Order II – Harvest Moon
Darkness filled the rooms on the upper floor of the large manor in the Countryside of England, old and battered to the point of abandonment; the only thing to break the otherwise black setting being the light of the orange harvest moon outside, shining through the window. Far away from that, relics of a bygone era – a lit oil lamp, a gramophone and many old black-and-white photographs – sat on an old desk, the wood mouldy and rotting.
On the floor of the old room, no carpet or hardwood adorned it; instead, a damp and musty bed of earth lay there, covering every square inch of the surface, even that which the furniture stood on. In the corner of the room opposite the desk, an old-fashioned four-poster bed frame stood, decayed and neglected by the passage of time. No mattress or anything of the sort remained; instead, a wooden box – a coffin – had been mounted in its place, leaving the frame more for decoration than purpose.
The coffin on the floor had been emptied, its contents removed some time before and the lid never replaced; in fact, the only proof that a body lad laid there was old bloodstains from decomposition or maiming of the body. What remained was proof of a long-before committed crime, with no victim and likely no criminal left behind.
On the wall, many pages from old journals and newspaper clippings had been placed along the walls. Though old and yellowed, they still bore all then words upon them. Many were written by hand, leaving the ink to smudge over time; but a handful had been typed long before, and still were perfectly clear. Chief among them, from the size and its placement with full visibility, was a document that spoke of a ship having run aground, the crew having vanished without a trace…
As morning approached at London Airport, many busy terminals were filled with people preparing to leave the country and visit far-off places; some were leaving for Stockholm, others Sydney, even to New Delhi or Hong-Kong. One terminal, however, held almost no people there; for it had been reserved for a private flight to Paris early that morning. As the pilot and co-pilot waited at the terminal, arms crossed and left feet tapping, they wondered if there had been some scheduling error; for they had expected their VIPs to be flying out 15 minutes prior.
Suddenly, the form of a rather tall, thin man in unusual clothes got their attention, and they turned to see him as he emerged from the crowd. The man was at least a head taller than either of them, dressed in a scarlet sport jacket with matching dress pants and black Italian loafers; his eyes were hidden behind reflective, red sunglasses, much like movie stars wore; and his long, stringy white hair overlapped his shoulders and his collar, extending half-way down his back.
Looking behind him, the two polits then noticed that this man was not alone. He was accompanied by 4 more people. The first, a brown-haired woman wearing a black satin dress and matching heels, was followed by 4 men in suits, sunglasses and earpieces. Based in the group, it was clear that she was with the first gentleman, and the other 3 were bodyguards for them.
As the red-clad man reached the terminal, he stopped short of the men by 2 feet and reached into his pocket, producing 5 tickets for the flight. "My apologies for the delay," he stated calmly and with both sincerity and politeness. "We had to deal with an urgent matter regarding an employee of ours, and we were slowed considerably as a result of that. I trust that we can still leave shortly."
"Has your luggage cleared security?" one of the two pilots asked, watching as the brown-haired girl stopped beside the tall man and leaned on his shoulder. "If it has, then we can get everything loaded on and proceed. If it has not been, then this will take longer." Hearing these words, the red-clad man uttered a small chuckle.
"I have clearance from the Government of the United Kingdom," he elaborated. "I am to be a guest at the French Embassy, whose government has requested me and with whom I am on very good terms. My baggage has already been cleared. If there are no further delays, I would like to board and make up for lost time."
"As you wish, Ambassador," the first pilot responded, both he and his partner bowing before turning and walking down the short hallway towards the tarmac. Immediately the five members of the group started after them, all but the red-clad man carrying a formal business-like look; the only odd man out simply held his usual grin upon his face.
It took upwards of 5 minutes to reach the plane from the airport, for it had been stationed farther away after the flight had been delayed. None of the members of the party, including the pilots, were particularly pleased about this revelation; especially the woman, who carried a rather large handbag, and the red-clad man, who carried a briefcase in each hand. By the time they reached the plane, some level of tension had grown.
Much to everyone's approval, the plane had been left open for everyone to board quickly upon the arrival of the guests. The plane in question, a 3-engine DC-10, had been chartered specifically for this flight to disguise it as a standard civilian flight; from what the pilots had been told, the ambassador was on private business which had been classified to the utmost level. The only thing he did know, was that they would likely be shot for knowing.
Upon boarding the plane, the two pilots immediately headed for the cockpit at the front of the jet, while the other five boarded into the first-class section. Though this jet was a civilian model, it had been designed internally to fit the specs of a private jet; as such, the front section had comfortable seats around tables, multiple storage outlets, and a small bar fridge at the corner, which had no doubt been stocked for the occasion.
Once the front door of the place to the cockpit had been closed, the red-clad man placed his two briefcases on chairs opposite where everybody would be sitting, and then made a point of reaching over to the door and pulling it upwards, shutting it and locking it so that everyone was where they should be. "Now that our luggage is loaded and we're aboard, we're ready to take off."
"Hold onto that thought for one second," the woman responded, placing her handbag beside the two briefcases and starting back towards the tail of the plane. When she was met with the curious eyes of the agents, her response was, "I had a lot to drink last night, and then was given only a handful of hours to get packed, get some sleep and get dressed. In that rush I haven't had time to-"
"Spare us any further details, my dear," the red-clad man interrupted and told the woman, who simply turned and headed back past the start of the following second class. Turning back to the three agents, who had sat down at a table near the door, the man then looked at them with a sneer and his sunglasses faded away, revealing the red eyes of Alucard underneath.
Grabbing the two briefcases again, he stepped over to the table and sat opposite them, placing both cases on the table side-by-side. "Since you were kind enough to show me your weapons, it's only fair I do the same." He then turned to the left briefcase and clicked the locks, opening it and producing a rather large, long-barrelled silver handgun with a brown grip, as well as a matching magazine.
"This, my friends, is my first Service Weapon since serving under Integra. The Hellsing ARMS .454 Casull Auto. The 39cm barrel fires explosive-tipped .454 Casull rounds, whose cases are made from the silver of the melted-down cross of Lancaster Cathedral. It weighs 6kg loaded with a 12-shot magazine. A rather fun weapon, but a mere toy compared to the weapons I use now." Sneering, he clicked the magazine into the gun and pulled the slide, locking and arming the weapon and placing it on the seat next to him.
"That's a pretty impressive firearm you've got there," the Irish-voiced agent of the group, Brosnan, responded as Alucard reclosed the suitcase and placed it on the floor. As he did so, the agents saw that it contained 5 extra magazines; however, that did not interest them. "Now, if I may ask, what's so special about that other weapon? The black one I saw? The… Jackal, was it?"
"That, my friend, was a recreation of my previous side-arm; the Hellsing Combat Pistol, codenamed The Jackal. That 39cm barrel weapon held a magazine of 12 13mm rounds, mercury cores laced with blessed Macedonian silver. Sadly, that weapon was destroyed in my battle against Incognito; and though a new one was made to replace it, since Walter did not make it, the weapon was a shadow of its predecessor. Until now."
Taking the briefcase before him, Alucard clicked the latches and opened the lid, spinning the weapon around to reveal to the agents a shocking sight. The gun within the case was almost the length of the container itself; three magazines of massive-calibre bullets cat opposite it, highlighting its massive size. Like the aforementioned weapon, this one was a shiny obsidian black, with the phrase "Jesus Christ is in Heaven Now" on the side; however, this weapon had a polygonal shape, and as Alucard held it the size and shape became all the more evident.
"Gentlemen, I give you the Jackal MK-II. Designed primarily after the original Jackal, and with borrowed aspects of the IMI Desert Eagle, this weapon has a 60cm barrel and fires .700 Nitro Express bullets propelled by NNA-12X. These are especially dangerous; for though they are like the previous Jackal's rounds, they are sharpened, armour-piercing mercury-core bullets with a Nitrocellulose chaser. When these bullets decelerate, the shock causes them to explode, destroying their surroundings utterly. The 12-round magazine means this gun can wipe out a small battalion on a single set of rounds."
"Jesus Fucking Christ," the Scottish Agent, Connery swore as Alucard picked up and locked in a magazine, again locking the slide around it before placing it on the table. Immediately after that he took the extra 2 magazines and opened up his coat, revealing over 2-dozen other magazines and 2 empty holders, which he immediately placed these in before reclosing his suit. While Alucard placed the empty case on the floor, Connery added, "I need to get a gunsmith like this Walter fellow of yours. Here I am dicking around with a wee gun like mine, and you've got a bloody hand-held artillery piece."
"Actually, this weapon is only Walter's designs. Your friend Sophie is responsible for its construction and fine-tuning." Handing the weapon to Brosnan, he watched the youngest of the three agents look at the massive gun, easily the size of a sawed-off shotgun or larger, and examine its construction for a few second before simply handing back the weapon.
Hearing the sound of footsteps, Alucard and the agents turned to see the woman, her hair having shortened and returned to its original blonde colour. Immediately Alucard stated, "It's a good thing we didn't stow you in a coffin like we did for our trip to America, isn't it Police Girl? That would likely have ended embarrassingly for you." Shooting Alucard a death glare for his suggestion, she nonetheless walked straight to her seat beside him, where she stopped to see the silver Casull sitting in her place.
"You went to America with her in a coffin?" The only English agent, Moore, questioned. "I know vampires sleep during the day, but that's a bit much isn't it? I mean, what was so important about America that you had to be sent that way?"
"Walter, Seras and I were sent to Forks, Washington about 1 month ago to deal with an outbreak of FREAKs at the behest of the Governor. We were about 10 hours flying there and another 10 flying back; and even with half of the town's 2000 residents as Minute Vampires, it took us at best 2 hours to exterminate them. God, those cheap imitations of vampires irritate me."
"Master…" Seras suddenly stated, getting Alucard's attention as she held up the weapon. "Why exactly did you leave the Casull in my seat? I mean sure, the weapons need to go somewhere; I just don't understand why you need to put them where I'm sitting."
"You've done well lately, Seras Victoria," Alucard responded, seemingly in an unrelated way. "Your advancement from my apprentice to a senior field agent and my partner was exceptionally fast and well-done; and since I never officially gave you anything for you success, I decided it was time to make you truly my equal."
"Oh Master…" the woman responded, placing the gun down on the table and sitting next to Alucard. Once sitting, she threw her arms around the large, suave vampire and gave him a large hug, tears of happiness forming at the corners of her eyes as she expressed her gratitude. Not simply for the gift; but for the symbolism behind it, that her former Master truly considered her to be his equal.
With that, the sound of the engines roaring to life came up, and the plane ever-so-slightly started forwards, taxiing towards the end of the runway. "You mentioned… that these vampires were artificial," Brosnan recalled, resuming the conversation and regaining the attention of the two Hellsing Agents. You even called them 'Freaks'. What exactly is so – well , freaky – about them?"
"Freak isn't a term I use lightly; it's short for Fabricated Regenerative, Empathic and Artificial Kromwellian, and is named after the first recorded synthetic vampire, Johan Kromwell. These are vampires that have been created via artificial means, other than receiving true vampire blood. Last year's events involved vampires created via implanted chips, and the incident with Yon Kai involved experimental serums. Those in Forks were the result of Genetic crossings; the DNA of a vampire bat and a human bred a single half-breed FREAK, and it in turn created more of its kind."
"What can we expect… from this particular FREAK?" Brosnan asked, before Moore turned to him with a stern look that read to the man a message. The message that he was mistaken. "Wait… last night, you said this vampire was an undead. What's the difference between the two? Should techniques for defeating the undead not destroy FREAKs?"
"Yes and no," Seras interjected. "Though most things that will kill an undead will silence a FREAK, a select few are unaffected by Holy Artefacts; however, since they lack the full regenerative powers of an undead, explosive rounds will still do them in. Be warned though; a technique which will do in a FREAK may not stop an undead."
"Good thing to know," Connery concluded, he and his men each producing their own silver handguns from this suit pockets and loading in a single magazine each. "But… I'm pretty sure our particular bullets will be more than enough for any FREAKs we encounter."
The French Embassy was completely filled with people at their various stations. Some were filling out paperwork and being handed case folders; others were in conferences, or speaking with foreign governments on co-operative actions. Most of them looked official, and none of them looked half-hearted; the seriousness of the job had beaten that out of them long ago.
Once particular man, dressed in a navy dress suit and standing at the doorway with a case folder in one hand and a cigarette in the other, waiting for a particular arrival. Having been put in charge of such a crucial case would make or break not only his career, but this whole agency; if the French Government could not deal with a domestic issue, even with outsourced help, then the President would have no further use for him.
His wishes for somebody to arrive were very quickly answered by the opening of the doors, as Alucard, Seras and the three MI-6 agents stepped through the door. Alucard had again changed his appearance; he now wore a red detective's trench-coat, closed over his clothes, and a red fedora that cast shadows over his face while only his amber eyes shone through. Seras had maintained her normal appearance, and the three agents had all adorned sunglasses.
"Monsieur directeur, c'est un plaisir," Alucard interjected, his tendrils of white hair flicking about as he shook the hand of the man standing before him. "Je m'appelle Inspecteur Holmwood, avec le Bureau Fédéral d'Angleterre. Voici ma partenaire Inspecteur Harker," he indicated, pointing to Seras then, indicating the others he added, "et ils sont les agents de MI-6."
«Ah, oui monsieur," the man responded, looking at the group with a twinge of confusion. «Je m'appelle Directeur Sébastian LaSalle. Je travaillerai avec vous pour cet investigation. Qu'est-ce que vous savez déjà ? »
« Monsieur, si je peux, » Alucard responded, pointing to the man behind him. "Mes amis avec MI-6, leur français… n'est pas aussi excellent que nos… Peut-être nous pourrons continuer en anglais."
"Oui, certainement," the director commented, before turning to a woman standing at her own desk and yelling, "Simone, allez-y, cet instant!" Without so much as a chance to catch her breath the stunned woman, dressed in a black pantsuit, with blond hair and glasses, stood up from her work and moved over to her boss' side, standing at attention. When he resumed, she translated all of his words.
"The events which have required you to intervene in this case are most terrifying," she reiterated, making Alucard guess either the Director knew little English or he was worried his accent would mar translation. "In the past week alone, the deaths of 20 civilians have occurred, and close to 200 over the previous three months. The deaths are all the same; victims completely drained of blood, posed inside satanic sigils and left on display."
"We will need to arrange to see the crime scene of at least one of the victims, as well as the case folders, within the next two days," Alucard informed the Director, the woman Simone this time translating his words into English. "Unless we have seen the details first-hand, we will not be able to create a true profile of the killer."
"I was not aware that Hellsing mercenaries did profiling," the Director responded incredulously through his translator. "If I had known that was all you'd do, I'd have called in the FBI. Why exactly do trained killers and British nationals need to know these things?"
"Is it not obvious?" Seras spoke next, her own tone of voice having grown impatient at such an ignorant remark from the Director. "We need to verify the motivation of the individual, as well as the species. The criminal could be an Undead Vampire, a Synthetic Vampire or 'FREAK', a human, a demon, or something else entirely."
"My partner Detective Harker speaks true," Alucard added. "About three months ago we were sent to dispatch what we thought were the works of a Vampire terrorist organization. Instead we discovered them to be a Taliban cell, using vampires as weapons against England. The type of creature we're dealing with is vital to know; for it determines our course of action, and more importantly its. If we assume the enemy is human and they are Nosferatu, then we mistake their actions and more people die. Do you understand?"
After taking a second to consider what he had just been told, Director LaSalle simply stared blankly back at the two agents and their back-up, hardly believing what he had been told. After that, his face returned to an expressional pose and he shrugged it off. "Yes, of course; how silly of me," the translator said for him. However, before he could say any more, a sound came over the radio upstairs and it got turned up, allowing everyone on the floor below to hear over the open floor.
Though the broadcast was in French, Alucard and Seras heard the words and knew their meaning. Once they heard them in their entirety, the Director turned back around and yelled something to the agents upstairs, who by extension reached into their desks and produced service weapons. Alucard then stated, "It's been a pleasure, Director; but I don't need to tell you that we have somewhere to be."
Once he received a nod from the man, he and Seras turned and started back out the doors, followed by the now-confused agents. Once outside Alucard's trench coat opened and revealed his usual charcoal suit, cravat and boots; and his hair turned back to normal, along with his glasses. "Forgive me Alucard, but my French is a bit rusty," Connery implored. "Exactly why did we just leave."
"Louis-XIV Maximum Security Penitentiary on the outskirts of rural Paris," Alucard told him, pulling out his two black weapons and loading magazines into them. "The place is overrun with ghouls and vampires; perhaps the entire inmate population is afflicted." These words left a look of true shock on the faces of the agents; but Alucard simply smiled sadistically, along with Seras. "Prepare for a trial by fire, boys…"
The five Hellsing and MI-6 agents managed to arrive at the gates of the prison in less than an hour, though they knew there was not much time to waste. The building they had arrived at was a fortress, modeled after Versailles and armoured as such; but even it would only hold an outbreak for so long, and humans would be powerless to stop a legion that size. They had to act fast for if mere humans arrived and rushed in before the hordes were gone, the infection would spread.
Reaching the iron-clad door, Alucard looked up the building and its 30-foot stone walls. Drawing his weapons, he jumped and his feet caught traction on the stone. Quickly he ran up to the top of the walls, and stopped at the top while he waited for the others. Under the bright day's sun they could not rely on the stealth of the night; so he knew that the best plan of attack was a blitz, using speed and sheer power to remove the enemy before their cover was blown.
Looking down, the man watched intently as his apprentice vampires stepped up to the wall. She held on her shoulders her Harkonnen cannon – an artillery pieces posing as a rifle – as well as a second cannon, the Harkonnen II, a belt-fed, semi-automatic 30mm cannon in direct contrast to her previous single-shot, slide-loaded cannon. Her usual arms of holy silver, plus her master's gist, joined these guns over her blue Hellsing uniform and she jumped upwards, taking three jumps after that to reach the same height as Alucard did. "Good time, Seras," he complemented, cocking his two guns as the guns on his back shook.
"Thank you," she responded before looking back down, though I doubt MI-6 agents, even true undead, have as much practice at this as we do." Watching the men below, she saw the three black suit-clad men pull out two large-calibre pistols each, in addition to the machine guns slung over their shoulders. Though not as fast as the first two, they made an impressive time in jumping onto the wall and running upwards to join the two undead, who now looked down at the inside.
It was an utter scene of chaos. Ghouls stormed around the courtyards, clawing at the stone walls and moaning loudly. There seemed to be hundreds of them here; but given the prison's population of 5000, that didn't seem surprising. Up in the high tower of the prison, the five agents could make out the guards and warden, having barricaded the door against their attackers. Clearly the attack had been by surprise, and was not their action. They had to be saved.
"In the name of the Lord, impure souls of the living dead shall be banished into eternal damnation. Amen," Seras stated, pointing her Harkonnen 2 down at the base of the wall and firing several rounds of the oversized, silver-jacketed ammunition. At the bottom the ghouls exploded in clouds of blood, eventually forming a mist of blood and sand. Turning to the MI-6 agents she added, "We'll go through the prison and deal with this. You three keep the ghouls from escaping and the French from getting in."
Standing at attention and saluting, the MI-6 agents showed their readiness to follow the order. Making time, the 5 jumped down from their wall into the courtyard of the prison, firing their weapons and making pinpoint kills all the way down. As soon as his feet hit the ground, Alucard shot off a round from his Jackal MK-II, which passed through the head of a ghoul and left a hole where its face had been. This repeated through 4 more ghouls, until the last of the five where the round exploded and flung bloody sand everywhere.
"Let's get moving Seras," Alucard told his Draculina, starting off at a furious pace towards the inner doors of the prison. As he ran he held his two Jackals to either side of him, firing as he went and exploding ghouls into mist on his left and right. As she ran, Seras loaded a shell into her Harkonnen and shot it at the door, exploding it and allowing her and Alucard to run inside without stopping.
Once inside, the true carnage made itself known. All 4 floors of the building were swarming with ghouls, as well as a handful of vampires stopping to prey on whatever was left of the human inmates. Almost no signs of life remained; the masses of ghouls had been released as humans from their cells, corrupted and then allowed to continue. "Are these the manners you show to international guests?" Alucard questioned musingly, yelling up to the higher floors and getting a stir. "Really, I expected you'd at least open the door for us."
Looking at the man angrily, the masses of ghouls on the upper floors growled down at him, mimicking the anger of their master vampires. Sneering at this, Alucard simply jumped up into the air, landing on the open end of the 4th floor and glaring at the creatures amusedly. "Tell me, you maggot instant vampires," he issued. "Who created you? Who dares to foul our race by producing cheap copies of perfect beings?"
Instead of answering, the vampires lunged at Alucard, snarling as they landed in front of him. About 12 of them stood there, eying the red-clad man hungrily as they longed to consume his blood. Their ambitions lasted no more than ten seconds, for Alucard then swung his right arm in an arc in front of himself while he fired his Jackal MK-II. As the bullet moved through the air, it struck the nearby wall and changed direction, going straight through the heads of all 5 vampires until it exploded into the 5th's head.
"How utterly pathetic," he sneered, putting his arms back down while he gazed at the creatures before him through glowing red eyes and placed his guns in his side pockets. "The French are supposed to be the best lovers on the planet; and yet you all won't give me the love for a decent fight. No matter; I'll just have to exterminate you all like the filth you are, were, and always will be."
"You thing you're a fucking big shot, huh?" One of the other figures down the hall piped up with, stepping forward from the shadows. In either hand he held a machine gun with a 100-round ammunition drum, both of which he promptly opened fire on Alucard with. Hundreds of rounds shot from the gun in such a small span of time, exploding through Alucard's tissue and sending blood splattering against the walls; but with every hit, Alucard's body dissolved more and more into a black mass.
"You're nothing but a one-trick fucking wannabe," the armed vampire issued at Alucard, continuing his assault until the massive ammunition drums fell from the funs and left Alucard free-standing. Pieces of his limbs had fallen to the floor, his face shredded and his torso blasted almost cleanly through. As a result, the vampire simply stood there, a mass of bloody pulp standing in a pool of itself.
Then, much to the surprise of the vampire's surprise, Alucard's bloody form began to giggle and chuckle darkly, while the glowing red of the slit-pupil eyes were illuminated through the mess of his bloodied hair; and to the shock of the vampire, his blood simply turned black and leeched into the shadows, while Alucard's body simply began to slowly heal itself and turn even darker. "What… what the hell are you?" the vampire asked in terror, dropping his rounds as the laughing stopped and the glowing eyes fell squarely upon him.
Holding up his hands, Alucard moved his thumbs and index fingers into a rectangle around his right eye, closing the left as the sigils on his gloves lit up and his body, save for his coat, started to fade into shadows. "Releasing Control Art Restriction System to Level 2. Situation A. Approval of the Cromwell Initiative is Acknowledged. Maintaining Control Release and unlocking powers for limit use until the targets have been rendered silent."
"What the fuck are you…?" The vampire started to ask again, before seeing that Alucard's body had completely changed into a mass of shadows, upon which masses of red, glowing eyes were now opening one by one. As his coat flapped, the eyes and shadows spread onto the surrounding walls from the shadows of his body, forming eyes along the entire corridor; and as they appeared, the shadows transformed into a writhing, moving mass of black, clicking centipedes, filled with glowing red eyes and edged with a frame of blue flames.
Then, in a terrifying instant, the vampire heard the sounds of breaking bones, splattering blood and pained moans from behind him, and he turned to see what had happened. To his horror, the mass of writhing bugs and eyes had been cast all the way down the darkened hallway; and from it, several arms identical to Alucard's had emerged from the masses, impaling dozens of ghouls and a pair of vampires with their open hands. Turning back to face Alucard, the vampire asked, "you… what the fuck are you…?"
From within the mass of eyes and centipedes that had once been Alucard, the laugh began to emanate again; but this time, it was as the coat and arms of Alucard fell to the floor limply, joined by Alucard's severed head with its Cheshire cat grin on its face as they both began to sink into the mass below them. The deep voice of Alucard continued to laugh at the vampire as the mass of its old body twisted and writhed; and from the mass, six creatures which resembled gigantic, many-eyed wolves made of shadow stepped out, all growling and salivating.
"No… no, please! Spare me! PLEASE!" But the screams were to no avail; one of the wolves immediately jumped upon the vampire, closing his upper body in its jaws and biting down. The foul, thick blood of the creature splattered onto the shadowed walls, where it was absorbed into the shadows just as Alucard's remains had been. Once finished with him, the wolf and its five counterparts stared down the hall as well, opening their mouths to reveal a pair of glowing red eyes within each. They eventually ran out of sight into almost total blackness, leaving the sound of carnage in their wake.
The mass of black, flame-like shadow eventually came back together, solidifying into a more human-looking state. Alucard's face, now below a large and untamed mass of black hair, was all the remained of his old look; his clothes had changed to a dark grey, latex-looking suit that covered him from his neck to his shoes, save for his gloves whose sigils now glowed crimson. The insane look on his face was joined by a massive, red eye that appeared on his chest; and then the buttons of the straps on his torso and shoulders opened into smaller eyes as well, giving him the appearance of a true abomination.
"And still more and more of this weak, pathetic trash that dares to call itself Nosferatu comes before me, disgracing my species and wasting my time," Alucard's voice said, in a voice that mixed anger with elation and matched his face of insanity. As he started forwards at a slow, walking pace, the masses of living shadow moved with him; and as he did, he could taste, smell, and feel the bloodshed that was unfolding around him. "The only solace I can take, I suppose, is that I will never run out of food…"
With that, Alucard's body slowly reverted to its shadowy state, piece by piece, and the shadows transformed into a horde of bats that flew through the hallways. In the absence of his body the masses of living shadow returned to their inert state; and within the cells along the walls that the shadows had covered, the gnawed, bloodied skeletons of those ghouls and vampires still in their cages came into view, having been stripped of their flesh…
On the bottom floor, Seras had repositioned her original Harkonnen onto her ammunition backpack, in favour of holding onto her Harkonnen II with both hands for added accuracy. As with its predecessor, this weapon's shells tore through the enemy with almost no effort, splattering the walls in a mess of bloody sand while the bodies simply dissolved away. With each cluster of creatures she destroyed, she could move to a new section of hallway to cleanse it; and so, as she and her master had intended, the mission was moving quite quickly.
However, Seras discovered that there was a drawback to her new weapon. Aside from the much greater weight and kickback than her original weapon, forcing her to use more energy in keeping the weapon straight, its rapid-fire performance meant she used more ammunition than required. In killing 500 ghouls, she'd use 50 of the 100 rounds in her first ammunition belt; impressive as that was, it meant that with both belts she could only kill 2000 of the 5000 creatures this way. Seeing this, she flipped the setting on the weapon from semi-automatic to single-action, in the hopes of conserving shells.
Turning the next corner, she found another cluster of ghouls about 15 metres away chewing on the corpse of an inmate, having already stripped away much of its flesh. Firing a pair of shots from the cannon, she exploded the body into a huge fireball, sending the ghouls flying back into the walls where they burst into flames and dissolved. Out from behind the flames a vampire jumped into view, its red eyes fixed on her; but as it approached she smiled confidently.
Leaping into the air, the creature made a dive for her neck, trying to drink the blood of the Draculina. "Smart little bastard," Seras had time to think of the creature. "It must know the power it can gain from drinking the blood of a true undead. Still…" Before the creature could land, Seras shoved the barrel of the Harkonnen II into its mouth before launching one of the massive shells into its open jaws. The creature's head exploded everywhere, raining bloody meat everywhere and letting the body land on the ground before dissolving.
From ahead of her, Seras' attention turned to the sound of a gun firing, and she knew she needed to act. She immediately used her sharp reflexes and shifted to her right, letting a cluster of bullets go straight past her. Using these same skills, she shot forwards at least 30 metres straight in front of a trio of armed vampires, clubbing them all in the mead with her massive cannon. "I'm starting to see why Alucard hates you so much…" she mused jumping backwards and safely firing a shot to blast them into oblivion.
"…because you're all nothing but instant maggots."
Standing outside on the grounds of the prison, the three MI-6 agents knew they had their work cut out for them, now more than ever. Alucard's assaults had forced several ghouls and vampires to take their chances and dive out through the windows of the upper floors; and as more from the lower floors pilled outside as well, the three Undead Agents were the only ones standing against an entire horde of over 500 creatures attempting to escape.
"I don't know how long those two expect this to take," Connery muttered as his magazines fell from his guns, landing on the ground. Reaching for his pockets he took one with each hand's loose fingers and threw them into the air; then, as they fell, he shoved the guns against them and clicked them into place, before unloading all 12 bullets from each magazine into the heads of 24 ghouls in quick succession. "But they'd better hurry if they expect us to hold this for much longer."
"Still a grouchy old bear I see, boss," Brosnan responded dryly and with a hint of amusement while he tossed his guns up in the air, producing two magazines on the palms of his hands and letting the guns simply fall onto them. As he spoke, he tossed up each gun and grabbed it with the opposite hand, shooting 12 ghouls on either side of him, just as quickly as his leader, with his arms still crossed. "Relax; those two are Hellsing's finest. They'll kill the lot of them, no sweat."
"Maybe," Moore said somewhat pessimistically as he telekinetically shot a new magazine into both of his guns, taking aim straight down the middle and taking out 5 vampires and 19 ghouls. "But from what I've heard of Alucard, he has no sense of occasion; he'll spend too much time playing with his food before killing it, and that'll be that."
"Good God, you're more cynical than Orelock is," Brosnan chided, also using his telekinesis to reload and go for 24 vampires in a couple seconds. "Even so, Miss Victoria is as straight-laced as they come; I don't see her wasting any time on…"
Brosnan's rant was cut short by the sounds of many loud, pained and terrified screams ringing out from the upper floors of the prison, followed by the sounds of flesh tearing and bones snapping. The noises were so profound that several ghouls and even the two remaining vampires outside stopped and listened; and even the MI-6 agents knew the dreadful noises meant only one thing. "Nice going, Alucard," Connery proceeded to thing. "Just don't go out-of-control on us…"
Along the upper floors of the prison, masses of Alucard's body moved in all directions, cleansing everything that they came across. The wolves had made their way to the third floor, killing and devouring everything they came across while the animated shadows of centipedes absorbed the blood. On the fourth floor, the huge cluster of bats flew with breakneck speed, re-condensing into an equally fast-running Alucard as they came by a ghoul or vampire, and letting the creature use his guns to slaughter and his living shadow to absorb them before breaking back apart into the bat swarm and moving on.
"This is so much more fun than the previous assignments…" Alucard mused, actually enjoying this far more than he thought he would. "So much bloodshed, violence and flesh-ripping action, and the rush of it all… I haven't had a mission so thrilling in months! If this is simply what my new foe can offer me as a warm-up, I look forward to truly doing battle with them…"
As he rounded the corner of the hallway, he saw the deck ended and the third floor below him came into view. Having swept the entire fourth floor and swallowed everything in his path, the bats simply descended to the next floor down, settling as they flapped in mid-air and finally solidifying back into his Level 2 form. Eying the end of the hallway hungrily, he walked forwards while he watched one of his wolf-demons devouring the body of a ghoul, snapping the bones to devour every shred of flesh.
When the wolf heard its master's approach, the creature released what was left of the ghoul, turning and walking back towards Alucard. The vampire stopped and knelt down to pet his Familiar, which in turn dissolved back into the flame-like aura of writhing shadow and melted back into his body. "Such a feast I have not been treated to in Centuries," he thought aloud, the many eyes on his outfit looking through the shadows for any further targets.
Instead, he saw and heard the approaching energy signature of Seras, running down the halls of the second floor in her frantic rush to destroy all the creatures. Chuckling under his breath, Alucard reached into his body and pulled out the machine gun he had taken from Yon Kai the day before and started down the next hallway, stopping when the next level down came into view from the surveillance balcony.
"Seras," Alucard issued to his partner through their telepathic link. "I have a way for you to take out the last of the floor; but you need to hurry. Take the gun gave you and shoot." As the message got to her, Alucard tossed the machine gun up in the air gingerly, where it started to fall down to the next level. A shot rang out and one of the Casull's explosive rounds struck the magazine of the machine gun, detonating it and sending a flurry of silver bullets in all directions.
Phasing down through the floor, Alucard found himself standing in a pool of blood, crimson sand, strewn body parts, and shell casings both from his weapon and Seras'. The Draculina stood only a few feet away from him, having put her cannons against a wall and the Casull back at her waste. "Good job, Police Gi…" Before he could finish his words, however, Alucard doubled over as he vomited a huge mass of thick, bloody ooze at his feet, covering the edges of his mouth in red.
"Master, are you alright?" Seras asked nervously as her former master stood up again looking at her while he licked the blood from his lips. Looking at Seras confidently, Alucard simply absorbed the blood back into the shadowy masses of his body, then took a couple steps closer.
"Of course, my dear," he responded, showing no concern for what had just happened. "I simply overindulged and got myself too excited; nothing more to it than that." As his words finished, though, Alucard felt a sharp, piercing pain go through his chest; and as he looked down, he saw that a silver bayonet stuck through his upper torso, right in the centre of the eye on his chest. Grinning darkly, Alucard turned to the shadows behind him and said in utter amusement,
"I was wondering how long I'd be waiting to see you, Judas Priest…" With that, the seven-foot form of the dark-skinned, blond-haired, scarred and long coat-clad form of Alexander Anderson stepped out from the shadows, holding two more of his bayonets into a cross shape in front of his face while his glasses reflected some light and shone pure white. "Forgive my casual attire; had I known I'd run into you here, I would have worn something a bit more fitting."
"Your dress makes little difference to be, you filthy black magic heathen bastard," the Scottish voice of the priest issued as he set his arms to his side, revealing the same sadistic grin as Alucard on his face; and tilted his head, revealing his green eyes as he did. "And once I'm done with you, I doubt Satan will much care how you dress in Hell, either."
Hearing these words, Alucard's eyes opened as wide as they would go while his hair flapped around, giving his insane grin a whole new dimension of craziness. "Bring it…"
Sitting in the dark, secluded corner of his office, Orelock remained motionless, almost inert, with his hands interlocked and his head resting between the two. Raising his head from between them, he moved his right hand towards the computer on his desk and pressed a series of keys, causing a window to open up. At first it displayed nothing but snow, distorted and meaningless; but the image quickly clarified, and a shadow-covered human face appeared on the other end, set amidst a black background.
"The Hellsing vampires have been deployed to Paris, just as you expected," the Director informed the man on the other end of the screen, getting no reply but knowing full-well the man was pleased by this news. "They left via private aircraft this morning and have most likely been in Paris for at least an hour now."
"Then our little game of chess is finally starting to move at a proper pace again," the man on the other end of the screen issued, moving his hand forwards. Grabbing an object, he then held it up to the screen, where it was revealed as a Bishop chess piece; and then he placed it back down before him, in a different spot then where he'd had it. "Bishop to E6. Check."
Looking down at his own desk, Orelock grabbed the matching black Bishop and moved it to the named position, lining it up with his own white King. Staring long and hard at the pieces for a second, he considered what had just been done, before picking up his own piece and moving. "Knight to E6." Both men then grabbed the enemy Knights for their boards, removing the Bishop from the square and placing the knight there instead.
"I'll not be played for a fool you know," Orelock assured the other man, who folded his hands in front of him while he listened. "To you, I'd bet I'm nothing more than a single sprocket in the machinery that is your plan. This goal you've set is bigger than me, or my power; but whether you know it or not, it's bigger than you as well."
"Duly noted," the other man responded, seemingly completely uninterested in what he had just been told. "Except that you know full well that the strings on this burlesque rest solely in my hands. Not Integra Hellsing's, not yours, not your Prime Minister's, and not the French Prime Minister's. They rest solely in mine."
"Exactly how long do you think you can keep the Hellsing Organization in the dark for? Integra Hellsing is not a woman to whom a bill of goods can be sold. Eventually, they will learn of your existence and your little 'burlesque,' as you call it, will come to an abrupt and premature end. Me, I have no reason to hide you; you're just a foreign national, and I am the head of a top British Agency. Whose side do you think my people will take?"
"If Miss Hellsing learns of me in time, then so be it," the man responded, completely uncaring of Orelock's words yet again. "For now, she is oblivious to me; and if you have any ridiculous ideas of revealing me to her, James Lester, than I highly recommend refraining from that altogether."
"You listen to me, you ruddy American git," Lester threatened, banging his fist against his desk hard enough to slice his hand open on the edge. While blood poured down his hand, he glared back at the indifferent man on the other end of the line and added, "If you wish to make threats against a member of home office, I'll come down on your bloody head to hard you'll need a helmet to keep your brain off the walls."
"No, you listen to me," the man on the other end responded, his voice rising but his tone otherwise remaining normal. "I am the leader of the Department of Defence, an agency from the most powerful country on this planet. If you wish to make idle threats against me, then allow me to show you what the United States Military is capable of. Or perhaps, if your intelligence is as good as you claim, you've already seen my handiwork."
"You mean your little stunt in Pyong-Yang," Orelock interpreted. "How could I not hear about that? A Federal North Korean research centre destroyed, twelve scientists blown to pieces. What hollow and two-faced pricks you Americans are; using a former enemy nation's resources to further your own agenda; and then destroying the evidence after one failure."
"If I wish to surpass Hellsing's trump card," the man stated philosophically, "then there is no room for failure. So far, my specimens can't even surpass a Fledgling vampire of less than two years, even if she is Alucard's Draculina. No; I need a weapon that can surpass even Alucard himself; and I will not stop until I attain that goal."
"Vance, you're a ruddy fool," Orelock challenged incredulously. "Surpass Alucard? For Christ's sakes, even a true undead like Incognito, imbued with the power of an Ancient God, could not surpass Alucard. The creature is not just some vampire, you know; he is the vampire. And why are you so obsessed with besting a creature which poses no threat to you?"
"National pride," Vance rationalized. "The founding fathers wanted for the United States of America to become the most powerful nation on this planet, a forerunner and the standard for the people of this world over the rest of existence. The Old World Empires like Great Britain have had their day; I cannot stand idly by and allow an outdated joke like England have a weapon greater than us."
"That makes no bloody sense at all. You're willing to jeopardize world political relations and risk starting a war just to win a pissing contest nobody challenged you to? Must I play your conscience forever, Vance? So far I've kept quiet about your insane project because it caused no harm. Please, I beseech you as a partner in arms and a friend, don't force me to bring this matter to the UN's attention."
"Do you truly feel this strongly about a matter which has yet to concern you?" Vance questioned strongly, getting an even sterner glare as a reply. Eventually, the American diplomat sighed and said, "Very well, I'll split the difference with you; I will continue research into and testing of the project within the United States only, and I'll allow Canadian personnel to oversee all activity. Does that sound fair?"
Thinking long and hard about the idea, Orelock looked off into space thoughtfully before looking back and replying, "Very well. I see no reason why you cannot continue the project on your own soil, nor have I the authority to stop you. But know this; if one of your little thugs so much as steps onto foreign soil with this project, I'll bring the United Nations down on you in that instant."
"Understood," Vance responded, looking much more relieved to no longer being in such tension with a British official. "If it makes you feel any better, I have no intention of starting a war with the Commonwealth or the European Union; we've had enough of fighting with our allies. No; we must save our energy for the common enemy."
"I can agree with that," Orelock stated, reaching for his phone. "I'll call up a friend of mine at CSIS and pass on the message." Signing off, Orelock turned off the webcam and ended the communication with the American office, before punching a number into the phone. After less than five seconds of ringing, a voice picked up on the other end.
"Yes, it's Director James Lester at MI-6 in London. I need to speak to Director Helen Cutter regarding a matter of foreign security." After putting in the request, he waited for a few more seconds before a woman picked up on the other end of the line. "Yes, Helen, it's me… Well, I'm not doping to badly, how about you…Good."
After hearing the woman asked the all-important question, Orelock said to her, "Well, I've lust spoken to Director Gideon Vance of the United States Department of Defence . He's currently undertaking a project in Quantico, Virginia, and he has agreed at my insistence to having foreign supervision. Because Canada is closely allied to both England and the United States, I need you to assign two of your top agents to security detail… Um, effective immediately… Yes, that will be excellent, thank you… Yes, it's good talking to you as well… Yes, good day."
Putting down the phone, Orelock rested his head back in his hands and thought to himself, "Now Vance, we'll see if your insanity can be cured, or at least kept in check…"