Richard stopped the SUV beside a half-destroyed warehouse with a collapsed roof. The engine fell silent. For several seconds he simply sat behind the wheel, staring into the darkness through the windshield.
His hands gripped the steering wheel tightly.
"Last time," he said quietly to himself. His voice was low and tired.
"Last time I'm cleaning up after you, Gerard."
He got out of the car. The cold night air hit his face. Richard adjusted his dark coat, took a small black case from the trunk, and headed toward the rusty warehouse gates.
The lock had been broken long ago. He simply pushed the door with his shoulder, and it creaked open.
Richard turned on the powerful flashlight mounted on his shoulder. The beam cut through the darkness, revealing rows of metal shelving covered in dust.
On the shelves stood glass vials,the last samples of "Prime-Blood." Some of them still glowed faintly, and something moved inside, as if an unnatural life still flickered within.
Richard placed the case on the nearest table and opened it. Inside were gloves, a lighter, a small canister of gasoline, and a portable hard drive.
"How many years we spent creating this…" he muttered, looking at the vials.
"How many lives we destroyed. All so we could become better. So we wouldn't have to walk under the sun with those damned domes."
He put on the gloves, picked up the first vial, and held it up to the light. The liquid inside pulsed slowly. Richard clenched his jaw.
"No more."
He smashed the vial against the edge of the shelf. Glass shattered with a sharp ring. The thick liquid splashed onto the concrete floor and began to hiss, eating into the ground.
Richard moved methodically along the shelves. Vial after vial. The sound of breaking glass, the hiss of liquid, the smell of burning chemicals. He didn't rush, but he didn't linger either.
Every movement was precise.
"Prime-Blood…" he said quietly, smashing another vial.
"An improved vampire soul. We could have become the ones who finally walk in the sun without those fucking domes over New York… over half the cities in the world."
He stopped at the last shelf. Only three vials remained. Richard picked one up and brought it close to his eyes.
"And instead… we created a plague."
He smashed the vial against the wall. The liquid sprayed in all directions.
"We wanted to become gods, but we became a plague."
Richard walked over to an old metal cabinet in the corner and opened it. Inside were folders, discs, flash drives, and several hard drives. He pulled everything out and piled it on the floor.
Then he took the gasoline canister from the case and generously doused the documents and electronics.
"Not a single trace," he whispered.
"Not a single name. I'm leaving nothing…"
He struck the lighter, and the paper caught fire instantly. The discs and flash drives began to melt with a quiet hiss. The smell of burning plastic and paper filled the room.
Richard stood and watched as the fire consumed the last evidence of his involvement in the Prime-Blood project. His face remained expressionless, but the orange flames reflected in his eyes.
"I'm tired of covering your tracks, Gerard," he said quietly, speaking into the emptiness.
"I'm tired of being your shadow. One day… this will be the end for all our souls."
He took a small portable hard drive from his pocket — the last one, containing digital copies of all the data. He held it to the fire. The plastic began to melt, the circuits blackened and smoked.
When the fire started to die down, Richard poured the remaining gasoline onto the shelves and set them ablaze.
Smoke slowly filled the warehouse. Flames spread to the wooden beams, old crates, and remnants of equipment.
Richard stepped back toward the exit. He stood in the doorway and watched the fire devour the last traces of the project he had worked on for years.
"It's done," he whispered.
"There's nothing left."
He turned and left the warehouse. Behind him, the fire grew stronger.
Richard got into the SUV, started the engine, and slowly drove away from the burning building. In the rearview mirror, he saw the flames rising higher, lighting up the night sky.
He took out his phone and dialed a short number.
"Everything's destroyed," he said when the other side answered.
"Not a single trace."
Gerard's satisfied voice came through:
"Good. Now come home, Richard."
Hale ended the call and tossed the phone onto the passenger seat.
He stared at the road ahead, and there was no satisfaction in his eyes, only exhaustion.
"Just a little longer," he whispered to himself.
The SUV disappeared into the night, leaving behind the blazing warehouse, the last place where the final samples of "Prime-Blood" had been stored.
Evening
19:30
Flash stood by the window with his arms crossed over his chest, looking out at the street. His face was grim and focused. He had been silent for several minutes.
Gideon sat at the old laptop on the kitchen table. His fingers flew across the keyboard. Files, databases, and old police reports flashed across the screen. Susie sat beside him, watching silently.
Bruno leaned against the wall, still wincing from the pain in his side. Ethan stood a little further away, leaning on the black stake like a cane.
"Got him," Gideon finally said, leaning back in his chair.
"I found him. A corrupt cop from the organized crime unit."
"Detective Lieutenant Carlos Mendes. He's been working undercover for five years. But in reality, he's been on Gerard's payroll for a long time."