"He who makes a beast out of himself, loses the pain of being a man."
"It's not that I don't believe it, this kind of things are likely to happen but just so we are clear, did we both dream of the same man?" Michael asked Seras in a mix between curiosity and surprise as he walked into his room to retrieve some stuff.
"So it seems. What were the chances?"
"Unthinkable." Michael then began thinking of the alternative to it being a mere coincidence. "Think this Drake guy has been messing with our minds? Long range telepathy maybe?"
"My master taught me that it is possible so it wouldn't surprise me but it sure as hell would upset me." Seras then wondered what purpose did the images serve. "Fuck it, I bet he just wants us to lose our cool now that we're closing on to him."
"Maybe. I suppose he wants some reaction from us. And soon he will have just that." Michael assured her as he picked up his stuff for the mission. His bag had all they needed and even more.
"Are you packing too?"
"Oh, you'll see." Seras said with a smirk, then she walked off, leading Michael to where she kept her stock.
On the basement there was a weapon's vault that she held dear, guarded by two agents. She signaled for them to move up and open since they knew the drill. When the gate was open, Michael had his eyes wide in amusement as he looked at the police girl's arsenal. Now that felt like christmas. Carabines, grenades, RPG's, assault rifles and such but what really mattered to Seras were the big guns. Large cannons that no one would have expected a girl of her size to carry, they were bigger than herself and looked heavy too.
Michael then whistled and clapped slowly in approval. As he did, Seras reached for her basic kit right in front of him. Some explosives like C-4 and Semtex for emergencies and demolition, a fierce looking combat knife for Close Quarter Combat (CQC), a couple of pistols that would reduce any skull to mush and then her prized thing, a large rifle with anti-aircraft rounds and a solid mechanism that she greased herself.
"What? Feeling aroused?" Seras joked with a grin looking at Michael, her rifle held with extreme expertize.
"Yeah, probably." He replied with a smug look. "A little overkill, don't you think?"
"Overkills are underrated. It might stand out too. You've got your tools and I've got mine." Seras pointed out and Michael smirked at that.
"They would be crazy to not notice it but they would be even crazier to try and do something about it. Alright, I guess we're packed now." He settled now ready for the job. He and Seras would then study the address and go for it at the right time of the day.
After spending most of the day getting ready for their mission and walking around, the right hour came, giving them cue in to make their trip. They travelled easily and in time with Michael on the wheel and Seras to his left talking to him to ease some of the tension. Their vehicle was a simple limousine that was surprisingly fast, courtesy of Hellsing. Michael had asked for a good ride and Seras agreed. It was bulletproof and had some weapons packed secretly. Would be a bitch if a cop made them pull over but they could always try and mind wipe the fool if that were to happen.
"You really know how to drive, huh?" Seras told him considering the relatively short time it was taking them to get to their destination.
"I used to be a cab driver. Some crap you just don't forget." He replied without taking his eyes off the road.
After a while they made it to the low hood in a barren street in which their target was supposed to be hidden. As they did, night fell on them prompting Michael to shift into his darker form. Now there was Shadowman. He kept on driving while Seras raised her eyebrows and whistled in amusement.
"Nice look." She complimented him.
"Thanks, I guess. This doesn't make you uneasy, does it?" He asked out of courtesy.
"Nah, it's cool, I've seen worse. Though I think the crooked fangs waiting for us might actually piss themselves." Shadowman actually chuckled at her response.
"Yeah, they would be wise to."
When the grimmly bar was found, they both exited their vehicle excitedly. They stared at the building for a moment, it wasn't all too big but it should be enough for it's designated purpose: hiding scum and heathens off all kinds and putting them to make weapons and procreate. This didn't engross the two though, they were used to it all.
"So do you want to go in guns blazing and shredding them all or do you have something better in mind?" Shadowman asked as he pulled his dual action shadow guns. Seras just mused with a hand on her chin.
"Let's see." Then having looked around for a moment she spotted a vehicle that she assumed belonged to an owner, parked in the alley. It looked expensive. Good. Now she had an idea.
A few minutes later, there were hard and continuous knocks on the door at the back. This kept going for a while and loud until someone finally took a peek through the whole.
Outside stood Seras with a grinning expression and sitting on the the windshield of a totaled car. She also Michael's sunglasses on for effect.
"Is this junk thing yours?" She asked in a joking manner.
The man at the door came out violently, opening in a very angry manner. He was a moderately big caucasian man with a bald head and strong build. He had a shirt with a confederate flag stamped on and a vest on top of it. He had a six-shooter at hand and also noticeable fangs and red eyes, making it obvious that he was a vampire.
"What did you do, smash it with a truck?" The man asked out of shock and anger.
"Actually, twice." Seras admitted happily and then a quick gunshot went through the man's head, silencing him cold. Seras felt good to do that. Shadowman then came from behind the trash cans.
"Good work. Now let's roll in before someone misses the bastard." He said while walking into the entrance.
"Pfff, like somebody would." She said as she followed. They went through the door and looked into a very poorly illuminated corridor. Knowing the place was about to get clouded by guards, Shadowman raised his guns and aimed for the few light bulbs up there.
"How good are you in the dark?" Shadowman asked in advance.
"Like a bloody bat." Seras replied firmly and with confidence.
"Neat." Then the lightbulbs were shot off, leaving them in a tactical advantage as the designated henchmen of the place went in to inspect. They were soon greeted with kicks and punches that left them splattered all over the place.
Shadowman just chuckled at his work while Seras licked the blood off her fingers eagerly. A lot of blood had been splashed over her uniform and hair but that she didn't mind, things were looking up for her.
"Enjoying the walk, aren't you?" Shadowman joked as he and Seras headed for the next door.
"Like you wouldn't believe." She said before kicking down the door and raising her rifle at any possible threat. What they found was apparently the kitchen.
They saw a crew of vampires holding knives and cleavers. Now a lot of the ones who stood there seemed frozen for a moment, looking at Seras and Shadowman covered in blood. They guessed right, some of them would actually piss themselves when looking at Shadowman. In reaction they began throwing their knives at the two, only for Shadowman to blast them to pieces in mid-air until they ran out.
"How silly, the men attacked us with knives." Seras remarked faking an amused tone before executing all the cooks in a quick succession of headshots that turned their brains to mush and bits. Shadowman smiled at this, then another cook came from the fridge empty handed. He tried to run away only to be met with a fist to the gut from Shadowman, who then picked him by the neck and pinned him against a wall hard enough to crack it.
"If you do as much as a scream, I'll really give you something to scream about." Shadowman warned as he shoved an index finger through the vampire's shoulder, the grip on his neck stopping him from talking. "Seras, do me a favor and grab one of them propane tanks there, make the guys outside a present, would ya, darling?"
Seras then caught a cigarrette thrown at her by Shadowman, then she turned to the propane tanks used to cook.
"Now we're talking." She said with a grin.
A few guys outside in the bar were hearing the ruckus in the kitchen, the conmotion travelled fast. Instead of charging into their deaths they just waited outside with their guns out, planning to ambush those messing with them and trying to trash the place.
The bar was a front or cover for some deep and nasty operations going in the vampire underground. Drake had paid them a good sum to make tunnels and traffic weapons and beasts through them. A lot of local vampires stayed there too in order to avoid detection. They stayed under Hellsing's radar but that was over now.
"The moment those pricks come out I want all your bullets going through their skulls, alright?" Everyone nodded at their boss. They were used to preying on the weak but their current prospect was grim.
They did not know who came for them but they could picture it being Hellsing's hounds. Now they did know Alucard was long gone, that was certain but some of them actually feared he would return one day to rip them to shreds. Little did they know there were scarier things to worry about at the time.
The footsteps were heard in the silent atmosphere, all activity had ceased in the bar to focus on the uninvited guests. They gripped their MP5's and Uzi's carefully to pump them full of lead when they showed their faces. Alongside the footsteps came the cheerful voice of a young woman who was just having a good time. She seemed to be telling a joke to her companion.
"So the crazy chick walks into the bar and yells: Free shots for everyone!" Said the voice and as in unison a propane tank with a cigarrette attached was violently thrown through a wall, breaking it apart and falling right next to the gunmen.
There was a loud explosion and most of the death squad rushed for cover but the blast still scorched and killed a good few of them, dispersing the rest.
There they saw their attackers and for that moment they felt like the people who danced at the ball in that one Poe novel, Masque of the Red Death, just as the titular Red Death pulled off it's mask and brought hell to them, only that their death was personified by an unholy duo that stood armed to the teeth.
Those that weren't engulfed by the explosion tried to fire their guns at them but they were lost already. Bullets from a rifle flew at them as well as shrieking souls fired by the Shadowgun, tearing through bone and flesh like wet paper. Many kept shooting but their rounds bounced harmlessly off a shield that Shadowman had drawn, called the Enseigne. Seras and Shadowman killed twenty-one vampires or so with their combined fire and they were aiming for more.
In the heat of battle, Seras ran out of ammo, prompting her to do things with her bare hands. She went forwards while Michael provided cover fire, dashing between bullets until her fist collided against some punk's chest, caving it in and sending him flying right into nine more, knocking them off their feet. She happily pulled the pin of a grenade with her sharp teeth and tossed it down onto the closest shooters, hearing the loud boom.
Feeling the urge to get his hands dirty too, Shadowman went and ran head on against the remaining vamps, tackling them with enough force to break their limbs and heads apart.
Before they could think of rejoicing in their good work, another pale and bald thug came out of the restroom with his pants still down and a Magnum revolver in his hand. Must have heard the party outside, thought Michael.
"What the blazes?" Asked the sickly vampire. Seras was about to put a slug between his eyes when someone behind him beat her to the punch.
The vampire fell forward with a knife to the heart and a bullet to the back of his head. Behind him stood what looked like another vampire, somewhat skinny, shirtless and wearing sunglasses. He quickly threw his weapons to the ground and raised both of his hands in an act of surrender and peace, saving him from Michael and Seras' fire.
"Please don't. I mean, come on, I never even liked the ass wipes working here." The vampire spoke. Seras looked at him in amusement, sizing him up too.
"Well, ain't you the smartest little fella we have encountered in our long ass line of work?" Seras said while aiming at him, as did Shadowman, both casually and smiling.
"Do you have a name or do you want us to call you one?" Michael interrogated the vampire.
"I do. It's Cassidy, mate." He replied with a smirk.
"Cas, and do you mind me calling you that?" Seras asked with a smile, her weapon still in hand.
"Oh well, my friends call me that but at this time, you might as well be." Cassidy replied while trying to stay on their good side. "Mind me explaining some shit before we go further into this fancy chit chat?"
"Do us the favor, Cas. Enlighten us." Michael said walking a little between the rows of downed corpses Seras and him planted.
"Fire up." Seras encouraged him.
"It'll be my pleasure to. So where do I start? Yeah, suit yourselves up, it's gonna be a fun trip, actually." Cassidy explained as he sat down to proceed with this exchange.
Seras and Michael heard what they had to, Cassidy was a vampire, a very old one on that, had lots of story with other vampires, hunters and preachers, had lived over a hundred years to tear shit up, making him easily older than the two put together and had developed quite a lot of tastes and addictions over these years. He was kind of a junkie, a drunk and a fighter.
That day he had headed into that shit hole answering the call of his species, hoping to get some good laughs and drinks, only to end up feeling out of place between the grimm sick vampire folks that dwelled in England. He was glad they got slugged actually. He was too stoned to care for himself even. Now he had a deadman and a vampire chick interrogating him but he didn't mind at all. He just had to roll with it.
"What do you know about Drake? Does he come often or is he an owner?" Michael asked him, to which Cassidy shook a little due to the mention of that name.
"Drake?" Cassidy asked for good measure, clearly having heard but being a bit dazed.
"Aye." Seras assured him with a calm tone, a smile and a cock of the head.
"The guy is like a fucking ghost. No one I know knows him directly, those who know about him didn't think he was real until some days ago. The guy's like royalty when it comes to our kind." Cas answered further.
"This place was on his name when we checked. Know what he's hiding here?" Michael kept digging.
"We know there's more to this place than just a rectum hole for suckers. There's something more, ain't it?" Seras supplied, to which Cas smirked.
"Come over, I'll show you."
They did as told and headed into a hallway that Cassidy had inspected before.
"The punks here were too wasted to see me coming." And that was true, they were too strung up to notice him peeping and snooping all around. He opened the cover leading to the basement and went in, showing Michael and Seras around. "Just telling ya though, this is quite the dangerous place."
"Really? Give us the tour." Seras said with a smile and shrugging. They were in for a nice little walk.
[1950, London]
Matt Drake was way too many things for just one person. Patient and calm luckily just so happened to be two of them. He had enjoyed a nice sleep like no other while it lasted, to the point where he began to wish he would not wake up. But all that changed when that beautiful catharsis was taken away from him by the fucking nazi vampires who disturbed him and intentionally so.
He took a good enjoyable look at an ancient relic stuck and inmortalized on the walls of doctor Randolph. A broken blade, split in few pieces yet still deadlier than most weapons known to man. He had history with the weapon and it's wielder but that wasn't important or relevant whatsoever. Not at the time.
He took a deep breath and decided to finally drink from the cup of champagne he had been holding for so long while getting all nostalgic. It tasted good, being the first drink he had in a truly very long time.
"Here's to us, Sync." He muttered, thinking of the old fella he fought thousands of years ago, his respect and fondness for him never dying through all that time. "You never wasted any words. Your acts said it all."
Footsteps were heard as a friend approached him with good intentions. Randolph had been very kind to let him stay there for the time being. He had nowhere else to go. Well, that was wrong, he had everywhere to go but only in there he felt good to start his new life.
"Not that I don't appreciate your presence, in fact it's always a pleasure but I would really like to know what you have in mind. I have waited long for this and I would like to be of use." Randolph commented, bringing Drake to think of a good answer through for his friend.
Doctor Werner Randolph was a man of science, kind of polarizing Drake's more spiritual approach. They did however share many views and thoughts on the world, leading them to similar conclussions.
The world was a shit place.