. They naturally moved on all fours, spending most of their lives this way, and occupied the lowest rung in Xenomorph society.
While their attack power was the lowest, they were slightly more agile—a benefit of their small size, standing about 2.2 meters tall when upright.
Compared to Drone Xenomorphs and Warrior Xenomorphs, which couldn't even walk upright until hours after chest-bursting, Courier Xenomorphs matured significantly faster.
Their one redeeming feature was their ability to actively spit blood, something neither Drones nor Warriors could do.
The four Xenomorphs here had been born from ordinary lower animals, so expecting much in terms of raw power would be unrealistic.
Duncan glanced briefly at the officer who had been partially devoured.
"If I were you, I'd finish him off immediately and blow his head apart," Duncan remarked. "His body is already infected with the vampire virus. He'll slowly transform into one of them. Better to kill him before the change is complete."
George still held his gun, his sole source of confidence.
As for the young officers beside him? They were frozen in fear. For these rookies, this was their first glimpse into the darker corners of the world.
"Vampires… There really are vampires in this world… And these monsters…" a young officer muttered, staring blankly at the carnage before him before retching violently.
The vampires, impervious to bullets mere moments ago, had been skewered by the Xenomorphs, their blood and flesh splattering everywhere in a gruesome spectacle.
"Vampires are just the beginning," Duncan said with a casual smile. "This planet is far more fascinating than you can imagine. Whether it's demons or gods, nothing should surprise you."
If one ignored the terrifying Xenomorphs surrounding him like an entourage for a king, Duncan could almost pass for a charming and approachable gentleman.
"Sir, thank you—and your… companions—for saving our lives," George said, suppressing the pounding of his heart. The last few minutes had been overwhelming, and while he tried to steady his voice, a faint tremor betrayed his nerves. "I'll make sure to handle my colleague with care."
"Good. It's always easier dealing with someone sensible. Officer, what's your name?"
"George Stacy."
Duncan stroked his chin thoughtfully. That name, at that age… Yes, this must be Gwen's father.
"Sir, I still don't know your name. What do you plan to do with these vampires?" George mustered his courage to ask.
Drip. Drip. The steady sound of blood falling from the Xenomorphs—some vampire blood, some their own—filled the air.
"You'll learn my name eventually," Duncan replied dismissively. "For now, don't come back here, no matter who orders you to. Whoever sent you here wants you dead."
He waved them off nonchalantly.
While Duncan wasn't on the intellectual level of someone like Tony Stark or Shuri, he possessed basic deductive skills.
"Chief, isn't this guy keeping dangerous creatures? Isn't that illegal?" one officer asked after wiping his mouth, only to start vomiting again.
"Well said. I admire people with a sense of justice. But if you arrest Tony Stark first, I'll start taking you seriously," Duncan quipped.
With that, he walked away, disappearing into the darkness with his Xenomorphs, leaving behind a scene of chaos that bore witness to the extraordinary events that had just occurred.
George looked down at his colleague's mangled body, hesitated, then fired a bullet into his head.
"Chief!"
"Shut up. I know what I'm doing! This isn't over. I'll make that guy pay," George growled, his face dark with anger. He despised the person who had ordered him here, costing him a promising young officer.
Supernatural incidents shouldn't be handled by ordinary people ill-equipped to deal with them. At the very least, they should've been warned and given proper resources!
"Chief, didn't you say an animal rights group filed the report?"
"I lied. If it were just animal rights activists, the department wouldn't have sent us out here."
As for how to officially close this case… they'd chalk it up to vampires. It made sense—those bloodsuckers preying on small animals.
And that stranger commanding bizarre creatures? Definitely another superpowered individual. He had, after all, saved their lives from the vampires.
To Duncan, saving the officers was merely a minor detour. His real focus lay on the vampires he had captured.
Along the way, he treated the vampires with surprising care, genuinely concerned about keeping them alive.
This unusual kindness left the dying vampires bewildered. One even dared to suggest they could be saved if the Xenomorphs released them.
Ignoring their pleas, Duncan brought them back to an underground lair. He directed the Xenomorphs to unceremoniously dump the incapacitated vampires onto the floor.
Dennis scanned the surroundings nervously, realizing they were in what appeared to be a Xenomorph nest. The walls were coated with a slimy, organic substance, and a strange tube extended downward. Below it were three peculiar eggs, their occupants stirring with excitement at the newcomers' presence.
Just one glance at the eggs sent a chilling dread coursing through Dennis. He felt as though something horrifying had locked its gaze on him.
"Six vampires. Let's go one at a time," Duncan instructed.
Gripping one vampire by the neck, he forced the creature toward one of the eggs.
In an instant, the egg "bloomed," its top splitting into four petal-like sections. From within emerged a spider-like creature.
A Facehugger.
"Let me go! What are you doing?! Ugh…"
The vampire couldn't finish his sentence. The Facehugger latched onto his face, injecting an unknown substance into his body. Before long, his consciousness faded, and he slumped into a deep sleep.
"What… What are you doing?" Dennis stammered, unable to comprehend the horrifying scene before him.
"You'll find out soon enough."
Duncan carefully monitored the connection between himself and the Facehugger, confirming the parasitism's success. He was ecstatic.
This was a groundbreaking achievement—the first successful parasitism of a unique host.
Now, it was just a matter of waiting.
Duncan had endless patience, much like the Xenomorphs. He could wait silently for as long as it took to deliver a decisive blow.
Finally, the vampire awoke, disoriented. He shook his head and casually tossed aside the Facehugger's remains.
"What did you do to me? And why is this thing dead?"
"Vampire, you should atone for every human you've killed. But take solace in the fact that you've given me your strong body. I'll put it to good use."
Under the watchful eyes of the Xenomorphs, Duncan raised a finger and pointed at the vampire.
What happened next horrified the remaining vampires.
The vampire's chest bulged unnaturally before a grotesque creature burst forth, tearing through flesh and bone in a violent birth.
The vampire's screams of agony were music to Duncan's ears, his spasms the perfect dance of despair.
A new Xenomorph, infused with the finest vampire genetics, was born.
As it let out its first piercing screech, it announced the arrival of a new, boundlessly powerful species into the world.