The city of London had become a twisted work of art. The streets and buildings were the canvas, and the blood that stained the streets was the paint. The flames and smoke served as highlights, surrounding the landscape, adding highlights and dimension to the dreary exhibit.
And Enrico Maxwell, newly-appointed Archbishop of the Vatican's 9th Crusade, was the artist. The armaments of his Crusaders were his watercolors, their weapons his paintbrushes.
"Die, die, die! Kill them all!"
Hanging below a helicopter and observing the ground from within his tektite-reinforced glass barrier, Maxwell's orders boomed through his microphones. At his command, helicopters rained .50 caliber rounds down on the ruins of London, cutting down what little remained of the civilian population. The Millennium forces among them raced away, scattering before the Crusaders' onslaught.
"Filthy vermin. Feel the full force of our wrath! The power of the Vatican! The only good Protestant, is a dead Protestant! AhahahahaHA!"
Maxwell howled with laughter as the machine gun assault was followed up with a salvo of rockets, some aimed for the streets and some aimed for the Deus Ex Machina, which drifted through the air a fair distance away. Both groupings of missiles aimed true, one incinerating vampires and humans alike in the streets, the other cracking the Deus Ex Machina's armor plating.
Maxwell was having the time of his life. At long last, the greatness he had sought for so long was within his grasp.
Tucked away in an alley, Integra Hellsing looked up at the gunships that flew overhead. The tenuous ceasefire between the Vatican and the Hellsing Organization had ended, and she was not happy.
"Maxwell...you have betrayed us."
"Sneak attacks and betrayals are just par for the course in war. In some circumstances, I'd even say praiseworthy. Especially against heathens such as yourself."
Father Alexander Anderson's words only aggravated Integra. She kept her gaze fixed ahead as he continued.
"However, this...this is different. I cannot let this pass."
Anderson's voice wavered, a tinge of anger in it.
"Maxwell, you have become enraptured by your own authority. Intoxicated by your power," he said.
Integra turned back and peered at her formally mortal enemies, the Iscariot Organization, now her unlikely allies who had helped her escape from Millennium's clutches.
"We are meant to be mere instruments of a higher power," said Anderson. "I am but a blade wielded from on high. A guillotine blade in the service of God."
It was Anderson's turn to look up at the choppers passing above them.
"But this Maxwell...what you do tonight is not in the service of God...it is in the service of power! You, Maxwell! YOU'VE TURNED YOUR BACK ON GOD!"
"Father Anderson," interrupted Heinkel Wolfe, one of the many Iscariot assassins assembled around the priest. "You need to focus on your mission, your orders. Maxwell wants Sir Integra Hellsing taken into custody immediately."
Prompted by Heinkel's reminder, the other Iscariots drew out their pistols, pointing them at Integra's face.
"I don't like this," muttered Anderson.
"What you like doesn't enter into it, Anderson. Understand?"
"I still don't like this," Anderson replied.
Before Heinkel could respond, two brilliant beams of light, one red and the other blue, danced through the sky and streaked down into the middle of the group.
The red light landed in front of Integra, revealing itself as the vampire Seras Victoria. With her newfound power, she reached out with her shadowy arm and forced Integra's would-be captors outwards, pushing them away as if they were weightless.
The blue light landed behind Integra, forming into the queen of ice and snow. She was Elsa, queen of Arendelle, queen of the winter. A burst of ice-cold wind flew out from her, and the warrior priests which had flanked Integra from behind were thrown back.
"You all right, Sir Integra? Any injuries?" Seras asked.
"I'm adequate. How's the headquarters?"
"We were attacked by enemy soldiers. We managed to kill them all. But...the mansion has been destroyed. And...Mr. Bernadotte...he is dead, Sir."
Both Elsa and her master sensed the regret in Seras' tone, even when it was masked by the echoes of her vampiric voice.
"Yes, I see," replied Integra. "You drank from Mr. Bernadotte, didn't you? You've finally become a vampire."
Seras forced a smile and gazed back at Integra. "Yes, I have."
Heinkel drew out her own guns. Her close associate, Yumie, followed suit with her own weapon, a razor-sharp katana. They pointed them at Seras, then Elsa, and back again.
"Stand down," Anderson ordered. He came forward, asserting his leadership and authority over his soldiers. "Even with both of your power combined, those girls are way too much for you to handle."
Anderson regarded Seras with a new curiosity. She appeared different from their last encounter.
"Seras Victoria, the vampire. I've got to say, you're starting to become quite the fearsome creature."
"Yes, Father. And I'm getting stronger all the time. I don't think I'll be afraid of anything ever again."
"It's as if your eyes have become windows to a bottomless abyss. It's striking, considering how human you look otherwise. And you..." Anderson looked past Seras and Integra, staring into the eyes of Elsa. "You don't look as dark as when I fought you in that frozen wasteland you called a country. Did you drop the Satanism?"
"It was never me to begin with, Father. If it were, you wouldn't be standing here right now."
Anderson chuckled softly. "My healing's been upgraded since then, pagan. Normally I'd kill a godless heathen like you on the spot for speaking to me the way you just did, but now isn't the time or place, as you can see."
"You're lucky it isn't, papist. I'd hate to have to humiliate you in front of all your friends."
The animosity between the Snow Queen and the Regenerator was cut short when they all sensed something arriving. Integra, Anderson, Seras, Elsa, and the rest all looked in the direction of the River Thames, the dark presence sailing over its waters provoking a sense of dread within them.
The wrecked aircraft carrier drifted up the Thames, pushing aside all in its path. An unnatural fog surrounded the boat, floating up and around it. The ship was a cemetery now, the wreckage of the SR-71 Blackbird doubling as a tombstone and a testament to the massacre that had taken place on the deck of the ship.
With the amount of damage that had been sustained, any other vessel would have sank long before it ever reached London. But this was no longer an ordinary ship, for it was under his control.
Standing on the deck of the ghost ship, the Jackal grasped in his left hand and the Casull gripped in his right, the vampire Alucard laughed. Grinning from ear to ear, his black hair and red coat blew in the wind.
Guns at the ready, Alucard sprinted to the edge of the deck and leapt off. It was a mighty leap, but for him it was effortless. The vampire flew hundreds and hundreds of feet through the air, defying Earth's gravity and laughing at nature's laws.
He cleared the massive gap and descended down into the fiery pits of what was once the mighty capital of Great Britain. He landed, nimbly, in the middle of the armies of his enemies.
Draped in hooded white robes, the faithful zealots of the 9th Crusade stood in formation, shields raised and long rifles at the ready. Opposite them were the remaining vampirized Nazis of the Last Battalion, in full battle gear, braced for the coming conflict.
Golden pages of Scripture swirled about, and in their midst emerged Alexander Anderson, bayonets held up. From above, the Captain dropped from the Deus Ex Machina and fell to the ground, landing in a crouched position. Both he and Anderson walked forward through the gap between the two armies, meeting Alucard in the middle.
Alucard's smile grew wider.
"And so it came to pass, that those who had once gathered before a painted line of spears, found themselves reunited before the real thing."
His most loyal soldiers at his side, the Major stood on top of his zeppelin, marveling at the destruction below that he had caused.
"On one side, a division of Panzergrenadier vampires from Germany's Third Reich: the dreaded 572 vampire soldiers of the Last Battalion. On the other side, 2975 Knights of the Roman Catholic Vatican Curia: 9th Airborne Mobile Crusade. In the middle, Her Majesty's Hellsing Organization. Just 4 of these mighty soldiers remain."
The light from the still-burning rubble of London reflected off of the Major's glasses, projecting a perfect shot of the nightmarish landscape onto the lenses.
"All is ready. The players prepare to take the stage, and the curtain rises over this Walpurgis dawn."
"My lord and master! Integra Hellsing! Give me your orders!"
"Alucard, take heed..."
From the relative safety of a rooftop stood Integra, Seras and Elsa. At their vantage point the Hellsing women viewed the collective below, ready for battle.
"...here are your orders. Your silver gun shall stain the white army crimson. Your iron gun shall stain the black army scarlet. I would know my foes by the stains of red you leave upon their chests. Now search and destroy! Search, and destroy! Run them down! Do not let any of them leave the island alive!"
Even in a whisper, Integra could hear Alucard's voice trailing up to her.
"My master...it shall be done. As you command."
"Release Control Art Restriction 0. Announce your return. Say the words and release your full power. Now!"
Elsa saw a cold blue mist, not unlike something she might have made, blow out of the vampire's mouth. And with a voice steeled for what was to come, Alucard spoke.
"I am...the Bird of Hermes."
A ways off, the SR-71 on the deck of the aircraft carrier started crumbling. The fuselage fell away, exposing what lay within: a coffin incsribed with a glowing white sigil. Its lid moved aside.
"HERE STANDETH THE BIRD OF HERMES, EATING MY OWN WINGS..."
With a yell, Alexander Anderson hurled a handful of his blessed blades at the vampire. The Captain added his own spinning kick, delivering a heavy blow upon his enemy.
It was all the others needed. The Last Battalion and the Crusaders rushed forward, readying their guns and firing into Alucard, now shifting into something entirely different.
Anderson leapt into the air, preparing for another attack.
"It's as if everyone here can feel it coming," he thought aloud. "Something terrible is about to happen. If we can't put this monster down, we may all be doomed."
"...TO KEEP...MYSELF TAME."
"More tea, Your Majesty?"
"No thank you, Kai. I've already had 5 cups of that stuff, and it isn't helping."
Agdar set aside his cup and saucer for his servant to take. Kai took it, but he stopped, concerned.
"In my humble opinion, sir, you need not be worried. Transylvania is an extremely distant land. Even if this man was bent on conquest, he would never make his way here."
"That thing is not a man, Kai. It's a monster. And we aren't equipped to deal with something like it."
The king of Arendelle reached for the bottle of wine on his desk.
"What of the..." Kai dropped his voice. "...the princess?"
"She's only a child, Kai. And the notion of my own daughter...used as what? A weapon of war?"
"Begging your pardon, my king. But perhaps, in time her...gift...may be used to defend against something such as him?"
Agdar leaned back in his chair, loosening the top button of his tunic.
"Maybe. But that must be left up to her. What she chooses to do with her abilities, will ultimately be her decision. I only hope she will use them for the good of everyone."
The king stared into the bottle, swishing the dark red liquid inside it.
"...I suppose you're right, Kai. For now, he's Transylvania's problem. Hopefully someone will put that thing out of its misery."
Mystic cards sliced through Nazi faces. Magic bullets blasted away Crusader heads. And in the middle of it all was the writhing black mass of eyes, teeth, and tendrils, growing in size and threatening to swallow all in its path.
What was left of the North Mountain, absorbed from the skirmish in Arendelle, rained down on the enemy troops. A storm of rocks and boulders smashed through groups of soldiers, utterly crushing them.
Its appearance alternating between liquid and fire, the twisted darkness washed down on its foes, absorbing their essences. The edges of it pooled around the foundations of the surrounding buildings, and soon, the souls that had been locked away for centuries emerged. Rising up out of their mass grave, the legions of the dead moaned, hungering for living flesh.
"No. Stop it! It's impossible! How can something like that exist?!"
Enrico Maxwell, safe inside his glass shield, was horrified. Never in all of his years serving the Vatican had he seen such a thing as the chaotic entity that stirred below him. Not even in his worst nightmares.
Even Father Alexander Anderson felt fear within himself. On the blasted cobblestone streets he stood, revulsed.
"No matter how hard we try, we're never going to be able to kill you, are we? How many people have you consumed in your time on Earth? How many lost souls are trapped within you?" he shouted at the black mass.
More ghouls arose, on horseback and coated with armor, and armed with spears, swords, shields and bows; an army fit for an undead king.
Maxwell started to shake involuntarily.
"...it can't be...you've consumed them! Your own soldiers! Your own subjects! You're a fiend! A monster! A devil! You...DRACULA!"
The darkness in the streets moved aside, revealing the being that Maxwell spoke of.
Dressed in black armor, Count Dracula raised his arms. At his command rose the rest of his army, the souls he had carried within him for centuries.
Riding on snorting demonic horses, they charged forth. The beating of hooves and clanking of armor filled the air. Along with the rest of the ghouls, Dracula's army moved as a collective force, rushing through the streets of London and bearing down on their hapless opponents.
"Full perimeter defence! Square up! Close formation!"
"Kill it! Everyone open fire!"
"Open fire!"
Commanders of both the Last Battalion and the Crusaders screamed orders at their troops.
Their bullets did nothing to stop the waves of undead that came at them. Both the Papal Knights and the vampires were quickly overcome. Some tried to run, but it was futile. Dracula's familiars overtook them. The armies, Catholic and Nazi alike, were being destroyed. Some were seized and eaten, some were crushed underfoot, some were stabbed through with spears.
The only forces untouched were the Vatican's air support.
"Fire! Fire! It's a nightmare down there! It's Hell! We keep shooting, and it keeps coming!"
Playing cards sped through the air, cutting through the helicopters like they were paper. Accompanying the cards, a magic bullet zigzagged about, taking down more choppers.
The consumed souls of Tubalcain Alhambra and Rip Van Winkle smiled at their handiwork. Where they once aligned themselves against Dracula, they now found themselves under his control. Just like the rest of Dracula's familiars, they existed only to serve him now.
"Let's go, Seras. The Count awaits us down below."
At Integra's order, Seras started to leave with her. But they were stopped by Elsa's voice.
"My master..."
Integra turned around, Elsa bowed before her.
"...your orders?"
Integra glanced up at the helicopter with the glass case hanging from it, then at the Deus Ex Machina, which had been silently hovering above everything, its occupants quietly observing the unfolding carnage all the while.
"Take down that zealot in the chopper. Then I want you to get rid of the zeppelin. They're both eyesores."
Elsa stood up, her hands glowing with blue light.
"It shall be done, my master."
Seras jumped from the rooftop, carrying Integra with her and leaving Elsa standing alone.
The Snow Queen took a moment to herself to view the awakened souls running through the streets below. They moved as one, fought as one, and killed as one.
There must have been millions of them. Queen Elsa saw all types of different ghouls, dressed in all manners of different clothing, rotting imitations of what they once were in life. Some wore military uniforms, some wore peasants clothing, some were dressed like royalty.
Others didn't even resemble a human. Strange creatures of unknown origin were among the writhing crowds, with some looking like mutated human hands, others as a type of weird starfish, and still others as a sort of hybrid between fungus and spiders. But no matter their appearance, at some point in history they had all fallen to Dracula's power, their blood and soul absorbed by him.
It was time. With no effort at all, Elsa sent an ice spike flying straight at Archbishop Maxwell's helicopter.
"Our lines are crumbling! Bishop, please order a withdraw! We're being slaughtered! BISHOP!"
"SHUT...UP!" Enrico Maxwell screamed through the microphones at the commander. "Stop calling me that! You address me as Archbishop!"
His helicopter exploded as something crashed into it, and Maxwell plunged down to the hard ground. But his barrier remained intact, shielding him from the worst of the impact. Even so, it may have been better if he had died from the fall, for he was now in a far worse situation.
His microphones were broken and the truck that the barrier had rested on was reduced to worthless scrap. Ghouls clawed at Maxwell's glass barrier, desiring the tasty meat that lay inside.
The Archbishop recoiled in terror, but when he saw that the structure was holding the dead back, he smiled.
"This is hardened tektite-compound reinforced glass! You won't even be able to scratch it!"
A bayonet glinted in the sky, then flew down and pierced through the glass, almost getting Maxwell's head in the process. Cracks in the glass spread out from where the bayonet was stuck through.
Through the shattering glass, Maxwell saw the priest standing atop a hill of rubble, regarding the Archbishop with a stern gaze.
"Anderson!"
The ghouls started closing in.
"Anderson!"
"We are the soldiers of Iscariot. We are the instruments of God's wrath on Earth. Together we march in lockstep to shatter the dreams of the unrighteous and unholy."
Cold, rotting hands grasped Maxwell.
"Goodbye, my friend..." said Anderson.
"Ah! AAAAH!"
Maxwell's ground forces had been consumed, his air support had been blasted out of the sky, and his dream of claiming London for the Vatican had been broken. So he did the only thing he could do.
He begged.
"Anderson! Anderson! ANDERSON!"
Maxwell reached out his hand in desperation.
"Save me! Alexander! Please! Please sir!"
His only response was a cold, unfeeling expression from the paladin.
"PLEASE, S-"
Words were replaced with wet gasps as spears erupted from the ground, puncturing the Archbishop's lungs. He was raised up into the air on a bed of long spikes, his arms and eyes twitching madly as he watched his own blood fall back down to him.
Is this it? Am I to die here? Alone?
Maxwell held his barely functional arm to the sky.
No...no. I was born alone. I don't want to die alone.
His arm, and the life in his eyes, fell away.
Jesus....
As the priest walked through the crowd of parted ghouls, he remembered the first day Maxwell came to his orphanage. He remembered the angry young boy that wondered why his parents had abandoned him to the Church, the same boy that promised he would become great one day, that he would have his revenge on all who had wronged him.
Anderson knelt near the slain Maxwell, the eyes of his corpse clouded over.
"You are such a foolish boy," Anderson whispered. "A stupid, foolish boy."
He moved his hand over Maxwell's eyelids, sealing them shut. Then, he stood up and walked off, leaving the fallen Archbishop behind.
"This is Father Anderson, calling all paladins. We're returning to the Vatican. The 9th Crusade Expeditionary Force Reconquista has been completely destroyed. Dawn's approaching. Our dreams are dashed. We're returning to the Vatican."
From the other end of his earpiece came Heinkel's voice.
"Anderson. You're not serious?"
"It's not your place to die here. Retreat! Return to the Vatican! Protect the Pope! Protect the Church, 'til the End Days! As for me..."
Anderson sized up the sea of ghouls, who still made no move to attack him.
"...I'm going to be staying behind. I will find Alucard, and I will defeat him."
"Anderson! What do you think is going to happen if you fight him?!" Yumie protested over the line.
"It doesn't matter. It's now, or never. Finally, Alucard has unlocked the last of the restraints upon his power. He's finally in a form I may be able to do damage to. The last of his demonic powers have finally been laid bare. He has dispatched all the warriors from his stronghold. Right now, the lord of the manor stands alone. For the first time, I can face a single vampire in combat. Dracula stands alone."
The ghouls grew more restless, and Anderson glared at the Deus Ex Machina, floating high above the city.
"This...all this was the sole objective of that mad battalion commander. It was a giant sacrifice designed to make Alucard vulnerable. A thousand SS soldiers, 3000 Crusaders, a million British citizens, all of them, friend and foe alike. And finally, he knew I'd be here."
With a wave of his hand, more of Anderson's shining papers of holy text spun around and rustled in the wind.
"Farewell gentlemen. Do not weep for Maxwell, the poor hapless fool."
Some pages of Scripture settled gently around Maxwell's lifeless body.
"He died as he lived: a spineless coward. Farewell, and may we meet again in Limbo."
His friends tried to call out to him over his earpiece, but Anderson removed it and crushed it under his foot.
Suddenly he felt colder, and he knew who was near him. It was the only person who, right now, could make him turn his back on an army of ghouls to look.
"Ice witch."
"Fanatic."
Two bayonets slid out of Anderson's sleeves. He held them tightly in his hands, and for a second considered switching his priorities to the Snow Queen. But instead, he only spoke back to her.
"Was that you who brought Maxwell's helicopter down?"
"It was," Elsa replied.
"...good. Someone had to put him down..."
The two stared up at the Deus Ex Machina.
"Tell me, heathen...what's your stake in all of this?" Anderson asked.
Elsa shut her eyes, thinking of her long life and all of the events that had led up to this point.
"We all have our reasons...I do this in remembrance of what once was. And my gifts...my curse...it's caused so much death and destruction. I failed the people closest to me..."
Elsa had no idea why she was even telling this to Anderson. Neither of them shared anything in common, but she continued anyway.
"...this is all I have now. The only way I can atone for my past. Maybe one day, I'll make it up to them."
"There's no atonement for things like you, witch. Even so..." Anderson thought aloud, "...you seem to at least have a conscience. Maybe if you kill yourself out of repentance, the Almighty will deem it fit to send you to Purgatory. Either way, do us all a favor..."
"Yes?"
"Get that damned airship out of the sky. Even I'm sick of looking at it. As for me, I have a score to settle with the vampire."
"You won't survive. Not against him," said Elsa.
"Maybe not. But there's no going back now. Now..." Anderson turned back to the hordes of ghouls "...off with you. I have a vampire to kill."
Elsa watched Anderson leap over some ghouls, turn a corner and run out of sight, the undead servants of Dracula hot on his heels.
The power welled up within Elsa, the familiar charging of arcane magic that originated within her very being and radiated out from her.
The winter was begging for release, and Elsa granted it that release. A charged bolt of blue shot from her hand, several large shards of ice spinning through the air. The giant projectiles spun to their target: the Deus Ex Machina, which was about to be blown to pieces.
The ice fell short, not even making it halfway to its destination before being broken apart by an invisible force.
Elsa stood in disbelief. Mystified, she threw another wave of hardened snowflakes at the zeppelin. They, too, were stopped dead in their tracks, shattering to pieces in mid-flight.
The Snow Queen frowned and flexed her hands, then did a running jump up to the waiting airship.
If she couldn't shoot it out of the air, then she would snap it apart with her hands.
"And so the Winter Goddess comes flying to our doorstep. Skadi, mother of the wind and snow, is now arriving to unleash nature's fury upon us."
Still standing on top of his airborne base, the Major looked down at the approaching queen, somewhat amused.
"Tell me, herr Doctor..."
"Sir?"
"...are the experiments ready?"
The Doctor smirked. "Yes, my Major. They are ready for field deployment, per your order."
"Then it is time. Go back inside and prepare them for battle. Warrant officer Schrödinger will assist you."
"But Major! I hate doing chores! Haven't I done enough already?"
"Tsk tsk. Now is not the time for laziness, my boy. Our plans are reaching their spectacular conclusion."
"Our commander is right, herr Schrödinger. Come, let us prepare."
The werecat followed the Doctor through the air hatch, into the ship's interior, just as Elsa landed on the roof.
The Major raised a hand in greeting.
"Guten tag, fräulein. You arrived later than expected, hm? I don't blame you for getting away from it all, it is much nicer up here, is it not?"
"You seem a bit too cheerful for a man who's about to die," Elsa growled.
"Not at all, my dear. For today will not be my death, but rather..." the Major glared back at her "...yours."
It all happened so fast. Something swiped through Elsa's leg, slicing clean through it. She fell, shocked. But whatever it was, she wasn't about to let it stop her.
Turquoise energies flowed and in less than a second, Elsa's leg had regenerated and she was back on her feet. She looked around, and saw what had attacked her.
A man, standing at the other end of the zeppelin. A man, dressed all in black, in a butler's attire.
A man in a monocle, ponytail blowing in the wind, surrounded by blue wires that hovered around him.
Elsa couldn't believe her eyes.
"Walter?!"
"Excellent work, my butler. Please get this ugly thing out of our sight."
Walter moved in front of the Major, who headed down the same hatch as Schrödinger and the Doctor.
"Walter?" Elsa repeated. "What the hell are you doing here?! With them?! What...why..."
Circling each other, Elsa and Walter were each ready to unleash an attack on the other; Elsa with her icy winter magic, Walter with a hundred microfilament wires.
"Why not?"
Walter's wires ensnared the Snow Queen, picking her up off the zeppelin and throwing her back down to the hard ground. She slammed straight through the roof of a building and all the way down to the ground level, hitting it so hard that it collapsed on top of her.
In the half-second it took for Elsa to punch up through the debris, Walter had already joined her on the streets.
"You're the last person I would have expected."
"It's always the way, isn't it Elsa? Given your past I thought you would have known that by now," Walter said. The wires danced around him, controlled like they were extensions of his own body. "Still, I suppose I can't blame you. Not even Alucard suspected me."
Elsa threw a flurry of icicles at Walter, but he sidestepped most of them. The remainder he blocked with his wires, woven together into glowing shields.
Walter responded with his own attack, lifting eight or nine abandoned vehicles off of the roads and pitching them at Elsa. The Snow Queen blasted each of them aside, waiting for the biggest vehicle, a semi truck, to come to her. She grabbed it and swung it around, throwing it right back at her opponent.
A single blue wire sliced through the truck, splitting it vertically. Its halves fell to either side of Walter.
Elsa knew she wasn't going to win like this. She generated a wall of ice in front of her, and ran into an alley out of Walter's sight.
The barrier was easily broken down by Walter, but he did not see her behind it.
"There's no point in hiding from me. I will find you, one way or the other."
Walter began to cleave away the ruined concrete facades, one of which he knew the queen was hiding behind, when he heard an odd noise in the air behind him.
It was the flapping of wings, unsheathing of blades and drawing of bowstrings. Walter spun around and looked up.
A small army of winged humanoid women were swooping down at him, their feathered wings gliding on the wind's current. Their skin was tinged with blue, a hint at their origin.
"The valkyries, Snow Queen? Really? You can't fight me face to face, and so you summon little bird people to send after me? How...pathetic."
Walter waved his hand in dismissal. His wires followed his motion, breaking through valkyrie armor, weapons, bone and flesh. He watched as their remains fell out of the sky, splattering against the ground in a gruesome mess.
"Your people believed them to choose who would live and die in battle, is that right, Elsa? Well..."
Walter spoke to empty air, but he knew she was somewhere, listening.
"...perhaps they did. But I am Walter C. Dornez, the Angel of Death. And even the souls of the gods, I may reap as I see fit."
"That's right, keep talking, you bastard..."
Undetected behind a big pile of debris, Elsa aimed her crossbow, the Ichaival, at the back of Walter's skull. She pressed the trigger.
The crossbow blew apart, taking both of her hands with it and sending her flying back.
"Never trust another to choose your weapon for you, Elsa. Don't you remember who created that gun for you?" Walter said coolly, slowly making his way to her.
Elsa rose to her feet, her hands already healed and shining with more magic. But she never got the chance to release it, for more wires wrapped around her body.
Walter sent her crashing through the side of another skyscraper, pulling her through concrete, steel, wood and plaster. She flew through the other side and fell at Walter's feet.
The Queen of Winter stared up at Walter. He was so close. She rushed him, the knife of frost in her hand aimed right at his face.
Walter sidestepped it so quickly that she didn't even see him move. One moment he was right in front of her, the next he was off to her side, a wire extended above the ground to trip her. Elsa hit the ground face-first.
Now she was angry. She got back up and attacked Walter once more, hurling volleys of her magic at him.
But he was fast. Impossibly fast. Even faster than she was. So fast, that even her godly eyes couldn't see him.
"Too slow. You're far too slow."
Walter stood a few dozen feet behind Elsa, balanced perfectly on one of Alucard's spears.
"Alucard spoke very highly of you, Snow Queen. He told me of a great and terrible Ice Goddess that tore through her enemies like a hurricane tearing through grass. He told me of a feared Winter Spirit that commanded the wind and sky itself, a Spirit that lay waste to entire armies. But I must say..." Walter removed his monocle and polished it on his vest, "...I believe he was exaggerating. Here I was, expecting a pitched battle, and all I encounter is a musty, forgotten deity that can't even put up a proper fight."
"I'm just getting warmed up, bastard."
"Yes, I'm sure you are." Walter hopped off the spike and started walking away. "Much as I would like you to die by my hand, those are not my orders. I was to merely soften you up, while the other two finish you off."
"...what?"
"I will have the pleasure of ending Alucard's life. But for you...the Major has something different in mind. Farewell, goddess."
Walter made his exit as two figures dropped out of the bottom of the Deus Ex Machina.
One of them landed far to Elsa's left, one of them to her far right. In her peripheral vision, she saw the two individuals standing there, not moving a muscle.
Elsa turned to her left.
It was a man, dressed in a dark robe, his face hidden behind a white, featureless mask. Nasty-looking blades were fixed to the gauntlets on his forearms. The swastika, a symbol now familiar to queen of Arendelle, was emblazoned on the armband on the man's left arm.
Elsa turned to her right.
This one was definitely female, garbed in a kind of Gothic wedding dress. Frills covered the hem and long sleeves, and like her male counterpart, her face was also obscured, a black funeral shroud covering her. Her left arm sported its own red Nazi banner.
The woman snapped her gloved fingers, and the area turned black.
The Jackal ripped a hole into Anderson's left arm, exposing sinew and spraying some of his blood onto the pavement. But it did not deter the man of Iscariot. He cut down a few ghouls as their master leapt back, sailing well past the demonic crowds and landing behind them.
Anderson grimaced when another magical bullet zigzagged around and shot through his chest, then yelled when a group of playing cards sliced into him as they flew past him.
"Now what? What will you do? Your Dragon stands before you, Catholic." Alucard's eyes glared at his foe, a brilliant red glare. "You're going to defeat me, is that right? What do you think your chances are? One in a hundred? One in a thousand? In ten thousand? A million? A billion, maybe?"
"I am more than prepared to destroy you, you monster," Anderson snarled. "No matter what the odds are against me."
The Major smiled as he heard the desperate cries of his men through the speakers of his control room. They shouted about running out of ammunition and losing contact with platoons. But to their leader, it was all just background noise.
"Oh butler, mix me up some Van Houten cocoa and bring it right away. And don't hold back on the cream and sugar."
Walter Dornez, returned to his new master's side, bowed to the Major, then headed to the kitchens.
"London has been destroyed, the Crusaders have all perished, and the Last Battalion is dying in the streets," gloated the Major. "Elsa and Alucard are down there. And I sit...up here."
He looked up at the screens. One showed Anderson standing before Alucard and his ghouls, the other showed Elsa trapped in a field of darkness.
"It's perfection. Everything is proceeding just as I planned."
At least when Zorin Blitz attacked her, Queen Elsa of Arendelle could still see, albeit only illusions. But now, she could not see anything, not even her own hand in front of her face. Blackness filled her vision, and she could not determine the way forward.
A blade cut into Elsa's back as her assailant ran past. Any ordinary blade wouldn't have even been able to injure her, but this one actually caused her pain; it was not a physical pain, but rather something that affected her on the mental level.
Somewhere in the dark the man hit her again, this time in the chest. Elsa quickly surmised that he was attacking her with some kind of psychic weapon, but she had no time to react.
Her attacker dealt a third blow to her head and she was sent reeling. Her body had no problems healing from the physical wounds caused by these swords, but she had difficulty recovering from what it was doing to her emotions.
With each strike, she felt her will fade. If she wanted to walk away from this, she would have to act swiftly.
Elsa sent out an omnidirectional blast of ice, and the resulting inhuman howl of agony told her she had found her mark.
The field of darkness dissipated, and Elsa's vision returned. She looked at the woman, lying face down on the ground, an icicle protruding from her.
The Snow Queen slowly walked up to the spellcaster, picked her up by the neck and removed her veil.
The woman was in a state of decomposition, looking like one of Alucard's ghouls. But her canines and incisors were much longer; the telltale sign of a vampire.
Were it not for the woman's hair, Elsa may not have even realized who she really was at first. But there was no mistaking the dark brown color of the strands of hair, or the crown braid that the woman always styled it into.
Idunn's eyes opened. The warm face of mother that had once peered into a blonde-haired infant's crib long ago, was now the gaunt, screeching face of a monster that swiped at its child with sharp claws.
Elsa held her mother in the air at arm's length. She felt her emotions change, but this time it was not caused by any weapon striking her.
A lump rose in Elsa's throat.
"Mom...mom, please stop this. It's me...Elsa..."
The struggling thing would not listen. Its shrieks only grew louder, its thrashing more violent.
"Please...I don't want to do this. Mom..."
"SSSKKKKKKKRRREEEEEEE-"
Idunn's head fell to the ground, her decapitated body soon joining it when Elsa let go.
The queen turned around just in time to catch the man's arms, tearing the gauntlets off of him and breaking his weapons in two.
She already knew who he was, but she swatted his mask aside all the same.
The undead face of King Agdar stared back at her, looking even more skeletal than his wife.
Agdar took a step toward his daughter, but stopped. His eyes went wide, appearing as a man that had just realized he was living in a nightmare. He looked down at himself, and surveyed his hands, his legs, his feet.
He fell to his knees, and gradually moved his head up to look at his daughter.
"Eeeeee...Eeeeellllsssaaaaa..."
Elsa gritted her teeth as Agdar ripped open the cloth around his chest, exposing his rotting chest cavity, and his beating black heart infused with the Doctor's forbidden science.
"Kkkillll...kill meeeeeee..."
She couldn't stand it any longer. Elsa drove a cold stake into him, piercing his heart.
Bleeding out in his death throes, Agdar crawled over to his wife, gently took hold of her hand, and collapsed.
Elsa watched blue flames engulf both of their corpses and knelt before the funeral pyre of her parents.
She had lost them all over again.
Prince Hans of the Southern Isles was never the type to face great danger head-on. In his life he preferred to wait for opportunity to present itself before making a decision.
In a way, he still followed that train of thought, even as a mindless ghoul. Not consciously, of course. Now he was just another one of Dracula's minions, mindless fodder for battle.
Hans shuffled about with a group of his fellow ghouls, slowly walking up behind Father Alexander Anderson, who was still kneeling, bleeding and gasping for air.
Prince Hans reached for Anderson. The priest spun around on his feet and swiftly chopped down the zombified prince, as well as three other ghouls.
The undead, 13th prince of the forgotten Southern Isles fell down dead (truly dead this time), just another impure soul that had been cut down by Saint Guillotine.
"What's the matter, Christian? YOUR DRAGON IS WAITING!"
Anderson stirred at Alucard's voice.
"You're bruised and bleeding. Your arm is hanging by a few strands of meat," said Alucard. "What are you going to do? Will you die like a dog? Or on your feet, like a man?"
"What does it matter, vampire?" Anderson replied. He bit onto his sleeve, holding up his useless arm with his teeth. "You think a cut on my arm will stop me? Now shut up, and come at me! Come on, fight me! Hurry! HURRY!"
As Anderson brandished two more bayonets, Alucard smiled slightly.
"Excellent...humans are such fascinating creatures..."
Anderson charged forward, cutting a swath through Alucard's servants. With each sweeping motion of his bayonets, he took down a few more un-lives. But it wasn't enough.
"Exploding chain!"
The priest threw a group of bayonets, each one linked by a chain, into the crowds. The tip of each bayonet exploded, blowing bigger groups of ghouls to pieces, creating a path for Anderson to navigate.
"I want more! More! More, more, MORE!"
Alucard watched Anderson slice apart more of his servants.
What kind of man is this? He reminds me so much...of those other men...
Alucard grinned again.
"Yes. Come to me, Alexander Anderson! Like those other men in that far distant time, come and stand before my gaze. And as that man did long ago, try and run me through and pierce my heart!"
A large, muscular ghoul stepped in between Alucard and Anderson, grunting aggressively.
"OUT OF MY WAY!" Anderson yelled. He stabbed his weapon into the ghoul's mouth as hard as he could, but it was not good enough.
The ghoul grabbed Anderson and held him in place with supernatural strength.
The priest saw Alucard's horsemen ride towards him, spears pointed right at him for a killing stroke. Anderson steeled himself, facing his own death with as much courage as he could muster.
A hail of bullets saved him from impalement, blessed rounds hitting the ghouls on horseback and the stronger one that held him.
"Damn it, I said LEAVE! You stupid meddling idiots!" Anderson yelled at the gathered Iscariots.
"And what did you expect us to do?" Heinkel shot back. "Just pack everything up and run back to the Vatican? What sad sort of thing would that make us? Because none of us would be soldiers of Iscariot anymore!"
"'By the cry "Amen!" and the slaughter of the unworthy, the world slippeth back into place!' Those are the words you taught us, aren't they?" came Yumie's voice. She appeared from behind the larger ghoul, having just finished slicing his head in half with her katana. "Did you think we would abandon our righteousness? You are the idiot."
"You are such a fool!" Anderson shouted back. "I just wanted someone to survive, carry on with our work! Too many have gone to Limbo today!"
He turned back to face the ghouls once again.
"...but since I'm charging full speed into Hell, I might as well have some company. Guess we're going to do this together, then. Let's tell them who we are!"
"We are the soldiers of Iscariot! We are Judas Iscariot!"
Anderson and his comrades ran forward, back into the ghoulish fray.
"Countless little lives struggle and writhe together."
The Major sipped his cocoa, looking at his screens.
"Like tiny cells making up a great beast, struggling towards its own illumination. Seeking blood whilst spilling blood. Continuously multiplying and receding, fighting against itself without end."
He set his cup down on its saucer.
"Whether they seek that enlightenment through the faith in a God, or in the name of Nazism, or even in the creatures called Elsa and Alucard. We are now all united by the same thing. It's a dream come true, isn't it?"
The Major saluted.
"My dark brethrens!"
He glanced at the screen displaying Elsa, and watched her leave the burning corpses of her parents behind her.
"Yes, that is right. Return to your comrades, little Snow Queen. Return to them and move ever closer to your own demise..."
"'Til death! Go to Hell!"
"Amen!"
Paladins pulled out the pins on their vests and passed away in an explosive inferno, taking hordes of ghouls with them.
Anderson jumped through the smoke and landed before Alucard. He stuck his bayonets in the ground.
"You stand before me...I'm impressed. I'm impressed, Iscariot. Show me more, Alexander Anderson!
Father Anderson produced a thin wooden box and held it up in his hand.
"You are not the only one that carries a mighty weapon, vampire."
"So is this the toy that's going to defeat me?"
Anderson answered him by crushing the box in his palm, revealing the white spike within.
"A nail?" Alucard did not look happy. "The Shroud of Turin. The Holy Grail. The Lance of Longinus. Should I assume that you're threatening me with the last of the Holy Artifacts of Rome?"
"Oh, yes."
"It still smells of blood and miracle. The Nail of Helena."
"Prepare!" Anderson pointed the Nail at himself, preparing to stab himself with it.
"Anderson! STOP IT! Do you know what that thing will do to you?! You'll become one of God's monsters!" Alucard angrily said. "Maintain your humanity! Don't succumb to power! Either side, it amounts to the same deal! Whether in the name of the divine or the demonic, you're still a monster in the end! Do you intend to use that scrap of miracle to become nothing but a scrap of miracle yourself?"
Anderson did not lower his arm. Alucard clenched his fists.
"This duel...between us...would you really push it this far? Into the realms that lie beyond mortal life? A monster such as myself...a creature of such weakness that I could not bear the weight of a human life...if I am to be defeated it must be by a human."
Alucard's voice softened.
"Don't do it, human. Don't become a monster...a monster like me."
Anderson moved the Nail closer and spoke.
"I want nothing more than to be a bayonet. A bayonet, wielded by the hand of God. I would have been happy to have been born a storm, or a divine threat. A mighty explosion or even a terrible hurricane. A divine force of nature without a heart, or pity. And if this relic can transform me into such a thing...then I am happy to abandon my humanity."
He fell to his knees and stabbed the Nail into his chest. A few seconds passed, and thin vines started growing from the Nail.
"You...you fool..."
Alucard marched down to Anderson, gripping his guns tightly in his hands.
"YOU BLOODY FOOL!"
Alucard's arm was cut away right as he aimed the Casull at Anderson, followed by his head. The vampire fired the Jackal and blasted a hunk of flesh away from the priest's face. As both of them regenerated, Alucard looked on with rage as he saw what Anderson had done to himself.
More vines covered Anderson's face.
"It's thorns..." said Yumie. "All thorns."
"Anderson...what in God's name have you done to yourself?!" the shocked Heinkel asked.
"His body is no longer that of a man's," Alucard answered. "The only way either of us may return to dust is to have it gouged out of us. The sickness...in our hearts."
"Father Anderson!"
"Anderson!"
A wall of thorns held up bayonets. A wall of darkness held up two guns.
Alucard fired again and again at Anderson. The transformed paladin stabbed him through, and the vampire responded with a shot to the arm.
Both of their wounds healed instantly. Alucard lunged out with a shadowy limb, but it was pushed back by a spiky vine.
Alucard focused on the Nail, still sticking out of Anderson's chest. His eyes narrowed. He stared down the Jackal's sights, and fired right at the Nail.
Anderson hunched over as the round hit him, but he just smiled as it spun in place, unable to penetrate any further.
The monster of God leapt into the air, thousands more vines surrounding him. He was now no longer a man, nor demon. Neither day, nor night.
Alucard aimed the Jackal upwards to his foe, just as the bayonet cleaved into his head.
He dropped the gun, and vines wrapped around his neck.
A sea of flames engulfed the remaining ghouls, as well as the vampire Alucard.
The last thing he heard was the voice of his fledgling.
"Master!"