Tormented Souls Beer and Blood Whiskey

Time passed quickly, and in the blink of an eye, three days had gone by. The vampires in Hell's Kitchen had been wiped out by the excited gangs.

By the end, hunting vampires had turned into a popular gang activity. They could take a beating, run fast, and put up a fierce fight, which the thugs working for the gang leaders loved. They found it thrilling.

The three Ghost Wolves, "Athens," "Rome," and "Sparta," helped them dig up every vampire hideout in Hell's Kitchen, except for the few they'd found at the beginning. The gangsters waved silver weapons they'd scrounged from all over, dragged the vampires out of houses or basements, and watched them burn to ash in the sunlight.

Afterward, they realized just how fun and exciting hunting vampires could be. They left the dozen or so marked locations untouched, planning to hold a thrilling hunting competition once everyone was ready.

One guy who ran a casino even set up betting odds for the best participants. That was Hell's Kitchen for you—the gangsters lived without restraint and feared nothing!

In the end, word was that quite a few people had died. The Champion was Elektra, the sexy woman working for Kingpin and blind Matt's dream girl. Bullseye, the idiot, had the bad luck to take two bullets. Those brainless gangsters all assumed vampires fought with claws and teeth, never realizing that vampires had IQs too. They could use guns.

Alvin leaned against the bar with his upper body, watching the TV hanging from the ceiling. It was showing Stark's Press Conference exposing the existence of vampires. The event had been packaged as a ridiculous publicity stunt, another prank by the playboy Tony Stark.

Every Television Station was reporting on Stark and the vampires. But most of the coverage mocked Stark's screwed-up personality and speculated about when he'd join show business. Stark had become the latest source of material for nearly every Talk Show.

A crisis involving vampires had been defused just like that, with effortless ease by an invisible hand. There'd been no hint of gunpowder—only Stark's temper.

Still, it hadn't been entirely useless. An angry Stark had apparently uploaded some vampire videos online. Then the people of Hell's Kitchen scrambled to post photos and videos of their own vampire hunts on their social media platforms. That's right, gangsters had social media, too.

The videos were quickly deleted, but that only convinced some people that the vampires in them were real. Those willing to believe accepted that vampires existed and formed a community, setting up a forum to discuss how to deal with them.

At last, the people of Hell's Kitchen had a chance to prove useful. They were hailed as "big shots" and "heroes," and spilled every detail about vampires' weaknesses online.

Unfortunately, this was Hell's Kitchen, an outcast neighborhood. Its people and events always seemed to be cut off from the real world by some invisible wall. People instinctively distrusted anything that came from Hell's Kitchen. If the vampire hunt had happened in Manhattan, things might have turned out differently.

Everyone had just finished dinner, and their mood wasn't great. The adults were silently cursing that damn Television Station.

Meanwhile, young Nick had been complaining since the meal began. "Seriously, Alvin, I hate the taste of Garlic. It makes my breath stink every day. I haven't even talked to a girl in three days. Please, change the menu!"

Ginny, on the other hand, was delighted. Peeling Garlic with Dad every day was a lot of fun, and Dad's Garlic Seafood was really delicious.

Alvin ignored Nick's complaints and said, "Nick, buddy, you wouldn't dare talk to girls even without the Garlic. Your Teacher can vouch for that." He cleared his throat and imitated a Teacher's voice. "Principal, I think Nick may have a psychological problem. He gets nervous whenever he talks to girls. Sometimes I'm even worried he'll faint~~"

Alvin burst out laughing and dodged Nick's furious attack, his face red with embarrassment. The phone rang!

"This is Alvin! Who's calling?"

"Oh~ Mr. Stark. I saw your Talk Show performance on TV. It was hilarious. You could have a bright future as a comedian!"

"Hey, you should be nice to your fans. I'm not kidding—you really are hilarious."

"Alright, alright, I'm sorry. But you really handled this terribly. You messed everything up."

"No, there's no need to come talk to me. The last vampire in Hell's Kitchen was taken out this morning. I'm one of the people here, and this is all I care about. Let everyone else worry about the rest of the world!"

"Taking some time away is a good idea, but Afghanistan? Isn't that a little too remote? I think Miami would suit your style better. Ha-ha!"

"Seriously, buddy, I don't blame you. You did what you could. Leave the rest to the people responsible. Remember, if you have a problem, give me a call. I still don't think Afghanistan is a good choice."

As he spoke, Alvin hung up. A bald, one-eyed Charcoal Head had walked in through the door, ignoring the threats from Thor and Dom. The awkward-looking Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D., Phil Coulson, followed behind him.

Alvin gave Coulson an amused smile. "I thought we had an agreement, Agent Coulson. You should know that agreements are meant to be kept."

The ugly-looking, one-eyed Charcoal Head stopped Coulson from speaking. Then he greeted Frank. "Hey, buddy. I heard things have been going pretty well for you lately."

Frank looked conflicted. He opened his mouth several times, but in the end, he downed a glass of Whiskey and set it heavily on the table without returning Charcoal Head's greeting.

Charcoal Head wasn't embarrassed in the slightest by Frank's reaction. He sat down at the bar with careless confidence and tapped his right hand on the counter. "I'm just passing through for a drink. What? I'm not welcome?" He completely ignored the awkward Agent Coulson, whom JJ was holding back with one hand.

Alvin gestured to Jessica beside him, signaling her to take Nick and Ginny back to their room to play for a while.

Alvin walked up to the bar himself. Of course he knew who the man in front of him was: Nick Fury, Director of S.H.I.E.L.D., a top military expert and an extraordinary leader. He had some idea why Fury had come.

Alvin smiled, took two empty glasses, and set them in front of Fury. "We only serve two kinds of drinks today: Tormented Souls Beer and Blood Whiskey. Which would you like? Maybe you want to try both."

This was posted incorrectly, so I made some changes and posted it again. There's plot that needs to connect.