you're wrong, dragonetti.
the day walker represents a unique opportunity. we'd be fools to waste it by killing him.
why should i respect something which has outlived its purpose?
study him. unlock the secrets of his dna. he's the key we've been looking for.
why should we spend our lives cringing from the daylight when his blood offers us an alternative? enough talk. it's time we stepped out of the shadows!
am i? or am i just the first to say out loud what we've all been thinking?
someone who's sick of living off scraps. the coming age belongs to us, not the humans! when the final war between our races comes, who do you want leading the charge?
some withered up fossil ready to snap like a brittle bone at the first sign of change?
careful, old fang. you might wake up one day and find yourself extinct.
tucked away in a carrel, surrounded by books and scriptures, with only the sickly glow of his laptop to provide light.
please. you and the other elders wouldn't know what to do with these texts if your lives depended on it. which, of course, they do.
perhaps.
lounging in a chair, studying a laptop which rests beside him. on the screen is a digitized image -- a page taken from an ancient manuscript, written in a secret tongue.
crestfallen.
tell me something, gideon, what blood type are you?
take a wild stab. a? b? o, perhaps? i'm interested in the antigens here, the agglutination reaction --
i'm going to guess ab positive.
ab positive. give the man a prize.
in the flesh, blade. i understand you've been looking for me. i'm flattered.
you're quick, blade, i'll give you that. in the space of an hour you've crossed my familiar, destroyed a blood bank -- now here you are in the heart of our archives, terrorizing our curator.
you're history, pearl. have the good grace to die with some dignity. round one to you, blade.
you seem to be in the habit of losing them fairly often, quinn. maybe the amputee lifestyle just suits you.
down, boy. blade's not going anywhere. i promise. right now, though, we've more pressing business -- it's time dragonetti paid the piper.
when was the last time you stopped to appreciate a sunrise, dragonetti? three, four hundred years?
how do you like that? right on time.
the wheel turns, old fang. guess you just got a little too long in the tooth.
dragonetti was right. you were fools to trust me.
easy.
wouldn't want our little friend here to wind up on the back of a milk carton, would we?
beautiful day, isn't it?
i dabble in pharmaceuticals, medical research. we've developed a type of sun-blocker using octyl salicylate, a few others things.
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".
why not? the future of our race runs through your bloodstream. you've got the best of both worlds, blade. all of our strengths and none of our weaknesses.
oh, so it's back to pretending we're human again, is it? spare me the uncle tom routine. you can't keep denying what you are. you're one of us, blade. you always have been.
am i? you think the humans will ever accept a half-breed like you? they can't. they're afraid of you. the humans fear us because we're superior. they fear us because in their hearts they know their race has become obsolete.
look at them, just an endless stream of cattle in a mad race to the slaughterhouse.
the pause that refreshes -- care for some? smells good, doesn't it? pungent, with just an irrepressible hint of iron.
you sure now? i bled a newborn for this. you won't find a drink that's sweeter.
tell me honestly, do you really get the same rush from that pasteurized piss-serum of yours? you're surprised i know about your serum? you shouldn't be. i know everything about you.
you can't keep walking the razor's edge, blade. the day will come -- and soon, when you'll have to choose between our kind and their's. if i were you, i'd take care not to wind up on the wrong end of the fang.
love to continue this chat, but it appears i'm melting.
watch me.
words to live by, whistler.
it's been a long time, hasn't it, "old friend"?
hello, blade. by the time you watch this, whistler will no doubt be winging his way to heaven, thanks to your capable hands. if it makes any difference to you, he put up quite a fight.
now, i'm sure you're wondering about ms. jansen's well-being. she's alive and kicking -- "ambulatory", as they like to say in the trade. whether or not she remains so is entirely up to you. i'll make this as easy as possible for you, blade. you can find us at the edgewood towers. we'll be waiting with baited breath.
leans forward out of the shadows, resting his elbows on the table, hands steepled together.
well, here we are, doctor.
a few thousand scattered about the globe. in the past, we've had to restrict our numbers for fear of discovery. that won't be necessary after tonight.
the blood tide. our long-prophesied holy war against the humans. there's a force, you see -- a spirit that exists in our blood. i've discovered a way to invoke it.
that's right. the answers were there all along, of course, scribbled down in the forgotten languages of my kind. waiting for someone with the patience to decipher them. my elders were foolish enough to dismiss them as wives tales. but i knew better. imagine my surprise when blade turned out to be the key which would set that force free.
lamagra isn't a physical being. he's a spirit, requiring a flesh and blood host in order to manifest himself.
who better to usher in the blood tide?
what makes you think we want to be cured? blood is only part of the equation. the hunt, the killing, that's what the thirst is really about.
only as a last resort. preserved blood is inferior. there's no flavor left to it, no life. fortunately, i've found a way around that particular obstacle.
under these conditions i can keep a donor alive for years, producing anywhere from fifty to a hundred pints of blood. of course, this is just a pilot program, really. once the tide comes, we'll need to expand production. so many more mouths to feed --
why? because we live at another species' expense? your people farm cattle and veal, don't they? fattening them up with steroids? it's called evolution, doctor. survival of the fittest.
i have a wake-up call for the human race. you're no longer at the top of the food chain.
she can't. she's one of my thralls now. she has about as much free will as a puppet on a string. you love me, don't you, vanessa?
what do we have here? your precious serum? i don't think you'll be needing this anymore.
don't look so surprised, blade. you've spent your life looking for the vampire who fathered you. well you can rest easy now, you've found him. daddy's here.
it's true, blade. you've got my blood running through your veins. thirty years ago. a moonlit street, a woman on her way home alone. you were conceived the night i tore my fangs into your mother's flesh.
welcome home, children.
on its surface, this building houses one of the city's oldest financial institutions -- and for over two-hundred years its served our corporate needs. look beneath the surface, however, and you'll discover another truth entirely --
as above, so below.
welcome to our hall of ancients, doctor. we call it the temple of night.
let's see this sword of his.
still quite sharp, i see.
you're wasting your breath, woman. he can't hear you now. it's the thirst, you see? it already has him in its grip.
how long has it been since you had your serum? twelve hours? more? you must be quite thirsty by now.
what does it feel like? is your blood on fire? are you burning up inside? give in to the thirst, blade. embrace your true nature.
i've got news for you, blade. we're already here.
take him to the sanctuary. it's time he was bled.
i'd let you watch the proceedings, doctor, but i'm afraid that privilege is reserved for members of my own race. don't worry, though, i've made alternate arrangements for you.
we call this the bone pit. it's where we keep our mistakes, the ones who couldn't successfully make the transition from human to vampire.
they'll feed on anything, given the chance -- animals, corpses, even other vampires.
of course, a strapping young woman like yourself -- well i think you just might be considered finger food.
approaches, still carrying blade's sword.
it's been a long road, hasn't it? such a pity whistler led you so far astray.
i don't blame you, though. i want you to know that. even after all you've done. i understand, blade, i really do. it's the human side of you which has corrupted your reasoning, made you weak. but we'll take care of that, won't we?
no you wouldn't. i'm going to bleed you dry, blade. all the poison that makes you human. when the tide comes, you'll be begging me put you through the change.
it's done. we should ready ourselves for the ritual of invocation.
tonight is the night we've waited our entire lives for. tonight, the blood-dimmed tide is loosed upon the world. tonight, the age of man comes to an end.
"and what rough beast, its hour come round at last, slouches towards bethlehem to be born?"
stands with his back to us, his body trailing wisps of occult fumes. as he slowly turns, we catch a glimpse of his eyes -- burning with an awesome, inner fire.
no longer.
take him.
enough!!!
you're too late, blade. i'm already changing. don't you see? the sleeper has awakened. i'm not just frost anymore. i'm becoming a god now, blood incarnate.
you can't hurt me anymore.
everywhere.
you want my blood so much?! take it!
i was wrong about you, blade. you were never one of us. you're a traitor to your race.
you're wrong -- a few minutes more, and my transition will be complete. even your sword won't be able to affect me then.
just as i thought. still chained to your mother's breast after all these years.
you're too human, blade.