Vlad strides up to the chicken-leg-adorned entrance of the Izbushka restaurant.
Dressed in a black leather coat, tall boots, and dark shades despite the setting sun, the vampire looks ready for The Matrix cosplay.
Two burly bouncers block Vlad’s path.
“The restaurant is closed,” one says in a booming voice.
“Our vendors failed to deliver anything today,” says the other. “The dancers didn’t come, the—”
The first bouncer gives the talkative one such a baleful glare that the man shuts up and channels his anger into giving Vlad a dirty look.
Vlad lifts his sunglasses, revealing mirrored eyes. Before either can say or do anything, he orders them to sleep.
They take an instant nap, and he steps over the bodies and whooshes inside.
The marble floors look extra polished today, and someone has added a few blingy candelabras throughout.
The bouncer didn’t lie. The place is empty of patrons. There are just some members of staff cleaning, and mobster-looking dudes walking about looking bored.
Still, someone must’ve wanted to have fun: the disco ball above the center stage is spinning, the laser show is turned on, and Russian music is blasting through the giant speakers.
The song sounds like the Russian-language version of the one by t.A.T.u. that Felix made me listen to a few years back—All the Things She Said.
A few heads turn in Vlad’s direction as he takes out a shotgun and an Uzi from under his coat.
His Uzi sprays bullets at the nearest goons.
They fall, bleeding all over the glossy floors.
Screams ring out, and the staff bolt for the exit while the gangster types reach for their guns.
Vlad sends another burst of bullets at the gangsters.
Most fall, but a few manage to fire at Vlad—and one bullet tears into his shoulder.
Oblivious to the wound, Vlad keeps shooting until his Uzi runs out of bullets—at which point he tosses it at the nearest goon.
As though propelled by a rocket, the Uzi smashes into the man’s skull, caving it in.
Using his now-empty hand, Vlad lifts his sunglasses and stares at the remaining enemies with those ready-for-glamour eyes.
“Sleep,” he orders over the sounds of music and screaming.
Everyone within eyesight of Vlad’s reflective eyes drops to the ground.
Two dudes at his back don’t fall, however.
They raise their guns.
Vlad must sense them somehow, because he launches into the air in a backward somersault.
The goons’ eyes widen.
Vlad lands behind them and punches one with his free hand while clubbing the other with the butt of the shotgun.
Broken, the goons collapse on the floor.
Which is when Lucretia, Ariel, and Gaius land as if dropping from the sky, surrounding Vlad from three sides.