"Bite!"
"Extraordinary points obtained: 1."
"New supernatural ability detected."
"Supernatural ability: Vampire."
"Ability level: E."
"Ability effects: Eternal life, immortality, slight enhancement to physical strength, defense, and speed."
"Ability side effects: Blood thirst (daily blood consumption required), vulnerability to holy water and wooden stakes, sunlight suppression (exposure causes weakness and discomfort), ultraviolet radiation is lethal (prolonged exposure results in total cellular collapse)."
"Remarks: Can be upgraded (upgrades may remove side effects)."
"Copy this extraordinary ability?"
"Confirm?"
…Vampire.
Not a mutant?
Locke stood still for a moment, the mechanical voice of the Ultimate Evolution Module fading into silence inside his mind. His gaze dropped to the body on the floor.
Smoke was rising from it now.
At first it was thin, curling upward like steam from cooling pavement. Then it thickened, white vapor wrapping around the corpse as if the air itself was swallowing it. Flesh blurred. Edges dissolved. Within seconds, the body began to fade as though someone had erased it from reality frame by frame.
Disappear.
That was the only word for it.
When the smoke finally thinned and scattered, there was nothing left where the corpse had been. No limbs. No blood pool. No torn fabric.
Only a faint gray scorch-like imprint on the concrete.
And two sharp fangs.
Locke let out a slow breath.
Well.
So this was real.
A vampire.
A strange, almost absurd satisfaction stirred inside him. How should he describe it? When you search desperately for something, you find nothing. When you give up entirely, it walks straight into your hands.
The name of his system was the Ultimate Evolution Module—not Mutant Evolution Module. From the beginning, the wording had been clear.
Supernatural.
Not just mutants.
Anything beyond normal human limits.
As long as it qualified as an extraordinary lifeform, the Module could extract its essence.
Mutants. Vampires. Perhaps even things far stranger.
Vampires counted.
Locke had actually considered them first, long before tonight. If he was being honest, vampirism was one of the most efficient starting abilities imaginable.
Immortality alone put it near the top tier.
Living forever meant infinite time to stack, refine, and evolve. Time was the one resource even the strongest heroes lacked.
As for the weaknesses?
Upgrade and remove them.
That had always been the plan.
The problem was access.
Mutants were rare enough. Vampires were rarer. He didn't walk around with detection glasses. If one passed him on the street, how would he know? Kill every suspicious person on the off chance?
That wasn't viable.
So he had shelved the idea.
And now?
Now that he'd stopped looking, a vampire had practically delivered itself to him.
Locke reviewed the ability description again in his mind.
The benefits were exactly as expected.
Eternal life.
Regeneration.
Enhanced physical capability.
Clean. Direct. Foundational.
But the side effects…
Blood dependency.
Holy water.
Wooden stakes.
Sunlight suppression.
Ultraviolet lethality.
He exhaled slowly.
The positives fit in a single clean line.
The drawbacks needed four.
That was excessive.
Another issue lingered. The Module copied abilities relative to the source's strength. The stronger the target, the stronger the base template.
This one was E-level.
Which meant the vampire he'd just killed was bottom-tier.
If vampires followed a grading hierarchy—and they almost certainly did—there were D-levels above. C-levels. B-levels. Maybe even A-level ancient predators.
If he copied now, he'd start at the lowest possible foundation.
Yes, he could upgrade with extraordinary points.
But why build from scrap metal if you could start with aerospace alloy?
The prompt remained suspended in his mind. He didn't have to decide immediately. The Module allowed twenty-four hours before an unclaimed ability expired.
Locke closed the interface mentally.
No rush.
He turned as Brown and the surviving SWAT officers emerged from the apartment building, moving slowly, leaning on one another. Their gear was torn. Blood stained black tactical fabric. Breathing was heavy and uneven.
Extraordinary creatures were extraordinary for a reason.
That had been an E-level vampire.
And it had just killed five of twelve trained tactical operators.
Yes, there had been an information gap. They'd prepared for a mutant, not this.
But even so, the disparity was clear.
The weakest supernatural predator could stand against combat elites and leave bodies behind.
"Brown," Locke said quietly, stepping forward.
He took over from one of the officers supporting the team leader and helped guide him toward the van. Brown's weight was solid but unsteady. Locke eased him down onto the rear bumper.
Debbie had already pulled out the first-aid kit. Jack came around from the back entrance, stowing the X-gene suppression rod and moving in to assist with emergency treatment.
For several minutes, the scene shifted into controlled chaos.
Bandages. Pressure wraps. Low curses. The smell of antiseptic mixing with blood.
Then sirens.
The Sentinel emergency medical unit arrived and took over. Professionals replaced field improvisation.
Brown, wrapped hastily but stubborn as ever, brushed off attempts to keep him seated. With Locke supporting him, he made his way back toward the gray mark on the pavement.
Debbie crouched there, carefully swabbing the dark residue into a cotton tip and depositing it into a test tube filled with blue reagent.
Brown stared at the ash imprint. At the two fangs now sealed inside an evidence bag.
His jaw tightened.
This had been a routine mutant apprehension.
Five of his people were dead.
"Fuck," he muttered.
His voice carried anger. And something heavier beneath it.
"Wasn't this thing supposed to be a mutant?"
Debbie stood and held up the test tube. She shook it lightly.
The liquid remained transparent.
"If it were a mutant," she said evenly, "the X-gene would react. The reagent would turn dark blue."
It hadn't.
"Not a mutant," she concluded.
Brown looked at the clear solution. Then at the fangs.
He frowned deeply. "If it's not a mutant… what the hell was it? Vampire? That's not real."
"Why not?" Locke said calmly from beside him.
Brown glanced at him.
"There are mutants," Locke continued. "That alone would've sounded insane a few decades ago. If mutants exist, why draw the line at vampires?"
Brown hesitated.
That logic landed harder than he expected.
Still, he shook his head. "We've never seen one before."
"Before tonight," Locke replied, steady. "Now we have."
Brown's lips pressed into a thin line.
Locke kept his expression neutral.
He already knew the answer. Vampires existed. So did werewolves. And beings that made both look quaint.
Knowledge and experience weren't the same thing.
If he hadn't joined the Sentinel Secret Service, he might have lived his entire life aware that mutants existed—and never encountered one.
The world was layered.
Ordinary civilians saw one layer.
Agencies like theirs saw another.
And above that?
Locke's eyes drifted briefly to the sealed evidence bag.
There were deeper strata still.
For now, the gears had only just started turning.