No Pulse

Disclaimer: The main characters of this work are not my creation. This is my interpretation of the time between Blade II and Trinity and will include some of Trinity.

I greatly appreciate reviews and/or any advice.


The alleyway in a rough part of New York is dark and sparsely lighted, aren't all alleyways the same way. This one is dank and wet and empty except for the figure staggering down between the steam and haze.

It's a young woman who appears to be drunk. She trips, almost falls, and catches herself with a giggle. Completely self-absorbed she doesn't appear to see the group of men who've just come out of a doorway.

They turn and see her; long brown hair, skintight black pants, and a low cut top that is just about falling off of her.

Need some help, darling?

She looks up blearily.

I'm okay.
(She stumbles again and he catches her.)
A little help then. I think that lash drink did me in.

I'll help her.

The others give him wolfish grins and disappear down the alley so that the two are quickly alone again. Meg is leaning into her savior, she reeks of alcohol and appears to be heavily inebriated. The Man turns toward her and gives her his own sharp-toothed grin, not quite a man then, a Vampire.

Okay, lesh go. To…um…4th, I think thash where I parked.

Is that so?

Meg slips and drags him down suddenly, giggling the whole way.

At the other end of the alleyway a figure appears. Steam obscures him, we can't see anything besides the long coat and a startling glimmer of buckles that flickers through the darkness. He sees Meg and the vampire and begins to run.

Meg giggles again as she pulls on the vampires arms. And then, silver glimmers between her fingers as she stakes the unsuspecting vampire. He sparks to ash, a shocked look as he backpedals away and then is gone.

What the hell?

Meg gets to her feet and brushes the remaining sparks off of her clothing. She looks at Blade in confusion for a second and then she realizes who he is.

You're him. Blade.

And who the hell are you?

She shrugs and straightens her clothes. The silver stake has vanished and it's not evident where it went to.

Margaret Carpenter. Most call me Meg. Walk with me?

They face off for a minute. Neither of them quite sure what the other is. Blade's hands are quite close to his weapons. Meg is more relaxed, she has information on her side.

You're hunting them alone. That's dangerous.

But effective. They don't expect any fight from me. Drunk. Female.


MEGWe all have our little failings.
I thought you were in Europe. Word was that you found Whistler.
Brought him back.

He gives her the stoic Blade silence until she goes on.

MEG (cont.)
There is a grapevine, you know. You're not the only one who hunts them.

You're going to get yourself killed.

Isn't that where we're all headed?
(She looks down a side street and shrugs lightly.)
Maybe I'll see you around then.

How would I find you?

You wouldn't. I move around a lot. Keeps anyone from getting suspicious.
Keeps the fangs off my neck.

The two of them face off. Although they might technically be colleagues, vampire hunters aren't known for their social graces or ability to merge with each other, almost all are loners. But he hasn't met many humans who've chosen this path, not yet anyway, and her method of hunting is unique to say the least.

How did you end up doing this? Killing vampires.

Does there have to be a reason?

It's not a hobby that you just pick up.

She shrugs and sends his own silence right back at him. Meg isn't intimidated by him and that is something that he rarely experiences. His interest is more than a little curiosity, but she's done with the share time.

One man's hobby…

She walks away from him down another alleyway. Blade shrugs and turns. This part of New York is full of vampire clubs and the inevitable blood bath that follows them. There's plenty of killing yet to be done.

But when she's walked to the point where she can no longer see him, she stops and pauses. She's just met the man with the most vampire kills anywhere and he's going hunting. When she returns to his location he is gone, but she has a good idea of where he's going.


It is marked with almost invisible sigils. They are set among pictures that others might not notice. If one looks closer, they might see Whistler set into a sniper position on the roof and hear the screams and fighting from inside. Blade working his magic.

Meg is headed toward the bar. She spots Whistler and eyes his position. She also hears the rush of oncoming police cars and realizes that whatever Blade has done has drawn familiars in positions of great influence and power.


She reaches back and tightens the strings of her top, pulling it against her. Not tight, the outlines of stakes are faintly visible against her ribs. These she leaves in place as she pulls a short silver weapon from a boot holster and starts across the street.

She darts inside just as a pair of hysterical vampires try to bolt for the exit.

No exit, ladies!

Her wrist flicks and the asp telescopes down and locks into position. She strikes the first vampire and then drives the end into her waist. Ash. The second tries to punch her, Meg spins into the blow, elbows the vamp, and slices the modified asp across her windpipe. The head severs completely from the body before it lights up.

The interior of the club is chaos. Vampires running for exits, some being chased down by silver bullets, others trampling each other in their hurry.

Meg picks off those that come close enough to her. She has a liquid fighting style, very similar to Aikido, and without much extra movement. She downs a big Hispanic vampire with a shot through one eye and finally sees Blade whirling and spinning amidst a group of attackers.

Blade! It's time to go!

He ignores her. A snap kick to one leg takes the vamp down for a stake through the head. Another gets too close to his sword and ashes around it. The third gets the already used stake in his chest before he can back away and Meg obligingly impales the fourth on her asp.

Now there is a new confrontation in the bar.

What are you doing here?

They've called in the cavalry.
(He doesn't follow her logic at first.)

I can handle familiars.

Not an entire police quadrant of them. Every man.

The seriousness of her voice wins him over. They glance around. The bar is mostly cleared. A few vamps are hiding in flimsy hiding places. Blade sneers at them.

Your lucky day.

They jog for the exit.

They're almost there when five vampires lunge out of the darkness. Blade punches the closest one but the second knocks his hand out of line as he pulls the trigger to the stake gun. Then he's in the thick of it again. Fighting for survival against half-trained vampires who fancy themselves fighters. It doesn't really take him that long.

He starts forward again when he realizes that Meg isn't at his side.

Blade sees her, laying against one wall, blood pouring out of her fingers from where she's taken the misfired stake out of her chest and tried to staunch the wound.

Guess I should have listened to you.
(She coughs painfully.)
Fuck this hurts!

The police sirens are closer now.

The earpiece in Blade's ear comes to life.

WHISTLER (O.S. filter)
Time to leave this shit-hole, Blade. We've got problems coming in.

Bring the van around.

WHISTLER (O.S. filter)
What's going on?

Just do as I say!

He leans down toward Meg, his nostrils flaring as he scents the blood on her. She tries to push him away as he gathers her up.

Oh, just leave me. I can see the end of the line.

Be quiet.

He carries her from the bar and manages to shoot a few extra vamps on the way. Meg is bleeding heavily unable to put any pressure against the wound. Her head lolls against the black leather of his coat.

Whistler pulls up in the van. His eyes open wider when he sees Meg.

I thought we weren't bringing home any more strays.

Just drive.

They pull away as Blade rips the thin strap holding her garment on the left side. The stake has entered her shoulder and left a deep and bloody wound.

Meg shivers as shock sets in and her skin grows pale and clammy. She tries to smile at him as the lights of the passing streets flicker across the roof of the van.

This always was a stupid hobby.

We have to stop the bleeding.

She grabs his hand, surprisingly strong.

Don't waste your time. I know fatal when I see it.

What the hell is going on?

Blade watches as the blood thickens and then stops. Her head rolls back against him and her dark eyes go silent and glossy with unshed tears. He reaches down and rests his hand against the tender flesh of her neck.

WHISTLER (cont.)
Is she okay?

No pulse.

Then when terrible slowness, he leans down and bites her.