I'M IN MARVEL

CHAPTER 7 : Vampire, Something Happened to You!

October 30, 2010, Saturday afternoon.

Russell exited the Sanctum Sanctorum of the Ancient One, now disguised as a simple psychological consultation room. Five days had passed since his last visit.

During their prior meeting, the Ancient One proposed a deal: Russell would take charge of the current vampire outbreak, and in return, she would heal all the innocent individuals infected by the curse.

Russell vividly recalled her sly smirk when he agreed—a subtle triumph that mirrored his own expression when he later assigned intelligence work to Gwen Stacy.

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At the bookstore, Gwen sat idly at the front desk, looking exhausted.

"Gwen, how's the investigation coming along?" Russell asked casually.

"We found the vampires' gathering spot," she replied, her weariness lifting slightly. "New faces keep showing up. Their numbers have skyrocketed in the past two days, and I estimate there are tens of thousands now."

For days, Gwen had tracked the vampires throughout the city, returning only at dawn. Concerned about her well-being, Russell had granted her paid leave, reasoning that the eighteen-year-old could still grow taller if she got enough sleep.

"Russell, what's the plan? If we don't act soon, they'll attack civilians, and the city will be in chaos."

Russell frowned. "With proper preparation and their vulnerability to ultraviolet light, we could win a direct fight. But capturing them all is another matter. Once they scatter, there's no way to contain them."

"So, call the police?" Gwen asked skeptically.

Russell smirked. "The NYPD? Against vampires? No chance. Besides, it's likely there are vampires embedded in their ranks. We need someone with more influence and resources."

Their gazes met as the same name came to mind: Tony Stark.

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Stark Tower

Tony Stark, dressed in casual wear and holding a glass of wine, greeted them with his usual mix of charm and sarcasm.

"Ah, pajama baby," he said to Gwen, referencing her Ghost Spider suit. "Finally here. Have you decided on your wish? Owing someone a favor is a heavy burden, you know."

Then, spotting Russell, he added, "And you, Mr. Snark. What brings you here? Wine, coffee, tea? Name it—I've got everything."

Russell chuckled but said nothing, silently vowing to pay Tony back when the genius inventor's palladium poisoning worsened.

Gwen quickly summarized the situation.

"Vampires?" Tony raised an eyebrow. "I thought they were just urban legends. Jarvis, run a search."

"Right away, sir."

As the AI processed data at lightning speed, Russell watched the streams of information flash across the screen, feeling momentarily lost.

"Fast," he murmured, impressed.

Moments later, the data resolved into images and text, including an enlarged portrait of 'Deacon Frost'.

"Sir, this information was retrieved from S.H.I.E.L.D.'s database," Jarvis announced. "Vampires have existed for centuries. During World War II, they clashed with the Nazis and suffered massive losses. Fleeing Europe, some sought refuge in America, striking a covert deal with local authorities for protection."

Jarvis continued, "One faction now resides in New York, led by Deacon Frost. He's planning a ritual to summon the Blood God, using twelve pureblood vampires and the Sunwalker, Blade—Eric Brooks."

Russell interjected, "Once the Blood God is awakened, Frost intends to spread its power to other vampires, erasing their weaknesses."

Tony leaned back in his chair. "So it's just another vampire civil war? Why should I care?"

"Frost's ambitions extend beyond his kind," Russell explained. "He sees humans as inferior—nothing more than food. He plans to provoke a war between vampires and humanity."

Gwen added, "I've been tracking them for days. They're connected to dozens of disappearances. If we don't act, the consequences will be catastrophic."

Tony frowned. "And what's the FBI or S.H.I.E.L.D. doing? Sitting on their hands?"

Jarvis answered, "Sir, intercepted communications suggest both agencies are aware of the situation."

"Then why haven't they done anything?" Gwen demanded.

"Today's Saturday," Tony replied dryly. "Maybe they're taking the weekend off."

"Jarvis, connect me to Nick Fury."

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Aboard the S.H.I.E.L.D. Helicarrier

Nick Fury, clad in his signature leather trench coat and eyepatch, was barking orders. "The military's stalling, claiming they need the weekend off! We'll proceed without them. Block off vampire hotspots and keep surveillance tight. Bonuses for anyone pulling overtime!"

When Fury learned that Tony Stark was calling, he sighed. "Answer it."

"Fury," Tony began, "what do you know about the vampires?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Fury replied tersely.

"Doesn't matter. What matters is why you're not taking action."

Fury scowled. "S.H.I.E.L.D. is handling it. That's all you need to know."

"I don't see any handling," Tony shot back.

"Classified," Fury said flatly.

The tension was palpable until Agent Phil Coulson stepped in.

"Mr. Stark, we share the same goal: protecting New York. S.H.I.E.L.D. is doing everything possible, but our resources are limited. Cooperation is our best option."

After a long pause, Tony nodded. "Fine. But no more 'classified' nonsense. Full transparency, or the deal's off."

"Agreed," Coulson said, extending a hand.

Tony took it. "Let's get to work."

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