Boom!
The force of the impact sent Blade flying nearly three meters before he twisted midair and absorbed part of the momentum. He landed hard, boots skidding across the dusty floor, and straightened again without falling. When he looked back at Quinn, a faintly amused smile spread across his dark face.
"Interesting," Blade said calmly, rolling his shoulders as if loosening up. "I was wondering how you suddenly found the courage."
He tilted his head slightly, studying Quinn with sharp eyes. "So you got upgraded."
Blade knew exactly how strong Quinn used to be. What he had just felt was not a small improvement—it was the difference between ground and sky. A vampire's strength didn't skyrocket in a few days without reason. Power among their kind came from blood.
The purer the blood, the stronger the vampire.
Which meant Quinn had been purified.
In other words, Dickon had invested blood essence into him.
"Tsk," Blade clicked his tongue, flicking his sword into another tight flourish before glancing toward Frost, who still stood near Locke's former position. "Promoting trash like him isn't your style, Dickon."
Even high-level vampires couldn't endlessly elevate their vassals. Advancement required precious blood essence. If there were no limits, New York would be flooded with B-level vampires, and A-levels would be as common as strays.
As a hybrid, Blade understood that better than most.
Frost narrowed his eyes. "If you hadn't toyed with Quinn over and over, I wouldn't have bothered."
Toyed with?
It wasn't discipline.
It was humiliation.
Blade flashed two rows of white teeth in a grin. "My bad."
"Die, Blade!" Quinn roared, his voice cracking with rage.
He lunged again, faster than before, moving like a dark streak across the hangar floor. Blade's expression shifted from casual to focused in an instant. With a sharp motion of his left hand, he pulled his second sword free.
Two blades.
Against a B-level vampire, half-measures were suicide.
The clash was immediate and violent. Claws struck steel in rapid succession, producing sharp metallic ringing that echoed against the hollow walls. Sparks flashed in the dim light, and a faint smell of scorched flesh began to fill the air.
Quinn's claws were smoking.
Blade's twin swords were forged from silver.
Everyone in their world knew what silver did to vampires.
"Mr. Underwood."
"Mr. Frost."
Locke turned slightly as Frost addressed him. Though Frost's earlier performance had been heavy-handed, Locke was genuinely curious how he intended to play the next act.
Frost glanced back at the ongoing fight before looking at Locke with grave seriousness. "You should leave first. I'll escort you out."
Escort me?
Locke's thoughts sharpened immediately.
Shouldn't you take this opportunity to kill me and pin it on Blade?
Ah.
You're unsure whether I've prepared something else.
That hesitation told Locke everything.
His mind spun rapidly as he assessed the scene. Brown and the others should already have cleared the perimeter. Blade's descent had been the signal. The System prompts for extraordinary points had begun ringing in his mind moments ago, one after another.
That meant the operation outside was proceeding as planned.
"Alright," Locke said with a nod.
He would follow Frost's script and see how far the vampire was willing to act. There was no rush. He walked toward the Audi A8 parked off to the side and, without forgetting, picked up the two suitcases and tossed them into the back seat before getting in.
Frost's eyes twitched briefly at that, but he didn't intervene.
The engine started.
Locke drove slowly toward the hangar exit.
Blade saw it.
With a sharp motion, he swung his right arm and hurled one of his long swords toward the departing vehicle.
Bang!
Metal clashed midair.
Frost moved like a phantom, appearing beside the Audi in a blur. His right hand struck the flying sword aside with explosive force, sending it spinning away.
"Mr. Underwood," Frost said firmly, "rest assured. Blade will not leave here alive."
Locke didn't respond. He simply drove out of the hangar.
As the abandoned structure receded in his rearview mirror, he understood one thing clearly.
Blade would leave alive.
And he now almost fully understood Frost's script.
Simple.
Crude.
If Hollywood dared to film something this predictable, the box office would collapse in embarrassment.
A few minutes later, Locke pulled over in the darkness a short distance away. He stepped out, lit a cigarette, and exhaled calmly into the night.
Crash.
Soft, coordinated footsteps emerged from the shadows.
More than a dozen figures materialized almost instantly, moving with professional efficiency. Brown led them, pulling off his night-vision goggles as he approached.
"All thirty-five vampires that followed have been eliminated," Brown said, unable to hide his excitement.
"No leaks?" Locke asked.
Before Brown could answer, Debbie's voice came through the earpiece.
"Relax, boss," she said confidently from the command center. On her screen, Sentinel satellite feeds displayed real-time visuals. "We've been monitoring since this afternoon. Thirty-five outside, plus the two inside the warehouse. That's the full count."
Locke nodded.
"Good."
Brown shifted slightly. "What's next? Do we rush in?"
"No." Locke blew out a slow smoke ring and narrowed his eyes toward the distant hangar. "We wait a little longer."
The corner of his mouth lifted faintly.
"The vampire's script is terrible. But I respect the courage it takes to perform something that bad. Let him finish."
He knew exactly what Frost was attempting. Establish visible cooperation. Let Blade escape after a dramatic confrontation. Frame Blade as the aggressor and position Locke as Frost's 'ally.' Create a new dynamic.
Cheap.
Predictable.
But bold.
"Blade won't die tonight anyway," Locke added quietly.
Brown looked like he wanted to object. Every second they waited meant uncertainty. But tonight's operation had been under Locke's direct command from the beginning. After a moment, Brown closed his mouth and remained silent.
Locke studied the hangar for another second before turning back to Brown.
"You have a combat tablet?"
"Yes."
Brown handed it over.
"Debbie," Locke said immediately, "send me the live feed from inside."
"Give me a second."
At the command center, Debbie signaled to the technician beside her. The Sentinel network locked onto the signal transmitter Locke had placed earlier.
When Locke had arrived ahead of time, he had discreetly fired a micro-transmitter into the hangar ceiling.
A Sentinel Lab product.
And Sentinel technology rarely disappointed.
If even Professor X would have struggled to detect it, a vampire certainly wouldn't.
The screen flickered to life, displaying the interior of the hangar in sharp clarity.
...
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