Disclaimer: I don't own Hellsing. I'm SO poor... Waaaaaah!

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Iscariot's Secret Weapon

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"Prepare to die, ye demonic wench!"

Seras was cowering in the refrigerated section of the supermarket, and NOT from the cold! She had lived in mortal fear of Father Alexander Anderson ever since their first encounter, a meeting which had left her with a long scar on both sides of her neck. Every time her unit was deployed in an area with a large Catholic population, she always kept a close eye out for the sadistic priest. After all, their next rendevous could be her last! However, the local grocery store had somehow slipped her mind as a hangout for murderous paladins...

"Heh heh heh..." Anderson chuckled as he towered over the petite vampiress. "I never figured on meeting you here, lass. Dannae matter, though. In fact, I'm a little glad we ran into each other. Yoor going to be the first victim o' ma new vampire-slaying tool!"

"Y-you don't say..." Seras gulped, clutching her grocery bag tightly.

"Oh, but ah do!" he laughed maniacally. "Any last words, Draculina?"

Seras fidgeted for a second before speaking. "Well, I rather wish Sir Integra had come and bought this orange juice herself... I suppose that's all..."

"Good enough!" the priest replied. "Now, behold ma newest, holiest weapon!"

He reached menacingly into his long overcoat...

"Oh, great!" Seras cringed. "What is it this time? A machete? A spear? A broadsword? What does it matter? Whatever it is, he's about to impale me with it!"

...and pulled out a large, silver hammer.

"This holy mallet is a divine instrument of punishment!" Anderson bellowed as he waved it around in the air. "'Tis made is pure silver, recovered from the catacombs at Rome. Ma boss, Maxwell, personally crafted it for me to smite evil demons such as yourself! Now, prepare to be sent to the neenth level o' Hades!"

Anderson was shocked to find his pretty-much-doomed victim snickering at him! "What, may ah ask, is so damn funny?" he spat.

"It--it's nothing," Seras fibbed.

The paladin looked slightly annoyed. "Don't lie to a priest, lass! Yee've got enough going again' your soul as is. Now tell me: what about being bludgeoned to death with this 'ere mallet has you so amused?"

"Well..." Seras hesitated. "You said Mr. Maxwell made it for you, right? That makes it Maxwell's Silver Hammer!"

"Ahhhhhhh... I'm afraid I doon't understand ye..." Anderson muttered, scratching his head.

"You know!" she grinned. "Like in the Beatles song!"

With that, she cleared her throat and began singing:

"Joan was quizzical; studied pataphysical
Science in the home.
Late nights all alone with a test tube.
Oh, oh, oh, oh."

"Oh, yeah!" Anderson laughed. "I remember that one!"

He joined in (albeit with a heavy Scottish accent) for the second verse:

"Maxwell Edison, majoring in medicine,
Calls her on the phone.
'Can I take you out to the pictures,
Joa, oa, oa, oan?'"

Both the priest and the vampiress were really getting into it by this point, and sang the last verse in unison:

"But as she's getting ready to go,
A knock comes on the door.

Bang! Bang! Maxwell's silver hammer
Came down upon her head.
Bang! Bang! Maxwell's silver hammer
Made sure that she was dead."

By the time they had finished, both of them were laughing heartily.

"Ooooh, it's been a long time since ah've heard that song!" Anderson smiled. Taking another look at the shiny mallet, he began laughing again. "This is a stupid weapon, isn't it? What was ma boss thinkin'? Hahaha!"

"Well, it's pretty bloody silly, I'll grant you that!" Seras giggled.

Anderson placed the hammer back inside his coat, and turned toward the police girl with a smile on his face. "Ah, damn it! Now I'm in too good a mood to slay ye! Well, I can always kill you later, I suppose. Tell your master I said hello, and that I look forward to mounting his ugly mug on ma wall."

"I'll be sure to tell him!" Seras laughed nervously. "Well, goodbye, Mr. Anderson!"

"Via con Dios, lass!" he remarked as she hurried away.

Alexander Anderson was about to make his exit as well, when a horrified scream stopped him. "M-my iceboxes! What have you done?"

Anderson turned around to see the enraged store owner standing next to a heap of broken glass and spilled foodstuffs. The priest blushed a deep crimson.

"Maybe I got a wee bit carried away with the hammer while I was a' singing..."

THE END

Extra Disclaimer: I don't own the song "Maxwell's Silver Hammer". The Beatles do.

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