DC/Marvel: This Guy is Insane

Inside a secret surveillance room, the half-blood leader Deacon Frost watched the video feed. On the screen, Blade was locked in a brutal fight with several Talons.

"It seems your forces are not enough to capture the people I need," a judge of the Court of Owls, seated opposite him, responded calmly. "The attack was carried out by our most common Talons. We can activate more, including Talon Commanders. This was merely a test."

The half-bloods and the Court of Owls had formed an unholy alliance, each seeking something from the other. If Deacon Frost wanted to complete the Blood God ritual, he needed a large amount of human blood, a pureblood vampire, and Blade as a sacrifice. Only then could he summon the Blood God to possess him. The Court of Owls, meanwhile, needed to kill nine people every nine days to strengthen the sensory connection between the dark multiverse and this world, and at the same time, induce Bruce to come into contact with Nth Metal. At that point, the final steps of their own plan could be implemented.

Of course, the Court of Owls had not told Frost the whole truth. The bat-god Barbatos, who awaited his coming, would surely see lesser gods like the Blood God as little more than undead souls, and they would certainly be on the list of beings to be purged.

"I don't want him dead," Frost warned. A dead Blade would mean all his work had been in vain, and he would have to find a new primary sacrifice. For Frost, who was determined to overthrow the rule of the purebloods, this would undoubtedly add more risk. Since the birth of the vampire race, the pureblood nobles had maintained control. They would never sit idly by and allow their power to be overthrown.

There was one exception: the half-blood Count Dracula. Due to his own unique circumstances, he had forced the purebloods to recognize his identity. However, there were only one or two such special individuals; most half-bloods remained the same throughout their lives. In fact, Count Dracula's situation could be replicated, but the conditions were too harsh. According to legend, Dracula was once the monarch of a small country. Faced with an invasion, he had approached a pureblood prince and begged for conversion to protect his people. As it happened, the prince no longer wished to live, so he gave all his blood to Dracula. So, the first step was to capture a pureblood prince and drain his blood. In practice, it was better to find another way. Purebloods not only possessed powerful innate abilities but could also master vampire magic and even had a bloodline suppression that half-bloods were simply incapable of overcoming.

On another floor of the Starlight Building, a group of first-generation half-bloods fled in terror, looking back from time to time, as if a terrifying entity were chasing them.

"Hehehe…"

The terrifying laughter echoed down the long hallway. They had wanted to stop and rest, but the sound spurred them on, and they immediately broke into a panicked run.

"Don't stop! That lunatic is chasing us!"

"This is horrible! I'd rather fight the Daywalker!"

"I never should have come to Gotham."

Pfft…

One of his companions was ambushed and turned to ashes in an instant. They saw Alan standing there, watching, grinning grimly, as if he were enjoying the thrill of the hunt. He was slaughtering vampires, floor by floor, purely in revenge for their persecution of humans.

At the same time, without the interference of the vampires, Bruce had quickly come to Blade's aid, and together they had gained the upper hand against the remaining Talons.

"The water in Gotham runs deep," Blade grunted. "How can there be monsters that can't be killed?" His sunglasses had been broken in two, which annoyed him greatly. He relied on them to complete his look; without his accessories, he just didn't feel cool.

"They are the undead warriors created by the Court of Owls," Bruce explained. "I've captured a few and studied them. The special substance in their bodies keeps them immortal. The only way is to cripple them and then freeze them." During Alan's absence, Bruce had been attacked by the Talons many times. Having suffered a loss once, he had naturally prepared a lot of countermeasures. All captured Talons were now frozen and imprisoned in a secret cell block in Blackgate Prison.

"These guys are more difficult to deal with than vampires. I much prefer the simple pleasure of killing vampires," Blade said in annoyance. Against a silver weapon, a vampire could be killed with one strike. But the Talons were another story. Even a fatal blow was temporary; they would simply rise again, ready to continue the fight, a strategy designed to exhaust any opponent.

Bruce threw a Batarang. The Talon couldn't dodge in time, and the moment the device made contact, its hands were instantly covered with cold liquid nitrogen. Without hesitation, the Talon cut off its own arm. Seeing that Bruce had a weapon to restrain them, the remaining assassins immediately moved closer to the glass window. They shattered it with a sword and leaped away into the night sky.

"Chase them. We can't let them get away." Bruce took out his grappling gun, shot it at a tall building in the distance, and then swung into the air to give chase.

Blade came to the window, leaned out, and looked down. When he judged the height was fine, he jumped. During the rapid fall, his expression remained unchanged, as if it were a daily routine. Hunting vampires all year round required him to overcome various environments, and sometimes chasing prey meant jumping off buildings to take shortcuts. When he was about to touch the ground, Blade reflexively bent over and rolled to reduce the impact of the landing. The movements were smooth and fluid, without any pause. He stood up, dusted himself off, and prepared to chase after Bruce.

At this time, sirens sounded. Several police cars surrounded the area from all directions. The police officers got out, hid behind their doors, skillfully drew their guns, and shouted a warning, "Freeze! Drop the damn weapon, get on the ground, and put your hands on your head!"

"Who the hell called the police?" Blade was very familiar with this scene, as he had been misunderstood more than once. Sometimes, the vampires would even frame him as a murderer, which had forced him to join S.H.I.E.L.D. just to have an official identity.

"Don't make me empty this magazine! Do it now!" In a city like Gotham, police training was simple: when in doubt, shoot first.

A figure fell from the sky. It was Bruce, returning. When he saw the police cars approaching, he realized there might be a misunderstanding. After all, he was the one who had called them.

"He's with me," Bruce said in a low voice. Relying on Batman's reputation, the police officers chose to believe him. The Gotham vigilante shared a lot of their workload, after all.

"There are people on the fourteenth floor who need your help." The purpose of calling the police was to have the authorities rescue the homeless who had been turned into living blood banks.

As the police entered the building, Bruce turned to Blade. "Don't take it personally."

"It's not the first time. I'm used to it." If it weren't for his strong mental fortitude, Blade would have given up hunting vampires long ago. The vampires sometimes used even dirtier methods, and they were secretly helped by their human collaborators. If he hadn't joined S.H.I.E.L.D., he would probably be one of the most wanted criminals in the country by now.

"We've lost the targets. We need to make a long-term plan and update our equipment at the same time," Bruce suggested.

"No problem." With the Blood Clan and the Talons now working together, they would have to adapt their combat strategies or risk being overwhelmed.

***

(End of Chapter)

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