New York was enormous, and surviving there wasn't easy. Manhattan in particular was a financial meat grinder, chewing up anyone without generational wealth and spitting them back into the outer boroughs. For someone two years out of college and still shackled to student loans, even a decent federal salary didn't stretch far enough.
Locke made one hundred and twenty thousand dollars a year now. On paper, that sounded impressive. In Manhattan real estate terms, it barely covered a closet. It certainly wouldn't buy him a bathroom, let alone an apartment.
So he rented.
The place cost two thousand dollars a year when he first moved in, a steal even back then. Six months ago, the landlord had "adjusted" it to two thousand a month. It still counted as cheap compared to similar units nearby, which said more about the city than about the apartment.
He unlocked the door and stepped inside. The space was small, about fifty square meters total, a living room and a bedroom, functional and nothing more. He dropped his car keys into the ceramic candy bowl by the entrance, opened the refrigerator, and pulled out a frozen pizza.
While the microwave hummed to life, he crossed to the wine cabinet and took out a half-finished bottle of bourbon. He poured himself a glass and took a slow sip. The warmth spread down his throat and into his chest, and some of the day's tension loosened.
After draining the first glass, he set it down and, with a thought, summoned the interface of the Ultimate Evolution Module.
The translucent panel flickered into existence before him, highlighting the newly acquired E-level vampire ability available for copying.
He studied it in silence.
Four lines of negative effects.
He could copy it now and gain immediate benefits. Or he could wait, track down a stronger vampire, and copy a higher-tier version later. If he copied something at D, B, or even A level directly, he would save the extraordinary points otherwise required to climb from E upward.
Early copy, early enjoyment.
Late copy, discounted growth.
The logic was clean.
The problem wasn't the weaknesses themselves. The system made it clear they could be removed through upgrades. What troubled him was timing.
This year, attacks on the Sentinel Special Service had escalated. Rumors circulated about a new mutant organization calling itself "Mutant Freedom." Intelligence analysts suspected it evolved from remnants of the Hellfire Club, rebranded with sharper messaging.
Under the slogan of mutant supremacy, they had launched multiple coordinated strikes against Sentinel divisions across the country. Several had succeeded.
New York was not spared.
Last month, Ralph, leader of Sentinel Group Two and a senior agent on Locke's level, was shot dead in a mall parking garage. A calling card from Mutant Freedom had been placed neatly beside the body. Two weeks ago, a Group Five operative reported being ambushed outside his apartment late at night.
Locke swirled the bourbon in his glass.
Yes, or no.
If Mutant Freedom targeted him tomorrow, what then? In this line of work, you didn't fear the ten thousand scenarios that never happened. You feared the single one that did.
He had never been particularly confident about his luck.
The Ultimate Evolution Module itself had arrived twenty-two years late.
What if he declined this opportunity, failed to trace more vampires, and mutants chose that exact window to strike?
The microwave dinged, cutting through his thoughts.
That was enough.
"Yes," he muttered.
Safety first.
Even if the E-level vampire gene carried weaknesses, preparation mattered more than optimization. Better to reinforce the wall before the storm hit than to patch it after it collapsed.
As long as he was alive, the dream remained.
He focused on the interface and made his decision.
The next second, the system responded.
A soft chime echoed in his mind. The "Vampire Ability" panel began to contract toward its center, shrinking rapidly until it condensed into a crystalline gem.
"Copy successful."
"First card slot: 'Vampire Gene.'"
"Ability level: 'E.'"
"Ability effect: 'Eternal life, immortality, slight enhancement of attack, defense, and speed…'"
"Ability side effects: 'Thirst (daily blood consumption required), artifacts (holy water and wooden stakes can kill you), sunlight is your natural enemy (exposure causes weakness and discomfort), ultraviolet rays are lethal (prolonged exposure results in total cellular collapse)…'"
"Ability improvement cost: '10 points.'"
As the gem embedded into the first card slot, Locke felt the change immediately.
It began deep inside his chest.
A cold current spread through his veins, subtle at first, then irreversible. A faint aura of death clung to his skin. He became acutely aware of his heartbeat.
It was slowing.
Slow.
Slower.
Then it stopped.
For a fraction of a second, there was nothing.
Then a new rhythm emerged—not a pulse, but a presence. A hollow hunger stirred in the depths of his being. His skin grew paler, though he had always been fair to begin with. Now it was almost translucent.
He sat motionless on the bar stool, looking like a statue carved from marble.
After several seconds, his eyes snapped open.
The blue was gone.
They were crimson.
E-level vampire gene successfully fused.
He lifted his arm and studied it.
Pale.
But strong.
He clenched his fist.
A sharp compression sound cracked through the air, as if invisible space itself had been squeezed. Strength surged through his muscles. His hearing sharpened. His sense of smell expanded outward like a radar pulse.
He could detect the cheese and tomato sauce from the apartment next door. Above him, the rhythmic sounds of a couple having sex filtered clearly through the ceiling. The woman's voice rose in exaggerated pitches.
"Too fake," he muttered.
Then something else reached him.
A metallic scent.
Blood.
His gaze snapped toward the door. The female tenant next door had apparently cut her finger while slicing pizza. He could picture it—the thin line of red, the iron-rich aroma drifting through the wall.
His body moved before his brain finished processing.
He reached the apartment door.
Then he stopped.
The hunger sharpened, coiling in his stomach.
Damn side effects.
He stepped back, jaw tightening.
"Upgrade."
The interface flickered.
"Ability improvement requires consumption…"
"Promote."
Thirty minutes later, he stood in his bathroom, staring into the mirror. The system interface hovered faintly in his reflection.
"Extraordinary card slot: 1."
"Extraordinary points: 1."
"First card slot: 'Vampire Gene.'"
"Ability level: 'B.'"
"Ability effects: 'Eternal life (conventional weapons cannot end your existence), immortality (appearance permanently stabilized), strength, defense, speed, and sensory perception significantly enhanced.'"
"Negative abilities: 'Blood Dependency (blood sustains vitality; one week without intake results in progressive weakening), Night Walker (empowered in darkness; weakened but not destroyed in daylight).'"
"Further improvement cost: 200 extraordinary points."
Locke examined his reflection carefully.
The lethal ultraviolet vulnerability was gone. Sunlight no longer meant immediate death. Holy water and wooden stakes had vanished from the list.
What remained was manageable.
He bared his teeth slightly.
Two sharpened fangs gleamed.
His face was pale, his eyes a layered blend of red and faint blue beneath. He tilted his head, studying the symmetry, the sharpness in his features.
He raised an eyebrow at himself.
Not bad.
Actually, a little more handsome.