Marvelous Meditations

Nathan barely had time to process the last operative's body hitting the floor when the slow, deliberate sound of clapping echoed through the warehouse.

His grip on the pistol tightened. His head snapped toward the rafters, where a figure veiled in darkness perched like a predator waiting for the right moment to strike. Red, glowing eyes cut through the shadows, gleaming with amusement.

A grin. Sharp. Predatory. Unsettling.

Nathan raised his gun without hesitation and pulled the trigger.

BANG.

The bullet struck metal, punching a hole through the ceiling—but not through the target.

The figure was gone.

In a split second, the shadows shifted, and before Nathan could react, the intruder materialized right in front of him.

Nathan tensed. The man was tall, lean but powerfully built, clad in a tight, pitch-black bodysuit that hugged his frame like a second skin. A mask covered the upper portion of his face, its shape unmistakable—bat-like, with pointed, protruding ears, wide much like saucers.

His eyes—those eerie, glowing red eyes—stared at Nathan with a strange, predatory calm. But it was the grin that set off every instinct Nathan had.

A mouth full of long, razor-sharp fangs.

The figure tilted his head slightly, as if studying him. Then, in a voice smooth as silk yet laced with an unnatural hunger, he said, "For a mere human, you are indeed… impressive."

Nathan frowned. He didn't recognize the bastard, but it didn't take a genius to figure out what he was. Vampire.

And vampires were never up to anything good.

Nathan didn't waste time with questions. His instincts kicked in, and he raised his pistol in one smooth motion, aiming right between the glowing red eyes. Point-blank. He fired.

BANG.

The bullet tore through empty air.

The vampire had disappeared. A fraction of a second later, Nathan's senses screamed at him, a whisper of movement behind him, a chill at his back.

The vampire reappeared in a blur, barely inches away, but Nathan was about to let the figure outmatch him.

The Vibranium arm's auto-targeting system activated.

Without needing to think, Nathan twisted his entire body, the artificial limb whipping forward in a brutal punch aimed straight at the vampire's chest.

The vampire moved with unnatural grace, gliding backward through the air as though gravity barely applied to him. He landed effortlessly, feet touching the ground with eerie silence, his crimson eyes gleaming with amusement.

Raising an eyebrow, he smoothed out an imaginary wrinkle in his sleeve and let out a dramatic sigh.

"I understand your eagerness to fight, truly I do… but proper manners must be observed."

With exaggerated flair, he placed a hand over his chest and gave an elegant mock bow.

"They call me Baron Blood, and I—"

BANG.

A fresh gunshot cut him off mid-introduction.

The bullet streaked toward him in a blur, but Baron Blood's expression turned ice-cold. His arm shot up—inhumanly fast—intercepting the round before it could reach his chest.

Nathan watched as the vampire flicked his wrist, letting the spent bullet tumble uselessly to the floor. A small, charred wound remained in his forearm… but not for long.

Before Nathan's eyes, the wound sealed itself shut, as if the bullet had never even touched him.

The Baron clicked his tongue, shaking his head as though disappointed.

"For a mere blood-bag, you are an impressive specimen," he mused. "But I see I was mistaken to expect even the most basic courtesy."

His amused smirk faded, replaced by something darker—something far less patient.

"So be it," he muttered, his voice now a low growl. "If you are so eager to meet your demise, then I shall oblige."

Nathan, however, wasn't listening. He hadn't been from the start.

His gaze remained locked on the vampire, but it wasn't interest or intimidation that kept him focused.

It was cold calculation.

He was already reaching behind his back, fingers curling around the Muramasa Blade's hilt.

With a single, practiced motion, he pulled the weapon free, unwrapping the cloth from its crimson-steeled sheath. The dim light of the warehouse caught the blood-forged metal, giving the blade an eerie gleam.

The one weapon capable of cutting through even a vampire's regenerative flesh.

Nathan's voice finally broke the silence, low and steady. "Rick?"

He didn't turn, didn't glance around. He didn't need to. "If you're still here, now's the time to leave. Things are about to get ugly."

For a moment, there was only silence. Then, from the shadows, came the faintest shuffle of movement.

Rick said nothing.

He didn't need to.

He understood.

Sticking around was pointless. Against an opponent of this caliber, Nathan needed room to work.

Rick slipped into the darkness, moving toward the warehouse's back exit without a sound.

He could have stayed, he could have fought. But he and Nathan both knew the truth:

One misstep against an enemy like this could turn an ally into a liability.

And Nathan Cross didn't do liabilities.

With Rick gone, silence fell over the ruined warehouse once more.

Nathan exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders.

The Muramasa Blade gleamed in his grip, the cold steel pulsing with the weight of its deadly purpose.

Baron Blood's crimson eyes flicked toward the Muramasa Blade, but it wasn't the weapon itself that intrigued him. No, his fascination lay in Nathan's confidence.

Bullets had done nothing. His wounds had closed almost as soon as they appeared. What did this mortal think he could accomplish with a piece of sharpened metal?

His grin stretched wider, fangs gleaming in the dim warehouse light.

"Now this has become interesting…" he trailed off, his voice curling into a laugh that echoed through the empty space. Mocking. Pleased.

He finally finished, voice dripping with amusement, "Interesting enough for me to allow your little friend to leave… until I've had my fill with you, at least."

Nathan still hadn't reacted.

His expression remained blank, unreadable, as he shifted the Muramasa Blade to his good hand. His left, the vibranium arm, flexed once—its metallic fingers stretching, adjusting, preparing.

Finally, for the first time, Nathan acknowledged him. He tilted his head slightly, voice flat, disinterested. "You talk too much for a skeeter, you motherfucking leech."

Baron Blood's grin vanished. In the same instant, he moved.

A blur of black and red, faster than a thought.

Before Nathan could blink, Baron Blood was right in front of him, his clawed hand already swinging down— A strike meant to rip through flesh and bone like paper.

But it never landed.

CLANG.

Nathan's vibranium arm shot up—catching his wrist in midair. For the first time in decades, Baron Blood hesitated.

The strength behind his strike had been monstrous. Enough to split a reinforced bunker door in two. Enough to tear a normal human to shreds.

Yet Nathan had stopped it.

Cold. Unmoving. Unshaken.

Baron Blood's mind worked rapidly, trying to process. He'd seen this arm in action before—had watched it crush skulls and rip the hydra operatives apart. But never in his wildest dreams had he imagined it could match his own might.

And before he could fully comprehend what had happened— Nathan struck. His right hand whipped forward, the Muramasa Blade a streak of crimson steel, plunging straight toward the vampire's abdomen.

Despite the initial shock, Baron Blood adapted instantly.

The vampire's remaining hand shot forward, fingers closing around Nathan's wrist in an iron grip. The Muramasa Blade halted inches from his abdomen. For a moment, the two were locked in place, muscles tensed, strength against strength.

Baron Blood hummed, his lips curling into a smirk as he studied Nathan's right arm.

"Ah… I see." His tone was almost amused. "Your little toy arm is quite the marvel… but this one?" He squeezed Nathan's wrist slightly, feeling the strain in his grip. "This one doesn't have quite the same strength, does it?"

Nathan said nothing.

Instead, he acted.

With a flick of his wrist, his vibranium arm shifted. The metal morphed, reshaped— and became a blade.

Before Baron Blood could react, Nathan's left arm swung.

The razor-sharp vibranium edge sliced through flesh and bone effortlessly.

SHLNK.

Baron Blood barely had time to process it before his severed arm hit the ground. He screamed. A piercing, guttural howl of agony filled the warehouse, his severed limb twisting on the ground like a dying spider.

Nathan wasn't finished.

His vibranium blade retracted, shifting back to normal. Then, with calculated precision, he raised it to Baron Blood's chest and fired.

The kinetic energy stored from the vampire's earlier strike exploded outward.

BOOM.

The force hit Baron Blood like a battering ram, launching him backward.

He smashed into the warehouse wall, the impact leaving a crater of cracked cement. A gaping hole had formed in his torso, dark blood splattering against the wall behind him. He slumped to the ground, twitching.

Nathan exhaled, his eyes narrowing.

"Simply destroying the heart's not enough, huh?" he muttered to himself.

Sure enough, Baron Blood stirred.

The deep, ragged wound in his chest began to close. His severed arm, still twitching on the ground, turned to mist and reformed at his side. The vampire flexed his fingers, grinning once more.

Nathan's frown deepened.

The bastard had regrown a whole arm in seconds. That meant destroying the heart alone wasn't enough.

"Alright," Nathan mused, tightening his grip on Muramasa's hilt. "Guess I get to find out what actually kills you."

Sunlight? No, it hadn't been long since the sky darkened. Baron Blood wouldn't have risked traveling in daylight unless he could withstand it.

A wooden stake, maybe? Or…

Decapitation.

Nathan rolled his shoulders, the Muramasa blade glinting in the dim light. "Let's test that theory."

Baron Blood stood tall, rolling his newly regenerated shoulder, flexing his fingers as if testing their full range of motion. His wounds had vanished completely, not even leaving a scar behind. The only evidence of the damage Nathan had inflicted was the blood still smeared along the cracked wall.

Yet despite the pain he'd endured, the vampire wasn't angry. If anything, he looked intrigued.

His red, glowing eyes studied Nathan like a predator observing an unfamiliar species, as if he had stumbled upon something rare, dangerous, and utterly fascinating.

"You are full of surprises, mortal…" he mused, tilting his head. "How many more do you—"

Clank.

The sound of metal rolling against concrete cut him off.

Baron Blood's eyes flickered downward, catching sight of a cylindrical object tumbling across the floor, bouncing once before rolling to a stop just inches from his feet.

His grin widened. "An explosive device?" he asked, mockingly. With an amused chuckle, he crouched down, reaching for the small metallic cylinder.

His clawed fingers curled around it as he lifted it to eye level, studying it with a sneer."How disap—"

The grenade detonated.

A blinding flash of searing white light erupted from the device, flooding the warehouse with a burning radiance. Baron Blood's body instinctively recoiled, his eyes flaring wide before he let out a furious, pained snarl.

For the first time in decades, Baron Blood's sight was stolen from him.

And Nathan didn't waste a second.

With practiced efficiency, he shifted the Muramasa Blade to his vibranium arm, the weapon fusing seamlessly to the advanced prosthetic.

Then, he lunged.

Closing the distance in an instant, Nathan moved like a shadow, his entire body coiling with lethal precision. He swung the blade in a clean, ruthless arc, aiming straight for the vampire's exposed throat—

Going for the kill.

Despite being temporarily blinded, Baron Blood still had his other supernatural senses.

He heard the rush of air. He felt the disturbance in the space around him, and so he reacted.

"I tire of your games, mortal!" he growled, his arm shooting up.

He didn't even hesitate.

He had already seen Nathan's vibranium arm's capabilities. But a sword?

A mere piece of sharpened steel?

Ridiculous.

Baron Blood fully expected his hand to stop the blade mid-swing, his fingers curling around the weapon and snapping it in half like dry twigs.

He was gravely mistaken.

The Muramasa Blade sliced through his palm like butter, the ancient steel carving a path just below his thumb.

SCHLNK.

The severed piece of his hand hit the ground with a sickening thud.

A burning, unnatural agony seared through Baron Blood's nerves, far worse than any pain he had felt in centuries.

His mind barely had time to process the injury before instinct kicked in.

Ignoring the searing pain, he threw himself backward, retreating into the darkness. His body moved before his mind caught up, his reflexes saving him from the fatal strike.

Nathan's blade missed his throat by mere inches.

Baron Blood's sight returned in flickers—shadows sharpening, colors bleeding back into focus, the blinding white slowly fading into the cold, dim hues of the warehouse. His crimson eyes locked onto Nathan once more, but the amusement in them had dimmed.

Not gone entirely—he still wasn't angry. Not yet. But something had changed.

He flexed his mutilated hand, flicking it to the side with a casual motion, fully expecting his body to knit itself back together within seconds, as it always did.

Except—it didn't.

Nathan caught the brief flicker of confusion on the vampire's face. He grinned, slow and deliberate, like a wolf watching its prey finally realize it was bleeding.

Baron Blood's expression froze. And then—the pain hit.

Not the brief sting of a wound in mid-recovery. Not the split-second of agony before his body rendered it irrelevant.

This pain lingered.

It pulsed deeper, sharper, growing worse by the second, burning like a festering wound. An impossibility, a horrifying impossibility.

Panic flickered through his features as he turned his gaze toward his hand, dreading what he might see.

His eyes widened in genuine horror. The wound wasn't healing.

It wasn't just severed flesh. It was deteriorating, the edges of the cut blackening and rotting, as if something ancient and unnatural was gnawing away at him from the inside out.

A searing curse.

Baron Blood let out a guttural, inhuman scream, his fury and agony interwoven into a single, monstrous sound.

"YOU!" he bellowed, his voice reverberating through the rafters. "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!"

Nathan said nothing. He simply flicked the Muramasa Blade to the side, shaking loose the blood staining its cursed edge.

A silent answer.

Baron Blood's gaze snapped to the blade. His mind worked quickly—too quickly—processing years of knowledge, of battles fought, of weapons tested against his kind.

And for the first time in a very, very long time… he felt fear.

"You will pay for this!" he snarled, rage and unease swirling in his crimson eyes.

A sudden, sharp fluttering filled the air.

A swarm of bats erupted from the shadows, moving like a living storm, their screeches piercing the stillness of the warehouse. Dozens, hundreds—of them flooded the space between them, their erratic movements obscuring Nathan's vision for less than a second.

And yet—by the time they were gone… so was Baron Blood.

Nathan exhaled slowly, watching the empty space where the vampire had stood.

"At least he's not completely stupid," he muttered under his breath.

But then, a sharp pulse of pain ignited behind his eyes.

Nathan winced. His fingers twitched involuntarily as a whispering chorus slithered into his skull, crawling through his thoughts like venomous tendrils.

The blade; its voice was louder now, hungrier.

He clenched his jaw and quickly sheathed the sword, wrapping it once more in its protective cloth. The voices didn't fade immediately, but they dulled, retreating back into the edges of his mind, waiting.

Nathan exhaled, regaining his composure before turning toward the exit. He didn't need to finish this fight. Not yet.

...

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