Lucas crouched down beside the fat man's body and started searching him.
After a few seconds, he found a strange marking behind the man's ear—something that looked more like a symbol than a tattoo.
"This guy's a ghoul," Lucas muttered.
"Ghoul?" the others echoed, confused.
Lucas glanced up. "Yeah. Humans who want to become vampires. They work for them—guard their lairs, deliver victims, clean up their messes—hoping that one day their masters will 'reward' them by turning them. Basically… vampire groupies."
Frank's face twisted in disgust. "You're telling me there are people who choose to be like that? The world's gone to hell."
Matt's expression remained unreadable behind the red mask, but even he tilted his head slightly. Skye, however, looked utterly dumbfounded.
"There are actually people begging to turn into bloodsucking corpses? That's insane!" she said, staring at the tattoo with wide eyes.
Lucas continued, "There are more than you'd think. Ghouls are marked so vampires know which faction they belong to—sort of like gang tattoos, but for undead crime families."
Frank's lip curled. "Trash like this doesn't deserve to breathe."
Without another word, he drew his knife and slit the man's throat in one clean motion.
The ghoul didn't even blink before his life ended—his dream of becoming a vampire dying with him.
"I'll never understand why anyone would want to be one of them," Skye muttered, watching the lifeless body.
Lucas raised a brow. "You're really just gonna stare at a dead guy like it's nothing?"
Skye shrugged. "Why not? I've seen worse. Gangs stabbing each other to death in alleys, shootouts over drug turf… one dead body doesn't shock me."
Even Frank glanced her way, slightly impressed. The kid had grit—more than he expected.
Lucas sighed and gave a wry smile. "Guess that explains why you know Hell's Kitchen like the back of your hand."
"Of course," Skye said with a faint grin. "I used to run these streets for years."
Lucas could see a flicker of nostalgia in her eyes—oddly enough, she seemed to miss those rough old days.
"Alright," Matt said coldly, standing. "Let's move. This ghoul was no saint. Working for vampires earns you your ticket to hell."
Even though Matt's moral code usually forbade killing, he had learned to… bend the rules.
Vampires aren't human, he reasoned. So, killing them didn't count.
The team advanced through the hanging rows of frozen pork carcasses in the cold-storage warehouse. At the far end, behind a heavy steel door, they could hear it—thumping bass, the roar of a crowd, and the sharp grind of industrial metal.
"This is it," Frank said, cocking his shotgun and pushing the door open.
Dim red lights flickered through the smoky air. They could barely make out human silhouettes writhing in rhythm with the pounding music.
The four slipped in quietly.
Skye stayed close behind Lucas, her fists clenched. The faint shimmer of vibrating air flickered around her hands—her anxiety leaking through her powers.
"Easy," Lucas said, gently touching her wrist. "If you lose control, you'll level this whole place."
His calm voice steadied her, and the vibrations faded.
"Ladies and gentlemen!" a DJ shouted from the stage, his voice echoing over the crowd.
"Let's drink, let's feast, and let the night burn! ARE YOU READY?!"
The crowd howled in response.
Bodies pressed together, moving wildly, frenzied, animalistic. Some weren't even dancing anymore—they were devouring each other in lust.
Lucas grimaced. He'd seen chaos before, but this kind of depravity still made his skin crawl.
He was, after all, a man raised on more modest values.
Skye's face flushed with embarrassment. She quickly looked away.
Then, suddenly—
With a loud hiss, the sprinkler system came on.
A rain of crimson liquid poured from above. The metallic stench of blood filled the air.
"ROOOAAAR!!!"
All around them, the dancers began to convulse and snarl, their faces contorting as fangs erupted from their gums. They lifted their heads in ecstasy, bathing themselves in the scarlet rain.
Matt flinched, his heightened senses overwhelmed by the reek of iron and death.
The smell burned his nose and throat.
"This… this is blood," Skye gasped, staring at her blood-soaked hands.
She gagged, bile rising in her throat.
Lucas's voice was grim. "Human blood."
Matt's tone turned icy. "To get this much… they must have slaughtered hundreds."
"Human!" a voice suddenly hissed.
One vampire in the crowd sniffed the air and spun toward them. "There are humans here!"
The entire club froze.
Even the DJ stopped the music.
Frank didn't hesitate. "Move!" he barked, and pulled the trigger.
BOOM!
The silver-infused slug tore through the vampire's chest, and the creature ignited, turning to ash mid-scream.
The silence shattered.
A horde of vampires shrieked and lunged at them, claws flashing like knives.
Lucas summoned his weapon in an instant—his magic-forged blade erupting with radiant light.
The sword slashed through three vampires in a single swing, and the trailing wave of energy exploded behind them, taking down several more.
"Wind Rend!" Lucas shouted.
A burst of green talons spun forward like a cyclone, ripping through everything within a meter. Blood splattered the walls as shredded bodies fell like paper dolls.
Unlike Frank's silver rounds, Lucas's arcane energy didn't make vampires burn—it tore them apart in the most brutal, physical way imaginable.
BOOM!
Several vampires suddenly exploded from within, showering the floor in gore.
At the center stood Skye, her hands glowing with pulsing rings of energy. The very air around her shimmered as invisible shockwaves distorted reality.
Frank let out a low whistle. "Damn. That's one hell of a punch, kid."
He pumped another shell into his shotgun and kept firing—each silver bullet a death sentence.
Matt moved like a phantom, weaving through the chaos. Every time he passed an enemy, his baton's hidden blade flashed, slicing clean through bone and flesh.
The four of them cut through the vampire crowd like a scythe through wheat.
None of the bloodsuckers even came close to stopping them.
Hell's Kitchen had seen its share of violence before—
but tonight, it belonged to the hunters.
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