Order 45: Crossroads
Malakai's hideout. 9:00 A.M.
It was Wednesday. This was the final day, the day of reckoning for the Vatican again Malakai and his kind. Malakai sulked in a corner with the eyes of a dangerous wolf. Before him, his vampires danced in their fiendish ways, screeching and hissing at one another in practice. Skey sat beside him silent as the grave so to speak. From the corner of his eyes, he could see how intense her eyes were, how the eyebrows drew together and the scowl was rigid and hard as stone. Did she continue to scorn Anderson and the Iscariot hounds or did she continue to scorn himself and the vampires? Malakai reached his sleeved arm over, the cold black leather of the glove grazing the gentle cheek of Skey's. The scowl evaporated from her face and changed to surprise.
"That scowl doesn't suit you. You will get your revenge on the Vatican, my love, and those foolish humans who've treated you abhorringly."
The festival his fellow vampires were having echoed all around the two beings. Skey stood and behind her so did Malakai, the darkest of dead shadows. His arms secured around her waist as he pressed against her, looking down. Skey froze in his arms but tried pushing down the fear. Would he go on and bite her in front of these vampires as a sort of show? No, he didn't do such a thing but only whispered like the gentle night wind in her ear the promises of riches and the most enjoyable physical pleasures. The sweetness of his words were all too convincing for her. Being Catholic, a part of Iscariot, a vampire hunter...none of this occured to her now. All that did was the melting touch Malakai possessed. The way he stroked her curved hips, the way those cold but soft lips played upon her throat and shoulders, this was the best she thought she could ever feel. To be in the arms of such a gentleman as she saw him now, the vision of his being a killer evading her conscious. It was just what Malakai wanted. For her to swoon under his charm and to submit to his whim. Malakai then turned her around, pressing her smaller body close, towering over her. With the smile of perfection, looking like carved marble, he bent his head down and kissed her deeply. For such cold lips, it set ablaze such a fire in Skey. Her hand reached up slowly, making its way through the long, silky, black hair. This moment, the one of heated passion built by the enemy, made her forget everything that had been dear to her. Yet, in her heart of hearts, his kiss was rancid.
The Vatican. 10:00 A.M.
Prayers had been said, and combatants of both Iscariot and Hellsing had been positioned. It was a very uncanny sight to see such heavily armed men standing at posts around the Vatican and with the most unusual weapons as well! The premises had been evacuated and closed to the public for the day. Only the worn, weathered faces of senior hunters stood on the grounds with a mix of plain priests in black. These particular guards stood like masses of stone as the statues in the Vatican did. It was a sight to see. Down one of the many halls of the Vatican, walked Maxwell. He appeared to be a different Maxwell than before. More collected, more deeper in thought and even worn out himself. This would have been a different story if it had been the Hellsing Organization or even in another country but the fact these vampires did so much as to dare to bring the battle directly to the Vatican, it was something ones like he feared the most out of all other possibilities. Heinkel followed behind him loyally, not speaking a word as Maxwell walked with a steady step, each as heavy as each of his worried thoughts. It uneased Heinkel that Maxwell was so unearthed about this situation. In any organization, even organized crime, the lower ranks always counted on their boss to be cool headed and not shaken by any circumstance, and when a boss becomes shaken, so does everyone following him or working for him.
Anderson had been preparing himself for the battle. Over and over, he performed his bayonet dances in the lonely, cold training room, not leaving a moment's hesitation to invite a flaw. The florescent light high above him came off as barren, showing for Anderson the dull grey room. Anderson stopped and sat down, breathing heavily. It's been a straight hour of rigid training, of burning off all the anger at himself. Many a vampire had suffered Anderson's blinding wrath, but now it was Anderson himself who faced his own wrath. Knowing how badly he had messed things up, he had no one in sight to blame but himself. As punishment, deemed onto him by his own decision, he pushed and pushed himself to the point of exhaustion. Exhaustion. A little chuckle escaped as he gave thought to that word. Skey would always push herself, always claiming she had to be stronger. What both didn't realize was before you strengthen your body, you had to strengthen your heart. It didn't happen over night, but over a period of precious time. Both of them were at fault, always concentrating on the strengthening of their bodies rather than their minds and heart. But such was the actual teachings of Catholicism when you thought deep about it. Priests were made to abandon all forms of affection and love, and taught to focus only on their salvation, on the church and its goals. Anderson could remember this being taught to him so long ago. Once all the people in this church were human, had felt emotions and feelings, had desires and wants in their lives. Wasn't it only human to have those feelings in your heart? God had made them all and made them with freedom of choice. He also wanted his children to have emotions to have feelings, didn't he? One can see this as futile. God gave you a heart and emotions, then you believe you must throw all of that away to worship Him?
"It's nae worth it...tae sacrifice such ae thing tha' God gave ye."
Everyone had their own roads to go by. It's choices in our life which influence what turns or stops we'll make. Everyone...Skey, Anderson and Malakai, have chosen their roads and this way the day these three very different routes will meet at a point.
