Chapter 132

Behind a car wreck, Natasha rolled aside to dodge a bat's lunge, then fired a strangely shaped gun at it.

Instantly, blue ice crystals crawled up the bat's body, expanding into a block of ice; the frozen bat crashed to the ground like a specimen.

Natasha shook her hand and said, "I have to admit, this thing is more useful than I thought—the trajectory of these ice spikes is surprisingly accurate."

On the other side of the road, Hawkeye was coordinating with Daisy; Daisy slapped the wall of a high-rise, and the bats huddled on its rooftop took flight in a flurry.

Hawkeye nocked a uniquely shaped arrow, aimed at the flying bats, drew his bow fully, and released a bright blue arrow streaking through the air with ice crystals.

In an instant, the freezing ice exploded into a whirlwind of frost; all the bats were instantly encased in ice, and when they hit the ground, the ice shattered, splitting them into several pieces.

Hawkeye walked over to inspect, and Daisy joined him; she crouched down, fiddling with the ice blocks, and said, "Incredible—their regenerative abilities can't activate at all."

"They're completely frozen—there's no room for regeneration. The person who thought of this is a genius," Hawkeye said.

Natasha spoke over the radio: "Director George told us to finish clearing the flanks, then head to the front line—the giant lizard's transformation is about to wear off, and we need to get there in time."

She smashed open a car door, got inside, and Hawkeye and Daisy climbed in; the three sped toward the front line.

Near the Brooklyn Bridge, as the sun rose, the vampires' assault weakened; Connors' scales began fading, and his body shrank.

He leapt to the back of a high-rise and hid, slowly reverting to human form.

Beside him, Spider-Man swung over and tossed him a backpack. "Doctor! Clothes!"

"Thanks," Connors said. His lizard traits hadn't fully vanished—his eyes were still vertical pupils, and faint scales lingered on his cheeks, making him look strange—but Peter said, "Doctor, don't ever do anything this dangerous again. Who knows if that serum might…"

"As a researcher, you should have faith in your own creation. I believe everything remains within controllable limits."

Peter scratched his head. "Alright, I'll take you back now. Dr. Schiller seems to want to see you."

"That ice gun—you made it?"

"Uh… not entirely. I just made some improvements."

"I've noticed you have a rare talent for cutting costs," Dr. Connors praised. "You actually turned this miraculous weapon into something mass-producible. How'd you do it?"

Peter gave a wry smile. "Probably because I'm broke."

In Stark Tower's lab, when Connors entered, Schiller and Stark were already waiting. Connors said, "The battlefield situation has improved—it's daytime now—but tonight will be rough."

From what I've seen, the mastermind behind the vampires is still gathering strength—he's brought in another wave of bats, probably planning a full-scale attack tonight.

"Nick just called. The vampires want to negotiate."

"It's a delaying tactic," Connors said. "Can't Nick see that? Negotiate? What's the point of all those troop movements into Brooklyn then?"

"We all know their goal, but humans have plenty of idiots," Stark said.

"They're not idiots—they're profiteers," Schiller said. "Those who sell their race's interests for personal gain, those who plan defeat before victory, those who are superstitious and terrified—there are so many humans like that. A few oddballs aren't surprising."

"What did Nick say? Are we really going to negotiate?" Connors sat down and poured himself a glass of water.

"In the past, this might have worked—we've fought enough, neither side wants further losses. The vampires started the war, so they're in the wrong, but humans are at a disadvantage; both sides are roughly even. Now it's just about carving up gains at the negotiation table."

Connors pursed his lips. "Sure. Everyone's happy. No one cares about frontline casualties."

"But I mean—that was the past. This time might be different."

"What possible turning point? I think the people in Congress just don't want to fight anymore," Connors said. "They're even demanding police stop using area suppression. What the hell is that?"

Schiller pulled out a remote and turned on a screen in the lab; it displayed live news.

One side showed a reporter; the other, a congressman, passionately declaring: "We will fight these monsters to the end! Humanity will not retreat an inch! He wants to sit down and talk? I'll tell them—it's too late! They must pay the price…"

"Hmm. Is this the hardline hawk faction?" Connors asked.

Schiller switched channels with the remote. A fatter, more prosperous politician sat on a sofa: "We should view this invasion rationally. Yes, the vampires struck first, but I believe there may be reasons behind it—they might have legitimate grievances. Humanity should pay attention…"

Before he finished, his phone rang. "Excuse me, I need to take this."

Fantasy

A moment later, the fat politician returned and said, "I just received devastating news. Yes…"

He waved his fist. "These monstrous creatures have killed thousands of police officers! This is a horrific atrocity! An unjust war! We must fight them to the end! Listen, you damned monsters—I'm telling you right now—you're dead!"

"What happened to him? Why…?"

Schiller switched channels again. This interview featured a major figure—the background was the White House office. The interviewee said: "We regret this invasion, but the blood of the fallen cannot be wasted. The vampires' violence will face justice. The President vows to stand with every citizen, face this disaster head-on, and never retreat…"

"What's going on?" Connors asked, baffled. "Why are their statements suddenly so uniform—and so aggressive?"

Schiller wasn't the only one confused.

In a dim basement, the radical vampire leader Deacon told his subordinates: "Find out what's happening! Our lobbying was working—why have these damn humans suddenly flipped their stance?"

He cursed under his breath: "My plan was working. If we just held out until daylight, humanity would have no reserves left. Move! Investigate immediately! What the hell is going on?!"

In S. . . . . .'s office, Nick and Pierce shook hands. Pierce said, "We haven't seen each other in a long time, but small talk can wait."

"Can you control this supply chain? My position on the Security Council needs your support. If S. . . . . . can secure a supply chain independent of other factions, it benefits both of us."

"This chain can only be controlled by us—it involves supernatural beings. I'm confident I can persuade Osborn, Stark, and I to jointly maintain it and resist pressure from other factions."

"Best if so," Pierce concluded. "Even ignoring future potential, just the vampire and immortality tech supply chain alone could bring unimaginable profits. It's a cornerstone of world peace—we must seize it at all costs. I know you can do it, Nick."

"Of course. We already have the preliminary plan from Osborn. Honestly, the person who thought this up is a genius. The mystery and visible traits of supernatural beings are enough to draw investors with piles of cash."

"Now the plan's set. We need to push them into production fast. Don't forget—the war's still raging. If we can produce the first batch before the vampires are fully wiped out, everything after will be easier."

Pierce clapped Nick on the shoulder. "Don't worry about upfront costs—I think we can go even more aggressive. Bribe the fence-sitters, silence them with cash. The main goal is rapid implementation."

"Relax. Even if S. . . . . . does nothing, those who see the massive profits will naturally persuade their colleagues."

"Which factions have confirmed joining?"

"The southern office…"

Nick pointed left. Pierce said, "Of course them—the hardline left-wing warmongers. They're natural allies."

"Alright, I won't keep you. I know you still need to win over more allies."

"Oh, and I heard new ice weapons appeared on the front line. Can you get me one? I'm curious."

"No problem. Those are Stark Industries' emergency-produced ice guns—codenamed Blizzard. I can get you a set. I haven't seen one myself."

After Pierce left, Nick called Schiller. "Are you sure the Security Council won't get suspicious? The timing of that bat monster's appearance is too convenient."

"And it showed up once and vanished instantly. Won't that raise eyebrows?"

"Didn't you agree with this plan when we made it?" Schiller's voice was slow—he was clearly exhausted from staying up all night.

Nick sighed slightly. "If we waited for them to flood into New York and prepare for full-scale invasion, we'd be too passive. Casualties would be worse."

"We had to strike first, lure them out. I just feel this plan was too rushed—there are bound to be loose ends."

"That's your problem. You're the mastermind behind this whole 'Bat Deity Descent' drama. I'm just a stagehand."

Nick chuckled. "A stagehand? That's amusing. I've never heard that before. You're probably every director's dream stagehand."

"You're a good director too, Director Nick. Let's cooperate."

"Cooperate."

————Extra Notes————

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