Disclaimer: Hellsing in its entirity belongs to Kouta Hirano and Co. I can't even claim a little scrap of Alucard's trenchcoat. :(
Order 14: Repentence
A purple tinged moon hung low over the jagged horizon. Light gray wisps of cloud skittered before it, barely visible against the deep hue of the night sky. The silence that comes in the wake of a storm blanketed the city, muting out all sounds of life and activity. There was a stillness to the air, a type of peace. The senses percieved calm, the world let out the breath that it had unwittingly been holding. Everything bad that happen had already occurred, the night's share of evilness was already used up. A false sense of security was already in place.
The Tower of London and all around it were in ruins, broken down to rubble in the aftermath of the decisive fight. Bodies clad in Hellsing green lay strewn about, mixed with the splattered remains of SAS freaks. A torn head lolled there, the splintered remnants of a gnawed leg here. Tanks sat crushed beneath fallen blocks of stone, their gun turrets still rotated to aim at the Hellsing copters. Everywhere there was destruction. But in all this chaos, not a single drop of blood. It had all been drained away to fuel the release of Alucard's seal.
At the very pinnacle of the demolished rubble was a gleaming silver stake. It shone vaguely lavender in the light from the moon, smooth and pure. No blood marred its pale surface nor streaked its delicate length. As the eye followed its upwards progression it indeed seemed perfect. Yes, almost complete in perfection save for a sickly pale body impaled partially up its shaft. The limp form of Incognito slumped over, purple markings faded and all but disappeared. The blue fire of Set was no longer visible in his grasp and for all intensive purposes the vampire appeared dead. But then it twitched . . .
Order 14: Repentence
A purple tinged moon hung low over the jagged horizon. Light gray wisps of cloud skittered before it, barely visible against the deep hue of the night sky. The silence that comes in the wake of a storm blanketed the city, muting out all sounds of life and activity. There was a stillness to the air, a type of peace. The senses percieved calm, the world let out the breath that it had unwittingly been holding. Everything bad that happen had already occurred, the night's share of evilness was already used up. A false sense of security was already in place.
The Tower of London and all around it were in ruins, broken down to rubble in the aftermath of the decisive fight. Bodies clad in Hellsing green lay strewn about, mixed with the splattered remains of SAS freaks. A torn head lolled there, the splintered remnants of a gnawed leg here. Tanks sat crushed beneath fallen blocks of stone, their gun turrets still rotated to aim at the Hellsing copters. Everywhere there was destruction. But in all this chaos, not a single drop of blood. It had all been drained away to fuel the release of Alucard's seal.
At the very pinnacle of the demolished rubble was a gleaming silver stake. It shone vaguely lavender in the light from the moon, smooth and pure. No blood marred its pale surface nor streaked its delicate length. As the eye followed its upwards progression it indeed seemed perfect. Yes, almost complete in perfection save for a sickly pale body impaled partially up its shaft. The limp form of Incognito slumped over, purple markings faded and all but disappeared. The blue fire of Set was no longer visible in his grasp and for all intensive purposes the vampire appeared dead. But then it twitched . . .