The Return of the Prodigal Vampire

Walter Mayer.

My morning started with strange sounds coming from Laura's room. Paranoia gleefully supplied my mind with a dozen possible scenarios of unpleasant events, ranging from unknown adversaries attempting to kidnap the girl to the sudden outbreak of mischief on her part. However, reality turned out to be much more mundane. The young one was simply practicing, or rather, doing warm-up exercises and a series of peculiar movements that seemed to tie her up in knots. Her gaze fell upon me, and the little one smiled.

"Good morning!" So much positivity and joy; it's hard not to smile in return.

"Good morning. You're already training? Well, a healthy body, healthy spirit," I glanced at the clock – half-past six in the morning, "but still, getting up this early..."

She shrugged. "I always train at this time. I've gotten used to it."

"I see, but let's finish up gradually. Then you can take a shower and have breakfast. We have a busy day ahead of us."

"Alright, when will your friend arrive? You mentioned something about her yesterday..." Curiosity sparkled in her eyes.

"We agreed on ten o'clock, but like a true lady, Felicia might... well... be fashionably late for a bit. I think you'll like her," or at least I fervently hope so, "but for now, finish your improvised interrogation and get to the shower and breakfast." I ruffled the child's hair and directed her towards the bathroom (hm, if this continues, the habit of mussing up Laura's hair will become a reflex for me).

While the child freshened up in the bathroom, I prepared breakfast (sigh, should I take a few lessons from Zinaida? It's starting to feel embarrassing). Fortunately, there were plenty of goodies left from yesterday evening, and I managed to reheat them in the microwave, at least demonstrating my culinary talents at that level.

During breakfast, we attempted to create a plan for the upcoming shopping. Well, "attempted" might be the right word. Despite her smarts and the experiences she'd been through, Laura remained an eleven-year-old girl with quite a unique upbringing and education. She genuinely wondered why she needed any toys or fancy dresses, but she could professionally compare the technical characteristics of an M16 and an AK-47, pointing out the pros and cons of each model.

Hmm... this will be much harder than I thought. While making the list and getting into heated debates about weaponry (which clearly demonstrated my complete incompetence on the subject, starkly highlighting the difference between an enthusiast occasionally reading firearms magazines and an eleven-year-old professional who assembled/disassembled many of the models I hadn't even heard of), time flew by unnoticed.

Exactly at 10:00, the doorbell rang with a piercing chime. Crossing my fingers mentally, I headed to greet our guest. Behind the door stood a visibly irritated Felicia, pressing the doorbell impatiently. Oh, what kind of internal struggle was going on within her this morning? On one hand, coming right on time was uninteresting, but on the other hand, curiosity was practically screaming, demanding to know what had happened – why this certain Walter Mayer disappeared and then reappeared, making cryptic hints...

Our gazes met.

"Well, Mayer, if this is some kind of joke, you'll regret it!" Irritation needed an outlet, and the only target within reach was the humble creature from space... poor thing.

"I'm glad to see you too," I stepped aside, allowing the indignant young woman to enter the apartment.

Felicia entered the kitchen. I followed and quietly contemplated what might unfold next. And then came the historic moment – Miss Hardy met Laura for the first time. Silence. The girl and the woman studied each other with interest.

Taking a risk, I looked into what was happening emotionally with Felicia. Oh... I've heard that women are generally more emotional than men, but not to this extent! I was hit by a storm of surprise, curiosity, pity, warmth towards the child, and at the same time, a hint of jealousy and a whole lot of anger directed at those who mistreated the little girl. I was snapped out of shock by Laura's voice.

"And you really are as handsome as Uncle Walter said."

What? Huh? Did I really say that? A wave of pleasure mixed with mild embarrassment and a touch of regret, directed toward me this time, reached me from Felicia. She seemed flustered and, it appeared, slightly blushing. Laura, I adore you for calming Miss Hardy down and setting her in a positive mood with just one phrase.

"Mmm, thank you for the compliment. But let's get to know each other in person. My name is Felicia, and what's your name?"

"Laura. Laura Mayer," the little one finished proudly. Well, that was a shocker.

"Mayer?" Quite a bit of surprise there.

"Yes," the young girl nodded seriously, relishing another jam-filled pancake, "Yum, Uncle Walter said, after he rescued me from the bad people, Uncle Fox and introduced me to him, that he would take care of me and, if I wanted, legally take guardianship of me. So that would make me his daughter," she explained matter-of-factly with the innocence of a child. The funniest thing was that from a formal perspective, that's exactly how it was, and I had no problem with that kind of daughter.

Felicia's gaze towards me held clear approval, and judging from the emotions... I inadvertently looked myself over – no white wings or halo had grown, no compromising (for my future Dark Lord persona) items were detected. I breathed a sigh of relief prematurely, as it turned out. This cunning creature decided to pry a couple of my secrets out, using the innocent child as a tool. The plan was good, but the child wasn't as simple and naive as planned.

"Laura," the young woman began in a gentle voice, "you mentioned Uncle Fox, but who is he?"

"Uncle Fox is an acquaintance of Walter's. He's a mercenary and calls himself the 'Death Machine,'" the child began to enthusiastically narrate, "he's the one who saved me from the bad people, as he said, during a cleanup operation. And I want to become just like him when I grow up. He's strong," the adorable little girl concluded with absolute seriousness, glancing in my direction. I think my eye twitched.

"Um, I'm certainly glad you two found common ground so quickly, but perhaps we should go shopping? We need to buy a lot of things, and as always, time is short," I decided to steer the conversation away from discussing some mercenary and Laura's future prospects, "Felicia, you wouldn't mind helping me with things and clothes for Laura, would you? I'm afraid on my own I'll buy half of what we actually need, and they'll probably shove a bunch of unnecessary stuff on me."

The blonde woman sighed dramatically. "Oh, men, what would you do without us? Of course, I'll help."

But from the look in her eyes and her emotions, it seemed like we were in for a quite interesting conversation later. I just fear that I won't be able to answer most of her questions, not right now at least.

"Thank you very much, my lady," I bowed in an elegant gesture.

"Come on already, gentlemen," the girl responded cheerfully.

We quickly got Laura ready and dressed ourselves, then headed out for some shopping – we had to provide the little one with several sets of clothes, personal care items, and much more.

Around the same time and place. Rogue.

Anna Maria walked down the street, lost in her thoughts about the events of the past week. Being in the crowd made it easier, less lonely; she could imagine herself as an ordinary person with everyday joys, sorrows, concerns, and problems. The girl's thoughts kept returning to the stranger with white hair and a glint in his warm brown eyes. Who was he? Unconsciously, for almost a week now, she had been wandering around the place of their first and last encounter.

The New York City services had already cleared away all the aftermath of recent events: they repaired broken windows in buildings, fixed the roads, and removed the claw marks from the skyscraper. Now, only the memories of eyewitnesses and reports from those city services testified to the recent events. Anna sighed sadly and immersed herself in her memories.

After analyzing samples of her blood, Dr. Hank spent some time banging his head against the wall, chewing on his own tie, and even running on the ceiling for a while. Finally, after calming down a bit (and descending back to the floor), Professor McCoy shared his conclusions.

"Anna, I must admit—I don't understand how this could happen."

"So, something is happening to me and you don't know what?" the girl exclaimed in fear.

"No," reassured the blue monster, "I said that I don't understand how this is happening, but what is... your genetic structure has changed, acquiring new properties. Comparing the new sections of your genome code with the samples I have from other mutants, I've come to the conclusion that with a probability of 92%, your organism has acquired the ability for high-level self-levitation and an overall increase in physical parameters.

At the moment, your structure has stabilized, from which I can deduce that the changes aren't temporary. So, I would advise you to learn how to utilize your new abilities," Beast delivered his verdict, showering his listener with a heap of scientific terms and definitions.

The girl looked at the mutant-scientist with a somewhat mournful expression.

"Doctor, can you explain this in English?" Hank hesitated and scratched his brow with a claw.

"Um, sorry, got carried away. In short—you've become much stronger physically and, theoretically, you can fly. And it's permanent. And I have no idea how this could have happened; I've never heard of mutants being able to bestow abilities on someone," the blue furry monster summarized.

It took several days to learn to control the new abilities. At first, she ended up creating flattened metal balls on exit, as a result of strength control practice, and accumulated bruises and bumps while attempting to take off (Logan even suggested "lending" her his healing factor after seeing the girl's struggles, but she didn't like the idea herself). However, gradually, she managed to master her new skills to a level that guaranteed her own safety and that of those around her.

On the fifth day, a conversation took place with Professor Xavier. It was Anna's first time in the director's office. The workspace of one of the world's most powerful mutants was quite cozy—wooden panels on the walls, comfortable soft chairs for visitors, numerous potted plants, and a plush carpet on the floor. Light streamed into the room through a large window located to the side of Professor's desk.

"Anna, thank you for coming," the man in the wheelchair greeted the girl, "how are you feeling, everything alright?"

"Yes, thank you, Professor, everything's fine."

"Good to hear. You see, Anna, you're a grown-up now, so I can speak candidly. Our world is currently in a very delicate balance, and any event can shake it, push it into the abyss. We were recently attacked at our school, then the events with Dr. MacTaggert; all of this tells us that we need to be able to defend ourselves, to protect our loved ones and friends, those who are dear to us. I've been gathering gifted individuals for some time now and doing my best to help them, including providing protection.

You've already interacted with those who confront and stop threats—Cyclops, Jean Grey, Storm, and, of course, Logan's mentorship," the telepath allowed himself a slight smile, "and now, I'm offering you the chance to become one of them. Your brave actions in the last operation showed your determination, and your abilities could save dozens of lives. What do you say?"

Doubts plagued Anna... becoming a part of the X-Men, the whole school whispered about them, and almost everyone secretly dreamed of joining their ranks. And the professor's words sounded so right, so convincing. She was almost ready to agree when she suddenly remembered that "last operation," where she had to jump onto a bloodthirsty monster, and if it weren't for that man in the black cloak... the idea of joining the team suddenly didn't seem so successful. Instead of agreeing, the girl uttered:

"Can I have some time to think?"

"Of course, let me know when you've made a decision," the professor smiled (and nibbled on a lemon wedge).

A powerful shove disrupted her train of thought, almost literally. But almost immediately, someone's hands caught her, preventing her from falling.

"I'm sorry, got distracted and didn't notice you," a young man with long black hair and strangely familiar facial features was gently supporting the girl.

"No problem," Rogue muttered, more occupied with avoiding accidentally touching the guy's exposed skin than with maintaining a polite tone, "I'm fine."

Stepping back, the girl noticed that the young man wasn't alone—a rather attractive individual with golden hair stood next to him, and a twelve-year-old girl with vaguely familiar features. The trio had long vanished into the crowd, and Rogue stood there trying to understand what was so special about the guy, why he seemed familiar—she could have sworn she'd never seen him before. But then... Anna trembled. His eyes! Those were the exact same eyes her savior had!

The young mutant girl struggled in the midst of the crowd, getting shoved and stepped on by passersby, but it was all in vain—the dark-haired young man had long disappeared, and thoughts of the child with familiar features evaporated from her mind...

Walter Mayer. A few eventful hours later.

Huh, ran into Rogue along the way, interesting, is it a coincidence or are they trying to track me? Well, nothing bad happened; they didn't recognize me and didn't attempt to follow my further route, although the girl seemed very pensive and absent-minded... But there was neither time nor desire to deal with this encounter right now, so let it be... Now, let's go shopping.

Gods! Girls and shopping. Shopping and girls... Perhaps, it's the most terrifying combination that the ingenious human mind could come up with. At first, it amused me—especially Felicia's attempts to make Laura wear something cute (the latter resisted and tried to storm into a store with army gear, but dealing with Felicia is no simple feat; in the end, the girl had to give in and obediently accept a few dresses).

However, something started to stir in Laura as well (those very dreaded feminine instincts), and soon both my ladies were buried in clothing and lingerie stores, leaving me mentally grabbing my head and humbly paying for purchases. It's worth noting that the girls didn't grab everything indiscriminately, but only truly quality and beautiful items.

If it weren't for the stores' delivery services that offered home delivery for a small fee, I would have been overwhelmed. While Felicia and Laura were busy shopping for clothes, I wandered off to the toy department, where I acquired a couple of plush souvenirs—a black cat with a mischievous face for Felicia and... a fat fish! Seriously, a genuine fish—a white, fluffy, and contented one. I think Laura will like it.

The gifts were received favorably (by Felicia) and somewhat puzzled (you've already guessed, by whom?). Towards the end, we were eventually dragged into a military surplus store, where, to the owner's great surprise, the little girl was quite professionally choosing various tactical gear, boots, and various other useful items.

Oh well, what are you doing, you rascal? Now I'll have to somehow explain to my beloved where you acquired such specific knowledge, and that phrase about the "death machine" won't pass as childish impressionability anymore. Poor me.

Everything sooner or later comes to an end, and so did our shopping spree. Well, that's it, Felicia bid us farewell and went home, whispering to me as she left that we should talk, well... what does she have to tell me? At least she gave me time to gather my thoughts. With that, we headed home; there was still unpacking to do, dinner to prepare (or rather, ask Zinaida Prokopievna to prepare), and come up with what to say to Felicia and how. However, these plans weren't meant to be fulfilled—someone called, someone I had somewhat forgotten, consumed by the whirlwind of events. Federico had returned to town, and he wasn't alone.

Federico, a 300-year-old not quite vampire.

The Count scanned his companions once again. Seven vampires... just seven of them, but for each one, the Spaniard was ready to stake his own head. Many of the old ones were no longer alive - some perished, some disappeared without a trace, likely venturing out to meet the dawn, some refused - either not believing in anything anymore or caring very little about the problems of the world.

But those who remained... oh, they were truly intriguing personalities, each with their own history and goals. However, there was a common thread among them - each had lost someone dear, sought new knowledge or experiences... and now they had gathered together and arrived in New York, some for power, some for knowledge, and some out of eternal curiosity. Oh, the effort he put in, persuading this motley crew. The old vampire delved into memories.

First among those Federico sought was Grigori Romanov. They had met nearly a century ago, in the distant year of 1903 in the Russian Empire. Grigori vehemently denied his connection to the imperial dynasty... but his mannerisms and resemblance to the portraits of past rulers cast some doubts. Regardless, at present, Grigori (known as simply Grig by friends) was one of the founders of a major oil and gas corporation. On weekends, he freely trained anyone interested in the art of fencing and even organized tournaments with prizes.

The two old friends met in a restaurant at a Moscow hotel.

"Federico! How many years, how many winters (approximately 17)! What wind has brought you to our lands? I hope you're here to stay for a while - finding a decent sparring partner in these times has become almost impossible!" Romanov genuinely rejoiced at the appearance of his old acquaintance. "Hmm... something's changed about you... wait a moment, are you tanned?!"

"I'm glad to see you too, Grig. As for that barrage of questions you've dumped on a weary traveler, I'll answer - I'm here in your lands on the orders of my liege, and yes... I'm tanned," the count grinned, "after three centuries, lounging on the sunny beaches of my homeland... mmm." The Russian aristocrat approached, no longer resembling a cheerful young man but rather a predator preparing to pounce.

"I suppose you're not just telling me all this for fun, then please, go ahead and tell me the whole story."

"Well, listen, it all started when I decided to admire the sun one last time..."

About an hour and two bottles of wine later.

"So, some ancient being, granting impressive abilities in exchange for service... wants to prevent an impending all-out war. I find it hard to believe that the Ancient One, if it's really him, would care about mere mortals."

"Perhaps because these 'mere mortals' are now capable of annihilating the planet with their internal conflicts?"

Grigori pondered, and ultimately... why not? After all, it would be interesting. But just agreeing like that felt improper.

"Alright, I'll take a look at this 'Lord Mayer,' but without substantial evidence of the impending Armageddon, I won't commit, pardon me."

And that settled it.

The situation with Yumiko, the diminutive Japanese pureblood vampire, was more intriguing. She had no objections to swearing allegiance to the newly appeared lord, but only if he proved his strength first.

Negotiating with the rest went relatively smoothly, with Federico's reputation playing a significant role in convincing them. However, he also managed to discover what might be the most effective argument. The sun. All, without exception, vampires feared sunlight and, at the same time, somewhere deep within, longed for it. Many purebloods, especially the ancient ones, were willing to serve even the devil himself if he granted them light... but not all of them pleased the old Catalan.

In the end, all seven potential vassals arrived at a unanimous decision. They were willing to serve, but first, the future suzerain had to prove his strength, provide evidence of the impending war he had mentioned through Federico, and in the case of a positive outcome and acceptance of their vows of loyalty, shield not only them but also their "offspring" from the sun's effects, who would consequently also enter into his service.

And so, a private charter flight requested landing at the New York airport. The Count cast his gaze over his companions once more. The cheerful and carefree Grigori, or the one who wore the mask of a cheerful and carefree guy; the petite Yumiko, always with a smile and squinting eyes (in other words, Ichimaru Gin in a skirt); the perpetually dissatisfied Manfred; the contemplative Oleg; the carefree Olga (indeed, what worries could one of the most renowned mercenaries have?); the tranquil as a rock Lee (his real name couldn't be pronounced by anyone, not even the experienced Oleg, so they collectively named their Chinese colleague Lee, and he didn't object); and last but not least, Nissa - a rather young (barely 58 years old) pureblood vampire, the daughter of the head of a prominent coven in North America.

Twilight settled. The Catalan phoned his lord and requested an audience to introduce him to the candidates. A meeting with the potential vassals themselves was scheduled for four in the morning.

Walter Mayer. Evening.

Well, no shortage of troubles. And how do you suggest I gather evidence for them? Alright, demonstrating power is straightforward - there won't be any problems there. But the first point... At the moment, the evidence is sleeping soundly in the neighboring room, but I won't disturb Laura. Hm, I do have some memories from Kimura that indirectly confirm my conclusions, as well as information about Colonel Stryker and Project "Sentinel," drawn from my past world.

Hm... what if I transfer a portion of the mercenary's memories and provide some information for them to ponder? Ultimately, if they themselves discover such unsavory facts, verify the truth of my forecasts, they won't be able to accuse me of tampering or express doubt later. Yes, I think this is the best course of action now - to present some of Kimura's memories, with a "hit list" and a methodology for Laura, and to guide the vampire gentlemen (and ladies) towards where to dig further.

The only thing left is a minor detail - to learn how to transfer memories in a couple of hours. It's fortunate that I have two "volunteers" on hand; they don't have any brains left, so there's nothing to fry, but the process itself needs practicing - just the thing.

Ah, if they still had brains left, there would definitely be none after my attempts to transfer a portion of memories. The problem didn't lie in the transfer itself, but rather in controlling the amount of information being transferred. I couldn't manage to extract the necessary piece from my own memory. Transmitting it directly to the brain over twenty-plus years of life was boiling that brain, and although it could potentially make for an interesting defense against brain-suckers in the future (I don't trust that kindly old man in a wheelchair, I don't!), pinpoint transfer just didn't work out.

I had to take a different approach - infuse the needed memories into the "blood memory," pack that blood into the puppet, and then use the puppet to relay the information to the recipient (the second puppet). An anecdote about a programmer came to mind - well, I have a bad feeling about this. There's a simpler way to do it, but this works, and as usual, I'm running out of time to perfect it.

After sending Federico to greet the guests, I set about catching experimental material - before transferring data to vampires in this manner, I had to ensure that their memory could handle such intervention.

Glorious city of New York and its wonderful scoundrels, tirelessly providing researchers with human material in the form of hooligans and mere vagrants. Here I am, tapping into this inexhaustible resource. The initial experiments were... unsuccessful. Samples (I had to switch to combat mode - the manipulations required were too delicate and, consequently, demanded more computational power) displayed various deviations on the mental front, to put it plainly - they went insane. The cause was mental overload - I had to increase the time of information delivery. It's worth noting that various test subjects (only five, to collect initial statistics) had different perception capabilities, possibly linked to brain development (I doubt that hopnikus vulgaris often uses that organ), but for a more accurate conclusion, more data and material are needed...

Oh, it seems to have subsided. No, resorting to this mode in a combat situation is still viable, but using it to enhance analytical abilities... if I ever... suspect that doctors in concentration camps thought along similar lines... brrr. But what can I do - the state of extreme trance is about to become my standard, I have to use every opportunity, but how not to overdo it... in any case, I achieved what I needed - through a rather convoluted method, I can transfer the information I need, the main thing is not to rush.

Speaking of time - I'm starting to be a bit late, it's not proper to keep the guests waiting. Focusing on the upcoming conversation, I headed home; it was half-past three on the clock.