New York slipped quietly into the night.
Herman chose to land where his future Stellar Tower would stand. In this era the same plot held a few dilapidated apartment blocks. The city looked far less developed and prosperous than its later incarnation.
That was to be expected. America's actual position at this point in time differed sharply from the image sold by Hollywood blockbusters. It had not yet become a global hegemon. It was one of the stronger powers, but in many arenas it could be held in check by Great Britain. At this world node the United States' economy and technology lagged well behind the true giants.
America's real rise came through continuous growth during World War II and, after the war, by siphoning global resources. Decades later that process produced its dominance.
Without exaggeration, present-day New York even seemed less vibrant than the city Herman was in before.
"The passage of time is truly saddening," he said.
Herman landed steadily in an alley between the residential buildings. He expected his arrival to go unnoticed. He was wrong.
Although the U.S. territorial defense systems did not detect him, a group of people who liked to wander the streets at night happened upon him.
"Over there! The meteor that fell from the sky is over there!"
Herman had barely stepped out of the alley when he ran into them. They were a cluster of young men and women in garish, colorful clothes, even more extreme than the hippies you see on TV. Their faces and ears were covered with metal jewelry. One burly man wore a massive bull ring through his nose.
"Someone beat us to it!" they cried. They paused at the sight of Herman, then moved to block his path. Seven or eight of them quickly surrounded him.
"You punk! Did you find something that fell from the sky? Hand it over!" snarled a man with a slicked-back pompadour. The others stared at Herman with hostile eyes.
Their looks carried more than malice. There was a crude, greedy hunger in them too.
"My luck sucks," Herman thought. He wasn't bothered by their threats. He'd been mugged before. He hadn't expected to encounter the same sort of thugs in this earlier timeline, but coincidences happen.
"You'd better hand it over! A valuable meteorite isn't for you to keep!" the slick-haired youth threatened again. His gaze was dangerous.
"You want the meteorite? Then maybe you should go pick one out of the sky yourself," Herman said, raising an eyebrow. His calm, composed face surprised the thug.
He's not afraid of us?
The slicked-back youth glared at Herman's far more handsome features and felt a prick of jealousy. Anger flared inside him.
"Looks like I need to teach you a lesson. Then you'll know to obey me!" he sneered. He bared teeth that revealed several sharp fangs. "It won't spare your life, but at least I'll make your death less painful. I'll savor torturing you—the treat that walked right into our trap—and then take the valuable meteorite from your shattered corpse!"
He spat the threat, craving the sight of fear on Herman's face. That was their favorite part.
The others mirrored him, exposing their own fangs. The group blocking Herman's path were not ordinary humans after all.
"So they're vampires."
Herman had already sensed something off about this group. He never expected them to turn out to be vampires living in the World War II era.
Unlike the wealthy, aristocratic vampires of later generations, these ones clearly lacked any stable source of income. Not only had they chased after a single meteorite, but even their clothes were obviously cheap and worn-out.
"Such a handsome young man—it'd be a waste to eat him right away. Curry, why not let me take him back and savor him properly before serving him up?"
A seductive female vampire, clearly captivated by Herman's looks, spoke with a greedy glint in her eyes as she addressed the slick-haired man.
"No, no, no, Mina. You're not taking this one. I'll kill him right here," the man snapped, his crimson eyes glinting coldly as he turned toward her.
His authority was clearly higher than hers. The lecherous vampire who'd spoken dared not argue further and only shot Herman a look of regret. The other two female vampires beside her wore similarly disappointed expressions.
It was obvious—the female vampires in this group were all lustful. Well, to be fair, it wasn't hard to understand why. In an age when makeup techniques weren't widespread, Herman's looks alone were enough to leave most women breathless.
Naturally, that also stirred envy among the men.
Sure enough, after the female vampire's interruption, the male vampires' gazes toward Herman grew darker, their eyes filled with hostility and resentment.
"So you've already decided my fate, huh? Tch. Don't you think you should at least ask for my opinion first?"
Herman curled his lips faintly.
He could more or less guess why he'd run into vampires. Cities at night were never safe—anyone wandering around after dark usually wasn't someone normal.
Between petty thieves, gangsters, assassins, and overworked streetwalkers, nighttime was a playground for crime. And in a city without surveillance, it was also the perfect hunting ground for vampires.
These vampires were clearly out looking for prey tonight.
Only, Herman's appearance had caught their attention. The light from his landing must have been impossible to miss for creatures with night vision. So, mistaking it for a falling meteorite, this cash-strapped pack of vampires came running.
"Reasonable enough," he thought, "but running into something like this the moment I arrive in New York? That's pushing it. Is surviving in this city really that hard?"
Even though he'd already pieced together how they found him, Herman couldn't help but grumble inwardly. It seemed New Yorkers' misfortunes were destined even in this era.
Honestly, an ordinary person in the Marvel Universe probably had no chance of dying a natural death—especially in New York. Anyone who managed to live here long-term must have possessed absurd luck. Those who actually died of old age were probably the chosen few.
"Good thing I'm not ordinary."
Herman looked calmly at the vampires before him.
"Human, your calmness offends us!"
The slick-haired youth glared at him, his crimson eyes flashing with menace, clearly irritated by Herman's unshaken composure.
"Should I panic, scream for help, and shout that I've run into a pack of vampires?" Herman shot back without hesitation.
His tone and demeanor made the slick-haired youth, who'd been eager to savor Herman's fear, frown deeply.
The rest of the vampires followed suit, their expressions darkening with anger. To them, Herman's calm was nothing short of an insult—he should have been trembling in terror before them.
"You probably don't even realize your situation."
The slick-haired youth's hoarse voice was thick with malice.
"You should be afraid of us. Faced with beings you can never defeat, you ought to show the greatest fear of your life. Beg for mercy. Kneel. Cry for your parents—that's how you should react."
He tried to force Herman to play along with his little performance.
Then, without warning, he opened his mouth wide again, revealing razor-sharp fangs as a guttural snarl rumbled from his throat. He clearly meant to frighten Herman into panic with his monstrous appearance.
"What disgusting teeth. Guess you don't have a personal dentist," Herman remarked dryly, his tone even carrying a trace of mockery.
He wasn't remotely intimidated. If anything, ignorance truly does make one fearless. Even if Dracula himself appeared, he wouldn't dare act so arrogantly before Herman—yet here were a few low-grade vampires trying to play at being terrifying.
Yes. This group of vampires was the lowest of the low. Beyond their basic vampiric traits, they hadn't even developed supernatural powers. The blood in their veins was pathetically thin.
"You sharp-tongued brat! You'll pay for that arrogance! I'll drain your blood dry and watch you die writhing in pain!" the slick-haired youth roared, his face twisted with fury as he lunged at Herman with "blinding" speed.
Of course, that speed was only impressive compared to ordinary humans. In Herman's eyes, it wasn't worth mentioning.
"Heh."
Before the slick-haired youth even vanished from his spot, Herman casually threw a punch at the empty air before him.
A split second later, as if he had moved right into place for it, the vampire appeared directly in front of Herman's fist.
Bang!
The blow landed squarely on the vampire's face. Herman hadn't even put effort into it. Yet the momentum from the vampire's own charge was enough to make his teeth shatter completely. His body shot backward like a kite with its string cut.
Crash!
He slammed into a wall and was buried beneath a heap of broken bricks. With his sharp vision, Herman could clearly see the vampire under the rubble—barely breathing, his life hanging by a thread.
The impact had shattered several of his bones, and his organs were twisted and ruptured. As a low-level clan member, his regeneration was painfully slow.
Had he not been a vampire, he'd already be dead.
"Go! Kill him! Kill him now!"
The slick-haired youth finally gasped for air, coughing up blood. He struggled to rise but was hit by another dizzy spell.
He wiped his face and stared at the pale mush smeared across his palm—his own brain matter. The sight filled him with humiliation and rage.
"I want him dead!" he screamed.
Even as he tried to heal himself with his bloodline, the fury and disbelief in his heart only deepened.
He, who had always prided himself on strength, had been sent flying by a single punch. That almost prophetic counter... There was no way this man was human. The slick-haired youth could feel Herman's terrifying power.
He was uneasy—but his pride refused to let him retreat. As one of the "noble" vampire clan, running away was unthinkable.
"He hit our boss!"
"Is that guy a werewolf?"
"Doesn't matter what he is! We outnumber him! Take him down! No one insults our clan and lives!"
…
These vampires lacked awareness. They couldn't even grasp the difference between themselves and Herman.
So they charged him all at once, shouting wildly. Mistaking him for another supernatural being, they grew excited, thinking they'd found a worthy fight. They lunged toward him, full of confidence that they could tear him apart.
However—
Before any of them could reach him, Herman spoke calmly.
"I'm not in the mood to play with you."
He let his hands fall to his sides, a faint glow flickering in his eyes.
Crack. Crack. Crack.
A chorus of sharp, wet pops rang out in rapid succession. The vampires' heads burst open one after another, like smashed watermelons, spraying blood and brain matter in every direction.
Herman had used his psychic power to crush their skulls.
For such feeble creatures, it was effortless. Before they even realized what had happened, their necks were nothing but mangled flesh. Not a single head remained intact, and their bodies collapsed limply to the ground.
Their regeneration was nowhere near that of a Sabretooth. Even Sabretooth would die without a head—these vampires, naturally, were no exception.
"You pitiful things—what gives you the right to call yourselves noble before me?"
Herman stepped closer to the slick-haired youth, now trembling violently, eyes wide with horror. The vampire leader had no idea what had just happened.
What the hell...
In the blink of an eye... all his brothers, sisters, and offspring were gone.