Blade opened his eyes once again at the Weiland Private Research Institute.
Even though he had been here several times and was used to the environment, as a half-human, half-Vampire, he remained vigilant at all times.
His eagle-like eyes swept across the dilapidated surroundings, brewing with ferocity, with occasional flashes of red in the dim light—evidence of his nature as a half-Vampire.
Above, the large characters "Weiland Private Research Institute" hung over the dilapidated building before him.
The name alone screamed abnormality.
He really didn't know what madness had seized the owner of this place, establishing a temporary base in an abandoned building in New York City slated for demolition, and giving it such a high-tech-sounding name.
Just then, his ears twitched, and shua! Blade instinctively reached for the two katanas on his back—special weapons laced with silver.
"I'd advise you to put those weapons away, this is my territory, and there are no Vampires for you to kill."
The steady tone revealed no emotional fluctuations, and then a young, black-haired man walked over.
His delicate features indicated that the owner of this face was not old, only in his twenties, and at first glance, he seemed as harmless as a little white rabbit.
If one ignored the bizarre creature beside this guy.
"If you can get that little pet to back up a few meters, maybe I'll believe you," Blade paused, said, and then released his grip.
But the eyes under his sunglasses watched the strange "pet's" every move.
This thing was about 3 meters tall, its body a streamlined black form, as if pieced together from countless human vertebrae; a slender tail, seemingly pregnant with immense power, swayed gently, its tip like a sharp knife, possessing powerful penetrating force; sharp claws dragged on the ground, easily leaving long scratches, making Blade's eyelids twitch wildly.
The most striking feature was undoubtedly the creature's head, like a strange crown, seemingly with extraordinary implications.
A never-before-seen creature, its entire body seemed born for ultimate combat, simply a fantasy version of a genius screenwriter from a science fiction work.
Blade also relied on his powerful vision to keenly discover that, compared to the previous few meetings, now, this monster had many unknown viscous fluids on its body.
Duval nodded, obviously satisfied with Blade's response, inadvertently sizing up Blade with a strange charm in his eyes, his gaze sweeping over Blade's body, focusing on the bulging chest muscles, slender thighs, explosively thick arms...
So beautiful.
Blade frowned, a trace of instinctive alertness flashing in his eyes.
Here it comes again.
That kind of look made him feel like this guy wasn't looking at a person, and Blade had every reason to believe that this strange man had extraordinary fetishes.
At this moment, as if sensing the danger signal emanating from Blade, the strange creature beside Duval moved, immediately flicking its tail over.
So fast!
Blade's expression changed slightly, and he raised his hand for a strike.
With a ding, his palm felt slightly numb from the shock, repelling the monster's tail, and he felt a chill in his heart.
Even though he hadn't used his full strength, with his power, he had failed to cut off this metal-hard tail with one strike...
Blade looked up again, only to find that the monster standing beside Duval had disappeared silently, already appearing on the ceiling above him, its sharp claws flashing with terrifying cold light, looking like it could tear off Blade's skull at any moment.
"Sorry, professional habit." Duval quickly made an apologetic gesture, "You know, I'm a researcher, and it's difficult to support such a venue alone, so I inevitably have to put all my attention into my work."
"This guy is strong, what's it called?" Blade was secretly shocked, outwardly calmly watching this silent and ghostly assassin-like strange creature retreat back to Duval's side.
"Xenomorph," Duval replied.
"An interesting name. It seems it's your research institute's most outstanding achievement, a weapon of war."
Blade was considered knowledgeable, spending his entire life fighting various monsters, mainly vampires. Even a tentative confrontation was enough for him to define the Xenomorph's existence and Duval's character.
He didn't care if Duval was a science fanatic, as long as he could provide help.
Duval remained noncommittal. Most outstanding? Aside from the "egg-laying" aspect, this Xenomorph wouldn't be the most outstanding for long.
Thinking this, Duval took a deep breath, forcing himself not to obsess over Blade's ridiculously strong physique, and took out a briefcase: "This is the highly corrosive weapon you wanted—diluted, of course. Otherwise, only Adamantium could be used to make its container. In special occasions late at night, it's more useful than ultraviolet grenades, at least it will quietly help you kill enemies."
Blade was silent for a moment, then took out a bag from his arms and threw it over.
"As per our agreement, one hundred thousand dollars," Blade said.
Duval whistled: "Are vampire hunters all so rich? That's right, killing vampires is a money-burning job, even the bullets are made of silver."
"Anyway, it's not my money. The more vampires I kill, the more money I can snatch from those beasts," Blade was always generous when it came to spending money.
One hand delivers the money, the other delivers the goods.
"I'll find a chance to promote your product. Using this highly corrosive liquid to deal with vampires' super healing ability is very effective." Blade left these words, carrying the case and taking a few steps back.
Duval suddenly said, "If possible, you can bring me some vampires back, alive."
"Oh? Dealing with those guys is not a good idea," Blade looked at him in surprise.
"Can't help it, time is running out," Duval said.
Blade did not continue to respond, nor did he ask what this meant, disappearing into the night.
"Blade, tsk, this guy is a righteous fanatic."
Duval stared at Blade's departing figure and closed the door again.
The vampires of the Marvel world are very interesting. The origin of these things is not Dracula or Cain, but a magician named Varnae who first came into contact with the Darkhold, relying on the power of the Darkhold to transform himself into the first vampire.
And the author of the Darkhold is the famous God of Black Magic, the god who controls one of the three original forces of the Multiverse, the power of Chaos Magic, the second-generation god of the original World Tree, above the mass-produced third-generation World Tree gods such as Odin, Zeus, and the Jade Emperor, and also the source of power for the Scarlet Witch—Chthon, one of the four Chaos Gods of the Multiverse.
As long as it is related to hatred, ominousness, and Black Magic, more or less there is a shadow of Chthon, this ultimate Magic entity.
But now there is no need to worry. Duval feels that as an ordinary individual in the Multidimensional, he can't even jump out of the most basic timeline, and it is impossible to be qualified to attract the attention of such a big shot. At present, the thing he needs to pay attention to is still getting money from the reputable Blade.
Blade, a vampire hunter famous in the underworld. His mother was bitten by a vampire when she gave birth to him, which caused him to have half of the vampire bloodline at birth.
He is not afraid of silver and sunlight like ordinary vampires, so he can walk in the sun as he pleases, so that he is called a "Daywalker" by vampires who are envious and jealous.
But there are also disadvantages, that is, he needs to inject immune drugs regularly to prevent himself from being completely swallowed by the vampire bloodline.
However, Blade's character is relatively reliable. As long as you are willing to provide him with the convenience of hunting vampires, he is very happy to do business with you.
Duval shrugged. There was nothing he could do. Who told him he needed money? Anyway, exchanging a little Xenomorph blood for Blade's money is just a temporary expedient.
Since traveling to this Marvel world, Duval was once in anxiety. This world, or this universe, has too many freaks and too many ruthless characters.
But fortunately, he has a Xenomorph with him.
"I remember that before I traveled through time, Marvel had officially started serializing independent publications of Xenomorphs. It was a purely high-tech world, without things like superheroes..."
Duval counted the US dollars in his hand, his thoughts drifting away.
"Hoo hoo!"
The Xenomorph next to him noticed the change in Duval's thoughts. Although it couldn't know exactly what Duval was thinking, it was absolutely loyal to the person in front of it and made its own response.
The Xenomorph's calls are never meaningless. As long as it makes a sound, it must be expressing some kind of purpose.
Duval smiled slightly and stretched out his hand. The Xenomorph obediently lowered its head, allowing the man to stroke its crown-like skull.
The man and the Xenomorph walked into the research institute, opened the secret room, and in the extremely rough and simple basement that looked like it had been gnawed out by an incredibly strong vicious dog—or rather, an underground cave—Duval slowly raised his head.
Five white, mucus-covered eggs came into view.
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