Mel's Diner, on the outskirts of Los Angeles, was the quintessential American greasy spoon—red vinyl booths, checkered floors, neon signs, and the smell of fried meat ingrained in the walls for decades. I sat in a corner by the window, watching the sparse passersby on the quiet street. Before me sat a half-eaten burger—the first real human food I'd tasted in centuries.
The flavor was… unexpected. The mix of grilled meat, vegetables, and sauces created a bouquet my tongue, accustomed only to blood, found exotic. In my time, food was simple—bread, meat, milk. No complex sauces, no spices from distant lands. This burger was a symphony of tastes I couldn't fully appreciate but found intriguing. It was delicious, I had to admit, and that surprised me. These lesser creatures had learned so much—how was it possible?
I had doubts that these apes evolved so quickly on their own. Reading the world's history, I sensed the hand of a certain dark-skinned Eternal.
The waitress, an older woman with gray hair and tired eyes, refilled my coffee several times. Her blood smelled of medicine and illness—not my interest. But her kindness was genuine, almost maternal, remarkable in its sincerity. In my time, such people were called saints.
"Everything okay, hon?" she asked, noticing I was toying with the food more than eating—lifting the bun, setting aside the patty.
"Yeah, just… getting used to the local cuisine," I replied with a smile.
"Where you from? You've got an odd accent."
"Very far away," I said truthfully, though she couldn't grasp how far in time.
She nodded understandingly and moved to other tables, leaving me be. In the corner, an old TV muttered news. Most patrons ignored it, but suddenly the volume spiked, the anchor's voice sharpening.
"…triple murder at a university campus has shaken Los Angeles. Preliminary police reports indicate the suspect is a young woman, possibly a student…"
Several diners looked up, conversations hushing. I turned slowly to the screen, a cold stir in my mind.
The broadcast showed a city official—a middle-aged man in a suit, his face grim.
"Last night, three students were found dead in their dorm rooms at the University of California," he said evenly. "The victims bore injuries suggesting extreme brutality."
A shiver ran down my spine—not fear, but anticipation. Deep in my consciousness, something resonated, like a distant bell in fog.
"The medical examiner reports all victims were exsanguinated," the official continued. "Their bodies also show… lacerations. It appears the killer acted in a state of extreme rage or under the influence of psychotropic substances."
Lacerations. I smirked, sipping coffee. Candy was learning fast, though she couldn't control her instincts. Newborns were always crueler than their maker—hunger consumed their minds, turning them animalistic.
But this wasn't a typical maker-progeny bond. What I felt was new, beyond my centuries of experience.
I sensed her presence in the city, a faint glow in the dark. Her emotions echoed to me—hunger, fear, rage, confusion. She was a few miles north, likely hiding in an abandoned building or sewer. Instinct drove her to avoid sunlight, though it couldn't harm her.
Strangest of all, I could glimpse her mind—not fully, but enough to catch fragments of thoughts and images. This was new. In the past, my creations were experiments, our bond limited to sensing their location. Now…
Hunger… so hungry… why do they scream? Why so much blood? Can't stop…
Her thoughts were chaotic, childlike. She didn't understand what had happened, acting on instinct. Three students fell to her uncontrollable hunger.
"The police urge citizens to avoid traveling alone at night," the official continued. "If you see suspicious activity, contact emergency services immediately. Also…"
Diners exchanged uneasy glances. An elderly couple at the counter whispered, a young mother clutched her child tighter.
"Lord, what's happening in this city," the waitress muttered, wiping a nearby table. "First those bloodless murders, now this. Like an epidemic of madness."
If she only knew how close she was to the truth.
I focused on my bond with Candy. Her presence was a quiet melody I could tune in or out at will. Curious. Perhaps centuries of confinement, infused with Gilgamesh's blood, altered my nature—not granting new powers but enhancing what I had? What else had changed?
Want to go home… where's home? Don't remember… only his eyes… red eyes… and cold…
She struggled to recall her human life, but memories slipped away like water through fingers. Transformation erased humanity, leaving only hunger and instinct. In days, she'd forget who she was, becoming a pure predator. A lesser High One—not like me, but above humans.
The TV showed photos of the victims—three smiling students, full of plans for futures now stolen. Hilarious. So young.
"The victims were Michael Chen, twenty, engineering student," the anchor listed. "Sarah Johnson, nineteen, literature major, and Robert Miller, twenty-one, pre-med."
Three lives ended in one night. Three families to receive grim news. I felt no guilt—humans were food, nothing more. But there was something… amusing. A former lesser taking her kin's lives.
Blood… everywhere… on walls, floors… why can't I stop?
Her thoughts grew clearer, as if she were learning to project them. Interesting. Most newborns lost their minds for weeks, but she was already thinking coherently.
"The police request reports of suspicious individuals, especially young women showing aggressive behavior or blood on their clothing," the official said.
I nearly laughed. They hunted her like a common psychopath, clueless about what they faced. Bullets wouldn't stop her, gas would be useless, and a mortal's strength was laughable against her power.
But if they caught her, she might reveal her maker. Newborns rarely remembered transformation details, but the risk existed. Killing her would be easy, though.
That man… beautiful man… he did something to me… why can't I remember him?
She tried piecing together our encounter, but it was blurry, like a dream. Good. The less she recalled, the better for me.
This bond, though, was a problem. If I could sense her, she might sense me. Sooner or later, she'd seek her creator.
"The mayor expressed condolences to the victims' families and assured residents that all police resources are dedicated to apprehending the perpetrator," the official concluded.
The screen switched to ads, and diners resumed their chatter, though tension lingered.
I finished my coffee, mulling the situation. Candy was a potential threat—not for her strength but her unpredictability. Newborns were wild animals, drawing unwanted attention to my presence. The Eternals might notice.
On the other hand, she distracted the police from the real killer. While they chased a crazed vampire girl, I could feed and regain strength.
Hungry… so hungry… need blood… fresh, warm blood…
Her hunger grew hourly. She'd hunt again soon, leaving more bodies. The city's chaos was rising, and it served me well.
I left money on the table and stood. The waitress waved.
"See you again, hon. Stay safe out there."
"Will do," I smiled. On the other side, where saints like you are dead.
Outside, the evening air hit my face. The sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky crimson. Night was coming—my time.
Candy's bond pulsed like a second heartbeat. She moved through the city, seeking prey. Her instincts drew her to crowded places—malls, bars, bus stops.
That man… he… he made me like this? His fault?
Glimmers of understanding flickered in her mind. Soon, she'd grasp what happened, and her actions would grow purposeful. Dangerous.
But for now, she was useful. Let the police chase a ghost while I rebuilt my strength and prepared for the Eternals.
My pocket buzzed—a phone I'd taken from a victim last night. Modern tech was useful, if unfamiliar. The screen flashed an emergency alert:
"ATTENTION! Due to an emergency situation, a curfew is in effect from 10:00 PM to 6:00 AM. Avoid leaving your home unless absolutely necessary."
Curfew. Interesting. The authorities were panicking. Candy's chaos was reaching the right scale.
I headed downtown, the night coming alive around me. Somewhere in the dark, my creation hunted, driven by hunger and rage. How long would she last before they found her?
Find him… must find that man… he knows what happened to me…
Her thoughts grew clearer, more focused. She was beginning to sense our bond, seeking answers. Unexpectedly fast for a newborn, but not critical. Let her search—I had time. If needed, I'd kill her.
The city sank into chaos, just what I needed. Chaos made hunting, hiding, and acting unseen easier.
Night was just beginning, and there was so much to do.
But first—dinner. I caught the scent of young blood nearby and smiled, fangs glinting in a shop window's reflection.
Los Angeles would reel from more killings tonight, then I'd leave. I needed a new place. Candy was just a tool in my hands—a tool of chaos. Let them chase her.
I'm coming for you… creator… I'll find you soon…
Her thoughts grew more insistent, a nagging whisper in my mind. Our bond strengthened by the hour.
Perhaps I should meet my creation face-to-face. If she survived. Explain her nature, guide her. Or not. I had other plans. One last hunt tonight, then the search begins. I didn't care what happened to her.
Those creatures had lived in peace too long. Time to remind them not to make mistakes—like leaving me alive.
High above Malibu, in a clear evening sky, a metallic figure in a gray suit maneuvered unsteadily between clouds. Jet engines in its palms and boots emitted bright blue flames, leaving glowing trails in the deepening dusk.
"Jarvis, the stabilizers are glitching," Tony Stark said, his voice tense through the suit's comms. "Left leg thruster's cutting out every thirty seconds."
"Sir, I strongly recommend aborting the test flight and returning for calibration," the AI replied in its impeccable accent. "The Mark prototype is unstable. Continuing risks critical system failure."
"Two more minutes, Jarvis. I'm getting the hang of it," Tony said, executing a sharp turn, feeling the suit respond to his movements. Despite the flaws, flying was exhilarating—like a childhood dream come true.
"Sir, your pulse is at one-forty. Adrenaline levels are critical. Perhaps you should—"
"It's not stress, Jarvis, it's thrill!" Tony laughed, pulling a loop. "When else will I feel like a bird?"
Suddenly, the left stabilizer failed, and the suit tilted into an uncontrolled spin. Tony tensed, fighting to regain balance, but the center of gravity was off.
"Jarvis, activate emergency stabilization now!"
"Engaging, sir. Correcting flight path."
The suit leveled out, but he'd lost significant altitude. Tony breathed heavily, sweat trickling inside the helmet.
"Maybe you're right about calibration," he admitted reluctantly. "Head home."
"Wise decision, sir. By the way, urgent news has come in that may interest you. I haven't reviewed it yet…"
"Play it."
A feed appeared on the helmet's left visor—a news studio, a tense anchor with a microphone.
"…emergency at Santa Monica Plaza mall. An unknown individual entered the building approximately twenty minutes ago. Witnesses report explosions, fire, and…" The anchor paused, receiving an update via earpiece. "Apologies, conflicting reports are coming in. Some claim to have seen… something inexplicable."
Tony frowned. After the recent murders and his own mistake, he paid closer attention to such news.
"Switch to live footage from the scene," he ordered.
The feed shifted—a shaky camera, likely a journalist's, near the mall. The building was partially ablaze, black smoke pouring from windows. People fled in panic, screams mingling with approaching sirens.
"Sir, the suit requires immediate calibration," Jarvis insisted. "Continued use could—"
"Quiet for a sec," Tony snapped, studying the footage.
A figure flew from a second-floor window—not jumped, thrown with immense force. It crashed into a parked car, clearly dead even through the camera.
"What the hell, that strength…"
"Sir, I strongly advise against intervention," Jarvis pressed. "The suit isn't combat-ready. Weapons systems are offline, armor minimal—"
"People are dying right now!" Tony banked sharply toward Los Angeles. "I don't care if it's terrorists, a freak, or that thing. I'm the only one who can get there faster than the cops."
"Sir, with current specs, your survival odds are—"
"Don't want the stats! Plot a course to the mall, max speed!"
The thrusters roared, propelling Tony through the night sky, leaving a fiery trail. The wind battered the helmet, the suit vibrating, but he didn't slow.
Fifteen minutes later, the burning mall came into view—a nightmare of flames, shattered glass, and thick smoke. Fire trucks and ambulances swarmed below, but no one entered the building.
"Jarvis, thermal scan. How many inside?"
"Scanning… Sir, readings are odd. Multiple heat signatures, but most are… static. Body temperatures below normal. Likely victims."
"Moving objects?"
"Several, sir. One signal moves at incredible speed. Body temperature… impossible. It spikes to critical levels, then drops near zero."
Tony didn't wait for more. He dove, crashing through the glass roof, showering debris and metal.
Landing in the central atrium, he instantly regretted it.
A slaughterhouse surrounded him. Bodies littered the floor in unnatural poses, blood pools reflecting flames. The air reeked of smoke, death, and something sweet and nauseating.
"Seal nasal vents. Activate filtration. God…" Tony whispered, scanning the carnage. Guts, bodies. Children and parents. Blood everywhere.
A sound came from behind a column—not a human scream, but a mix of animalistic growl and pained wail. Tony turned and saw… something.
It was once human. Charred beyond recognition, skin hanging in tatters, exposing muscle and bone. It moved on all fours with terrifying speed, its motions jerky, unnatural. Where a face should've been was a burned mass with two red glowing eyes.
"Found you, bastard," Tony said, activating repulsors. "Don't know what happened to you, but your killing spree ends now."
The creature faced him, emitting a sound that vibrated the suit's metal—a mix of rage, hunger, and almost human despair.
"Sir, exercise extreme caution," Jarvis warned. "Its biometrics don't match human norms. Heartbeat irregular, temperature fluctuating critically."
The creature lunged with blinding speed. Tony barely dodged, firing a repulsor blast. The energy beam hit, knocking it back several meters, but it rose, barely fazed.
"What the… Jarvis, that should've stopped it! We tested the data!"
"Sir, its regeneration exceeds projections. Damaged tissue heals anomalously fast. Strength also surpasses estimates…"
Indeed, the charred skin at the impact site began to mend, new tissue forming. The process was grotesque yet mesmerizing.
It attacked again, aiming to knock Tony down. Its claws—not human nails—whistled inches from his helmet. Tony engaged stabilizers, rising two meters.
"Try reaching me now!"
He fired a barrage from both hands, but the creature was agile, leaping between columns and debris, dodging most shots. Hits caused damage, but wounds closed in seconds.
"Sir, repulsor charge at thirty percent. At this rate, energy lasts five minutes."
"Then we end this fast!"
Tony dove, aiming to ram it, but it sidestepped. He crashed into a store window, shattering glass and toppling mannequins.
As he rose, the creature leaped onto his back. Its claws scraped the armor, leaving deep scratches.
"Shit! Jarvis, shake it off!"
"Activating emergency dislodge system."
The suit spun, generating centrifugal force, but the creature clung tight. Tony felt the metal deform under its claws.
"Sir, hull damage at critical levels. A few more seconds, and it'll breach!"
Desperate, Tony fired all stabilizers, rocketing upward and slamming back-first into the ceiling. The impact jarred him, but the creature lost its grip, flying off.
Landing, Tony saw a horrifying sight. The charred mass was regaining human features. Regeneration accelerated—skin regrew, hair reformed, a face took shape.
"This… impossible," he whispered.
The creature stood, nearly fully restored—a young woman, perhaps a student. Beautiful, save for red eyes burning with inhuman fire and gleaming fangs.
"Sir, biometrics stabilized but remain anomalous. This isn't him."
She looked at Tony, her expression a mix of hunger, rage, and odd sadness. Then she spoke, her voice eerily normal:
"You… you're not him. Where is he? The one who made me like this?"
"You mean a young guy?" Tony kept repulsors ready. "He did this to you?"
"Red eyes… cold hands… he made me a monster!" she screamed, the sound cracking remaining glass. "I don't remember who I was! Just hunger… endless hunger!"
"Listen, I don't know what happened, but killing innocents isn't the answer!"
"Innocents?" She laughed, a sound laced with madness. "Wasn't I innocent? I was a student! I had plans, dreams! Now what am I? A blood-craving monster!"
She lunged, but Tony was ready. He dodged and fired a precise repulsor shot to her chest. She flew ten meters, crashing into a store wall.
"Sir, repulsor charge at fifteen percent!"
"Got it!"
She rose, wounds healing again. Tony realized standard attacks were useless. Something drastic was needed.
"Jarvis, channel energy to the chest reactor. Prep a max-power pulse."
"Sir, that's extremely dangerous! Using the reactor as a weapon risks overload and explosion!"
"Worth the risk! Do it!"
She charged in a final desperate attack, claws aiming for his helmet. Tony unleashed a concentrated beam from the chest reactor—a blinding stream of pure energy, banishing shadows.
The beam pierced her, suspending her in its flow. Her face showed surprise, pain, and… relief.
"Thank you…" she whispered, the red fire in her eyes fading.
Her body collapsed, regeneration halted. In death, her face was peaceful, almost childlike. Seconds later, it shriveled, becoming a mummified husk, as if entombed for millennia.
"Reactor energy at critical minimum," Jarvis reported. "Immediate recharge needed."
Tony stood over her, panting. What was that? How was it possible? Regeneration, strength, speed—all in a young woman. He knew his enemy was extraordinary, but this…
"Jarvis, full scan of the body. I need to know what we're dealing with."
Crouching, he collected a small tissue sample.
"Scanning… Sir, results are limited. DNA is partially human but contains unknown sequences. Blood biochemistry deviates radically from norms. This could be a breakthrough in understanding physiology. If our theories are correct, this confirms the existence of species science deems mythical. A vampire."
Tony frowned. Mythical species? In his world of tech and science? A vampire?
Sirens grew louder—emergency services were finally approaching. Time to go. Too many questions, too few answers. Carrying the body, Tony flew from the burning mall. No one remained; survivors had fled, so it was time to return.
Hundreds of meters from the burning mall, on a twelve-story office building's roof, a dark figure watched. A man in an expensive suit sat in a chair inexplicably placed there, sipping red wine, observing with interest.
His red eyes glowed in the dark, lips curved in a satisfied smirk.
"Such a talented boy," he murmured, watching the metallic figure rise and depart. "Tony Stark—genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist… and now monster hunter. Killed my poor Candy. Pity."
He sipped his wine, savoring it. Not blood, but it had its charm.
"Wonder what he thought of my little experiment?" He chuckled, the sound carrying unnaturally across the roof. "Poor Candy. She played her role perfectly."
The bond with his newborn snapped at her death—sharp and painful, like a broken string. Expected. She was a tool, and tools break.
"The knight in iron armor," he raised his glass toward the retreating figure, "you've done me a great service. Now the city knows there are things science can't explain. Chaos, panic, fear—just what I need. They'll search in the light, while the dark hides what matters."
He stood and approached the roof's edge. Below, firefighters, police, and medics scrambled. Soon, feds or military would arrive, seeking answers.
Meanwhile, he'd continue his search.
"Well, Stark, you exceeded expectations," he said, finishing his wine and setting the glass on the railing. "Your tech is impressive. Perhaps I should turn you—your mind is remarkable. But not yet. Bigger matters await."
The wind ruffled his suit jacket, cool air refreshing. Stepping onto the roof's edge, he surveyed the city. A beautiful place, full of blood and freedom. Skyscrapers, cars, people. The ocean. Freedom after millennia of confinement was sweet. He closed his eyes, inhaling the city's scents—exhaust, food, sweat, fear, blood…
"City of Angels," he whispered. "Gorgeous. But too many junkies and stench."
With that, he leaped off the edge, blood-wings unfurling behind him—angelic, yet born of blood. He vanished into the night. Blood experiments had borne fruit; machines were no longer needed. First stop: New York. The world's business capital, where a contact hinted at vital information.