Chp. 1: People That Shouldn't Exist

Moreno Valley, California

As twilight was falling through the city, a man in a grayish-white suit walked the city streets of Riverside, California. He had a specially modified monocle clipped to the bridge of his nose and over his right eye and his hair was grey, but he wasn't old. In fact, he didn't even have an actual age.

He reached into his white pants and pulled out a watch. "True twilight begins…" he started. "Now." The sky shifted four shades to a kind of purple. "Right on time," he muttered contentedly to himself. He opened the gate to his apartment complex and walked to the door lettered "T". He opened it and sat down on his sofa. He took off the loafers that he had to wear to his meeting with his acquaintances at his work. The boots that he usually wore attracted attention and sometimes were the object of ridicule. The man was usually patient, having to deal with time so much, but after weeks of the same stares and snickers going on, he decided to become more modern. He disliked this, but it had to be done.

He sighed as he lay there on the couch. "These breathers from fighting are most pleasing," he said to himself. "I wish there were more, but the Order of Chronology is strict about these. But I wonder why they sent me here? Fifty years, twelve weeks, six days, eighteen hours, ten minutes, and thirty-two seconds before Dracula is reincarnated, but sometimes there are flukes…"

Just then, the clock he had on his wall floated in the air, spun around, and revealed a cloaked face.

"OC to Aeon, respond," the voice said.

"Right on time, as usual," Aeon commented. "Yes, what am I to do?"

"Something happened in this Era, 2015, that wasn't preserved in records or anything else. However, what did happen caused an entire unraveling in the timeline. Time Reaper didn't even escape it."

"I see," Aeon said, contemplating this. Time Reaper was only defeated by three immortals, one mortal, and himself. And even then, it was a defeat that was shorter than Dracula's. "So, what caused this fluke? Do you have an incentive?"

"No," he replied. "This is up to you. Any individuals you enlist must have a connection with O. o C. XII or have been tagged."

"I see," Aeon said. "Very well." he set the clock back on the wall, causing the reflection to vanish, leaving a regular digital clock.

He walked into his bedroom and opened the closet. He pushed a pocket watch that was glued to the wall and opened a hidden compartment. Even the landlord didn't know, and he tapped and messed with everything that went on with his strange tenant. Inside was a clock with thirteen holes on the clock and at the bottom, the blade of a Great-Sword. It was modified, but still a blade. On the clocks face were thirteen numbers for the "Thirteen Hours."

Aeon smiled lightly as he looked at the clock. "I accept the soul keys of the thirteen individuals. My path is open."

Thirteen of what appeared to be small daggers materialized into the thirteen holes. The Eon-Sword transformed into a small necklace, which Aeon put on.

"Well now," he muttered to himself. "It is time to search for those who have aided me before. If they are still alive."

Brookland, New York

"Mom, where are my shoes?" William yelled to his mother. He was searching frantically for his running shoes. He had a race tonight in the 800m in Frosh/Soph race, and he wasn't going to miss it. It might have been about ten o' clock, but he wasn't going to lose. Besides, he liked night running

"You put them underneath the table!" she shouted back form downstairs. Life wasn't easy for her to raise a child on her own. She was going to get married when her fiancé jilted at the last moment for a blondie that caught his eye. She promised to never marry after what he had done to her and to always keep her surname: Lecarde.

William rushed downstairs and found them immediately. Come on mom, let's go!" he was about to rush off when he remembered that he forgot his uniform. He dashed into the living room. He paused to glance at the spear that sat on the mantle. It had strange design, but it had an aura surrounding it. It was like one that had seen many fights and it had been held by great warriors. He reached out and touched it. Then…

It seemed to glow.

Had he imagined it? Or was it real? It didn't matter right now, but on the way to his meet, he felt like it was calling him. It wanted to be held by him, to be used in a battle, or even a skirmish…

Will shook himself at the starter's line. He had a race to run. He arranged himself into sprinting positions. The man held his gun up and prepared to fire…

Las Vegas, Nevada. Outside the Excalibur hotel

Through the lights and flashes of the wild signs and advertisements, one man dressed in dark black clothes and a velvet top hat stepped through the shadows. He was feeling really groggy and temperamental that night. Perhaps it was the high colors and the brightness of the place he was in. Maybe it was the fact that there was a full moon. Or maybe it was just because he was thirsty.

As he walked in the alley, he thought about the past. Once, when he was much younger, he had fought with three allies against someone who competed for world power. Then he had fallen in love and almost married someone. Luckily, he fell asleep, but not before he did something that he knew he shouldn't have done. But like any man, he couldn't stop himself.

'I dislike thinking about it,' he thought privately to himself, seeing that he rarely talked at all, 'but maybe it didn't survive. If it did, heaven forbid that my father should find out.'

He sighed. He wished he hadn't fallen asleep sometimes. Maria completed a small part of his life he had never completed before. Now she was gone forever…

He shook himself as he entered his hotel room. "I'm back," he replied to the bellhop at the front desk, showing him the number for the hotel.

"Welcome back, Mr.…?" the bellhop was unsure what to call him.

"Lecarde," he muttered, creating a false name that he took from the family he used to know well. "Thank you. Please send up a steak and also some sherry. Zinfandel 1823, if you have it."

"Of course," he said. He was amazed that anyone could drink wine so old. But looking at this guy's hair, you'd think he came from 1823. Silvery-gray, but his face was clean and unmarked.

"Thank you," the man said. He walked into the elevator and pressed the button that sent him to the eighth floor.

He stepped out into his room. It was big, but comfortable in there. He sat on the bed, rummaged through his suitcase, and pulled out a small portrait. It was of him and Maria. It was the one picture in which he was smiling. He had one arm around Maria, and she was glancing fondly at him, hand on her stomach. He could tell it was slightly swollen, but barely. In this picture, he looked so happy, but now, his heart was filled with despair.

The man's blue-violet eyes started to water. He set the picture back in the suitcase next to his fully black suit and cloak that was in there. Also, what was in there that anyone would have found curious was a leather satchel that boys and young men used to carry on their belts back near the Middle Ages. But also there was something that everyone would think was insane to carry around: a red shield with intricate designs on the front made of steel.

The man set a firm face on, and reached his hand into the satchel. No one would have thought it was magic. Out he pulled what looked like a rapier, but was really a modified broadsword with a longer, thinner blade and a handle guard. Three other swords were in their as well: Crissaegrim, Marsil, and the Holy Sword. He swung his sword around a few times, watching it sail through the air, making a slight whistling sound. Its aura was a powerful thing. He set it back in there as he heard a trolley come up.

"Bellboy!" someone called from behind the door. It opened and a trolley was pushed in by a man that was something around thirty-six. "Here is your food, sir."

The man, who didn't turn around, because he could sense the presence of the bellboy, said, "Back in Europe in the 1700s, many people didn't live to turn thirty. Now, here in America, seventy-eight is the normal lifespan of a human being."

"Sir?" the bellboy asked.

"We live our lives, then our souls collect our eternal rewards," he continued. "But what if someone was to continue living for all eternity? That is a curse that no one should have to deal with."

"As you say it," the bellboy agreed, thinking he stepped in at the wrong time.

As if on cue, 'Mr. Lecarde' said, "You didn't step in on the wrong time. You merely had sparked something I never thought about."

The bellboy bowed and left, hoping that he hadn't gone crazy. That man could read his mind.

As the man sat down to eat his meal, he caught scent of something wrong. Something was brewing. Out of his pocket he pulled five cards. He threw them into the air.

A demon, a fairy, a large ancient sword, a skull with green-blue flames surrounding it, and a bat came from them.

"What is it you need, Lord Alucard?" the fairy asked.

"There is something in the air that does not smell right," Alucard said. "I feel an ancient power occurring somewhere. It isn't my father, but it could be linked. I want you, Sword, and Ghost to go find it."

"And what about me and Bat, boss?" the demon asked, floating lazily above Alucard's head, making figure eights with his spear he carried.

"You will accompany me," he said. "Bat, search out my spear and find the ones who have kept it. Youngest age is the best, but old enough to understand speech."

"Of course," the Bat screeched softly. It was hard not to talk without using echo-sound waves when you're a bat. Four of the five flew off as requested.

"So, boss," the demon started, "Who we gonna beat up this time? Do you think I can get some of that sherry once you're done?"

Alucard sighed. Demon was a little enthusiastic when it came to material things. However, it was a good friend once you got to know it. "I guess, but first, you need to brush up on your shape-shifting. Think about it. A vampire walking down one of the biggest cities in the USA with a flying demon carrying a spear next to his shoulder. The media would go insane."

"Well, it would be fun, boss," Demon said, rubbing his hands together, then straying to a shiny doorknob. "Let's kick up a riot."

Alucard sighed. I've been discreet about my existence for the past seven hundred years, and I don't feel like being attacked by the media. Father would start to burn this country up."

"Oh, Old Nasty?" Demon inquired. "Yeah, sounds a lot like him to me. But anyways, where we goin? This place is really flashy and all, but yeah. I want some action. I was cramped in that card for another two centuries while you slept in your coffin. The least you could have done was let me out now and again."

"You're in quite the talkative mood tonight," Alucard observed.

The demon shrugged. "Well, I'm bored. Can I kill the bellboy?"

"No."

"Where are we going to beat someone up?" Demon asked for the second time.

Alucard sighed. "First, we are going to California, near Riverside. I think I know where someone is that I want to talk to."

"Who'd that be?"

"Julian Belmont."