Blade rolled his eyes. "This is the Vampire Bible. Its value can't be measured in money. These pages contain ancient secrets—the origin of vampires, their weaknesses, their powers—knowledge that's been hidden for millennia."
Jason silently pulled out a small video recorder. "So what matters is what's recorded on it, right?"
While Blade searched the secret room for clues, Jason methodically filmed everything from beginning to end. Later, he'd hand the footage to David for analysis.
Blade couldn't decipher the cryptic text of the Book of Erebus, but he had extracted some valuable information from Pearl, the guardian. Frost had apparently discovered some kind of relic—an altar with an intricate design—though its purpose remained unclear.
"Got it!" Jason suddenly clapped his hands. "I think I understand now."
Blade raised an eyebrow. "What exactly do you know?"
"Look," Jason pointed confidently to a section of text. "It clearly states here that by sacrificing twelve pure-blooded vampire elders, one can obtain the supreme power of the Blood God or La Magra. Frost is planning something massive."
Blade examined the page Jason indicated, but couldn't make sense of any of it. He stared at Jason skeptically. How could he understand this when even I can't—and I'm half-vampire? Still, considering what Pearl had revealed under interrogation, Jason's interpretation seemed plausible.
"Does it say where this altar is located?"
"No, but it shouldn't be difficult to track down something as substantial as ancient ruins near New York. It also mentions that the ritual requires a special sacrificer..."
"Well, well, well. Look who we have here—the legendary Blade!"
Laughter echoed from outside the secret chamber as a large group blocked the exit. Their leader was a striking woman with platinum-white hair, heavy eye makeup, and an imposing presence.
They stood at the doorway smiling, clearly believing they had trapped their target.
Before Blade could respond, Jason stepped forward, his voice dropping to a cold, authoritative tone. "I'm officially informing you that from this moment forward, Blade is under my protection. If you want to touch him, you'll need my permission first."
Behind him, Blade looked confused. From your tone, it sounds like I've become your subordinate?
The white-haired woman and her entourage of vampires and human mercenaries exchanged bewildered glances. "And who exactly are you?"
"Crime-buster. Iron Man."
The white-haired woman looked perplexed. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Jason's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Lady, you're asking for death."
Blade drew his sword and prepared to attack, but Jason held out his hand to stop him. "Watch closely. This next move is going to be spectacular."
Blade: ?
The next moment, a blinding light flashed before everyone.
Like a silver dragon, electricity arced through the air in a brilliant display.
The white-haired woman and her followers were engulfed in blinding light, their muscles seizing as they stood frozen in place.
To block the exit, they had formed a tight formation—a tactical error that ensured every one of them received a share of Jason's attack.
But one lightning bolt wasn't enough when distributed among so many targets.
Let's try again.
Still not enough?
One more time!
After the third discharge, the white-haired woman and her group had lost all capacity to resist.
Jason felt a hollow emptiness spread through his body as his power temporarily depleted. Drawing his guns, he walked calmly through the stunned crowd, coldly ending each life with practiced precision.
Blade stood speechless. With so many enemies, he had anticipated a grueling battle.
"Time to go," Jason announced. "The first wave is vampires. The second will be police. We can't exactly start gunning down law enforcement."
At the exit, they prepared to part ways.
Before separating, Jason warned Blade: "Frost may have targeted you specifically. Watch out for your safety and the safety of anyone close to you."
"Understood."
As he watched Jason walk away, Blade fell into deep contemplation.
He had been skeptical from the beginning. The physique and movements of this "Iron Man" seemed vaguely similar to the Hell's Butcher vigilante, but he'd never heard that Hell's Butcher could discharge electricity.
Could they be different people after all? Strange.
"Agent Coulson, Agent Barton—please, have some tea."
In the church's back garden, seated at a round table, Jason poured tea for his two visitors with a gracious smile.
"Would you care for milk or sugar?"
"No, thank you," Coulson replied.
Jason set down the teapot and glanced at the dark circles under Coulson's eyes. "Even an agent as dedicated as yourself must rest occasionally, Agent Coulson. The safety of Hell's Kitchen is important, but so is your health."
He turned his attention to Barton. "Agent Barton, on the other hand, looks well-rested. Sharp eyes, keen gaze. The moment he walked in, he assessed me from head to toe."
Both S.H.I.E.L.D. agents shifted uncomfortably at the observation.
"Ahem." Coulson cleared his throat and changed the subject. "We came to ask if you've heard anything, Father. Since that night, the Hell's Butcher vigilante seems to have vanished completely."
Jason glanced discreetly at the chair beneath him, where, coincidentally, the Hell's Butcher mask lay buried. "Nothing specific, but I have noticed security in Hell's Kitchen has improved dramatically lately."
This wasn't an exaggeration.
Since that night, Commissioner George Stacy had become relentless.
He personally led his team on multiple patrols throughout Hell's Kitchen. Using the evidence of gang activity that David had previously distributed, Stacy had made numerous arrests.
Though always a principled officer with a strong sense of justice, Stacy had previously understood the reality: gang forces were deeply entrenched, with connections reaching into the police department, city government, and district attorney's office.
Consequently, he had maintained an uneasy peace with New York's criminal elements.
But the emergence of Hell's Butcher had shattered that equilibrium.
Stacy's career now hung in the balance.
To maintain his standing with the public, he had no choice but to implement dramatic measures.
His crackdown had proven remarkably effective in this early era—before super-villains had emerged on the world stage.
Public safety across New York had transformed, and criminal organizations had become more cautious.
Some media outlets had even suggested a new age of law and order was dawning.
But Jason knew better. All this was merely an illusion—flowers reflected in a mirror, the moon's image on water.
The improved security came at a cost: most police officers were working to the point of exhaustion.
With the subtle manipulation of certain individuals with agendas of their own, voices opposing George Stacy had begun to emerge within the police force.
This golden age of security was like a rabbit's tail—brief and fleeting.
Jason smiled at Coulson. "Has S.H.I.E.L.D. given up on capturing Hell's Butcher?"
Coulson sighed. He had originally been scheduled to fly to Brazil to investigate reports of unusual activity—"Green monster," as the assignment brief cryptically stated.
Unfortunately, the six explosions in Manhattan had changed his orders.
His fellow agent, Hawkeye, had also been reassigned to this case.
After days without leads, they had come to Jason as a last resort.
"I was prepared to move on," Coulson admitted with a weary smile, "but releasing toxins across an entire city suggests we're dealing with someone who has severe antisocial tendencies, possibly even a psychopathic disposition. The Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division must take such threats seriously."
"I heard some media reports suggesting Kingpin was behind the citywide poisoning?" Jason asked innocently.
"That's completely fabricated," Hawkeye interjected. "No crime boss, no matter how powerful, would be that reckless."
Jason nodded thoughtfully, then hesitated before speaking. "I've also heard rumors that Hell's Butcher wasn't attempting to poison the city at all, but rather chose an unfortunate method to destroy a drug shipment?"
"Highly unlikely!" Hawkeye stated firmly. "No vigilante with that level of skill would make such a fundamental tactical error."
Jason paused slightly. "You seem very certain, Agent Barton."
"That's not necessarily true," Coulson said, giving Barton a warning glance.
Jason pondered for a moment, then said, "Our world is actually... quite abstract, isn't it?"