Blade rolled his eyes, his tone carrying a rare hint of impatience. "This is the vampire Bible. Its value can't be measured in money. These pages record ancient secrets—origins of the vampire race, forbidden knowledge, things that go back centuries."
Rex didn't argue. Instead, he quietly pulled out a small handheld video recorder and began filming every page in the chamber with careful precision. His movements were steady, methodical, as if he were documenting evidence rather than admiring relics.
"So the real value is the information, not the paper," he said casually while adjusting the angle. "That makes things a lot simpler."
Blade ignored him and continued searching the secret room for anything useful. He couldn't read most of the content in the Book of the Dead, the language and symbols too ancient and obscure, but he had already gotten something from the obese archivist outside.
Frost had found something.
A ruin. An altar of some kind, with a complex structure that didn't match anything Blade had seen before. Its purpose was still unclear, but it was clearly important.
"Snap!"
Rex suddenly clapped his hands together, the sound sharp in the enclosed space. His voice carried a note of excitement, like someone who had just solved a puzzle.
"Got it. I think I understand now. Blade, you seeing this too?"
Blade raised an eyebrow and glanced at him sideways. "What exactly do you think you understand?"
Rex pointed at one of the glass-sealed pages, his finger tapping lightly against the surface. "It's all right here. Sacrifice twelve pure-blood vampire elders, and you unlock the power of the Blood God."
He leaned back slightly, crossing his arms with a confident smirk. "Frost's planning something big."
Blade stepped closer, narrowing his eyes as he stared at the page Rex indicated. He studied it for a long moment, his expression growing more and more strained.
Nothing.
He couldn't make sense of it at all.
After a while, he slowly turned his head and looked at Rex, who still stood there like everything was obvious. How did you even get that from this? Even with half-vampire blood, I can't read this at all.
And yet…
When combined with what he had already learned from interrogation, the theory fit disturbingly well.
"Does it say where the altar is?" Blade asked.
Rex shook his head. "No exact location, but something that massive? If it's near New York, it won't stay hidden for long. It also mentions the ritual needs a specific type of sacrifice—something special."
Before Blade could press further, laughter echoed from outside the chamber.
"Oh wow… look who we've got here. The legendary Daywalker."
A group of figures appeared at the entrance, blocking the doorway completely. At their center stood a tall woman with white hair and heavy eye makeup, her expression amused and confident. Around her were a mix of vampires and armed human mercenaries, all forming a tight encirclement.
It was obvious—they had come prepared to trap them.
Before Blade could respond, Rex stepped forward, his tone dropping into something cold and deliberate.
"Let me make something clear," he said slowly. "From this moment on, Blade is under my protection. If any of you want to touch him, you'll have to ask me first if I allow it."
Behind him, Blade blinked, clearly thrown off. From the way you're talking… did I just become your sidekick?
The white-haired woman tilted her head, exchanging confused looks with the people behind her. "And you are?"
Rex straightened slightly, voice steady and confident. "Crime buster. Iron Man."
The woman frowned faintly. "What kind of name is that?"
Rex's eyes sharpened instantly, a dangerous edge creeping into his gaze. "Careful. That's how people get themselves killed."
Blade had already drawn his weapon, ready to charge forward, but Rex suddenly extended a hand to stop him.
"Hold on," Rex said with a grin. "Watch this. It's going to look really cool."
Blade stared at him, completely baffled.
Then it happened.
A blinding flash erupted in the narrow space, so bright it momentarily erased all color. A streak of lightning tore through the group like a silver dragon, crackling with violent energy.
The white-haired woman and her entire team stiffened at once, smoke rising from their bodies as electricity coursed through them. Muscles locked, nerves overloaded—they stood frozen in place, unable to move.
Because they had clustered so tightly at the doorway, every single one of them was caught in the blast.
Rex tilted his head slightly, evaluating the result.
Not enough.
The power had been divided among too many targets.
"Alright… again."
Another surge of lightning burst out, slamming into the same group. Bodies twitched violently, the smell of burned flesh thickening in the air.
Still not enough.
"One more."
The third strike came, brighter and harsher than the last.
This time, it worked.
The entire group collapsed where they stood, their bodies barely able to respond anymore. Whatever resistance they had was completely gone.
Rex exhaled slowly, a hollow feeling spreading through his body as the ability hit its limit. Without hesitation, he drew his gun and walked forward, finishing each of them with cold efficiency.
One shot per target.
No hesitation.
Blade watched the entire scene unfold, stunned into silence. There had been dozens of enemies, enough to turn the fight into a prolonged battle.
And it had ended in seconds.
"Let's move," Rex said, reloading casually. "Vampires show up first. Police come after. We're not about to start shooting cops."
At the entrance, they split without further discussion, each heading in a different direction.
Just before they parted ways, Rex glanced back briefly. "Frost's probably got his eyes on you. Watch yourself—and anyone close to you."
Blade gave a short nod. "Understood."
As Rex disappeared into the distance, Blade remained where he stood for a moment, his thoughts turning over everything that had just happened.
Something didn't add up.
The build, the movement style… this Iron Man felt eerily similar to the masked vigilante he had encountered before. But that man had never shown anything like electrical powers.
So were they the same person… or not?
Strange.
…
"Agent Coulson, Agent Barton—please, have some tea."
In the quiet back garden of the church, Rex sat at a round table, a gentle smile on his face as he poured tea into two cups. The setting was peaceful, almost completely detached from the violence of the previous night.
"Milk? Sugar?" he asked casually.
"No, thank you," both men replied.
Rex set the teapot down and glanced at Phil Coulson, his gaze lingering briefly on the dark circles under the agent's eyes.
"You've been pushing yourself too hard," Rex said with a light chuckle. "Even if you're worried about Hell's Kitchen, you've got to rest. Look at Agent Barton—sharp eyes, steady focus. The moment he walked in, he already sized me up."
Both Coulson and Clint Barton exchanged an awkward look.
"Cough… let's stay on topic," Coulson said, clearing his throat. "We came to ask if you've heard anything recently. Since that night, the man in the devil mask hasn't appeared again."
Rex's expression didn't change, though for a brief moment, his eyes flicked downward toward the chair beneath him.
What a coincidence.
That exact mask was buried right under it.
"Nothing concrete," Rex replied smoothly. "But security around Hell's Kitchen has definitely improved. That much I've noticed."
That part was true.
After that night, George Stacy had gone all in. He personally led multiple patrols through Hell's Kitchen, using the evidence David had gathered to crack down on gang activity.
Arrests piled up quickly.
Before, even with his strong sense of justice, Stacy had understood the reality of the system. The gangs had deep roots, connections stretching into the police department, city government, even the district attorney's office.
Maintaining balance had been the only way to survive.
But everything changed after the appearance of the masked vigilante.
Now his career was on the line.
If he wanted to keep the public's trust, he had no choice but to act decisively.
And for now, it was working.
Crime rates dropped, gangs pulled back, and some media outlets were already calling it the start of a new era.
But Rex knew better.
This kind of peace was fragile.
Temporary.
Like a reflection in water—clear, but untouchable.
The increased patrols were exhausting the police force, and under the influence of certain hidden interests, opposition to Stacy was already beginning to form within the department.
It wouldn't last.
Rex smiled faintly and leaned back in his chair. "So… have you given up on chasing Devil Face?"
Coulson sighed, rubbing his temple. "I was about to. I had plans to head to Brazil, deal with something else. But then the Manhattan explosions happened, and I got pulled back in."
He gestured slightly toward Barton. "He got dragged into this too."
They had spent days searching for leads, coming up empty.
"That kind of large-scale poisoning incident," Coulson continued, his tone turning serious, "suggests someone with extreme tendencies. The Strategic Homeland Defense Attack and Logistics Agency can't ignore that."
"I heard some reports saying the whole thing was done by Kingpin," Rex said thoughtfully.
"That's nonsense," Barton cut in immediately. "No crime boss is that reckless."
Rex nodded slowly, as if considering something carefully. Then he added, almost casually, "I've also heard a different version. That maybe… the guy didn't poison the city. Maybe he just chose the wrong method to destroy drugs."
"Unlikely," Barton said firmly. "No one that capable would make that kind of mistake."
Rex paused for a moment, then looked at him with a faint smile.
"You're talking too much."
"That's not necessarily true," Barton shot back.
Rex leaned back slightly, his gaze drifting off as he spoke, his tone taking on a strange, thoughtful edge.
"You know… the world we live in…"
He let the sentence hang for a brief moment before finishing it quietly.
"…is actually pretty absurd."
....
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