Father Morlu strutted through the cramped cargo hold of the airborne command bus with a self-satisfied grin, as if he had achieved a monumental victory. Despite the turbulence, and the stern warnings to stay strapped in, he seemed determined to make sure everyone—especially Solomon—noticed his accomplishment.
His "success" sat right next to Solomon—Johnny Blaze. After undergoing Morlu's purification ritual, Johnny appeared far more composed, but that did little to ease the deep worry etched into his face.
Even now, the words Solomon had spoken earlier about destiny lingered in Johnny's mind like an unwelcome guest. Those haunting statements made it abundantly clear: the Spirit of Vengeance wasn't just a curse; it was his only lifeline. Thankfully, the spirit hadn't disappeared—it had merely been subdued for now. This brief moment of peace was something Johnny hadn't experienced in a long time, and he relished it, even if only for a short while. As for what Solomon was plotting, Johnny couldn't care less.
The cargo hold had been converted into a makeshift infirmary for wounded agents. Morlu roamed between the patients, pausing at one stretcher with an expression that suggested he was about to perform last rites. That was, until the same irritable doctor from earlier promptly kicked him out.
"Father, please," the doctor snapped, waving him off like a pesky fly. "This isn't a chapel, and these aren't divine whispers from heaven. They're drugged-out soldiers mumbling nonsense. None of these people are dying!"
"Hah!" Solomon laughed loudly from across the hold, his mockery earning a sharp glare from Morlu.
Unfazed, the sorcerer unbuckled his harness and ascended the spiral staircase to the upper level of the aircraft. With the bar cleaned out of all alcohol—thanks to Fury's preemptive measures against Morlu's tendencies—Solomon was just looking for something to eat. He had already missed two meals and urgently needed to replenish his energy.
The evacuation had gone remarkably well. With cover provided by Captain Rogers, his team, and the two escorting F-22 Raptors, S.H.I.E.L.D. had avoided any additional casualties. Now, the airborne command bus was en route to a classified location, carrying agents, monks, and two key individuals: Danny and Johnny Blaze.
Melinda May had already briefed Fury on the true nature of the so-called purification ritual, and this information wasn't kept secret from the other agents. Under pressure from Rogers, Fury had reluctantly canceled the ritual. Instead, the plan was to lock Danny in a heavily fortified underground military facility and force the devil's hand.
However, the mystery of how the mercenaries had so suddenly appeared near the monastery remained unsolved. And even a subterranean bunker wasn't guaranteed to keep Danny safe. This was why Solomon's protection was still necessary—to defend against any supernatural assaults that might bypass conventional security measures.
The upper cabin was less crowded than the cargo hold below. After grabbing his dinner, Solomon found a seat by the window and enjoyed the view. Flying westward, the bus seemed to chase the sun as it bathed the thick clouds below in hues of orange, red, and violet. Occasionally, flashes of lightning and distant rumbles of thunder punctuated the sky as the aircraft passed over particularly dense cloud formations.
The transition from day to night crept slowly across the horizon, a gray veil of dusk gradually swallowing the transport plane. As the plane was finally cloaked in full darkness, Solomon finished his meal. But he wouldn't enjoy much quiet; Natasha Romanoff had seated herself beside him, clearly with something on her mind.
"You're not piloting the plane?" Solomon asked, raising an eyebrow.
"May can handle it," Natasha replied nonchalantly.
"So, what brings you here?"
"Danny," she said simply. "What's your plan for him?"
"Ugh," Solomon groaned, shaking his head. "I have no idea. Let nature take its course, I suppose. If the Ancient One issues a directive, I'll follow her orders."
"What about your own opinion?" Natasha pressed. "Your teacher isn't here, and neither are your peers. You have the authority to make decisions in the field."
Solomon turned to scrutinize the agent. "Why are you so invested in this boy?" he asked, his gaze piercing. "What do you want, Natasha? Are you trying to save this boy to fill some void in your own heart? The best-case scenario for him is lifelong surveillance under Kamar-Taj. He can't join us—his body would be destroyed by the external magic constantly tormenting him. And with the power buried in his bloodline... we can only hope it never gets awakened."
"I owe his mother some peace of mind, Solomon. Don't be so heartless," Natasha countered, exhaling with frustration. "I can understand her perspective. Right now, she's traveling with strangers she doesn't trust, terrified and powerless to help her son. Try to empathize with her. What she needs most is reassurance."
Solomon nodded slowly, acknowledging the validity of Natasha's argument. He didn't mind extending a measure of humanity to those involved in the conflict—so long as it didn't compromise the mission. If Nadya could accept a life of perpetual observation for her and her son, Solomon was willing to help preserve Danny's life.
But just as he opened his mouth to respond, two deafening explosions rocked the aircraft. The entire command bus shuddered violently. Outside the window, Solomon spotted several black shapes flitting near the wings. One even latched onto the plane's surface.
The escorting Raptors were gone.
Those were definitely not birds.
Natasha noticed the movement as well. Modern aircraft radars could detect birds, but typically only when they appeared in front of the plane—not behind it. Smaller rearward signals, like drones, were often filtered out.
So how had these "900-kilometer-per-hour birds" managed to sneak up on them?
"What are those?" Natasha asked, voice tense.
"Some kind of flying creatures," Solomon replied. The poor lighting made it difficult to identify the attackers, but one thing was clear: they were highly capable. He watched as one creature tore into the aircraft's wing, peeling back metal panels with its claws. Another misstep saw one unlucky beast incinerated by the jet engine's tail flame, but the damage was done—sparks erupted from exposed wires, and warning sirens blared throughout the cabin.
Nick Fury stormed out of his office, barking orders as Natasha and the other agents scrambled to their stations. The bus's automated defense systems activated, with twin turrets rising near the wings to provide suppressive fire.
Yet it wasn't enough. The creatures adapted quickly, staying below the plane's altitude to evade the guns. Worse, more black shapes emerged from the clouds. By a stroke of lightning, Solomon glimpsed the massive swarm closing in from the rear—a dense wave of dark forms rushing toward the transport.
The plane accelerated, but the monsters were relentless. Solomon headed toward the hatch connecting the command bus to the Quinjet. Natasha, understanding his intentions, opened the hatch.
As Solomon and the android stepped out onto the aircraft's exterior, hurricane-force winds threatened to tear them off the surface. The roaring gale flung Solomon's enchanted robe around wildly, and the biting cold sapped his body heat. But he had come prepared:
Spider Climb allowed him and the android to walk along the plane's surface without fear of falling. Enhanced breathing spells helped him take in oxygen from the thin air. A strengthened cardiovascular system ensured steady oxygen flow, even under extreme duress. Environmental resistance magic shielded him from the freezing temperatures that could have otherwise hampered his movements.
The first creature to greet them had leathery, wrinkled skin, elongated fangs, and razor-sharp claws on its spindly hands. Its most notable feature, however, was its enormous bat-like wings.
The monster let out a shrill screech and lunged at Solomon. But the android stepped forward, cleaving the creature in half with a single swing of her massive blade. Its remains tumbled away into the void below.
"Master, what are these things?" the android asked. "They weren't in the compendium you provided me."
"I'm not sure," Solomon admitted, his brow furrowed. "But they look vampiric."
Indeed, the situation felt graver than ever. These weren't ordinary creatures, nor had Solomon encountered them before. But in hindsight, it made sense: while most of Earth's vampires descended from Dracula's lineage, the original power behind vampirism wasn't Dracula. It was Lilith.
The realization hit him like a thunderclap.
The monster's screech had summoned reinforcements. More of them swarmed out of the clouds, their piercing cries blending into a cacophony that rivaled the howling wind. Gunfire erupted from the bus's turrets, but it wasn't enough to thin their ranks.
Solomon and the android found themselves locked in a fierce battle. At first, Solomon relied on conjured flames and Vishanti-enhanced spells to hold the creatures at bay. Fiery explosions lit up the night sky as he blasted one monster after another. But the swarm was relentless. Soon, he was forced to draw the Autumnleaf Blade, slashing at his attackers with crimson arcs of energy.
The hatch opened again. Tethered to the plane by a cable, Captain Rogers stepped out, shield in one hand and handgun in the other. Solomon spotted a
vampire lunging for Rogers and swiftly bisected it with a sweeping strike. Rogers finished it off, pressing his shield against its chest and firing a few rounds into its skull.
"I thought you weren't coming!" Solomon shouted over the wind.
"Of course I came! And for the record, I've seen these creatures before—in Germany!"
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