Dracula on his tour and Tony has strange Ideas

Blade 04.11.2021

"Yo... Whistler... Just landed in Budapest. Where did you send my stuff?" asked Blade as he stood outside the airport in Budapest enjoying the weather.

"Blade, my boy. What are you still doing in Budapest? I thought you were done there? Solid performance, by the way."

"Yo...old man. What are you talking about?" asked Blade.

"Didn't you do that? My contact told me the usual rallying points have all been wiped out. There's even a rumor that Dracula is dead.... is there any truth to that?"

"All the points dry? Shit is that guy fast...that's just four days!" cursed Blade nervously.

"What are you talking about my boy?"

"Remember the Secret Lair of Dracula?"

"Yeah...was it something or just a false trail?" asked Whistler curiously.

" Jackpot...found him and what he was hiding there. Unfortunately, you won't like it at all. Apparently, Dracula was just an imposter who just put on Dracula's name."

"Nonsense kiddo. We've fought him many times and there are pictures of him from the 16th century! Or have you been fooled by an imposter?" laughed Whistler, amused.

"Old man... That's not my funny voice. Tell me where to go?"

"There are rumors that the vampires in London are quite nervous... Blade... what have you found?" asked Whistler now more nervously.

"The beginning!" he said, turning around and heading back into the airport. If this thing kept going at this rate maybe he should get a hobby, Blade thought to himself.

Dracula, London. 04.11.2021

The lone figure walking through the streets of London stood out at most for his uncanny good looks. The man was about mid-30s, wore a fine black suit and had a European look. His features were gentle, almost angelic. Not a flaw was visible on his pale skin. His long black hair fell far back over his shoulders and framed his face. From the stature you could say that he was well trained without being a bodybuilder. Perhaps a gymnast or competitive athlete. The emerald green eyes were of such brilliance that it seemed almost inhuman. Some people, especially younger women turned around as the man walked past them. Some even whistled enthusiastically at him, but the man was not interested. On his left hand he wore a golden ring which made it clear that he was married.

Slowly he walked towards one of the older and larger estates in the noble district of London. The guards at the gate stopped him, but after a short conversation they opened the doors and let him in.

The house was beautifully furnished, decadent looking, yet with a certain beauty.

One of the servants immediately approached him and smiled politely.

"Excuse me, my lord. May I have your name?"

The man slowly raised his eyes and looked at the servant. Somewhat older, perhaps 60 years, wiry and of the finest manners. A classic English butler. Briefly he drew in the air through his nose. It smelled of blood, **** and sex.

"I wish to speak to the master of the house!" he said in a beautiful, pleasant-sounding voice, his English flawless and without accent.

"Pardon me, the lord. But Lord Bellies does not want..."

That's as far as the servant could finish his words, as his head slowly rolled across the floor, while the body still stood in front of the guest, seemingly not yet realizing he was missing his head because he was still flailing his arms around.

"Thanks... I'll find my own way!" said the cold-blooded killer and slowly walked past the body. Only now did the body fall to the ground and the blood immediately spread across the floor. Unmoved by this, the man went up the large steps and looked at the large door that lay before him. A slight push was enough to make the door break out of the lock and behind it he saw about 40 people. Most were very lightly dressed women and about 15 men of various ages. All eyes were on him, thanks to his brilliant entrance.

" What do they think they're doing! Do they even know where you are?" asked one of the men who just had 2 women sitting on his lap. The ladies, all very good looking, giggled in amusement, but the stranger was unimpressed.

"In a burrow of inferior insects, ants and vermin." He said calmly and slowly walked closer. Immediately one of the other men reached under the table and pulled out a gun. In Budapest he might have been surprised by these modern weapons, but even that had not been able to give his enemies an advantage. "Put away this toy invented by mortals. It will not give you any advantage against me."

"Oh yeah, I'd like to test that!" the man laughed and pulled the trigger. The bang could be heard for miles as the projectile pierced the chest. The Desert Eagle, one of the largest and most powerful pistols did not even jerk in the man's hand. The bullet passed through the man's chest effortlessly and exited out the back of his back. The women, who had just been giggling, were dead silent when they saw this cold-blooded **** and looked stunned at the shooter.

"As I was saying..." the voice of the shot man was now heard, standing directly behind the shooter. He did not even have the time to turn around when 2 strong hands grabbed him and tore him apart in the middle. But where there should have been blood, there were only burning ashes and withered bones that dissolved into nothingness in seconds. The women began to scream while the other people drew their weapons. The firefight that followed was short and fierce, but completely in vain. From outside, one could clearly see the flashes of the weapons as they tried to protect their bearers. Then it became silent and dark.

Vlad Tepes Dracul, Prince of Wallachia, called Dracula, looked at the carnage before him. The mortal women had died in the hail of bullets from the vampires. He probably could have saved them, but that was not why he was here. These vampires, if they could be called that, were nothing more than a tired shadow of him. When he had been betrayed by this vampire, he had been able to put a curse on him. His descendants would never know the true power of a vampire. Now Vlad had awakened and found that he had been imprisoned for centuries. Perhaps he could have freed himself, but what would he have done in this world without his beloved wife. Vlad had traveled the world under thousands of names, and yet he had found true love only once. When she had been killed by the werewolf king, he had almost destroyed the old world in a boundless campaign of ****.

But now this dark-skinned hunter had freed him and so he was here again. But this shame, to share this world with such primitive creatures was unbearable. As he slowly climbed over the corpses, he felt a magical presence not too far away. It felt familiar. Something that had once belonged to him. Looking around to make sure there were no more vampires, he jumped out the window and disappeared completely into a swarm of bats that had appeared out of nowhere. Slowly he circled the large castle-like mansion on which he could read the words. Latveria. But from there came the presence and thus he entered the house. From here he could not sense any vampires and so he chose a slightly less conspicuous path. His magic completely cloaked him from the watchful eyes of the guards and the curse of vampirism prevented him from being seen on cameras or mirrors. Arriving at the armory he could see what had brought him here. His old sword. Locked in a glass case, it was waiting for its former master. The collection of this man was quite impressive, but random. It was probably not a shrine in his honor, but rather a collection from all eras of human history. Perhaps this man would have more artifacts of him in his homeland, it flashed through his mind. Grabbing his sword, he immediately set off again. London would still be there tomorrow, but now he had a word to say to this...

Victor van Doom.

New York City. 04.11.2021

Tony stood over his console looking at the images of the crime scene. Even 4 days later, he didn't have the slightest idea what had happened at Justin Hammer's house. The press, of course, had jumped on the topic and reports of a massive new super-fighting robot were making the rounds. It was known that Justin Hammer was working on his own version of the Iron Man suit and had finally moved into the field of drones. The fact that they had found some experimental battle droids in his labs that were remotely reminiscent of animals only confirmed this theory.

Tony, on the other hand, was sure it wasn't a crazed robot. Hammer was an idiot, but not that stupid. No. He was more likely to believe it had been one of Dr. Stange's monsters. After all, he had seen some kind of snake himself only hours before. If that had been the case, it would at least have a good explanation for this massacre. Normally, Tony would certainly think about it much longer and in more detail. Probably the marks on his suit would have made him nervous, or that his ARC reactor had miraculously just removed itself from his body, but none of that was that urgent. Everything he couldn't explain he simply blamed on Dr. Strange. He, who had never believed in magic, now accepted magic as the best explanation and didn't bother to look for an alternative solution.

His suit, which surely could have provided him with valuable clues, had been melted down by him a day ago. He had not paid any further attention to the strange analyses of Mayday and Friday. The fact that something inside the suit could have suddenly taken on almost 4 times its mass was too ridiculous. After all, he wasn't the Hulk and could transform into another being. And since he had still been in the suit in the morning, it was only logical that all the sensors and measurements had been wrong.

"Friday. Please send a copy of the data to Fury and tell him that my stock of suits is still complete in the arsenal. Also give him the usual data on the suits, but don't go into too much detail. We don't want old Cyclops building his own anytime soon."

"Understood sir. Transmitting data now. Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"Umm... yes... can you tell me what's on the menu today?"

"Even though Miss Potts is traveling at the moment, she has instructed that we have seafood today. Your favorite, sir."

"Umm... yes... no... send a message to the Cook. I'm really in the mood for a fatty beef steak today! Like a reallllllllllllllllllllyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy fat one!"

"Roger that sir."

Half an hour later, Tony was sitting on the couch in his gym clothes watching the news when one of the attendants came in. A young, racy black-haired woman who brought him his food. Although she made no effort to tease him in any way, Tony couldn't stop his eyes from wandering over her body. The big, beautiful tits, hidden behind the white uniform, then the tight, horny ass in the miniskirt. Without him noticing, his cock stirred and straightened more than clearly. Unmistakably, the bulge protruded through the pants and the woman just made him terribly horny. He wondered how it would be to tear off her clothes and fuck her here and now the soul from the body. To squirt her pussy full until she would be pregnant.

For some reason this thought turned him on even more. Getting a woman pregnant. Yes... that was what he was supposed to do now. To fuck a woman until she would be pregnant...how would it feel to inseminate a woman? Insemination! What a sexy word. His cock twitched as the woman went out. He would just have to grab her, rip off her skirt and impregnate her, pumping her pussy until she couldn't take it anymore. As soon as she was gone, he pulled down his pants and imagined fucking Pepper. Hard, wild and animalistic. And until his cum would flow out of her pussy.

But he bit his lips and shook off the thoughts. After all, he was married to Pepper and once she came back, he could make his fantasy come true with her.