Click, click, click...
The sound of high heels echoed through the corridor as a female vampire with long black hair and brown eyes swayed her hips, walking with a feline grace toward the supervisor's office.
Stopping just outside the door, she tilted her head to listen. An amorous smile spread across her face as her pink tongue flicked over her lips, her eyes curving with mischief. "Well now, Iris, you insatiable bitch! I can't believe you're hogging the prize all to yourself!"
She brushed her hair back, her eyes shimmering with intent. She pushed the door open and stepped into the office, but her gaze found no sign of the supervisor, Iris.
Instead, their shared servant—that unlucky but handsome guy from the East, Makiya—was sitting in the chair behind the desk. He looked serious and focused, wearing the gold-rimmed glasses they usually used for roleplay. His messy hair was combed perfectly, and his hollow cheeks and sunken eyes seemed unexpectedly full of life. He looked energetic, a far cry from the weakling who usually looked ready to collapse after a one-versus-six session.
"Slurp... slurp... sip..."
A strange sound echoed in the office, sounding like someone hiding away to enjoy a bowl of ice cream.
"Ah, Esther. Are you looking for Iris?" Makiya looked up, a look of confusion on his face. He remained seated behind the desk, his tone natural and his expression composed, as if he were the true master of the room.
Vampires in the Marvel world cannot move under the sun; ultraviolet radiation causes unbearable damage to them. Consequently, the office was fitted with heavy curtains that were only drawn back at night.
The midday sun hit the dark brown curtains, casting a hazy, quiet glow over the room. Makiya's face was partially shrouded in shadow, his eyes behind the glasses bright as stars. One hand held a laptop steady while the other rested on the keyboard, seemingly preoccupied with his work.
"What on earth are you two playing at?" Esther ignored Makiya's words, her sky-high heels clicking as she rounded the desk. Just as expected, she found her supervisor, Iris, busy 'feeding' beside him. "What's this, Iris? Are you two playing at a role-reversal today?"
Esther watched Iris's performance, her red lips parting slightly. "Is there really a need to try that hard? Hey, your throat is bulging. You're playing big today, aren't you?"
"Ahem. To be precise, it isn't just today," Makiya said, leaning back against the soft, comfortable backrest of the high-end office chair to correct her. "We might be 'playing this big' every day from now on. It all depends on my mood."
Esther frowned. "Watch your status, slave. Who gave you the guts—"
"
A red light flared. The anger was still etched on Esther's face when she realized with horror that she could no longer control her body.
It was as if her limbs had a mind of their own. Under Esther's terrified gaze, she kicked off her heels and gracefully leaned down, kneeling right beside Iris.
A person under Complete Hypnosis was less than a silicone doll. Makiya had intentionally left them with a glimmer of self-awareness; after all, that was where the true fun of hypnosis lay.
The masters of Erotica knew this well, and Makiya was applying those lessons now, having mastered the essence of the craft.
The gap between Makiya's current status and their previous roles was like heaven and earth. The massive psychological shift filled the two vampires with fury, yet their hearts were simultaneously flooded with terror and panic.
They couldn't understand how a slave who had been at their mercy only the night before could change so drastically in a few short hours. Where did these powers come from? Had he been faking it this entire time?
Iris was the supervisor, and Esther was her deputy. Western names were often too complicated for Makiya to bother remembering, so he planned to simply refer to them as Number One and Number Two.
There would eventually be a Number Three, Four, and Five. Every single person who had once stood over him and humiliated him would be dealt with, one by one.
Makiya moved the mouse, clicking play on the video that Number Two had interrupted.
The webpage showed an awards ceremony in Las Vegas. On the massive screen, a tribute to the legendary career of arms dealer Tony Stark played as a military representative, a Black man named Colonel Rhodes, gave a speech.
Makiya kept his eyes on the screen, his brow furrowed in deep thought. His hands gripped the edges of the desk so tightly that cracks began to spiderweb across the expensive solid wood.
"Hiss..."
On screen, the ceremony continued. Colonel Rhodes repeatedly called out Tony's name, but the audience's applause slowly died down as people looked around, hoping to catch a glimpse of the great merchant who defended national interests—Tony Stark.
However, despite several calls, the man Rhodey had praised to the heavens was nowhere to be found. He was likely in some casino suite being 'praised to the heavens' himself, clearly not caring about his best friend's accolades.
Ultimately, it was the high-ranking executive of Stark Industries and Tony's partner, the bald Obadiah Stane, who appeared. He accepted the trophy from Colonel Rhodes, bailing out his friend whose face had already turned a bright shade of red from embarrassment.
Perhaps it was a racial talent, but everyone could see that behind Rhodes's practiced smile, he was absolutely seething.
Makiya's breathing grew ragged, alternating between sharp gasps and long exhales, as if he were feeling indignant on Obadiah's behalf. The playboy Tony Stark was indeed a reckless man, standing up his best friend to play poker with some bunny girls at a casino. It was truly detestable.
"Let us once again revisit the legendary career of Mr. Tony Stark..."
"
The screen replayed selected highlights, focusing on the recently developed Jericho Missile. American media always knew how to find the best angles to ensure the audience felt the full weight of the weapon's power through the screen.
The Jericho Missile lived up to its price tag and Tony's philosophy. A good weapon only needs to be fired once. In the footage, the sub-munitions carried by the missile leveled an entire range of hills. Even through the screen, the terrifying power was palpable.
Makiya gasped again, as if he could see the weapon being used to slaughter in the Middle East. The thought of the impending humanitarian crisis filled him with 'pity.' His entire body tensed and began to tremble. In his grip, a piece of the desktop was actually torn away, and the atmosphere in the office grew heavy.
A moment later, Makiya's brow unfurled. His muscles relaxed, and he slumped back into the chair, his eyes drifting toward the ceiling as if lamenting his lack of strength to save the world. He let out a long, lingering sigh.
Following a faint sound of swallowing, two soft "mua..." sounds signaled the end.
Number One and Number Two crawled out from the gap under the desk. For some reason, damp strands of hair had stuck to their lips, and they reached up to tuck them behind their ears. They leaned down and parted their red lips, presenting their mouths to Makiya as if they were patients visiting a dentist.
Because they retained their self-awareness, their faces were flushed with a mix of embarrassment and vivid rage. Their two fangs were quite prominent even in the dim light.
This sort of thing wasn't entirely new to them, but doing it voluntarily was a world away from being forced. As noble vampires, when had they ever been subjected to such treatment?
Makiya ignored their murderous glares and unlatched the collar from his own neck. Under Iris's furious gaze, he reached out and fastened it around her slender, white throat.
"Look at you, your face is twisting with rage." Makiya patted Iris's delicate cheek. "Go and gather all the vampires in the blood bank. Everyone must be in the collection hall at 3:30 AM. No exceptions."
"Yes, Master," Iris said through gritted teeth. Although the blonde was full of defiance, the voice she produced was the exact opposite—sweet, gentle, and carrying a hint of a whine.
"Number Two, send a notice to all the high-level members. They must return to the blood bank within two hours. Iris is calling an emergency meeting."
"Yes, Master."
The two didn't move immediately. Instead, they fished makeup mirrors and various bottles of cosmetics out of their bags and began touch-ups. Only after Makiya's repeated prompting did they finally leave to carry out the orders.
Once they were gone, Makiya began searching the internet for news from his memories, trying to confirm if this Marvel world was the comic universe or the cinematic universe.
The result was a total lack of clarity. The news reports were vague; unscrupulous journalists twisted facts, inverted truths, and exaggerated everything. They seemed to follow the core tenet of journalism: nine parts lies to one part truth, leaving behind very little useful information.
Real major news never stayed online for long. Only during live broadcasts could one see anything explosive; immediately afterward, the authorities would suppress the story, ensuring the truth only circulated among a small group of people to prevent widespread panic.
The only thing he could confirm was Tony Stark. His face was practically identical to Robert Downey Jr., the actor who played Iron Man in his previous life.
'I really hope it's the cinematic universe,' Makiya prayed fervently.
The power levels in the MCU weren't too insane, and he could likely handle them. If it were the comic universe, he'd have to give up any grand ideas and just focus on developing his strength in the shadows until a real powerhouse appeared in the mysterious space.
The combat power and timelines in the comics were a chaotic mess. Without at least a single-universe power level, one wouldn't even dare to show their face; only multi-verse levels could sit at the main table.
As he browsed, Makiya opened the local server and began digging through the files, hoping to find useful information in the vampires' database.
Skipping past a large number of 'combat' recordings uploaded by Iris, Makiya found a folder specifically marked as 'Extremely Dangerous.' Inside were the most lethal enemies of the vampire race.
The handsome Black man at the top of the list felt very familiar. It wasn't because he had any special fondness for the man, but because that face was identical to the movie protagonist from his memories. Combined with Tony's face, this was a strong sign he was in the MCU.
Blade, also known as the Daywalker. He was the mortal enemy of all vampires, having destroyed numerous blood banks and rave bars, killing countless vampires. He possessed the strengths of a vampire without any of their weaknesses, making him an object of both envy and hatred.
However, the timeline was a bit off. Makiya remembered Blade's story taking place in '98, long before Iron Man. Yet here it was, 2008, and a vampire elder who should have been killed by Blade in the story was still alive and well, having just inspected the Hell's Kitchen branch last month.
"The timeline is a bit of a mess..." Makiya muttered, taking a sip of his yogurt while continuing to search the database for any useful scraps.
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