Hmm. The idea of a slash epic.

No.

No, thank you. Fear not, dear readers... the insanity is strictly hetero.

Happy now? :)

Chapter Four: The Real Beginning

This is how it happened.

Kind of.

Cardinal Jinette called Carl in for yet another conference. There'd been rather a lot of those lately— mostly about Van Helsing's recovery from being a rutabaga, and some about Carl's propensity to blow up the Vatican every other day.

This one was about the former.

Carl edged into the room uncertainly and stood, shifting from foot to foot, in front of the Cardinal's desk. The Cardinal stopped doodling on a piece of paper and displayed the result to the novice.

"Very, er, very nice— pig, sir."

"It's a copy of the Mona Lisa," said the Cardinal, in injured tones.

"Of course— that's what I meant." Placating didn't seem to be working, so Carl instead tried one of his famous smiles. This didn't seem to work either.

"Hmmmph," said Jinette, disgruntled. "Why do I bother to show my work to the novice's? Can't expect someone like them to appreciate art."

"Sorry, Your Doodliness, you said it was something about Van Helsing?"

"Ah, yes. The former MIB. Van Helsing. How is his recovery coming?"

"Well, he's stopped trying to hide on a shelf in the root cellar, Your Majesty."

"Good, good. Progress. Now, young Carl, I have an assignment for you." This announcement brought a sound like, "Uhhhhh," from Carl, and the Cardinal looked startled. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing, Your Sir, its just that the last time you said that I was on bedpan detail for a month."

"Well, you'd just blown up the wine cellar, hadn't you? We had to do something as punishment."

"Why do we have a wine cellar, anyway? We're the Vatican."

"Exactly. We're the Vatican. What would we be without the Holy Wine?"

"Sorry, I know its tradition, it just— I don't remember reading anything in the Bible about God's people having to get drunk once a week."

"The exact wording," said the Cardinal frostily, "is 'bombed out of their skulls' and its found in Luke the 53rd chapter."

"There is no 53rd—"

"Shut up, novice."

Carl subsided.

"Now, your assignment, should you choose to accept it, is to get Van Helsing in fighting form. We haven't been able to dispel those 'Left Hand of God' rumors—" The Cardinal glared at Carl. "Thanks to you. And now the acolytes are beginning to get twitchy, wondering when Van Helsing is going to stop being a nasty drunk and get on with being the Left Hand of God. Because of this, we've decided to change his name from Abraham to Gabriel. And he leaves tomorrow to fight a vampire."

"A vampire?" cried Carl. "Right off the bat?"

"Ha ha," said Jinette sourly.

"Sorry. But really— right from the beginning, with no training or anything—"

"Do not worry about that. We will hypnotize him into thinking that he is a great monster hunter. We will even give him memories of fighting, oh, say, Mr. Hyde in London."

"Who's going to be in charge of this hypnotizing thingie?"

"One of the monks who doesn't like you."

"Oh. Alright."

"This message will self-destruct in five seconds," said Jinette, and beeped. Carl took on an expectant expression.

"Five— four— three— two—" he counted to himself.

The Cardinal exploded.

At least, thought Carl, this time it wasn't his fault.

The hypnotizing was duly undertaken, and Carl went to find Van Helsing as he awoke.

"Carl! I had the strangest dream! We were in London— and you were wearing a dress!"

Carl gritted his teeth.

"Come on, Van Helsing."

"Where are we going?"

"Transylvania."

"But— but, Carl—" said Van Helsing, hurrying after him. "Carl, I don't want to go to Transylvania! I'm not a field man—"

Wonderful, thought Carl sourly. Somebody snafu-ed, and I've got to clean it up.

Such is the life of a monk.

Friar.

Novice.

Carl.

Humph.