Chapter 137: R: The Bat Event (14)

Venom didn't answer, and Peter didn't care—he was used to Venom disappearing at random. He looked down at his hands; the black suit was undeniably elegant, a deep, solemn beauty compared to its earlier flashy colors.

More importantly, this color let him blend into shadows, making him harder to spot—at least visually.

If those vampires had been chasing him because of his appearance, they wouldn't anymore, Peter thought.

But the outcome didn't improve—he was still being relentlessly chased by a horde of insane vampires. Even as Spider-Man nearly escaped Brooklyn, numerous high-level vampires with teleportation abilities kept dogging his heels.

Peter wasn't just running away; he was executing a tactical maneuver. He swung between buildings and hung beneath one, forcing the vampires to converge into its shadow to reach him. The surrounding structures cast no overlapping shadows—only this small patch of darkness offered cover.

Most vampires, driven by instinct, teleported directly into that patch of wall shadow. Spider-Man, hanging above, saw them all clustered there and dropped a Blizzard Deployment Device—freezing them all solid.

Then he slid down his webline into the midst of the frozen vampires, glancing left and right, finding nothing unusual.

He picked up a crowbar nearby and smashed the ice encasing the head of one vampire who looked rational.

"Why are you chasing me?" Peter asked.

The vampire glared at him viciously. "You are the sacrifice designated by Lord Bat! You damned human! I will catch you, drain your blood, and present you to the Great Bat Lord!! He will lead us to rule this world!!!"

Peter nearly froze. "The Bat Lord designated me as a sacrifice? I don't even know your god. Why me?"

But the vampire kept repeating "Great Bat Lord." Peter questioned him at length but extracted no useful information.

Peter considered this itself a clue, so he called Shearer and told him everything that had just happened.

In Stark Tower's lab, Shearer held the phone, speaking with Nick. "I've formed some hypotheses—the Bat Lord's guardian is real."

156n.

Nick frowned. "So there really is a Bat Lord? We've monitored vampires for years and never seen this so-called Bat Lord appear. Why now, of all times?"

"And as I recall, during the battle in the East, they were crushed—nearly half were exterminated. Where was their Bat Lord then?"

"You and I both know no true god could descend into this world."

Nick sensed Shearer's implication. "But you say the Bat Lord's guardian is real."

"Yes—but he's not the Bat Lord's guardian at all. Simply put, those bats were fooled."

Shearer said, "You've seen this before. Powerful supernatural beings use the name of a god to gather followers or achieve some goal."

"True. We've handled plenty of fake god manifestations—most were monsters pretending to be deities. So this is no different? Then who exactly are they?"

"I have some theories, but nothing confirmed. Regardless of who it is, there's only one solution…"

"What's that?"

"Have you traced where that network cable leads yet?"

Nick paused. "Are you sure this will work? I checked—the place is guarded, but only by ordinary members…"

"That's enough. From what I know, their boss tolerates no incompetence."

Outside 177 Manhattan, a young man in a hoodie stepped out and shouted, "Mrs. Eadis! Why is my internet down?"

A head popped up from the opposite building—a thin woman with wild, frizzy curls. "How should I know? Did you pay your bill?"

"Impossible! I paid a week ago!"

Soon, another man, slightly overweight, poked his head out of 177. "Not just the internet—why's the power out too? What's going on?"

The young man knocked on every door, but neighbors confirmed their internet and electricity were fine—only 177 was affected.

This was an old post office on a Manhattan street, obsolete for postal services, now serving as a parcel storage hub for the entire block.

Their commotion drew another head from a neighboring window—a man with a large beard. "Hey, knock it off! Go ask the city hall across the street. I bet the wiring's old."

"This post office's history is ancient. No one knows if the pipes were ever upgraded. Breakdowns are normal. Go ask them—maybe they can fix it before dark."

The young man was about to thank him when another scream came from inside: "Oh damn! The pipes—they've burst too?!"

The young man trudged back inside. In the dim post office, he turned to the fat man. "What's going on? I heard fighting near the Brooklyn Bridge. Could they be targeting us?"

The fat man glanced at him, lowered his voice. "Hard to say. Those damned vampire monsters have been harassing us in HONGKONG nonstop. Our temple's been attacked constantly. We thought moving to New York would help. Turns out it's the same…"

"Forget it. Let's fix the water and power first. How are we supposed to cook tonight?"

They stared at each other. The fat man spoke first. "Don't look at me. Magic isn't for plumbing. Even if I had a restoration spell, how would I know which pipe's broken?"

"Fine. We'll need professionals. I'll go to city hall across the street. You handle the water—don't flood the packages."

Later, the young man returned, dejected. "The office is closed. Their efficiency is always terrible. Don't count on them. We'll fix it ourselves."

He saw the fat man emerge holding a plunger, looking shattered. "Bad news—our toilet exploded…"

"Toilet? How does a toilet explode?"

"Those bats tampered with our sewer lines. Luckily, nothing foul surged up—just pipe bursts…"

No sooner had he finished than another violent explosion echoed from inside the post office, followed by a horrific stench.

"Shit!! What the hell?! Oh my god!!"

Then a furious scream echoed across Manhattan: "You damned vampires!! You actually blew up toilets!!"

Coulson watched the chaos from his hovering helicopter. Most residents had fled their homes from the stench. He called Nick: "Director, isn't this a bit too cruel? Even so, you don't blow up toilets…"

"Who's being cruel? The vampires are the ones playing with shit. Do they still dare call themselves the noble bloodline?"

"They targeted their pitiful toilets in revenge. It's inhumane. We strongly protest this behavior!"

Soon, Coulson heard Hill's voice over Nick's phone: "…The opposing side contacted one of our Manhattan agents. They identify as sorcerers from Kamar-Taj's New York Sanctum and require S. . . . . . support…"

Nick flipped through his files. "S. . . . . . has no diplomatic ties with them. To avoid misunderstandings, we must send a formal communication request to their headquarters, confirming our aid is authorized and within bounds…"

Hill asked a few questions, then replied: "They claim the New York Sanctum operates independently from Kamar-Taj's headquarters, but they'll report this incident—including all progress in the war against vampires—to the main temple."

"They're desperate. If we don't act soon, the waste will overflow from their building…"

"Remember, Hill—give your diligent colleagues a few days off. Send them to Hawaii. Even if they haven't signed NDAs, they must not mention anything related to waste. Blowing up toilets? S. . . . . . can't afford this scandal."

Nick hung up and called Shearer. "Next time you have such a disgusting tactic, don't call us."

"But the effect was outstanding, wasn't it? In a few days, every occult faction will know vampires blew up Kamar-Taj's New York Sanctum toilet—that they're a species obsessed with excrement…"

"Are you sure this will draw their boss's attention?"

"It would've happened anyway. I don't believe the guarding sorcerers didn't report vampire movements to Kamar-Taj's master."

"Then why make us blow up the toilet?"

"Don't say that. It wasn't us. It was those self-proclaimed noble night aristocrats."

"Enough." Shearer switched the phone to his other ear. "Let's talk business."

"S. . . . . . knows something about Kamar-Taj, just not the exact location of the New York Sanctum. Now that you've made contact, at least on the vampire issue, you share a common goal."

"The war on the Eastern continent—besides Kunlun, Kamar-Taj must have participated."

"I don't understand. From what I know, that mysterious organization in the Himalayas should only deal with threats from beyond Earth…"

"Look at the fossil samples of Earth creatures, then look at those insane bats' teleportation and claw magic. Put your hand on your conscience—can you honestly say they're native Earth life?"

"Alright. So you're certain the Bat Lord's guardian is also an extraterrestrial supernatural being?"

"Of course. My guess is probably 90% accurate."

"Really? Who do you think they are?"

"They're bats—or rather, vampires. You can call them—the Morlon Family."