Punish the Sinners
By Nathander
Chapter 1
With one's principles one wants to bully one's habits, or justify, honor, scold, or conceal them: two men with the same principles probably aim with them at something basically different. -Friedrich Nietzsche
Sir Integra Wingates Hellsing sat at her desk, smoking furiously merely to keep from gnashing her teeth together at a constant rate. She had hoped that Incognito's death who, at the time, had seemed like a somewhat major player in the production of the FREAKS would have somewhat ebbed the flow of them. Instead, the exact opposite had seemingly happened as more and more of them seemed to appear. Not only that, but the monsters had begun to get bolder and bolder. They had begun, it seemed, to wage a personally and constant war not with the Protestant Church, but against it as well, slaughtering priests not to feed but to seemingly send a message to the public. It was as if they were publicly trying to proclaim "We exist! See us! Fear us! Run, before we come for you too!" The only thing at all that somewhat relieved her irritation and anger at the event was the loss of Catholic priests in Scotland and Ireland.
Placing her cigar on her ashtray, she took the stack of reports up again to look through. The brutality the FREAKS showed to their victims was common enough: dismemberment, impaling, slow torture. But one thing didn't fit, that being the loss of ALL the priests' blood in their bodies. While that didn't seem unnaturally to hear to begin with, it immediately became worth a second look once it was discovered that the blood HADN'T been removed through the usual form of draining. Instead, it seemed as if the blood had been forced out of the pieces of the bodies and taken away, only God knowing what the true purpose was.
Putting the papers back down, she folded her hands over her face, blocking out light to try to help think. "The only possible reason would be for a demon summoning." She stated lowly to herself. "That's the ONLY possible thing they could be gathering it for. The only question is what demon they're planning to offer it to."
"Or what demons." Alucard's voice wafted into the room as he silently entered, his entrance having gone unnoticed if not for him having spoken up. "There is, of course, the chance they're going to be trying to summon more than one this time. After all, only one didn't avail them much last time."
Integra sniffled a chuckle. "As usual, I'd take it you'd relish the chance to fight them."
Alucard's lips pulled back in a wolf-like smile. "Of course." He answered, the all-to-uncommon snobbery in it, just lurking beyond becoming unbearable. "Though it may not be in our best interest to wait for them to do so. The blood of priests is a good ingredient for summoning demons from the lower levels of Hell, but it isn't the only innocent blood they need if that's what they plan to do."
This time, Integra did make eye contact with him, though it was a vicious glare. "You make it sound as if I'm deliberately trying to not find them. I wanted them found, and dead, by the death of the first priest. I don't plan to tolerate ANY more murders in such a fashion, or of other innocents you're alluding too."
"Not tolerating and stopping something are too completely different things, though you probably know that." His voice showed how humorous he obviously found the situation. "Though, I must admit, I am ashamed to say that these ones have been throwing me for quite a loop and avoiding me. By now, the quicker this gets done, the better."
"If you find it so irritating, why have you decided to come in her to dally with me instead of going out and during your job?" While she did her best to keep anger in her voice, she did it while fighting to surpress a smile. Being able to get a dominating attitude towards Alucard was something she enjoyed the most from her position.
"I'm waiting for Police Girl to hurry up and finish."
"My, my. I thought you always considered her worthless and a waste of your time. Yet you seem so interested in her now. Why ever does that so happen to be?"
While he kept his smile, she could see an obvious look of irritation begin to form in his eyes when he responded. "Watching a person who I would consider a child in my clan grow can be very rewarding. While she isn't as useful as she COULD be, she's getting more so."
"So much so that you can't go hunting without her?"
"No, but going without her would drastically harm her capabilities. After all, training can only provide so much; it's on the field that we really learn."
Taking her cigar back up, she finished her conversation by simply stating, "Very well. Once she's done, take her out to 'help' you, if that's what you consider it by now. Walter has a possible lead, though not much of one; tail him tonight and get as much information as you can. Whether or not you kill him is up to you, but milk as much out of him as possible." Taking a deep puff and looking down at her desk, she told him, "Dismissed."
His smile widening, partially out of anticipation but more so (at least she thought) due to the fact that he had irritated her. "As you will Master." He replied, the air beginning to crackle with energy as a red pentagram and pentacle formed behind him, "As always, your humble servant shall deliver what is necessary."
Leaning back in her chair, she exhaled smoke through her mouth while simultaneously inhaling it through her nostrils, hoping the aroma would work some soothing effect on her.
Alexander Anderson sat in a plain wooden chair in the field in front of the Ferdinand Lukes, the orphanage he most commonly helped work at. Several children sat on the grass in a semi-circle in front of the chair, staring at the priest with wide eyes. It did his heart good to see children enthralled by the word of God, especially due to his own fondness for children. Reading from the Bible that sat on his lap, he read slowly, "The third time he said to him, 'Simon son of John, do you love me?' Peter was hurt because Jesus asked him the third time, 'Do you love me?' He said, 'Lord, you know all things; you know that I love you.' Jesus said, 'Feed my sheep. I tell you the truth, when you were younger you dressed yourself and went where you wanted; but when you are old you will stretch out your hands, and someone else will dress you and lead you were you do not want to go.' Jesus said this to indicate the kind of death by which Peter would glorify God. Then he said to him, 'Follow me!'" Closing the Bible slowly in a show of respect, he asked the children, "What have you learned from this story?"
One of the children, a young girl of 7 with blond hair pulled back in pigtails, answered, "That Jesus is very nice."
While a childish answer, it was still a good (and true) answer. In response to it, he inquired, "How is Jesus nice, child?"
She replied, "Because he forgave Peter even though he said he didn't know him three times." Then, in childish innocence, she proclaimed, "I wouldn't forgive someone if they lied about knowing me three times. I'd punch them in the teeth."
Anderson smiled happily at the girls' response. "I believe that's what I'd do too. Does anyone else have any other answers?"
From behind him, a female voice bearing a heavy German accent stated, "That to live our lives correctly, we must give to the Lord what is his, namely our live. Sacrifice in his name is the way all should die."
Lowering his eyes, Anderson told the children, "Head on inside. The sisters should have snacks ready."
The word 'snacks' was enough to motivate the children to move as quickly as possible to the doors of the orphanage. One of them, a boy, turned to Anderson as he was leaving, "Aren't you coming, Father?"
"I will in a minute, but there are some things I have to do first." He replied, his voice having become dull from the zeal that was obvious in it when he was reading from the Bible. That seemed to satisfy the child, as he quickly headed for the snacks with his friend. Getting up from his chair, he turned to face the woman who dressed herself up in the garb of a priest. Giving a slight nod of his head, he gave a dull response of acknowledgement of her presence. "Heinkel."
She nodded back at him, her sunglasses slipping slightly. "It's been awhile, Anderson."
"It has." He responded. Then, almost without thinking, he said, "That was inappropriate Heinkel."
"Was it now?" She retorted, her voice beginning to quickly show impatience. "Despite the fact it is what you believe as well? Despite the fact that it is what you know is true?"
"Aye, I know it's true. But that doesn't mean we need to revel that to the children just yet. Let them grow first before that lesson is put upon them."
"So you're saying keep them blind from the light and word of God? Allow the devil a chance to tempt them into sin and deprivation? Is that what you plan to do, become a servant of the fallen bringer of light Lucifer?"
His hands clenching into fists of rage, he replied, "Of course not. I merely believe it wasn't a necessity to make them aware of it yet. They're innocents; they have the right to bear innocent dreams."
Heinkel scoffed. "Innocents and the ideas of innocence are the most easily corrupted, and thus can be one of the greatest tools wielded by the devil. You bask yourself in ignorance if you think you can keep them innocent AND pure, as it is a mistake to claim those traits are one in the same. It would be best if you told them the truth of the world, of the arch-demon's lies, and freed them so they may REMAIN pure in God's service."
Holding back a snarl, he decided at that moment he despised the woman. He, at least, still had a deal of his humanity, though he was less human than she was. Yet she seemed to have evolved herself into a killing machine, seeing only the ideal of retribution as the means through which God did his holy work. True, he himself enjoyed hunting down and dealing judgment to the damned and the corrupters, but there was more to God, for God was love, and who better to understand that then children? "Surely you didn't come here to merely discuss such rationalable subjects as how to raise children and the 'true' meaning of innocence and purity. Why did Section XIII send you?"
"Father Maxwell has a mission for you." She stated bluntly. "He has merely sent me to fetch you and tell you to report to the Vatican immediately."
Anderson sniffed, smirking down at her. It seemed that Heinkel was now merely running messages for Enrico; perhaps the Vatican had finally realized how loose a cannon she was after her most recent exploits, especially the hostage situation in Palestine. A waste of a good servant of the Lord, at least for hunting demons and pagans, but he wasn't feeling especially sympathetic at the moment. "That's it? That's all there is? May I ask as to why Enrico sent you to get me?"
She grimaced, obviously not very enthusiastic by him calling his superior by his first name and not even adding the moniker of 'Father' after it. "Due to the attacks recently, especially the situation of the current FREAK affair, the Vatican is choosing to hold off any travels by priests or nuns, except for our division of course."
"I still fail to see the logic behind him sending you. His usual messenger, Father Hellinger, was, and still is, a member of Section XIII and is more than capable of—"
"Father Hellinger is dead, Anderson."
For a moment, his jaw merely stood open in shock. He soon regained control and, his face twisted in indignation and fury, loudly demanded, "How....no, WHO killed him? Was it in the similar pattern of the previous murders?"
"If we knew exactly who killed him, we would have taken care of him. Yet, we do not. Father Hellinger knew the risks he was taking; we shouldn't take sorrow in his death, but understand it is merely God's will."
"Aye." Anderson replied solemnly, still a bit shaken. Father Hellinger had been a mentor of his, a teacher, and to a degree, an adopted father. Battle-rage filling him, he faced Heinkel straight in the eyes, "When do we leave?"
She could sense him, feel him. The darkness was not her master. No, the darkness was a tool, it was what she thrived on.
The darkness was within were she hunted.
She could feel him, feel it come towards her. The object's speed was amazing, lashing out at her back like a snake. Fast though it was, she was quicker still. She jumped into the air, flipping through it and her feet landing upon the wall behind her. She stuck there, the force of her body, of her kinship to the darkness, giving her the strength to stay there, to prepare to lash out.
But her opponent was just as quick. He too jumped to the same wall, right under her, and lashed out again, his speed almost imbearable at such a close range. Yet she was able to move away. He struck her, true, but it only tore her clothing, yet the skin. Landing only a few feet away, she charged her attacker who had yet to follow her. Grabbing him by his arm, she flung him to the ground, his body making a loud, cracking sound. The body shuddered a bit, and then disappeared.
She hesitated, frightened. She knew her opponent was quick, but not that quick. She had to find him, and quickly.
But it was too late. She felt her opponent's weapon circling around her, enclosing her and threatening to tear into her body. Two of the strands found their way to her neck and, quickly, went gently over it, cutting off the front of her collar.
"I'm afraid to announce that, at this time, you would be dead, Miss Victoria." Announced Walter from behind her, the darkness fading from the training room as the lights came back on. The room was completely empty, merely a large, white room devoid of any features. Seras decided she liked the room better with the lights off.
Sighing, she brushed herself off as Walter's circle of string, an odd yet effective blessed weapon, loosened and returned to him. "It's a waste of time." She stated sordidly, slightly depressed. "I don't have any chance of meeting master's expectations if I can't even match you." Quickly, sorry for having said it, she stated, "No offense ment, Walter."
Walter chuckled lightly. "None taken at all, Miss Victoria. I don't expect to be considered a very considerable opponent compared to Alucard or you."
"But you are better than me." She replied, eyes to the ground half in embarrassment, half in shame. "I really am like master thought of me when he permitted me into his clan."
He put a hand on her shoulder. He knew all too well Seras' disappointment and frustration with her seeming inability to please her master. He knew a man once who was like that to him; no matter what he did, nothing seemed to satisfy. He became a hero in serving his country in World War II, he became a top-ranking agent in an organization that accepted only the most specialized in their field, and yet he was always seen as a disappointment. Seras called her man master; he could his man father. "It will be all right, Miss Victoria. I am sure that Alucard has the utmost trust and respect in you."
Seras smirked. "Please, I'm not so naïve as to know when I'm a burden."
"There are a ways to improve yourself and not be one, if you actually wanted to try instead of cry about your limitations." Alucard's voice echoed through the room. The vampire, the most powerful in England (and, more than likely, the entire world), stood leaning against the doorframe of the training room.
"M......master....." she stumbled with her words and did a short, small bow to show respect to him. Walter gave a small, barely visible shake of the head. He didn't understand why, but it seemed the more powerful she got, the more subservient she became towards her master. He supposed it was due to the fact that she herself did not seem to notice she had become so strong, and unfortunately, Alucard did not let her know she was, at least not visibly to her. Yet he could occasionally see the pride in Alucard's eyes when he watched his pupil grow and learn, and become, in truth, stronger.
And she did not know it yet, but she WAS stronger than him. During their training fight, he had made a decision: he would not hold back. Instead, judging from their previous sparring sessions and the missions she went on with Alucard, he believed her to be ready. When he brought the two wires to her neck, he pulled with enough force to have cut off the head of a FREAK and immediately deal what was practically a killing blow. Instead, the wire had only cut off the front of her collar. She didn't notice it yet, but her strength was not just combat; her true strength lied within premonition and intuition, being able to judge her opponent and, subconsciously, making movements, even to the slightest millimeter, to avoid being attacked or hurt. In a true fight, she would have triumphed over him, and while he would not say it out loud yet, she would more than likely surpass Alucard, her master, in the use of mental capabilities for combat. And that was saying a great deal.
"Lift your head up, police girl." Alucard nearly spat the words in disgust as he moved forward. Seras shuddered a bit, whether from fear or trying to surpress tears, Walter couldn't tell. Yet, looking into Alucard's eyes, he could see a small flicker of pride residing there, the only sign of the great abundance of it that lied within him in secret. He had somehow watched and known everything that had transpired, including the fact that Walter was going for the kill.
"I'm sorry master." She said lowly, trying to hide her pain from her master's words, which in hear ears, seemed to be the most condemning things ever spoken.
Alucard ignored her completely. "Integra said you have a lead for us." He inquired of Walter.
Walter nodded and took out a small piece of paper from his breastpocket, casually placing it in Alucard's hand. "Gregor Yushli, age 72. An immigrant from Russia, his family moved sought sanctuary in Britain to avoid Stalin's persecution during World War II. He's a free-lance journalist............and a student of the occult, taking part in dark rituals and having ties to demon-worshipping cults. Five months ago, he disappeared.......and came back a week ago. His landlady says that he looks much healthier than he did before he left, though perhaps a bit more pale. He has become incredibly erratic since he left also. He demands people be kept out of his apartment and refuses to allow people to even clean it. He only seems to come out at night, and the landlady says that there's always a 'peculiar smell' around him."
Alucard smirked and gave a small sniff, obviously showing what he considered to be his own superiority to the creature. "Obviously a relatively young vampire. I doubt I'D have much trouble with him," having put a good deal of emphasis on mentioning himself, he flickered his eyes towards Seras, "but perhaps he will be enough of a formidable challenge to our police girl."
Sighing, she nodded, agreeing with her master. She couldn't take, afraid she'd show more weakness than necessary. Alucard turned back to Walter. "I take it the piece of paper has his address?" Walter nodded. "If you don't find him there, he supposedly haunts several seedy little bars in the immediate area. Just your regular, stereotypical bum villain."
Smiling, Alucard turned his back and prepared to leave the room, merely saying "Come along, police girl. We hunt tonight."
Seras followed quickly, nearly stepping on his heels.
"UNACCEPTABLE!" Anderson shouted out in fury, both hands curled into fists which he slammed down upon Maxwell's desk. "Completely and utterly unacceptable!"
Father Enrico Maxwell, head of the Iscariot Division, merely sat placidly at Anderson's show of outrage. Taking a cigar into his mouth, he casually lit it and began to savor it. "You seem to believe I don't agree with you, but be assured that I do." Leaning back slightly in his chair, he exhaled casually, smoke coming out in gentle wisps. "Yet desperate times call for desperate measures, and we must see this through together, even if they be enemies. We must triumph over this at all costs." Closing his eyes, he recited, "Though one may be overpowered, two can defend themselves. A cord of three strands is not quickly broken. "
"But why them?" Anderson spat, irritated with this chain of events. "Why not send other Division members with me? Surely, three who are pure and righteous have a better chance of toppling the wicked then one who is righteous and two who are unholy."
Sighing, Father Maxwell found his words to try to explain. "How should I put this? Other agent members are not found of the idea of working for you, each with a different reason. The newer and younger members, such as Yumiko, look up to you and revere you as a hero. That being the case, they'd humble themselves MUCH more than necessary in your presence. Meanwhile, some of the older members either have too much confidence in you working alone, as if having pride in their child, or despise you for being so highly regarded."
He easily knew whom Maxwell was referring too. "Jealousy has no place in the brotherhood and family of the Lord."
"No, it does not, but human means cannot stop human desires and emotions. That being the case, this mission is MUCH too sensitive and dangerous to have you go off on it alone, especially since we don't know the capabilities of these enemies. Our best chance is, for the moment, to align ourselves with the agents of Hellsing, specifically their top agents."
His hands closed upon the edges of the desk, as if preparing to rip the wood off it. "I repeat, this is unacceptable! You know as well as I know that these kinds of actions are unacceptable. By doing this, do we not risk bringing damnation by the angels of the Lord upon ourselves?"
Maxwell had had enough. His eyes became like steel, cold and unyielding and uncaring to the world. "If we wish to discuss what is and is not acceptable, let us talk of your most recent escapades, shall we? I think the Pope would like to know of those, don't you?"
Anderson froze in place, his breath even almost stopping. In a meek voice, truly a once in a lifetime event, he asked, "You know?"
Smirking, Enrico snuffed out his cigar. "Of course I know. It would be folly for me to not watch over my flock, would it not? I can understand your reasoning for the things you have done, so you're truly blessed I don't report you. But let me say this: during this mission, I'd suggest you stay within the borders of England. Otherwise, you may find yourself a target of several opponents, and not the undead."
Loosening up, his eyes to the ground, Anderson stated, "Be thou prepared, and prepare for thyself, thou, and all thy company that are assembled unto thee, and be thou a guard unto them. "
Smiling a little wider, he asked, "Does that mean you accept?"
"Aye." Anderson responded, eyes still plastered to the ground. "May the work of the Lord be done, and may I be his instrument of righteousness."
The room was dark and cool, the way he liked it. His black leather shoes clacking on the stone ground of the cavern, he stood at attention before the darkness, darkness so great even his eyes couldn't pierce it.
He was a tall, thin man of Asian origin. He cut his black hair to the shoulder blade, as well as keeping his thin, slanted face clean shaved. He wore formal clothing, a white shirt under a black button down, and fine black pants to punctuate the point. His hands were always clad in thin leather gloves. His eyes were a perplexing, steel-tinted gray.
From the darkness came the voice, a voice full of command and demanding of respect and subjugation. "How far are we in the production, Aboshi?"
His voice was cool and calm, ringing through the cavern like a bell. "The experiments have continued to go directly on time, as well as the collection. We only need the blood of a few more priests; in a day or two, we will be able to move on to the collection of the blood of the other necessary innocents."
"And you're chosen?" asked another voice, this one female.
"Are coming along. The Russian quickly and happily allowed his transformation. The others will be here soon."
"And what of the traitors?" Yet another new voice responded from the darkness.
"They shall be dealt with in time. I believe we can kill the younger one fairly easily. The other, however..............I'm afraid his defeat will be impossible to bring around until the summoning is completed. Incognito made a poor choice, picking such a low-ranking demon as Set to imbue himself with. Luckily, I shall not make the same mistake. Their defeat, and our victory, are imminent."
"Make it so." Several voices, including the previous three, rang out. He waited several minutes to see if the silence was permanent. When he was certain he was, he closed his eyes and concentrated.
His back began to hunch, his body quivering with the power flowing through him. Though it was a stage he only just recently reached in his lifetime, it was quickly mastered.
Soon enough, the man known as Aboshi had seemingly disappeared. In his steed was a large, white-furred wolf, its fangs glistening with saliva. It ran out of the cavern and into the night, seeking the creatures of the woodlands to fulfill it's insatiable appetite.
He would wait until tomorrow night to hunt for more preferable delicacies.
REFERENCES:
- John 21:17-19 - Ecclesiastes 4:12 - Ezekiel 38:7
By Nathander
Chapter 1
With one's principles one wants to bully one's habits, or justify, honor, scold, or conceal them: two men with the same principles probably aim with them at something basically different. -Friedrich Nietzsche
Sir Integra Wingates Hellsing sat at her desk, smoking furiously merely to keep from gnashing her teeth together at a constant rate. She had hoped that Incognito's death who, at the time, had seemed like a somewhat major player in the production of the FREAKS would have somewhat ebbed the flow of them. Instead, the exact opposite had seemingly happened as more and more of them seemed to appear. Not only that, but the monsters had begun to get bolder and bolder. They had begun, it seemed, to wage a personally and constant war not with the Protestant Church, but against it as well, slaughtering priests not to feed but to seemingly send a message to the public. It was as if they were publicly trying to proclaim "We exist! See us! Fear us! Run, before we come for you too!" The only thing at all that somewhat relieved her irritation and anger at the event was the loss of Catholic priests in Scotland and Ireland.
Placing her cigar on her ashtray, she took the stack of reports up again to look through. The brutality the FREAKS showed to their victims was common enough: dismemberment, impaling, slow torture. But one thing didn't fit, that being the loss of ALL the priests' blood in their bodies. While that didn't seem unnaturally to hear to begin with, it immediately became worth a second look once it was discovered that the blood HADN'T been removed through the usual form of draining. Instead, it seemed as if the blood had been forced out of the pieces of the bodies and taken away, only God knowing what the true purpose was.
Putting the papers back down, she folded her hands over her face, blocking out light to try to help think. "The only possible reason would be for a demon summoning." She stated lowly to herself. "That's the ONLY possible thing they could be gathering it for. The only question is what demon they're planning to offer it to."
"Or what demons." Alucard's voice wafted into the room as he silently entered, his entrance having gone unnoticed if not for him having spoken up. "There is, of course, the chance they're going to be trying to summon more than one this time. After all, only one didn't avail them much last time."
Integra sniffled a chuckle. "As usual, I'd take it you'd relish the chance to fight them."
Alucard's lips pulled back in a wolf-like smile. "Of course." He answered, the all-to-uncommon snobbery in it, just lurking beyond becoming unbearable. "Though it may not be in our best interest to wait for them to do so. The blood of priests is a good ingredient for summoning demons from the lower levels of Hell, but it isn't the only innocent blood they need if that's what they plan to do."
This time, Integra did make eye contact with him, though it was a vicious glare. "You make it sound as if I'm deliberately trying to not find them. I wanted them found, and dead, by the death of the first priest. I don't plan to tolerate ANY more murders in such a fashion, or of other innocents you're alluding too."
"Not tolerating and stopping something are too completely different things, though you probably know that." His voice showed how humorous he obviously found the situation. "Though, I must admit, I am ashamed to say that these ones have been throwing me for quite a loop and avoiding me. By now, the quicker this gets done, the better."
"If you find it so irritating, why have you decided to come in her to dally with me instead of going out and during your job?" While she did her best to keep anger in her voice, she did it while fighting to surpress a smile. Being able to get a dominating attitude towards Alucard was something she enjoyed the most from her position.
"I'm waiting for Police Girl to hurry up and finish."
"My, my. I thought you always considered her worthless and a waste of your time. Yet you seem so interested in her now. Why ever does that so happen to be?"
While he kept his smile, she could see an obvious look of irritation begin to form in his eyes when he responded. "Watching a person who I would consider a child in my clan grow can be very rewarding. While she isn't as useful as she COULD be, she's getting more so."
"So much so that you can't go hunting without her?"
"No, but going without her would drastically harm her capabilities. After all, training can only provide so much; it's on the field that we really learn."
Taking her cigar back up, she finished her conversation by simply stating, "Very well. Once she's done, take her out to 'help' you, if that's what you consider it by now. Walter has a possible lead, though not much of one; tail him tonight and get as much information as you can. Whether or not you kill him is up to you, but milk as much out of him as possible." Taking a deep puff and looking down at her desk, she told him, "Dismissed."
His smile widening, partially out of anticipation but more so (at least she thought) due to the fact that he had irritated her. "As you will Master." He replied, the air beginning to crackle with energy as a red pentagram and pentacle formed behind him, "As always, your humble servant shall deliver what is necessary."
Leaning back in her chair, she exhaled smoke through her mouth while simultaneously inhaling it through her nostrils, hoping the aroma would work some soothing effect on her.
Alexander Anderson sat in a plain wooden chair in the field in front of the Ferdinand Lukes, the orphanage he most commonly helped work at. Several children sat on the grass in a semi-circle in front of the chair, staring at the priest with wide eyes. It did his heart good to see children enthralled by the word of God, especially due to his own fondness for children. Reading from the Bible that sat on his lap, he read slowly, "The third time he said to him, 'Simon son of John, do you love me?' Peter was hurt because Jesus asked him the third time, 'Do you love me?' He said, 'Lord, you know all things; you know that I love you.' Jesus said, 'Feed my sheep. I tell you the truth, when you were younger you dressed yourself and went where you wanted; but when you are old you will stretch out your hands, and someone else will dress you and lead you were you do not want to go.' Jesus said this to indicate the kind of death by which Peter would glorify God. Then he said to him, 'Follow me!'" Closing the Bible slowly in a show of respect, he asked the children, "What have you learned from this story?"
One of the children, a young girl of 7 with blond hair pulled back in pigtails, answered, "That Jesus is very nice."
While a childish answer, it was still a good (and true) answer. In response to it, he inquired, "How is Jesus nice, child?"
She replied, "Because he forgave Peter even though he said he didn't know him three times." Then, in childish innocence, she proclaimed, "I wouldn't forgive someone if they lied about knowing me three times. I'd punch them in the teeth."
Anderson smiled happily at the girls' response. "I believe that's what I'd do too. Does anyone else have any other answers?"
From behind him, a female voice bearing a heavy German accent stated, "That to live our lives correctly, we must give to the Lord what is his, namely our live. Sacrifice in his name is the way all should die."
Lowering his eyes, Anderson told the children, "Head on inside. The sisters should have snacks ready."
The word 'snacks' was enough to motivate the children to move as quickly as possible to the doors of the orphanage. One of them, a boy, turned to Anderson as he was leaving, "Aren't you coming, Father?"
"I will in a minute, but there are some things I have to do first." He replied, his voice having become dull from the zeal that was obvious in it when he was reading from the Bible. That seemed to satisfy the child, as he quickly headed for the snacks with his friend. Getting up from his chair, he turned to face the woman who dressed herself up in the garb of a priest. Giving a slight nod of his head, he gave a dull response of acknowledgement of her presence. "Heinkel."
She nodded back at him, her sunglasses slipping slightly. "It's been awhile, Anderson."
"It has." He responded. Then, almost without thinking, he said, "That was inappropriate Heinkel."
"Was it now?" She retorted, her voice beginning to quickly show impatience. "Despite the fact it is what you believe as well? Despite the fact that it is what you know is true?"
"Aye, I know it's true. But that doesn't mean we need to revel that to the children just yet. Let them grow first before that lesson is put upon them."
"So you're saying keep them blind from the light and word of God? Allow the devil a chance to tempt them into sin and deprivation? Is that what you plan to do, become a servant of the fallen bringer of light Lucifer?"
His hands clenching into fists of rage, he replied, "Of course not. I merely believe it wasn't a necessity to make them aware of it yet. They're innocents; they have the right to bear innocent dreams."
Heinkel scoffed. "Innocents and the ideas of innocence are the most easily corrupted, and thus can be one of the greatest tools wielded by the devil. You bask yourself in ignorance if you think you can keep them innocent AND pure, as it is a mistake to claim those traits are one in the same. It would be best if you told them the truth of the world, of the arch-demon's lies, and freed them so they may REMAIN pure in God's service."
Holding back a snarl, he decided at that moment he despised the woman. He, at least, still had a deal of his humanity, though he was less human than she was. Yet she seemed to have evolved herself into a killing machine, seeing only the ideal of retribution as the means through which God did his holy work. True, he himself enjoyed hunting down and dealing judgment to the damned and the corrupters, but there was more to God, for God was love, and who better to understand that then children? "Surely you didn't come here to merely discuss such rationalable subjects as how to raise children and the 'true' meaning of innocence and purity. Why did Section XIII send you?"
"Father Maxwell has a mission for you." She stated bluntly. "He has merely sent me to fetch you and tell you to report to the Vatican immediately."
Anderson sniffed, smirking down at her. It seemed that Heinkel was now merely running messages for Enrico; perhaps the Vatican had finally realized how loose a cannon she was after her most recent exploits, especially the hostage situation in Palestine. A waste of a good servant of the Lord, at least for hunting demons and pagans, but he wasn't feeling especially sympathetic at the moment. "That's it? That's all there is? May I ask as to why Enrico sent you to get me?"
She grimaced, obviously not very enthusiastic by him calling his superior by his first name and not even adding the moniker of 'Father' after it. "Due to the attacks recently, especially the situation of the current FREAK affair, the Vatican is choosing to hold off any travels by priests or nuns, except for our division of course."
"I still fail to see the logic behind him sending you. His usual messenger, Father Hellinger, was, and still is, a member of Section XIII and is more than capable of—"
"Father Hellinger is dead, Anderson."
For a moment, his jaw merely stood open in shock. He soon regained control and, his face twisted in indignation and fury, loudly demanded, "How....no, WHO killed him? Was it in the similar pattern of the previous murders?"
"If we knew exactly who killed him, we would have taken care of him. Yet, we do not. Father Hellinger knew the risks he was taking; we shouldn't take sorrow in his death, but understand it is merely God's will."
"Aye." Anderson replied solemnly, still a bit shaken. Father Hellinger had been a mentor of his, a teacher, and to a degree, an adopted father. Battle-rage filling him, he faced Heinkel straight in the eyes, "When do we leave?"
She could sense him, feel him. The darkness was not her master. No, the darkness was a tool, it was what she thrived on.
The darkness was within were she hunted.
She could feel him, feel it come towards her. The object's speed was amazing, lashing out at her back like a snake. Fast though it was, she was quicker still. She jumped into the air, flipping through it and her feet landing upon the wall behind her. She stuck there, the force of her body, of her kinship to the darkness, giving her the strength to stay there, to prepare to lash out.
But her opponent was just as quick. He too jumped to the same wall, right under her, and lashed out again, his speed almost imbearable at such a close range. Yet she was able to move away. He struck her, true, but it only tore her clothing, yet the skin. Landing only a few feet away, she charged her attacker who had yet to follow her. Grabbing him by his arm, she flung him to the ground, his body making a loud, cracking sound. The body shuddered a bit, and then disappeared.
She hesitated, frightened. She knew her opponent was quick, but not that quick. She had to find him, and quickly.
But it was too late. She felt her opponent's weapon circling around her, enclosing her and threatening to tear into her body. Two of the strands found their way to her neck and, quickly, went gently over it, cutting off the front of her collar.
"I'm afraid to announce that, at this time, you would be dead, Miss Victoria." Announced Walter from behind her, the darkness fading from the training room as the lights came back on. The room was completely empty, merely a large, white room devoid of any features. Seras decided she liked the room better with the lights off.
Sighing, she brushed herself off as Walter's circle of string, an odd yet effective blessed weapon, loosened and returned to him. "It's a waste of time." She stated sordidly, slightly depressed. "I don't have any chance of meeting master's expectations if I can't even match you." Quickly, sorry for having said it, she stated, "No offense ment, Walter."
Walter chuckled lightly. "None taken at all, Miss Victoria. I don't expect to be considered a very considerable opponent compared to Alucard or you."
"But you are better than me." She replied, eyes to the ground half in embarrassment, half in shame. "I really am like master thought of me when he permitted me into his clan."
He put a hand on her shoulder. He knew all too well Seras' disappointment and frustration with her seeming inability to please her master. He knew a man once who was like that to him; no matter what he did, nothing seemed to satisfy. He became a hero in serving his country in World War II, he became a top-ranking agent in an organization that accepted only the most specialized in their field, and yet he was always seen as a disappointment. Seras called her man master; he could his man father. "It will be all right, Miss Victoria. I am sure that Alucard has the utmost trust and respect in you."
Seras smirked. "Please, I'm not so naïve as to know when I'm a burden."
"There are a ways to improve yourself and not be one, if you actually wanted to try instead of cry about your limitations." Alucard's voice echoed through the room. The vampire, the most powerful in England (and, more than likely, the entire world), stood leaning against the doorframe of the training room.
"M......master....." she stumbled with her words and did a short, small bow to show respect to him. Walter gave a small, barely visible shake of the head. He didn't understand why, but it seemed the more powerful she got, the more subservient she became towards her master. He supposed it was due to the fact that she herself did not seem to notice she had become so strong, and unfortunately, Alucard did not let her know she was, at least not visibly to her. Yet he could occasionally see the pride in Alucard's eyes when he watched his pupil grow and learn, and become, in truth, stronger.
And she did not know it yet, but she WAS stronger than him. During their training fight, he had made a decision: he would not hold back. Instead, judging from their previous sparring sessions and the missions she went on with Alucard, he believed her to be ready. When he brought the two wires to her neck, he pulled with enough force to have cut off the head of a FREAK and immediately deal what was practically a killing blow. Instead, the wire had only cut off the front of her collar. She didn't notice it yet, but her strength was not just combat; her true strength lied within premonition and intuition, being able to judge her opponent and, subconsciously, making movements, even to the slightest millimeter, to avoid being attacked or hurt. In a true fight, she would have triumphed over him, and while he would not say it out loud yet, she would more than likely surpass Alucard, her master, in the use of mental capabilities for combat. And that was saying a great deal.
"Lift your head up, police girl." Alucard nearly spat the words in disgust as he moved forward. Seras shuddered a bit, whether from fear or trying to surpress tears, Walter couldn't tell. Yet, looking into Alucard's eyes, he could see a small flicker of pride residing there, the only sign of the great abundance of it that lied within him in secret. He had somehow watched and known everything that had transpired, including the fact that Walter was going for the kill.
"I'm sorry master." She said lowly, trying to hide her pain from her master's words, which in hear ears, seemed to be the most condemning things ever spoken.
Alucard ignored her completely. "Integra said you have a lead for us." He inquired of Walter.
Walter nodded and took out a small piece of paper from his breastpocket, casually placing it in Alucard's hand. "Gregor Yushli, age 72. An immigrant from Russia, his family moved sought sanctuary in Britain to avoid Stalin's persecution during World War II. He's a free-lance journalist............and a student of the occult, taking part in dark rituals and having ties to demon-worshipping cults. Five months ago, he disappeared.......and came back a week ago. His landlady says that he looks much healthier than he did before he left, though perhaps a bit more pale. He has become incredibly erratic since he left also. He demands people be kept out of his apartment and refuses to allow people to even clean it. He only seems to come out at night, and the landlady says that there's always a 'peculiar smell' around him."
Alucard smirked and gave a small sniff, obviously showing what he considered to be his own superiority to the creature. "Obviously a relatively young vampire. I doubt I'D have much trouble with him," having put a good deal of emphasis on mentioning himself, he flickered his eyes towards Seras, "but perhaps he will be enough of a formidable challenge to our police girl."
Sighing, she nodded, agreeing with her master. She couldn't take, afraid she'd show more weakness than necessary. Alucard turned back to Walter. "I take it the piece of paper has his address?" Walter nodded. "If you don't find him there, he supposedly haunts several seedy little bars in the immediate area. Just your regular, stereotypical bum villain."
Smiling, Alucard turned his back and prepared to leave the room, merely saying "Come along, police girl. We hunt tonight."
Seras followed quickly, nearly stepping on his heels.
"UNACCEPTABLE!" Anderson shouted out in fury, both hands curled into fists which he slammed down upon Maxwell's desk. "Completely and utterly unacceptable!"
Father Enrico Maxwell, head of the Iscariot Division, merely sat placidly at Anderson's show of outrage. Taking a cigar into his mouth, he casually lit it and began to savor it. "You seem to believe I don't agree with you, but be assured that I do." Leaning back slightly in his chair, he exhaled casually, smoke coming out in gentle wisps. "Yet desperate times call for desperate measures, and we must see this through together, even if they be enemies. We must triumph over this at all costs." Closing his eyes, he recited, "Though one may be overpowered, two can defend themselves. A cord of three strands is not quickly broken. "
"But why them?" Anderson spat, irritated with this chain of events. "Why not send other Division members with me? Surely, three who are pure and righteous have a better chance of toppling the wicked then one who is righteous and two who are unholy."
Sighing, Father Maxwell found his words to try to explain. "How should I put this? Other agent members are not found of the idea of working for you, each with a different reason. The newer and younger members, such as Yumiko, look up to you and revere you as a hero. That being the case, they'd humble themselves MUCH more than necessary in your presence. Meanwhile, some of the older members either have too much confidence in you working alone, as if having pride in their child, or despise you for being so highly regarded."
He easily knew whom Maxwell was referring too. "Jealousy has no place in the brotherhood and family of the Lord."
"No, it does not, but human means cannot stop human desires and emotions. That being the case, this mission is MUCH too sensitive and dangerous to have you go off on it alone, especially since we don't know the capabilities of these enemies. Our best chance is, for the moment, to align ourselves with the agents of Hellsing, specifically their top agents."
His hands closed upon the edges of the desk, as if preparing to rip the wood off it. "I repeat, this is unacceptable! You know as well as I know that these kinds of actions are unacceptable. By doing this, do we not risk bringing damnation by the angels of the Lord upon ourselves?"
Maxwell had had enough. His eyes became like steel, cold and unyielding and uncaring to the world. "If we wish to discuss what is and is not acceptable, let us talk of your most recent escapades, shall we? I think the Pope would like to know of those, don't you?"
Anderson froze in place, his breath even almost stopping. In a meek voice, truly a once in a lifetime event, he asked, "You know?"
Smirking, Enrico snuffed out his cigar. "Of course I know. It would be folly for me to not watch over my flock, would it not? I can understand your reasoning for the things you have done, so you're truly blessed I don't report you. But let me say this: during this mission, I'd suggest you stay within the borders of England. Otherwise, you may find yourself a target of several opponents, and not the undead."
Loosening up, his eyes to the ground, Anderson stated, "Be thou prepared, and prepare for thyself, thou, and all thy company that are assembled unto thee, and be thou a guard unto them. "
Smiling a little wider, he asked, "Does that mean you accept?"
"Aye." Anderson responded, eyes still plastered to the ground. "May the work of the Lord be done, and may I be his instrument of righteousness."
The room was dark and cool, the way he liked it. His black leather shoes clacking on the stone ground of the cavern, he stood at attention before the darkness, darkness so great even his eyes couldn't pierce it.
He was a tall, thin man of Asian origin. He cut his black hair to the shoulder blade, as well as keeping his thin, slanted face clean shaved. He wore formal clothing, a white shirt under a black button down, and fine black pants to punctuate the point. His hands were always clad in thin leather gloves. His eyes were a perplexing, steel-tinted gray.
From the darkness came the voice, a voice full of command and demanding of respect and subjugation. "How far are we in the production, Aboshi?"
His voice was cool and calm, ringing through the cavern like a bell. "The experiments have continued to go directly on time, as well as the collection. We only need the blood of a few more priests; in a day or two, we will be able to move on to the collection of the blood of the other necessary innocents."
"And you're chosen?" asked another voice, this one female.
"Are coming along. The Russian quickly and happily allowed his transformation. The others will be here soon."
"And what of the traitors?" Yet another new voice responded from the darkness.
"They shall be dealt with in time. I believe we can kill the younger one fairly easily. The other, however..............I'm afraid his defeat will be impossible to bring around until the summoning is completed. Incognito made a poor choice, picking such a low-ranking demon as Set to imbue himself with. Luckily, I shall not make the same mistake. Their defeat, and our victory, are imminent."
"Make it so." Several voices, including the previous three, rang out. He waited several minutes to see if the silence was permanent. When he was certain he was, he closed his eyes and concentrated.
His back began to hunch, his body quivering with the power flowing through him. Though it was a stage he only just recently reached in his lifetime, it was quickly mastered.
Soon enough, the man known as Aboshi had seemingly disappeared. In his steed was a large, white-furred wolf, its fangs glistening with saliva. It ran out of the cavern and into the night, seeking the creatures of the woodlands to fulfill it's insatiable appetite.
He would wait until tomorrow night to hunt for more preferable delicacies.
REFERENCES:
- John 21:17-19 - Ecclesiastes 4:12 - Ezekiel 38:7