Drowning in Darkness.
By: Lazeralk.
Standard disclaimers apply.
In the name of God, impure souls of the living dead shall be banished into eternal damnation. Amen.
Part 17
To my reviewers, I love you guys. This chapter is for you as it always is.
0o0o0
They'd passed six corpses so far. Six people just dead in the hallway. There was one girl who was still alive; her arm had been torn out at the shoulder and she was bleeding everywhere. Master finished her off, said it was the humane thing to do. The look on his face said he just wanted her blood.
Seras didn't know what was wrong with her; she was usually much more organized than this, much more focused. This place was unnerving her though; the evil in the air that was just this side of tolerable was beginning to grate on her. The walls were screaming, not loud, but just on the edge of her range of hearing.
Her master was nearly prancing down the halls, turning here and there like he'd lived here all his life. He even led them through a secret passage hidden in the wall once. He'd been here before, that much was obvious. Shadow just ghosted along beside him, never making a single sound. If it weren't for her own breathing, she'd think this corridor deserted.
They rounded a corner and found the blue haired vampire that Shadow had fought with waiting patiently.
"Greetings." He said.
"Mine." Said Shadow as she approached him. Arucard whined.
"That's not fair."
"Live with it." She snapped back.
"When ever you're ready Lady Shadow. I have only one request of you, if you are willing." He said, all perfectly polite, as if they weren't about to fight to the death.
"What?" asked the Shadow Walker.
"Make Lady Mauve's death a painful one." He said simply as he slipped his sword from its sheath and slid into a stance neither Seras nor Arucard recognized.
"Of course." Answered Shadow, as she too, took her stance.
His shoulders didn't exactly slump, but there was some small movement to him that at once conveyed his gratitude and a sense of peace, as if some weight had been lifted from his shoulders.
Shadow bowed her head and charged him, still completely silent. They met in a clash of metal, sparks flying from the blades. They moved faster than the eye could follow, dodging and striking, neither having a clear advantage. With his free hand, he traced an arc in the air, water gushing fourth from thin air to follow it. He aimed it at her face and the tiny trickle of liquid became a full-fledged flood as it slammed her into the floor.
He charged her while she was getting to her feet, blocked a side slash, then he arced his sword and caught one of her blades by the hilt and sent it skidding into the wall. She growled at him and her second blade ripped through his chest and sent him falling backwards.
He smiled at her, then dissolved into ash, his sword clattering on the floor sharply.
She stilled, sending her prayers up for her opponent, dripping water. He'd been good; he deserved a better death than that. She glanced at her remaining blade, and the word Hellsing etched into its surface. The metal had held.
Arucard yawned loudly, making a show of waking himself up and pushing himself bodily from the wall he'd been leaning against.
"Are you done yet?" he asked, looking at a watch hidden under his glove.
She opened a shadow gate under her blade and brought it back to her hand, then flipped him the bird.
He laughed and then bounced along the corridor, seeking their next challenge.
Shadow rolled her eyes.
0o0o0
"Meriquoi." Said Seron, his voice filled with agony as he felt his friend, his brother die. He covered his face with his hands and fought the urge to curl up into a little ball and cry. As soon as he thought of it, the tears began to pour down his face, tracing angry red lines across his alabaster skin.
0o0o0
-Mother. –
-Not now Allen, I'm in the middle of a mission. – Snapped Seras, her already frayed nerves making her agitated.
-Listen mother, you can't win without me. You remember the words don't you? –
-Allen! Not now! –
0o0o0
Arucard was absolutely spec-fucking-tacular. The joy that sang through his veins, carried through his body by fresh blood, was the one thing that had kept him sane and existing for the last two thousand years. God, he felt wonderful!
Blood! Death! A worthy challenge, what more could any true nosfaratu want?
He skipped merrily through the halls, remembering all the twists and turns as he worked his way towards the throne room, where his ultimate goal lay. He could feel it, the demon that was his to kill, waiting for him.
This was going to be so~o good! He thought giddily, resisting the urge to start singing. Not that he had a bad voice mind you, but there were certain images to maintain and he thought his child just might faint of shock were he to start singing. Well, maybe that would depend entirely on what he sang, as he said before, his voice wasn't bad. Tone though; was another matter all together.
0o0o0
Aramore clutched at his heart, his face twisting with pain. Meriquoi was dead, his Meriquoi, his best friend, his brother. The guy that took care of him when he was hurt, and made sure he had clean clothes, and let him sleep with him when he got lonely, was gone. His Meriquoi.
They were coming, he knew they were. His mistress had said to kill them, but he didn't really want to. They hadn't done anything to them. But they killed Meriquoi. They killed him. So now they had to die. He tried to feel the burning rage that such a death should accompany, but he didn't. He just felt…..hollow. He felt as if something vital had been ripped out of his body and he was paralyzed.
God, Meriquoi. If any of them had ended up dead, it should have been him. Seron was just too stubborn to die and Meriquoi was so cool, so collected. You'd never peg him for a weakling. He wasn't weak, he'd sparred with him often enough to get his ass handed to him on a plate. If they could beat Mear-ri they could beat him.
He rubbed at his chest and frowned thoughtfully. He didn't care. If Meriquoi went down, he didn't really care what happened now. They could kill him, whatever, as long as he got to see Meriquoi again. He really just didn't care.
0o0o0
Arucard rounded the corner and stopped dead (no pun intended). Leaning against the wall, was the white haired vamp that had tried to rip his child's arm off. He looked up at them, and his eyes were swimming with tears and sorrow and a deep pain.
"Meriquoi." He whispered.
Oh. A sap. Great.
Arucard sighed; this wasn't going to be any fun at all. This guy was sobbing over some dead vamp and wouldn't be a challenge. He pulled out his gun and took careful aim. His target abruptly vanished and reappeared not two feet in front of him, wielding a huge black scythe. The cursed metal bit through his arm and rather messily severed it at the elbow.
He winced when his gun hit the stone floor with an odd ping. He really hoped the barrel wasn't dented now. His arm wasn't important, he could always regenerate it. A wave of shock, then worry and finally disgust and annoyance came from his child. He always got the most interesting reactions from her.
The scythe caught him at mid chest, cleanly slicing through skin and bone. Ok, so maybe this guy wasn't a pushover. Shadow was scowling at him.
-It took you this long to figure that out? He had to cut you in half to be any challenge? – She asked in his mind. How did she know how to do that? Oh, yeah, she was 'highly psychic'. Big Bad Shadow Walker.
-I heard that. –
Arucard cackled gleefully as he dissolved into a mess of blood and thicker things then reformed himself, perfectly as usual, not even a bloodstain on his coat.
The white haired vamp lifted his hand and the air around the newly reformed nosfaratu smashed into him, squeezing his body from all sides. He flicked his fingers and the wind sliced into his skin, whirling around him until the pressure on his body fought to merge with the tornado, creating a suction effect strong enough to rip the no life king to pieces.
Arucard reformed himself yet again and scowled at his opponent. Aramore gave him hostile eyes. He lunged at him again, his face cold and blank, ready for true death. Arucard felt a moment's pity for him before shooting him in the head and the heart at the exact same time with both of his new Jackals.
Aramore closed his wine colored eyes and didn't open them again, his body falling backwards as it dissolved into ash. The black scythe dropped to the floor with a clang.
Two down.
They skirted around the pile and kept moving. Only the red head was left. Arucard's smile widened at the thought of the pyro. Fun.
0o0o0
Seron choked back his tears as yet another part of his soul was ripped away. Aramore was gone. No more suggestive comments, no teasing, no innuendo. No more curling up on his bed, just to sleep. He'd never had sex with him, he was quite straight thank you very much, but the comfort, the warmth, just knowing that he was accepted and even loved made all the difference. Aramore would have loved and accepted anyone. He was just like that. And now he was dead. Truly dead.
Gods, it hurt.
Both of them. Aramore and Meriquoi. Both gone. They would pay. Arucard would pay very dearly indeed.
0o0o0
-Mother. –
-Shut up Allen. –
-The words mother, the words! You must speak them now! –
-I am in the middle of a very important mission right now! I can't stop or loose focus for even an instant! Do you want me dead? Do you want to spend eternity in there or not? –
-Mother! –
-No! Just relax Allen. I'll let you out when we get home ok? –
-But mother! –
-No! –
0o0o0
They rounded another corner, and there he was. Arucard nearly salivated at the sight. The red haired vamp was blocking the hall, his head bowed, hair obscuring his face, fire dancing all around his form.
"Arucard. You will pay for the deaths of my brothers." He said, lifting his eyes to meet his enemy's. His face was filled with rage, pure and untainted. His eyes had turned blood red, a sign of his anger and his thirst for blood.
Arucard just smiled, flexing his hands around the grips of his guns. He'd been waiting for this fight all night long; he wasn't about to let it be ruined by some sentimental crap.
Seron pushed his fingers together and slowly pulled them apart, forming a spinning fireball between them. He hissed and launched it at his foe, spinning rivulets of flame into dozens of spears. He threw them at the three of them, not caring what he hit. The blonde screamed as a flame spear hit her in the shoulder. The Shadow Walker pulled it out and closed it up. She'd have a scar for the rest of her life.
Arucard was dodging left and right as the stone walls, floor and ceiling began to heat. In a few minutes they'd glow red and become his weapons also. He was immune to heat, to fire. Just like it was impossible for Meriquoi to drown, for Aramore to suffocate. Not that it mattered much now.
Seron pulled two long knives from the hidden sheaths on his thighs; he held them in front of his face and concentrated, absently throwing up a wall of fire between himself and his opponents. No true vampire aside from him could walk through fire and survive. Vamps burn real good; it's got something to do with purity and all that.
He focused his power into the blades and they glowed red hot, not enough heat to melt them, but enough to leave a lasting wound on as powerful a vamp as Arucard. Maybe he'd even kill the bastard.
He walked right through his own wall and shoved the knife into his enemy's stomach. Arucard actually screamed. Seron smiled. He'd die tonight, the Shadow Walker would see to that, but maybe he could have his revenge first. He twisted the knife and had a hole blown through his upper thigh in return. The Jackal was almost pressed against his body. There was huge chunk of flesh missing, but you really couldn't tell, his pants were the same color as his blood.
"Just die!" he commanded, sinking the other knife into Arucard's shoulder. The Hellsing vamp howled with fury, swinging the arm attached to that shoulder up and around, aiming his gun at Seron's temple. The redhead froze, and let a smile cross his face.
"Meriquoi, Aramore." He said. Then Arucard pulled the trigger and they both slumped to the ground, before the red head turned to ash and the flames abruptly vanished.
"Master!" cried Seras as she knelt beside him and yanked on the still burning knives stuck in his body. His flesh was beginning to cauterize around the blades, sealing itself up, growing black and dead. He let out a long breath and pulled the knife out of his stomach, his skin still smoking. Shadow pulled the other knife out of his shoulder, and hissed at what she saw.
"That's going to scar, if you can't get it to stop bleeding." She told him.
He reformed himself slowly, the power pulsing painfully. His whole being throbbed with pain, his skin was covered in burns.
"Well, the coat is ruined." He said lightly, looking down at the brunt fabric. It would 'scar' like his skin and he'd have to replace it. At least his hat was ok.
"Master, you're in no condition to fight. Let Miss Shadow take you home." Demanded Seras.
"Are you crazy? Oh wait, that's me." He replied with a laugh as he hauled himself wincingly to his feet. He braced against the wall and yelped, pulling his fingers back sharply. The walls were still hot to the touch.
"Lets go." Said Shadow, leading them quickly off the heated floor to cooler tiles before the soles of their boots melted off.
The hall was much shorter than it looked, ending abruptly with a heavy wooden door.
"This is it." Said Arucard as he pushed it open. The throne room waited beyond, Mauve and her master inside.
0o0o0
End part 17
Ok, I lied, it will be done in 19 parts. Maybe.
