Smith Doyle sensed it the moment someone touched one of the Dragon Balls. He was sitting at his desk, and a small smile tugged at his lips.
He closed his eyes for a second, focusing, tracing the connection back to its source. The name surfaced in his mind. Michael. The protagonist of the Underworld storyline.
Smith leaned back in his chair, tapping a pen on his desk. He thought through all the people who had obtained Dragon Balls so far. John Wick. Xu Xialing. Ivan Vanko. Sofia. Shimazu Koji. Selene. And now Michael. Tony, too, had one in his villa.
They all shared one strange characteristic. Every single one was either a main character or a significant secondary player in their respective stories. People with weight. People with destiny, if you believed in that sort of thing.
Was it just coincidence? Or did the Dragon Balls somehow gravitate toward people with narrative importance?
Smith wasn't sure. But the pattern was too consistent to ignore.
Either way, it looked like the Dragon Ball conflict in Britain was about to heat up.
In the werewolf stronghold, a damp, cavernous space deep underground that smelled of earth and old iron, Lucian stood before his assembled pack. His voice rang out, filled with a barely contained, zealous excitement that cut through the low murmurs.
"For over a thousand years, werewolves and vampires have been locked in a war of extermination. Even at the cellular level, our species are designed to destroy each other."
He paced as he spoke, his heavy boots echoing on the concrete. Every eye in the crowded room tracked his movements.
"But I've had a vision," he continued, his voice dropping slightly. "What if we could combine the power of both species? Eliminate the weaknesses of each? What kind of creature would emerge from that fusion?"
Lucian stopped, turning to face them fully, his shadow cast long and large by the few industrial lights. "I've spent years trying to mix werewolf and vampire bloodlines. Every attempt failed. Every experiment ended in death."
He let that sink in, the only sound the faint drip of water from the ceiling. "But there's hope. Through research into our origins, we discovered that both werewolves and vampires descend from Alexander Corvinus. And he has one uncontaminated bloodline descendant still alive."
His voice rose with gathering intensity. "That's when I understood. To merge our bloodlines, we need someone with pure, uncontaminated blood. Original genetic material, untouched by either virus."
"After countless disappointments, we finally found him. A genuine sample of the original Corvinus strain. His blood can perfectly bridge our two species."
Lucian's eyes blazed. "Once we inject him with both werewolf and vampire blood from a powerful source, we'll be reborn. We'll gain strength beyond anything either species has known."
"Then we'll destroy the vampires easily!" he roared. "We'll escape the sewers and shadows we've been forced to hide in. We'll become something new. Something superior. And we'll take control of our own lives!"
The werewolves erupted in a deafening, primal wave of howls and roars. The sound was deafening, shaking dust from the pipes overhead.
For centuries, ever since Lucian's rebellion, werewolves had lived as fugitives. They weren't vampire slaves anymore, but their existence was harder than ever. Hiding in forgotten corners. Running from Death Dealers. Watching friends and family get hunted down and executed like animals.
They were done with that life. Hope stood before them, and they roared their approval.
Lucian raised his arm. The cacophony cut off instantly, replaced by a heavy, expectant silence.
"Raze," Lucian pointed. "Take a team to the train station. Elder Amelia arrives tonight. Kill her and bring back her blood."
Raze's expression hardened, his eyes glinting. "Yes, Chief."
"Doctor," Lucian pointed again. "Michael has left vampire territory and surfaced. Take a team and bring him back alive."
The Doctor's face lit up with a savage, unrestrained glee. "Yes, sir. I won't fail."
"Connor. Position your team outside the vampire castle. If any Death Dealers come out to interfere, stop them. Use whatever force necessary."
Connor nodded sharply. "Understood, Chief."
Lucian thrust his arm forward, pointing toward the tunnel exit, toward the future. "Hope lies ahead. Move out, my people!"
The three teams grabbed their weapons, the sounds of heavy magazines clicking into place and silver-tipped rounds being chambered. They headed out into the night.
Connor's team traveled in an armored van, its engine rumbling. They parked deep in the woods, the tires crunching on dead leaves before the vehicle went silent. From their position, they had clear sight lines on every entrance and exit of the vampire castle. They settled in, the van's interior filled with the green glow of night vision.
Meanwhile, Michael had finally, breathlessly, evaded the police. He leaned against a brick wall in a dark alley, his shoulder throbbing. He pulled out the business card Selene had given him. He found a pay phone on a quiet, rain-slicked street corner. His hands shook slightly as he lifted the grimy receiver and dialed.
Inside the castle crypt, Selene sat on the stone steps near Victor's tomb, waiting for him to wake. The air was cold and dead. Her phone buzzed in her pocket, the sound a violent intrusion in the absolute silence. She considered ignoring it, then pulled it out and answered, her voice clipped.
"Hello. This is Selene."
"Selene, it's Michael." His voice was low, fast, and terrified. "I... I know why the werewolf is hunting me."
That caught her attention. An ordinary human attracting this much werewolf attention was unusual. "What's the reason?"
"Dragon Ball," Michael panted. "They're after a Dragon Ball."
Selene shot to her feet, her boots scraping on the stone. "Do you know what Dragon Balls do?"
Michael didn't answer directly. "Do you?"
If she already knew about the wish-granting function, this would be simple. If she didn't, explaining would be complicated. Maybe he'd be better off trying to sell it to the werewolves instead.
"Dragon Ball," Selene said, her voice urgent, her mind racing. "You're certain that's what they're after?"
Perfect timing. She'd been searching for Dragon Balls, and one had literally called her.
But a troubling thought followed. If the werewolves knew what Dragon Balls did, they might already have one. Maybe more than one.
"It seems you know about them. That makes this easier." Michael took a shaky breath. "I have a Dragon Ball. A five-star ball. I'll sell it to you, but I need you to agree to some conditions."
"Name them."
"First, I need protection. Even after I hand over the Dragon Ball, the werewolves... they might still come after me."
"Second, I'm definitely losing my job after this. I... I might not be safe anywhere until the werewolves are dealt with. I need money."
Selene didn't hesitate. "Done."
"I'll bring a team of Death Dealers to collect the Dragon Ball and escort you back to our base. You'll have full protection."
"As for money, Dragon Balls are selling for five million on the black market. I'll give you ten million. That should set you up for life."
Michael's breath caught in his throat. Ten million dollars. He was just a doctor. Even with a decent salary, he'd never see that kind of money in his entire career.
"Deal," he said, his voice cracking with relief. "Deal. At your price."
Michael chose a location he thought was relatively safe, a public, well-lit street corner, and gave Selene the address.
What he didn't notice, as he hung up the phone and leaned his head against the cold, wet glass of the booth, was the bounty hunter watching from a parked car across the street. The man pulled out his phone, confirmed Michael's face against a photo on the screen, and immediately sent his location to the werewolves.
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