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The abandoned steel mill had just gone through a fierce battle.

Most of the place consisted of large industrial steel machinery that wasn’t easily damaged, but there were still shattered bottles, scattered personal belongings, and obvious signs of bullet impacts and destruction.

Some corpses remained where they had fallen, all killed by shotgun blasts.

Black Super easily spotted faction markings on the backs of their necks or wrists—signs belonging to vampire clans.

As for the only two living people...

As he approached, Black Super saw an enraged Blade and Abraham Whistler slumped in a chair, having been brutally tortured.

The deliberate sound of approaching footsteps naturally drew attention.

Blade flicked his hand and instantly drew his modified large-caliber pistol, aiming it at Black Super.

Black Super didn’t care in the slightest. He walked straight past the furious Daywalker and came to the limping old hunter’s side.

"Whistler, you look like shit."

"Fuck you. Do you know I’m dying?"

Blade lowered the gun, his gaze sharp beneath the sunglasses.

"How did you know to come here?"

"I helped install your alarm system, remember? If there’s abnormal shutdown activity, I get notified."

Black Super turned Whistler’s neck to inspect it.

"You were bitten?"

"Yes. I got bitten. So do me a favor and end it quickly. You know what happens to someone like me—I’d become something worse than a vampire. I don’t want to live like that. Put a bullet in me. Blade’s a pussy. He won’t do it."

Ignoring how the nearby black man somehow managed to visibly darken in mood, Black Super said:

"So even if I can save you, you still want to die? Tired of living?"

Blade immediately reacted.

"You can save him?!"

"If he wants to live, yes. If he’s determined to die, even Jesus couldn’t save him."

Whistler suddenly looked like someone injected with adrenaline. He grabbed Black Super’s arm.

"I can go back to normal? Walk in the sunlight?"

Black Super pressed him back down.

"Don’t get excited. If your blood pressure rises and the bleeding worsens, then you really will die."

Then he added:

"Though if all you want is to walk... should I fix that crippled leg while I’m at it?"

"Do it! Whatever you want. I owe you my life!"

The old hunter lay back in the chair, grimacing in pain as he pulled something in his wounds.

Blade asked from the side, "What can I do?"

Black Super looked at the half-vampire, then at a videotape on a nearby shelf labeled PLAY ME.

"You’re better at killing vampires than I am. I’m better at saving people than you are. Maybe you should go watch their message."

Whistler grabbed Black Super again.

"No! It’s a trap. They pissed Blade off because those bastards need him."

Black Super pried the old man’s hand off.

"I told you not to get excited. Keep bleeding like this and you’re done."

As he spoke, he tore all of Whistler’s clothes off—including the pants—exposing every wound.

The rough treatment made Whistler curse loudly.

"Fuck! What are you doing?!"

Black Super rummaged through the emergency medical kit.

"Treating your wounds. Nobody’s interested in your old asshole."

Then he added casually:

"Unless those clothes had sentimental value. Like your dead wife gave them to you or something."

"Fuck! Just give me a bullet!"

Blade, standing nearby, let out a laugh.

Whistler shouted another furious:

"Fuck!"

Black Super removed his combat gloves and replaced them with medical rubber gloves from the first-aid kit.

He poured hydrogen peroxide over the wounds, disinfecting and cleaning them.

The pain was so intense that Whistler nearly lost the strength to curse.

As he worked, Black Super asked:

"Looks like I skipped a lot of plot. What’s going on? Blade, explain."

Blade’s voice returned to its usual low, dangerous tone.

"Deacon Frost. The vampire I’ve been tracking. The one who bit my mother.

"He’s also the leader of the recent radical vampire faction in Los Angeles.

"From my investigation, he wants to carry out some ancient ritual—to transform himself into something beyond a vampire.

"The relevant information is on the hard drive I brought back. Whistler and the others cracked it recently and accessed the contents.

"And apparently I’m part of the ritual. That’s why they’re trying to lure me there."

Black Super began by treating the worst bleeding wounds first, then internal bleeding, and finally the torn flesh that merely looked worst.

That included the large mangled bite wound on Whistler’s neck left by a vampire with terrible table manners.

The hardest part was the internal bleeding—because it couldn’t be seen externally.

But for Black Super, who possessed x-ray vision, that wasn’t a problem.

Sometimes he inserted forceps and thread through an existing wound to stitch internal damage.

Sometimes he had to cut a wound open further in order to suture and ligate bleeding inside.

He didn’t explain any of it to Blade.

He simply moved quickly and efficiently from one injury to the next, smooth and practiced.

Any real medical professional witnessing it would have been stunned by the speed alone.

Black Super also didn’t let Blade stand there uselessly.

"So now that the old man isn’t dying, are you still planning to walk into their trap?"

Blade replied, "I’m guessing they also took Dr. Johnson. I still have to rescue her."

"Dr. Johnson? Who’s that? New member of your team?"

Blade answered:

"No. Dr. Karen Johnson. A hematology expert.

"She was bitten by Quinn before, and your Embrace Serum saved her life.

"She stayed because vampires were after her and she had nowhere else to go.

"Besides lying low, she also wanted to use your serum as a foundation to develop a cure for me—one that preserves my enhanced abilities.

"She got dragged into this because of me. So I’m responsible for bringing her back."

Black Super couldn’t be bothered asking whether Dr. Johnson had the same romantic subplot with Blade as in the movie.

Instead he said:

"Alright, tough guy. Go get me a bucket of clean water.

"I need to wipe the blood off this old bastard before I bandage him. If dirt and blood stay on the skin, bacteria can cause infection."

At the same time, he removed the medical gloves and tossed them into the trash.

Blade asked:

"All the wounds are handled?"

"I’ve done everything I can for now.

"But I still need to go get plasma for this old fossil. With the amount of blood he lost, recovery will be terrible otherwise.

"As for his leg, he’ll need an artificial joint.

"I’ll have to get medical supplies first before I fix it too.

"You can’t seriously expect me to carry that kind of thing around on me."

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