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Blade's activities had heavily suppressed the vampires' influence, bringing a brief period of calm to Los Angeles's underworld.
But after several months, this pressure seemed to have had the opposite effect. The hawkish faction among the vampires rose to prominence, and their counterattacks intensified significantly. As the saying goes, the greater the external pressure, the stronger the rebound.
Although their interference with the surface world had not returned to previous levels, clashes between vampires and vampire hunters sometimes became too conspicuous to conceal, even making their way into media reports.
However, when the news covered such incidents, they were either attributed to vicious criminals of no particular group, or the blame was shifted onto mutants.
As for the word "vampire," it remained strictly taboo.
Even Blade and Abraham Whistler's base had been raided once by vampires.
Fortunately, before the attack, Abraham Whistler had received a warning from other vampire hunters. With Black Super's help driving, they relocated their secret base from the warehouse district to an abandoned steel factory in the industrial zone.
Whistler was able to call in such favors largely because he had secretly spread the Embrace Serum developed by Black Super.
Those who became vampire hunters all shared a deep hatred for these dark creatures. For them, the most painful thing was either being turned themselves or seeing their loved ones transformed.
In the past, they could only rely on injecting garlic extract and gambling on luck. Now that there was a serum capable of curing vampirism, who wouldn't welcome it?
Not to mention, the serum could also be used as a weapon against vampires. Its only drawback was low production—otherwise, just in terms of material cost, it was far cheaper than silver bullets or silver stakes…
These hunters simply didn't trust half-vampires like Blade, so they were unwilling to work alongside him.
But Abraham Whistler, as a veteran hunter, was widely respected. Many of his connections were built with the support of his peers.
So when the vampires made a move, Whistler received a warning immediately and evacuated in time.
This chaotic experience of constantly relocating made Henry even more certain that building his secret base somewhere inaccessible to ordinary people was a wise decision. Moving every few days was truly exhausting.
While the battle between vampires and hunters raged in Los Angeles's shadows, another covert war was unfolding in the frozen lands of the north.
Alexei Shostakov, the super soldier codenamed "Red Guardian," had been arrested.
To prevent resistance or escape, the police came heavily armed. Every officer carried firearms, escorting the super soldier with rifles at the ready.
Though Alexei was a brute, his patriotism was genuine. He did not resist or refuse arrest—he only loudly demanded answers from those detaining him.
"Why? Why are you arresting me? All I did was suggest to that Tatar that we should adopt a more lively, more cheerful attitude instead of being so lifeless and serious like before.
"And I only said that to General Dreykov. Did he betray me? Dreykov, come out! I know you're watching nearby. Come out and face me—tell me why. Aren't we comrades?!"
Though he did not resist, Alexei could hardly be called cooperative. He kept turning his head, searching desperately for the treacherous ally who had betrayed him.
The squad leader of the arresting police, while directing his men, said, "Alexei, we're not arresting you for that bullshit reason.
"Don't you know the intelligence you brought back was wrong, yet you still bragged about your achievements? You damn fool. We're here under orders to investigate this matter, so cooperate."
Getting this bear-like man—several times stronger than an ordinary person—into the vehicle took everything the officers had. Their actions inevitably became rough.
That kind of force wouldn't injure a super soldier, but it did hurt his pride. Alexei protested loudly, "Hey! Show some respect, kid! When I was serving the country, you were still suckling milk. I am the Red Guardian!"
Behind him, a young officer pushing with all his strength to shove this bear of a man into the vehicle struggled to say, "Now… there's… no more… Red… that needs… guarding!"
Hearing this, Alexei seemed to lose all his strength. He stumbled and was shoved headfirst into the vehicle.
Perhaps because burying his face in the seat cushion was uncomfortable, Alexei adjusted himself and sat upright inside, allowing the officers to finally breathe a sigh of relief as they prepared to escort him to the State Security Bureau.
But just as they were leaving, Alexei—staring lifelessly out the window—suddenly shouted, "Suka… blyat! Stop the car, stop! I see a damned American—Nick Fury!
"Stop the car! Let's grab him! Do you know how valuable he is? Fury! Podlyuga! Was it you who set me up?! Aaaah!"
By the roadside, two figures—already wearing heavy coats despite it being early September—watched the convoy depart from the corners of their eyes.
It was early morning, the coldest time of day, so their attire wasn't particularly suspicious. The coats and fur hats also helped conceal their faces.
For the older one-eyed white man standing in front, the warm clothing was especially necessary. This mission had made him fully realize that his physical condition was no longer suited for fieldwork.
The young woman behind him was a capable newcomer assigned as support.
However, her composure still needed work. In situations like this, they should have walked past as if nothing had happened to avoid drawing suspicion.
But the target's booming voice seemed to carry even from inside the moving vehicle. The girl couldn't help asking, "Sir, did the Red Guardian notice us?"
Fortunately, she didn't turn her head toward the convoy, so her evaluation in the one-eyed old man's mind didn't drop.
The old man said, "Don't underestimate Alexei just because he's a brute. His battlefield instincts are terrifying. People like him are easy to take lightly—and that's how you end up dead.
"Luckily, we don't have to face him head-on. What about the second target? Did the contacts I gave you prove useful?"
Barbara Morse, who had come to the northern country, replied, "Sir, the Iron Maiden, Melina Vostokoff, has returned to General Dreykov's protection. No one can locate them."
"So in the end, she went back to the Red Room," Nick Fury said with a sigh. "What about the third target?"
Barbara Morse answered with some difficulty, "The collected fragments and components have been handed over to a courier and shipped back home. We only recovered part of the documents and personnel records from the former extraterrestrial research institute.
"As for personnel, quite a number are missing. We've only identified the whereabouts of a few. We're uncertain whether to make contact, so no contact plan has been initiated for now. If we want to find more, we'll need to stay longer."
Old Nick Fury asked, "Did finding evidence that the man is an alien make it hard for you to accept?"
"No, sir. I'm just concerned whether, as the Skrulls claimed, he might have psychological issues," Barbara replied, offering an excuse.
"Don't treat secondhand accounts from another species about events nine thousand years ago—especially from those who weren't even firsthand witnesses—as reliable intelligence. That man's behavior and performance are what we should base our judgment on."
"Yes, sir."
"Let's go. Withdraw along Route C. We've stayed long enough." With that, Nick Fury brought his journey in Russia to a close.
Perhaps this would also be his final field mission. Trading one Red Guardian was more than worth it, Fury thought to himself.
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