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## Chapter 52: The Genius in Dire Straits
"Success! Let's move! Charge in!"
Tony roared, controlling the smaller Arcee to charge in first, instantly killing several members of the Ghoul Tribe who were still bewildered and unaware. Even though Arcee was the smallest, her strength was astonishing, and these ordinary Ghoul Tribe members were as fragile as lambs before her.
Blade grinned ferociously, rushing in with a gun in one hand and a blade in the other. His speed was astonishing, far exceeding that of ordinary humans. The Old Bartender brought up the rear, cautiously scanning his surroundings, his eyes also glinting with undisguised excitement and glee.
All three bore a grudge against the Vampire Faction, and against Deacon. This was the perfect opportunity for revenge!
"Damn it, what's going on?!"
"Enemies have invaded, quickly grab your weapons!"
The remaining Ghoul Tribe members and Vampires who had luckily avoided direct ultraviolet exposure screamed in terror, frantically searching for weapons. Some, more cowardly and afraid of death, simply found a secluded corner and lay down, feigning death.
Many were confused. They had been drinking and dancing just a moment ago, when suddenly, countless ultraviolet rays appeared from all parts of the club, causing many Vampires to perish instantly and inexplicably. Someone had invaded, a powerful enemy had invaded. Only a few formidable foes would dare to be so ruthless against Deacon's club.
One Vampire, driven to madness, sounded the alarm and grabbed a weapon, sweeping it wildly. Many Ghoul Tribe members were accidentally wounded by him.
Arcee transformed into two machine guns, firing wildly, like a War Machine. Many minor enemies were gunned down, turning the club into a slaughterhouse.
"Who is it?! Could it be the Daywalker? How did he find this place?!"
"And the Mechanic! These two scourges have joined forces!"
The survivors fell into chaos, not even daring to think of resistance. The most elite Vampire troops had been completely wiped out by the UV grenades earlier, leaving only a bunch of useless stragglers. A few secretly hid in the chaos, while others planned to find an exit and escape.
No one chose to surrender; these two recently famous figures never accepted the surrender of the Vampire Faction.
Blade cut a path through the enemies, with no opponent able to withstand a single blow. The gun and blade were wielded with masterful skill in his hands. He yanked up a Ghoul Tribe member who was pretending to be dead, baring his fangs. "Fancy meeting you again. I haven't had a chance to thank you for leading the way. Tell me, where is Deacon?"
The Ghoul Tribe member opened his eyes and nearly fainted. Not long ago, Blade had hunted him down, catching and releasing him multiple times, treating him like a toy, leaving him with immense psychological trauma.
Blade savagely slashed the Ghoul Tribe member's face, letting the blood flow freely. Blade threatened, "If you don't speak, I'll kill you now and find him myself. If you speak, I'll go kill Deacon and let you go."
The Ghoul Tribe member nodded repeatedly, trembling as he crawled to the refrigerator, fumbled with it, and opened the door, revealing a hidden passage behind it. He cried, "Deacon is inside, please let me go, I'll never dare to oppose you again!"
At that moment, the Old Bartender fired, killing the Ghoul Tribe member.
"He said he'd let you go, I never said that." The Old Bartender was merciless.
Blade glanced at the Old Bartender in surprise, then shrugged indifferently, finding that the Old Bartender was somewhat similar to his old partner in certain ways. He turned to call Tony to join him in killing Deacon.
He called once, but Tony didn't answer. He called twice, still no response.
Tony was circling around, unceremoniously stuffing valuable-looking items into his own pockets. As he packed, he grumbled, "Why is it so poor? Don't they know to display some antiques or calligraphy and paintings here? Such low taste!"
Behind him, several Small Transformers each held a bag they'd found from who-knows-where, and some were swaggering at the trembling Ghoul Tribe members, roughly yanking off their watches and necklaces and happily putting them into their own bags.
Even the Old Bartender couldn't stand it. He grabbed Tony, pulling him along, saying, "I just realized today, why are you so greedy for money? Have you gone completely mad from poverty?" As he spoke, he unceremoniously pocketed a bottle of good wine.
Tony was in a bad mood, unable to find anything valuable. "You've been eating and drinking my stuff for so long. Do you think my money just comes from nowhere? I finally got a job killing Vampires; aren't I allowed to earn a little?"
Both the Old Bartender and Blade were speechless simultaneously. Killing Vampires as a job, well, perhaps that wasn't entirely wrong.
After clearing out the last few blocking enemies, the three swiftly descended the secret passage. Their hearing was exceptional, and they had already heard sounds echoing from below as they went down the stairs.
Tony, clad in his armor, charged at the very front, resisting the incoming gunfire and rushing directly into the crowd. In a swift motion, two silver daggers appeared in his hands, forged from silver bullets, specifically for situations like this.
"This monster!"
These Vampires were Deacon's elite followers, fearless in death. Seeing that firearms were useless, they threw their guns aside and engaged Tony in close combat. Although Tony had learned some martial arts, he was far inferior to these battle-hardened Vampires and was somewhat in a predicament for a time.
Blade seized a gap in Tony's movements, firing several shots. The silver bullets caused the Vampires to instantly ignite and turn to ash.
"Your close combat skills are truly terrible!" Blade teased.
The large screen in the basement suddenly lit up, and Deacon's face appeared on it.
Clap, clap!
He clapped his hands, watching Tony and the other two slaughtering, his expression as if he were watching slaves fighting for their master's amusement in a Roman gladiatorial arena.
"Deacon..."
Blade stared at the large screen, gritting his teeth, a light of hatred shining through his sunglasses.
Deacon was sitting in a helicopter. He had flown to the pre-prepared Altar in the suburbs at the first possible moment, making it impossible for Tony and the others to catch him. He held a laptop, watching Tony and the other two like dogs chasing their tails, almost bursting into laughter.
"You are unexpectedly foolish. I deliberately lured you here to prevent you from disrupting my plans. I didn't expect it to be so smooth."
Deacon said, picking up a glass of wine and taking a sip. His disheveled hair and wrinkled clothes made him seem even more like a madman.
"What exactly have you done?" Tony frowned. Although he had seen the Blade movie plot, that didn't mean he could grasp all the dynamics through the film. Deacon must have done something recently, using himself as bait to attract Tony and Blade.
Deacon laughed, somewhat crazed, somewhat triumphant.
"The Altar is ready, and the twelve required sacrifices are prepared! If you want to stop me, come find me in the Gold Beach District in southern Atlantic City. All of you must come; I look forward to it. Don't think about chasing me immediately; there's an extraordinary person next to you who needs saving. Kill me, or save him? How will you choose?"
Amidst bursts of mad laughter, the screen went dark, and Tony and the others lost their prime opportunity to kill him. Tony sighed inwardly, Deacon had used this time to capture twelve noble Vampires of different bloodlines. With the Daywalker's blood, combined with the ancient stone tablet and the Altar, Deacon would be able to transform himself into a Blood God.
Tony looked around and finally pulled out a bleeding middle-aged man from a narrow, winding corner. The man was in a very bad state. His face was pale, and although the wound on his neck had reluctantly stopped bleeding, the virus had undoubtedly spread.
"I'm Tony Stark. Save me. Quickly inject the serum. If that's not possible, then kill me..."
The middle-aged man spoke these words with his last ounce of consciousness, then completely passed out. The rampant Vampire virus rapidly raised his body temperature; he had held on with sheer willpower until Tony and the others arrived.
"Tony Stark?! How could you be here?!"
Tony was greatly alarmed, truly feeling nervous and uneasy. Tony's appearance was terrible at this moment, completely different from his usual glamorous self seen in the media, which was why Tony hadn't recognized him immediately and hadn't even considered that possibility! But why was Tony Stark here?!
(end of chapter)
"Success! Let's move! Charge in!"
Tony roared, controlling the smaller Arcee to charge in first, instantly killing several members of the Ghoul Tribe who were still bewildered and unaware. Even though Arcee was the smallest, her strength was astonishing, and these ordinary Ghoul Tribe members were as fragile as lambs before her.
Blade grinned ferociously, rushing in with a gun in one hand and a blade in the other. His speed was astonishing, far exceeding that of ordinary humans. The Old Bartender brought up the rear, cautiously scanning his surroundings, his eyes also glinting with undisguised excitement and glee.
All three bore a grudge against the Vampire Faction, and against Deacon. This was the perfect opportunity for revenge!
"Damn it, what's going on?!"
"Enemies have invaded, quickly grab your weapons!"
The remaining Ghoul Tribe members and Vampires who had luckily avoided direct ultraviolet exposure screamed in terror, frantically searching for weapons. Some, more cowardly and afraid of death, simply found a secluded corner and lay down, feigning death.
Many were confused. They had been drinking and dancing just a moment ago, when suddenly, countless ultraviolet rays appeared from all parts of the club, causing many Vampires to perish instantly and inexplicably. Someone had invaded, a powerful enemy had invaded. Only a few formidable foes would dare to be so ruthless against Deacon's club.
One Vampire, driven to madness, sounded the alarm and grabbed a weapon, sweeping it wildly. Many Ghoul Tribe members were accidentally wounded by him.
Arcee transformed into two machine guns, firing wildly, like a War Machine. Many minor enemies were gunned down, turning the club into a slaughterhouse.
"Who is it?! Could it be the Daywalker? How did he find this place?!"
"And the Mechanic! These two scourges have joined forces!"
The survivors fell into chaos, not even daring to think of resistance. The most elite Vampire troops had been completely wiped out by the UV grenades earlier, leaving only a bunch of useless stragglers. A few secretly hid in the chaos, while others planned to find an exit and escape.
No one chose to surrender; these two recently famous figures never accepted the surrender of the Vampire Faction.
Blade cut a path through the enemies, with no opponent able to withstand a single blow. The gun and blade were wielded with masterful skill in his hands. He yanked up a Ghoul Tribe member who was pretending to be dead, baring his fangs. "Fancy meeting you again. I haven't had a chance to thank you for leading the way. Tell me, where is Deacon?"
The Ghoul Tribe member opened his eyes and nearly fainted. Not long ago, Blade had hunted him down, catching and releasing him multiple times, treating him like a toy, leaving him with immense psychological trauma.
Blade savagely slashed the Ghoul Tribe member's face, letting the blood flow freely. Blade threatened, "If you don't speak, I'll kill you now and find him myself. If you speak, I'll go kill Deacon and let you go."
The Ghoul Tribe member nodded repeatedly, trembling as he crawled to the refrigerator, fumbled with it, and opened the door, revealing a hidden passage behind it. He cried, "Deacon is inside, please let me go, I'll never dare to oppose you again!"
At that moment, the Old Bartender fired, killing the Ghoul Tribe member.
"He said he'd let you go, I never said that." The Old Bartender was merciless.
Blade glanced at the Old Bartender in surprise, then shrugged indifferently, finding that the Old Bartender was somewhat similar to his old partner in certain ways. He turned to call Tony to join him in killing Deacon.
He called once, but Tony didn't answer. He called twice, still no response.
Tony was circling around, unceremoniously stuffing valuable-looking items into his own pockets. As he packed, he grumbled, "Why is it so poor? Don't they know to display some antiques or calligraphy and paintings here? Such low taste!"
Behind him, several Small Transformers each held a bag they'd found from who-knows-where, and some were swaggering at the trembling Ghoul Tribe members, roughly yanking off their watches and necklaces and happily putting them into their own bags.
Even the Old Bartender couldn't stand it. He grabbed Tony, pulling him along, saying, "I just realized today, why are you so greedy for money? Have you gone completely mad from poverty?" As he spoke, he unceremoniously pocketed a bottle of good wine.
Tony was in a bad mood, unable to find anything valuable. "You've been eating and drinking my stuff for so long. Do you think my money just comes from nowhere? I finally got a job killing Vampires; aren't I allowed to earn a little?"
Both the Old Bartender and Blade were speechless simultaneously. Killing Vampires as a job, well, perhaps that wasn't entirely wrong.
After clearing out the last few blocking enemies, the three swiftly descended the secret passage. Their hearing was exceptional, and they had already heard sounds echoing from below as they went down the stairs.
Tony, clad in his armor, charged at the very front, resisting the incoming gunfire and rushing directly into the crowd. In a swift motion, two silver daggers appeared in his hands, forged from silver bullets, specifically for situations like this.
"This monster!"
These Vampires were Deacon's elite followers, fearless in death. Seeing that firearms were useless, they threw their guns aside and engaged Tony in close combat. Although Tony had learned some martial arts, he was far inferior to these battle-hardened Vampires and was somewhat in a predicament for a time.
Blade seized a gap in Tony's movements, firing several shots. The silver bullets caused the Vampires to instantly ignite and turn to ash.
"Your close combat skills are truly terrible!" Blade teased.
The large screen in the basement suddenly lit up, and Deacon's face appeared on it.
Clap, clap!
He clapped his hands, watching Tony and the other two slaughtering, his expression as if he were watching slaves fighting for their master's amusement in a Roman gladiatorial arena.
"Deacon..."
Blade stared at the large screen, gritting his teeth, a light of hatred shining through his sunglasses.
Deacon was sitting in a helicopter. He had flown to the pre-prepared Altar in the suburbs at the first possible moment, making it impossible for Tony and the others to catch him. He held a laptop, watching Tony and the other two like dogs chasing their tails, almost bursting into laughter.
"You are unexpectedly foolish. I deliberately lured you here to prevent you from disrupting my plans. I didn't expect it to be so smooth."
Deacon said, picking up a glass of wine and taking a sip. His disheveled hair and wrinkled clothes made him seem even more like a madman.
"What exactly have you done?" Tony frowned. Although he had seen the Blade movie plot, that didn't mean he could grasp all the dynamics through the film. Deacon must have done something recently, using himself as bait to attract Tony and Blade.
Deacon laughed, somewhat crazed, somewhat triumphant.
"The Altar is ready, and the twelve required sacrifices are prepared! If you want to stop me, come find me in the Gold Beach District in southern Atlantic City. All of you must come; I look forward to it. Don't think about chasing me immediately; there's an extraordinary person next to you who needs saving. Kill me, or save him? How will you choose?"
Amidst bursts of mad laughter, the screen went dark, and Tony and the others lost their prime opportunity to kill him. Tony sighed inwardly, Deacon had used this time to capture twelve noble Vampires of different bloodlines. With the Daywalker's blood, combined with the ancient stone tablet and the Altar, Deacon would be able to transform himself into a Blood God.
Tony looked around and finally pulled out a bleeding middle-aged man from a narrow, winding corner. The man was in a very bad state. His face was pale, and although the wound on his neck had reluctantly stopped bleeding, the virus had undoubtedly spread.
"I'm Tony Stark. Save me. Quickly inject the serum. If that's not possible, then kill me..."
The middle-aged man spoke these words with his last ounce of consciousness, then completely passed out. The rampant Vampire virus rapidly raised his body temperature; he had held on with sheer willpower until Tony and the others arrived.
"Tony Stark?! How could you be here?!"
Tony was greatly alarmed, truly feeling nervous and uneasy. Tony's appearance was terrible at this moment, completely different from his usual glamorous self seen in the media, which was why Tony hadn't recognized him immediately and hadn't even considered that possibility! But why was Tony Stark here?!
(end of chapter)
