...'Is this kid out of his mind?'
Watching young Broly trade blows with his double, Dracula felt his eyes opened today.
He had never seen a fighter this ferocious—especially one who looked no older than four or five.
Though he'd been beaten black-and-blue earlier, a genuine admiration now sprouted in Dracula's heart.
Maybe I shouldn't kill him; maybe I should turn him into a Vampire instead.
While he day-dreamed, the estate's rose beds were instantly ground to dust beneath two colliding green auras.
Long before that, the Council's granite castle-keep had already collapsed into rubble only moments after Broly and the clone began fighting.
Mere shockwaves from the duel slaughtered the Vampire Elders who'd remained cowering on the ground.
Guards posted outside tried to raise their guns and fire at the child and his copy.
But before they could pull the triggers, Dracula personally snapped their necks.
The Vampire progenitor was enjoying the show and would allow no one to spoil it.
'Yes! That's it—finish him!'
Ignoring the stabs of pain inside his own body, the enthralled Dracula punched the air and yelled like a rabid fan.
He wasn't even sure whether he was cheering for Broly or for the clone.
With a roar the boy slammed the duplicate into a white-stone fountain, shattering its fallen-Angel statue along the clone's spine.
The next instant the copy hurled him skull-first into an iron colonnade.
Metal buckled, shards burst outward, shearing through a whole wall of climbing roses.
They grappled and rolled, smashing straight through the greenhouse glass.
Seizing Broly's ankle again, the clone whipped the child like a pile-driver, pounding him against the floor.
After several thunderous booms they crashed through into the wine cellar.
Trading punch for kick, they shattered barrel after barrel; crimson wine rained down, drenching the earthen floor.
'Give it up, kid! That copy matches your strength and speed; a brawler can't beat himself!'
Dracula called down, relishing every second.
Broly's answer was a snarled, defiant 'Never!'
The boy hurled himself at the clone once more, their moves now perfectly mirrored.
In fact, thanks to Dracula's own techniques woven in, the copy held a slight edge.
Their fists met in another dead-even clash; before Broly could swing again, the clone opened its mouth: ▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇
Silently a Qi blast shot from the clone's mouth straight into Broly's face.
Instinctively the boy tried to dodge, but the copy's hands locked round his wrists.
'Aaaargh—!'
For the first time Broly was truly hurt by the sustained point-blank blast.
'Quit, child. Accept me as your father and let me raise you to noble vampirism—together we'll rule the entire Earth!'
Like a street-corner preacher Dracula tried to brainwash him; whether it worked or not, he talked big.
But the moment he offered to play daddy, Broly literally exploded.
In the literal sense.
A green aura burst like poison-ivy; his roar shattered the cellar, toppling the last standing walls of the Vampire council's estate.
A super-typhoon seemed to strike: nearby woods snapped as if they were twigs.
Even Manhattan across the Hudson felt the quake, waves taller than a man slamming the banks.
The boy's metre-and-a-half frame corded with steel-like muscle; the ground around him cracked into a spider-web.
His green hair stood bolt upright, tips glinting gold; his pupils blazed white, his face turned ice-cold—Broly had transformed into Super Saiyan 1 for the first time in this Universe.
A fifty-fold power surge put the fight back under his control.
With a single roar he dispersed the Qi blast.
He twisted his wrists outward; two crisp snaps rang out as the copy's arms snapped like kindling.
'Scum stays scum!'
Ignoring its howls, Broly lifted the clone overhead and gazed down at a sweating Dracula.
'You thought some knock-off could beat me?'
'And you wanted to be my dad?'
'Weak little Vampire—I'll wipe every last one of you OUT—'
With that bellow two Ki spheres shot from his palms into the clone's body.
First the arms, then the shoulders, then the chest—the duplicate's flesh bulged as the spheres travelled.
When they met and compressed to the limit, they detonated, vaporising the copy so completely not a single cell remained.
Dracula gulped, then realised he had to act.
Debts to Chthon, threats from the Ancient One—all forgotten; the child overhead terrified him now.
Even knowing he could revive endlessly in the Marvel Universe, he feared death.
Because that endless revival had a catch.
The 'me' of today is not the 'me' of yesterday.
Even with memories intact, was the resurrected self truly the same person?
After dying countless times Dracula knew the answer was no.
Unless absolutely necessary, he did not want to die again.
So he tried to—
With a soft 'shhk' Dracula's fingers, already weaving a spell, were severed at the root.
Young Koz, invisible until that instant, had slipped beside him and struck from stealth.
'How did I forget him?'
The thought flickered through Dracula's mind, but before he could finish it a 'comet' blazed across the night sky.
A fist the size of a bucket crashed down, obliterating the Vampire progenitor's head and torso, blasting them to pulp and carving a huge crater into the ground.
Li Pu had crossed half the Earth—and arrived.