The entire day passed in a blur of excitement for Skye.
She had spent every waking hour glued to her screen, digging through every article and archive she could find about vampires—even going as far as reading dusty old research papers. She was determined to know everything there was to know.
The answers she found were, of course, predictable: sunlight, garlic, crosses, holy water—every cliché that ever existed.
But in reality, things weren't that simple.
Garlic could inhibit a vampire's healing and the flow of the virus in their blood, acting more like a slow-acting poison—but it took a lot of it to work.
Then came silver and sunlight—or, more precisely, pure silver and ultraviolet light.
Both burned vampire flesh, though sunlight was far more lethal.
While the two were chatting, Matt called.
He told them to meet at the safehouse.
Lucas immediately grabbed Skye, and the two headed out.
Thanks to weeks of training, Skye's control over her shockwave powers had become much more refined. She could now manage her energy output without harming herself—though she still couldn't risk using her full strength.
Lucas, on the other hand, had his own headache to deal with—vibranium.
No matter what he tried, he couldn't find anyone with access to it. The Wakandan defector he'd heard of had vanished completely, slippery as an eel.
He sighed. If all else failed, he'd have to ask Tony for help. If anyone had the right connections, it was him.
It didn't take long before they arrived in Hell's Kitchen.
Skye, unsurprisingly, knew the area well—she used to steal here all the time and was on friendly terms with quite a few street punks.
Inside the safehouse, Matt and Frank were already waiting.
Matt sat quietly with his head slightly tilted, listening to the room's subtle vibrations.
Frank, on the other hand, was methodically cleaning a rifle.
The entire place looked like an armory—guns, grenades, knives, even a shoulder-fired missile launcher.
Skye froze in place the moment she walked in.
Is this guy a terrorist or something?
The firepower here was enough to start a small war.
"You brought a kid?" Frank's gravelly voice broke the silence.
"Skye," Lucas replied calmly. "My assistant. She's gifted—with powers. Trust me, she'll be useful."
He pointed to the others. "That's the Punisher, and the other is Daredevil."
Skye's jaw practically hit the floor.
The Punisher and Daredevil—two living legends in Hell's Kitchen, the names every thug whispered about.
Especially Frank—the man was a walking apocalypse. Wherever he went, bodies piled up and nothing was left intact.
"You know them?!" she gasped. "Wait—they're helping us?"
Frank's lip twitched.
"You've got that backwards, kid. You two are helping us."
Daredevil retracted his batons, his crimson suit fading into the darkness like blood into water.
"Whoa, that's so cool!" Skye squealed, reaching out to touch his armor just to see what it was made of. How could something that red blend into the night like that?
"Show me what you can do," Frank said, voice low and cold. "Vampires aren't your average thugs. I need to know you can at least keep yourself alive."
"Oh! Sure thing."
Skye walked right up to him and poked the pistol in his hand with one finger.
The moment her fingertip made contact, a silent shockwave rippled out.
The gun instantly shattered into fragments, scattering across the floor.
"…"
Frank's expression didn't change, but the vein in his temple twitched.
That was my gun.
He stared at her flatly. "Five hundred bucks."
"What?! For that little thing? You rob people for a living?" Skye protested, eyes wide.
Frank didn't bother explaining. He simply held out his hand toward Lucas.
Lucas sighed. "I'll transfer it later, alright? Stop looking at me like that—you're terrifying."
Frank's dead-eyed stare didn't waver. Cold. Lifeless. Exactly like the man himself.
"Time's up," Matt said, running his fingers across the small tactile clock beside him—a model made for the blind.
Frank packed up his gear and slung a duffel bag over his shoulder.
The other three traveled light; there wasn't much for them to prepare.
The team slipped quietly through the streets and arrived at the location the vampire had mentioned.
The place was eerily silent. Nothing about it screamed "nightclub."
"Are you sure this is the right address?" Skye frowned, pointing at a sign. "It literally says Frozen Meat Storage. What kind of nightclub is that? A rave for cold cuts?"
Lucas took one look and immediately recognized it—from Blade.
This was the club—the one that opened the first movie.
"It's right," he said. "The dying vamp gave this address."
Frank nodded. "He didn't lie. Nobody survives my interrogations."
"Definitely the place," Matt murmured, tilting his head. "I can hear the music—it's loud and horrible."
"Then let's check it out," Frank growled, loading his weapon and stepping forward.
"Wait, you're just gonna barge in like that?" Skye whispered, horrified.
"Shouldn't we, I don't know, sneak in or something?"
"We're not vampires," Frank replied flatly. "They'll smell us the second we walk in. Only way's through."
"Not necessarily," Skye countered, grinning. "If the club's full of vampires and we're human, doesn't that make us walking snacks? What kind of vampire refuses free food?"
Lucas laughed. "She's got a point."
Just then, a convertible pulled up outside the warehouse.
A man and a woman stepped out—the exact pair from Blade's opening scene: the female vampire and her unlucky human date.
"Wait till they're inside," Matt said quietly. "Then we move."
Moments later, the two greeted the burly doorman and disappeared inside.
Lucas and the others moved in immediately.
"Who the hell are—"
The guard didn't finish. Matt struck first, a precise jab that paralyzed the man's throat.
Before the poor guy could even gasp, Frank's knife plunged into his thigh.
Blood poured freely.
"He's human," Frank muttered, frowning.
"Human?" Lucas echoed, eyes narrowing. "A human guard… working for vampires."
The four of them exchanged looks.
Whatever was waiting inside this "club" just got a lot more interesting.
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