"Everything that blood touches becomes sacred, for power comes from blood. To have blood is to possess power; to have power is to possess blood."
The world as we know it is quite mysterious. In the darkest corners of existence and far from our perception, a four-dimensional world shelters an evil being—or rather, beings—of unspeakable cruelty. They have lived there for decades, operating in a system beyond the reach of our universe. These beings are called vampires.
It is in this vampiric world that this whole story finds its meaning. Since the dawn of time, vampires have filled the world with their presence, in a completely imaginary way, drawn from a fairy tale. But when the collective consciousness believes in something, whatever the nature of the thought, imagination comes to life.
"Ah ha ha, today is a great day, it is the universal celebration of our kingdom," declared Dracula, sitting on his throne, a bottle of blood in his hand.
The place where he was located was his castle, which rose above the vampiric dimension. It was from there that Dracula could inspect the mortal world as if he were watching television.
The vampiric world looked rather like a desert at night, except that the sands were black and the sky had no describable shape or color. It bordered on the unreal.
'Wooowm,' a completely disembodied sound was heard inside the castle.
It was at that moment that Dracula raised a hand and made a dimensional portal appear, leading to the mortal world.
His subordinates, who were present, wondered what idea their king, their god, had in mind to open this passage.
"But... master, today is the festival of vampires, more precisely the celestial ascension. Why have you opened a breach towards those damned mortals?"
Dracula rose from his throne, levitating until he reached a shorter distance between himself and the portal.
"It's simple, my goal is to meet someone quite special among these fragile beings that are humans."
"I have an old friend who lives among mortals. He was also a vampire like me, alas. At that time, I was the first vampire to have existed since the dawn of time," he continued.
Dracula ran his hand through his hair and slicked it back, while remaining stylish.
"This human and I contracted this curse following a pact with Satan that was completely out of control," the name itself seemed to annoy him as he spoke it.
He then said: "In the mortal world, I met a creature of the opposite gender. I admit, she had an effect on me. She and I procreated and conceived a child who, to this day, should already be an adult."
Valak, completely in shock, couldn't imagine that Dracula would have a son who was a half-human, half-vampire hybrid. He seemed to understand the impact of Dracula's words and was not at all against the idea.
"So be it, my lord. If you have any trouble, summon me at once, I will be happy to help you," replied Valak, who had knelt before Dracula.
Dracula, without a word, entered the portal and appeared instantly, levitating above the city of Washington D.C., where the son in question was.
Indeed, Dracula's son is none other than Blacky Johnson. He is a young mixed-race man, his mother being African-American. He lived in the suburbs of the capital. At 20, Blacky had already finished university and was working in a shabby restaurant in his neighborhood.
He was taking out the trash when a man came out the back door to lecture Blacky, who was just sweeping outside the restaurant.
"Move it, my Negro, I don't have all day."
"Negro" was a term sometimes used by African-Americans among themselves to downplay racial discrimination. But in this case, it wasn't another "Negro" who had called him that, but a 30-year-old blond American man. And for Blacky, that was an insult.
"Hey, that's racist, man! I know you're the head of the cleaning service, but treat me with more respect, I'm not your slave," Blacky said in an annoyed tone. He identified more as a Black person than a white one.
The service chief in question lost it, spat on the floor where Blacky was cleaning, and uttered one sentence too many: "Shut your mouth and clean."
Blacky snapped on the spot and grabbed the man by his shirt collar to slam him against the wall; it should be noted that the latter possessed surprising physical strength.
Suddenly, with a single hand, he threw the service chief towards the trash can in the middle of the alley, which was particularly dark and swarming with rats.
"You brute!" complained the service chief. "You're fired!"
Blacky ignored his service chief's words and headed inside the restaurant where he ran into his coworker, who was busy with some trays.
His colleague could tell that Blacky was anxious, knowing that the service chief was a first-class scumbag.
"Did that moron piss you off again?" the colleague said discreetly.
"Yeah, as usual. I don't even know how he got hired at this restaurant, it's like the system favors that kind of individual," Blacky replied.
Half an hour before the end of the shift, Blacky was summoned to the owner's office. Unsurprisingly, he was going to be fired. He knew it; in any case, he didn't need to justify himself to the boss about what a scumbag the service chief was.
He walked down a long corridor that led to the boss's office. Along the way, there were dormitories, restrooms, and plenty of other useful rooms, but Blacky could feel eyes on him. It must be said that it's hard to be liked by everyone; there are those who like you and those who don't, and that's just how it is.
There were hushed voices gossiping about him, saying he was super aggressive towards the service chief over a little joke.
Blacky thought about it and found it absurd that people considered abnormal comments as fun or a joke; it was, without a doubt, a trivialization of the issue.
After a few minutes of walking, Blacky arrived at the office and knocked.
Knock... knock... knock...
"Come in," a deep voice sounded.
Inside the office, there was air conditioning, and also a smell of cigarettes. Clearly, the restaurant owner was a heavy smoker. At first glance, he was of Chinese origin.
This was Mr. Lee Feng, a fairly average businessman in Washington, but very well-known in China and a few other Asian countries. His restaurant, "Lee's Flavors," had opened all over the city of Washington, which was a testament to the large enterprise he had built.
He asked Blacky to approach and sit in the chair. First, he offered him some tea.
"No thank you, I'd prefer hot chocolate," Blacky retorted.
"Hee... hee... hee," laughed Lee Feng. "You are funny." Then he took on a serious expression.
"Okay... I get straight to the point, Mr. Blacky, why you attack service chief? I do not tolerate violence here."
His Chinese accent disoriented Blacky, who had to choose his words carefully.
"I... I know, Mr. Feng, but you must know that the service chief openly disrespected me by playing the race card, which led to the events you are aware of," Blacky replied respectfully.
Mr. Lee Feng nodded to show Blacky that he understood, and so the latter received no punishment from him. As for the service chief, he was suspended.
Blacky, all smiles, left Mr. Feng's office and went to get changed to go home. It was already 8 o'clock at night, and he needed to get home and rest.
When a deep voice called him from behind, alone at the edge of the pavement, Blacky turned around and saw a slender silhouette of at least 6'3" with a totally terrifying aura that repelled any living organism; even animals wouldn't come near.
"Hello, son... My, how you've grown."
Blacky had just met Dracula for the first time.