Charlemagne's Champion
Disclaimer: Don't own Hellsing or any of its characters. (Yes, eventually they will come into this story.)
Prologue: Origins
"In today's news, a great tragedy has occurred on the French coastline. A small fishing village was attacked by terrorists and was nearly wiped out. The village has been liberated by the Special Forces Anti- Terrorist division, but there are virtually no survivors. One can only wonder what would drive these fanatics to such extremes of violence. With you every hour, I'm Belle Chervouz, and this is French World news."
John Carrigan turned off the TV set. As usual, the Knights higher-ups and their newscaster Belle Chervouz had managed to give a plausible, easily accepted story to the people and press about what had happened in the village. It had, of course, not been wiped out by terrorists. The Knights of Charlemagne was an organization created to destroy preternatural threats to France. John was American, on loan from the U.S. department of preternatural defense. A pair of vampires had attacked and killed everyone in the village, turning them all into ghouls. John had gone in alone, making his way past the ghouls without being seen, and had killed the two vampires. He was shocked to find that the ghouls they had made had not been destroyed. After exterminating them, he had brought back some bodies, as well as the two full vampire's bodies. John was waiting in his quarters now as the forensic specialists examined the bodies. To pass the time, he was cleaning and oiling his weapons.
As John turned back to his cleaning table, he caught sight of himself in a mirror. He cut a very intimidating figure, standing six feet seven inches tall in his bare feet, and weighing 335 pounds stark naked. There was almost no fat on his body. His arms were massive, bigger around than most people's legs. Huge, bulging deltoid muscles completed the look. He could lift nearly 5000 pounds.
It was fitting that he should have such huge muscles and be so strong, thought John, seeing as how he was not fully human. John was a nanotech cyborg. The technique had first been developed by the Vatican Section XIII, but the Knights of Charlemagne, working with the U.S. B.P.D. had perfected it. Nanotech implants had been surgically grafted to his heart, eyes, brain, and muscles. These implants contained nanomachines that constantly injected different types of steroids into the various areas that they were connected to. The Knights of Charlemagne medical division had recently developed non-addictive forms of steroids whose affects were almost permanent. When injected into his body via the nanomachines, the steroids increased his reflexes, strength, and endurance. The implants in his eyes had given him the ability to magnify his vision, switch to infrared, and, when combined with micro cameras on his weapons, use a targeting computer to aim his guns.
John sat back down at his table to clean his weapons. The first thing that he cleaned was his pair of Ingram MAC-10s chambered for .45 ACP. He swabbed the barrels out several times with cleaning solution, and sprayed some lube onto the bolt and trigger mechanisms. He rubbed the entire surface of each weapon with oil to prevent rusting, and then reassembled the guns. The MAC-10s went into dual cross-draw shoulder holsters.
John picked up his pair of Heckler and Koch Mk 23 SOCOM .45s and began to clean them. Even though the HKs were the most reliable pistols he had ever used, it was a good idea to keep them in top form. He field- stripped the weapons, cleaned and greased them, reassembled them, and slid them into their twin belt holsters. John took his Colt Python .357 Magnum and swabbed out the barrel. No other cleaning was necessary, as the weapon had not been fired in the latest mission. He greased the surface and lubed the cylinder, then slid the weapon into its boot holster.
As John was finishing the cleaning and greasing of his sawn-off double barreled shotgun, the intercom above his workbench chimed. He snapped the weapon closed and shoved it into its upside down backpack holster. John hit the intercom button.
"What is it?" he demanded. "Did you find anything out about the vampires?"
"Yes, John, we did," came the reply in a slightly subdued voice. "I think you should get down here."
Okay, my first Knights character was something of a flop. This time I'm going for someone a little less over the top. Please review and give suggestions or constructive criticism, but please no flames.
Disclaimer: Don't own Hellsing or any of its characters. (Yes, eventually they will come into this story.)
Prologue: Origins
"In today's news, a great tragedy has occurred on the French coastline. A small fishing village was attacked by terrorists and was nearly wiped out. The village has been liberated by the Special Forces Anti- Terrorist division, but there are virtually no survivors. One can only wonder what would drive these fanatics to such extremes of violence. With you every hour, I'm Belle Chervouz, and this is French World news."
John Carrigan turned off the TV set. As usual, the Knights higher-ups and their newscaster Belle Chervouz had managed to give a plausible, easily accepted story to the people and press about what had happened in the village. It had, of course, not been wiped out by terrorists. The Knights of Charlemagne was an organization created to destroy preternatural threats to France. John was American, on loan from the U.S. department of preternatural defense. A pair of vampires had attacked and killed everyone in the village, turning them all into ghouls. John had gone in alone, making his way past the ghouls without being seen, and had killed the two vampires. He was shocked to find that the ghouls they had made had not been destroyed. After exterminating them, he had brought back some bodies, as well as the two full vampire's bodies. John was waiting in his quarters now as the forensic specialists examined the bodies. To pass the time, he was cleaning and oiling his weapons.
As John turned back to his cleaning table, he caught sight of himself in a mirror. He cut a very intimidating figure, standing six feet seven inches tall in his bare feet, and weighing 335 pounds stark naked. There was almost no fat on his body. His arms were massive, bigger around than most people's legs. Huge, bulging deltoid muscles completed the look. He could lift nearly 5000 pounds.
It was fitting that he should have such huge muscles and be so strong, thought John, seeing as how he was not fully human. John was a nanotech cyborg. The technique had first been developed by the Vatican Section XIII, but the Knights of Charlemagne, working with the U.S. B.P.D. had perfected it. Nanotech implants had been surgically grafted to his heart, eyes, brain, and muscles. These implants contained nanomachines that constantly injected different types of steroids into the various areas that they were connected to. The Knights of Charlemagne medical division had recently developed non-addictive forms of steroids whose affects were almost permanent. When injected into his body via the nanomachines, the steroids increased his reflexes, strength, and endurance. The implants in his eyes had given him the ability to magnify his vision, switch to infrared, and, when combined with micro cameras on his weapons, use a targeting computer to aim his guns.
John sat back down at his table to clean his weapons. The first thing that he cleaned was his pair of Ingram MAC-10s chambered for .45 ACP. He swabbed the barrels out several times with cleaning solution, and sprayed some lube onto the bolt and trigger mechanisms. He rubbed the entire surface of each weapon with oil to prevent rusting, and then reassembled the guns. The MAC-10s went into dual cross-draw shoulder holsters.
John picked up his pair of Heckler and Koch Mk 23 SOCOM .45s and began to clean them. Even though the HKs were the most reliable pistols he had ever used, it was a good idea to keep them in top form. He field- stripped the weapons, cleaned and greased them, reassembled them, and slid them into their twin belt holsters. John took his Colt Python .357 Magnum and swabbed out the barrel. No other cleaning was necessary, as the weapon had not been fired in the latest mission. He greased the surface and lubed the cylinder, then slid the weapon into its boot holster.
As John was finishing the cleaning and greasing of his sawn-off double barreled shotgun, the intercom above his workbench chimed. He snapped the weapon closed and shoved it into its upside down backpack holster. John hit the intercom button.
"What is it?" he demanded. "Did you find anything out about the vampires?"
"Yes, John, we did," came the reply in a slightly subdued voice. "I think you should get down here."
Okay, my first Knights character was something of a flop. This time I'm going for someone a little less over the top. Please review and give suggestions or constructive criticism, but please no flames.