197 What are you?
At that moment, the exit shuttle rapidly closed, and all the employees who were still on the ground floor dashed into the nearest room partition within the building. Once everyone had taken shelter, the shutters promptly sealed, preventing anyone from entering.
Frankie was startled by the systematic response of the employees as they quickly found shelter nearby. It was the first time he had witnessed such a high level of vigilance in a business building – it was abnormal!
Indeed, it was abnormal. Since Daniel had offended many individuals within the Hightower, he had anticipated that they might send someone to attack his building. Furthermore, after the previous incident with a thief breaking into his building, he had overhauled the security system, upgrading it to an extreme degree. The building was now akin to a fortress.
Boom!
An armored car crashed into the entrance, breaking through the shutter that sealed it. The occupants of the armored car were heavily armed with powerful weapons.
"Are you okay, Frankie?" one of the men from the armored car asked, genuine concern in his voice.
"No, but this place is very strange... I have a very bad feeling about this. Let's get out of here," Frankie replied, his instincts warning him that something terrible was about to happen. Even though the entrance shutter and the room partitions were ordinary and could be easily broken through by a powerful vehicle, this particular situation filled him with unease, an ominous sensation settling in his heart.
"Detecting heavy weaponry... Level 2 Defense Protocol Initiated," a cold, electronic female voice from the security system resounded throughout the expansive lobby of the building.
Clank!
At that moment, black steel plates extended from the ground and sealed the entrance, along with all the room partitions.
Clank! Clank! Clank! Clank! Clank! Clank!
One by one, the black iron plates sealed off all entrances, trapping all intruders within the main hall of the building.
Frankie and his group were alarmed and quickly readied their weapons. Approximately 100 people, including Frankie and his men, as well as the freelancers who were solely motivated by money and had hoped to make a fortune by killing General Sullivan before the day's end, found themselves trapped.
The hall descended into a palpable silence, an eerie stillness that seemed to press upon Frankie and his gang. The ambient sounds of the building's ventilation and electricity had hushed, leaving only the faint echo of their own breathing. Tension hung in the air like a heavy fog, and the intruders exchanged uneasy glances.
Then, from the shadows emerged a figure, stepping forward with a casual grace that belied the gravity of the situation. The leather soles of his shoes whispered against the polished marble floor, each step echoing ominously in the quiet hall.
A middle-aged man, shrouded in an aura of enigma, made his entrance. His charismatic mustache framed a visage that exuded both charm and disquiet. Adorned in a resplendent red suit, it starkly contrasted against his jet-black shirt and blood-red tie. The intensity of these crimson hues sent shivers cascading down the spines of all who laid eyes upon him. This magnetic figure was none other than Vlad Dracula.
With a regal composure, Vlad Dracula cleared his throat and commenced his introduction with the grace of aristocracy. "I am Vlad Tepes the third," he proclaimed, his voice resonating with the weight of centuries, "also known as Vlad Dracula, at your service."
His words, suffused with an ancient authority, washed over Frankie and his gang. However, the solemnity was disrupted by an abrupt eruption of laughter that reverberated oddly in the eerie stillness of the hall.
"Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha!!"
"Vlad Dracula? Seriously? Is this some kind of Halloween prank?" Frankie scoffed, sporting a smirk as he dismissed Vlad's introduction as a jest.
In response, Vlad Dracula's countenance bore a subtle, enigmatic smile. He remained composed, his eyes radiating an uncanny luminescence that hinted at a lurking monstrosity concealed beneath the veneer of a charismatic man.
As Vlad Dracula stood there, a freelance operative who knew about the Curtained World began to draw unsettling comparisons between the figure before him and the creatures he had seen in his knowledge of the supernatural beings. He observed Vlad's charismatic presence, the eerie aura that seemed to cling to him like a shroud, and those blood-red eyes that held a deep and insatiable thirst for human blood, hidden just beneath the surface.
Trembling in fear, the freelancer instinctively clutched the cross hanging around his neck, a symbol of protection against the unholy.
"Oooh? I didn't expect you to truly know about me," Vlad remarked, amused at the meager display of faith from the freelancer as he walked closer.
"Okay, jokes over. Tell us where General Sullivan is and open the damn sealed entrance for us too," one of Frankie's gangsters demanded impatiently.
However, Vlad simply ignored the request. The impatient gang member's frustration reached a breaking point, and he fired his weapon at Vlad, the bullet striking him in the head.
Bang!
But to the shock and horror of everyone present, Vlad's head merely shook, and the bloody wound healed at an unnatural speed. Within a matter of seconds, it had closed up completely.
A collective gasp of fear and disbelief filled the hall. Vlad's display of supernatural resilience sent a chilling message to the gangsters: they were in the presence of something far beyond their comprehension, a force that defied the laws of nature.
Vlad slowly turned toward the gangster who had shot him. There was no anger or resentment within his eyes; instead, they held a sense of playfulness, like a cat toying with its prey. But beyond that, there was an unmistakable hunger and insatiability, as if he had just glimpsed a delicious meal after starving for a long time.
"That was rude," Vlad remarked before his body vanished, reappearing in front of the gangster in an instant. His jaw widened, revealing rows of teeth that had transformed into sharp fangs. Like a hungry lion, he savagely bit into the gangster's neck. Blood splattered and poured onto the ground before every drop within the gangster's body had been consumed and absorbed by Vlad.
The gruesome scene played out in front of the horrified gangsters, causing them to retreat. However, all of the entrances had sealed shut, trapping them with this monstrous entity.
"Fire! Kill it!" Frankie shouted in fear.
As if a dam had burst open, the sound of gunfire filled the hall. They didn't care about conserving ammunition; they unleashed a relentless hail of bullets at the monster that was savoring the blood of their comrade. Every bullet found its mark, yet the monster showed no signs of stopping, laughing at the futile attempts of these insignificant mortals before him.
"Ha ha ha ha… HAHAHAHAHA!" Vlad's laughter filled the air as he dropped the lifeless body of the gangster to the ground. Without a moment's hesitation, he rushed toward the nearest gangsters. His nails transformed into sharp claws, resembling a set of five deadly blades as they descended upon the neck of the unfortunate gangster in front.
"Ahhhhhh!"
Screams echoed through the hall as another gangster fell victim to the Vampire Lord. His blood was drawn through the claw, swiftly consumed, and absorbed into Vlad's insatiable body.
Then the relentless bloodbath ensued, Vlad claimed the lives of each gangster and freelancer one after another, their frantic pleas and futile attempts at resistance only fueling his insatiable appetite. The hall became a nightmarish realm of death, echoing with the cacophony of gunfire and the agonized screams of those who met their gruesome end.
As the life force drained from each victim, Vlad reveled in the taste of human blood after centuries of abstinence. His once-regal demeanor gave way to unrestrained savagery, a monstrous hunger that knew no bounds.
The gangsters, once swaggering with confidence, were now reduced to trembling, terrified souls. Their desperate cries for mercy fell on deaf ears as Vlad tore through them with a ferocity that defied mortal comprehension.
"Please! No, God, no!" one gangster pleaded in sheer terror as Vlad closed in for the kill.
"I-I don't wanna die like this!" another screamed, his voice choked with dread.
"M… M… Monster!"
"HAHAHAHA!! Yes! That's me, a monster! And what are you!?" Vlad's laughter, filled with sadistic delight, mingled with the wails of the dying as he asked the question.
"Are you trash?"
Splash!!
"Are you a dog?"
Splash!!
"Or are you a monster?"
Splash!!
With each question, the brutal splatter of death followed, reducing the gangsters to nothing more than blood, gore, and entrails that littered the floor and walls. Every gangster and freelancer met their gruesome end at Vlad's hands, except for Frankie Santono and the Freelancer who knew his true nature.
Vlad approached the remaining Freelancer, his body drenched in blood, his face contorted into a grotesque grin.
"Oh, what are you?" He asked in an eerie voice.
The Freelancer didn't answer. He could only manage a broken smile before he raised the gun to his temple.
Bang!
Out of extreme fear, the Freelancer committed suicide, losing all semblance of sanity.
"Tch…" Vlad clicked his tongue as the amusement was deprived from him. His mood soared, but it helped him regain his guise of a gentleman. Then, all the corpses, entrails, limbs, blood, and gore that had littered the floor transformed into a sea of blood, unnaturally converging toward Vlad, cleansing every trace of the gruesome carnage as if it had never occurred.
Vlad's body was now clean from head to toe, and his once-bloodied red luxury suit gleamed brightly, its vibrant red color seemingly restored by the blood of his victims.
Now, the monster in the guise of a charismatic middle-aged man turned toward his last prey: Frankie Santono. Frankie's face was a canvas of fear and horror, his body half-laying, half-sitting on the ground, his face streaked with tears and snot.
Vlad displayed a gentle smile and slowly walked toward Frankie Santono.
"And you, sir… What are you?" Vlad asked in a tone befitting an aristocrat. But the question he posed made the floor soaked as a yellow liquid leaked out of Frankie's pants, causing Vlad's face to distort in disgust.
New novel 𝓬hapters are published on (f)reeweb(n)ovel.com