Rogue Replacement: A Marvel Story

Chapter 81

Arc 6 - Ch 14: A Blade in Hand

Date: Tuesday, June 28, 2011.

Location: Four Seasons Downtown, Manhattan, New York

Tyson and Jubilee departed the Four Seasons hotel in downtown Manhattan, heading toward Chinatown. Tyson had avoided that neighborhood since the altercation with the Hand ninjas after leaving a training session at Chikara Dojo in February. He considered taking his motorcycle for the trip but decided against it. It was a lovely day, and Jubilee would enjoy traveling on foot; besides, they could both run faster than traffic if needed. Tyson remained unsure whether to confront Colleen or feign ignorance, but he knew he needed to check in with his sensei regardless. It had been four months, long enough for an average human to heal from the injuries he'd sustained. Plus, this outing presented an opportunity for Jubilee to venture out in public among groups of people to gauge how she fared. The pair set off eastbound. Chikara Dojo was only about a mile from the Four Seasons.

The route meandered indirectly due to the entrance to the Brooklyn Bridge crossing their path, so they headed south along Frankfort Street, passing under the promenade. They found themselves strolling down the sidewalk adjacent to Murry Bergtraum High School.

Jubilee's bright yellow jacket and bubbly personality had returned in full force. Tyson glanced at her, noting how she looked around with curious eyes as if seeing the city for the first time. Which she nearly was, thanks to her enhanced vampiric senses. He couldn't help but smile at her enthusiasm and how she seemed like her old self again.

"Nice day for a walk," Jubilee remarked cheerfully, her tone light.

"Yeah, it is," Tyson replied, trying to focus on the positives.

As they crossed the street, Jubilee glanced his way. "Are you worried about seeing your sensei again?"

Tyson hesitated before shrugging. "A little. Still trying to figure out what to say…. Hey, I know about the ninja group you're a part of that targeted me to test me. It seems like a terrible cold open."

Jubilee nodded sympathetically. "Well, whatever happens, you know you've got me. We're a team, right?" She mimed punching and kicking as they walked, "I might not be a ninja, but I'm super fast and can throw explosions. Together, no one can beat us!"

Tyson chuckled, feeling some of his concern fade away. "Right. Team Jubilee and Tyson."

They stood at the corner, waiting for the walk signal, when a familiar figure caught Tyson's eye to the north. A tall, broad-shouldered black man wearing a black leather trench coat strode down the sidewalk with a visible sword in a back-mounted scabbard. Not too many people fitting that description walked the streets of lower Manhattan.

Blade.

Tyson had crossed paths with the vampire hunter twice before. First in the nightclub after the blood rain and a second time when Blade came searching for Tyson at the House of M.

He had considered trying to contact the dhampir, but he lacked any means. Tyson glanced at Jubilee. Thanks to the regenerative properties of his blood running through her veins, she could withstand sunlight despite being turned into a vampire. Still, Tyson hesitated to bring Jubilee anywhere near Blade. But he knew his illusions would fool the dhampir if needed. Tyson could cover Jubilee's escape if things went south. Plus, he doubted a random opportunity to cross paths with Blade would present itself again.

So, instead of crossing east with the light, Tyson gently guided Jubilee north toward the entrance of James Madison Plaza, where Blade had just ducked inside. Tyson kept his senses on high alert as they approached, ready to react to any confrontation.

Jubilee looked at Tyson, uncertainty creeping into her voice. "Why do you seem so on edge all of a sudden?"

Tyson hesitated before answering. "I just caught sight of Blade up there. We can't pass up what might be our only chance to make contact. Just stay close and follow my lead if things get hairy. Worst case, I can throw up some illusions to cover your escape back to the hotel."

Jubilee nodded, her previously cheerful demeanor replaced by caution. She scanned their surroundings, eyes peeled for any potential threats. As they entered the small park, Tyson spotted Blade near the central fountain, locked in a standoff with a pale, well-dressed man holding a young child somewhat threateningly in his arms.

Tyson recognized the pale vampire instantly. "That's Deacon Frost, a vamp." he said in a low voice, "I saw this confrontation in my vision. Frost will throw that girl into the path of an oncoming bus to distract Blade. Then he'll try to escape while Blade chooses between pursuing him or saving the girl."

Jubilee's brown eyes widened in surprise as she studied Deacon Frost. "How can he be out in broad daylight?" she asked.

"Sunscreen," Tyson replied with a derisive sniff.

"What a poser," Jubilee mocked. "What's the plan?"

"I don't want you intervening in the fight." he said, "Blade uses silver bullets and a tendency to shoot first and ask questions later. One stray projectile could kill you permanently."

"So what's the plan?"

"When Frost throws the girl, you zip in with your super-speed and catch her before the bus hits her," Tyson said. "I'll try to stop Frost, though he may be too fast for me. I'm going to move a little closer. Watch Frost closely for when he throws the girl. That's your signal."

"Since I started hanging out with you, my life sure has taken a morbid twist." She commented, only partly joking.

Tyson edged closer, cloaking himself in an illusion to conceal his presence from Blade. He feigned nonchalance as he moved, not wanting to draw Frost's attention. Tyson knew better than to approach too near, as the scent of his blood could easily entice the vampire.

Frost held a young girl captive, grinning wickedly at Blade. "We wouldn't want our little friend here to end up plastered on the back of a milk carton, now would we?" Frost's voice dripped with malicious amusement, savoring the moment. Blade reluctantly lowered his hand, eyes wary and watchful. Frost inhaled deeply, relishing the scent of life around him. "Beautiful day, isn't it?" he taunted.

"How can you be out here?" Blade asked confused.

"I dabble in pharmaceuticals and medical research," Frost replied smoothly. "We've developed a type of sun-blocker using octyl salicylate and a few other ingredients." He touched a finger to his cheek, rubbing the pale lotion between his fingers. "It's not very effective in direct sunlight, but it's a start. The goal, of course, is to be like you, the 'Day-walker.'"

Blade's eyes narrowed with skepticism. "I don't buy it."

"Why not?" Frost countered. "The future of our race flows through your veins. You have the best of both worlds, Blade. All of our strengths and none of our weaknesses."

"Maybe I don't see it that way," Blade responded flatly.

"Oh, back to pretending we're human again, are we?" Frost's tone turned mocking. "Spare me the Uncle Tom act. You can't keep denying what you are. You're one of us, Blade. You always have been."

"You're wrong," Blade stated firmly.

"Am I?" Frost challenged. "You think the humans will ever accept a half-breed like you? They can't. They fear us because we're superior. They cower because, in their hearts, they know their race has become obsolete."

Frost regarded the passing street vendors with unveiled contempt. "Look at them," Frost said, his voice dripping with disdain. "Just an endless herd of cattle stampeding blindly toward the slaughterhouse."

With a sneer, Frost lifted a silver flask to his pale lips and took a long swig of blood. He smacked his lips with relish and sighed contentedly. "Refreshing," he quipped, then offered the flask to Blade. "Care for some? I can tell by your expression it smells simply mouthwatering. Pungent, with just an irrepressible hint of iron."

Blade's stony expression did not change. "Pass," he stated flatly.

"You sure now?" Frost persisted. "I tapped a newborn for this batch. You won't find a vintage sweeter than that."

It took every ounce of Blade's formidable self-control to restrain himself from attacking Frost then and there. The vampire sensed the carefully leashed violence simmering within the other man and pressed one long, sharp thumbnail against the child's vulnerable jugular. The little girl whimpered in fear.

"Tell me honestly. Do you get the same visceral thrill from that pasteurized piss serum of yours?" He noted the tightening of Blade's jaw and laughed. "Surprised I know about your serum? You shouldn't be. I know everything about you, Daywalker. You can't keep walking this razor's edge forever, Blade. The day is coming, and soon, you'll have to choose a side. Our kind or theirs. If I were you, I'd take care not to end up on the wrong end of the fang."

A single bead of sweat ran down Frost's neck, washing away a small patch of the sun-blocking cream he wore. The exposed flesh instantly blackened and blistered. "Looks like your mascara is running," Blade commented evenly.

"Love to continue this little chat, but..." Frost began as he started to rise.

"You're not going anywhere," Blade interrupted, his voice low and dangerous.

"Watch me," Frost growled.

His eyes flickering toward the street was the only warning before he hurled the young girl directly into the path of the oncoming city bus. Before her small body could collide with the flimsy vendor's stall or reach the busy street, Jubilee was there in a flash, catching the child safely in her arms.

Blade swiftly drew his Modified Mack 11 from its holster and fired three thunderous shots at the vampire. Frost dodged the bullets, then turned and dashed away from the park, moving almost too fast for the human eye to follow. Tyson rushed to intercept the fleeing vampire, but Frost's supernatural speed proved too great.

Unable to close the distance, he held his hand out and flexed his will. The Uru dagger appeared within. Tyson's fingers tightened on the mystical weapon's hilt as he brought it around in a sweeping arc and hurled it at Frost's retreating form. The enchanted dagger tumbled end over end through the air, but the vampire dodged at the last possible second, the blade sinking harmlessly into a nearby tree trunk with a solid thunk.

Blade continued firing round after sizzling round at the fleeing Frost, who twisted and dodged, his speed allowing him to narrowly evade the gunfire. But Tyson had already anticipated Frost's movements. With a flick of his wrist, another glimmering Uru dagger materialized in his grip. In a single fluid motion, Tyson hurled the weapon again. This time, the enchanted dagger buried itself into Frost's shoulder with a meaty thunk.

The vampire let out an agonized hiss, crashing sideways into a brick building as he desperately tried to escape. Frost stumbled, his supernatural grace momentarily failing as he struggled to wrench the mystical dagger from his back. Dark blood oozed from the wound. Seizing the opportunity, Blade fired another shot, the UV round passing mere inches from Frost's head as the vampire lurched forward.

Tyson watched, muscles coiled and ready to conjure more daggers. But the gravely injured Frost, now bleeding profusely, managed to lurch into a nearby alley, disappearing from view into the shadows.

Blade's gaze followed the vampire's hasty retreat for a moment before he turned to Tyson, his craggy features set in a look of grudging respect. "Nice throw," Blade muttered in his gravelly baritone. "But I'm not letting that fanger get away." He glanced over at Jubilee, who was gently comforting the frightened girl they had just rescued.

"We got the girl. Go get him, Blade!" Tyson called out encouragingly. As Blade took off after the wounded Frost, Tyson held out his hand, and the Uru dagger reappeared in his grip. Tyson wondered if the temporary mystical copy he had conjured was still embedded in Frost's back. If not, Blade would have an easy trail of blood to follow.

Jubilee stayed with the frightened young girl, wrapping a comforting arm around her slender shoulders. Her voice was gentle and soothing as she helped the child find her parents, who had been frantically searching the park for any sign of their beloved daughter. Once Jubilee safely reunited the girl with her distraught but overjoyed family, she scanned the area for any trace of Blade. But the formidable vampire hunter had not returned after pursuing the wounded Frost into the surrounding city.

After waiting nearly twenty minutes without sign of Blade's return, Jubilee remarked, "Looks like he's not coming back anytime soon."

Tyson shrugged, "We should head to Chikara Dojo. No use waiting around here."

Together, they set off, leaving the small park for the dojo. As they walked, Jubilee's eyes sparkled with excitement, "That was so intense!" she exclaimed, "I mean, it was terrifying but also crazy thrilling!"

Tyson chuckled as his nerves finally settling since the danger had passed. "Yeah, it really was," he agreed, smiling at her infectious enthusiasm, "You were amazing out there, Jubes. You saved that girl's life."

Jubilee's cheeks flushed slightly at the praise. "Yeah, I really am a hero now, aren't I?" she replied, beaming with pride. "And that magic dagger is so cool!" Her tone was filled with admiration as she glanced at the ornate blade strapped to his belt. "Does it have a name yet?"

Tyson shook his head. "Nope. You want to give it one?" he offered.

Jubilee's eyes lit up at the prospect. "Ooh, how about Sting?" she suggested eagerly.

"Too cliché," Tyson dismissed with a wave of his hand.

"Hmm...Dragonfang?"

"Name's already taken," he informed her.

Jubilee hummed thoughtfully as they continued onward. "Well, you got it from the trickster god Loki, and you're an illusionist. Maybe something tied to that theme..."

Together, the two friends made their way toward the dojo, with Jubilee enthusiastically calling out potential names for the Uru dagger sheathed at Tyson's back.

Tyson and Jubilee strolled down the street. "I think I prefer the single-word names best," Tyson commented, glancing sidelong at his enthusiastic companion. "It's a dagger, not a sword, so it should have a short name."

"Okay. How about Glamour?" she suggested eagerly as her mind rifled through possibilities.

Tyson pursed his lips, considering. "Kinda like that," he conceded after a moment.

The teenage girl was practically bouncing on her toes now, thrilled to be helping name the powerful artifact. "Oooh, since your show is called House of M and your name is Mirage, you should name your weapon something that begins with M, too!" She thought for a second, her brow furrowing in concentration, before suggesting, "Malice, Meddle... No wait! I've got it!" She paused dramatically, holding up a finger, then delightedly exclaimed, "Muse!"

Tyson rolled the name around in his mind, tasting it, feeling its shape on his tongue. A slow smile spread across his face. "I love it," he declared. Jubilee let out a whoop of excitement, pumping her fist in triumph at finding the perfect name for the Asgardian dagger. Together, the two friends made their way toward the dojo, Tyson now with the newly christened Muse sheathed comfortably at his back.

He held open the door to the dojo for Jubilee, the chimes announcing their arrival into the quiet space. No classes were in session, and the mats were empty. Colleen emerged from the back room at the sound, her face reflecting relief at the sight of Tyson.

"Tyson," she asked hesitantly, "are you alright? I haven't seen you in months."

"I'm sorry about that," Tyson apologized. "The last time I was here, I fought with some locals after class. I wasn't able to come back for a while."

Colleen's expression became visibly conflicted. Of course, she knew what had happened. She had watched as Bakuto tested Tyson that night. The young man had always paid her in cash, so she had no address to follow up on his absence or injury.

"But I was hoping to continue my training," Tyson added.

Colleen frowned, clearly wrestling with whether she should accept Tyson as a student again. The Hand's interest in him had put the young man in danger. She had spent the last few months sick with worry, conflicted about what to do regarding the Hand and the dojo. Tyson's disappearance had become an issue she didn't have to face immediately. With him standing before her, the problem felt real and present again.

"I don't know that our previous arrangement is appropriate anymore."

Tyson's face fell. "If this is about the fighting, I promise I tried to de-escalate things. Those guys wouldn't back down. I don't think they'd target me here, but I understand if you don't want me bringing trouble to the dojo." He glanced over at Jubilee, then met Colleen's eyes again, his pleading. "I just want to get stronger, to protect the people I care about." He motioned towards the girl he had brought. "I was also hoping you'd train some of my friends too. I'd pay the same fee for them. But if you can't train me, I understand."

Colleen's expression softened as she took in Tyson's words and the way he looked at the young girl with him. Tyson could see the conflict in Colleen's eyes as she weighed her words carefully before speaking. "It's not that I'm worried about you bringing trouble to the dojo," she finally admitted, her voice tinged with concern. "I'm more concerned that continuing to come here could put you in danger."

Her admission took Tyson by surprise. He hadn't expected her to forbid him from returning out of concern for his safety. Glancing over at Jubilee, Tyson came to a decision.

"I appreciate your concern," he said earnestly, "But if I can prove it's unfounded by beating you in a spar, will you at least hear me out?"

Colleen's eyebrows shot up in curiosity at his bold proposal. She studied him for a long moment as if gauging his determination before finally inclining her head in agreement. "Alright, Tyson," she said, "Let's see what you've got."

Colleen and Tyson faced each other in the center of the polished wood floor, the afternoon light filtering through the tall windows. Colleen settled into a fighting stance, her feet shoulder-width apart, knees bent, hands curled into loose fists. Her eyes narrowed with a laser focus on her opponent as her body tensed in readiness.

Colleen launched forward, aiming a quick jab towards Tyson's midsection to test his reactions. But Tyson moved with unnatural speed, effortlessly twisting his torso out of the path of her strike. Colleen pressed her attack, throwing punches and kicks in quick succession, but Tyson evaded them all. She ground her teeth in frustration as her strikes met only air. Tyson's evasive defense left her unable to land a single blow. Before she could regroup, he flowed around her guard and tagged her ribs with a gentle, stinging slap. She blinked in surprise at the unexpected counterattack. It was clear he had become much faster since their last match.

Colleen reset her stance, shifting her weight to the balls of her feet. A bead of sweat trailed down her temple as she reassessed her opponent. She would need to adapt if she hoped to penetrate his defenses.

Tyson's smile broadened, his mismatched eyes alight with excitement. "Ready for round two?" he asked, beckoning her forward. She let out a slow breath, then launched at him again, determined to wipe the grin off his face.

He effortlessly dodged another of her attacks. No matter how quickly she struck or fiercely she lunged, he slipped away like smoke.

In the second round, she had fared no better against his speed. Each jab met only air as Tyson sidestepped with the fluidity of flowing water. He turned her momentum against her, using subtle shifts of weight and angle to redirect her energy away from him.

In the third round, Colleen pulled out all the stops, throwing her full strength into the offensive. Yet, despite her best efforts, she could not seem to lay a finger on her elusive opponent. Tyson moved with unnatural grace, gliding just out of reach no matter how she tried to corner him. His smile remained infuriatingly fixed, his mismatched eyes dancing with amusement.

Colleen stood panting as the third round ended, sweat beading her brow. Frustration and reluctant admiration warred within her. Tyson remained calm and composed, looking for all the world as if they had just shared a pleasant stroll rather than an intense sparring match.

"I think I've proven my point," he said gently but with a mixture of respect and playfulness coloring his tone.

Colleen let out a long breath, schooling her features as she nodded. "I suppose you have," she admitted. "You've become much stronger."

From the sidelines, Jubilee burst into enthusiastic applause. "Good fight!" she cheered.

"So, will you agree to hear me out?" he asked Colleen hopefully.

Colleen considered him for a moment, then nodded. A genuine smile broke through despite herself. "Alright, Tyson," she conceded warmly. Let's talk." She was impressed by his improvement and curious to hear what he had to say.

Tyson gestured toward the door, wary of potential surveillance devices hidden in the dojo. He led Colleen and Jubilee out for a walk back to the park where they had encountered Blade earlier. The park was only a few blocks away, and Tyson would be able to keep watch for the vampire hunter's possible return.

Jubilee bounced beside them as they strolled down the sidewalk and introduced herself with a bright smile. "Hi, I'm Jubilee," she said enthusiastically. "I'm a big fan of ninjas!"

Colleen's expression lightened at the girl's enthusiasm. "Well, it's nice to meet you, Jubilee," she replied warmly. "And I'm glad you like ninjas. It just so happens I know a thing or two about them."

When they reached the peaceful grounds, Tyson glanced around, scanning for any sign of Blade. Satisfied the vampire hunter had not returned, he turned to Colleen, ready to discuss the matter that had brought them there. The tranquil surroundings seemed like a good place for serious conversation, and the three of them settled onto a bench, prepared to talk openly without fear of eavesdroppers.

Tyson carefully weighed his options. He did not want to manipulate Colleen's mind and force her to trust him, but he could not reveal the whole truth about his abilities. A half-truth seemed the best path forward.

"I know you've wondered where I'm getting my money," Tyson began, his voice low and earnest. He noted the concern furrowing her brow. "It probably seemed suspicious for a high school student with no family to have the cash I do suddenly."

Colleen nodded slowly, her eyes never leaving Tyson's face. She remained silent, letting him speak.

"I'm not involved in anything illegal like selling drugs. I've been working a security job that pays very well. My employer took notice of how much I've improved under your training. He wants to hire you to teach the rest of his staff martial arts."

At this, Colleen leaned back slightly, skepticism returning to her expression. "And who exactly is this generous employer of yours?" she asked pointedly.

Tyson hesitated, carefully considering his response.

"The superhero Mirage," Tyson finally answered, watching Colleen closely for her reaction.

Her eyes widened in surprise. Whatever employer she had imagined, a superhero was not it. "Mirage?" she echoed in disbelief.

Tyson nodded, maintaining steady eye contact. "Yes. Mirage thinks your skills would make you the perfect trainer for his team."

Colleen Wing looked at Tyson, scrutinizing him for the first time in months. She noticed his wild hair and muscular build, recalled the tight black suit he often wore during training, and focused on his mismatched blue and green heterochromatic eyes. And she gasped in realization.

"It's you. You're Mirage," she breathed, her eyes widening in shock.

Jubilee laughed, pointing at Tyson. "Busted!"

Tyson chuckled. "Yeah, I did drive things a little too close to home there." He met Colleen's gaze with a sheepish grin. "You got me, sensei."

Colleen sat back, stunned. She'd been worried about him all these months, and here he was, not just alive and well, but a superhero. She leaned forward, her brow furrowing. "Were you hurt badly by the ambush?"

Tyson shook his head. "No. I would've come by sooner, but I've been busy. And it just happened to line up with an appropriate amount of time for me to heal."

Colleen thought about how often she'd seen Mirage in the news recently. The pieces were falling into place. "I see," she said, still mulling things over.

After a moment of silence, Colleen took a deep breath. "I can't instruct you any longer, nor can I instruct your employees," she admitted, her voice tinged with regret.

Tyson frowned. "Why not?"

Colleen hesitated, then decided to be forthright. "The people who attacked you are a group known as the Hand." Tyson raised an eyebrow, surprised at her forwardness. He hadn't expected her to volunteer such information. She continued, "They were testing you. They think you're the Black Sky."

Tyson took the opening to hopefully gain some clarification. "What is the Black Sky?"

Colleen glanced around the park, making sure no one was within earshot. When she spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper. "The Black Sky is a prophecy for one destined to lead the Hand."

He had known about the Hand and recalled them mentioning the Black Sky but didn't know what it meant. "And they think I'm this... Black Sky?"

Colleen nodded solemnly. "That's why I can't continue training you. The Hand are dangerous, Tyson. More dangerous than you can imagine."

Jubilee spoke up. "But if they're so dangerous, doesn't that mean Tyson needs more training, not less?"

"It's not that simple. The more I train him, the more skilled he becomes and the more attention he'll draw from the Hand. They'll see it as confirmation of their beliefs."

"But I've already drawn their attention. Wouldn't it be better if I was prepared to face them?"

Colleen sighed, conflict evident in her eyes. "It's not just about physical preparation. The Hand has ways of getting into your head, of manipulating you. The better you become, the more they'll want you."

"So, tell us more about the Hand. What exactly are we up against?"

"The Hand is an ancient organization, older than you can imagine. They've been pulling strings behind the scenes for centuries, manipulating events to suit their needs."

"What do they want?" Jubilee asked, her earlier excitement tempered by Colleen's serious tone.

"Power, influence, immortality," Colleen replied. "They seek to control everything from the shadows. And they believe the Black Sky is key to achieving that goal."

"But why me? What did they learn from their ambush that makes them think I'm this Black Sky?"

"The Black Sky prophecy is an ancient belief held by the Hand. They believe that a warrior of unparalleled skill and potential will arise, one who can lead them to ultimate power and domination. The prophecy speaks of a fighter with physical prowess and a unique connection to the mystical forces that the Hand seeks to control," Colleen continued. "They believe this individual will be able to harness and channel these forces in ways even the most skilled Hand members cannot."

"But how do they know who this Black Sky is supposed to be?" Jubilee asked.

"That's the thing," she explained. "They don't know for certain. The Hand is constantly searching and testing potential candidates. They look for signs, for individuals with extraordinary abilities or potential." her expression grew more serious. "You faced multiple trained members of the Hand. You were unarmed, outnumbered, and caught by surprise. Yet, you held your own and managed to defeat them."

Tyson nodded slowly, recalling the fight that had unfolded that night. He had relied mostly on his combat training, but it must have seemed like an impossible feat to the outside observer.

"To the Hand," Colleen continued, "this display of skill and raw potential was a significant red flag. It aligned with many traits they believe the Black Sky should possess. Exceptional combat prowess, adaptability, and the ability to overcome seemingly insurmountable odds."

"But that doesn't mean Tyson is this Black Sky, right?"

Colleen shook her head. "No, it doesn't. The Hand has had many candidates, and none have proven to be the true Black Sky. But that doesn't make the situation any less dangerous."

Tyson had known the Hand was interested in him, but he hadn't realized the extent of their beliefs or the potential consequences of their attention.

"What exactly does the Hand do with these candidates?"

Colleen's expression darkened. "They test them, push them to their limits," she explained. "If a candidate shows promise, the Hand will attempt to bring them into the fold, to mold them into the leader they believe the Black Sky should be."

"And if the candidate refuses?"

"Then the Hand will do whatever it takes to either control them or eliminate the threat they pose. They cannot risk a potential Black Sky falling into the hands of their enemies or becoming a force that opposes them."

Jubilee's eyes widened as a realization struck her. She turned to Colleen, her voice filled with curiosity and a hint of concern. "Wait a minute. If they knew about Tyson's illusions, wouldn't that make them think he was the Black Sky even more? I mean, it's an extraordinary ability, almost mystical."

Colleen nodded emphatically, her expression grave. "Exactly. It's why I can't train you," she said, directing her words to Tyson. "I can't be anywhere near you. They'd use me to stay close to you, to bring you in. When we first met, I wouldn't have thought twice about it, but after the callous way they tested you, who knows what else they'd do."

"Don't worry, teach. I can handle more than a few ninjas."

"Even still, I'm not going to put you in that kind of danger. You're a good man. And now that I know who you are, I see how much good you've done."

"You've demonstrated you can fight. Your technique isn't perfect. It never was. You aren't a natural fighter." She paused, a hint of pride creeping into her voice. "But you have enough of a base that you can build from it without me. I always aimed to create that base." Colleen's eyes met Tyson's meaningfully. "And you did that with all the hours and hard work you put in. Keep training, and you'll keep growing. You spent more time in the dojo than anyone. You can train your people. You don't need me."

Tyson felt a twinge of disappointment settle in his chest. Despite his desire to continue training with Colleen, he understood why she wanted to distance herself. The Hand's interest in him didn't pose a threat to himself, but it might to those around him. After a moment of contemplation, Tyson nodded, accepting her decision.

He stood and bowed deeply to Colleen.

"Thank you for your instruction," Tyson said, his voice filled with genuine gratitude. As he straightened, he met Colleen's gaze once more. "If you ever need my help, you'll know where to find me."

Jubilee watched the exchange with a hint of sadness. She could see the respect between Tyson and Colleen and remained quiet.

Colleen stood as well, returning Tyson's bow with equal respect. Her eyes shimmered with a hint of moisture, but her voice remained steady. "You've come a long way, Tyson. I'm proud of your progress and the man you've become."

Jubilee decided to lighten the mood. She bounced on her toes, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. "So, Tyson, does this mean I get to be your new sparring partner? I promise I won't go easy on you!"

Tyson couldn't help but chuckle at Jubilee's infectious energy. "I don't doubt it for a second," he replied, grateful for the momentary distraction.

Colleen smiled at the exchange, appreciating Jubilee's attempt to lift the mood. She turned to the young mutant. "Take care of him. And make sure he doesn't slack off on his training."

Jubilee gave Colleen a mock salute. "You can count on me, sensei!"

"Stay safe, Tyson. And remember, the Hand is always watching. Be careful."

With those final words of caution, Tyson and Jubilee began to walk away. As they made their way through the park, Tyson felt a chapter of his life closing behind him. The training with Colleen had been a constant in his life at Midtown, a foundation upon which he had built so much. Now, he would have to forge ahead on his own.

— Rogue Replacement —

Blade stepped back into his workshop. Frustration etched on his face after losing track of Frost. Some familiars had run interference, leaving him chasing a decoy into the night. As he entered the dimly lit room, he immediately sensed something was off. The place was ransacked; their tools and equipment were strewn about haphazardly, and furniture overturned.

Moving cautiously, Blade scanned his surroundings. Then he noticed a body slumped against some lab equipment with blood pooled beneath it. He pulled down the collar and saw the tattoo on the back of the neck.

It was the mark of a vampire's familiar.

Blade's expression hardened, and he pulled out one of his Mac 11s, moving forward with caution. As he entered the central part of the lab, he stopped dead in his tracks.

There was a bedsheet covering the chair with a blood stain. Blade approached and couldn't bear to look at the sheet as he removed it, knowing what he would find.

Whistler, his mentor and closest ally, was sitting motionless. It was clear he had been tortured. His face was battered and swollen, his clothes were torn, and everything was soaked with blood. The sight hit Blade like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, his resolve faltered.

"Whistler..." Blade muttered.

In response to Blade's voice, a faint moan escaped the dying man's cracked lips.

Blade grabbed some gauze, and gently, he dabbed at the blood that covered Whistler from his various wounds and lacerations. But then Blade saw them.

Two ragged puncture marks along Whistler's throat, still oozing blood.

"Jesus, Whistler, what did they do to you?" Blade muttered, his voice choked with emotion.

Whistler opened his eyes, struggling to speak through split and swollen lips. "Frost took her—" he began, his voice a hoarse whisper. He spasmed and coughed, fresh blood bubbling up as he winced in pain.

"Don't try to talk," Blade urged, his eyes filled with worry as he went through the motions of cleaning the wounds, though he knew they were fatal.

"Listen to me," Whistler insisted. "The disk, we decoded it. Frost is trying to trigger a fucking vampire apocalypse. There's some vampire god he's trying to resurrect. La Magra."

Blade's jaw tightened at the name.

"A dozen purebloods, one from each sect. La Magra's vessel gets all their uniqueness," Whistler continued weakly. "But, you're the key. He needs your blood. The blood of the daywalker. You're the chosen one. Listen, Blade, you can't go after him."

"Bullshit," Blade spat out angrily.

"If Frost gets his hands on you, it's all over. The vamp god will have no weaknesses. Humans will turn to vamps just being in its presence. There'll be armies of the motherfuckers," Whistler claimed before wincing again in pain as Blade continued trying to stop the bleeding.

"You have to...finish me off. Don't let me come back as one of them."

"No, we can treat the wounds..." Blade started to argue, but Whistler was already shaking his head weakly in refusal.

"It's too far gone. You know that," Whistler reminded him solemnly. "Give me your gun."

"No," Blade said adamantly.

"Give me the goddamned gun."

After a pause, Blade reluctantly pulled out his gun and placed it in Whistler's trembling hand.

"Now walk away, you stupid son of a bitch," Whistler ordered weakly.

Blade didn't move, his hand still over Whistler's, holding the gun steady. "Walk the fuck away," Whistler said again, more firmly this time.

Blade finally turned and walked away, making it less than a dozen paces before the gunshot echoed behind him.

As Blade walked away from the final moments of his only friend, his gaze caught on a camcorder resting nearby, labeled, "PLAY ME." Suspicion flared, and he reached for the device, knowing in his gut that Frost had left him a final mocking gift.

He cued the tape, and Frost's smug face appeared on the tiny built-in screen. "Hello, Blade. By the time you watch this, Whistler will no doubt be winging his way to Heaven, thanks to your capable hands." Frost touched a deep gash that ran across his cheek. "If it makes any difference to you, he put up quite a fight."

Frost's icy blue eyes glinted with malice. "Now, I'm sure you're wondering about Ms. Jansen's well-being. She's alive and kicking, or 'ambulatory,' as they like to say in the trade." His grin widened, revealing the points of his fangs. "Whether or not she remains so is entirely up to you."

Leaning in close to the camera, Frost whispered, "I'll make this as easy as possible for you, Blade. You can find us at the Edgewood Towers. We'll be waiting with bated breath."

The tape cut to static. Blade stared at the black screen, jaw clenched, barely containing the tidal wave of rage surging through him. With a roar of anger, he hurled the camcorder against the concrete wall. It shattered into a dozen pieces of broken plastic.

Blade stood alone in the workshop, methodically preparing for the coming battle. The pungent smell of molten silver filled the air as he cast bullets. Row upon row of syringes filled with EDTA, an anti-coagulant that would cause vampires to explode, lay assembled before him.

Pausing in his work, Blade closed his eyes and steadied his breathing, seeking to center himself. In the stillness, his thoughts turned to his mentor, Whistler. The old man was dead at the hands of Deacon Frost. Though he tried to shut it out, the hollow ache of that loss throbbed within his chest. Whistler had always watched his back, pulling his ass out of the fire more times than Blade cared to recall. Without the cantankerous old hunter at his side, this fight felt like a suicide mission. Blade was no fool. He knew Frost likely had dozens of vampires awaiting him, and to walk into such a deathtrap alone was madness. As much as it galled him, Blade needed help. Those he trusted enough to guard his back against vampires were few and far between.

Blade considered his options, but none inspired confidence except, perhaps, for the young mutant he had encountered at the nightclub, the one who called himself Mirage. Blade had mistakenly tried to kill him, not realizing the kid was something else. With his girlfriend, Mirage had proven himself capable against vampires, displaying powers unlike anything Blade had seen. And he had offered his aid if needed. It wasn't an ideal choice, but Mirage may be Blade's only hope for surviving this fight.

Rising from his meditation, Blade began loading his weapons with smooth, practiced motions, the clicks of metal sliding home echoing through the workshop. With Whistler's memory burning fierce in his heart, Blade steeled himself to recruit new allies and confront the vampire who had taken everything from him. Frost would pay for what he'd done. Blade would see to it personally.

— Rogue Replacement —

Blade surveyed Frost's penthouse through a pair of binoculars from his vantage point on the roof of a building across the street. The windows were darkened by polarized glass, blocking out the harsh rays of the afternoon sun and making it abundantly clear that this luxurious dwelling served as a vampire's lair.

Lowering the binoculars, he hefted an air-launcher rifle into position and took careful aim. With a swift, precise motion, he fired. The iron spike, trailing a thin but sturdy steel cable, rocketed through the air before sinking firmly into the concrete façade of Frost's penthouse.

Blade quickly secured the rope, anchoring it firmly to the roof's safety railing. He slipped a small pulley over the taut cable, grabbed the two attached handles, and leaped off the roof's edge. With a sudden whoosh, he slid towards Frost's penthouse, suspended twenty stories above the busy street below. The wind rushed past his face as he closed in on the building.

Releasing his grip on the handles a mere second before reaching the windows, Blade's momentum carried him crashing through the glass in a spectacular shower of shards that rained down on the polished marble floor.

A shrill alarm immediately rang out, echoing within the expansive penthouse. Bright sunlight streamed through the shattered window, causing two vampire guards caught unprepared in the sudden swath of light to let out agonized shrieks as they burned to ash before Blade's eyes. He climbed swiftly to his feet, his stance ready for action, his senses on high alert.

A third vampire leaped at Blade with a feral snarl, but he spun with lightning reflexes, flipping the attacker over his shoulder and sending him straight through one of the other windows in a burst of shattered glass. Blade swiftly unsheathed his sword, the well-worn leather grip fitting comfortably in his palm, and strode with purpose down the hallway.

To Blade's right was the inner chamber with its ostentatious waterfall walls. As another vampire rushed towards him, fangs bared, Blade readied his sword in anticipation.

"You think I'm afraid of that toothpick of yours?" the vampire sneered, his voice dripping with arrogance.

"You should be," Blade responded, "I've made some improvements."

With that, Blade thrust his obsidian sword forward in a blur, the sharpened point piercing deep into the vampire's chest. The creature let out an agonized shriek as he flew apart in a fine ash mist, atomizing before Blade's eyes with a loud "FWOOSH!"

Blade continued his relentless advance down the hallway, ready to destroy anything in his path.

Blade stalked forward, his boots echoing on the cold concrete floor. Up ahead, he spotted a set of imposing steel doors sealed by an electronic time lock. Without hesitation, he swiftly drew his Mack 11 and aimed. The gun bucked in his grip as he fired, the heavy magnum rounds blasting away the lock mechanism in a shower of sparks and twisted metal. Not slowing his advance, Blade stepped up and slammed his shoulder into the doors, forcing them open with a resounding metallic screech.

Beyond lay Frost's private sleeping chamber, a stark, windowless room. The futuristic coffin resembled a cross between a high-end bed and a hyperbaric pod. Gripping the hilt of his sword tightly, Blade grabbed the lid and wrenched it upward with a grunt of effort. The heavy lid rose with a pneumatic hiss, billowing frigid mist into the vampire hunter's face.

As the mist cleared, Blade tensed, ready to plunge his sword downward into the revealed occupant. But it was not Deacon Frost lying motionless beneath him. Instead, to Blade's utter shock, it was his mother, Vanessa. Though thirty years had passed since their last fateful encounter, she appeared unchanged - vibrant, beautiful, and full of life. Her eyes fluttered open, meeting Blade's stunned gaze.

"Eric," she whispered, using his birth name.

Blade gasped, momentarily frozen. "Mother...?"

He stared in disbelief as Vanessa stepped towards him. "I've missed you so much, Eric," she murmured, her voice filled with longing. "You have no idea what I've been through or how much I've wanted to see you again after all these years."

He faltered at the incomprehensible sight before him. His mother was dead, slain by a vampire decades ago. Yet here she was, seemingly alive, reaching out to him with a look of maternal love and affection.

In an instant, her expression changed, revealing fangs. With a vicious snarl, she struck, brutally raking her claws across Blade's face and knocking the sword from his grasp.

Before Blade could react, three black-clad vampires entered the room, emerging from where they had been waiting in ambush outside. Each armed with a cattle prod, which they fired simultaneously at the stunned vampire hunter.

Blade gritted his teeth as he was attacked from all sides, electricity coursing through his muscular frame. He collapsed in a heap, muscles spasming from the paralyzing shocks. Struggling, he lifted his head, looking up at Vanessa with disbelief and pain. "But you...died..." he whispered hoarsely.

Vanessa's smile was hellish, her eyes glowing with malice. "Deacon brought me back," she said.

"Fight him, Mother," Blade pleaded through gritted teeth, his voice strained.

Deacon Frost appeared by Vanessa's side as if on cue, wrapping an arm around her waist and kissing the nape of her neck. She leaned into him, an act of intimacy that turned Blade's stomach.

"She can't fight me," Frost said smugly. "She's one of my thralls now. Nothing more than a puppet on a string." He looked at Vanessa with a twisted smile. "You love me, don't you, Vanessa?"

"Yes," Vanessa replied hollowly, her will bent to his.

Deacon Frost greedily kissed Vanessa, savoring her submission as a thrall under his control. Then he turned his attention to the helpless Blade lying on the floor.

Blade struggled futilely. "Please—" he whispered, desperation filling his voice.

"Listen to your father, Eric," she said in an eerily calm tone. "It's going to be a better world."

Blade stared at Vanessa in disbelief, his mind reeling from her words.

"Don't look so surprised, Blade," Frost mockingly said as he gazed down at his helpless foe. "You've spent your life hunting for the vampire who sired you. Well, you can rest easy now. You've found him." He gripped Blade's chin and forced him to meet his taunting eyes. "Daddy's here."

Blade's eyes widened in shocked realization, Frost's words hitting him like a physical blow. Frost laughed, clearly relishing the anguish on Blade's face as the truth slammed into him. Frost's mocking words echoed in his mind, each a dagger to his soul. Years of questions and torment led to this moment.

"It's true, Blade. You've got my blood running through your veins. Thirty years ago, I came across a woman walking home alone on a moonlit street." His tongue flicked out, caressing his fangs. "That was the night I tore into your mother's throat and made you what you are."

Blade trembled with rage, straining against his bonds. To come so far, after so much struggle and sacrifice, only to find his sire was the monster he had devoted his life to destroying. Frost's laughter rang in his ears, compounding his anguish. The day of reckoning had arrived, but not as Blade had imagined. Now, he could only stare into the eyes of the vampire who had created him, and now, defeated him.

Then Frost raised the cattle prod and sent another agonizing jolt of electricity through Blade's body until he lost consciousness.

Frost stood triumphantly over the dhampir's motionless form with a wicked smile.