Rex Viper returned to Emma Church looking like he'd just crawled out of a battlefield—which, in all fairness, he had.
The moment David saw him, he didn't rush over in concern or panic. Instead, he clapped.
"Congratulations, congratulations!" David said with exaggerated enthusiasm. "New York's number one most wanted criminal, Mr. Devil Face himself. Current bounty… ten million dollars."
He paused, then added cheerfully, "Honestly, I kind of want to kill you myself."
Only then did Rex realize just how bad things had gotten.
That lunatic, George Stacy, had actually pushed it through overnight—coordinating with the court and the district attorney to issue a citywide top-level warrant. It wasn't just another arrest notice.
It was historic.
The "Poison King of New York." The "Devil Face."
A bounty starting at ten million dollars, open to public contributions. And the longer he stayed alive, the higher that number would climb.
Rex stood there for a moment, staring at David with a flat expression.
"…You think I should change my outfit?"
David burst out laughing. "If you don't, I give you maybe a few days before someone cashes in."
Rex sighed, rubbing his temples. "This world's got no room for righteous heroes."
Out in the backyard, he dug a shallow pit and dropped the demon-face mask into it.
For a moment, he just stared down at it.
"…Goodbye," he muttered. "Short life. Bright career."
He kicked dirt over it, covering the mask completely.
Then he straightened up, already moving on.
"Next time, I'll pick a better name," he said thoughtfully. "Devil Face sounds weak. Not intimidating at all."
The next day, Hell's Kitchen was still shrouded in smoke.
The aftermath hadn't settled. Residents walked the streets in silence, the atmosphere heavy with fear and anger. Everywhere you looked—TV screens, news broadcasts, online feeds—people were shouting.
Condemning the gangs.
Condemning the police.
Condemning George Stacy.
And, of course—
Condemning him.
Inside the church, David sat in front of multiple monitors, constantly scanning news feeds and surveillance channels, gathering information like a machine. Meanwhile, Rex had taken over a table, sprawled across it with a set of colored pencils and sketch paper.
He rested his chin on his arm, casually doodling as if none of the chaos outside had anything to do with him.
"David," he said lazily, "what do you think about me getting a suit like Daredevil's? The guy's got style. Handsome, rich, smooth talker… total role model."
David didn't even turn around. He just rolled his eyes so hard it was almost audible.
"Role model? You just want to mess with him," he said dryly.
Rex shrugged. "He helped me last night."
"And you saved his life," David shot back. "So what, that makes you even?"
Rex grinned slightly. "Where I'm from, saving someone means they owe you. Big time."
David frowned. "That still a thing over there? I feel bad for anyone who gets rescued by another guy."
Rex paused mid-sketch, then suddenly snapped his fingers.
"Oh, I got it! What if I design a bat-themed suit and call myself Batman?"
David actually turned this time, thinking it over for a second before shaking his head.
"That name sounds… cheap," he said honestly. "No presence. No dominance. You'd be better off calling yourself something like Hawkman."
Rex grimaced.
Yeah… without the reputation behind it, "Batman" did sound kind of lame.
Still, the suit idea had potential.
Problem was—it would cost a fortune.
"…Tch. That's annoying."
At that moment, David suddenly slapped the table, eyes locked on his screen.
"Found something," he said quickly. "A guy matching the profile of a pure-blood vampire elder. Name's Marcus. Want to confirm?"
Rex's eyes sharpened instantly. "Where?"
"He's attending a banquet tonight," David replied, already grabbing a small device that looked like a modified phone. "If we get close enough, I can use this to hack into his system. Just need a few seconds of proximity."
Rex's grin returned, this time sharper.
"And once we're in, we get access to his contacts," he said. "Other vampires. Networks. Locations."
David nodded. "Exactly."
"Nice work."
Right now, grinding low-level targets wasn't cutting it anymore.
After everything that happened in Hell's Kitchen, Rex had taken down dozens of small-time enemies—but the system rewards had been underwhelming. Three Black Iron gift packs, six attribute points total.
He had already allocated them.
Four into Constitution during the fight.
Two into Speed afterward.
The results were solid, but not enough.
[Name: Rex ViperAge: 22Bloodline: HumanStatus: Normal
Power: 26Speed: 28Defense: 20Constitution: 24Spirit: 30 (limit)
Skills: Combat Master, Pistol Master, Trap Master, Swimming Master, Basketball Master, Submachine/Assault Rifle Master, Diving Master, Sniper Skill, Performance Master
Abilities: Night Vision, Compound Eyes, Dragon Energy: Explosion, Infrared Vision
Items: None
Instance: UnlockedAlternate Universe: Unlocked
Main Quest: The Guilty Must Be PunishedIron-Level Prey: 6/25Bronze-Level Prey: 7/25
New Mission: Silver HuntSilver-Level Prey: 0/1
Creed: Kill to Gain Redemption]
If he wanted to push every stat to the human cap of thirty, he'd have to wipe out half the city at this rate.
Too slow.
What he needed—
Were better targets.
And vampires were perfect.
They gathered in groups, had clear weaknesses, and disintegrated after death—clean kills, easy confirmation. Most importantly, they ranged from bronze to potentially silver tier.
Which meant Marcus…
Was a jackpot.
"Uh… there's something else," David added, sounding slightly hesitant. "Tony Stark is going to be at the same event."
Rex paused.
Then slowly looked down at the sketch in front of him.
A new idea began forming.
…
That evening, the two of them pulled up to a luxury hotel in what could only be described as a dying pickup truck.
The valet gave them a look.
A long look.
But when they gave their names, they were still allowed through.
Rex leaned slightly toward David as they stepped inside.
"Next time," he murmured, "we might need a car that doesn't scream 'we don't belong here.'"
David snorted. "For a place like this? You'd need something like a Lamborghini Veneno or a Bugatti Veyron just to blend in. And preferably a stunning partner on your arm."
Rex waved it off. "I'll get rich first. Then I'll think about the rest. As for the partner… maybe you should consider it."
David didn't dignify that with a response.
As they took the elevator up to the sixth-floor banquet hall, he spoke again.
"By the way, I still don't get why you told me to short Stark Industries," he said. "Their stock is rock solid. Defense contracts, cutting-edge tech, and Tony Stark himself—no one bets against that."
Rex smiled faintly.
"That's exactly why," he said. "Guys like him? Too smart, too confident. Sooner or later, they screw up."
He glanced toward the ceiling.
"And when they do… it'll be big."
David muttered under his breath. "Weird logic."
Then he chuckled slightly. "You might want to tell that to him directly. He just arrived."
Rex turned.
At the entrance, a crowd had already formed.
Even in a room filled with elites, Tony Stark stood at the center of attention like gravity itself had shifted toward him. Politicians, businessmen, media figures—everyone wanted a piece of the man.
Rex watched for a second.
"…Yeah," he murmured. "That tracks."
The banquet officially began.
Big names filled the hall—the mayor, high-ranking officials, industry giants, media moguls. Conversations overlapped, deals were hinted at, and egos clashed behind polite smiles.
One elderly man with blonde hair kept rambling loudly about real estate, gesturing dramatically as he spoke.
"Believe me, nobody understands New York property better than I do," he insisted.
Nearby, a dark-skinned man with a shaved head and multiple rings puffed on a cigar, speaking in a measured tone about talent selection and future investments.
Rex barely paid them any attention.
Because across the room—
David caught his eye and gave a subtle signal.
Target acquired.
Marcus.
Rex shifted his focus immediately, tracking the vampire through the crowd. But getting close wasn't easy. Marcus moved carefully, always surrounded, never lingering long enough for clean access.
Still—
The system had already confirmed it.
Silver-level prey.
Rex's pulse picked up slightly.
Jackpot.
He watched for a moment longer, then glanced around.
And that's when he saw Stark—alone at the bar, drink in hand.
Rex's lips curved.
An idea clicked into place.
Without hesitation, he turned and walked straight toward him.
....
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