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After leaving the house, Henry drove a short distance before stopping on another street. Slipping into a dark alley, he took off into the air and headed straight for the Goat Valley Lab.
There, he changed into his all-black Kevlar suit—complete with mask.
Going through the Continental would be too slow. If vampires were part of the High Table, the hotel wouldn't provide false information—but delays were very possible.
And if Jasper Baden was truly in danger, that delay could mean the difference between life and death.
Henry had already narrowed down the likely culprit: vampires.
If business tactics failed, escalation was only natural. And what better warning target than a peripheral figure?
So he would handle this himself.
Nighttime might be the domain of creatures of darkness—but it was also perfect for operating unseen.
Black Superman—online.
In an instant, he returned to downtown Los Angeles.
Standing at the edge of a rooftop, he unleashed his full suite of super-senses, scanning a ten-kilometer radius.
He didn't know Jasper's habits—where he might go, what places he frequented—so he had to search everything. Any sign of conflict drew extra attention.
His focus, however, was on vampires.
Their body temperatures were significantly lower than humans—almost indistinguishable from ambient surroundings. Any cluster of such "cold signatures" stood out.
And then—
He saw something unusual.
Those cold, humanoid figures would suddenly spike in temperature… and then lose their human form.
Someone was hunting vampires.
The scene was in South Los Angeles—the roughest area, dominated by Black and Hispanic communities.
What drew his attention wasn't just the activity—
It was two familiar faces.
One was Jasper Baden.
The other…
Unfamiliar—yet recognizable.
A Black man with a buzz cut, long black coat, sunglasses at night, and a sword strapped to his back. Slaughtering vampires.
That image could only mean one thing.
Blade.
One of the most famous vampire hunters in America.
Unlike most hunters—who were fully human—Blade had another title among vampires:
Daywalker.
He was half-vampire.
Not exactly a secret—at least not within hunter circles.
Which was why he usually worked alone. Many hunters considered him just as dangerous as his prey.
Henry had learned all this after realizing he'd crossed paths with vampires—but until now, he hadn't engaged directly.
Now, he was witnessing Blade in action.
As for Jasper—
He lay collapsed on the ground.
Judging by the blood loss at his neck—
He'd been bitten.
There were no other victims, and the location was an alley. That strongly suggested Jasper had been specifically targeted—not a случай victim stumbling into a vampire nightclub.
At this point in time, vampires still operated cautiously. Their clubs had strict access control. Random civilians didn't just wander in.
Their "blood bags" were carefully selected—lured in by attractive vampires, chosen specifically because no one would look too hard if they disappeared.
Which meant—
Feeding in an open alley like this?
Not their style.
By the time Blade finished off the last vampire, Black Superman stepped into the alley.
His arrival was greeted with a silver spike hurled straight at his chest.
It bounced off.
No surprise—Kevlar armor, plus Kryptonian skin.
If a thrown spike from a half-vampire could pierce that, the patent belonged in the trash.
Black Superman didn't move. No aggression. No sudden motion.
Blade paused.
"Who are you?"
"I was sent for him," Black Superman said, pointing at Jasper.
"The spike at your feet is yours now," Blade replied flatly. "When he turns, use it. Clean kill. Nothing left behind."
He then crouched, rummaging through the ashes of the vampires—collecting wallets, watches, anything valuable.
Those items survived—unlike clothing, which burned away with the body.
"Vampire hunter?" Black Superman asked.
Blade glanced back, annoyed. "If you're not blind, maybe cut eyeholes in whatever you're wearing."
"…Blade. The Daywalker."
Blade froze.
Behind his sunglasses, his gaze sharpened.
"Who are you?"
Black Superman ignored the question.
"Can you save him? Payment—one hundred thousand dollars."
Blade paused.
The mention of money clearly registered.
"Who is he?"
"Someone my client wants alive. Not dead. Not turned."
Blade studied Jasper. "Fresh bite. There's a chance. Just a chance. But you don't look like someone carrying a hundred grand."
Black Superman pulled out a Continental gold coin from his utility belt.
He showed it—then flicked it over.
Blade caught it.
"Save him first," Black Superman said. "Whether he lives depends on him. No one carries a hundred grand in cash. I'll get it."
Blade turned the coin over in his hand.
"One coin. One promise."
He pocketed it and moved to Jasper's side.
"I can help him. But how do I get paid?"
He clearly intended to take both the coin and the money.
Black Superman didn't argue.
"Save him. I'll find you."
Blade grabbed Jasper by the front of his shirt and lifted him like luggage.
He was about to say more—
But the man in black was already gone.
Blade looked around.
Nothing.
No trace.
After a moment, he shrugged, carried Jasper back to his Dodge Charger, and shoved him into the trunk.
Then he drove off—
Back to his hidden base.
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