Vampire in DC

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Vampire Rule N°26: Why be a parasite when symbiosis is an option? Make yourself so precious and necessary to mankind that opposing you, much less attempting to purge you, becomes utter self-harm and insanity.

… … … … … … … … … … … … …

John Harker smiled wryly.

On his right was a freaky, murderous snake-lady.

On his left was a merry band of assault rifle-carrying gentlemen with very lackluster trigger discipline.

Both sides came here with the sole purpose of turning him past tense by any means necessary, so he'd usually just use some of that sweet, satisfying superhuman speed to get out of the way and let them deal with their own issues before stealth-hunting them one by one.

That would be the logical thing.

But on the other hand, he did want to keep his new pet snake, and dozens of bullet-sized holes on its skin were neither good-looking nor practical, someone might even call Peta.

Now that would be ghastly.

Moving out of the way while she's still recovering from his fist of love would surely end with her turning into Swiss cheese with tits, trying to move her around with inhuman speed would work, but it would also snap her neck.

Just ask Gwen Stacy, she'd answer if she wasn't so busy being dead.

'What a dilemma!' He thought, his smile growing by the microsecond, but time was ticking and he had to make a choice, 'Should I bail and let the snake lady fry? Or should I be a good little monster and save her skin?'

"¡Hijos de puta!" she cursed, her voice dripping with venom as she realized she'd been double-crossed, her potty mouth at least drowned out the clicking sound of the basic yet crucial device in John's pocket.

His decision was made.

From now on, John Harker is an eco-activist, pass him the glue and lead the way to the museum.

He didn't have time for half-measures. He spent some of his plentiful blood to further enhance his resilience, feeling his body surge with inhuman strength. Without another word, he sprang into action, grabbing Copperhead and pulling her into a tight embrace.

"What the hell are you doing, cabron!?" she snarled, wriggling in his grasp, but he held firm.

The gangsters opened fire, bullets tearing through the air, slamming into John's back. His bloodbuff and healing worked overtime, patching up the many holes that were being punched into him. The pain was intense, searing through his nerves, and a lesser man would have screamed in terror.

'This is bloody metal.' He couldn't help but think, even as he both felt and saw his reserves dwindle through the system interface, the hunger growing with each second, 'If it comes to that, snake-girl probably wouldn't mind lending me a few pints.'

Said woman was currently shocked out of her mind, her heart going crazy as she felt her target, the man she was hired to kill, now the self-imposed barrier between her and those who seek to end her life.

Copperhead felt his body shake, felt him groaning in pain, and yet he held strong.

Droplets of his blood fell on her face, and she couldn't help but wonder.

"Why?" Her voice couldn't be heard among the blazing gunfire, but she asked anyway, her lips moved on their own.

*Bang*

*Bang*

*Bang*

The vampire currently role-playing as the uber-powerful gimp, minus the insane abilities that made the whole masochistic fighting style possible, heard her full well despite the chaos all around as bullets battered his back and sent blood, flesh and lead flying.

However, he was too preoccupied with trying to keep his unlife to answer her newfound curiosity with some clever albeit cheesy quote that only worked because he looked good and was in the process of saving her life.

Some other time, perhaps.

'Still, this situation is far from ideal,' He thought, while a particularly precise, or lucky, gangster started tickling his spine with an M16.

Running away wasn't an option; it would slow his healing, and that was the only thing keeping him from turning into a shredded piece of meat. Using Presence wouldn't help either. The gangsters were too confident, too trigger-happy. His blood was better spent elsewhere.

So, he just stood there, taking the barrage, waiting for their magazines to empty or for something to give him an edge. The heavy gunfire began to slow as mags, and not clips, ran dry, but before John could capitalize on the lull, a roar cut through the chaos.

The cavalry was here.

"What the fuck?" One of the goons managed to blurt out before getting real intimate with a bumper.

A black Toyota SUV with bulletproof glass rammed through the rusted-up warehouse doors, barreling full speed into the line of gangsters. The men barely had time to react before the vehicle plowed through them, bullets ricocheting harmlessly off the reinforced windows.

Inside, Reginald Cousins was in a full-blown blood rage, his eyes wild as he floored the gas pedal. He'd received the call to action from his liege, and nothing was going to stop him.

The gangsters scattered, trying to regroup, but the intervention gave John all the time he needed. His reserves were low, painfully so, but he could fix it in an instant.

The assassin barely realized what was happening when he lowered his head, fangs bare, and pierced her neck.

It was a credit to her that she didn't moan right away, but he could feel her relaxing and melting against him, he could see her shaking and hear her grinding her teeth.

And then it came, ever so subtle, ever so quiet.

*Moan*

'Magnificent, shit like this is why I get up in the evening.' He smiled against her skin, his fangs still penetrating her neck and pumping out the best of her blood.

With the first gulp alone, the first taste, John knew he had struck gold.

Think of your favorite food, your favorite song, your favorite place and your strongest orgasm to date. Add in the affection of your impossible crush and the realization of your wildest dreams and ambitions, multiply by ten and it would still pale in comparison.

It was pure ecstasy, for the both of them.

'So sweet, so powerful...' He sucked and drank the red liquid in a frenzy, barely able to stop himself before hurting his new, beloved pet.

Yes, there was no way he'd let her go now.

Not such a fine fighter, not someone with such exquisite blood quality.

Not his very first meta-human.

[Vital reserves replenished. Blood intake successful. All physical and supernatural reserves at full capacity. ]

[Blood Points: 1200/1200]

He barely drank a dozen pints, and yet it was more than three human's worth of potency, the only one to ever come close to this was Vicki Vale, and even she wasn't so absurdly enticing and rewarding.

Both were characters that played roles, albeit minor ones, in the story of this world.

Yet for Copperhead's blood to have such superiority...

The difference between a human and a trained meta-human was just that great.

And what about aliens? Amazons? Kryptonians? What kind of power would he achieve if he could just have a taste of their vital essence?

He was almost shaking in excitement.

[Congratulations. You've fed on a noteworthy individual. Essence absorbed exceeds standard parameters. Metahuman traits detected—agility and speed enhancements. Your power grows…]

That much was obvious, meta-blood was unlike anything he's had before...

[Reward processing…]

[You have gained: 2500 Experience Points, Minor Agility Boost.]

'Oh, daddy likes,' He grinned, knowing full well what comes next.

The gangsters previously discombobulated were starting to regain their bearings, pick up their guns, and would soon attempt to finish the job.

Poor things…

[Status:

- Level: 7

- Name: Jonathan Harker

- Age: 16

- Titles: Started From The Bottom, Jailbait.

- Race: Vampire (Fledgling)

- Blood Points: 1200/1200

- Exp: 2900/600]

Numbers going up, so beautiful.

[Level up?]

'Darn right, I will!' He thought, and if his maths were correct, things were about to change big time.

[Level 8 reached!]

[Blood Points: 1200/1400]

[Exp: 2300/800]

'Again.'

[Level 9 reached!]

[Blood Points: 1200/1600]

[Exp: 1500/1000]

'Yes!' He was once more reduced to inhumanly fast tweaking like a gacha addict, 'Again! Again!'

[Level 10 reached]

And then it came, the burning of his blood, the pain and pleasure merging together as his body twisted and changed so fast yet so unbearably slowly.

Evolution.

The next step in the totem of vampiric hierarchy.

[You have reached a new level of maturity: Neonate, the potency of your blood has reached that of a fifty years old vampire, physical traits and abilities have reached a new level of power.]

[New ability developed: Blood Manipulation.]

[Status Updated—]

[ Level: 10

- Name: Jonathan Harker.

- Age: 16

- Titles: Started From The Bottom, Jailbait.

- Race: Vampire (Neonate)

- Blood Points: 1200/3000

- Exp: 500/5000]

"Yeah," He breathed out, after licking the woman's wound close, his eyes burning red, a dangerous smile on his face, "Time to go for a walk."

Copperhead, now both thoroughly confused and considerably aroused, could only watch in shock as John gently let her go before leaping into the fray like a man possessed, ripping through the remaining thugs like a savage beast.

His eyes were glowing red, and for the first time, he didn't care if any of them made it out alive.

They were all adults—dumber than fourth graders, but adults nonetheless.

In less than a second, he appeared right in the face of one of the armed gangsters, and before he could press the trigger, John grabbed his hand and simply pressed.

"Aargh! No! Stop! Stooop!" He howled, watching in horror as his fingers were crushed and pressed into a pulp, blood leaking out of the now-visible bones.

John showed him mercy with his fist of love colliding with the man's ugly face, breaking teeth and bones, shattering his jaw as he was sent flying to what was most likely his death.

Or at least the end of his life as an able-bodied man.

"Who's next?" John asked calmly.

His answer was a hail of bullets, but this time he needed not concern himself with a vulnerable charge, Copperhead had enough sense to get out of the day so he could disappear without worrying about her safety.

"Is—is he gone?" One of them asked, not caring about their disastrously failed task or the mangled body of what was once his best friend since childhood, as long as he could get out of this hell alive, everything was acceptable.

"Above!" Another said and started shooting, but unfortunately, it was too late.

The last thing he saw was a boot getting dangerously close to his face, and then all went dark.

John tore into them with ferocity, using the chaos to his advantage. The gangsters' shots went wild, missing him entirely or grazing his already healing flesh. He didn't bother giving any of them the Kiss, but he did drain a few as their blood spilled out, absorbing it into himself with his newfound abilities.

Blood manipulation probably had better uses than a simple magnet guiding the spilled blood to his ever-so-thirsty throat while he ripped grown men to shreds, but he could figure it out later.

He didn't practice or train to use it even at such a low level, instinct alone was enough to guide him and let him learn how to move foreign blood and consume it without biting, using it to replenish his nearly full reserves and heal the rare wounds he sustained without cost.

Copperhead was hiding behind the car, she wanted to move, to crawl away, but every time she glanced at the man—no, the monster, her mind was pounded with confusion.

Who was he? What was he? And why was he protecting her? What did he do to her? How was he doing all this? Why did it feel so absurdly good?

As the last thug fell to a fist in the throat, gurgling his final breath, John turned to Copperhead. She was still on the ground, her body twisted at an impossible angle, trying to decide if she should flee or strike again, even though it seemed like madness after seeing what he could do. But the decision was made for her when police sirens wailed in the distance.

"Time to go," John said, grabbing Copperhead by the arm just as she attempted to slither away. He dragged her to the back of the SUV, throwing her inside before climbing in after her. Reginald didn't wait for any further instructions, flooring the gas and tearing through the night.

Copperhead's mind was racing, thoughts crashing into each other like waves in a storm. Why had he saved her? What was his angle? Is he going to do...it again?

Did she mind doing it again?

As if reading her mind, John chuckled.

"Looks like you've been double-crossed." His grin was wide, almost boyish, as if his back wasn't still full of holes from the bullets he'd taken to protect her, his clothes ruined and reeking of copper and lead.

She stared at him, eyes narrowed in suspicion. No one had ever done that for her. Ever. She'd been born and raised in the cartel, where everyone and everything was out to get her. She became an assassin to escape poverty, rape, or the misery of being a drug mule like her mother, who died when the package in her stomach broke and OD'd her.

She was good at it too, only failing a handful of times during nearly two decades of murder.

But the man she was supposed to kill had just saved her life.

"Why?" she demanded, her voice low and dangerous, but tinged with something else—confusion, curiosity, and the lingering fear in her heart she couldn't kill.

John looked at her, those slitted red eyes twinkling with mischief. "Because I wanted to," he said, matter-of-factly. Then he leaned in closer, his grin turning into something darker, more predatory. "And you still didn't answer me—can I keep you?"

He was insane. And so was his driver, judging by the cackle that echoed from the front seat.

"You really should, as far as bosses go, he's pretty awesome...if you don't mind the whole busting-skulls thing." The middle-aged man said and she listened intently, determined to gather as much intel as possible before...before what?

There was nothing left for her.

'Except…' Her gaze turned to the young man sitting beside her, his eyes closed as he leaned back, full of openings she could use to attack.

But something in Copperhead's chest tightened, something she hadn't felt in a long time. A strange, unfamiliar feeling—vulnerability, perhaps? Trust? Madness? Whatever it was, it was unsettling.

She didn't know how to respond, so she didn't. Instead, she mimicked him and leaned back against the seat, her mind still racing, as the SUV sped through Gotham's shadowy streets.

She was alive, and for now, that was enough.