Marvel Ultimate Gacha

"How are we going to interrogate him?" Camille asked, looking at the bound vampire. She had dragged him inside after Michael knocked him out and tied him securely to a chair.

"First, let's bleed him to drain his strength," Michael said, his tone calm and methodical.

Camille nodded and stepped forward. She carefully made a small cut on the vampire's wrist, allowing the blood to drip into a basin below. As the blood continued to flow, the vampire began to stir, his movements weak but defiant.

Michael watched intently, then spoke. "Don't drain him too quickly. The process works better if his strength diminishes slowly and considerably."

Camille adjusted her technique, ensuring the bloodletting was gradual. For half an hour, she kept at it, watching as the vampire's defiance turned into exhaustion. Finally, when his strength was visibly sapped, Michael signaled her to stop.

"That's enough," Michael said,

"Leave me, or you will die miserably," the vampire hissed, his tone dripping with venom.

Camille's eyes narrowed in anger. "You've already tried to kill me once," she said coldly before punching him squarely in the face. The vampire's head snapped back, and he let out a sharp laugh, his fangs glinting.

Michael, invisible to everyone but Camille, placed a steadying hand on her shoulder. "Let's interrogate him first. Then, if necessary, we can kill him," he said calmly.

Camille nodded, suppressing her anger as she turned her focus back to the bound vampire. "Fine," she muttered. "What are you doing here?"

The vampire smirked, his tone mocking. "What else? Smartass hunters like you always think you're clever. I'm here to kill you, bitch."

Camille's fists clenched, and her jaw tightened. She fought the urge to hit him again but couldn't resist slapping him hard across the face, leaving a faint red mark. The vampire sneered, baring his teeth as blood trickled from his split lip.

Michael stepped closer, his expression darkening. "Stay focused, Camille," he reminded her, his voice low but firm. "We need answers, not a mess."

Camille exhaled sharply, steadying herself as she looked back at Michael, the only one who could see or hear him. "What now?" she asked, her voice tense.

"Push harder, but don't let your anger control you. Ask him who sent him and why," Michael advised, his gaze fixed on the vampire.

Camille nodded, drawing in a deep breath. She leaned closer to the vampire, her voice cold and steady. "Who sent you? And what do you really want?"

"Do your worst," the vampire sneered at Camille, his confidence unwavering.

Michael sighed in exasperation. "Pick up that piece of wood and stake him, but don't hit his heart—just graze it," he instructed calmly.

Camille nodded, picking up the makeshift stake. She moved closer to the vampire, who glared at her defiantly, his eyes filled with mocking disbelief. "You're bluffing," he sneered again, but his words faltered into a strangled gasp as Camille struck, driving the stake into his chest.

Michael's eyes widened as the vampire coughed and began to weaken. "I told you to graze his heart, not stake it altogether!" he said sharply.

Camille stepped back, her hands trembling as she stared at the now-dying vampire. "I... missed," she muttered, her voice shaky with a mix of guilt and defiance.

Michael moved closer to her, his gaze softening. "Look into my eyes," he said gently.

Camille hesitated, but then she turned to face him, her wide eyes locking onto his.

"He was a bad guy, Camille—a vampire. A ripper, dangerous vampire who was going to kill you. Don't feel bad about defending yourself," he said reassuringly.

Camille exhaled slowly, still shaken but comforted by Michael's words. She glanced back at the lifeless, gray body of the vampire on the floor, trying to steel herself against the wave of guilt.

"Camille," Michael said firmly, stepping in front of her, his presence commanding. "You didn't do anything wrong."

Camille nodded slowly, letting his words sink in as she turned away from the corpse. "Okay," she whispered, her voice steadier now.

Michael's gaze lingered on her for a moment before he gave a small nod of approval. "Let's move on. There's still work to do."

They then left the hotel, as Camille compelled the receptionist to forget about them, booking another hotel room, to ret for the night planning to visit the the Mystic falls next day.

After killing the vampire, Camille's energy seemed to drain away, leaving her subdued and quiet. She leaned into Michael, seeking comfort as she wrapped her arms around him. Without saying a word, she buried her face in his chest, clinging to the only steady presence she could find.

Michael hesitated for a moment before gently holding her, letting her find solace in his embrace. Slowly, her breathing evened out, and she fell into a deep, exhausted sleep, her grip on him loosening as she fully succumbed to rest.

Michael carefully laid her down on the bed, tucking the blanket around her. He stood by her side for a moment, watching her sleep peacefully. Her expression had softened, no longer clouded by guilt or fear.

Satisfied that she was resting soundly, Michael turned away and quietly left the room. He made his way back to the previous hotel, he looked as he saw the police already here.

" he is alive so that means its the time before the Originals came here" Michael mumbled seeing the John Gilbert, Elena's father.

Along with him is Elizabeth Forbes, the sheriff of the mystic Falls, together they are looking at the dead vampire body.

Michael moved closer, his ethereal form allowing him to listen unnoticed to the conversation. Standing just a few steps away from the group, he focused intently on their exchange.

"Who killed this vampire?" Liz—short for Elizabeth—asked, her voice sharp as she examined the lifeless body.

John knelt beside the corpse, studying the wooden stake protruding from its chest. He frowned, pulling the stake free with a practiced hand.

"Someone brave, but reckless," John replied after a moment. "They probably interrogated him first and then decided to kill him afterward."

Elizabeth crossed her arms, her expression unreadable as she looked down at the body. "Or it was someone who panicked and made a hasty decision. Either way, this wasn't done cleanly."

Michael smirked faintly, keeping his distance as he observed. They were clearly skilled, but their assumptions missed the mark entirely. Quietly, he thought to himself, You're not wrong, but not entirely right either.

He continued to listen, curious to see if they'd uncover any useful clues—or if he needed to intervene.

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