Neon rain slicks a shuttered blood bank as a bass drop turns alarms into heartbeat. A biotech cartel called the Sovereign uploads a “synthetic dawn” that will make vampires daylight‑proof—unless two Daywalkers cut the cord. Snipes moves like a whisper with teeth; Ali hunts like thunder after lightning.

UV arcs hiss, silver dust blooms, serum clicks into a vein. Set pieces rip: a subway strobe fight where ash falls like snow ; a motorbike sprint up an elevated track into a heli‑ladder snatch ; a mirror‑lab brawl where one wrong step erases your reflection ; and a warehouse rave reborn as a trap—sprinklers rain light, not blood. The villain wears many faces, each hungrier than the last . “Keep up,” he growls. “Lead,” he answers. Two edges, one hunt. Final sting: twin swords cross; the city grid blinks like a pulse. Cut to black.