Chapter 2 Flight Night II
Helltanz's notes: Part two, and we progress more into the opening arc
– Chapter Begin –
The duke bowed in an exaggerated fashion, the kind typical of the worst of the nobility. The Inverness he wore, an expensive overcoat complete with cape, was fastidiously tailored. He plastered a sinful grin on his young face. "Pardon my intrusion, but I had been telling Mister Roswell that I have a passion for airships. After some convincing, he offered to let me have a look around the flight deck," purred the duke.
"Duke I apologize, but we cannot allow you up here," the Captain said politely. His tone switched from polite to scolding when he addressed Deputy Roswell. "What's wrong with you, Deputy? You know unauthorized personnel aren't allowed on the deck!" fumed the captain
The duke interjected tonelessly. "Sir, please don't get mad at him. It's my fault."
Jessica didn't like the duke's mannerisms instead of being noble or refined; he came off as crass and unapologetic. Come to think of it she didn't recall any Germanic nobles boarding tonight.
"My apologies, Duke, but we can't allow you on the flight deck. I'm sure you understand.
"What a shame. Just wanted to crash it into something big you know on a lark" the crew failed to understand the black humor as the duke slipped a metallic disk into the control panel. The captain tried to stop him but it was to late.
"What have you done? What was that?"
Dickins stood up to protest but suddenly his control screen flickered and shut down. Before any one could do anything the screen was flooded with computer text.
"Captain its denying access. The computer won't return control."
The ship veered into a nosedive.
"Sir were loosing altitude settings for our destination have changed altitude has dropped to minus three hundred! We're going to crash!"
"That's it? To damn easy if you ask me."
"Are you insane? You'll die too." Bellowed Dickins
The man's face set in a wry grin "Oh I don't think so you filthy Terran. Death isn't in the cards for me," the duke said dryly. Beneath his smug smile, the duke's slender white fangs protruded. "I am a Methuselah. Death can't catch me!"
"Vampire" Dickins took a step back and spat in disgust. He almost didn't get the word out before the duke ripped his throat open. The navigator choking on his blood screamed and then fell to the floor.
The other on the bridge froze in shock. The duke of meinz had long arms, not that it'd meant much, because for a vampire that hadn't been less than a nanosecond. It was called haste. With it that momentary freeze was all the time needed for the vampire.
Blood spurted across the flight deck. Scream of horror came as the crew fell before the duke's brutality.
Only Jessica remained, she quickly paled realizing her fate was far worse then death.
"Pussycat," crooned the blood drenched duke. He was impossibly calm. It was unnerving to the Terran girl, but not nearly as much as his predatory look at her. His fang baring grin was lecherous to the core.
The Duke stood over her and bragged about killing and raping deputy Roswell's family.
The Terran girl trembled and tears began to build in her eyes as he began to molest her.
"Stop."
The duke ignored her. "You're really pretty you know that? I think so. Girls like you are a double dip of delight. First hot sex. Then? A hot meal."
Alfred grabbed her breast in one hand cupped her womanhood with his other, she arced her back as he expected putting her throat in line with his fangs.
"No!" whimpered the Terran. Unknown to the Methuselah a certain Krusnik, drawn by the smell of blood, observed, rather disgusted. He'd smelled the odor earlier, but had ignored it, but now it'd become problematic. A vampire travelling on an Albion air liner, not really an issue, even one enroute to Rome.
Quite suddenly there was the report of a gun a loud harsh boom like thunder. Abel hadn't even left the safety on his gun on, which was useful. He stepped forward, his eyes were still blue even though the nanomachines in his blood were already acting out, their ai was already responding to siutational parameters and chemical signatures all around. This was always the annoying part, there was blood in the air, and he was still a vampire.
Alfred howled as the steam scalded him.
He reached a hand out grabbing the girl's shoulder, and pulling her back "I would suggest we withdraw to the sub bridge." Stated the Krusnik not wishing to further damage the ship with the high caliber anti vampire gun, nor permanently scar the girl with the sight of a vampire battle.
He received no verbal response, and so pressed the girl onwards down the hall. In truth he was tempted sorely by the krusnik's suggest to go back and kill this 'duke of Meinz' and be done with it, but that disc had him concerned. He needed answers, and he'd seen the course data.
"They're all dead. They're all-," She stammered Abel nodded, and pulled her a long. "He will need time to heal, I should have loaded silver bullets though." He commented the last more to himself. That had been a minor oversight on his part. He knew he needed to remedy that. It'd been an oversight, a costly one. The duke of Meinz would likely be expecting a firearm now. "He said he was going to crash the ship into Rome." Abel frowned as she sobbed.
He turned roughly, "What was that? What about Rome he demanded?" It wasn't an unheard of goal... for vampires to want to attack Rome, but to crash ship that was a quarter of a kilometer long into Rome that was a little more ambitious to say the least this was a threat unheard of. Cain and Abel were twins and it showed in some of their actions, they could easily persuade and influence people.
She vomited, this was the second major reason Cain hated humans. It was a hate that most vampires shared. Cain hated their weakness. Abel had hated that he'd been engineered to be a leader on the Mars colony that had been planned. Abel had more pressing worries than the weak stomach of a terran girl. This was a security nightmare a threat leveled against Rome and carried out using an Albion airliner...
"What are we going to do?" she inquired.
He nodded, "Well, we need to stop him I should think." He remarked stroking his jaw, no in truth Meinz was no longer the issue. It was however he'd taken control of the security network. All evidence indicated that Albion had to be using a standardized reproduction via the facilities from the holdout facility constructed in London a thousand plus years ago.. today they called it the ghetto. The ship class layout meant things needed to be done quickly. If the program was doing what he was beginning to expect them they'd likely be on a terminal course. Meinz was probably feeding on the humans, which meant there was little time. Albion would furious if the ship was lost, and would more than likely blame the Vatican, than Alfred's native Germany.
She wondered how they could, the lost technology that the ship ran on its knowledge lost long ago. Abel knew that as well. "The ship has a sub bridge." He remarked, and she immediately objected stating the computer protections that were in place.
"Then it is a good thing I am the foremost knowledgeable person on lost technology on the planet yes?" the computer protections given the computers were being churned out by the automatic production systems in the shelter beneath London. "You can fly I am sure and I'll deal with our rather friend the duke of Meinz." He commented, before assuaging her doubts, and by deal he meant devour. The nanomachines were running off processing the situation.
Now all they had to do was secure the ship and teach the little runt vampire his place a lesson. Threatening to crash the ship into Rome was all well and good, not... no Abel could understand disliking the Vatican, but there were limits he put up with these days. It just was that well going and crashing this two hundred fifty meter vessel into the city would be catastrophic. Abel dropped his pistol on the desk, and pulled a magazine out from his jacket.
"Those are silver bullets,"
"Bacullus cells react negatively to silver concentrate," It'd been a shock to find out back during the war for armageddon. "it helps that the bullets are large too." He added, which was strictly speaking true.
-scene break-
The radio transmission came in at 01:40 was clear, even if the message itself was warped its demands were clear: The Vatican must release all members of the Fleur du Mal within the next hour or Rome would be destroyed. It was quite insane as far as terrorist declarations went. For a terrorist to threat to destroy Rome, well perhaps it was the abrupt radio transmission.
The scene in the castle of San Angelo, the Messenger Angel Hall, the place more commonly known as the Vatican War Room, was a chaotic mess- people shouted and there were loose papers scattered all about. Everyone important was there: The priest who was head of Papal Security, the Deacon of Transportation, and even the pope's sister who served as Foreign Affairs Minister. They had all been roused from their beds, but none of them seemed the least bit tired.
The skinny young boy on the other hand who sat at the head of the table looked like he was about to doze off. This young skinny boy was Alessandro the XVIII, bishop of Rome.
"We have received preliminary intelligence from Department of the Inquisition!" shouted an aide.
"Duke of Meinz, Alfred, Vampire, wanted for sixty seven counts of murder and diablerie." the head priest of General Security announced reading off a sheet of paper tha he had just been handed to him. "How did that murderous thug get onboard the Tristan? How did he get pass security and onto a flight to Rome?" he asked fixing accusatory eyes on the Deacon of Transportation.
"Your Holiness are you awake yet?" asked the Minister of Foreign Affairs. The lovely woman clad in cardinal red smiled looking down on her younger brother, absently wondering if perhaps in ignoring Abel's advice on coffee had been a bad idea.
The youth yawned, and comprised himself. Alessandro XVIII three hundred ninety ninth pope of the Roman Catholic Church, looked very much a child kept past his tuck in hour than the ruler of the most powerful of human governments; the Vatican. His sister had strictly forbid Abel from giving him coffee and so he was quite tired. "Sorry elder sister I fell asleep." He murmured sheepishly.
"You shouldn't be up for this Alec. We can handle it." She said soothingly the duchess of Milan, Minister of Foreign Affairs, and Cardinal Caterina Sforza. Looked warmly at her younger brother. "You should be resting."
He blinked furiously. "I'm okay. What's going on?"
"Its bad." Her calm expression downplayed the grave nature of the situation. They had no idea as to what was going on, on that airship, the worst-case scenario? We give into their demands."
"If it would prevent blood shed. We should release the prisoners."
A deep baritone raised an emphatic objection to such a course of action, already after all the Holy See had been loosing their authority due to the peace with the Empire in the last number of years, well that and the peace between the various secular lords as.
"Elder brother."
"Cardinal Medici."
Their was no love lost between them, Abel had managed to keep the children from fighting to much as children but as adults not even the Krusnik could prevent it all the time. No Abel had tried when he'd been present, but Abel, and Gregorio XXX before him simply had too many other obligations to focus on the siblings.
The Secretary of Vatican Papal Doctrine Francesco di Medici was a large intimidating man, more suited to the affairs of war, than the papacy. Abel would have gladly shipped him off to military service if he could have. Francesco would have been well suited for it, but that had not been his choice.
The three immediately became embroiled in their usual debate. Francesco's brash heavy handed shoot first and kill in the name of God, demanding all bow before the might of the Vatican, God's earthly envoy, as opposed to Caterina's subtle maneuvers. It was debate that always caught Alexandro in the middle of it.
"Cardinal, Ma'am, we have urgent information." Stated the deacon hurriedly he quickly handed a list of names to Caterina.
"The Tristan's passenger roster, Good work Deacon." She was saddened at the plausible loss of life, these people had families, this changed as she read one name.
"Is this correct?"
"Yes Cardinal Abel Nightlord is aboard the Tristan, returning to the Vatican from Albion.
Francesco smirked. "Then we are blessed by God and have nothing to worry about, after all He is more than capable of dealing with a single vampire."
Caterina ignored her brother's zealot remark, "Inform the Iron Maiden to launch on an intercept course," She ordered, and more quietly
"Laudare nomune Domini." Praise the lord. She whispered, though she silently hoped that the Vampire God would show some restraint. Abel was after all referred to by some as the God of Slaughter.
Francesco rolled his shoulders, "I should hardly think your AX is needed Caterina, even a dozen vampires cannot challenge that which destroys cities," The blonde woman gave him a disapproving look. Years ago Francesco had seen Abel grow wings and call the lightning. Her brother saw Abel as the sword that could fell the lay lords, for within upper echelons of the Vatican hierarchy Abel's past was an open secret. "We merely need to wait for the ship to be secured," Of course if it benefited him that Albion would have to explain the loss of their air liner to a vampire, and that Vatican could claim one of their doctors of the church had reclaimed it all the more for his own interests. "Since we are talking of Albion I think we should broach this problem at the upcoming treaty negotiations while they're ongoing." He proclaimed.
Chapter Conclusion
Helltanz's notes: Right to proceed and inform readers, Sword Dancer, the episode, chapter what have you, will be canon in its entirety of novel form. The Flight night should end next chapter.