Chapter 3: Confrontation
Disclaimer: Don't own Hellsing, Alucard, etc. etc. etc.
Francis Chervouz sat at his desk idly reading reports. This was just the sort of leadership detail he hated. It was boring, usually routine, and completely impossible to delegate. He hadn't anticipated this when he took over the Knights. He had anticipated leading at the head of his troops, wiping out the unnatural menace of vampires and re-living his family's glorious past. Then he had run head-first into bureaucratic reality. Nowadays it was just read reports, go to meetings, and try not to die of boredom. However, what happened next made him wish that he could just keep it that way.
As he finished what seemed the billionth report of the day, the private line on his desk rang. He wondered who it could be, as the caller- ID came up blank. Curious, he picked up the phone.
"Hello?" he said. "Who is this?"
"Why, Francis, I'm hurt. After all these years you still haven't added me to your ID."
He sighed. Integra Hellsing. Whenever this woman called him, there was sure to be trouble.
"What do you want, Integra?"
The playful tone in her voice evaporated as she focused on business.
"There has been an odd incident in one of the southern villages in England," she said. "It seems that a gaggle of ghouls and 4 vampires were eradicated by a large beast. What is even more odd is that this beast seemed to have an accomplice. One who used," she paused for effect, "newly made American .500 magnums. Now, tell me, Francis, would you know anything about that?
Chervouz shifted uncomfortably in his chair. The truth was, he knew everything about that particular incident. His niece, Belle, had been the one who Garous had rescued from the vampires. He had known about the ghoul buildup in her village for several months, and Hellsing had not moved fast enough for his liking. Fearing for his niece's safety, he had sent Garous out to get rid of the vampires. Not a moment too soon, either.
He said none of this, of course. He was not that stupid. Instead he layered his voice with disdain and replied, "Of course not, Integra. I believe England is your jurisdiction, is it not? Why would I know anything about an incident there?"
"Very well. I will accept you your word this time. I just thought I should ask, seeing as your Masseur Garous is known to leave just such a trail of destruction behind him. Indeed, his talent for it surpasses even Alucard's.
Francis smiled. "You have no idea," he said, before hanging up.
* * *
Jean-Paul Garous walked down the hall of the Knights of Charlemagne training center. It was a huge armory, VR training deck, and 2-mile firing range built into the side of a mountain. Today he was getting a rare treat, for today was qualifying day for his favorite weapon: the M60A1 Vulcan cannon. Because of ammunition cost and the destructive capabilities of the weapon, he was only allowed to play with it once a year.
He stepped into the armory and began the shift. 1 minute later, he walked out in full Werewolf form, carrying the Vulcan and wearing a 2000 round belt carrier for it on his back. He also had a 200 round box of 20mm H.E.A.T. rounds, and a 200 round box of D.U. rounds. Oh, yes, he was going to have fun today.
The firing range for the Vulcan had been specially set up for mobile combat. The qualifying objective was to destroy 5 armored drone tanks that fired laser tag dummy ammunition. If his hit ratio during the destruction was less than 95%, he would fail the test. He would also fail if he was hit by more than 3 laser beams from the dummy rounds. He was determined not to fail.
Garous stepped to the firing line, hefting the massive Gatling gun to his hip. Even with all his werewolf strength, it was still a handful. He waited as the tanks began to activate, and then, fired. The huge cannon set up a terrific racket, and bucked in his hands like a fire hose. He wrestled it down, and started the fun.
The 20mm ball ammo sliced through the tanks like a hot knife through butter. The first tank took 300 rounds before it collapsed, reduced to little more than fragments. The second soaked up about 400 before it disintegrated into shrapnel. He moved around the entire time, avoiding the laser tag dummy rounds the tanks were firing, using his hearing and his sense of smell more than his sight to aim. He heard a tank tread over the background noise of the cannon, and smelled cordite from the dummy rounds that had a different tang than that of his own weapon. Using his eyes to ascertain that the direction he was pointing in was where the tank was, he held down the trigger until the tank was dust.
Jean-Paul paused, and darted behind a cardboard barricade that represented a building. He kicked out the ball ammo belt, shrugged the huge belt carrier off of his back, and quickly threaded the belt of H.E.A.T. shells into the cannon from a box on his carrying harness. He stepped back out, reacquired his aim, and blew the tank to kingdom come. It was literally vaporized as the High Explosive Anti Tank shells pounded into it. He fired the rest of the belt into the surrounding area of the tank for good measure, and then threw down the empty box and threaded the belt of Depleted Uranium rounds into the Vulcan.
He turned to the last tank, ducked to avoid a laser tag round, and then fired. The heavy D.U. bullets blew huge chunks out of the armor, and effectively destroyed it in less than 5 seconds. Garous checked that there were no more targets, and then triumphantly turned to get his score. He set the huge cannon down and went over to the range control officer, shifting back to human as he did. It always made the humans nervous if he stayed in beast form.
"Well?" he said. "How did I do?" The range officer lowered the video camera he had been filming the spectacle with, and smiled.
"Passed as always," he said. "97.3 hit percentage, a .3% rise from last time. Good job."
"What's the camera for?" asked Jean-Paul.
"Just a little proof for a bet that I made. My good friend the armory manager wouldn't believe me when I told him you could use that thing like that. I believe he owes me some 300 francs now.
Jean-Paul chuckled as he walked away. He shifted again, picked up the weapon and various ammunition carriers, and brought them back to the armory for maintenance. After seeing that they were put in their proper places, he put his shirt and coat back on, collected his magnums, and headed off down the hall.
As Jean-Paul left the building, the small cell phone in his pocket buzzed. Flipping it open, he readied himself for another mission, and was surprised to hear the voice of Francis Chervouz.
"Come up to my office, Jean-Paul," said Masseur Chervouz. "We need to talk."
* *
*
Well, what do you think? Does this make up for the short second chapter? Sorry that there's not more Hellsing, I'm building up to that. Please read and review and let me know what you think. Ideas for the next chapter are welcome, flames are not.
Disclaimer: Don't own Hellsing, Alucard, etc. etc. etc.
Francis Chervouz sat at his desk idly reading reports. This was just the sort of leadership detail he hated. It was boring, usually routine, and completely impossible to delegate. He hadn't anticipated this when he took over the Knights. He had anticipated leading at the head of his troops, wiping out the unnatural menace of vampires and re-living his family's glorious past. Then he had run head-first into bureaucratic reality. Nowadays it was just read reports, go to meetings, and try not to die of boredom. However, what happened next made him wish that he could just keep it that way.
As he finished what seemed the billionth report of the day, the private line on his desk rang. He wondered who it could be, as the caller- ID came up blank. Curious, he picked up the phone.
"Hello?" he said. "Who is this?"
"Why, Francis, I'm hurt. After all these years you still haven't added me to your ID."
He sighed. Integra Hellsing. Whenever this woman called him, there was sure to be trouble.
"What do you want, Integra?"
The playful tone in her voice evaporated as she focused on business.
"There has been an odd incident in one of the southern villages in England," she said. "It seems that a gaggle of ghouls and 4 vampires were eradicated by a large beast. What is even more odd is that this beast seemed to have an accomplice. One who used," she paused for effect, "newly made American .500 magnums. Now, tell me, Francis, would you know anything about that?
Chervouz shifted uncomfortably in his chair. The truth was, he knew everything about that particular incident. His niece, Belle, had been the one who Garous had rescued from the vampires. He had known about the ghoul buildup in her village for several months, and Hellsing had not moved fast enough for his liking. Fearing for his niece's safety, he had sent Garous out to get rid of the vampires. Not a moment too soon, either.
He said none of this, of course. He was not that stupid. Instead he layered his voice with disdain and replied, "Of course not, Integra. I believe England is your jurisdiction, is it not? Why would I know anything about an incident there?"
"Very well. I will accept you your word this time. I just thought I should ask, seeing as your Masseur Garous is known to leave just such a trail of destruction behind him. Indeed, his talent for it surpasses even Alucard's.
Francis smiled. "You have no idea," he said, before hanging up.
* * *
Jean-Paul Garous walked down the hall of the Knights of Charlemagne training center. It was a huge armory, VR training deck, and 2-mile firing range built into the side of a mountain. Today he was getting a rare treat, for today was qualifying day for his favorite weapon: the M60A1 Vulcan cannon. Because of ammunition cost and the destructive capabilities of the weapon, he was only allowed to play with it once a year.
He stepped into the armory and began the shift. 1 minute later, he walked out in full Werewolf form, carrying the Vulcan and wearing a 2000 round belt carrier for it on his back. He also had a 200 round box of 20mm H.E.A.T. rounds, and a 200 round box of D.U. rounds. Oh, yes, he was going to have fun today.
The firing range for the Vulcan had been specially set up for mobile combat. The qualifying objective was to destroy 5 armored drone tanks that fired laser tag dummy ammunition. If his hit ratio during the destruction was less than 95%, he would fail the test. He would also fail if he was hit by more than 3 laser beams from the dummy rounds. He was determined not to fail.
Garous stepped to the firing line, hefting the massive Gatling gun to his hip. Even with all his werewolf strength, it was still a handful. He waited as the tanks began to activate, and then, fired. The huge cannon set up a terrific racket, and bucked in his hands like a fire hose. He wrestled it down, and started the fun.
The 20mm ball ammo sliced through the tanks like a hot knife through butter. The first tank took 300 rounds before it collapsed, reduced to little more than fragments. The second soaked up about 400 before it disintegrated into shrapnel. He moved around the entire time, avoiding the laser tag dummy rounds the tanks were firing, using his hearing and his sense of smell more than his sight to aim. He heard a tank tread over the background noise of the cannon, and smelled cordite from the dummy rounds that had a different tang than that of his own weapon. Using his eyes to ascertain that the direction he was pointing in was where the tank was, he held down the trigger until the tank was dust.
Jean-Paul paused, and darted behind a cardboard barricade that represented a building. He kicked out the ball ammo belt, shrugged the huge belt carrier off of his back, and quickly threaded the belt of H.E.A.T. shells into the cannon from a box on his carrying harness. He stepped back out, reacquired his aim, and blew the tank to kingdom come. It was literally vaporized as the High Explosive Anti Tank shells pounded into it. He fired the rest of the belt into the surrounding area of the tank for good measure, and then threw down the empty box and threaded the belt of Depleted Uranium rounds into the Vulcan.
He turned to the last tank, ducked to avoid a laser tag round, and then fired. The heavy D.U. bullets blew huge chunks out of the armor, and effectively destroyed it in less than 5 seconds. Garous checked that there were no more targets, and then triumphantly turned to get his score. He set the huge cannon down and went over to the range control officer, shifting back to human as he did. It always made the humans nervous if he stayed in beast form.
"Well?" he said. "How did I do?" The range officer lowered the video camera he had been filming the spectacle with, and smiled.
"Passed as always," he said. "97.3 hit percentage, a .3% rise from last time. Good job."
"What's the camera for?" asked Jean-Paul.
"Just a little proof for a bet that I made. My good friend the armory manager wouldn't believe me when I told him you could use that thing like that. I believe he owes me some 300 francs now.
Jean-Paul chuckled as he walked away. He shifted again, picked up the weapon and various ammunition carriers, and brought them back to the armory for maintenance. After seeing that they were put in their proper places, he put his shirt and coat back on, collected his magnums, and headed off down the hall.
As Jean-Paul left the building, the small cell phone in his pocket buzzed. Flipping it open, he readied himself for another mission, and was surprised to hear the voice of Francis Chervouz.
"Come up to my office, Jean-Paul," said Masseur Chervouz. "We need to talk."
* *
*
Well, what do you think? Does this make up for the short second chapter? Sorry that there's not more Hellsing, I'm building up to that. Please read and review and let me know what you think. Ideas for the next chapter are welcome, flames are not.