The helicopter was loud as tailed the van, causing those who still remained inside to sweat. There was still a driver, another masked man, and Skullface left barreling down the road before the vehicle rolled down close to the river. As they approached the bridge, they slowed down, only to speed up again once they came out the other side.
The pilot of the helicopter had to speed up in return, hurrying to intercept the van. It rushed ahead of it before descending, blocking the way and leaving the Belmont operatives nowhere else to go. They had the helicopter in front of them, trucks behind them, a wall on one side of them and nothing but water on the other. The suddenness of the blockade caught the driver of the van completely off guard, however, so he only had a split second to make his choice. Unfortunately, it wasn't a good one.
It was like he saw the water and completely forgot about the wall. Or perhaps, he was hoping the gap between it and the helicopter was wide enough for them. Being a human being with normal abilities, however, he over-corrected his steering and clipped the wall. Violently, the van spun out of control. Skidmarks stained the concrete while the momentum hurled the driver through the hole where the windshield once was. His face scraped against the pavement, rubbing off some skin before his body started to roll. Soon it and the van stopped and the driver was left to groan in pain. He was done. He wasn't moving. All he could do was hope that these soldiers didn't shoot him. Fortunately for him, all they did was pat him down to make sure he wasn't armed.
They had jumped from the helicopter with guns drawn. Those in the trucks would catch up shortly and do the same. Panicked, the masked man in the back reached into his coat and gripped a vile of adrenochrome. Sweat collected at his brow as he hesitated. He saw what happened to the others and it shook his resolve. If he took the adrenochrome, he would have no fear, but taking the plunge took a certain degree of bravery or carelessness or a dangerous mixture of both. But was he daring enough to go through with it? In his current state, the man could still rationally weigh his options and they looked grim.
"Get out of the fucking van!" bellowed one of the soldiers. "Put you hands in the fucking air and get the fuck out of the van!"
Slowly, the door opened and a hesitant Belmont operative took a step up. His hands were in the air just as instructed. Very slowly, he got on his knees before laying out on his stomach, giving the impression that he has been arrested before. Very quickly, but carefully, soldiers moved in and cuffed his hands behind his back, frisking him and removing any and all weapons.
"Adrenochrome." one of the soldiers said, holding the vial in his jacket pocket between their index finger and thumb. "Check him for more."
"This one's busted up pretty bad." said another about the driver of the van. All the poor man could do was groan as he was surrounded. "We need to get him a medic."
"Don't move him until medical help arrives. As for this one, load him in the chopper."
"There's somebody still in the van!"
The other soldiers whipped their heads to see a few of their men with their guns drawn and aimed at the open door in the back of the van. There, sitting upright in a trunk staring back at them was a man in a mask that made his face look like a skull. His eyes were visible to those who looked upon him. One of them was, at least. The other appeared to be sewn shut.
"Get out of the van right fucking now!" they ordered him, but the man in the skull mask did not budge. Getting impatient, one of the soldiers reached into the van and grabbed him. When he tried to pull him out, however, he was much lighter than the soldier thought he was. He was frail with a small frame, yet he could stand on his own once he was out, but he was uncoordinated. Regardless of his current state, the HELLSING operatives could not stifle their curiosity any longer. In a swift motion, they grabbed his mask and pulled it off, revealing his face. "Good God..."
The man's face was skeletal with eyes sunken in with heavy bags underneath and his cheekbones prominent. His shaved head made the dents in his skull obvious. Obviously, he had undergone the trepanation procedure that Belmont used to give people the supernatural-detecting sight that Blackwood had and he had undergone it multiple times. In some spots, there were adhesive bandages pasted on with God-knows-what hiding underneath. His right eye was sewn shut, leaving only his left eye open. This man had been through a lot.
Never allowing their eyes to leave him, one of the agents reached for his radio and pushed the "talk" button. "We found him." they said. "We've apprehended Skullface."
To that, the mysterious man smiled, knowing full well that these fools had been tricked. They didn't even look alike, but HELLSING didn't know that. What they also didn't know was that Skullface was long gone. When the van slowed down underneath the bridge, he had jumped out, taking a few scrapes and bruises to being captured. The man in the trunk was a unique case, to say the least.
Yet, in the grand scheme of things, he wasn't as important as he seemed. This man was a pawn to Skullface and he knew it. He was willing to sacrifice himself for this cause, however. He had mutilated himself for the sake of becoming a psychic to serve in the new world order, but his powers would fade, causing him to drill another hole in his head and inject more and more chemicals until he just couldn't anymore. Another hole would kill him. Another needle would destroy him. But it was a noble sacrifice, as he would be serving the betterment of mankind. That is all that matters.
They brought him and the other two back to headquarters. The driver was given medical attention while he was locked in a room by himself with only his reflection on the one way mirror to keep him company. It separated him from the interrogators. A microphone and speaker was how the two parties communicated with one another. It all served a purpose, however, as they had no way of knowing that the mysterious man wasn't Skullface. He was a man in the van with the mask on his face. That's all the information they needed to persuade them to use some degree of caution.
Yet, after hours of trying to interrogate him, they came to the realisation that it was not needed. At first, they thought that the man would not answer them, but they eventually learned that he could not answer them. His brain was far too damaged. All he could do was look around the room and fade in and out of consciousness, making the extent of his injuries apparent. Skullface was far too cruel. He used a dying man as a decoy so that he could get away. It didn't matter if the underling died for a cause that he believed in. If it weren't for Skullface, he wouldn't have had to die at all. He was young. There were still many more years he could have lived.
When the van slowed down under the bridge, Skullface jumped out, leaving his subordinates to take the fall for him. He didn't know if they would live or not. He didn't really care. They chose this, right? Surely they had accepted the possibility of death.
Yet, in thinking this, there was at least a small pang of guilt in the mastermind's heart as he navigated through the drain that he fled into. It was dark and he was all alone with just him, a flashlight, some running water, and his own thoughts. That was scarier than the soldiers he was fleeing from. People could be fought. Thoughts could not.
Did they really choose? They said they did, but was that the truth? Where they just saying that? Did he accidentally influence them? Skullface didn't know. He had no way of knowing or understanding. People would say and do things they didn't want to all the time around him whether he meant them to or not. Worse, when he did mean it, he wasn't fully aware that he was stripping people of their ability to choose to actually go through with it or not. It got to him, sometimes. Were the people around him really genuine or were they being influenced?
"Ugh..." he groaned before wretching. He had used these tunnels before, but had gotten so used to simply commandeering houses that he forgot that animals would sometimes crawl inside and die. A dead cat brushed against his leg.
For a time, he wandered the city, having decided to flee his home before he even graduated secondary school. He hadn't realised how much he was hurting the people there. He had no way of knowing. Then, one day he learned that his family didn't love him. There was a time they did, but after he learned how to speak, their resentment at being controlled began, only to fester and build as time went on. It all accumulated until he had to watch as his mother took a pair of knitting needles and jabbed them into her ears.
Who could take that? Knowing that one's mother hated them so much? Everytime she saw him after that, she would haughtily grin at him, knowing that at long last she had her free will back and there was nothing he could do about it. With this freedom, on a snowy day one January when he had fallen from a tree, she left him. She left her only son to die from the cold, a concussion, or both. As long as she and her family would never have to encounter him ever again, it was fine by her.
No one was there when he woke up in the hospital. No one was there to pick him up when he was released. He was all alone- unwanted, due to his fearsome power.
Fine! He would live on his own! He would make something of himself! Using his power- the same power which brought so much destruction to those he loved and that made them hate him so, he would work toward the betterment of humanity! He swore by the moon and the stars and whatever else would listen that he would! It wasn't for the sake of revenge, oh no. It was to prove himself. He would prove that he was not a monster and he would do it by slaying the real monsters. Real monsters- the kind that stalked the night and consumed human beings. This way, he would prove once and for all that Skullface was a force for good!
Grunting, he grabbed the grate that led to exit and lifted it, shoving it out of the way before tiredly crawling through. Panting, he laid on the ground and caught his breath for a moment. He was far away from where he started, so surely there would be no soldiers here.
"Are you alright, sir?" called a voice and Skullface's eyes snapped open. Looking up, he saw a police officer looking down at him with a perplexed expression. With a grunt, he sat up and turned his head to see a police car with one more officer inside.
"I'm fine." spoke the odd man, cringing at the squelching of his soaked shoes when he stood. Looking the first officer up and down, he hatched an idea. "Trade clothes with me." he instructed.
"Pardon?" scoffed the policeman at the strange request and the entitlement that came with it. That slight amusement, however, quickly turned into shock as his body started moving against his will. He removed his vest, tie, and began to unbutton his shirt. To his horror, the soaked man in front of him started removing his own clothes and putting on the ones from the policeman's pile. "What in blazes?!"
"Hey, what are you doing?!" his partner demanded, having abandoned the vehicle and started to rush over. As he approached, he held a hand to the taser on his belt, but Skullface remedied that very quickly.
"Put your hands up in the air and stand still until I tell you otherwise." spoke the leader of the Belmont organisation, having turned to face his potential assailant. With wide eyes, the other policeman tried to fight it, but just couldn't.
"Bit of a tight fit..." remarked Skullface while trying to put on the shirt he was given. The officer it belonged to was no small man by any means, but it still strained against Skullface's frame, forcing him to give up on the last two buttons. This was torture for the officers, especially when the one had to take off his pants and exchange them. They were too short for Skullface and he went commando, to boot.
"Good enough." the man said. "When you get done changing, come back to the car. Other guy, you go to the car and get in on the passenger side."
He followed the second officer back to the vehicle and got in on the driver's side. Soon after, the first cop came and sat in the back while wearing Skullface's soaked clothes. Pleased with this, Skullface adjusted the mirrors, pausing to look at his reflection.
"Sweet." he said, admiring himself. "Maybe I should've become a cop instead, huh? Bit small-time for me, though."
He had bigger plans, of course. He couldn't save humanity as a mere policeman. A policeman's car would come in handy, however, so he was sure to keep it. It would just be another tool in the man's master plan. He would save humanity from extinction from these supernatural beings and prove once and for all, that David Belmont was not the monster, here!
A/N: The most terrifying thing Skullface has done... Showed police officers his dick... And they were very intimidated by it? Take that however you will...
I actually deleted a massive portion of this because it wandered off in a direction that didn't really go anywhere. That guy in the trunk was going to have a bigger part, but he just didn't really matter? He goes by "Mantis," by the way. Instead, he dies soon after capture. What a world.
Kinja145 brought up the question as to whether or not these people were willing in doing this, and David isn't sure, himself, but the answer is actually yes. Some of the psychics who work for him genuinely believe in his cause and want to be a part of it. People who don't approve don't volunteer for this. Then, what happens to them happens to them.
Either way, you're kind of screwed? Adrenochrome is nasty stuff! You're stronger, but you can't feel pain so you don't know if you're over exerting yourself. You can really, really damage your body with that shit. stay away from it.
All of the drugs in DLTD are terrible. First Black Annis and now this...
Anyway, there's Skullface's name! Was it a surprise? I dunno. What are you thinking?
Until the next chapter, my duckies~!
