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Crimson trickled down his pale white chin as his fangs sunk into the neck of the drug pusher. He'd taken a risk, these dealers often got high on their own supply, tainting their blood and creating a potentially dangerous cocktail for Morbius to consume. He'd had issues with hallucinogen laced blood before, but this was an emergency. He could feel the hunger becoming too much for him, he could feel himself getting too close to going on an uncontrollable feeding frenzy. This would have to do, the risk was too great.

It had been a few days since meeting Cavallero at the morgue and it felt like they were making no progress at all. Morbius had been stalking the alleyway at Livonia every night, on the lookout for whoever was dumping the bodies, but no one ever turned up, and it had seriously impacted his feeding schedule. Michael Morbius was a very impatient man, both in terms of when he got to feed, and also when he got results.

His suit helped him to blend in to the almost abject darkness. It clung to him like a second skin, sleek and seamless, a deep black that gleamed under the streetlights when he glided by them. Thin, violet lines traced along his torso and limbs in intricate, almost organic patterns, pulsing faintly with his unnatural psionic energy. From just above his elbows to his ribs were a pair of dark purple, bat-like wings. Not true wings, but a membranous cape stitched into the suit itself, jagged and torn at the edges. A little addition to his costume that helped with gliding, and with his persona. 

He left the dealer in a slump on the ground, brushing back long black hair with his long, gloved, clawed hand as he rose to his full height. His glowing red eyes gleamed in the night as he made his way over to the edge of the building where he perched. Brooklyn's heartbeat pulsed below him. He could hear it. The layered rhythms of countless lives moving through the streets. Cars idling at red lights, voices rising in laughter or argument, the click of heels against pavement. It was all so loud. A symphony of the living, carrying on as if the night did not belong to creatures like him.

Then, something different. A scent on the wind, acrid and bitter, cutting through the familiar stench of the city. Smoke. Morbius’ head snapped toward the source, a column of black rose against the darkened sky, thick and suffocating, curling high above the rooftops. Fire. Somewhere relatively nearby. His thoughts were cut short when his enhanced hearing picked up on the distant, panicked cries echoing out from the building.

His claws tightened against the buildings edge as instinct warred with reason within him. This was not his concern, it was a job for the fire department. He had more important matters to attend to; the bodies in the morgue, the unknown killer, and of course the ever-present hunger gnawing at his insides, demanding him to feed even after his recent meal. And yet?

A scream broke his concentration again. A woman's voice crying out for help. For a moment his mind shot back to the fateful night of his first feeding. His mind shot back to memories of Martine, his former fiancee. 

Morbius moved. In one fluid motion he leapt from the rooftop, his wings snapping open to catch the air as he flew through the nightsky. The city blurred beneath him as he glided toward the inferno, the violet tracings on his suit flickering with each shift of his body and leaving a fading trail of purple psionic energy as he cut through the air like a knife.

Closer now. He could feel the heat against his skin, hear the violent groan of the building as it struggled against the flames. The fire was already spreading, crawling hungrily across the structure, consuming it from the inside out. The onlookers below stood frozen, helpless, useless. Some filmed. Others shouted in horror. But none of them acted. Morbius did not hesitate.

His claws found purchase on the blackened brick as he scaled the burning building with unnatural ease. Embers floated past him like fireflies, smoke coiling around his limbs, but he did not stop. A window shattered just ahead, a woman leaned out, coughing, her pained face illuminated by the flickering light behind her.

His glowing red eyes met hers.

She recoiled.

Of course she did.

He was used to that.

The fire behind her surged, swallowing the ceiling in a wave of fire. If she waited a moment longer, there wouldn't be a choice. Morbius didn't wait for her to decide. He lunged forward, crashing through the half-shattered window, talons raking against the frame as he hauled himself inside. The heat wrapped around him like a vice, but he pushed through it. he landed in a crouch in front of her. The woman stumbled back, eyes darting wildly between him and the collapsing room. He could hear her pulse, it was like a hammer pounding her heart against her ribs.

He straightened to his full height, rolling his shoulders as if shaking off the heat. His glowing red eyes locked onto her. "Your fire escape is…inconveniently melted." he remarked, his voice smooth yet tinged with wryness. "I suggest we find another exit."

The woman coughed violently, her legs unsteady. "W-what the hell are you?" she rasped, barely able to get the words out.

Morbius sighed. "Do we really have time for existential questions? I could give you the long answer, but…" He gestured toward the flames creeping across the ceiling. "Something tells me you have more immediate concerns."

She flinched as another wooden beam collapsed behind her, sending a shower of sparks into the air. Morbius took a step forward, his clawed hand outstretched. "Come now, let’s not linger. I'd hate for my good deed to go to waste."

Smoke curled around them, dark and choking. The fire climbed the walls, devouring cheap wallpaper and old wooden beams with frenzied hunger. The whole building groaned in protest, its foundations shifting beneath their feet.
Morbius reached for her and the woman flinched. Just for a second and then, realizing there was no other option, she grabbed onto him.

Morbius pulled her close, shielding her from the thickening smoke as his eyes quickly scanned the room for exit. The fire was encroaching towards them closer by the second, and worse yet had began to burn its way towards the window, their only exit.

They had seconds at best.

With a powerful leap, Morbius pushed off the ground, aiming for the shattered window, but something gave way. A section of the ceiling collapsed with a sickening crack, sending flaming debris tumbling between them and the exit. The force of it knocked the woman from his grip, sending her sprawling onto the blackened floor. She let out a strangled cry, scrambling backward as another burst of fire surged between them, licking at the walls with greedy fingers.

Morbius was on her in an instant, leaping through the wall of fire like a wraith. His taloned hands caught her shoulders, steadying her. She was terrified, close to fainting. 

From the outside, through the shattered window, the scene told a different story. The woman, barely conscious, slumped in his grasp. Morbius hunched over her, his clawed fingers tight around her arms, his fanged mouth close to her throat. His jagged wings stood taut against his arms, catching the firelight, making him look less like a savior and more like a predator about to feed.

The flames cast monstrous shadows against the walls, distorting his silhouette into something other. Something inhuman. To anyone watching from the street, it was a nightmare unfolding before their eyes. A fire made worse by the addition of the Vampyre.

And if any so-called hero had come to play savior tonight, they would only see one thing:

A monster in the fire.

For Michael Morbius his good deed might not have gone to waste, but it definitely wasn't going to go unpunished.