This time, it was much quieter outside. The knocking did not resume for quite a while.
But relying on something like grenades to kill Vampires was still a bit of a stretch. There was not just one of them, but a whole group, so that amount of bleeding was not fatal enough.
It seemed they were off to think of another way. Still, even if they splashed paint and dumped manure in front of Santa Claus's door, Su Ming had contingency plans. These Vampires were no match for Deathstroke; he was merely playing with them for now.
So he simply nodded to Little Saint, signaling him to stay calm and keep drinking.
A moment later, firelight streamed into the room through the window. Su Ming had Strangle cling to the wall and peek outside, and the Symbiotes' vision was relayed to its host.
There was a deep crater in the snow before the door. On the other side stood many figures in old-fashioned formalwear, their faces bluish and pale. They held torches as though intending to burn something, and some of them even carried Flamethrowers, which they were currently adjusting.
Su Ming sighed. These bloodsuckers were vulnerable to fire themselves, yet they still dared to play with it?
At a thought, Strangle immediately pulled several assault rifles from its host's waist pouch, expertly inserted the magazines, chambered rounds, and clicked off the safeties.
Then it opened the window and unleashed a burst of gunfire at the Vampires. Its shooting was precise, and it shared its host's experience. It specifically targeted the Flamethrowers' fuel tanks, and almost instantly, blossoms of flame erupted across the snow.
The explosions were accompanied by the screams of Vampires and the sight of burning bats flapping wildly in every direction.
It was like a fireworks warehouse