Untitled
By: Ordos45
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Hellsing still isn't mine. None of the characters are, except my original one.
Chapter 1: E Nomine Satanis
"Saint Michael, Archangel, defend us in battle. Be our protection against the wickedness and snares of the Devil. May God rebuke him, we humbly pray; And do thou, O Prince of the Heavenly Host, by the power of God, thrust into hell Satan and all the other evil spirits who prowl about the world seeking the ruin of souls. Amen," murmured Father Alexander Anderson as he stared at the teeming mass of ghouls before him.
His mission had been a simple one at the briefing at least. A handful of FREAK vampires had been spotted outside of a medium sized city in the Philippines. He was ordered to go in, eliminate the FREAK vampires, and make sure Section XIII's newest acquisition; Father Baggia didn't get himself killed.
As the old saying went, no plan survived first contact with the enemy. He arrived to find Father Baggia nearly overwhelmed outside the small airstrip. It had taken the two of them almost an hour to fight off the ghouls there. By that point he should have suspected something was remiss, but he did not.
It was after they had fought off those ghouls that Father Baggia had informed him that most of this small island's population had been transformed into ghouls. That was unfortunate, that so many souls had been lost to these creatures and into damnation. It was then that Father Anderson had decided to teach Baggia some of the more advanced fighting techniques.
It was almost an hour later when the two of them were separated by a swarm of ghouls and by what appeared to be cultists who screamed about their beloved Satan. How these Satan Worshippers had managed to not be turned into ghouls, Anderson was unsure of. However, while he had been busy with the ghouls, they had apparently captured Father Baggia.
He knew that despite his obligation to rescue his fellow regenerator, he needed to complete the mission objective first. Even Baggia's life and this new satanic threat were secondary. Anderson was not about to hop half a dozen islands in order to eliminate the FREAKs.
He forced himself back to the present. With a low growl the paladin threw himself into the midst of his enemies. On either side of him his blessed blades decapitated a ghoul. His arms moved in a circle as he weaved throughout their lines, dealing death upon them.
Despite the fact he was inflicting death, he smiled ferally. He was cleansing the world of these abominations forever, and that pleased him, because it would in turn please the Lord.
Anderson rose to his full height after the final ghoul fell to his blessed blades. He sensed only three undead presences remaining in the area. Those, he was sure, were the FREAK vampires.
One flung himself out of the darkness at full speed, baring his fangs as he ran at the paladin. Father Anderson smiled with amusement and extended his right arm, blessed blade held forward. Some blood splattered across his vestments as the cheap vampire managed to impale itself through the heart on the silver blade in his hand.
The second sought to use the first's misfortune to his advantage, attacking from the rear and attaching to Anderson's back. It bent forward to drink of the blood of the regenerator's neck and quickly found itself missing the head it had once owned.
Anderson snarled, and threw a blessed blade into the darkness. He heard the scream of the final FREAK finding its way back to Hell. He had sentenced them into damnation easily enough, but now he had to find Baggia.
Father Anderson walked for a good hour, checking home to home for his fellow regenerator. He could no longer sense the man's presence…that meant either the young priest was dead, or somehow being hidden from Anderson's senses.
Without warning a single shot broke through the night, and Anderson felt a sting in his arm. He looked down to see a bullet hole sealing itself back up, the skin mending easily. However, he winced; something was off about this bullet…almost as if it was the opposite number of his blessed blades.
"Show your self servant of Satan," yelled Anderson, his blades held ready.
"Why should I," asked a voice from the darkness. It was in English, possibly an American if Anderson read the inflection and accent correctly. Perhaps it was someone from the Appalachian Mountains.
"Are you afraid," asked Anderson, trying to sense the vile presence usually let off by someone in the service of Satan. However, much to his dismay he could not sense the vile presence.
"Of you regenerator," said the voice with a chuckle," Not hardly."
Anderson grimaced as a second cursed bullet flew into his leg. He glared in the direction from where it had hit, and launched himself forward in full run. This move made the regeneration of his leg harder, but he couldn't dare to lose this chance.
"Come regenerator," taunted the voice," Surely you can heal such a small wound. The impure blood of vampires flows through your veins after all."
Anderson's face twisted in a mask of fury. How did this person know about the process used to create a regenerator involving the injection of vampiric blood? Did this man know of the rituals also used to bond the soul of an angel to a human involved?
"Come find me," taunted the voice again,"Or are your angelic augmented senses failing you?"
Father Anderson tried to lock onto the area the voice came from. He changed direction and leapt into the air slashing. Two muzzle flashes exploded in front of him and he growled in pain as two of the cursed bullets slammed into his gut. In front of him was the figure, hooded and in a cloak, reloading his weapon with skill and speed.
The figure lifted the gun towards Anderson once again as the paladin leapt forward slashing with blessed blades. Anderson's shoulder was ripped off by three cursed bullets, but the hand holding the gun dropped to the ground.
"Who are you," snarled Anderson, pressing the cloaked figure up against a tree, blessed blade at his throat," And where is Father Baggia."
"You'd like to know that Catholic, wouldn't you," asked the man pinned against the tree. Then sending spittle across Anderson's face he simply seemed to fade away.
Anderson sheathed the blessed blades beneath his vestments, and slammed his fist into the tree in frustration. It seemed he had met his opposite number among a group of Satan worshippers, and had lost a fellow regenerator, if even temporarily, all in one night. No, this had been a bloody bad mission after all.