Disclaimer: I do not own Hellsing, Piggy the 2nd does. I do not own The Quest for the Holy Grail, Monty Python does. Sue me not.
Author's Thanks: To Boemkool, for helping me with some German and dirty names for German people. And to my beta, Cait-hime-sama-dono.
French Knight
Nighttime surrounds the Hellsing mansion. A strange nighttime; a nighttime of war and bloodshed. The cool air is heated by a mightywall of fire created by a gigantic zeppelin, its gutted body which crushed into the seemingly endless grass stretches around the mansion, setting the night aflame.
A vampire girl atop the mansion pulls down the impossible piles of cannons and bazookas off her inhumanly strong shoulders and begins her return to her home and fort.
Inside, a single French man sits in the spacious control room, its walls covered in television monitors, its desks piled with communication gadgets. Leaning lazily in his commanding chair, he speaks to his men.
"Captain!" the brave vampire calls to the Frenchman.
"You get dow 'ere and re-equip, girl. Change your gear! 'urry!
"ze're coming." He says through the cigarette he languidly holds between his lips, "foreplay's over. Now it's our turn."
He leans forward, savoring the momentum of his words. His long braid slips forward down his shoulder between the epaulet and his somewhat shabby collar. "Watch closely, girl. We'll show you 'ow geese fight."
Outside the mansion the zeppelin's last remains are taken apart by a great explosion, lighting up the night like a new sun. Flame tongues spasm upwards, engulfing all that was once airborne and horrid.
The fires light a large force of troops, undead, faces covered, eyes blazing, uniforms the world forgot for fifty years. All were standing still in the heated field, awaiting their commander's words.
Their commander, a tall, rogue, brawny woman in a tight black vest and wide pants, wielding a huge scythe, stands amongst them, shortly cropped blond hair blown by the wild fire's scorching wind, pondering silently, her shoulders predatorily hunched.
"Ve have forty-two remaining troops!" cries one of the undead men.
"Those rounds vere not regular issue." Another soldier speaks to better comprehend what brought their aircraft down. "Ve lost more than half our number und all of our heavy veaponry."
The commander remains soundless.
Her men turn to her. "But our morale ist high! Give us orders! Lieutenant Zorin Blitz!"
She awakens. "Good enough. It's good enough that ve kill them all!" She begins marching forward, towards the fortified castle.
Her men follow her.
"Kill them. Kill all of them."
They march all the way up to the back gates, feverish evil minds bent on destruction and strife, when a single man pops his head out over the rooftop.
He has a wide-brimmed hat, under it is his wild wheat colored hair, tied in a braid which blows madly on the powerful evening wind like a bright snake. One eye of his is blind, the other stares calmly down at the enemy.
His voice comes out cheerful and melodic, as if a friendly neighbor knocked on his door and he answers, "'Allo! Who is 'eet?"
The vampire group, stopped by their commander, await her answer.
She steps forward. "It is Lieutenant Zorin Blitz, and these are my heralds of warriors of the Letztes Battalion. This ist the mansion of the Hellsing organization, ist it not?"
The Frenchman stays as he is, though the enemy's commander's voice is harsh and her words filled with scorn and hate, "This is the castle of my master, Integral Fairbrook Vingates Hellsing!"
A malicious, nefarious grin stretches on the half tattooed face of the commander. "Go and tell your men that ve haf come to slay zem and feast on zeir bloody corpses, zen destroy your headquarters.
"If you vish to betray your master and become one of us you can join us in our quest of our kommandant's var. Your men vill join us and storm in a bigger midian army onto the glorious bloodbath and become immortal."
Cocking his head a bit, Pip pondered the offer for a moment before shrugging, "Well, I'll ask 'zem, but 'a don't think we'll be very keen... Uh, we've already got an army of immortal midians, you 'zee?"
Zorin blinked, "Vas?"
A soldier tipped himself sideways to be in her earshot. "He says zey've already got an army of immortal midians!"
"Zat ist impossible! Our intelligence sources reported only two vampires, not an army of zem!" she ground her pointy teeth for a moment before turning back to speak with Pip.
"Are you sure you've got an army of immortal midians?"
Pip nodded enthusiastically, "'O, yes, they're very nice-a."
Seras Victoria popped her head out of the rooftop's door, hanging baffled eyes at the commander.
Glitters of amusement in his uncovered eye, Pip whispered to her, "I told her we've already got an army of immortal midians."
They sniggered.
Down in the field, confusion ran rampant on the enemy line and discipline was beginning to loosen.
Zorin had to say something, anything, to keep them quiet and reinforce her authority, "Vell, um, can ve come up and have a look?"
The Frenchman's face darkened, "Of course not! You are vampire types-a!"
If they have an army of midians, why is he calling them 'vampires' like it's a bad thing! Zorin was getting very angry, "Vell, vhat are you zen?"
"I'm French! Why do think I have this outrrrrrrrrageous accent, you silly dyke!"
"Vat are you doing in England!"
"Mind your own business!"
Talking, Zorin just realized, is not the sort of thing her commanders meant when they taught her how to kill men by using her rifle to turn them into human riddle and then (literally) going for their throats.
Goddamn it, they came her to make bloody war, did they not! The man on the rooftop was obviously not a vampire and neither were the rest of his comrades in the mansion.
"If you vill not betray your master and join us in eternal life, var and carnage, ve shall take your castle by force!"
Pip leaned forward over the railing and hollered at the lines of foes below, "You don't frighten us, Tabton pig-dogs! Go 'an boil your bottoms, sons of a silly person. I blow my nose at your, so-called Major-Piggy, you and your silly kraut sssssss-oldiers."
He then moved his open palms to the sides of his head, planted his thumbs in his ears, twirled his fingers, poked his tongue out and made unmentionable noises at the vampires below.
Below, the Hun vampires gawked at the man.
"Vat a strange person," said one.
"Now look here, you!" Zorin finally exploded, her voice shrilling.
"I don't want to talk to you no more, you empty-headed animal food trough wiper!" The French mercenary cut her shouts short, "I fart in your general direction! You mother was a hamster and your father smelt of sauerkraut!"
One of the enemy men tries to speak instead of his commander who, at the moment, is too busy trying not to pop too many veins, "Ist there someone else up zere ve could talk to?"
"No, now go away or I shall taunt you a second time-a!"
Zorin takes a deep breath, calms herself, recalls the odds are tipped towards her force, and recalculates.
"Now, this ist your last chance." She speaks up again. "I've been more zan reasonable." She clutches her scythe powerfully.
Calmly, Pip turns to Victoria by his side, "Fetchez la vache!"
The young vampire has been trying very hard not too laugh too loudly at the conversation she just witnessed and takes a while to calm down, "'Parden?"
"Fetch the cow!"
The fact that both the strange Frenchman and the vampire by his side disappeared from the rooftop for a few moments did not go unnoticed by Zorin. She turned to her men and gave them a long, pompous speech, promising them every drop of blood the mansion's defenders hold in their bodies as reward for the treatment they had to endure so far and reminding them of the Major's mighty promises of fun and bloodbath in England.
Finally, as her men were again up and ready for battle, she turned one last time to the Frenchman high on his lofty rooftop (once more he was perched there as casually as ever). Her voice was steady now and heavy with bloodlust and courage. "If you do not agree to my commands, zen I shall…"
Twong.
"Mooooooo."
Eyeing the unusually airborne lactating mammal's course towards her company, Zorin bellowed, "Heilige scheisse!Attacke!"
"Attacke!"
Twong.
A hail of farm animals rained down at the attacking nazi vampires until the sounds of the animals' quacking, mooing, howling, cackling, shrieking calls deafened the ears of the Hellsing enemies. Before the beasts actually hit them, their litter did and if that wasn't enough, soon their feathery, leathery, filthy bodies landed powerfully on the oncoming troops.
"Run avay! Run avay!"
This time Victoria joined Pip in his twiddling of fingers, sticking out of tongues and raspberry sounds making as the two of them observed the enemy escaping in panic and shame.
(The End)