Hello. Welcome to my latest fanfic that isn't really mine. xD I started an RPG forum at http://hellsingbomb. and the members there and I decided to post up the RP we write as a fanfic. Well, after we all got writers block and couldn't think of what to write in the main RPG, some members got together and created a side plot called No Man's Land. Since that roleplay seemed to be going a little better than the original plot, I decided to go ahead and start posting it up. So far, the story only has OCs, and it will probably stay that way, but it was interesting enough that I thought I'd give it a chance here. Sooo, enjoy!
The writers of this fic are: (these are their usernames on my forum) deadmidas, Senpai, Urahara, Polilla, and D. The only thing I did was edit any typos I saw, and put it all together so it flowed like a story. It's still a bit choppy, but I think it came out all right.
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October 10, 2001
Munich, Germany
Not more than a year has passed since the devastating undead attack on England, and the country is still in a state of recovery. Since then, a large mass of the renegade vampires left behind by the former group known as Millennium have taken refuge in their homeland, Germany, doing the only thing they know anymore: killing and feeding.
After regaining themselves as best they can, the Vatican Section XIII dispatches several agents to Munich, Germany, where their sources have located the most vampiric activity. Iscariot heads out now to crush the last of Millennium, though they may find themselves confronted with new difficulties along the way.
Coincidentally, Iscariot is not the only organization on the scene, as several independent paranormal investigation agencies are aware of the situation. Even individuals independent of these agencies have been hired and dispatched as an additional force to dispose of the last of Millennium.
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The calm, soothing melodies of early morning drew into a serene Roman cathedral like a gentle wave from open stained glass windows. The many voices of this melodic symphony rose and dropped in volume with the current of this celestial wave of dawn. Soft rays of the slowly awakening sun flooded through the multi-colored glass windows, painting distorted images of Catholic saints on the rich, brown floorboard. The ceiling extended into a cylindrical dome, a common architectural structure of Roman cathedrals.
Within this sanctuary lay a quiet room, where stood a pensive man enveloped in solitude. He sat at a desk littered with letters and documents, seeming to be in no way organized. Removing the glasses which rested at the bridge of his nose, he brought a hand to his brow. His expression gave way to his irritation, burdened by the task before him. This collective concentration was soon broken as a man clad in priest garbs burst into the room without the slightest warning.
"Father Ironsoul!"
The man's eyes rose to meet those of his intruder. Setting his glasses at the bridge of his nose once more, he replied with ease, despite the apparent distress of his guest. His voice was serene, and almost soothing in his reply.
"Yes, what have you to report?"
"We've received a report from our sources in England. The enemy is on the move."
With these words, Ironsoul's eyebrows rose, an intrigued spark lit in his eyes.
"Oh? Where are they headed."
"Germany, sir. Munich, Germany. What are your orders."
A smirk came about came to Ironsoul's lips as he drew his eyes from the man, seeming to be enveloped in thought for a moment. What was once calm and serene soon grew to become an ugly sneer and he returning his gaze once more.
"Send out a force to track them. Leave no survivors. My first act as Archbishop shall be to crush these Germans once and for all. And--"
He paused for a moment, hardening his gave, as to make his message clear.
"Have them cut down any heretic who stands in their way."
"As you wish, Archbishop Gabriel Ironsoul."
Gabriel rose from his desk and made for the door, the priest following closely behind him. His steps followed a steady pattern, its rhythm constant, as though he were walking to the beats of his heart. Though Gabriel's steps were not unusually quick, the priest made an effort to keep up with him. He stood neither entirely at Gabriel's side, nor entirely behind him, but somewhat in between. The priest handed him documents to look over as the two of them passed the columns and corridors of the Vatican cathedral.
"Perhaps it would be wise to send Father Joseph to lead the dispatches, sir."
Gabriel seemed entirely enveloped in thought as he flipped through scrambled scraps of paper. Though he seemed to be only half listening to the priest, he made his reply without even seeming to consider his proposal.
"No. He does not listen to orders well. And he's too old for such work, anyway."
"Then what of Father Morris?"
"Not him, either. There's something I don't trust about him..."
Gabriel's voice seemed to trail off as he continued his examining of the documents.
"Then who?"
The priest seemed to have given up offering his opinions on the matter.
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A lonely man stood before the massive gates of the Vatican; such lovely architecture these gates were. The person drew slightly closer to them, investigating the articulate design and texture on the metal. With him standing there looking, the man could have been mistaken as a tourist. Though not many of them were around, especially after Europe's devastating attack against "monster."
He stood back, straightening his posture while adjusting the slipping glasses to their rightful place. His lips tightened with anticipation, it wasn't his own will to come here but that of his Master, Father Charles.
Previously, the night before, Father Charles instructed the young man to enter the gates of the Vatican and to talk to the Archbishop, Father Ironsoul.
"Christopher, my son, I think it is in your best interesting to speak to the Archbishop tomorrow about the unnatural paranormal. I believe you will learn greatly from this." His smile was similar to that of a loving grandfather. The sound of his voice just as sweet and loving.
Christopher sighed from that memory. This was something that he did not wish upon himself. Especially since this was not the late Archbishop, Father Maxwell. Christopher has only heard rumors of his demise, along with Father Ironsoul being the person to murder Father Maxwell for his position.
He shook his head and took of his glasses to clean them. It really didn't concern himself of who did what... just as long as they were doing their job.
Upon placing the glasses to their previous position, Christopher brought up enough courage to enter the gates. Of course, he was stopped by the guards.
"Sir, it is requested that you state your Identification Card as well as another document of your personal information." Commanded the one guard.
Christopher smiled nervously, "O-of course. I have all that is required."
He handed the guard his information. Christopher's face was written with anticipation.
"Alright then, everything seems to be in order. You may enter the Vatican. My God be with you, Father Christopher Ironsword."
He nodded his head in return, "And also with you."
Finally, he could give a sigh of relief. Christopher took in hand his belongings and traveled inside the Vatican. Carols of ringing bells indicated that the time was 9:00 am.
"Well, I don't have to meet with the Archbishop until this afternoon. And, since this is indeed my first time here, a little sight seeing is in order."
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Ah, Germany.
Now a place overrun by Millenium refugees, the pathetic country was useless. No doubt the human population was decreasing, and the Ghoul and Vampire population /was/.
Especially in Munich.
Samael sighed at the thought. Wasn't this country a good place before the first World War? Yes, that might've been the case. Sam couldn't remember very well from back then, but certainly the old country must've had a good time before then. World War I, then Hitler and World War II, then the country was split, especially in the capital. Yes, didn't it finally reach some sort of peace back in '89? Didn't last too long, because now the place was filled with filth. And not the kind Sam was too happy to eat, either.
Ghouls didn't taste good, and Vampires were certainly not a choice. Since there weren't many humans, it was getting harder for a creature like him to find a decent meal.
Samael brushed his bangs out of his face. A different country, a different look, and that was the case for Sam. Or at least he was taller and looked to be in his 20's, complete with longer hair and facial stubble, and resembled a character from a recent Japanese video game. Sam couldn't really remember the name, but it was something weird. Iroquois Plisskin, was it? Yes, that was it..
Approached by two thirsty younglings--his word for a vampire under 100--Sam knew that it wouldn't end pretty. However, showing them that he wasn't a human might help them learn to go bother someone else. A hungry Sam was a dangerous Sam, and a dangerous Sam will rip your head off for no reason whatsoever.
So Sam did just that to one of the two ex-Nazis, and ripped the arm off the other. Violent, sure, but it got the point across. After the first one was taken out, the second /tried/ to run away, and did, but only after leaving his arm with Sam. And that made Samael happy.
Now, to find something to do.
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Night.
It oozed through the streets and alleys, filling gutters and shorting out the electric street lamps, it stuck to the particles of air, it filled the lungs of breathing things, leaving black gunk to line them. One by one, the stars went out, leaving a single solitary disk, a large silver hole punched into the sky. It clung to her skin. She stank of Night.
Metris was dreaming.
Slowly, two blue eyes opened, and peered around blearily, still far off. They came into focus a moment later, the dream forgotten and the tiny, shabby room coming into focus. All of the furniture had been pushed against the windows to block out the sun-save for one that was only covered with a thick quilt. She slept on lumpy mattress under a nest of dusty sheets.
In one fluid movement, Metris stood then strode over to the exposed window, pulling the quilt away. Moonlight and neonlight poured into the room, illuminating her body and the dust that filtered through the chilled air. The freak was naked.
She did not notice the blood covering her until she entered the bathroom, and she did not remember how exactly she had gotten so dirty. She knew that she had fallen asleep upon her return from feeding, as she always did, but that was all. She was getting sloppy, nights were running together in a blur, separated only by blurry dreams that were always forgotten. It was already midnight, she had wasted most of the night and day sleeping, again.
Metris stepped under the freezing water spewing from a rusty faucet, but did not notice. She was trying to remember her dream. Again.
She was getting dressed for the rest of the night.
"It went like this. . ."
Metris' head snapped up, her eyes darted about the room, seeing clearly through the shadows. There was no one there, the wind was howling. Her shoulders relaxed and she ritualistically slipped her gloves on before stepping out into the night in search of a meal and her other comrades. She hummed a little familiar tune to herself.
Metris weaved in and out of the main streets and alleys, blending in easily with the scarce pedestrians out at such a late hour. She had been able to locate a few of the other former soldiers in various parts of the city, most of them had already fed for the night, and then left them- after she was satisfied that they were all in one peace. It was something she felt she needed to do.
The woman's eyes focused in on a lone figure, a female, she could not be older than twenty. She would do. Metris' pupils reduced to tiny slits, and her fangs elongated as she crept closer to the girl, remaining in the shadows. She could smell her blood through her skin, hear her heart beating steadily underneath her ribcage. . .
Something jostled her senses, distracting her from her prey. It was a stranger. Not one of their own, and it was close. Metris pulled back, her target walking on, oblivious to the passing danger, and headed purposefully toward the new presence.
Metris' eyes were narrowed with determination, as she moved through the streets and alleys, trying to find the outsider.
She did not realize the subtle change in direction right away, the tug to her senses was so familiar. A new presence, that of a comrade, a superior officer, made her deviate from her path slightly in order to seek them out.
She emerged from the shadows a moment later, the figure of Sabin Reinhardt coming into focus. Her nose twitched delicately, picking up the metallic scent of blood, it caused her fangs to elongate slightly, remembering her hunger, but she quickly suppressed it.
Apparently, he had just finished feeding. A brief glance to the alley behind Reinhardt confirmed it; she could see the faint outline of a body tucked in the shadows.
In one fluid motion, Metris crossed the abandoned, cracked street, her posture even more stiff and straight than before, and come to a stop a respectable distance from her superior officer.
She greeted him in a clear, almost mechanical voice, "Greetings, Herr Reinhardt." She had purposefully omitted his title. Those were dangerous to use these days.
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The architecture of the Vatican gave Christopher amazement and wonder. Never did he think that such a place could hold such beautiful art within its walls. So much history, more than he could confine to himself. Pictures were taken left and right, mostly of the sculptures that guarded around each of the different halls and doors. Exploring that would have to be for another day for it was just as a wonder in itself to try and not get lost.
In any case, Christopher continued his tour of the Vatican. Asking for directions when needed and taking a break every now and then to gain back his strength. It was this that caught him in amazement. He rested on the marble stoned bench that surrounded a massive fountain. Sitting back, Christopher looked up at the sky,"... such a clear day. Not a single cloud in the sky."
Droplets of water gave relief to Christopher as he rested. The droplets clashed with the sun's raise, giving a glittery show around him. Many hours past that just seemed like minutes to Christopher, and, even memories of the past plagued his mind, sending him to a place far beyond that of reality.
Only the chime of the bells awoke Christopher from the hypnotic curse. Looking up at the time, it read 11:45.
"11:45 am!" He shouted, "I'm going to be late!"
Gathering his belongings as quickly as possible, Christopher rushed to meet with Archbishop Ironsoul. Great, just great! My first time here in the Vatican, the most holy place in the world, and I made a fool out of myself. Christopher glumly thought as he raced inside the massive building.
After rounding the next corner, Christopher fell to the ground to catch his breath. He was dripping of sweat. Something that isn't very business like when meeting someone very important. He hurried again to a wash room.
Christopher was smart, smart enough to carry a change of clothing for such occasions. He did just that, change from his current clothes to clean ones.
Christopher emerged from the wash room like he came to the entrance to the Vatican. He felt more relieved. "I may be late, but I would rather be late and dressed sophisticated than a slob." He joked to himself.
He looked at the time, it read 12: 25 pm. He lowered his head and let out a deep sigh. "I am very late. I might as well just take my time to get there." He said glumly.
Christopher continued along the cobble stone path that surround the entire Vatican. Rays of the sun casted their gaze over him. Time seemed to stand still once more, that feeling like these moments could go on and on forever. Christopher looked up towards the sky, his lips curling up wards, eyes gently squinting from the bright light.
Memories of his past came into view, Christopher faintly smiling at past events that he shared with his family. His heart filled with warmth, joy and love.
This was certainly not like Christopher to be so lost in thought, especially twice in the same day. What was possibly going on to make him act like... just a common day-dreamer? Maybe... just maybe, the sound of someone calling to him from his dream fantasy can finally bring him to such a bleak reality.
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Munich...Munich ...When was the last time he was here? BridgadeFuher Sabin Rienhardt glanced up at the dark sky, red vampiric eyes glimmering. Being tall and lean, he made a powerful and fast soldier. Long blond hair covers parts of his face, parting only for the eyes to show through.
After the attack on London, Millenium had fled back here in Munich. Turning around, he walks down the seemingly empty streets, on the hunt. They had to be extremely careful. Mass slaying of humans would grab the attention of Iscariot and Hellsing. Knowing now the organization potentials, Millenium walked on tiptoes. They even exchanged their uniforms to regular looking human clothes... pathetic yes, but useful.
Movement caught the Brigadefuher's attention, and instead of jumping, he turned his head slightly, not wanting to show alarm. Sabin quickly relaxed when he realized it was only a human woman...no...food... Smirking too himself, he walked towards her.
"Guten abend, mien fraulein" Sabin said snidely, however his voice dripped with honey. "Vhat ist a lady so like yourself doing out here by yourself...?" not waiting for an answer, he continued " Perhaps I should escort you, mien fraulien?" Smiling to himself like a satisfied cat, he offered his arm, in which the woman took.
He walked her in the general direction she was going, until he pulled her into a dark ally. After a brief struggle and a nice meal, he emerged from the alley, wiping blood form his mouth, smiling.
Sabin smirked, red eyes glinting, licking his fangs. He breathes in the metallic air, throughly enjoying what made him truly a vampire. He blinked as he felt another vampire's presence and also hearing his name. Turning around slowly showing no alarm, he smiled at Metris, more of a leer really.
"Guten nacht, Fräulein" He started and paused. "and how exactly do you know my name?" smirking slightly, he hid his suspicion and slight surprise. A complete stranger vampire knowing his name? Sabin studied Metris, pulling as much information from her appearance as he could, a slightly desperate move.
He pulled out a knife, and slit the woman's throat, where the bite marks were, making it look like murder, and let her body drop. Sabin stepped forward, shadows seeming to want to pull him back.
He glanced up at the moon, his thirst fully satisfied. He adjusted his long leather coat, and leaned against the ally wall, crossing his booted legs.
Metris was slightly taken aback as well, but for only a moment. Of course he would not recognize her, she was not a 'soldier' by normal standards, and her uniform was not standard issue.
She only knew who he was simply because she had made a point to know who all of the officers were, and even though she had fled to Munich with the others, she had never really interacted with Sabin until now.
"My apologies," Metris stepped into the alley, out of the street and sights of any passer-by, and stood across from him. She saluted him.
"Metris Saelius, Herr Reinhardt. I am of no rank, but I assure you, we were-are on the same side." She was obviously referring to Millennium.
Blinking, Sabin paused for a milisecond, taken back. Of Millenium? Of course, a batalion of one thousand soldiers, of course he haven't met all of them.
"I see, Fraulien Saelius." He straightens and salutes back, clicking his heels in a Nazi fashion. Smiling he starts again.
"It ist nice to know that ve are on the same side." Sabin's eyes gleam. He looked around, the silent and empty alley and street staring at him blankly.
"My own apologies for acting suspicious of you. "
He smiled slightly at that, watching her.
Metris nodded, signaling her acceptance of his apology. "It is only necessary in these. . .New times." Her demeanor seemed to shift then, from the role of an obedient, formal subordinate, to something else. It was cunning and predatory.
"In fact, before I intercepted you, I was in the process of tracking and investigating an. . . Outsider." The word sounded strange coming from her. As if an 'outsider' was something to not only be investigated, but pursued and torn apart.
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The assistant priest stopped in his tracks, though Gabriel did not seem to take notice of this. He continued to trot down the corridor until the priest call for him. Immediately pausing, Gabriel turned with a puzzled expression, staring back at the priest.
"Yes, what it is?"
The priest seemed almost alarmed as he was address and hesitated to speak.
"Sir, you have a meeting. Don't you remember?"
Gabriel seemed even more bewildered at this, furrowing his brow sceptically.
"With who?"
"Father Christopher Ironsword, sir. You were to meet with him some time ago."
Gabriel's eyebrows rose, both startled and intrigued at this. The two of them stood in an open air corridor, in which the sunlight shone in vibrantly. His face glowed in this light, hair shining in its rays and glasses absorbed in luminescence, hiding his eyes in its reflective shield. The sharp sound of Gabriel closing his book of documents startled the priest, causing him to jump. Holding it under his arm now, he spoke once more.
"Where is he."
His voice was calm and serene. If he were perhaps upset, it did not show in his tone.
"This way, sir."
With that, Gabriel followed the priest with ease as he strode through the corridors.