Kapitel 62: A breakfast Scene with a weird Vibe

The first rays of morning light slipped through the half-open kitchen window, dancing across the countertop cluttered with mismatched mugs and an untouched stack of bills. The air carried the rich, comforting scent of coffee—but there was something else, something... metallic.

I sat at the table, wearing nothing but a silky nightgown, lazily poking at a bowl of cereal like it had personally offended me. Across from me, Illyana perched on her chair like she owned the place, her fingers curled around a mug of blood. Yep, blood. Not coffee, not tea. Blood. It had this weird, hypnotic swirl to it, almost calming—if you ignored the whole "that came out of someone" factor.

"So," Illyana's voice broke the silence, smooth as honey but with a razor-sharp undertone, "what's the agenda today, my queen?" She leaned forward, her predatory eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that screamed "danger" in bold, flashing letters.

I fought the urge to squirm, because last night, this vampire had crossed a line. She'd sauntered into my bed, stark naked, claiming I hadn't "claimed" her yet. Talk about mixed signals. "Paying Blade a visit," I said, shoving another spoonful of cereal in my mouth like it could shield me from her scrutiny.

Illyana tilted her head, curiosity flickering across her face. "Blade? Who's that?"

"A daywalker," I explained, keeping it short and sweet. "Like you, but without the moral ambiguity. He walks in the sun, hunts vampires, and scares the undead crap out of your kind. If anyone has insight into this whole vampire hierarchy thing, it's him."

She nodded, thoughtful. Her mission was straightforward: hunt down bad vampires, establish a clan, and climb to the top. Simple, right? Except with Illyana, nothing was ever just simple.

Switching gears, she smiled—a slow, deliberate thing that made the room feel ten degrees hotter. "My queen," she murmured, her voice dipping lower, "you looked ravishing last night. When will you finally claim me as yours?"

I blinked. Hard. "Okay, wow. Bold for breakfast," I said, trying to focus on my cereal like it was the most fascinating thing in the universe. "You know, maybe tone down the perve just a smidge? I'm trying to start my day like a normal person."

"You are eating," she countered, her tone dropping into something dangerously seductive as her gaze swept over me. She took a slow sip of her blood, the motion deliberate, almost taunting. The smug satisfaction in her smirk was impossible to ignore.

I sighed, setting my spoon down. "Illyana, if you keep this up, I'm putting garlic in your next mug."

Her laugh was dark, melodic, and entirely too pleased with itself. "As you wish, my queen. But remember…" Her eyes glinted mischievously. "Garlic doesn't work on me."

Across the table, Karen Page, who'd been eerily quiet so far, stared at me over the rim of her coffee cup. Her gaze wasn't exactly subtle, flicking between my face and... lower regions. I fought the urge to roll my eyes. Fantastic. Two of them. Apparently, today's agenda was "turn Kara into a flustered mess before breakfast."

I cleared my throat, trying to steer the vibe back to normal human interaction. "Uh, Karen," I started awkwardly, "how's your—uh, thing? You know, with Fisk?"

Karen blinked like she'd just been caught red-handed, snapping out of whatever trance she'd fallen into. "Fisk? Oh, right. Yeah, uh..." She fidgeted, her awkward smile doing little to cover how distracted she was. "Sarah found out where Fisk is. She's gonna, uh... handle it. Today."

Sure, Sarah was handling things. Probably not in the way Karen wanted me to think about. My cheeks heated at the thought. "Uh-huh. Yeah, sure. Sarah's great at 'handling things.' Especially in my bed!" My tone was dry enough to make Karen choke on her toast.

Before she could respond, the door creaked open, and speak of the devil—Sarah stumbled in. She wore a rumpled red hoodie dress, her hair a disaster zone, and the kind of exhausted expression that screamed "I had a Deadpool-level night."

"Morning, sunshine!" I said, a little too chipper. "Did you jump into bed fully clothed, or are you just getting back?"

"Ugh," Sarah grunted, rubbing her eyes as she collapsed into the chair next to Karen. "Don't talk to me before coffee." She reached for the pot, her hand hovering like she was willing it to pour itself.

I snickered. "So, did you actually find Fisk last night, or were you too busy dragging Deadpool around in Hell's Kitchen?"

Sarah glared, looking about as impressed as a cat at bath time. "Wow, Kara. You're a comedic genius. Truly. I'm rolling in laughter right now."

I leaned back, smirking. "Hey, I'm not the one who makes over-the-top promises to women just to get them in bed."

Karen sputtered into her coffee, coughing violently, but before things could escalate, Illyana chimed in, her voice a honeyed purr. "Oh, my queen, don't pretend you're above it all. Surely Queen Persephone might have a different perspective?"

I whipped my head toward her, scowling. "Don't start."

But Illyana wasn't done. She gave Sarah a once-over, her lips curling into a mischievous grin. "How delightful. The fake queen and the true queen, sharing coffee at last. So, fake queen," she purred, locking eyes with Sarah, "when are you going to start acting like one? You've been slacking on your Underworld duties, darling."

Sarah nearly choked on her cereal. "Excuse me? You think Persephone's going to murder me first? What about Kara here?" She jabbed a finger in my direction.

Illyana didn't miss a beat, flashing her sharp grin. "Oh, sweet Sarah, Persephone might try... but she knows better. Kara doesn't die so easily."

I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Great. My morning coffee just turned into a death-threat brunch. Fantastic."

Karen was still in her own little world, stealing glances at me when she thought no one was paying attention. Her awkward attempt at breaking the silence only made things worse. "So," she began, voice tentative, "what's the deal with you two? I mean, I thought Phoenix Biopharm's CEO had just one daughter?"

I glanced at Sarah, who was deeply engrossed in studying her coffee mug like it contained the answer to world peace. I sighed, reluctantly stepping in. "We're twins," I said flatly. "Sarah's shy. Likes to stay out of the spotlight."

"Oh... okay?" Karen's tone screamed not buying it, but thankfully, she didn't press further.

Illyana, of course, couldn't resist adding to the chaos. She let out a slow, wicked laugh, revealing her fangs—still glistening with blood. "How delightfully awkward," she murmured, savoring the tension like it was a gourmet meal.

Karen just blinked at her, unfazed. By now, she'd seen so much weirdness in this house that a vampire in the kitchen barely registered. She muttered, "Sure, why not add a vampire to the mix? Next, I'll meet a toaster that does taxes."

I pinched the bridge of my nose, already feeling the migraine forming. "Anyway, Sarah," I said, steering the conversation back on track, "how's the whole 'evil kingpin of New York' project going?"

Sarah leaned back in her chair, finally looking up from her mug. "Hmm. Probably dealing with him tonight," she said like she was deciding between ordering takeout or cooking.

"Uh-huh, but what's the plan? Get rid of him?" I pressed.

Sarah shook her head thoughtfully. "I don't know. As much as it pains me to admit, he's a necessary evil. Hell's Kitchen's a mess, especially so after the Chitauri invasion. Alien weapons, organized crime—it will be a chaos. Someone like Fisk, for all his faults, keeps a semblance of order."

"So?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm thinking... controlled chaos," Sarah said with a sly grin. "Keep him on a tight leash. Puppet-master style."

I tilted my head, intrigued. "Funny. That's exactly how I'm going to handle the vampire problem in New York. Guess the twin thing isn't just a myth."

Karen snorted, clearly not convinced. "Sure. Twins." Her smirk was as sharp as Illyana's fangs.

"Uh-huh." I ignored her. "How's the job going, Karen? Oh wait, never mind—you don't have one anymore."

Karen sighed dramatically. "Yeah, thanks for the reminder, Kara. Maybe I'll take up knitting. Or join a circus. Anything to avoid this... whatever this is." She gestured vaguely around the kitchen before glancing at Illyana, who was sipping her blood like she was watching the best soap opera ever made.

"Don't mind me," Illyana purred, her smile slow and dangerous. "Just... enjoying the show."

I groaned, dropping my head into my hands. "This is my life now, isn't it?"

Suddenly, I remembered something. "Hey, Karen, how's your training going? Sarah said she's been working with you so you can protect yourself."

Karen grimaced. "Oh, it's great," she deadpanned. "If the goal is to beat me up, then yeah, Sarah's nailing it."

Sarah shrugged, unapologetic. "Sorry, sweetheart. You're just not strong enough yet. But I might have a shortcut." She turned to me, her tone casual but her eyes calculating. "Kara, can I borrow one of your supersoldier serums? It'd speed up Karen's progress."

"Uh, what now?" I asked, narrowing my eyes. "Karen, is this what you want?"

Karen hesitated, then nodded with determination. "Yes. I'm tired of feeling helpless. I want to be able to protect myself."

I leaned back, crossing my arms. "Look, I get that, but the transformation isn't exactly a walk in the park. It's painful. Dangerous. You might not even survive it."

Karen met my gaze, unwavering. "I trust you. You wouldn't let anything happen to me."

I sighed, already regretting this conversation. "Fine. But for now, keep training. Your body needs to be strong enough first. No shortcuts until then."

Karen smiled faintly, her determination flickering behind her usual uncertainty.

Illyana leaned in, her voice dripping with amusement. "How charming. A mortal with the will of a queen. You may yet surprise us, Karen."

I glared at Illyana. "Not helping."

"I'm off to bed. Good luck with your vampire problem!" Sarah announced, pushing back her chair.

Karen shot a sharp glance her way, then at me. "Oh no, you're not. Shower first. You're not getting into our bed like that." She was already on her feet, following Sarah out of the kitchen.

Illyana smirked, leaning back with that trademark smugness. "Trouble in paradise?"

I couldn't help but shake my head. "Well, that answers that question," I muttered, mostly to myself. Then, turning to Illyana, I said, "Alright, let's get back to soul synchronization. After that, I need to keep working on Project Storm. Can't wait to see if I can snag some of those vampire powers of yours."

Illyana's grin widened, and her eyes sparkled with mischief. "Oh, I love this test, my queen. Shall we do it naked this time?"

I groaned, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Seriously, Illyana. Can you not be such a perv for, like, five minutes?"

...

Later that day, I wrapped up work on Project Storm and slid into my Audi, the engine purring to life like it was eager for a mission. Ava's voice crackled through the speakers, guiding me down a winding, deserted highway. The destination? A lonely cliff overlooking a decrepit warehouse straight out of a dystopian movie set.

I glanced at my reflection in the rearview mirror and smirked. Today's outfit? Inspired by Sarah's tech, my female version of Archer EMIYA outfit, but with my twist—a hooded red cloak draped over a sleek combat suit made from graphene-carbon nanotube composite. No more relying on magical projections or flashy Astral Dresses. Sure, those looked amazing, but mid-fight, if the magic fizzled? Instant wardrobe malfunction. No thanks, being but-naked in a fight. This suit wasn't just practical—it was reinforced with nanobot weaving and could take a hit without me losing my dignity. Magic could boost it, not define it.

"I must admit Sarah did a good job with this, it's behind the composite material I am working on when it comes to stopping power, but nothing that magic can't handle," I mused getting out of the car.

The cliff loomed ahead, the warehouse below bathed in shadow. With Ava confirming the coordinates, I didn't bother looking for a door. Instead, I vaulted off the edge, letting gravity do its thing.

Crash!

The roof caved in beneath me as I landed, knees bent, fist to the ground—a textbook superhero landing. The impact sent a cloud of dust swirling through the air, and I straightened slowly, smirking. Yeah, that entrance was definitely a ten.

"Stay where you are! Move another inch, and I'll shoot!"

The voice was gruff, frayed with age, and the kind of weariness that came from living on the edge for too long.

I turned slowly, hands raised, and spotted him—an older man, rough around the edges, holding a double-barreled shotgun. His stance was firm despite favoring one leg.

I tilted my head, keeping my voice steady but non-threatening. "Hey, Grandpa, is this the part where you yell 'Get off my lawn'? Because technically, I just fell through your roof."

His eyes narrowed, and his grip tightened on the shotgun. "Don't get cute, lady. I've seen things you wouldn't believe. Another step, and I'll turn you into Swiss cheese."

I raised an eyebrow, keeping my hands up. "Okay, fair. But before you make me holy, maybe we could chat?"

His finger hovered over the trigger, and for a moment, I wasn't sure if he'd fire. Then, he muttered, "Damned kids. Fine. Talk fast."

"You're squatting in this warehouse, I'm guessing you've got dirt on the guys I'm hunting."

He didn't lower the shotgun, but something in his eyes shifted—curiosity, maybe. "And who exactly are you hunting?"

I smirked again, pulling my hood back to reveal my face fully. "The kind of monsters that make your worst nightmares look like bedtime stories. You want to shoot me for crashing your pad, fine. But I think we both know you've got bigger problems."

"Get to the point!"

"I'm here to find Blade," Kara said, her voice steady, hands raised in an open, non-threatening gesture. She was used to making entrances, but this old man was a different kind of challenge.

His eyes narrowed behind the shotgun, still trained on my chest. "Who the hell are you, and what do you want with Blade? You with the vamps?"

I shook her my quickly, trying to ease the tension. "No, no, no. Nothing like that. I'm just looking for some information."

Before the old man could respond, a figure emerged from the shadows, the faint light reflecting off a pair of dark sunglasses that looked like they could've been made from pure mystery. The air seemed to shift around him—cool, controlled. "You're the woman from last night?"

It was Blade, and I didn't need any introductions to recognize the deadly presence.

"That's me," I confirmed, giving him a nod. There was a brief pause before I couldn't help but ask, "How the hell do you even see in this place with those shades on?"

His response was as blunt as it was effective—two middle fingers thrown up in my direction, not a flicker of emotion on his face.

I chuckled. "Alright, real classy. That's not a nice gesture to a lady, you know."

Blade didn't acknowledge me, just kept his steely gaze fixed on me. The old man glanced at him, a silent exchange passing between them before Blade gave a slight nod. The message was clear: let me talk.

I stepped forward, sensing the shift in energy. "Alright, enough joking around," I said, cutting through the tension with a tone that brooked no argument. "I've got questions, and you guys seem to have the answers."

The old man finally lowered the shotgun a few inches, though he didn't fully trust me. Blade? He didn't move an inch, still sizing me up.

I wasted no time. I launched straight into it, asking every question I had about the vampire network, their movements, who was pulling the strings, and what they were up to. Blade answered in brief, clipped sentences, and the old man threw in the occasional grunt of affirmation. These two didn't trust me easily, but they weren't about to shut me down either.

When I was done, I reached into an inner pocket of my cloak and pulled out a small metallic device—sleek, no larger than a matchbox. I tossed it effortlessly across the space, the object landing with a soft clink on a nearby surface, right in front of the old man.

He eyed it cautiously, his suspicion not entirely gone. "What's this?"

"A little gift," I replied with a smirk. "Some gadgets I whipped up. Might come in handy against those light-hating creeps you're always dealing with. Consider it a thank you."

Blade watched me for a long moment, then, surprisingly, gave me a slight nod of acknowledgment. His stance shifted just enough to show he wasn't completely opposed to this alliance. The old man didn't look convinced, but he knew better than to turn down useful tools.

"Thanks," the old man grunted, though it was clear he wasn't quite ready to throw me a parade.

I tilted my head, sensing the guardedness. "No need for thanks. I'm not here to make friends. I'm here to get what I need. And right now, you're the ones with the answers."

...

With that, Kara turned on her heel and disappeared into the shadows, vanishing as quickly and quietly as she had appeared. It was like she was part of the darkness now, an enigma in motion.

Blade stood there for a moment longer, his eyes following the faintest trace of her departure. A long, thoughtful pause followed before he spoke, his voice carrying an edge of reluctant respect. "Whistler, that woman took out more than sixty of those things last night."

Whistler, still watching the space where Kara had been, grunted in acknowledgment but didn't look surprised. Instead, he picked up the small metallic object Kara had left behind. The sleek USB drive gleamed under the dim light, almost out of place in the otherwise grimy surroundings. Whistler fumbled with it for a moment before sliding it into a laptop that appeared from a hidden compartment in the wall. The machine hummed to life with a low buzz, its screen flickering briefly before displaying a list.

"UV Grenades," Whistler muttered, scanning the list with a raised eyebrow. "Ion Cutter Gun. Silver Nitrate Rounds. Sunlight Emitter."

He glanced up at Blade, his expression a mix of curiosity and skepticism. "Who the hell is this woman, anyway? And where the hell does she get all this stuff?"

Blade remained silent for a beat, his gaze fixed on the screen, his jaw tight. He wasn't one to hand out compliments easily, but something about Kara had struck a chord. He knew a thing or two about fighting vampires—and about people who knew how to keep the darkness at bay. Whoever she was, she wasn't just playing at this fight.

Whistler nodded slowly. "Seems like she's well-equipped to deal with the dark, that's for sure."

Blade finally spoke, his voice gravelly. "Yeah, and I'm guessing she's just getting started. Someone like that... she doesn't stop. Whatever she's after, it's bigger than just taking down a few bloodsuckers."

Whistler shot him a questioning look. "You think she's the type to stick around long-term?"

Blade didn't answer immediately. Instead, he stared into the shadows, his mind working through the possibilities. "I don't know, Whistler. But something tells me we'll be seeing a lot more of her."