Rome, Italy

Thundering across the open square of the Piazza San Pletro, the black stallion did not slow nor halt until it reached the steps of Saint Peter's Basilica. Its rider dismounted, handing the reigns off to the waiting friar, then briskly made his way up the steps and into the church. Even now, within, the morning services were being conducted, which meant that he would either have to wait a while, or go around through the back. The desire to get things over with won out, and Gabriel Van Helsing made his way into an empty hallway, where he saw what he was looking for.

He stepped over to the large statue of Michael, examining it carefully, since he hadn't been required to use this entrance in a while. But if he recalled right, the switch was somewhere...

There. Turning the sword, Gabriel stepped back and watched as the section of wall behind the statue slid open to reveal a staircase. He took a moment to turn the sword back into place, then stepped through the doorway before the wall slid into position again. As he descended the stairs, he could hear the work being down below in the caverns under the basilica. Metal being pounded, the occasional shouting of orders; it felt like home again.

Now, reaching the end of the stairwell, Van Helsing stepped into the massive armory of the Templar Order. Not much had changed in forty years in terms of efficiency, though the methods and ways of keeping that efficiency had. Progression was ever so present here, with the Templar always striving to be on the cutting edge of the war against evil.

Now he walked through the bustling work place of the Templar's agents, making his way toward the cardinal's office here in the caverns. With a soft knock, he waited. When there was no reply, however, Van Helsing knocked again, this time much more pronounced.

"Enter!" came the annoyed reply from within. Grinning, Gabriel opened the door and stepped into the office of Cardinal Richelieu. He always waited for that exact way of giving permission to enter, because if the cardinals were in a pleasant mood, it meant that he wasn't going to be.

He took off his hat and nodded to the man clad in red robes who sat at the oak desk. "Afternoon, Cardinal. You'll be happy to know that Renfield has been taken care of, and Dracula's return was a complete failure, no thanks to my own efforts."

With an indignant glare, Cardinal Richelieu narrowed one eye at Van Helsing. With a well kept short beard and his once black hair graying all over, he was the archetype image of a man of the Church. He rose from his seat, not that much shorter than Van Helsing, but his aura of presence made up for the difference in height, or so Richelieu would have liked. "Pride, Van Helsing, is one of the Seven Sins," he stated sharply. "Particularly pride in one's self for that which he is obligated to do."

Yes, definitely a perfect replacement for Jinette in almost every way. "Considering that you have no place to be lecturing a being such as me on pride," Van Helsing replied, reminding the cardinal once again of the vast difference between them, "I'd think you'd have given up by now."

The cardinal snorted. If he had been in a pleasant mood before, he certainly wasn't now. All the better, because if Gabriel had to be in a bad mood at the moment, so did Richelieu. "I still try to comprehend how a soldier of Heaven-"

"Formerly of Heaven," Gabriel corrected.

Richelieu ignored the interruption. "-can go brazenly about, indulging in acts that are the vices of mortal man. I'm surprised that you haven't left Nephilim spawn about wherever you go."

"Now that is having a big lack of faith," Van Helsing snapped. He'd been through these kinds of verbal bouts with Richelieu before, notably ever since he had been placed in charge of the Templar ten years ago after Jinette had passed away. And to be honest with himself, Van Helsing actually did miss old Jinette. At least he had, under the guise of dislike, understood Gabriel's burden, and could sympathized. Richelieu, however, had never been forced with those responsibilities before his tenure with the Templar had began, and even now still had always passed it off to others. In fact, the minute Richelieu had found out Van Helsing's divine origins, he'd made it clear that there would be no rest for the Archangel of Judgement, so long as he could help it, stating that angelic warriors had no use for human needs such as rest and nourishment.

That, of course, hadn't gone over well at all with Van Helsing. If his verbal battles with Jinette were a sight to behold, then the conflicts he'd endured with Richelieu were the stuff of legends. Even after ten years, he still didn't understand that Van Helsing was not fully restored to the status he'd once held so long ago in Heaven. He was unkillable, true, and he did not age, but he could be hurt, and his mortal form did require the basic needs of mortal men, such as rest, food, and time to recover. Notably on the last point, since, even though he could not be killed, Van Helsing could be injured so much that his form went into a death-like state to recover. The last time it had happened, he'd be caught in the center of an explosion that tore half his skin and muscles off, and it had taken him a week to completely regenerate his body and recoup before he could go back after his target. It had almost ruined his perfect record, but, he'd learned to live with such events.

Richelieu, however, was a different matter.

"I'll have you know," Gabriel continued while pulling off his gloves, "that as of yet, I have not had such relations with a woman, and as of the foreseeable future, I don't count on it." He sighed, giving the cardinal a long glare. "I'm kept far too busy to have the time."

Annoyingly enough, Richelieu smiled. "Then my work is a success," he stated, walking around his desk and past Van Helsing to leave his office. "You are an Archangel, you have no need of mortal vices and desires."

"I hardly call basic food and rest a vice," Gabriel growled as he followed the cardinal back into the armory. "I may be an angel, but my body is mortal. I can be exhausted, I can be starved, and most importantly..." He paused a moment while Richelieu spun about to face him, now giving him a look of displeasure. "I can be hurt. Jinette understood that well, so why in your decade of service in the Order can't you?"

For a moment, Richelieu said nothing. His face was conflicted, to be sure, and he couldn't quite think of how to rebuke Van Helsing's words. "If I did not have the understanding," he at last responded. "Then why was it that His Holiness placed me in charge of the Templar?"

"Because Pius couldn't find anyone else in the area who would take the job?" Gabriel retorted. He allowed himself a smile, because now, the cardinal could not find any way to counter the accusation. "Face it, you were the only one who wanted the position, and in my opinion, that makes you the worst choice. Sadly, there was no one else."

The cardinal hissed at his divine companion. "Be that as it may," came his loathing words. "May I remind you that I still am in charge here, and until that changes, you will abide my decisions, is that clear?"

A grin informed Richelieu that Gabriel could really care less, and the man then took his chance to walk away from the cardinal. Small a victory it was, but it was still a victory. "As clear as that empty space between your ears," he called back, leaving the cardinal behind as he headed into the depths of the armory. He glanced back to sure that Richelieu wasn't following him, then made his way toward one particular area of the cavern. He was looking for someone in particular, and if his hunch was correct...

A loud bang went off, and Van Helsing smiled when he heard the chorus of shouts that were berating the source of that noise. "Carl," he muttered as he saw the man in goggles who was furiously apologizing to several people. "Still working on a way to blow up the planet?"

Turning, the goggled man grunted the moment he saw Van Helsing. "I should have known you'd be back so soon," he said, pulling off his goggles and slipping a pair of glasses on. Almost forty years older from when he'd first had his taste of the field, and Carlson Seward was still as sharp witted as ever. His hair was now a dusty gray, a few age lines on his face, and he had put on quite a few pounds since the original mission in Tirgoviste, but he had proven to stand to test of time. Now, he looked very much like Abraham Van Helsing, and was much so the late professor's successor. He'd even acquired his degrees and now was Professor Seward. Yet, even after all those years, he was still the same old Carl.

"How did the incursion with Mister Renfield go?" he asked, setting his goggles on a table and walking over to where a large pile of devices and weapons rested. "I would hope there was enough left to identify him by."

Yes, Carl was older and wiser, but still the smart-mouthed genius he was back then. "Well, he fell from the battlements of a six-story castle," Gabriel replied while setting his own gloves and hat on the table. "How much do you think was left?"

There was a look of disappointment in Carl's eyes. "I would have expected him to be in pieces, it seems I overestimated you this time." He shrugged, then gestured for Van Helsing to follow him. "I assume that this time you came back with most of your equipment intact."

"You assume right," Gabriel replied, pulling out the retractable quarterstaff and throwing it to Seward. "Not one lock up when I hit the switch, looks like you worked all the bugs out."

Carl grinned. It was nice when he actually got his inventions back in one piece. Lately, he'd had such luck, unlike the old days when he was lucky if he even got the remains of half the devices he sent with Van Helsing into the field. These days, Gabriel had been keeping good care of his weapons, which was something that made their designer quite happy. "Glad to hear it. By the way, how is Anna? I presume you dropped by to give her a visit."

"Anna's doing well," he replied. His hand, reaching into his coat, brushed against the handle of Adrian's sword. For a moment, Van Helsing considered withdrawing it and leaving it here, but his instincts told him to keep it on his body. "Her boys are trying to be just like us."

"God forbid your namesake do so," Seward cracked while walking toward what was his office here in the Templar. He ushered Van Helsing in, then shut the door, locking it to make sure that they were not interrupted by Richelieu. Like Van Helsing, Carl could not stand the cardinal one bit. He sighed then and walked over to a large filing cabinet, opening a drawer to pull out a thick folder. "I know you just got back," he continued, walking over and sitting down. "But, we do have a problem."

The folder now found itself on Carl's desk. Van Helsing glanced to his old friend quizingly, then picked up the file and opened it to glance over notes and maps of what appeared to be Egypt. "Not the Sun-Disk cult again," he muttered, raising his eyes to look at Carl.

"I only wish it were." Seward gestured for Van Helsing to keep reading. "Hatnofer would be a walk in the park compared to this mess we're facing." His expression went dark for a moment. "Gabriel, it's Hamunaptra."

The archangel halted, now staring at Carl with shock. "The City of the Dead?" he said, unable to believe it. "You've got to be joking. It's well guarded, no one has been in that city since-"

"Since a garrison from the French Foreign Legion found their way there three years ago," Carl finished. He could see the surprise on Van Helsing's face, and nodded, knowing that it was warranted. "We got word that someone may have found the map leading there. Our contact in Cairo warned us that there might be a chance the city could be found, so, it's probably best to send you." Suddenly, Carl grinned. Van Helsing wasn't sure whether it was from sadistic amusement, or genuine pleasure. "You're to do more a security job than actually go about with the usual 'blow away anything that moves' style of mission. God knows you could use the vacation time."

Security job. That meant more than likely, he'd get a chance to relax. Now he understood while Carl was the one giving the assignment here; he was undermining Richelieu's authority. "So no chance of actual battle?"

"Oh, there's always that chance," Carl replied. "Particularly when you are involved." Again, he smiled. "But, considering your record, it hopefully won't come down to facing anything too nasty. Richelieu wants to send his 'new recruits', but since with something like this, there's a chance of trouble..."

Yes, the cardinal's personal recruits, whom he tended to give all the easy assignments so that he had an excuse to elevate quickly them through the ranks. Just about every one of them was a major kiss-up to Richelieu, particularly that one man with the eyepatch. No wonder Carl was making sure Van Helsing got on this mission first. Sending someone with little to no experience with large scale conflicts into a situation that had the chance of real trouble was a surefire recipe for disaster.

He quickly nodded and glanced into the folder again. While reading the file, he noticed something that caught his eye. "Imhotep?" he whispered, having a flash in his mind, a fragment of memory. He'd met this man in the past, no doubt of it. But when before this ancient Egyptian had been buried was the question. Van Helsing frowned. If he knew the man who was the focal point of keeping an eye on Hamunaptra, then he had to take the mission. It would not only ensure that things didn't go wrong, but he would find more of his past that he still had not recalled.

"Best get you the gear you'll need," Carl remarked while getting up from his seat and heading for the door. "I suggest that you keep that file on you, just to make sure Richelieu doesn't get any bright ideas."

Van Helsing nodded and followed as Carl unlocked and opened the office door. Now heading back into the depths of the armory, the two men walked past the forges and testing spaces. Gabriel still remembered when this was Carl's primary job here at the Templar, working in creating the cutting edge of weapons technology, when he wasn't ranting about his brother. But, even with the rising in position, Carl still did his best to stay where he felt most at home; building the best weapons, and causing explosions.

"I've been working of a few things for you that might catch your fancy," he said while stepping over to his familiar old work space. He hefted up a large bag, set it on the table, then undid the buckles and ties and rolled it open to reveal the firearms and weapons that were held inside. Van Helsing's eyes were staring in envy, something Carl much expected whenever showing off much of his work. "This," he continued, pulling out a stocky rifle device that had a crackling sphere piece on the stock, "is a telluric bolt rifle. In essence, it's a lightning gun, allowing you to fire electric charges at your target and give them one nasty shock."

Van Helsing grasped the rifle and aimed it, testing the grip and how it felt. A bit heavy, but for something so radical a weapon, it came as no surprise. "Good for catching them alive, I'd imagine," he remarked while handing the rifle back to Carl.

A shrug while he slipped the bolt rifle back into its holders in the bag. "Yes, though I don't count much on you needing a live capture on this mission." Now lifting up what looked to be a metal arm guard, Carl slipped it on his own wrist and gripped the palm piece tightly, then pressed something on the grip. Instantly, a metal blade shot out about a foot and a half. Carl noticed the smile on Van Helsing's face, then pressed the button again to retract the blade. "Handy for close quarters," he said while taking the guard piece off and sliding it back into the bag. "Most everything else is normal weapons with a lot of modifications. Extra ammunition capacity, heat sinks, added parts for better accuracy..."

"The usual upgrades," Gabriel quipped, rolling the bag back up and locking it. "It'll go nice with my other one." Grinning, he picked the bag up and slung it over his shoulder before heading off. Carl was quick to follow, because he wasn't quite finished yet.

"By the way," he began, now walking alongside his old friend. "You do intend to take a more usable close combat weapon. As much as the wrist blade will help, it's only good for a quick attack, not extended combat."

His left hand slipped into his coat, now at last drawing out the Corvinus sword. "I'm prepared for that," Gabriel replied, then slipped the blade back into his coat. "Anna and Velkan decided to give me Adrian's sword, and who was I to refuse her?" He headed up the stairwell, his eyes catching sight of Richelieu talking to one of his favorite lackies. The faster he got out of here, the better. "I still need to gather some extra cloths, can't go walking around the desert like this."

Carl nodded, but there was also a resound sigh. Van Helsing paused at the entrance to the basilica, turning to face his aged friend. Something was wrong. "I really wish I could go out there with you," he said at last, confirming Gabriel's suspicions. "I miss the field now, being stuck here all the time." Again, he sighed. "But, I'm no Abraham Van Helsing, now am I?"

Gabriel gave a weak smile. Carl had no idea how wrong he was in that statement. "He always spoke about you taking over for him," he said, patting Carl on the back. "Personally, I think you exceeded his expectations. He may have treated me like a son, but you are his heir to the throne, Carl." He chuckled, now bringing up what had always struck him as amusing. "In fact, you even look a bit like him."

Seward looked into Van Helsing's eyes, then smiled. His friend was right, the professor always had driven him on like he was being prepared to take over. Granted, he'd like to have heard old Abraham say it himself, but maybe it was for the best he hadn't. If Carl had known, he might not have been so determined. Maybe that old rivalry he'd held against Gabriel had been a good thing after all. "Flattery won't do you any good here," he at last said, but he was more uplifted now. "You best get going, before Richelieu figures out that I went over his little red satin cap."

Gabriel nodded, opening the secret door while Carl headed back down into the caverns. He quickly stepped out and shut the wall, now heading down the hall and into the main chamber of the church. Morning services had ended, he noticed as he headed for the main doors. Somehow, this place, which once had brought him comfort forty years ago, now held little for him. Certainly, the Gregorian chants brought little comfort, ever since he'd discovered who and what he was four decades prior. Sometimes, Van Helsing wondered how he had ever found a sense of peace here. As of late, he felt nothing here, a sense of emptiness, separation. Carl was about the only thing left here that brought him any sense of pleasure.

He walked across the square toward the Vatican Palace. More a collection of connection buildings than an actual single structure, the palace represented numerous points in Italy's history. Within were thousands of rooms, including the residence of Pope Pius XI himself and offices for much of the Church's hierarchy. That was not counting in the Vatican library, numerous museums, archives, and some sections with purposes he only guessed at.

And in one part of that collection of buildings were his own quarters. Van Helsing briskly walked up the stairs and entered the complex, noting that, even if it was a bit early still, people were scurrying about. Most managed to be looking elsewhere as he passed by, few even meeting his gaze as he strode down the marble floor. No doubt, they feared him, for more reasons than one. Certainly, his position as the greatest agent of the Templar made him infamous within the walls of the Vatican, and the revelation of his angelic nature had only served to bolster that notoriety.

But perhaps the reputation that was the main source of his social exile went beyond his infamous name. If anything, these people wanted to avoid associating with a man who was, in essence, the Vatican's trash collector. Particularly when he was cleaning up their trash at times.

The professor had once told him that people feared what they did not understand, and since not many understood him, it was no wonder they feared him. Sadly, it went beyond fear, so perhaps it was no surprise that in the last four decades, Gabriel Van Helsing had become increasingly distant from those who were supposedly his compatriots.

Reaching his quarters, Gabriel quickly opened the door and walked inside. Making sure that it was locked behind him, Van Helsing set down the weapon bag, then pulled another one from the now open closet. His instincts told him that, contrary to Carl's belief, there was going to be trouble on this mission, trouble that was going to well meet the reputation he had built up over the decades. If he'd learned anything, Gabriel knew that it was better to be over-prepared than under.