Chapter 75

Arc 6 - Ch 8: Hangover

Date: Saturday, June 25, 2011.

Location: Four Seasons Downtown, Manhattan, New York

The first rays of morning light filtered through the bedroom curtains causing Jubilee to stir. For a moment, she was disoriented, her mind still caught in the hazy remnants of sleep and the magical memories of the night before. She stretched languidly, feeling a bit of soreness, but that was expected after the night they'd had. Tangible proof that Tyson had used more than just his illusions to be intimate.

Rolling over, Jubilee found herself face to face with Tyson, his handsome features relaxed in sleep. She smiled softly, reaching out to trace the curve of his cheek with a gentle finger. But as her hand made contact, it passed through the illusion.

Tyson's disembodied voice echoed through the bedroom, "Come on out, breakfast is almost ready." His form flickered and dissipated, revealing the truth. She was alone in the bed. She sat up, confusion furrowing her brow. The Pokémon oasis that had seemed so real and tangible the night before was nowhere to be seen. Instead, she was surrounded by the luxurious trappings of Tyson's suite. But before disappointment could set in, Jubilee's senses were suddenly awash with the mouthwatering aroma of breakfast. The scent of sizzling bacon and freshly brewed coffee wafted through the air, accompanied by the faint sounds of movement from the kitchen.

Jubilee realized Tyson had let her sleep in while he prepared a morning feast for them to share. The illusionary version of him was just another sign of his thoughtfulness, a way to let her wake up gradually without feeling alone. Slipping out of bed, she padded barefoot towards the kitchen, the plush carpet soft beneath her feet. As she drew closer, she could hear Tyson humming softly to himself, the tune upbeat and cheerful. The sound brought a smile and a warmth to her chest.

Rounding the corner, Jubilee caught sight of Tyson. Dressed in long-sleeved pajamas with matching pants, he stood at the stove, tending to a pan of scrambled eggs.

A brilliant smile spread across his face as he saw her. "Morning, beautiful," he greeted, "I hope you're hungry. I might have gone a bit overboard with breakfast."

"Starving," she confirmed.

Tyson crossed the kitchen and she looped her arms around his waist. She rose on her toes to press a soft kiss to his lips, savoring the simple intimacy of the moment.

Jubilee settled into her seat, enthused by the fluffy pancakes and the steaming omelet on her plate. She reached for her fork, but a sudden flash of discomfort crossed her features.

"Ugh, the light," Jubilee groaned, shielding her eyes with her hand. "It's way too bright in here."

Tyson glanced up from his plate. "You okay, Jubes?"

Jubilee waved off his worry with a dismissive gesture. "Yeah, yeah, probably just hungover. Need my shades." She pushed back from the table and headed for the bedroom, rummaging through her bag until she found her signature pink sunglasses. Slipping them on, she returned to the table, picking up her fork once more.

She hesitated as she raised the omelet to her mouth. A strange sensation twisted in her gut. It was a visceral warning, letting her know something was wrong. She stared at the food on her fork, trying to decipher the source of her unease.

Tyson noticed her hesitation. "What's up, Jubes? Not a fan of my cooking?" he teased gently.

Jubilee shook her head, forcing a smile. "No, no, it's not that. I just..." She trailed off, unable to place the source of her apprehension.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed past the inexplicable dread and took a bite. The flavors burst on her tongue, rich and savory, but the moment she swallowed, a violent wave of nausea slammed into her. Jubilee lurched to her feet, the chair clattering to the floor behind her as she sprinted for the bathroom. She barely reached the toilet before the contents of her stomach surged back up. Jubilee retched and heaved, her body shuddering with the force of her sickness.

"Jubes are you okay?" He knelt beside her, one hand rubbing soothing circles on her back as she continued to retch.

When the worst of the nausea finally subsided, Jubilee slumped back against the cool tiles of the bathroom wall. Tyson handed her a damp towel and offered a glass of water, his brow furrowed with concern.

"What's wrong, Jubes? Was it the food? I didn't think you drank that much to be so hungover. I'm sorry, it's hard for me to tell anymore because alcohol doesn't affect me as much. And I didn't think you had any food allergies. I only used onions, pepper, and garlic, but..."

Jubilee shook her head, cutting off his anxious rambling. Tears welled in her eyes, spilling down her cheeks in hot, heavy trails. "It's not the food, Ty," she whispered, her voice raw and trembling.

Tyson's touch was gentle and reassuring. "Hey, hey, it's okay. It's, not a big deal. We'll order some soup if you're sick. It'll be fine."

But Jubilee pulled away, a choked sob tearing from her throat. "No, Ty, it's not okay. It's not going to be okay." With shaking hands, she pushed up the bracelets that encircled her wrist, revealing the angry red puncture marks that marred her skin.

Tyson's eyes widened as he took in the sight of the vampire bite, the implications hitting him like a physical blow. He reached out instinctively, his fingers hovering just above the wound, fear and concern etched into every line of his face.

"Jubes..." dread grew within his voice. "Why didn't you tell me?"

He saw the desperate, aching fear in her eyes, "I didn't want to say anything last night," she whispered, the words scraping from her throat. "Because I was having so much fun with you. Everything was going so well." A sad smile twisted her lips, more tragic than her tears. "It was perfect. I didn't want it to end." Jubilee swallowed, then forced out the rest in a pained rush. "I didn't want to die a virgin. But now... now I can feel it, Ty. The sunlight hurts my eyes. Garlic makes me sick." She shuddered, wrapping her arms around her body as if warding off a chill only she could sense. "I think I'm dying. Worse I'm turning into one of them."

But even as the enormity of their situation crashed down around them, Tyson gathered Jubilee into his arms, holding her close, "We'll find a way, Jubes," he murmured into her hair. He refused to accept this fate, to let Jubilee slip away without a fight. "Listen to me, Jubes. I'm not losing you. Not today, not ever. We're going to figure this out, together."

Jubilee searched his face, her lower lip trembling. "But the bite... the sickness... Tyson, I've seen the movies, I know what happens next."

Tyson shook his head, unwilling to concede. "We don't know how it works for certain," he insisted. "There could be a cure, a way to reverse the effects. I have resources and allies. I'll find a way."

He thought of Dr. Connors's brilliant scientific mind, of The Ancient One and sorcerers. Surely, between them, there had to be a solution… Then there was Blade.

She straightened slightly, drawing strength from his conviction. "You think we can beat this?" she asked, her voice tentative but tinged with the faintest hint of belief.

"We can," Tyson replied without hesitation. "You're a fighter, Jubes. You're not that same girl who froze up on that train last year. We'll get through this together."

Jubilee managed a watery smile, she leaned into Tyson, letting his strength and love wrap around her like a protective cocoon.

"Come on, we need to get ready," he said softly, pressing a tender illusionary kiss to Jubilee's forehead.

Jubilee's question came out timidly, "Where are we going?"

"To get an apology gift for a sorcerer," Tyson replied, "She's the best shot at fixing this." More reluctantly he added, "But the last time I saw her, I kind of threatened to kill her..."

Jubilee muttered "Great," but Tyson could see she was at least smiling. His admission diffused some of the tense uncertainty hanging over them. Giving her shoulder a reassuring squeeze, they disentangled themselves to get ready.

— Rogue Replacement —

Jubilee pulled up the hood of Tyson's oversized hoodie, shielding her sensitive eyes from the harsh glare of the sun as they stepped out onto the streets of New York. The journey uptown was a blur, Jubilee's mind still reeling from the revelation of her potential vampiric transformation. She clung to Tyson's hand, drawing strength from his solid presence beside her.

Their first stop was McNulty's Tea & Coffee Company, a quaint shop on Christopher Street. As they entered the rich aroma of tea and coffee wafted over them. Tyson approached the counter, "I need to place a special order. This tea, and an assortment of several others, one for each day. I want to arrange a regular, weekly delivery for the next ten years."

The employee blinked, taken aback by the unusual request. "I... I'm not sure we can accommodate such a long-term arrangement, sir," she stammered.

Tyson fixed her with a level stare. The employee's attention was fixed on his mismatched eyes.

"I assure you, you can."

"Of course, sir. We can."

As Tyson finalized the details, Jubilee watched him with confusion. "Ty, what are you doing?" she asked.

"Making amends," he replied, "And hopefully, securing the sorcerers' assistance."

With the tea order placed and paid for, Tyson took Jubilee's hand and led her back onto the street. He held the first of the regular deliveries in his other hand. Their next destination was 177A Bleecker Street.

As they climbed the steps to the front door of the New York Sanctum, Jubilee's heart raced with a mixture of fear and anticipation. She knew from the stories told by Tyson and Illyana that the building was the hub for the sorcerers in this country. She put her faith in Tyson. He seemed convinced if anyone could help her, it would be the sorcerers.

Tyson raised his hand to knock, but the door swung open before his knuckles could connect. The Ancient One stood in the doorway. She regarded the pair before her with a knowing gaze. "Tyson Smith, Jubilation Lee," she greeted, "Forgive me for opening the door before you had a chance to knock. Last time, I fear Tyson would've wrecked it had I not done so."

Tyson winced at the memory, a sheepish expression crossing his features. "Fair," he conceded. He held out the peace offering. "I brought your favorite tea, and arranged regular deliveries to the Sanctum."

The Ancient One looked at the proffered bag, her gaze inscrutable. For a long moment, she stood there, making Tyson shift uncomfortably. Just as he began to worry that she wouldn't accept his gesture, she reached out and took the bag.

Tyson let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, relief washing over him. "I'm sorry for threatening you at our last meeting," he said contritely, "My emotions got the best of me, and in a moment of weakness, I said some things that I should not have."

The Ancient One inclined her head, acknowledging his apology. "I knew that your response would likely be unfavorable," she replied, "But one can never be certain. I understand the reasoning for your reaction, though I caution you to be wary of how you allow your emotions, or perhaps the emotions of your other passengers, to control you."

Tyson knew all too well the dangers of letting the echoes of other minds sway his actions. But he also considered the Ancient One's words; her phrasing was unusual for someone who should have known what his response would be.

"I'm working on control," he admitted, "I thought I mostly had the other psyches suppressed, but there are moments where it's not always easy, but I'm trying."

She stepped aside, gesturing for them to enter the Sanctum. "Come in," she invited, "I know there is more to your visit than just an apology and a delivery of tea."

Together, they crossed the threshold into the Sanctum, the door swinging shut behind them with a soft click. The Ancient One led them to a small, intimate sitting room. She settled herself into a high-backed chair, gesturing for Tyson and Jubilee to sit on the sofa opposite her.

"Now," she said, "Tell me what brings you here."

"A vampire bit Jubilee," Tyson answered. With trembling hands, Jubilee pushed up the sleeve of the hoodie, revealing the angry red puncture marks that marred her skin. The Ancient One leaned forward, examining the wound with a critical eye.

"When did this happen?" she asked.

"Last night," Tyson supplied, "We were at a club, and it was filled with vampires. She was bitten in the fighting."

The Ancient One nodded, her expression inscrutable. "And have you noticed any changes since then? Increased sensitivity to sunlight, an aversion to garlic, a craving for blood?"

Jubilee swallowed hard, her voice trembling as she replied. "The sunlight, yes. And earlier, when I tried to eat, I got sick. Really, sick."

"The transformation is already beginning," she murmured, "But it is not yet complete."

Tyson leaned forward, hope warring with desperation in his eyes. "Is there anything you can do?" he asked, "Please, there must be some way to stop this, to save her."

The Ancient One was silent for a long moment, her gaze distant as she waged an internal debate. Finally, she spoke. "There is a book that exists," she said softly, "The Darkhold. The Book of Sins, the Tome of Eldritch Magic. It is one of the most ancient and powerful artifacts in existence. It is a repository of dark wisdom and forbidden spells."

He knew of the Darkhold, its corrupting influence, and the terrible price exacted from those who dared to delve into its pages.

"It is the key to understanding the origin of vampires," she continued, "For it was through the Darkhold that the first vampire came into being, and through its pages, the curse has been perpetuated throughout the ages."

"In the primordial dawn, before the rise of civilization, there was a being of great power known as Chthon. Chthon was banished from Earth, but not before his teachings and power were left behind within the pages of the Darkhold." As she spoke, the shadows seemed to deepen around them. "Chthon poured his knowledge and essence into the pages, imbuing it with a fragment of his dark soul. Through the book, he sought to shape the world to his will, to bend the forces of life and death to his command, and ultimately for it to be the instrument of his return from banishment."

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

"It was through the Darkhold that the first vampire was created," the Ancient One continued, her voice taking on a grim note. "A creature of the night, sustained by the blood of the living, cursed to an existence of eternal hunger and darkness. And from that first vampire, the curse spread, a plague upon the world that has endured for countless generations."

The Ancient One regarded them with a look of deep compassion. "The path ahead will not be easy," she said softly, "The curse of vampirism is a powerful one."

"Tell us what we need to do," he requested. "We're ready."

"The ritual to purge the vampiric taint will not be without risk," she warned.

"I'll do whatever it takes," he said, "I won't let this curse take her from me."

The Ancient One nodded gravely. "The Darkhold is a dangerous artifact. Even if I knew where it was hidden, I would not share that knowledge with anyone, and certainly not you, Tyson. The book corrupts all who come into contact with it, twisting their minds and souls." She continued, her voice taking on a note of cautious hope. "However, the sorcerers of the Sanctum are aware of a ritual that may purge the vampiric taint before those infected succumb to the curse. It is an ancient rite that requires a great sacrifice."

Jubilee leaned forward, her eyes wide with desperate hope. "What kind of sacrifice?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly.

The Ancient One met her gaze, her expression a mix of compassion and solemnity. "The ritual requires blood," she explained, "Blood untainted by the curse. Blood that carries within it a spark of the divine."

Jubilee's brow furrowed in confusion, her mind racing to make sense of the Ancient One's words. "Divine?" she repeated, her tone laced with disbelief. "Like gods? Gods are real? Where can we find a god willing to give us their blood?"

The Ancient One's gaze shifted to Tyson, her eyes boring into him with an intensity that seemed to strip away all pretense. He shifted uncomfortably under her scrutiny, a flicker of understanding dawning in his mismatched eyes.

Jubilee looked back and forth between them, her confusion only deepening. "Tyson is not a god... is he?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

The Ancient One shook her head but smiled faintly at the girl's misunderstanding. She answered, "No, Jubilation, he is not," her tone amused at the notion. "But he has met one recently."

"Thor," he breathed, "But he's on Asgard, and the Rainbow Bridge was destroyed, just like you said it would be..." His voice trailed off as another thought occurred to him. "Amora?" he asked hesitantly.

The Ancient One inclined her head. "The Enchantress, yes," she confirmed, "She is a being of great power, one who walks the line between the mortal and the divine. And she has taken a keen interest in you, Tyson, has she not?"

Memories of his encounters with the Asgardian sorceress flashed through his mind.

"What would we have to do?" he asked, "What would she want in return?"

"Amora's desires are her own," she replied, "But I can tell you this. The price she demands will be high, and the consequences of your choice will be vast."

Tyson felt Jubilee's hand tighten around his, in a silent plea for reassurance, for hope in the face of the impossible. "I'll do it," he said, "I'll pay whatever price she asks."

"Go now," she murmured, her voice soft but filled with quiet authority. "Seek out the Enchantress, if that is the path you choose. And Jubilation, know that should the day come when Tyson walks the path of the Mystic Arts, should you still be at his side, you would be welcomed at Kamar Taj."

"The ritual must be completed before the transformation sets in. When her heart no longer beats, it is too late," The Ancient One said as she led the pair to the Sanctum's entrance.

Tyson and Jubilee stepped out of the Sanctum, the weight of the daunting task settling heavily upon their shoulders. Just as they reached the pavement, Tyson paused. Turning back to face the Ancient One, he asked, "Do you know where I can find Amora?"

"I do not," she replied, her words carrying a note of enigmatic amusement. "She has been quite good at warding her magic and presence." Tyson's heart sank, the prospect of tracking down the elusive Asgardian sorceress seeming more daunting by the moment. But the Ancient One wasn't finished. "Had I not been monitoring your return," she continued, her voice taking on a tone of gentle admonishment, "I would not have been aware of her arrival. Amora may use magic, but her presence on Earth is not directly under the purview of the Sanctum's defensive purpose. She is yours to deal with."

Tyson felt a flicker of frustration at the Ancient One's words. But there was something else in her tone, a hint of satisfaction that set his teeth on edge.

"It's almost fitting that you must seek her out," the Ancient One said, her smile widening ever so slightly.

And then it hit him. This was more than just about saving Jubilee. It was a trial that the Ancient One had set before him.

Was this the cost she spoke about all those months ago?

Or just a way to atone for his transgressions; for the threat he had made against her the last time they had met.

Tyson felt a surge of irritation at the realization, a part of him bristling at the idea of being manipulated; of being forced to confront the consequences of his actions in such a way. But he pushed it down. He had come to her for help.

And The Ancient One had given it freely. The least he could do was face the challenge she set before him with a measure of grace and humility.

Plus, she was right.

Amora was his problem to handle.

So, despite the frustration simmering beneath the surface, Tyson bowed his head in respect and gratitude. "Thank you," he said softly, his voice genuine despite the unhappiness that colored his tone. "For your help, and your guidance. We won't forget it."

The Ancient One regarded him with a look of deep understanding. "I know you won't," she murmured, "And I have faith that you will find the strength within yourself to face the challenges that lie ahead."

With those parting words, she turned and retreated into the Sanctum, the heavy doors closing behind her with a sense of finality.

— Rogue Replacement —

Tyson raised his hand, hailing a cab from the busy New York street. As one pulled up to the curb, he ushered Jubilee inside, sliding in beside her and pulling the door shut with a definitive thud. He leaned forward, catching the driver's eye in the rearview mirror.

"House of M, please," he requested.

As the cab pulled away from the curb, merging into traffic, Tyson slumped back against the seat. He ran a hand over his face, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose as if to ward off an impending headache. Jubilee watched him with concern, her brow furrowed.

"Why are we going to the House of M?" she asked softly, her hand finding his and gently squeezing.

Tyson sighed, his mismatched eyes meeting hers with a look of weary determination. "There's no easy way to track Amora," he explained, "She's an Asgardian sorceress. The only lead on her location is an Asgardian dagger she held briefly, but even that's a long shot."

"So, what's our next move?"

Tyson hesitated, a flicker of reluctance passing over his features. "I hate to ask," he said slowly, "But we need to call the professor. Cerebro might be the only way to find Amora, and it's our best option."

Jubilee's eyes widened in surprise and understanding dawned in their depths. She knew how much it cost Tyson to admit they needed help, especially from Professor Xavier. But now she knew that he would do anything, put aside any personal reservations if it meant saving her life.

Without a word, Jubilee pulled out her phone to scroll through her contacts. She found Jean's number, pressed the call button, and brought the phone to her ear.

The line rang once, twice, before Jean's familiar voice came through, warm and concerned. "Jubilee? What's up? Is everything alright?"

"Jean, hey. Listen, we need your help. Well, the professor's help."

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line, a moment of confusion and worry. "Of course, anything. What's going on?"

"It's a long story, but in short I've been bitten by a vampire. We're trying to find a way to stop the transformation. We must find a goddess named Amora, who might be our only hope. But we have no way to track her down."

Jean's sharp intake of breath was audible through the phone. "Oh, Jubilee," she murmured, "I'm so sorry. Of course, we'll help. I'm sure the professor will locate Amora."

A wave of relief washed over Jubilee, the knot of tension in her chest loosening ever so slightly. "Thank you, Jean," she whispered.

As she ended the call, Jubilee turned to Tyson, a flicker of hope kindling in her eyes. "Jean is sure the Professor will help us," she said softly.

The cab sped through the streets of New York, carrying them towards the House of M and the next step in their desperate quest.

Tyson led Jubilee through the corridors until they were stopped by a familiar figure wrapped in a form-fitting black dress. Felicia Hardy greeted them with a warm smile. She pulled both Tyson and Jubilee into a tight hug.

As they pulled apart, Tyson asked curiously, "How'd your night go?"

"I got the serum. There were no issues or problems," she replied, confident that the heist had gone off without a hitch. Then, her attention shifted to Jubilee, a mischievous glint entering her eyes. "How'd the date go?" she asked, her tone light and teasing.

But before Tyson could respond, Jubilee's words tumbled out in a frantic, breathless rush. "The date was going fine," she began, her hands gesticulating wildly as she spoke. "We talked everything out and went to the club. We danced and drank and got close. But then blood started raining from the ceiling, and we got attacked by vampires!" Felicia's eyes widened, her mouth falling open in shock as Jubilee's story unfolded. "We fought them off," Jubilee continued, her voice rising with each word, "but I got bit and hid it. We made it back to his suite and made love. But now we need to find a magical goddess and get some of her blood, or I'll die and become a vampire!"

Silence fell over the hallway as Felicia turned to Tyson, her expression showed her disbelief and concern, silently asking for confirmation.

"She summed it up pretty well," he said, his tone a masterclass in understatement.

Felicia blinked, her mind racing to process the incredible tale she had just heard. But then, to everyone's surprise, a slow, devious grin spread across her face. She turned back to Jubilee, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Soo… How was he?" she asked, her voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper.

Jubilee's eyes widened, a startled laugh escaping her lips. A faint blush colored her cheeks. "He was... amazing," she admitted, her voice soft but filled with a quiet reverence. "Everything I could have hoped for and more. Gentle and caring, blended with just the right amount of being rough and demanding."

There was no disguising the warmth that spread through Tyson at Jubilee's tender words. Felicia regarded the intimate exchange with a fond smile, her eyes softening in genuine affection. "I'm happy for you both," she said earnestly, giving Jubilee's shoulder an encouraging squeeze. "Truly."

Despite the direness of her predicament, Jubilee couldn't resist the urge to tease Tyson further. Turning to Felicia with a playful lilt, she said, "You should have seen the look on his face when I asked if he wanted to go on a date with me, even though he hooks up with you all the time." She paused, biting back a grin. "When I said you were hot, he had the face of a man whose wildest dreams were about to come true."

Felicia laughed, caught off guard by Jubilee's boldness. But then her expression sobered as the gravity of their situation reasserted itself. "While I'm not opposed to stealing you away from Tyson for a night, it seems there are more pressing matters at hand," she said briskly, "Finding this goddess, securing what we need to save your life. That's the priority now. If you're curious about this cat, there will be time for that once you're safe."

And with that, the three turned and continued down the hallway. Tyson tried to put thoughts of Felicia and Jubilee's playful conversation out of his mind as he opened the door to the lab. Ivan Vanko hunched over a workbench, but looked up at the sound of their entrance.

"Tyson," Vanko greeted, his thick accent curling around the name. "What brings you to my domain?"

They took in the various projects scattered about. Felicia's exoskeleton hung from a rack. Tyson's eyes were briefly drawn to a small black box on Vanko's workbench. It was a project of the utmost importance. But he put thoughts of the black box aside, instead focusing on the Uru dagger mounted nearby.

"Is it possible to make a tracker to detect the unique metal?" he asked, nodding towards the weapon.

Vanko leaned back, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "Possible, yes," he mused. "The metal you call Uru has a distinct signature. A device could be calibrated to sense its presence."

"How long would it take to make?" he asked, his words coming fast and urgent. "And what would its range be?"

Vanko's brow furrowed, his mind visibly working through the calculations. "Tomorrow night," he said at last, "Half mile, maybe."

Tyson's shoulders slumped, the brief spark of optimism fading as quickly as it had come. He remembered all too well the exhausting search he and Illyana had conducted going block by block through the streets of Manhattan. Even with Vanko's device, and even if Amora had Uru in her possession, the odds of finding her were slim.

"Never mind. Keep working on your other projects." Tyson said, his tone heavy with resignation. "I'm going to take this," he said, reaching for the weapon. "Did you get all the scans of it?"

Vanko waved him off, his attention having refocused on the black box before him. "Da, da," he muttered, his words distracted. "Scans are in the computer. Take the dagger, do what you must."

Tyson's hand closed around the hilt of the Uru blade. He brought it close to his face, inhaling deeply. The barest hints of Amora's scent still clung to the metal.

Suddenly, Felicia's phone vibrated insistently, demanding attention. She pulled the device from her pocket, studying the screen. "Tyson," she said slowly, her voice tinged with concern. "Are you expecting company? A man in a black trench coat with what looks like a sword on his back is at the entrance."

Tyson cursed. Of course, now would be when Blade showed up.

After their confrontation at the club, it was only a matter of time before the dhampir tracked him down. Tyson referred to himself as a mutant and his illusions had made it obvious which one. But with Jubilee having been bitten, he couldn't risk a confrontation. But he also couldn't ignore Blade.

"Damn it," Tyson growled, his grip tightening on the Uru dagger. "Of all the times for him to show up."

"Want me to handle him?" Felicia asked.

Tyson shook his head, unwilling to pit Felicia against Blade. "No," he said, "This is my mess. I'll deal with it."

He turned to Vanko, his expression grave. "Ivan, Felicia's mission was a success. That means you're doing good work."

Vanko nodded, "I will keep doing so," he vowed before adding, "The black box will be ready soon."

Tyson managed a tight smile. He turned to Felicia, his mismatched eyes blazing with resolve. "Felicia, I need you to stay with Jubilee," he instructed, "Take her to Dr. Connors. Have him take a blood sample, then keep her safe, no matter what happens."

Felicia's gaze met his, "She's too cute to die, I'll make sure she's okay."

Tyson tucked the Uru dagger into his belt. With a final nod to his allies, he strode out of the lab. He quickly made his way through the halls of House of M toward the main entrance.

Deciding a direct approach might be the best course of action; he opened the door to face Blade head-on.

With a casual air, Tyson addressed the dhampir. "Come to check that I wasn't sleeping in a casket?" he quipped, "Or are you looking for a ticket to the show?"

Blade's response was far from amused. His eyes narrowed, his hand tightening on the hilt of his sword. "Were you or your girlie bitten last night?" he demanded.

Tyson met Blade's gaze defiantly. "Yeah," he admitted, the word blunt and unapologetic. "But I was also stabbed if you recall. Superhuman healing factor. I'm immune to diseases and vamp venom or whatever." Blade's stance remained tense, his expression unreadable. But Tyson pressed on, unintimidated, now that he knew his illusions worked on Blade.

"But I'm curious," he said, his tone conversational. "If a normie is bitten, what happens?"

The dhampir regarded Tyson for a long moment as if weighing the merits of sharing his knowledge. Finally, he spoke, his words clipped and clinical. "Vamp venom kickstarts production of ichor in the body," Blade explained, "A big dose of silver nitrate and garlic might stop it early enough, but the ichor production eventually replaces blood. Once you reach a certain point, goodnight girlfriend, hello suck-head."

Tyson nodded, absorbing the information with a grim set to his jaw. The clock was ticking down on Jubilee's humanity with every passing moment.

In a gesture of goodwill, Tyson held out his hand, his expression open and honest. "Tyson Smith," he introduced himself. "Also go as Mirage."

Hesitating for a fraction of a second before nodding curtly, Blade grasped Tyson's hand in a firm shake. "Blade," he said.

"I wiped the footage from the vamp security camera. I watched you fight. Pretty good unarmed. Saw your girl got bit."

Tyson met Blade's gaze, his own eyes burning with desperate hope. "Is it too late to dose her?" he asked.

Blade's answer was a blunt knife to Tyson's fragile optimism. "Yup. The mixture must be administered in the first few hours after a bite." The dhampir offered, "I can take care of her if you're not up to it."

"No chance," he replied. "With my healing, I'm an all-you-can-eat buffet. I can handle her."

Blade regarded him for a long moment as if weighing the sincerity of Tyson's words. Finally, he declined his head in acceptance. "Suit yourself," he said, "If I catch her in a hive or out in the streets feeding, I'm going to off her." It was a warning and a promise

"Understood," he ground out in bitter acceptance.

Blade turned to leave, his coat swirling behind him. But Tyson's voice stopped him, "If I kill the one who bit her, will it stop her from turning?" He asked hopefully.

Blade shook his head. "Movie myth. Won't work."

Tyson sighed but straightened. "Look, I'm not sure if you have a day job or whatever," he said, "but I'd guess that buying all that silver and leather gets expensive. I'm always looking for friends, and I don't like the idea of too many vamps in my city." Blade's expression remained unreadable, but Tyson pressed on regardless. "Call and ask for my assistant, Felicia. She'll contact me if you need help or we can arrange a deal if you need a financial backer."

With a curt nod, the dhampir turned and walked away.