A smell?
It wasn't the musk of a wild boar.
It was... a foreign scent.
Inside Locke's Memory Palace, the partition storing data on various odors slid open. The newly received olfactory data was rapidly cross-referenced against his mental library.
Demons? *PASS.*
Witches? *PASS.*
Goblins? *PASS.*
Sirens? *PASS.*
...
Locke narrowed his eyes slightly. He looked through the 8x scope of his Remington 700 toward Leica Lake—specifically, toward the dense forest from which the breeze was carrying the scent.
A new scent. A new species! What breed was this?
"Locke?" Gwen's voice came through.
"I'm here."
"Don't shoot yet. That area is open ground; don't let us get ambushed."
"Got it."
Locke temporarily snapped back to the task at hand. He looked through the scope at George and Hank, who were wielding their shotguns and preparing to trade fire with the boar family. He gave an affirmative hum, clicked off the safety, and rested his finger on the trigger.
Business first. Unlocking a new species could wait. The scent carried by the wind was at least three kilometers away; it was likely some creature just passing through the mountains on the other side.
Locke reasoned that in this chaotic world, playing it safe and steady—doing what was appropriate for one's age—was the best course of action.
...
*Rustle, rustle, rustle!*
"Hurry up!"
"Shit!"
"They're gaining on us!"
On the other side of the mountain, five fugitives moved through the forest with ghost-like agility. Their prison jumpsuits, originally orange, were now smeared black with mud. Broken chains still dangled from some of their ankles.
"Woof! Woof!"
Two large, energetic police dogs followed close behind, tongues lolling, relentlessly narrowing the gap. Behind the dogs was a search party composed of officers from the neighboring county.
However, when the leader of the search party reached a clearing, he froze at the sight of two bodies lying on the ground, eyes wide with lingering terror.
"Jack?"
"Martin?"
"Oh my god!"
"Fuck!"
The officers recognized their colleagues. These two were supposed to be manning the blockade on the road leading to Mingo County, but they had met a grisly end.
"Dammit!" The search leader—the Sheriff of the neighboring county—darkened. With a sharp *clack*, he chambered a round into his shotgun. "After them!"
If he let the people who killed his men escape, how could he ever show his face again?
"Captain."
"What!"
"Look at this."
The Captain, thinking someone was reminding him they were about to cross into Mingo County territory, prepared to snap back. But his eyes followed his deputy's pointing finger.
The bodies of Jack and Martin.
The Captain sucked in a cold breath. "They aren't bleeding."
His brow furrowed in anger, but then he too froze, looking closer at the pale corpses with dilated pupils. One officer plucked up his courage and stepped forward to examine them. He turned a head over.
On the neck, two punctures resembling fang marks were clearly visible.
"Captain!" the officer checking the bodies shouted, lifting a victim's right arm. "Look at this..."
A deep gash on the forearm exposed the bone. Ordinarily, such a wound would be a fountain of blood, but the cut was clean and white. Not a single drop of blood remained. It was as if every ounce of life had been sucked dry.
Instantly, the name of a species associated with those two puncture marks flashed in everyone's minds.
*Vampire.*
But... the officers and the Captain looked up. Though the forest was dense, they could see the sun hanging in the sky—bright, hot, and unforgiving.
Vampires? Walking in the sunlight? Was this some kind of mutant strain?
"Gulp." One officer swallowed hard, his voice trembling. "Captain, maybe we should notify Mingo County and ask for assistance."
Technically, Mingo had already sent people, but the Captain, out of pride, had asked them to stick to the perimeter of the other side of the county.
The Captain frowned. Just then...
*BOOM!*
A gunshot thundered through the mountain forest. The officers jumped, raising their weapons and looking around warily. The echo rolled through the trees for a long time before fading.
"It sounds like... the shot came from the other side of the mountain?"
...
It wasn't just the search party. George, Hank, and Erin were also startled by the sudden, massive sound from behind them.
Furthermore, they were treated to the sight of a charging boar—which had just begun its mad dash toward them—having its entire head explode into a red mist right before their eyes.
The scene was... vivid.
The walkie-talkie hissed.
"Sorry, the suppressor came loose when I shifted position." Locke's apologetic voice came through the radio, leaving George and the others exchanging bewildered looks.
But they didn't have time to chat. They raised their own suppressed hunting rifles to finish off the remaining boars that were now running blindly into their trap.
Locke handed the radio back to Gwen, who had lowered her binoculars and adjusted her earmuffs. "You okay?"
Gwen shook her head. "I had my muffs on. Are you okay?"
Locke smiled. "You should hear the range sometimes. Last time, a guy was shooting steel plates with a Barrett. Now that is loud."
As he spoke, Locke reattached the suppressor and adjusted his aim. Through the 8x scope, five figures standing in the woods on the opposite side of Leica Lake—hunched over the remains of the police dogs—appeared in his sights.
'Oh, vampires.' A genuinely new species.
Locke had expected to encounter vampires in New York City eventually. He figured they'd be in Queens, the slums, or perhaps some "21 and over" underground clubs. He wouldn't visit the former, and while the Peerless Assassin could visit the latter, doing so would ruin the assassin's air of mystery.
So, Locke was certain New York had them. Blade was part of the Marvel universe, after all. He just hadn't expected to unlock this species while out on a hunting trip.
It was quite magical.
If the timing weren't so bad, Locke would have loved to go over and study them to see exactly what breed they were. After all, aside from one specific romance-brained vampire clan, most vampires weren't supposed to walk in the sun. How were these bats doing it so casually?
Unfortunately, the time and place were wrong. Gwen was right next to him. And his father-in-law was right below him.
But if he did nothing and those five bats decided to head down the mountain and bite George to death, Locke would be in a difficult position.
So, he had fired that shot.
That unsuppressed blast was a warning to those five. Otherwise, he wouldn't have accidentally loosened his suppressor to make such a racket.
'Don't you dare come down here and cause trouble.'
'Otherwise, what happened to that boar will happen to you. One shot from me and your head will bloom like a flower. Even if you're a vampire, I doubt you can regenerate from a missing skull.' If a zombie dies when its brain is gone, surely a vampire does too?
...
On the opposite ridge, the five "bats" indeed heard the gunshot. They saw the boar's head explode under their very noses—a sight so gruesome it gave them pause.
These five had been turned only recently. They were broken out of transport by the mastermind—the serial killer. Before they could even thank him or discuss an escape plan, the killer had lunged, draining two other fugitives dry right in front of them. It was... intense.
Fortunately, after the killer and his two rescuers finished off those two, they seemed sated. They licked their lips, looked at the remaining five, and bit them too.
In their daze, they heard nonsense about blessings and whispers about leaving them alive to stall the "pigs" (the cops).
By the time the five woke up, they barely had time to process their situation before they heard the search party nearby. They fled. Then they realized they were faster, didn't get winded, and their hearts weren't even beating.
They wanted to study their condition, but being hunted through the woods left little time for self-reflection. Aside from the fact that they seemed to be vampires who didn't fear the sun (they just got a bit "sparkly"), they were clueless.
So, seeing a sniper potentially lying in wait and three people at the lake who fired shotguns like they were pistols, one vampire licked his lips and tossed the drained dog aside. "Let's go. Don't go down there."
One shot had turned a boar's head into mist. They had no interest in testing how hard their own skulls were.
The other four nodded in agreement. They had just become legendary creatures—mutated ones that didn't fear the sun, no less. They hadn't even begun to enjoy the good life. If they charged down there and got picked off by the sniper who loved headshots, who would they complain to?
The five exchanged looks and prepared to find another way out.
Just then...
*BANG!*