A passenger plane from Ohio screeched onto the tarmac, making an emergency landing. Among the bustling crowd disembarking, a pale man wearing sunglasses moved with predatory grace. His every step exuded an unnatural stillness that made the hairs on the necks of those around him stand on end.
Taking a deep breath, he inhaled the scent of the city. To him, the air was a feast of unfiltered energy and vitality. Yet, to the other passengers, his presence sent a shiver of unease rippling through the crowd—an instinctive response to a predator among prey.
"Things were simpler before the treaty," he muttered, reminiscing about a time when his kind freely indulged their bloodlust. Now, he was bound by an agreement with human authorities.
The blazing sunlight didn't deter him. A slick layer of sunscreen and a tightly wrapped coat ensured his protection. As he walked, his sharp eyes caught sight of another pale figure descending from a different plane. Their gazes locked briefly, acknowledging each other without words before moving on.
Throughout the day, similar figures arrived in New York from across the globe, each summoned to witness a pivotal event—the arrival of the Blood God.
Across town, Matt Murdock, freshly discharged from the hospital, pushed his limits with recovery exercises. His companion, the Punisher, leaned against a wall, arms crossed, briefing him on recent developments.
"The vampires are gathering," the Punisher growled. "Their thirst for blood has skyrocketed over the past few days. They're preparing for something big."
Matt, mid-push-up, arched an eyebrow. "And your solution is… storming their lair alone?"
"Do I look like an idiot?" The Punisher's sharp tone cut through Matt's sarcasm. "This is out of our league. But we don't need to handle it ourselves. The government will do our dirty work."
Matt paused. "You're suggesting we tattle to the authorities?"
"No, not the local police. I'm talking about the military—people who won't hesitate to act when vampires gather en masse. We leak the intel and let them take care of the rest," the Punisher explained.
Matt nodded slowly. The plan, albeit unconventional, made sense. It wasn't just about justice—it was about survival.
The duo's conversation veered to the origins of vampires, pieced together from stories told by their ally, Blade.
Decades ago, vampires had basked in their arrogance, seeing themselves as apex predators. They divided their kind into rigid hierarchies—purebloods at the top and mixed-bloods below. But their hubris proved their undoing. During World War II, vampires made the mistake of crossing paths with the Nazis.
The Nazis, driven by a twisted sense of supremacy, had no tolerance for their kind. Armed with ultraviolet lamps and silver bullets, the Nazi forces decimated the vampire population, reducing them to a fraction of their former glory. Concentration camps became research facilities, and the ancient vampire language was lost as entire lineages were wiped out.
In a grim twist, the method of identifying vampires among Jewish prisoners was heartbreakingly simple: those with a heartbeat were human; those without, were not.
Faced with near extinction, vampires ultimately surrendered. They signed a non-aggression pact with the Allied Forces and joined the fight against fascism to ensure their survival. Since then, they had slunk into the shadows, cowed by humanity's capacity for destruction.
"If the army could defeat them then," Matt mused, "they can do it again now."
With their plan set, Matt and the Punisher infiltrated New York's city hall. Cornering the mayor, they delivered a report detailing the vampire activity.
Under the threat of violence—and perhaps electoral disgrace—the mayor complied, uploading the information to federal channels. The report quickly reached a shadowy division of the United Nations.
Above the ocean, the Helicarrier loomed, its cloaking devices rendering it invisible to the world below. Inside, Nick Fury, his iconic eyepatch in place, studied the intel with grim intensity.
"Vampires from across the globe are converging in New York," Fury muttered. "What are they planning? A war?"
Agent Coulson stepped forward. "Should we send someone to investigate?"
Fury shook his head. "No need. Their gathering is already a declaration of defiance. It's time to remind them of the rules."
He turned to another agent. "Contact General Ross. He's been itching for something to do since his last experiment escaped."
Back in New York, the atmosphere grew tense. Tens of thousands of vampires roamed the city, their presence a quiet but potent threat.
Despite their supernatural strength, Fury's decision to involve General Ross meant one thing: the vampires would face the full might of humanity's military and scientific advancements.