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Common knowledge—
When a human transforms into a vampire, they need to drink blood. Only by consuming blood during the transition period can they become a true vampire.
But drinking blood is blood.
And a transfusion is also blood.
More importantly, it's intravenous. Just like the difference between taking pills and getting an IV drip—the efficiency isn't even comparable.
So—
"Holy shit!"
Gwen followed Hawk's strange expression down to the blood bag and immediately understood. She let out a startled cry, ripped the IV line out, and threw the half-empty blood bag onto the floor like it was a live grenade.
But it was already too late.
At this very moment, thanks to the intravenous transfusion, George was racing toward full vampire transformation at breakneck speed.
Helen, who had just seen the doctor out and turned around to witness Gwen yanking the blood bag from her father's arm, completely froze.
"Gwen!"
"Mom..."
Gwen looked at Helen—whose mouth was twitching as she walked toward them—and quickly said, "Wait, Mom, this isn't what it looks like."
Helen glanced at the blood bag now lying on the floor, then at Gwen's panicked expression. She took a deep breath.
"You'd better have a damn good explanation, young lady."
"..."
Hawk, standing off to the side, heard Helen's words and felt his mouth twitch slightly. But he didn't dare speak.
Even though Gwen was twenty years old and way past the point where "young lady" applied—
In a mother's eyes, her daughter was always a little girl. No matter how old she got.
And more importantly—
Helen was genuinely angry.
Hawk watched as his fiancée looked over at him, her eyes pleading for help. He responded with a look that clearly said, Sorry, can't help you with this one.
This was one mess he couldn't fix.
If he opened his mouth, Helen would tear into him too.
Not joking.
So, Hawk stayed silent.
But George didn't.
The moment Gwen ripped out the blood bag and threw it on the floor, George—sitting upright in the hospital bed—felt something change. Deep in his pupils, tiny threads of crimson appeared. His gaze locked onto the blood bag as it hit the floor and began to leak.
A strange, uncontrollable craving surged through him.
A voice in his head began to scream.
"Drink it!"
"Drink the blood!"
"Drain every drop!"
George only zoned out for a few seconds. Then, drawing on the iron self-control he'd developed from decades in the NYPD—where he'd never once been corrupted—he reined himself in.
But it was obvious.
Something was wrong with him.
Thinking back to the case he'd been secretly investigating, and the way Hawk had just asked him point-blank about vampires, a terrible thought formed in his mind.
So, George snapped back to reality and looked at his stern-faced wife. "Helen, I asked Gwen to pull it out. Could you go check on Mahoney and the others in the surgical wing?"
Helen frowned deeply at George.
"George..."
"I'm fine. Go."
George cut her off with a reassuring smile.
Helen paused, then glanced at Gwen—who had already wrapped her arms around George's arm the moment her mother wasn't looking. Helen shook her head with a mixture of exasperation and amusement, then looked back at George. "You spoil her."
Hawk kept his mouth shut.
But Helen didn't let him off that easy.
Before leaving, she shot Hawk a reproachful look too.
"And you. You both spoil her."
"..."
Hawk watched Helen's retreating figure, blinked, then turned to Gwen. "How is this my fault? I didn't even say anything."
Gwen smiled sweetly at him.
"You don't spoil me?"
"What do you think?" Hawk looked at Gwen with an expression that was equal parts indulgent and helpless.
Gwen's smile grew even brighter.
George, sitting in the hospital bed and watching the two of them gaze adoringly at each other, felt his face darken. He coughed twice, loudly.
Gwen snapped out of it and turned to George with concern.
"Dad."
"What's wrong with me?" George looked up at Hawk.
Hawk said nothing. He just looked at Gwen.
George caught on. He also turned to Gwen.
"What's wrong with me?"
"Dad..."
"You're being... transformed."
"Into what?"
"A... a vampire."
Gwen spoke carefully, watching George's reaction closely.
She could now see the threads of crimson deep in George's eyes. They'd already begun to surface the moment the transfusion stopped.
George listened to Gwen's words and instinctively wanted to deny it.
But—
He looked at Gwen's expression. Then at Hawk's face. And he fell silent.
After a long pause, George took a deep breath.
"So vampires really do exist."
"Dad!"
Gwen heard George's murmur and immediately looked at him with concern, trying to comfort him. "Actually, being a vampire isn't so bad. Caroline's a vampire."
George turned to look at Gwen.
"Caroline?"
"Yeah. My cousin. The one from Forks."
"I know who she is."
George nodded, Caroline's image surfacing in his mind. "She's a vampire too?"
Gwen nodded. "Yes. I only found out when Hawk and I went back to Forks this time."
At that, Gwen seemed to remember something.
"Oh, Dad—when did you drink vampire blood?"
"What?"
"Vampire blood."
Gwen quickly and directly explained to George how humans became vampires, then looked at him. "So, Dad, which vampire made you drink their blood?"
George didn't answer. Instead, he looked at Gwen with an odd expression.
Gwen blinked under his gaze.
"Dad?"
"Gwen, you're not a vampire, are you?"
"Of course not."
"What about Hawk..."
George instinctively looked at Hawk, who was standing off to the side.
Hawk smiled.
"Nope."
"Good."
George let out a breath of relief, then looked at Gwen—whose face was tight with worry—and smiled gently. "Being human is good. Having children, raising a family. That's what life is about, Gwen."
Gwen nodded. "I know, Dad. I was just telling Mom earlier—I want a daughter and two sons. A happy family together."
George smiled and nodded in approval.
Hawk, meanwhile, looked at George thoughtfully.
George took another deep breath and looked at Hawk. "So if I don't drink blood in the next twenty-four hours, I'll die. Right?"
Gwen's eyes went wide.
"Dad?"
"Theoretically, yes. But not in your case."
"What do you mean?"
"You already drank."
Hawk's gaze fell on the IV tube still attached to George's arm. "Obviously, whoever's pulling the strings didn't plan on giving you a choice. They wanted you to become a vampire."
After all, George never had a choice.
Other newborn vampires at least got a twenty-four-hour cooling-off period. George didn't. The moment he woke up, he was already being transfused—and the decision was made for him.
"Do you remember what happened during the shooting?"
"...I remember now."
George was silent for a moment. "I set up a meeting with BU at 9:30 AM in the parking garage. But he never showed. I know him—he's punctual. I had a bad feeling. Sure enough, just as I was about to leave, someone ambushed me."
For some reason, his mind was unusually sharp right now.
As he recalled the events, it almost felt like he was reliving them.
He'd waited past the agreed time, and when BU didn't show, he'd been about to leave. That's when the first shot rang out. Someone appeared out of nowhere and shot him in the abdomen.
The sudden pain made him double over instinctively.
Then came the second shot.
That one went straight through his shoulder. He could hear the bone shatter—crisp and clear. But the impact also made him stumble sideways, which saved him from the third shot aimed at his neck.
Even so, he'd staggered backward and slammed into a parked car. With his other hand, he'd drawn his service weapon and returned fire.
"He didn't dodge."
"All three of my shots hit him."
"But..."
"It didn't even faze him."
"Then the patrol officers heard the gunfire and came running."
"He moved like a ghost. Vanished instantly."
"I tried to warn them. But he reappeared behind the two patrol officers and took them out. Clean. Efficient."
"By then, I was already losing consciousness."
"That's when I felt something enter my mouth. I was barely aware at the time."
"But now?"
"The taste was metallic. Looking back, it must have been his blood."
"He's a vampire, isn't he?"
George recounted the now crystal-clear memory while looking at Hawk.
Hawk shrugged.
"Probably."
"Wait, that doesn't make sense."
Gwen frowned at Hawk.
"The shooter was already caught. He killed himself."
"Fall guy." Hawk let out a dry laugh, looking at George in the hospital bed. "Just like the scapegoat who turned himself in for the Blood Apocalypse case."
George met Hawk's gaze, paused for a moment, then smiled faintly.
"You found the files I had in my study safe?"
"Gwen entered the password."
"Hey..."
Gwen looked at her fiancé, who had just thrown her under the bus without a second thought. She threw up her hands in exasperation. "Really? You're just going to sell me out like that? You're my fiancé. Aren't you supposed to protect me?"
It was said in jest, of course.
Gwen wasn't actually upset. After rolling her eyes at Hawk, she turned to George. "Dad, who's BU? Hawk and I spent all day trying to figure it out."
George smiled and looked at Gwen.
"You know him."
"I do?"
Gwen blinked, her mind racing, then looked back at George.
"Who?"
"Ben Urich."
George spoke the name, then, seeing Gwen's still-confused expression, added, "My mentor."
Gwen blinked. After a moment, an image surfaced in her mind—a scruffy middle-aged man who liked wearing a cowboy hat.
The next second—
Gwen remembered.
"Uncle Ben? Your first partner?"
"Yes."
George nodded.
BU.
B for Ben.
U for Urich.
Ben Urich was ten years older than George. Sixty-two now. He'd been George's mentor when George first joined the NYPD, and his first partner.
Gwen frowned again, confused. "But didn't Uncle Ben retire?"
George let out a short laugh.
"He did retire. But he's not done yet. He's a journalist now. After the reporter case broke, he reached out to me. Warned me not to dig too deep. Said it was dangerous. I didn't listen. Kept pressing him about what kind of danger."
"It wasn't until last night that Ben called me. Asked if I was still investigating Blood Apocalypse on my own. Told me to stop. Said if I kept going, there'd be consequences."
"But who am I?"
George let out a dry laugh. "You want me to stop investigating? Fine. Fire me as Police Captain. But as long as I'm wearing this badge, I don't compromise with criminals."
When he said that, George's voice was full of conviction.
Sure, he'd bend on the small stuff. Like the family courtesy cards at the precinct.
But on the big things—especially when it came to criminals—he'd never wavered.
"I told Ben straight up: if someone sent him to talk me down, he could hang up right then and never call me again."
"Ben then he asked me if I believed in vampires."
After that, Ben Urich had told George the truth. Blood Apocalypse was indeed a cult—but not an ordinary one. It was a subsidiary organization under a vampire network operating in New York City.
Blood Apocalypse's main job was to recruit young, attractive women. Especially out-of-towners who'd come to New York chasing their dreams. They'd lure them in, turn them into playthings and blood bags for the city's vampires.
For vampires, the blood of eighteen- and nineteen-year-old girls was a rare delicacy.
Ben also told George that he knew all this because he'd investigated the organization himself before he retired.
That was why Ben understood them. And over the years, he'd continued investigating in secret. Eventually, he'd discovered something chilling.
There were human servants—thralls—who worshiped vampires. And some of them were inside the NYPD.
Thralls were human, but they served vampires. Their greatest wish? To be turned into vampires themselves.
Hawk and Gwen knew how vampire conversion actually worked. But for most people in the world, they had no idea. Many still believed the myth that one bite from a vampire would turn you.
But, once again... Vampires weren't zombies. A zombie bite turned you into a zombie. A vampire bite? Most likely, you'd just be drained dry and left as a corpse.
Anyway—
After Ben retired and became a senior journalist, he used that as cover to move around New York without drawing suspicion. He'd even managed to interview a vampire and become friends with him.
But this vampire was one of the good ones—the kind who bought blood from blood banks instead of hunting people.
That was how Ben had learned that George—while officially closing the case—had been quietly requesting tax records for Blood Apocalypse through the courts and the IRS.
In America, only death and taxes are unavoidable.
Cults weren't exempt.
The only reason they operated legally was because they paid taxes. So George had been trying to get their tax records from the IRS.
And the moment George made his move, they knew.
Ben's vampire friend knew. And apparently, word had already spread through the vampire community that they were planning to deal with George—the same way they'd dealt with Maston, the reporter who'd photographed their gathering.
That's when Ben had contacted George.
But of course, George wasn't going to believe Ben's wild claims.
Vampires?
This was New York City, not Los Angeles. This was Broadway, not Hollywood.
George was stubborn.
Ben was desperate. To keep George from ending up like the reporter who'd been burned alive, Ben said he could prove it.
He had evidence that vampires were real.
Ben was far more careful and cautious than George. Seeing that George was hell-bent on pushing this case, Ben had no choice but to set up a meeting for the next morning.
He hoped that once George saw the proof, he'd believe him and drop the investigation.
After all—
They'd already provided the NYPD with a shooter.
The only reason they'd done that was because George had a spotless record and no dirt they could use against him. Otherwise, they wouldn't have bothered with a scapegoat—they'd have just forced George off the force.
Ben knew how these vampires operated. They'd been hiding beneath New York for who knows how long.
This shooter was the vampires' final olive branch to George.
If George didn't take it, God only knew what they'd do next.
But now it was clear.
"They turned you into a vampire."
"Now you're one of them. If you keep digging, they'll expose you before you can expose them."
Hawk picked up George's train of thought, then let out a dry laugh. "But if you accept it, they'll have a Police Captain vampire on their side. That'll make it even easier for them to stay hidden."
The plan was damn near perfect.
Kill two birds with one stone.
George looked at Hawk, who had just laid out the vampires' strategy, and spoke in a low voice.
"I won't let them..."
RING! RING!
Just as George was about to speak, the phone on the bedside table started ringing.
George's phone.
Gwen grabbed it, saw the caller ID—Ben—and handed it to George. "Dad, it's Uncle Ben."
George's eyes lit up. He reached out to take the phone from Gwen.
The next second—
CRACK.
The moment George took the phone from Gwen's hand, he accidentally squeezed too hard.
The phone shattered.
Gwen's mouth fell open.
Hawk raised an eyebrow.
George stared in disbelief at the pieces of his phone falling through his fingers.
At the same time, The heart monitor still connected to George's body let out a sharp, piercing alarm.
Hawk and Gwen looked at the monitor.
What they saw, A flat line.
Clear as day.
But George was still sitting upright in bed. And he looked very much alive.
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