Avi2112
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Chapter 151
🕑 Added 2024-12-06 09:50:25 +0000 UTCAncient Ruins, Outskirts of Belgrade city
"Alright, I will inform him," Racquel sighs, ending the call with a hint of frustration. She takes a deep breath, adjusting her dress—its sleek fabric reminding her of her favourite dress, the one she had to leave behind at the club yesterday. The aftereffects of last night still pulse through her body; it has been a long time since she felt this alive.
"Focus!" She gives her cheeks a quick slap, pulling herself back to reality. "That was just some cheap trick that bastard used. Don’t forget your mission. You are too close to fail now," she mutters silently, hyping herself up.
With another deep breath, Racquel steps out of her room and heads up the stairs. Along the way, numerous armed vampires nod in acknowledgment, but she ignores them, keeping her focus on her task as she reaches the top floor.
At the far end of the corridor, she stops in front of a heavy metal door and knocks lightly.
"Enter," a cold, steady voice commands from inside.
She pushes the door open, stepping into a darkened room. Though shrouded in shadows, her red eyes pierce the darkness with ease. The space resembles an ancient treasury, with display cases lining the walls, filled with relics: vases, swords, axes, armours. Racquel glances around, barely sparing the antiques a thought—such treasures hold no interest for her.
"Ah! Racquel, sweetie—are the preparations complete?" A voice, smooth and icy, breaks the silence.
"Yes, sir." Racquel gives a slight bow to the old man standing before an empty display case in the center of the room.
"Excellent." He turns slowly, adjusting his suit as he looks her over from head to toe. "And how many times must I tell you, sweetie? You can just call me Deacon."
"Alright… sir Deacon," Racquel replies with a small, sultry smile. "I… have something else to report," she says, a hint of hesitation in her voice.
Deacon’s smile turns quickly into a frown,"What is it?" he asks gravely.
"Our bases across the city have been attacked. Just now, I received word that even our Blood Factory was taken down." Racquel bows her head slightly.
"And who is the one attacking us?" Deacon asks with knitted brows.
"It is the Bloodstone girl … and with her, the man from last night …Apex" She speaks his name in a whisper.
"Oh?" Deacon’s tone shifts to one of almost amused curiosity.
"Shall I take a squad to… eliminate them?" Racquel offers, glancing up at him with uncertainty.
"No need, sweetie. This isn’t the time to chase after these minor nuisances," he replies dismissively.
"Understood." Racquel gives a curt nod.
"Now then, let’s go greet our special guest for the night." Deacon moves past her, pausing to add, "And Racquel, sweetie… I know you are not entirely loyal to me."
"That’s not true, si—" Racquel hurriedly denies.
He cuts her off with a grin. "Don’t worry; I don’t mind at all. All I want are results, so I don’t care whose pawn you are." He glances back at her, his eyes glinting with malice.
"Because after tonight, no one will dare challenge me!" His laugh rings out, his fangs gleaming menacingly in the shadows. "They will all know and fear the name... Deacon Frost!"
Racquel trembles slightly under his laughter, her head bowed as she follows him obediently. But a mocking sneer curls at the corner of her mouth as she watches the foolish old man—so unaware that he is the one being played like a pawn.
---
"Wake up, Blade… it's nighttime now," Deacon says with a twisted smile, his voice echoing off the walls.
Blade's red eyes flutter open, disoriented but instantly aware of the cold metal restraints binding him to a standing apparatus. His gaze wander around the dark room settling on the smirking figure before him. “You… Deacon Frost…” he manages, his voice ragged but full of venom.
“Yes Blade, it is me, Deacon Frost.” Deacon saunters closer, savouring the moment. "Your old acquaintance… or maybe more. In fact, I could be called your maker—the one who created you, the Daywalker! Or if you would prefer, you could even call me… Dad." He laughs, the sound grating and cruel.
Blade’s jaw clenches, his muscles taut as he struggles against his bindings. "I … will kill you!" he growls, every word laced with fury.
“Why so angry, sweetheart?” Deacon taunts, feigning innocence. “Did my little ‘dad’ comment hit a nerve? Did it remind you of that old man… what was his name? it was something ridiculous, yes, Whistler, right?”
Blade’s glare sharpens, his hatred for Deacon practically seething from him.
"Well, I must admit, I was quite impressed with your so-called 'Dad'! Last night, he put up a formidable fight … I went to great lengths to lure you away from your base, but I never expected that even an old, crippled human could be such a tough cookie.” Deacon’s grin widens. “Of course, It only made torturing him that much more enjoyable!"
Blade’s fists tighten within his restraints, but he says nothing.
“Oh, are you still upset over that old, useless human?” Deacon sneers, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. “Don’t be. He is probably long dead by now… or better yet, he might already be one of us.” He chuckles darkly, savouring the flicker of horror in Blade’s eyes. “Yes, a vampire. Maybe he is out there right now, lurking in the shadows, thirsty for blood!”
Blade seethes in silence, hatred boiling beneath his steady gaze.
“No need for that death stare. We are practically family, you and I.” Deacon’s voice lowers to a sinister whisper. “Although, considering what a whore your mother was, who’s to say for sure?” His laughter erupts, echoing ominously through the room.
“Y-You bastard… What did you do … to my mother?” Blade chokes out, straining to keep his composure.
“Hahahah… your mother, Vanessa? My naive child... she died years ago, the moment she gave birth to you. The woman you saw last night wasn’t her. It wasn’t your mother! That ‘Vanessa’ was my creation—a vampire, reborn as a bloodthirsty monster who will do anything—hunt, kill, all for a single drop of blood! She’s no different from the very vampires you hate!” Deacon sneers, his eyes glinting with sadistic pleasure as he watches Blade writhe in agony.
Blade's face contorts with rage. “I will… end you!”
Deacon smirks, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. "Alright, even I am starting to feel a little bad for you now... Tell you what, I will share something with you. Your mother, Vanessa, had already named you—she named you Eric. Your real name is Eric Brooks, not Blade! Hahahaha... You should be grateful, shouldn't you? Not only did I give you your 'gift', but I even gave you back your original name. What a kind soul I am!"
"You are... sick," Blade spits, his gaze burning with hatred as he stares at Deacon.
"No, no, you are wrong, my child," Deacon says with a mocking chuckle. "I am not sick—what’s sick is this world! You see, many years ago, I was just a regular man. I had everything I could ever want—fame, wealth, even children. Deacon Frost, the brilliant chemist, inventor of countless drugs, holder of numerous patents, and the founder of a thriving company—Frost International!" Deacon puffs out his chest, pride gleaming in his eyes as he reminisces.
"But soon, all that became meaningless," his smile fades, and a bitter sigh escapes his lips. "I was reminded of the greatest weakness of our species—time." His voice hardens as his fist clenches. "I grew old. All my wealth, all my accomplishments, couldn’t shield me from the relentless hands of time."
Blade has already closed his eyes, bored of his bullshit monologue.
Deacon doesn't notice, pressing on in his tale. "But one day, fortune smiled on me. While experimenting with some unique blood, I made a rookie mistake—spilling it on an open wound of mine. In my youth, I would never have been so careless, but age makes fools of us all. Yet, that mistake became my greatest stroke of luck. The blood I spilled... was no ordinary blood. Can you guess whose it was?" He leans forward, eyes narrowing with an almost malicious glint. "It was a vampire's."
Blade keeps his eyes closed, indifferent.
Undeterred, Deacon raises his voice, almost to taunt Blade. "That blood was laced with vampiric enzymes, and in one night, I was transformed. Into this glorious form!" He gestures proudly to his body, his grin widening. "A Vampire. An ageless creature, free from the tyranny of time!"
He pauses, as if savouring the moment, then continues, his tone shifting to something more clinical. "Of course, as a man of science, I can’t ignore the drawbacks of this species—like the thirst, the dependence on blood, the inability to eat or taste normal food. And of course, the weaknesses—garlic, silver... but you see, there’s one little detail I haven’t mentioned." Deacon leans closer, his smile darkening. "There’s a concentrated garlic solution running through your veins right now, weakening you as we speak."
Blade opens his eyes, glaring at Deacon through clenched teeth, meanwhile his grin widens, enjoying Blade’s discomfort.
"Ah, yes, continuing on, how can I forget the most infamous weakness … the worst of all." Deacon continues, his brows knitting in a mix of anger and resentment. "The one thing that separates you from all the other vampires—the Sun."
Deacon sneers, his voice dripping with bitterness. "Did you know, there was a time when I envied you? I held envy for my own creation. I bit your mother when she was about to give birth to you, unintentionally making you the Daywalker—half man, half vampire, able to walk in the sun. Meanwhile, I, your creator, still suffer from that weakness. How is that fair?" He snarls, his gaze burning with fury, but Blade’s cold stare only deepens his hatred.
"After years of learning about you, I became obsessed—wanted to dissect you, figure out what makes you different," Deacon admits, his eyes flashing with greed. "But then, I realized... the true curse for all vampires isn't the Sun." He leans in closer, his voice low and menacing. "It's the other vampires. The Older, Stronger ones. The ones whose commands we must obey. The ones who rule with an iron fist!"
His expression darkens as he recalls the pain. "That is the law of this dark world. A world where every vampire obeys without question. But I wasn’t like them. I wasn’t made of magic, nor converted by another. I was like you, Eric—unique. So, I questioned it. I rebelled. But I soon discovered the truth: a vampire’s power is bound by their Bloodline. And my Blood... was nothing special. Just some random vampire’s blood. Nothing remarkable about it," he spits, his twisted anger bubbling to the surface.
"But I didn't give up," Deacon says, his voice suddenly shifting to a triumphant tone. His smile widens, manic joy lighting up his eyes. "I had endless time to study, to search for the answer. And soon, I found it, Eric. A permanent solution to all my problems."
"Can you... stop barking? It’s hurting my ears!" Blade manages to say through gritted teeth, tired of his yapping.
"Hahaha! There he is—the great Daywalker, feared by all, the vampire hunter! Yet here you are, utterly helpless before me!" Deacon exclaims, his grin wide and mocking. "Do you know why you lost? Let me enlighten you. It’s your human side that makes you weak, Blade. The same human side that grants you your greatest strength—the ability to walk in the sun—is also your greatest vulnerability. Ironic, isn’t it?" His laughter fills the room, gleeful and unrestrained.
Blade regards him with an empty stare, having long since tuned out the man’s ramblings.
"Don’t worry, Eric. I wasn’t speaking to you for so long in vain; I was just waiting for the stage to be set," Deacon continues, his tone dripping with amusement.
At that moment, Racquel enters the room. "Sir... Deacon, she is ready for you," she says, bowing respectfully.
Comments
Avirat Dulera
As every villain should 😝😝
Orvious
Great the guy starts monologueing.
