Hellsing: Red Plague.

Author's Note: I AM BACK PEOPLES! Yes, I know this isn't Diablo, but rest assured that the beginning of the Second Act of Diablo IS in the works...If you are curious where I have been, please be sure to check out Diablo- Epic Behind the game on Friday, May 12th.
Until then, I offer a humble new story that I hope will garner just as much love. I now present this token offering before Diablo... I present Hellsing: Red Plague.

Hellsing: Red Plague.

Chapter Two: Enter New Player: Harker

: March 10th:
: England- Hellsing Agency Headquarters:

: 3:20 AM:

Sir Integra Hellsing, Diretor of the Hellsing Agency, shook her head as she lit a new cigar. The night outside her window was calm and peaceful, not a cloud in the starry, new moon sky.

Unfortunatly, the earlier event with Alucard and Seras had been more than a little disturbing. It was too bad really, it had been quiet since the "London Attack" Incident and the last remnants of the last great war were finally wiped out for good.

They had been enjoying the peace and quite here in Helsing manor for several months while London itself was being rebuilt. Now it seemed, that relaxation had caused them to miss something.

"Anything yet, Walter?" Integra asked, the speaker phone on her desk, irritation in her voice. It had already been several hours and she was no better informed than she had been when she laid down her Royal Flush against Alucard.

"Very little, Sir Hellsing." Walter answered in his usual defenitive manner. "All seems quiet on the british front. All law enforcement and military offices report nothing out of the ordinary."

"Ireland?" The Director asked, trying to get an idea of all the areas under her protection.

"The Northern Ireland Hellsing Office has been put on alert, but reports no supernatural activity. Likewise, security has been tightened along both the borders and in the cities. We will know the moment something happens on either of the british isles."

Integra shook her head.

There was something that they were missing.

It took more than nothing to put a vampire on the ground writing in pain. And it must have taken something rather "substancial" to unnerve the normally stone hearted and steel nerved No Life King.
A thought came to mind...perhaps Integra Hellsing was thinking on too small of a scale.

"What about global events? Anything significant in the last fourty-eight hours?"

"Well, I thought you would never ask Sir Hellsing." Integra could hear the distinct moving of papers... Good old Walter, always one step ahead of her and five ahead of everyone else.
"Southern China experienced several food riots in their major cities, including Hong Kong and Beigjing, several of the riots were put down by force and resulted in heavy casualities..."

"Tell me something relevant to OUR situation Walter."

"Oh all right. As far as I can tell in Europe, nothing major has happened. Same in America, I do believe everyone is still somewhat shaken up from that "Nazi Incident" several months ago. There is still massive reconstruction happening in the countries hardest hit."

"Alright then," Integra sagged when she realized she had already gone though one cigar and was reaching for another. Too wrapped up in attempting to solve this odd puzzle, she let her habit overwhelm her and lit another cigar.
"How about our "Friends" In Rome?"

"Ah, getting the information now from both our Vatican Attache and my own sources. From what I can see, The Pope, most of the world's Cardnals, and the rest of the 'higher ups' in the Vatican are currently in Rome. As far as I can tell, this includes Iscariot's Father Enrico Maxwell..."

Integra rolled her eyes at the name, but said nothing, allowing Walter to continue.

"However...oh yes..this is interesting; It seems that my sources have uncovered some sort of activity. It appears that three Iscariot Silencing Units and four Heritic Specialist were dispatched by plane an hour ago. From all the information that has been gathered, we suspect that they should be landing in Cairo, Egypt within the next hour."

THIS made Integra raise an eyebrow. This was the sort of information she had been looking for.

A standard Silencing Unit was made up of Twelve fanatical, self-justified killers with a substansal amount of military training and heavy weaponry. Their singular purpose was to act as the Vatican's strong arm when facing organized enemies and armies.

Just the fact that Father Enrico Maxwell, Head of Iscariot, had sent over thrity-six Iscariot soldiers into non-catholic territory rose suspition.

The fact that they were lead by FOUR heritic Specialist; Elite Vatican-Sanctioned Assassins, sent up a signal flare brighter than the sun.
Integra was as familiar with Special Agency: Iscariot's procedure as any outsider alive and knew that Heritic Specialist were only called in against the most dangerous of mortal enemies. Terrorist, Cult Leaders, and Influencial Political extremist were their most common targets and the Vatican normally took great care in selecting the right agent for the job. What was most strange about this was that Heritic Specialist almost always worked in pairs and without any sort of support. And even with their lack of numbers, it was VERY rare for a Heritic Specialist to be killed on assignment.
Why would two Heritic Specialist teams be assigned the same mission and be given command of thirty six soldiers? Surely the Vatican was as hurt for human resources as Hellsing, after all, they too had suffered in The "Nazi Attack". They would not waste resources or their soldier's time unless it was important.

What could have possibly caught Iscariot's eye in the Land of the Pharohs?

"In anticipation of your next question..." Walter's voice over the speaker phone broke Integra's train of thought. "The Priest in charge of the operation is one "Father Tyler Rex" And there is no word out of Eygptian Authorities of any murders that follow vampiric profiles or imprisioning of any Vatican Officals. In other words, we have no idea why Iscariot is moving."

Integra sighed again.
Walter's sources were good, very good to have gotten this sort of information this fast. But they were still outside the vatican's walls looking in.

"What about 'The Paladin', Walter?"

"Father Alexander Anderson is currently in a small village north of Rome."

Integra breathed in her cigar quickly as she pondered this. If the Regenrator, Iscariot's greatest weapon, was not being used, that ruled out vampires, werewolves, or (heaven forbid) deamons.

But still, what ever Iscariot was after must have been dangerous to send so many men. And ANYTHING that put Alucard on edge had to be big.

What frustrated her most was that the Vatican might know something if they were sending so many troops. They HAD to know something.
Now, Hellsing had to know what they were after.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

:Cairo, Egypt- St. Luke's Charity Hospital:

: 5:20 AM:

"I am telling you, Father." Dr. Salt said sternly, growing intesnly frustrated by what was fast becoming an inquisition. "I never saw this man before last night and I DON'T know where he went."

"Indeed!" Father Montgumery, who was also losing patience, insisted. "Forgive me, Father Rex, but I called you because we saw him HERE! We do not know where we went after he left."

"You saw him..." Father Tyler Rex, a routund yet agile looking man with salt and pepper hair and a chisled face, inspected the doctor and fellow man of the cloth. "... But you did not attempt to 'detain' him?"

Once again, Dr. Salt was lost. Between the inquisition and the manner to which they refered to the long since departed Jonahan Harker, he was getting the impression that he was some sort of criminal or worse, a terrorist.

But if that was true, then why bother to contact the Priesthood rather than the Eygptian authorities or Interpol perhaps.

"ASIDE from the fact that it is not our place to detain anybody and I highly doubt we would have been very effective..." Father Montgumery answered sharply. "This is a humanitarian hospital, set in place and Concencrated by his Holiness PERSONALLY over thirty years ago. We operate and continue operation under his blessings."

At this, Father Rex deflated visibily.

"Yes... forgive me Father." He apologized with a low bow, "It is just that this is a... very sensitive subject."

"Apparently..." Dr. Salt's comment oozed with sarcasm. The good doctor did not like being left in the dark.

It did not help ease his distaste when one of the 'priests' that had come with Father Rex came out of the patients hospice. This priest looked strange and contrasted with his long, free flowing dark hair and his face an unshowing stone mask.

"Wha...What were you doing back there?"

"Forgive me doctor," The priest nodded his head slightly to Dr. Salt, his voice tinged with a hint of apology. "I merely had a few questions for your patient."

"I thought I said she was not ready for visitors. Besides, I doubt that she could help you very much since she doesn't speak English."

"I am a man of many talents." The preist smiled warmly as he moved around the room until he stood behind Father Rex, placing a hand on his shoulder. "However you are correct, she knew nothing and I left her to rest."

"Well then," Father Rex shrugged, a new shine in his eyes "I suppose that is all that we can do now. We shall leave you to your hospital, and I do apologize for the inconvenience."

Without another word, the two priests of the Vatican, the agents of the special agency Iscariot, swept out of St. Luke's Charity Hospital and onto the streets of Cairo.

Doctor Salt grimaced as they left.
"What was that about?" the doctor asked, turning and heading into the patients hospice to check on his young patient.

"To be honest, I'm not all that sure myself." Father Montgumery told the doctor, walking with him until they reached the young girl's bedside.
She was asleep now, resting while her casted, crushed arm on her chest.

But what drew the doctor's attention was not her tended injuries... but the small red splotches that dotted her face.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"What did you learn?" Father Rex asked his subordient.

"Father Maxwell was right." the younger Iscariot soldier answered. "It was Harker. He was hunting vampires and the girl was caught up in the fight. Something about a 'ritual'. She didn't seem to understand what was going on around her."

"That is for the better, She might be able to get on with her life." Rex wiped his brow. Damn that man. That... heritic. Bringing innocents into the battle to make himself seem more the hero.
"Do we know where he is now?"

The Iscariot soldier brought a hand up to his right ear, focusing on the reports that came though the comunicator in his ear, hidden behind his hair.

"Our main team reports that they have Harker on a surveillance tape at the airport boarding a plane to Brazil less that an hour ago."

"South America again?" Rex was more than a little surprised. "He already has the death penalty on his head in two South American countries, why the hell woud he head back there?"

"Last place we would look for him?" The soldier asked.

"He's not one to run away." Rex thought for a moment. He had been playing this game of cat and mouse with the heritic for over three years. "The bastard must be looking for something in Brazil"

"Do we pursue?"

"Absolutely." Rex smirked. This time, they would be able to catch him. Now all of the time that he had spent tracking and studying his prey would pay off.

"Should we alert Interpol as well, Father Rex?" The soldier asked suddenly. "Iscariot is not the only agency that wants to find him."

"No... This is a matter left between us and the Heritic.. they will not understand." Rex shook his head. There was more to it of course, for him...this was personal. "Get the entire force to the airport, we leave at once."

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

"They are probably gathering their forces and heading to Brazil now." Jonathan Harker uttered amusedly under his breath quietely as his plane touched down.

If Iscariot had sent Rex, then the Red-Headed hunter knew that the pudgy Iscariot bastard wouldn't think twice about the chance to corner him in a land where he was a known public enemy.
Rex's reasoning would be that South America would be the LAST place that his nemisis would return, and thus was the best place to find him.
But Rex would be wrong of course, as always... there was ONE place that hated him more.

"We are now landing atLeonardo Da Vinci International Airport, The local time is 7:33am" The captain's voice came from overhead, prompting Harker to close and shut down his laptop as the plane skitted to a halt.
Harker paused for a moment and tugged at the white collar around his neck as he thought about what he had come to do. He didn't like coming back and asking for help like this, and every fiber of his being told the vampire hunter that there was NO chance that he would even be able to MAKE his request without somebody dying a horrible bloody death. And that same fiber told Harker that he would likely be fleeing for the border and away from Iscariot and Interpol alike before the day was out.

And yet in that one corner of his mind, there was the part that couldn't wait to see how it turned out.

"We are disembarking, Father. Would you like some help with your case?" A flight attendent asked him in Italian, smiling warmly and trying not to blush.
Harker had to stop himself from cringing at the title...That was the worse part of this particular disguise...well, aside from REALLY pissing the Vatican off when he did it.

"No, thank you." Harker replied in English, not surprised when the young lady looked inquisitively at him, prompting him to switch his language.

"No...I am fine, thank you" He re-iterated in a rough Italian, standing up and taking the large metal case out of the overhead compartment.

"We hope you enjoyed your flight, Father." The attendent nodded and smiled again, "And that you will fly with us again."

'Yeah...sure, ASSUMING there is a next time for me.' Harker thought, nodding politely and heading for the exit, getting nods and minor bits of praise and blessing. Getting past the customs agents was no problem at all because of the black outfit and white collar that he so disrespectfully wore as he headed for the heart of Catholic power...

Rome.

He had an old friend to visit.

--------------------------------------------------------

:The Vatican City, Rome Italy:

:Office of Father Enrico Maxwell, Director of Iscariot XIII:

: 8:05am:

"How can you justify sending over fourty of our champions away from here?" Archadius, High Cardinal of Rome, had difficulty keeping the outrage from his voice as his hands gripped the mohagony desk. Stairing back at him, with a smug assuredness that had so often unnerved the cardnial acting in full force, Father Maxwell, still recovering from his 'near-disasterous' assualt on the unholy forces that attacked Britain simply shrugged.

The near death experience had done little to curb his arrogence it seemed.

"Our Justification is apparent in our Lords work. With greater matters settled, I would not expect that you would object to our reigning in a known terrorist and heritic." Maxwell remarked, stifling a coughing sputter as he guestered for the Cardnial to take the unfilled seat in front of the desk, beside the much younger priest that had also come.

"You have a gift for such things of course..." The elder cardinal started. "...But even you must admit, Father Maxwell, that this movement is paramount to 'Overkill'. So much? For one man...and not even a vampire?"

"I merely wish to assure that there are no margins for error." Maxwell stood, pulling a crutch from the side of his desk to aid in his standing. "We have had 'incidents' with this particular enemy before and I assure you, 40 men is a fraction of what I would send if Iscariot had not suffered so in our last engagement."

"Who is this man?" The younger priest, Father Richard Bendict by name, asked.

Maxwell smiled. Father Bendict had only recently become a part of the inner circle that knew of Iscariot's existance within the priesthood and was still somewhat shocked by the fact that the Chatholic HAD an elite death dealing task force.

"Johnathan Harker...a very Dangerous individual indeed." Maxwell pulled him self back to a desk and pulled a file from the top, handing it to Father Bendict who opened and pursed the contained material.

After a moment of reading...he balked.

"I..Is this 'THE' Johnathan Harker?" Bendict asked, "From 'Bram Stoker' Dracula?"

"Oh no, of course not." Maxwell shook his head as he leaned against his desk. "The original Johnathan Harker was born in London circa 1860 and was killed in America 1896. In 1904, his second son, also named Johnathan, took up what then became the family trade."

"Family Trade?" Bendict looked up, already suspecting the answer.

"Vampire Hunting."

"Ah."

"In the past, The Harker family has proven to be valuable allies and up until about 4 years ago, we had one as a fully fledged and star member of Iscariot."

"Alright...so what happened?" Bendict asked, flipping though the file.

"The torch was passed." Maxwell answered, "Johnathan Harker the fourth was slain on assignment and his offspring took the family in a very different direction."

"He is a Heritic..." Cardinal Archadius closed his eyes, his arms crossed in frustration. "A wild cannon, a renegade who first went against the direct wishes of the Pope himself and then broke from Iscariot altogether to pursue his own ends though whatever unholy way he could. Pagan Magics, demonics, and only Lord knows what else. He seems well funded, although how we do not know, and is able to travel the globe almost at whim. When Iscariot has confronted him in the past..."

"We have tried to reign him in on several occasions when we have been able to find him." Maxwell interrupted, knowing that this was a sore subject for the higher ups in the Church Heirarchy. "But each such mission ended in Failure at best. Even though he is also wanted by International Police, his movements are erratic, unpredictible, and for lack of a better word...brilliant."

"If this man is so dangerous, why not send Heritic hunters, or perhaps your 'Trump-Card'."

Maxwell sighed, annoyed at having to answer such questions, but also understanding the need to do so.

"Even our finest hunters have had no luck against him and his arcane abilities. The Paladin, on the other hand, is... unsuited for this particular assignment."

----------------------------------------------------

:20 miles north of Rome, Italy:

:St. Vincint's Orphange:

: 8:20am:

" 'Ey now!" Alexander Anderson, a scarred and bespecticaled blond priest looking in his mid-fourties rushed into the fray among the young boys, pulling the larger children off of the smaller. "Wat 'ave aye told ye boies aboot feiting (translation: What have I told you boys about fighting)

"Best listen to him kids." A familiar voice came from behind Alex, his nerves suddenly launching to full awareness in these familiar surroundings. "He's ALOT meaner than he looks."

Alex chuckled to himself, knowing full and well who was behind him before he turned around to face the red-haired scoundrel.

"Ahhh...Harker." The Paladin shook his head, as much surprised as he could have been. " Eh, ye kids git yerselves inside."

"Yes Father Alex." Came the reply as all four of the children quickly retreated to the orphanage's main building.

After just a few moments, Alexander Anderson, Iscariot's Regenerator and ultimate warrior, stood face to face with a man known in Catholic Circles as "The Heritic".

"Ye know... Ye've got goots cooming back 'ere. Las' aye checked, ye were wanted dead or alive by Interpol, Just dead by word of the Pope, and ye got yerself into a bit of trouble in Peru was it? Got a bounty on yer hed there as well."

"What can I say...I'm socially inept." Harker smiled, taking a step closer to the regenerator, his demeanor surprisingly calm.

"And dey arr sa'in ye made a pact wit de devil, turnin' ta witch-craft."

"Read a few books, order some things from a wiccan catalogue and suddnely people start calling me a Warlock... -tsk-tsk- Alex, really... WITCH-Craft? I may dabble in a few arcane arts, but I am HARDLY a witch. And you taught me better than to make deals with devils."

"Ye know...Aye should tri ta detain ye at least...or kills ye at worse."

"Yeah... you should...but that would set SUCH a bad example for the children... Wouldn't it, Uncle Alex."

"Bah...bloody heritic." Anderson's mirth stolen, he crosses his arms, daring the worse from his unexpected guest.

"Awwww, Uncle Alex...that's no way to talk to your godson." Harker matched the elder's stance.

The two warriors watched each other closely, taking in each move and watching for threats. The Regenerator's legendary scowl set against a precarious smirk.

And then they both bursts out laughing.

"Ahhh, it's gud ta see ya, lad." Alexander Anderson stepped forwards, wrapping the fellow vampire hunter in a great bear hug that forced the young Harker's breath from his body. "Ye jus 'AD ta cum and sampal a bit O ol' Irish cookien, dinna cha."

"To be honest, Alex... I could have gone the rest of my life without ever seeing another peice of..."

"Aye Gots sum Haggis alrady whipped up fer brekfust." The fearless immortal smiled, releasing the red-haired hunter and making for the orphanage's main building.

"Ha...ggis..." Jonathan Harker, the fifth of his line, sighed outright, shaking his head as he followed the certifiably insane regenerator.

"Aye...ye cun tall me aboot dat 'Deamon' evraboody is sayin' crooped up in..China was it?"

"Mongolia..." Harker corrected, "Actually, Alex... I came here for a different reason."

----------------------

:St. Vincint's Orphanage, Kitchen.:

: 9:50am:

"Sue..." Alexander Anderson took a bite out of his favored dish, the sheep based sausage and onion mix cooked in the stomach of a sheep. "Aftar ye left, tha place,... wat? Blew up?"

"I'm not sure." Harker answered, his first peice of untouched Haggis LONG since cold as he had related his most recent and frustrating encounter with the group of Medians in central Eygpt. "I didn't see any explosives rigged in the complex during my walkthrough, and besides, I don't know of anything that could do what I saw. It was like the sand...swallowed the entire ruin, and shot out like a shock wave."

"An ye thinken dat this..." Anderson held up the photoes that Harker had shown him of of the enigmatic writing he had found inside the ruin. " 'As sumthin ta do wit it? Wall, aye cun undar stand dat, de Damn vamps arr tricky. But whay diddya cum hear, me lad. Ye know gud an well Maxwell wall nevar let ye use the Iscariot Databaose? An ye should be knowin' aye canna do it fur ye."

"I had to ask... I didn't have much choice..." Harker admitted, leaning back dangerously in his chair. "I have a few contacts in America that I would normally go to with questions about the occult and ancient mysteries...but after what happened..."

" It's unly been six mooths lad, Da wurld needs time ta heal, lad." Anderson's expression turned serious, his chest aching for a moment with the memory of his own part of the Battle of London. "Da Nazi Attack shook da entire civilized wurld. Lundon's jus beginnin ta rebuild an' America is tryin ta keep it's power strung. Add ta dat tha panic in Fronce, Anti-Germany riotings, an dozens O' warlards tryin to pick up da peices and duplicat wat dat damn Nazi cooked oop. Peopals arr sccared, da miltaries weakened... an ouur faith tested. An' wat's wurse, sum occultists are startin ta git it. Rumor's O Iscariot are bounding da Intarnet, ...Vampire-Lore...Deamon thesis'. Humanity is beginnin ta suspect dat de thins that go bump in da night are still thar. An dere are JUS enough left-ovars from da Nazi's armies ta prove such a thang real."

Harker stayed silent as the old warrior sighed. He knew that the regenerator was right of course, those who knew where to look could find all the evidence, and despite the various secular and divinity propaganda that the Nazi remenant was a terrorist gang of simple mortals, the rumors were not going away.
All it would take would be a few credible people to put two and two together and announce their findings to the world... Then, the fear would begin again. And the monsters that were now only the problem of a few special agencies would explode outward, the Masqurade that they had lived under broken.

An all new war of Humanity against the Super-Natural.

"Whare were ye?" Alex asked, lifting his glass.

"Japan." Harker replyed softly, his eyes diverted. By comparison to the rest of the world, the orient had suffered little, only warrenting a single Nazi Zepplin which attacked Tokyo. Aiding the local authroities and a secret society of time-forgotten Lie-Ling (spirit Hunters) who had managed to turn back the few super-natural troops the over-weight fuher had set against the Isles of the Rising Sun. But on the global scale, they had little impact against the threat, which had been defeated over the skys of London itself. He had heard rumors that Alexander Anderson, the Paladin, had been in the Heart of London, the epicenter and hardest hit target of the Nazi's. Exactly what had occurred was little more than rumor, and judging by those rumors, he knew better than to ask Anderson personally what had happened.

Although Harker knew the question was on his tongue, Alex refrained from asking weather Jonathan had fought against the threat. His merriment at his Godson's 'homecoming' stolen by memories of what had nearly happened in London. How humanity had almost fallen to a glutton hanging on to barbaric ideals of an era better forgotten.

The silence stood in the air for a moment, growing stale in the ears of Harker until he heard Alex muttering a familiar mantra.

"We are God's representatives, earthly divine agents o' divine punishment. Our mission is tor destroy down to the last wee bit of those fools who would would oppose our good."

Alex paused at the end, leaving the last word hanging in the air.

And Harker watched his eyes, keeping his silence until finally, with a sigh, the regenerator closed his declaration

"AMEN..."

"You were right, Alex." Harker shook his head, standing up and reaching for his coat. "I shouldn't have come."

Seeming chestfallen, Anderson looked up at the hunter. He was older than the regenerator cared to remember, not just in terms of his physical prowess, but also in his eyes. this so-called 'Heritic' had fought and won many battles in the short four years the two of them had been seperated. And yet the one thing that Alex felt was most important part of any who stalked the creatures of the night was still lacking.

He still lacked Faith...

"Tall me, John..." Alex folded his hands together as Harker turned to leave. " When was yer last confession?"

The question stopped Harker dead in his tracks...but he did not turn around or even look over his shoulder.

"About a lifetime ago." He answered honestly.

Alexander Anderson sighed again, his voice becoming more steady.

"Ye know I'll 'ave ta cull Maxwell when ye leave."

"I know."

"He'll try ta stup ye, prubably kill ye."

"He'll try...I know."

"Aye dunna 'ave a choice in da mattar."

"I know, Alex. Still...it was worth it to see you again."

"Aye dunna suppose sayin' yer father wouldn't approve woul'd 'elp?"

"No, it wouldn't."

"Wall den..." Alex stroked his chin for a moment, weighing the risk of what he was considering. "Ye know aye canna 'elp ye...but aye know sumone who 'MIGHT'..."

THAT got Jonathan Harker's attention, turning him to face the regenerator with a curious look in his unique purple eyes.

'The eyes are new...' Anderson thought to himself, filtering the accent in his head. 'Mayhaps a bit more than a Bit O dabbling in the Arcane'

"Tall me lad... 'ave ye evar heard O' 'Hellsing'?"

------------------------------------------

:The Vatican City, Rome Italy:

:Office of Father Enrico Maxwell, Director of Iscariot XIII:

: 10:05am:

The ringing of Father Maxwell's personal phone interrupted the continued debate and reminder of Cardinal Archadius disapproval of his actions.

"Just a moment Cardinal. Excuse me." Maxwell was glad for the interruption to this pointless meeting, which had already made him miss his daily physical training regiment.

Then he picked up the phone.

"This is Maxwell..."

Neither the Cardinal or his aid could make out the face voice on the other end of the phone...but both noted the Iscariot Director's sudden paleness as his body went rigid

"WHAT? WHEN?"

...
"YOU LET HIM LEAVE?"

Father Bendict noticed that Maxwell's freehand was cletching his cruch to the point that the stressed wood was beginning to splinter.

"WHERE DID HE GO?""NO! 'WE' will discuss this later. Stay RIGHT where you are." Maxwell slammed the phone down on the receiver, nearly breaking it before picking up the line again and dialing out, the frustration almost setting his hair on fire as his pale face began to take on a wonderful shade of purple.

"Wulfe...is Yimoko with you?"

"Good, take them as well. Tell Yimoko her sparring partner from India has come to Rome."

"I don't CARE who sees! Your orders are to stop him before he reaches Divinci International! He will likely be in a Taxi and coming in from the north."

"Now See here, Maxwell!" The cardinal stood up following the priests last directive.

"I Don't have time for debate, Cardinal. This is my perogitive! Now if you don't mind...I have to get on the phone with Interpol and Divinci International Security."

"What is going on here, Maxwell?"

Father Enrico Maxwell gritted his teeth, looking up at the pompous cardinal with obvious distaste.

"The Heritic you accused me of Overkilling slipped past our men, sent them on a wild goose chase, and is now in Rome. Now if you will excuse me...I have a job to do."

---------------------------------------------------
:Rome Italy:

: 3 miles from Divinci International Airport:

: 12:00pm:

"Are you certain you want out here, sir?" The cab driver asked in slow Italian of his American passenger, wondering why anybody who had paid for travel to the Airport would suddenly wish to get out at an abandoned textile factory.

"Absolutely." Harker answered, stepping out, his large metalic breifcase in hand as he stepped out and closed the door, not even bothering to ask for the money that he had already paid.

Eyes closed, Jonathan Harker walked up to the padlocked gate of the abandoned factory and, with a touch and word, the lock fell open, clattering into the ground and allowing the gate to squeak open.

The Taxi driver might not have noticed the three black sudans following them, but he had. And this would be a much more acceptible venue for what he knew was about to come than the Airport itself.
Refusing to Hesitate, Harker stepped into the factory grounds, quickly disappearing in the ruins of the old factory as the three vehicles ground to a halt, parking nearby as they opened up.

"He saw us..." Heinkel Wulfe, perhaps one of Iscariot's finest Heritic Specialist stepped out of the lead vehicle's driver side while his partner, the already feiry eyed oriental woman Yomokio pulled out of the passenger side.

"And you expected any less?" Yumie snapped, eager to engage. Having already having surpressed her more sensible personality, Yumiko, the beserker side of the normally sweet hearted japanese woman was steaming in a way that made even the vetran Heritic Specialist Hinkle's skin crawl. Although, given what had happened in their previous engagement with this particular target, he could not say he was surprised.

From the other two vehicles, six lower grade Iscariot guards stepped out, each dressed in casual wear concealing multiple hand-held weapons.

"No, I did not." Wulfe pulled a cigirette to his mouth, his heavy german accent flavoring his dialogue. Honestly, he had not expected the Heritic to take so long in realizing they were there...but now he realized that Harker must have been watching for a place to either slip away from the pursuiers, or to engage them on his own terms.

And given Yumie's current temperment, he CERTAINLY hoped that Harker was planning on engaging them.

"Alvight." Heinkel sighed, puffing twice on this cigerret before throwing it to the ground. "Ve move. Target is to ve killed on Sight."

"By me..." Yumie declared quietly before moving forward.

----- ---- ---- -----

"Spread out... ve find him quickly, ja." Henkile whispered as the Iscariot team cautiously entered the dark, forboding factory. Shadows mixed with the mid-day sun, creating bright and shady patches all over the floors and walls.
Certainly a dangerous place if they were ambushed.

Ever alert, Henkile looked about.
He and Yumie both had some idea of what they might expect from this advisary, having faced him before. But still, Wulfe dispised the idea of countering Harker in this environment and, had he the authority to do so, would have scrubbed the mission before following. But his orders were to stop Harker BEFORE he reached the Airport, a task made all the more daunting as they had to scrap the training of the six Iscariot guards now with them and actually track the Heritic down. It was unknown WHY Harker had taken so long to get back into Rome, but when they had finally found him getting into that Cab, Wulfe had been afraid their only option would have been to crash the Taxi, killing the innocent driver and Harker in one swoop.

He had thanked God that he had not been asked to do that.

Yumie was even more determined than ever, her usual 'devil-may-care' attitude replaced by a sneer and the obvious contempt. In her mind, she had suffered far more than Wulfe had in their last, failed attempt to capture this renegade, so it had been music to her ears when she had been given the order to use lethal force.

So poised and ready for action were the Heritic Specialist and Iscariot Guards alike, that there was not one of them that did not jump right out of their skin as the silence was shattered.

"Moths to the Flame... They burn all the same..." A familiar, sing-songy voice recited what sounded like a childrens rhyme. The sound, echoing thoughout the "Sent off to war...the knights kill for their Lord... Now they prove their faith... by fighting off a wraith..."

"rrrrrRRRRRR WHERE ARE YOU HARKER!" Yumie was unable to hold the anger in, stepping forward with her razor sharp katana in hand and eager for blood.

Wulfe stayed quiet, noting the chill in the air. It was the middle of summer, so it was likely that, using the omnipotent sounding voice as a distraction, Harker was setting something up. Looking around, he took note of the faces of the men that had come with them.
They were strangely un-nerved... one sweating bullets.

These men may not have had the training or experience to match an Iscariot Heavy team, but they were not novices to battle either.
Harker was up to something.

And exactly what became apparent a moment later when one of the men turned about, screaming and firing into what Wulfe saw as an empty stretch of abandoned factory. The others followed suit, turning and firing off multiple rounds before realizing that the area was dark and empty.

"HOLD YOUR VIRE!" Wulfe ordered turning about just in time to hear a 'snap' from above. Not wasting time to look up, Wulfe dived forward, grabbing the absorbed Yumie as he went into a roll. less than a second later, the large crate crashed into the ground, barely missing several of the guards but still pelting them with splintered wood shards.

After that, Wulfe lost all control of the situation.
One bolt of fire seemed to streak down from the ceiling, striking into the broken, empty crates and almost immediately catching the fractured boards on fire. Blinded as they were for a moment, the confusion only added to the sudden rush when the group of guards that had been thrown backward saw a red-haired man with angular features, a white shirt covered by a deep black coat, and imaculate white gloves accenting them in front of them.
Feature by feature, an exact copy of the photo they had been given of their quarry.

So of course...they opened fire.

Wulfe was stunned for a few seconds after the crate had been set on fire, the confusion only mounting as all six of the Iscariot Guards opened fire. The horror that lit up their faces when they realized not a single well-placed bullet had hit it's mark, was beyond Wulfe's sight as well as he pulled himself up, both he and Yumie seperated from the group and unable to see past the fire.
What they could hear however over the crackling of the large crate was Harker's almost lyrical voice.

"Careful boys. Dangerous toys are fun...but you could get hurt..."

What came next could only be discribed as a deafening shot, as if a dozen cannons were set off all at once in the enclosed space. Wulfe's hands went straight for his ears, grateful both that he was a bit farther away from the enormous claps of noise and that the communicator in his ear seemed to block out the sound, causing his ears to ring, but having no other real side-effect.

From what he and Yumie could see with the flames of the crate dying down now that the inital igniter had lost power, was that all six of the guards were on the ground, incapacitated as they cletched their heads.

But beyond them, there was nothing to be found.

"Ahhhhh Yumie. And Wulfe as well. Good to see you again." The voice came, a bit dampened due to the ringing in their ears, but still there... behind them.

Turning about, Wulfe with his gun at the ready and Yumie with a blade high turned about to see a empty handed, smiling, and all too friendly Jonathan Harker.

"How are you guys? I don't think we've seen each other since...India wasn't it?"

"RRAAARRRRR!" Yumie charged forward, her blade out and already cutting the air in a sophisticated kata. Wulfe took aim, his weapon pointed straight at the unmoving and easy target.

The shot was easy...
Too easy.

Sighing, Wulfe leaned off the trigger, remembering what had happened before when he had taken that 'too easy' shot at Harker last time...

His gun had blown up in his hands.

Wulfe did not understand the nature of Harker's abilities, or how he could do the things that he was doing, but he knew enough to realize that even if the gun fired, he wouldn't hit. At worse, the bullet could SOMEHOW swerve and strike Yumie.

Swearing under his breath, Wulfe went over a personal opinion in his head that he would never let go of.

"Damn...I HATE majik."

Yumie, her fury unrelenting, struck out at the unarmed Heritic, not wanting to give him a moment to react.
Down came her powerful swing.. cutting through air as the Red-Haired man nimbly dodged to the side, tapping her in the shoulder to mock the opening in her defense as he rolled aside, coming back up to his feet only two meters away.

"Ooohhh Yumie... don't tell me you are still mad about what happened in India." He cooed, his voice seeming sinceire, but in her state, Yumie took it as a verbal stab at her.

"RRRRRRRR" She growled, the blade coming up and cutting across in a blindingly intricate kata. "DAMN YOU!"

She slashed...
and he dodged...
She swiped..
and he ducked...

"You know... you COULD thank me. Or at Least try to use the blunt side...I don't like sharp things." Harker smiled playfully, going a step further to shut his eyes as he back stepped out of another slash.

Yumie was pushing for all she was worth, and yet Harker hadn't even broken a sweat. He just smiled and dodged again as she came down in what she had always considered a death-dealing spin.

Nobody could move like that...

"DAMNIT! HOLD STILL HEATHEN!" She panted, an inner part of her nagging and wondering WHY she had gained no assistance from Wulfe.

"It was JUST a kiss..." Harker shrugged in front of her, his tone apologetic.

THAT sent her off the deep end, thrashing and slashing wildly in a fashion that NO mortal man could hope to dodge.

'JUST A KISS' HE SAID? JUST A KISS? when they had met in India, He had worn her out in a twenty minute battle, slapped her blade aside in a full out fight that would have been to the death, and kissed her full on the lips, open mouthed...tongue and all.

Ironcially, her first kiss.

And what was worse...she had melted into him when he had kissed her...dropping her blade and going weak at the knees. She had actually RETURNED it! She couldn't deny that she had ENJOYED it..

And that was what had made it all the worse.

Wulfe had not told anybody about that particular part of their defeat, and she thanked him so often for that, as he was the only other witness... but now, he was mocking her so openly. Her skill seemingly USELESS against even this unarmed man. She could not even BEGIN to comprehend HOW he was dodging her impossible to mark and predict strikes.

"YUMIE! BEHIND YOU!" Wulfe's voice cried out, causing her to instinctually pull out of her slash and go into a spin.
She couldn't figure out how, but her spin was stopped as the man who had been in front of her the entire time was suddenly right behind her, so close that he was inside her swing, her arm stopped by one hand and her body movement ground to a halt when he pressed himself against her.
Unable to think or react to what her brain told her was impossible, Yumie was about to scream out when she felt a finger pushing up on her chin... followed by a warmness that defied description that suddenly pressed against her lips, making them tingle with electricity.

First...she whimpered... her rage suddenly falling away as Yumie fell from her dominence and was replaced by Yumiko. The blade clattered to the floor as strength left her and all that held her was the strong arms of the man that had been so bold.

Unable to stop herself, Yumiko melted into the man, feeling her legs go weak once more.

And then... blackness enveloped her world as she lost consiousness.

Harker righted himself, the illusion that had been facing Yumie before fading into nothing as the Iscariot woman's body slumped against him.
While he had never been particularly fond of the means of delivery for that spell, he was more than a bit pleased with the results. He respected Yumiko Tagaki a great deal and had known her before his fall from Iscariot.

Most certainly he did not wish to harm or kill her.

Setting the limp Death Nun's body on the ground, Harker snickered when he heard the pistol behind him cock.

"Put that thing away Wulfe... You should know better by now."

"Ve are here to stop you." Wulfe stated clearly, his trigger pressed to an expert's edge, less than a nano-second from firing.

"You know Wulfe, one of the reasons that I left left Iscariot after my father died was because it was just TOO black and white. Nothing is that easy." Harker stated, as a matter of factly as he stood up, back still to the Heritic Specialist's gun. "If Maxwell tells you I'm evil...then I'm evil..simple as that. And yet all of your men are still alive, even though it WOULD have been much easier to kill them all... same with Yumie. A knife to the spine would have been MUCH easier to deliver than that kiss."

Harker turned around to face Wulfe, a young german who was more than five years his senior and smiled when he noted how Wulfe's finger had eased off the trigger.

"I'm leaving now, Wulfe. And I think it is only fare to warn you that while fun is fun, I have a flight to catch. I'm doing exactly what you people should want and getting the hell out of Rome... no more questions asked."

"I haff one." Wulfe lowered his gun, realizing that with Harker acting so relaxed, there MUST have been something wrong with his weapon that would have kept this 'Mage' from being harmed by the bullet. "Vhy did you come back?"

"I was going to ask a favor...but seeing how you treat guests, I realized that was a mistake." Harker answered, tugging on his collar and turning to leave. "Also, if you are wondering why I took so long getting out here, I needed to stop and visit my Dad." He added, walking away and heading out the doors of the factory, stepping over the still incapacitated Iscariot guards on the way and Leaving Heinkel Wulfe to see to his partner and team.

Once outside, Harker breathed a sigh of relief.

This time around, he had not had time between dealing out distractions and keeping Yumie busy at the same time. And with his back to Wulfe, and being in that crouching position, Harker would not have been able to bring up his normal gun defenses in time.

If Wulfe HAD fired this time... He would not have missed.

----------------------------------------------------------

Alexander Anderson wondered for a time, waiting for Maxwell's return so that he could be debriefed and thought about what he had told his Godson. Memories of the days that he had been friends with Jonathan Harker the Fourth...Long before he became 'The Paladin.'

As he had said all along, Harker was a good kid that wanted to do the right thing, but his reckless streak had set him astray. Now, with nowhere to turn, Alex had sent him into the hands of people he considered to be dangerous enemies... the Director Integra Hellsing...

But for his part, he wasn't going to let Harker go completely unanswered for what sins he had commited.

If he were to have forgiven John completely for having skipped out on them... he would have told him about The Director Hellsing's 'pets'.

----------------------------------------------------------

:Leonardo Di Vinci International Airport:
:1:05pm:

"You have him!" Maxwell half hobbled, half sprinted down the corridor, hating every moment with the crutch as he tried to keep up with the Head of the Airport security.

"My men and several members of the Roman Police have him in a taxi just outside. The Taxi is surrounded and so far there has been no movement."

"Tell your men to wait until I get there, I want too see that bastard taken down."

"All men, hold your position" The hefty, but experienced Cheif of Secuirty of Di Vinci international was glad that this was almost over, already he had flights to Paris, London, New York, Miami and Rio De Jinario that were all held up by this 'terrorist' threat. He had of course given the green light now that the suspect was being apprehended, but still, such things were not easy to accomplish.

Once outside, Maxwell, who was now observing on account of his Holiness the Pope under authority that Harker was an anti-vatican terrorist moved just into sight, noting with an almost certain air of glee the one of a kind red-hair and priest outfit that Harker had been spotted wearing after reviewing Airport security videos surrounded by no less than two dozen armed police and security. His hands on his head, Maxwell figured not even his reported 'arcane' abilities would easily get Harker out of this.

"Take him." Maxwell nodded enthusiastically.

When Heinkel had reported that his team had been 'neutralized' Maxwell had given up hope of catching the Heritic while he was on Italian soil (and thus out of Interpol's juristiction) But now, with a newfound respect for the Roman Law Enforcement, Maxwell watched as the red-haired man was pulled from and throw into the car... patted down immediately while his trademark metal case was taken and tossed on top of the taxi.

He was enthusiastic...

Until his hair came off tilt, leaning a bit on his head...

"What the devil..." Maxwell cobbled closer, pushing past the policemen and reaching the suspect.
"HARKER!" He pushed the man over...

And revealed a young italian, no more than twenty, with an amazingly light complexion wearing a priest outfit and what looked like a specially designed red-haired wig.

"Mother mary... please don't kill me..." The boy was near to tears, the wig falling off completely to reveal short kept blond hair.

"What the HELL are you doing here!" Maxwell could barely keep from spitting as he screamed, the police looking back and forth confused as to why this priest was interrogating their 'suspect'.

"Look...I'm sorry father...I'm sorry.. This guy gave me five hundred euro to put this on and wait for somebody."

"WHO?" Father Maxwell shouted, his tone enough to melt steel.

Guns still on him, the young Italian taxi driver reached up slowly, unlocking the metal case and reaching in slowly, in a non-threating manner to withdraw... a peice of posterboard stapled to a plastic stake.

In one movement, the young italian held up the sign.

'Maxwell'

At that moment...four long delayed planes took off, the roar of their engines reaching the each heading outside the boarders of Italy.

In seconds...the roar of four enormous passenger liners were drowned out by the scream of one priest.