Lord of Cinder in American Comics

"Excuse me, the only one, alive, its tongue, its source of intelligence, has just died at the hands of the great inventor Tony Stark! Stark, you owe me another one!"

Frank, who was also in the interrogation room, couldn't stand their bickering any longer.

"I might know someone who knows the intentions behind these vampires' actions, but his identity is somewhat special..."

Upon hearing this, Stark immediately dropped his equipment and rushed out of the observation room: "Then what are we waiting for? Let's get going!"

The control bureau's convoy surrounded a warehouse disguised as an abandoned warehouse.

The hidden cameras around the warehouse immediately noticed something was wrong, as a series of lock clicks came from inside the warehouse.

The hydraulic levers began to creak as two automatic turrets rose from a street-side trash can and aimed at the convoy.

Stark, who was about to open the door and get out of the car, saw this situation and decisively closed the door again.

'I also need to prepare a portable suit of armor for emergency use.'

The turrets on the Bradley tank also turned, aiming their cannons at the two threatening weapon platforms.

Frank jumped out of the car, walked to the warehouse door, pounded on the steel door twice, and then looked at the monitor on the door.

Frank pointed to his face and then to the convoy behind him, standing in front of the warehouse door, waiting for the people inside to make a decision.

Clang~

An observation window opened in the iron gate, and a double-barreled shotgun was pointed at Frank's head.

At the same time, ultraviolet rays swept across Frank's face.

Seeing no change whatsoever, a slightly aged face flashed past behind the observation window.

The man pressed himself against the side of the observation window, avoiding exposing his face, and his deep voice came through: "You're not one of those trash. What do you want?"

Of those present, only Frank could barely make out a wisp of gray hair and his eyes that gleamed in the darkness, and then there was the gun barrel that hadn't been moved.

“I’ve come to see Brooks. It’s very important.”

When Frank said the name, the old man behind the door finally felt relieved.

After a series of sounds of chains being dragged and locks being opened, the iron gate was finally opened.

However, the door was only opened halfway before it was blocked by an obstacle behind it.

Frank waved behind him, indicating that everything was done. Ash and Stark then got out of the car.

Just as everyone was about to go in, the old man stopped them, pointing to the combat troops outside and saying, "Only three can come in; the rest stay outside."

Stark instinctively wanted to object to the request, but the old man stopped him with a shotgun before he could finish speaking.

In the dim light, the old man finally spotted Stark in his suit and said with a hint of mockery, "I didn't expect to have such an important person here..."

The limping old man released the handle of the gate, letting Ash and the other two in before closing the iron gate again.

"You'll have to wait a bit, Brooks is resting."

Led by the old man, the group navigated through a maze of mechanical parts and finally arrived at a glass room.

On the bed in the center of the room lay a cool guy in black wearing sunglasses, looking like he was trying hard to endure something.

After arranging for everyone to sit down, the old man poured a glass of unidentified beverage and placed it next to Ash.

This differential treatment made Stark somewhat dissatisfied.

"Perhaps you should also pour Stark a glass of this... uh... liquid?"

Unexpectedly, the old man glanced at Stark with disdain and said, "If you can face those monsters in the dimensional invasion head-on, I might give you a drink."

Ash picked it up and took a bite; the strange, spicy sensation of garlic exploded in her mouth.

"Garlic juice?"

"It's garlic extract, garlic extract."

The old man finally put down his shotgun as he spoke.

At the entrance, Frank was examined with ultraviolet light, and Ash was tested with garlic extract here. As for Stark, such a big shot, if he is a vampire, then there is no hope for the entire Ame. Let's just destroy them.

He poured each of the three a glass of water again, and the old man sat next to the cool guy, waiting patiently.

Chapter 174: Blade the Vampire Hunter

Stark, unable to bear the silence, paced back and forth in the glass room, examining everything he could touch.

This commotion became unbearable for the old man, who pulled out a throwing knife from behind him and stabbed it into Stark's hand with a thud.

Stark recoiled as if electrocuted, then looked at the seated old man.

Walking up to the old man, Stark circled him once and said with a somewhat smug grin, "You haven't introduced yourself yet. Does Stark's reputation have no effect at all?"

The old man glanced at Stark and said, "Whistler." Then he closed his eyes again and stopped looking at Stark beside him.

"Is this a first name or a last name? Are you called Whistler Whistler? Wow, that's such an easy way to name someone!"

The old man opened his eyes, stared at Stark as if he wanted to devour him, and spat out a few words through gritted teeth: "Abraham Whistler!"

Stark, feigning surprise, covered his mouth and said, "My God, you're not called Whistler Whistler? You share the same name as Lincoln!"

Ash interrupted Stark's quip, saying, "Stark, Lincoln was the first vampire hunter. He led humanity to defeat those vampire plantation landowners in the South..."

Ash's explanation made Whistler raise his head proudly, looking at Stark with even more disdain.

Not long after, the cool guy lying on the bed finally woke up and immediately took out several syringes from a hidden compartment under the bed and injected them into his neck.

This addict-like behavior made Stark reluctant to leave.

After the injection, the cool guy finally noticed the other people in the room.

"Frank, I never expected to see you again!"

The dark-skinned, cool guy ignored everyone else in the room and busied himself loading weapons and ammunition onto his person and checking his firearms.

He drew a silver katana from its sheath, glanced at his reflection in the mirror, then sheathed the sword and slung it over his back.

"Brooks, we have something to ask you."

Eric Brooks, the infamous Blade, frequents places infested with vampires to clean up the blood-sucking trash.

In the comics, Blade is capable of taking down almost all non-human species, making him an exceptional fighter. He can even survive in a zombie universe.

However, in the movie, Blade's fighting ability was greatly reduced, and he was only used against vampires.

Frank had previously worked with Blade when Blade was a member of the rebuilt Howling Commandos and, through Dum Dum Dugan's introduction, served as a consultant to the military, teaching them how to fight vampires.

But Blade later left S.H.I.E.L.D., and although the director had the same skin as him, Blade's sensitive eyesight, hidden behind an eyepatch, always made him feel uncomfortable.

Blade ignored Frank, grabbed his weapon, and headed out.

"Perhaps we can talk about your anemia..."

Ash's words made Blade stop in his tracks, his eyes behind his sunglasses filled with curiosity and doubt.

Ash continued, “The presence of the people in the room has made your thirst for blood worse, hasn’t it? You need to use garlic extract immediately to suppress your symptoms and get out of here as soon as possible to avoid becoming unbearable. Am I right, Daywalker?”

Blade looked at Ash, wondering how he knew so much.

Whistler, on the other hand, re-examined the amount of garlic extract used by Blade and found that Blade had used much more than before.

Blade returned to the center of the room, pulled over a chair, sat down, and waited for Ash to continue.

"The special nature of a daywalker makes you immune to ultraviolet rays and garlic essence, which are fatal flaws to vampires, but you still need to drink blood to relieve the physiological cravings that vampires have. To be honest, the fact that you have been able to persist until now is enough to shock everyone who knows about it."

Ash hit the nail on the head, pointing out Blade's uniqueness and the problems he faced, while Stark became interested in Daywalker.

I just saw a vampire turned to ash by ultraviolet light in the interrogation room. Now that a special species is standing in front of me, it's a perfect research opportunity.

Stark reached for a syringe next to him, opened it, touched it to his hand, and smelled it under his nose. The pungent garlic smell made Stark pull his finger away.

Whistler couldn't hold back any longer. Blade was someone he had raised since childhood, both his master and his father.

"Whatever you need, we have it all to give you, as long as you can solve Brooks's problem."

Seeing Whistler's eagerness, Ash couldn't very well negotiate with a father, so he took out a beautifully decorated bottle of holy water and handed it to Whistler.

The crystal bottle is supported by a hollowed-out gold base, and a smoky glow surrounds the bottle, giving a sense of tranquility simply by holding it.

Ash pointed to the silent blade and said to Whistler, "This is a blessing from the goddess, from the holy water blessed by the Queen of Lothric. It can heal all injuries and remove all abnormal statuses. You can try it on him."

Whistler held the blade in his hand, looking at it, but didn't hand it over. They had only just met, and Whistler didn't fully trust Ash. What if Ash had come to kill Blade?

"Whistler, give it to me, I want to try..."

At Blade's request, Whistler, who was worried, handed over the bottle containing the blessed holy water to Blade.

Before drinking from Blade, Whistler reloaded his shotgun, ready to point it at Ash and his group at any moment. If Blade did anything wrong, Whistler would do everything in his power to keep everyone alive.

Blade, already tormented by his blood thirst, took the holy water bottle, uncorked it, and drank it all in one gulp.

After drinking the holy water, Blade, like Yi Xiaochuan and Gao Yao who had consumed the elixir of immortality, immediately experienced a massive golden static electricity eruption around him, with golden light and tiny lightning bolts enveloping his entire body.

The static electricity outburst lasted only a few seconds before the blade returned to normal.

Whistler rushed to Blade's side and asked about his condition: "How are you? Is something wrong?"

Whistler held the blade in one hand and the gun in the other, the muzzle constantly swaying. Stark watched the direction of the muzzle, afraid that the gun would go off accidentally.

"That feeling seems to have disappeared?"

Blade looked at the holy water bottle in his hand, reflecting on his current state, feeling somewhat insecure.

Whistler was even more decisive. He drew the dagger from his waist, made a cut in his palm, and held his bleeding hand under the blade.

Whistler's dangerous actions stemmed from his deep love for his son. If Blade's condition hadn't been cured and his blood thirst had flared up, he himself would have been the first to die in Blade's jaws.

Blade sniffed Whistler's hand carefully, even sticking a fingertip into his mouth with a little blood.

After trying to pry open his own fangs and confirming that he still had the external physical characteristics of a vampire, Blade was certain that he had been healed.

"Whistler, I'm all better! I'm no longer thirsty for blood. Even when blood enters my mouth, it doesn't feel satisfying; instead, it tastes like rust."

Whistler dropped the gun from his hand and reached out to hug Blade. He never imagined Blade would come to this.

Stark shoved the weapons aside and said, "Congratulations, you now know that blood tastes rusty because it mainly comes from heme iron, and from treating the hydrophobic products generated by porphyrin ring shearing..."

In this situation, no one paid any attention to Stark's incessant chatter; everyone was happy for Blade's condition.

Blade now felt completely relaxed, as if he had just expelled years of pent-up bodily fluids.