It was dark, reflected Paladin Anderson as he walked into the room. The
streetlights were dim, and he stood in a pool of light as he surveyed his
surroundings. It was still, quiet, almost peaceful. But he was a
predator, a wolf for the Lord, and any wild animal knows enough to be on
guard, even in absolute silence. Especially in absolute silence.
The first ghoul dragged its feet behind him, and that sound caught his ears. He spun, reaching into his jacket and hurling a knife as thick as his forearm; it dropped, and he reached for more. The silence and peace was gone now, replaced by the beating of his heart in his ears, and an icy thrill of adrenaline he knew his superiors didn't wholly approve of.
A goblin leapt forth from the roof, claws extended to gouge eyes and rip out hearts. Three knives went to it, and he reached into his clothes again grabbing instead for the scriptures.
When he had first been shown this technique, it had seemed to him like the unfurling of an angel's wings, the hand-scribed vellum flying around, to be fixed by those same blessed knives that he wielded today. Something of the wonder had gone out as he had learned it, but he still saw it as his own personal miracle, much as the regeneration God and the Church had blessed him with.
The figures around him slowed as the wards went up, discomfited by his evident proof of the Lord's judgment at hand. He was prepared to exorcise these demons from the Earth today, if not by faith than certainly by craft. He heard shrieks from them, and there was a thud he recognized as one of the wards catching a ghoul on its way to the wall. He smiled, and adjusted his glasses.
They had surrounded him. Their hands reached out, and their faces, in this light, could almost be mistaken for having once been human. Anderson changed his grip, his grin widening and becoming almost feral, and with one hand brought the edge across all of them in a wide, downward slash. A spray of dust went up, and as he dipped into the crouch, he shielded his eyes.
There was movement, more of it from behind him. He didn't even turn this time, and a knife flew behind him with a flick of the wrist. There was a satisfying rip as he hit his target...and then a loud, disapproving buzz.
The lights went up as he stood, the city revealed as a prop. The goblin dummy, looking almost ridiculous in daylight after years of use, abuse, and repair, lay prostrate, and the ghouls were revealed for puppets in pools of playground sand. And then there was the target he had hit seconds ago. It was the oldest one they had, faded and worn, seeming for all the world like a scarecrow dressed as a friar, with hair yellow like the straw that filed it.
On the positive side, Anderson decided, he had caught him in the heart. Death would be quick, and the fellow would certainly pass judgment before Saint Peter. The sin would be his, and he could yet atone.
[Do you see what you have done?] Asked the head monk in flawless Latin. [Worse than just an innocent, Paladin.]
[It is a mercy to him, Father.] said Anderson. [With all these ghouls around, I would fear for his soul. Better I send him to God's judgment than a single bite damn him.]
His superior sighed. Anderson knew they would let this go. As much as he disliked it sometimes, acting on behalf of God's Wrath let him get away with things like making these mistakes in practice, as well as in real life.
[It is just as well.] Said the monk. [Iscariot has orders for you.] He winced at the eager gleam in the Paladin's eye, and handed him a folder. [And they even send you back home.] He added.
Anderson flipped through. [The big red beast, is it?] He asked. He knew that silhouette in the airport security cameras. [I thought he was off limits by treaty with the Americans.]
[And those St. George people.] The monk added. [But I hear he is not working for them anymore. Still, he is a celebrity, and it would make an enemy of the public if he died. Anyway, you are not looking at the right person.]
Anderson seemed confused for a moment, scanning the photograph. The big oaf took up so much of the picture, talking to that fellow—Ah. His grin twisted, and he looked at the monk who had handed it to him.
[I take it you know the history of this organization?] He said. [And you know the significance of that man?]
[I do.] He said. [Does the old man know?] He added, curiously.
[No.] Said the monk, and his face was stony, unapologetic. [His mercy outweighs his conviction, sometimes, and perhaps the left hand of God may need a firmer guide back to us than he would be willing to provide.]
[Good.] Said Anderson, looking up from the photograph and down to the monk. [When does my plane leave?]
Seras checked her ammunition for about the tenth time before leaning back against the boat hull and sighed. The young vampire wasn't too particularly fond of this new assignment, but it wasn't as if there was another choice. Several children in Ireland had been kidnapped and there was apparently evidence that ghouls and maybe vampires were involved. And Sir Integra had given orders to investigate the matter and eliminate the source of the problem. Even from prison in the Tower of London, Lady Hellsing still managed the operations of the Hellsing Organization.
Either way, it did provide her master with something to keep him occupied. Seras discovered how frightening Alucard could be when he was bored. He didn't actually do anything really; but what he suggested was bad enough. If even managed to pull off half of the things that he said...Seras shivered at the thought. She was just glad that something came up for him to do. Even if it did take them to Ireland.
The vampire suppressed a groan. Being in Ireland put within the realm of the Vatican and, more importantly, the Iscariot Organization. Which meant that Paladin Anderson could make an appearance. Her fingers unconsciously headed towards the faint scar on her neck were his blade on through almost a year ago.
"Are you all right, police girl?" A voice said from above her. She looked up and saw Walter standing over her with his concerned expression on his face.
Seras managed a slight smile, "Not too badly, Walter, I suppose."
"Thinking about Paladin Anderson?"
She gulped and nodded. Her apprehension must have been clear for everyone to see.
Walter chuckled and sat down beside her. "Well, I believe that I can understand your feelings, Miss Victoria. There are some things out there that I would rather never have to face. Let me tell you about one that is scarier than Anderson."
"I doubt that there could be anyone scarier than Anderson, with the exception of my master," she responded doubtfully.
"Nevertheless, let me try. Let me assure you, this man would never make Alucard hesitate. I first met the man about forty years ago. Back when I was much younger than I am now. At the time, it was Sir Integra's grandfather who was in charge of Hellsing. Also, your master was under our control. But at the time, it was getting too expensive to keep Alucard around. We didn't have the medical technology that we have now to sustain a vampire without drawing suspicions. Eventually it was decided that he had to be destroyed. The problem was getting someone with similar powers that would have less expensive upkeep."
"Wha-what was decided?"
"In America, there was a chap that seemed to fit our requirements. He was under the control of the government. But they were willing to lend him out if the occasion arose. When Alucard found out that he was going to be replaced and executed...well, you and I can both imagine what his reaction would have been. He started to go on a rampage, determined to maintain his unlife. Sir Intega's grandfather was fatally wounded in the assault and we barely were able to keep Alucard from wreaking havoc on England. Fortunately for us, Hellboy arrived and subdued Alucard."
"H-Hellboy? Are you talking about the same bloke that I've been reading about in the papers? He looks like a demon!" Seras cried.
Walter nodded, "I'm glad that you're in touch our current news. And yes, I'm talking about the same man...if that is what he really is. He ages very well I understand. He was dead set against sealing Alucard away at the time. He had seen a lot of what your master is capable of doing and argued for destroying Alucard. But others at the Organization thought differently and sealed Alucard away in the lower levels of the Hellsing Manor until Sir Integra released him."
"Whoa. I had no idea."
"Indeed, at the time, neither did I," a sultry voice commented form the shadows. Seras showed no surprise as Alucard emerged from the shadows. "At our first meeting, I sourly underestimated who or what he is. I can hardly wait to fight him again," he said in a slightly more sensual tone.
"I doubt that it will ever come to that, Alucard. You're both fighting on the same side now. Circumstances will certainly have to extreme and strange for the two of you to become opponents again," Walter said as he stood. "I'll go talk to our captain and see how much longer it will be until we land."
"Master," Seras asked as Walter left, "Was that Hellboy really worse than Anderson?"
Alucard laughed, his fangs flashing bone-white. "He was stronger than Incognito." He admitted. "Or at least more resourceful."
Seras blanched, and the color in her face drained. "Well, at least the worst thing you've fought is on the other side of the pond, right?" She laughed nervously. There were faint scars, still fading, where Incognito's power had torn into her.
"Perhaps. But there are stronger things than Hellboy in the world. I simply cannot expect I could get another fight from who I really want."
Seras was silent, unsure she wanted to know more. Alucard continued anyway. "He was before any of this." He said. "He precedes your terrifying Vatican puppet in more ways than one." He turned his head to look out the window. "Where are you, I wonder?" He mused out loud. "I would love for you to allow me a rematch, Left Hand of God."
The first ghoul dragged its feet behind him, and that sound caught his ears. He spun, reaching into his jacket and hurling a knife as thick as his forearm; it dropped, and he reached for more. The silence and peace was gone now, replaced by the beating of his heart in his ears, and an icy thrill of adrenaline he knew his superiors didn't wholly approve of.
A goblin leapt forth from the roof, claws extended to gouge eyes and rip out hearts. Three knives went to it, and he reached into his clothes again grabbing instead for the scriptures.
When he had first been shown this technique, it had seemed to him like the unfurling of an angel's wings, the hand-scribed vellum flying around, to be fixed by those same blessed knives that he wielded today. Something of the wonder had gone out as he had learned it, but he still saw it as his own personal miracle, much as the regeneration God and the Church had blessed him with.
The figures around him slowed as the wards went up, discomfited by his evident proof of the Lord's judgment at hand. He was prepared to exorcise these demons from the Earth today, if not by faith than certainly by craft. He heard shrieks from them, and there was a thud he recognized as one of the wards catching a ghoul on its way to the wall. He smiled, and adjusted his glasses.
They had surrounded him. Their hands reached out, and their faces, in this light, could almost be mistaken for having once been human. Anderson changed his grip, his grin widening and becoming almost feral, and with one hand brought the edge across all of them in a wide, downward slash. A spray of dust went up, and as he dipped into the crouch, he shielded his eyes.
There was movement, more of it from behind him. He didn't even turn this time, and a knife flew behind him with a flick of the wrist. There was a satisfying rip as he hit his target...and then a loud, disapproving buzz.
The lights went up as he stood, the city revealed as a prop. The goblin dummy, looking almost ridiculous in daylight after years of use, abuse, and repair, lay prostrate, and the ghouls were revealed for puppets in pools of playground sand. And then there was the target he had hit seconds ago. It was the oldest one they had, faded and worn, seeming for all the world like a scarecrow dressed as a friar, with hair yellow like the straw that filed it.
On the positive side, Anderson decided, he had caught him in the heart. Death would be quick, and the fellow would certainly pass judgment before Saint Peter. The sin would be his, and he could yet atone.
[Do you see what you have done?] Asked the head monk in flawless Latin. [Worse than just an innocent, Paladin.]
[It is a mercy to him, Father.] said Anderson. [With all these ghouls around, I would fear for his soul. Better I send him to God's judgment than a single bite damn him.]
His superior sighed. Anderson knew they would let this go. As much as he disliked it sometimes, acting on behalf of God's Wrath let him get away with things like making these mistakes in practice, as well as in real life.
[It is just as well.] Said the monk. [Iscariot has orders for you.] He winced at the eager gleam in the Paladin's eye, and handed him a folder. [And they even send you back home.] He added.
Anderson flipped through. [The big red beast, is it?] He asked. He knew that silhouette in the airport security cameras. [I thought he was off limits by treaty with the Americans.]
[And those St. George people.] The monk added. [But I hear he is not working for them anymore. Still, he is a celebrity, and it would make an enemy of the public if he died. Anyway, you are not looking at the right person.]
Anderson seemed confused for a moment, scanning the photograph. The big oaf took up so much of the picture, talking to that fellow—Ah. His grin twisted, and he looked at the monk who had handed it to him.
[I take it you know the history of this organization?] He said. [And you know the significance of that man?]
[I do.] He said. [Does the old man know?] He added, curiously.
[No.] Said the monk, and his face was stony, unapologetic. [His mercy outweighs his conviction, sometimes, and perhaps the left hand of God may need a firmer guide back to us than he would be willing to provide.]
[Good.] Said Anderson, looking up from the photograph and down to the monk. [When does my plane leave?]
Seras checked her ammunition for about the tenth time before leaning back against the boat hull and sighed. The young vampire wasn't too particularly fond of this new assignment, but it wasn't as if there was another choice. Several children in Ireland had been kidnapped and there was apparently evidence that ghouls and maybe vampires were involved. And Sir Integra had given orders to investigate the matter and eliminate the source of the problem. Even from prison in the Tower of London, Lady Hellsing still managed the operations of the Hellsing Organization.
Either way, it did provide her master with something to keep him occupied. Seras discovered how frightening Alucard could be when he was bored. He didn't actually do anything really; but what he suggested was bad enough. If even managed to pull off half of the things that he said...Seras shivered at the thought. She was just glad that something came up for him to do. Even if it did take them to Ireland.
The vampire suppressed a groan. Being in Ireland put within the realm of the Vatican and, more importantly, the Iscariot Organization. Which meant that Paladin Anderson could make an appearance. Her fingers unconsciously headed towards the faint scar on her neck were his blade on through almost a year ago.
"Are you all right, police girl?" A voice said from above her. She looked up and saw Walter standing over her with his concerned expression on his face.
Seras managed a slight smile, "Not too badly, Walter, I suppose."
"Thinking about Paladin Anderson?"
She gulped and nodded. Her apprehension must have been clear for everyone to see.
Walter chuckled and sat down beside her. "Well, I believe that I can understand your feelings, Miss Victoria. There are some things out there that I would rather never have to face. Let me tell you about one that is scarier than Anderson."
"I doubt that there could be anyone scarier than Anderson, with the exception of my master," she responded doubtfully.
"Nevertheless, let me try. Let me assure you, this man would never make Alucard hesitate. I first met the man about forty years ago. Back when I was much younger than I am now. At the time, it was Sir Integra's grandfather who was in charge of Hellsing. Also, your master was under our control. But at the time, it was getting too expensive to keep Alucard around. We didn't have the medical technology that we have now to sustain a vampire without drawing suspicions. Eventually it was decided that he had to be destroyed. The problem was getting someone with similar powers that would have less expensive upkeep."
"Wha-what was decided?"
"In America, there was a chap that seemed to fit our requirements. He was under the control of the government. But they were willing to lend him out if the occasion arose. When Alucard found out that he was going to be replaced and executed...well, you and I can both imagine what his reaction would have been. He started to go on a rampage, determined to maintain his unlife. Sir Intega's grandfather was fatally wounded in the assault and we barely were able to keep Alucard from wreaking havoc on England. Fortunately for us, Hellboy arrived and subdued Alucard."
"H-Hellboy? Are you talking about the same bloke that I've been reading about in the papers? He looks like a demon!" Seras cried.
Walter nodded, "I'm glad that you're in touch our current news. And yes, I'm talking about the same man...if that is what he really is. He ages very well I understand. He was dead set against sealing Alucard away at the time. He had seen a lot of what your master is capable of doing and argued for destroying Alucard. But others at the Organization thought differently and sealed Alucard away in the lower levels of the Hellsing Manor until Sir Integra released him."
"Whoa. I had no idea."
"Indeed, at the time, neither did I," a sultry voice commented form the shadows. Seras showed no surprise as Alucard emerged from the shadows. "At our first meeting, I sourly underestimated who or what he is. I can hardly wait to fight him again," he said in a slightly more sensual tone.
"I doubt that it will ever come to that, Alucard. You're both fighting on the same side now. Circumstances will certainly have to extreme and strange for the two of you to become opponents again," Walter said as he stood. "I'll go talk to our captain and see how much longer it will be until we land."
"Master," Seras asked as Walter left, "Was that Hellboy really worse than Anderson?"
Alucard laughed, his fangs flashing bone-white. "He was stronger than Incognito." He admitted. "Or at least more resourceful."
Seras blanched, and the color in her face drained. "Well, at least the worst thing you've fought is on the other side of the pond, right?" She laughed nervously. There were faint scars, still fading, where Incognito's power had torn into her.
"Perhaps. But there are stronger things than Hellboy in the world. I simply cannot expect I could get another fight from who I really want."
Seras was silent, unsure she wanted to know more. Alucard continued anyway. "He was before any of this." He said. "He precedes your terrifying Vatican puppet in more ways than one." He turned his head to look out the window. "Where are you, I wonder?" He mused out loud. "I would love for you to allow me a rematch, Left Hand of God."