The gears of war were turning at full speed. Every single one of the HELLSING organisation's departments was hard at work. Intel was gathering up all of the information that they could on the situation and passed it on to the appropriate people, Dispatch sent out troops while the Weapons and Transportation department made sure that they had the resources to do their jobs. The Media Management Department was completely swamped while they quickly squashed all information available to the public they could. They were on social media, keeping track of a billion different accounts on countless websites and they were calling every news site and station that they could in order to issue them a gag order. Even Revy, who would much rather spend these trying times at home with his family, was chained to his desk. The only times he was let off the lead was when he had to frantically run from one station to another with the urgency and direction of a headless chicken.

Sir Integra and Dame Elizabeth were leading the operation personally. They would not rest until the issue was resolved. "Our men are frightened." Integra said to her grandmother. "The Philosophers have breached all blockades and are moments away from breaching the gates to the palace. We need to send in units to attack their rear. They're strong, but inexperienced. They won't be able to both attack and defend."

"Understood." Elizabeth replied, picking up the phone to issue the green light for the next wave to advance. She kept her mind focused on the issue at hand, despite her heart wanting to dwell on the state of her family. There was no word on Ciel's position from either Jim or the Watchdog himself. It worried her, but she had no other option but to place her trust in them. The angel had faith in the demons that they would be alright.

The other Hellsing, however, shook her head. "The Grenadiers are highly trained and are perfectly apt to defend the palace from human attackers… Unfortunately, they're rather ill-equipped to handle the supernatural… We will have to discuss the possibility of training them in anti-freak combat after this." Pausing, she let out a sigh. "What a mess, this is..."

She looked up when Elizabeth lowered the phone from her ear. "Integra, there's a bit of a situation..." the angel said.

"What?" Integra thought for a moment as Elizabeth gestured to the window. Suddenly, realisation crossed her face. "Don't tell me..."

Standing up, Integra saw figures approaching the gate. It was well-lit out there, so it was visible, even at night. Some appeared to be human-sized, but the few that stood out were massive, seemingly lumbering creatures. Seconds later, the telephone rang.

Once the call was done, Integra issued her next order and the rest of the base was alerted of the situation. She was very clear and very concise as to what she wanted everyone to be doing. Everyone was still required to do their jobs, although now with a gun on their desks. Each and every operative in the organisation was trained to use one just in case of this exact situation. The Combat Department would shift their attention from waiting to be deployed to Buckingham Palace, to defending the base. Fortunately for them, they had expanded and received a much larger budget than they had during the last large-scale supernatural attack on their headquarters. In addition, they had the surplus agents from other bases that they had preemptively called upon to defend the palace at their disposal. HELLSING was not going out without a sincere effort.

The front gates were bashed open. The outside of the stone walls and the pavement that led up to the driveway were covered in blood. No one was confident about the survival of the guards stationed there. They were torn apart by fangs and claws. The taste of their flesh was still fresh in the mouths of their murderers as the horde advanced. They did not come armed with only their claws, however. They had blades and armour.

And guns. Johnathan Beattie ensured that. After all, there was no way that pointed sticks and swords could stand a chance against assault rifles and grenades. They advanced with their army surplus store bullet proof vests and their homemade armour fashioned in a workshop on the Lexington estate premises. They trampled over virgin snow and bared their teeth, shouting and howling their mighty battle cries into the frozen air. The moonlight bouncing against the white ground lit their way.

The soldiers of HELLSING could see them. The soldiers could see them as they met them out in the field. HELLSING's troops hid behind stone walls that at first appeared to be decoration, but were in fact quite solid. They opened the windows and took aim with both machine guns and turrets on the roof, ready for the order to fire.

The invaders marched on and the defenders held firm. Fur bristled, breath escaped into the air as steam, and soldiers were poised to attack. Then, as soon as HELLSING's forces saw their faces, they did. A hail of bullets fell upon the Philosophers, prompting them to put up their shields. They had worked hard to perfect their bulletproof capabilities and it showed. Many were mowed down, staining the white snow red where they fell. Many, however, did not. Many, however, were thriving.

They continued to advance with their shields up and that was when the rooks registered what they were looking at. This was not merely a mishmash of monsters that they knew, but also ones that they did not. There were few of them, but they stood out. Their massive frames were difficult to miss, but easy to misinterpret, as none of the soldiers had ever seen such a grotesque creature.

It stood at roughly nine feet tall, with arms so long that their fingertips could touch their knees. The claws on their swollen hands were so big that they could be used as a small pocketknife if flattened. Their ears were pointed and their skin pulled so tightly, that it barely covered them. The large stretchmarks seemed to prove it. Veins pulsing and tendons moving were clearly visible underneath. The clothes- or in some cases, attempts at wearing clothes were insufficient due to their physique and they were naked in that they hadn't the fur of a proper werewolf. Instead, they had the same patches that most humans had, just fuller, longer, and shaggier. The hair on their head was filled with knots and tangles, but they didn't seem to mind. They had more pressing things to worry about, after all. Massive fangs protruded from their flat faces, making it seem as though their mouths couldn't close fully. Horrific. Truly horrific. Not even fully trained HELLSING operatives knew exactly what to make of them. These creatures couldn't fit behind shields, but they didn't have to. Instead, they held up their arms to block their heads and chests and moved forward, regenerating as fast as they could with each bullet that embedded itself into their flesh.

One of them, however, did not seem to appreciate this, and let out a roar. It wasn't the howl of a werewolf, nor was it a bark. It didn't sound like a dog in the slightest, nor did it sound like a big cat. It was deep, but also sharp. It sounded displeased. Suddenly, it dropped one of it's arms from protecting it's head and chest, and reached down, grabbing the head of one of it's allies and holding them up. The creature used it's own ally as a shield to stop the bullets.

Granted, from the glowing purple eyes of the unfortunate body, it was clear that it was a ghoul. Still, it was sickening. Upon further inspection, however, it was even worse. The ghoul was wearing civilian clothing. It wasn't a part of this. It was one of the people that the Philosophers had taken with them on New Year's Eve, still wearing their party clothes stained in dried blood. This was their fate.

None of them had yet reached the building and the field was covered in bodies. Mostly, they were ghouls, as they made good shields. Many of them had actual shields, however. It was simply that they happened to be shot by a higher caliber of bullet than their protection could withstand.

They arrived. They reached the barriers, forcing the HELLSING agents there to fall back to the next barriers behind those. Unfortunately for them, as soon as their backs were turned, their foes decided to pick up the pace, quickly closing the gap and lunging. Fangs pierced flesh and claws carved out large gashes, but still, HELLSING pressed on.

A soldier was descended upon by a human-like supernatural. The eyes were red, not purple, but still, both the supernatural and the agent were gunned down by the poor man's own, as they couldn't be certain in that moment as to whether or not he would become a ghoul than to wait for him to change.

Limbs twisted, necks and spines snapped, bodies were eviscerated by a hail of bullets. Both sides were taking losses. One of the large, nameless creatures picked up a soldier and picked them up, tearing open his belly with sharp claws and holding him over it's head with it's mouth wide open. It drank the poor soldier's blood before tossing the body aside.

Neither vampires nor werewolves could carry biological children unless there was some incredibly rare circumstance. In the case of the faoladh, it was their ability to transform at will. In the case of these creatures, it was because the Philosophers had access to what were essentially artificial wombs. Both werewolf and vampire, these creatures gave HELLSING hell. Hybrids. Werepires.

The beat threw it's head back in a mighty roar, warning those who would stand in it's way of what was to come. It was in that instant, however, that the creature was struck in the head by a massive force, taking off the top of it's head and leaving only the lower jaw connected to the neck. Slowly, it fell to the ground with a mighty thud. It's defeat caused it's comrades to pause and look for the source of the attack and before long, eyes were drawn up to the roof.

There, standing with a smoking canon, was a vampiress with short, black hair. In her hand was the Harkonnen Anti-Freak canon, but she wasn't the only one weilding it. Also on the roof with her was a female werewolf with pure, white fur, basking in the moonlight. Between them was another vampire; a blonde draculina with a slightly different model of canon held in each of her muscular arms. The Harkonnen MK II was at her disposal, but regardless of specs, all three HELLSING supernaturals were ready to enter the fray.

"Take out the big ones first." Seras Victoria instructed the others. "Rain hell on the others and you're bound to hit something."

"Yes, Ma'am!" Charlotte replied, reloading her weapon. With that, the other two raised their own and took aim.

"Search and destroy!" Seras roared before the trio brought down divine punishment upon the Philosophers. Massive bullets fell from the sky and pierced enemy forces. With the new opening, additional HELLSING forces continued their barrage, causing the Philosophers to become quickly overwhelmed by the superior firepower.

Their ranks broke apart. While many continued to fight, only to get mowed down, a significant portion of the invading forces took to fleeing the battlefield, deserting their cause entirely. The cold air cut their lungs like glass as they ran for their lives, stumbling over their own feet as they let fear guide them instead of reason or sight.

There was no hope for them to win that battle. They knew that now. They understood. They simply did the best they could with what they had from that point. Some stayed to fight, some stood frozen, only to be mowed down in a hail of bullets, and others became deserters. Fortunately for them, no one really cared. It wasn't a crime, like in human militaries. Not all of them were soldiers, however. They were infected, kidnapped, and brought to the battle as mere canon fodder to stall HELLSING from tending to the real battle. Unfortunately for the "real" soldiers of the Philosophers' army, their purpose wasn't any different. There was no hope for them to win that battle. They were never intended to.

Still, some actually made it to the front door by some miracle. Somehow, while charging, many of them built up the belief that if they could just make it inside, they would be able to slaughter the rest of HELLSING. After all, only a percentage of the orginisation was actually made up of combat units. Surely, they would be able to hold their own against some random secretary or IT consultant. When their fingers wrapped around the handle of the massive door to the organisation's front, they felt a rush of relief, only to have it ripped from them within seconds.

The doors were reinforced. The windows were bullet proof. If the Phantomhive mansion was built like a fortress, then what did that make HELLSING Headquarters? They didn't have some small amount put aside to occasionally improve the security of the place. They were funded by the government to be impenetrable. On the other side of that door were more soldiers. When looking through the windows, the Philosophers could see those same secretaries and IT consultants hiding under desks with guns. There was no hope. There was no hope at all. Frantically, fists pounded against the door and were sometimes exchanged for a shoulder ramming it instead. There was one lone vampire, clad in homemade armour with a battered shield, sitting on the steps of the base, looking down at their feet until something hit them and everything faded to black.

Their comrades at the palace were faring much better. There were far fewer supernatural agents of HELLSING to deal with, and the one that was there had a designated route to a designated spot where he was going to lie in wait. Most of them wouldn't run into him, but many did actually gain access to the building. Those who did run into him did not fare too terribly well.

Panting, a small group of invaders made their way down the hallway, taking out as many of their enemies as possible. All the while, they ran into bodies of humans and supernaturals alike scattering the hallways. Soon vomit covered the floor as the sound of retching combined with the machine gun ambiance once they group stopped for a moment.

"Hurry up, Reuben!" scolded Brittany. Her voice was hushed, but urgent as she whipped her head around, looking for any signs of trouble. The teen was slightly older than the Pomeroy boy and also much larger than him, given her lycanthrope nature. She took advantage of both facts in order to talk down to him, not caring that the lad's older brother was with them.

Coughing, the youngest of the remaining Pomeroys raised his head, looking up at the beings that were with him. They were both far bigger than him- even his brother, the oldest of the remaining siblings. Under the full moon, he had transformed, after being subject to experimentation in the Gardening Center before it was raided by HELLSING and handed over by Finnian. His appearance was odd, however. Lord knows what was injected into him, exactly. Despite being a werewolf, he lacked fur and didn't grow any more, leaving only the hair that was already present on his body in his human form and the tattoos on his skin. He looked wrong… Misshapen… He didn't look at all like Rueben's brother to the lad, but then again, it was always sort of difficult to see him as such.

As for Brittany, she claimed to have been found in the woods on the Phantomhive property. From there, they helped her find a place in the supernatural world. Unfortunately, it wasn't the world that she had hoped for. It too, was stifled by the same rules back home. It was impossible to live out her ideal life as a strong, noble, werewolf who listened to nobody. Unfortunately for her, she made the choice to listen to Abhartach and join him. That was why she was in the situation she was now. That was why she had to wait on Reuben to stop vomiting at the sight of dead bodies.

"Okay..." the lad said, sniffing. Straightening his back, he held on to his gun tightly, fixing his grip. "I'm good."

"Let's keep moving." the oldest of the group, Dennis Pomeroy ordered. "It's got to be around here, somewhere..."

They began to move, with the werewolves staying slow enough to allow Reuben to keep up. He was tired. He didn't want to go any further. He had to, though. If he didn't, he would surely die.

Certainly, Reuben hadn't always been the best person, growing up. In fact, he idolised his brothers and his father for the longest time and wanted to follow in their footsteps, but no more. He was done with this. He had been taken as payment for his father's debts to the Philosophers and used in experiments. The intention was to turn them into soldiers for the Philosophers' Society, since they weren't good for much else. The oldest brother, Jared Pomeroy, even died from it. None of them had any idea what happened to their sister. They knew that she was married off to the boss' son- or at least, she was supposed to be. After that, they didn't know. They never heard anything about it. It was miserable. They were separated and treated like animals. Livestock. Reuben didn't want any more, but he didn't want to die, either. That was why he kept going despite having no stake in this.

His brother, however, thought about things differently. In his eyes, he was gaining power, rather than losing it. This was his way to nobility, since his family had been stripped of their title years ago. His older brother was out of the way, he was one of the first ones inside the palace, and he was poised to bring himself glory. If he impressed, he was certain that he would earn a reward from his king. One was on the verge of giving up, while the other was just getting started. They craved for the battle to be over soon.

"I want to hurry and get there first." Brittany said as they started moving again. "If we lock things down before Abhartach gets there, he might notice us!"

"He's already noticed us." Dennis replied, glancing back over his shoulder at the girl, then to his brother. Reuben lowered his head.

"Lucky." the girl replied. "Did he give you a title?"

"Once this is over, I will be an Earl." the older Pomeroy informed. "Rueben will be a Baron… If he pulls this off."

Reuben didn't even have any way to respond to that. He couldn't. His eyes were tired and vacant as he stared blankly ahead. His vision was tunneled and his hearing was muffled. It was as though his mind was separating from his body as his senses seemed to be failing. The poor lad was dirty and covered in blood. It was someone else's, but still. Reuben was a bit of a bully before all of this, but he had never hurt anyone badly enough to the point where their blood splattered across his face. His fingers were numb, but he was certainly going to feel the effects of his current white-knuckled deathgrip on his weapon later. The others talked, but he couldn't hear them He couldn't see them. All he could to was thoughtlessly follow the vague impression of them. Thinking was too hard. Being afraid was too hard as well. The lad's mind had surpassed fear. Now, he could feel nothing. If was as though he were dead and yet, he was still walking.

"Do you smell that?" questioned Dennis, inhaling deeply before letting out a breath through his mouth. He then sniffed the air more carefully. "It smells like blood, but… there's something else."

"There's blood everywhere. The whole place reeks." Brittany replied.

"No… It's not that… It's like… Somethings burning?"

The two dwelled on this when a scream rang out, followed by a gunshot. There was heavy panting around the corner. It was unclear whether either of those sounds belonged to friend or foe. Similarly, the pleading the followed remained anonymous until a second or so afterwards.

"No..! Please!"

The sound of something being hit really hard echoed throughout the hallway before the owner of the voice was thrust into view. He came flying from around the corner, having been struck hard enough to be sent flying backwards from the connecting hallway. No uniform matching Britain's side was seen as the man smashed into the wall, his face bloodied and butalised. Slowly, the victim slid down to the floor and slumped over, resting his ear against his shoulder.

BANG!

A bullet flew through the his forehead, causing the freshly made corpse to twitch. The Philosopher trio froze. Their eyes were wide and their bodies were tense as they waited. They had their hands on their weapons, ready to strike whatever it was that did this when it came out to get them. It didn't, however. Instead, the sound of footsteps seemed to be traveling away from them, growing more and more faint with each passing second. Dennis furrowed his brow.

"What the fuck?" he growled. His face morphed into a snarl as he took the first few steps forward, prompting Brittany to reach out after him.

"Wait!" she said before trotting after him. "Wait for me!"

For a moment, Reuben just stood there, not yet registering what was happening. Then, as his mind caught up, he started walking, too. As he rounded the corner, his mind could not piece together the image that his eyes were seeing, but he tried his best. His brother and his fellow survivor were confronting a man in a long black coat and a white shirt. The man's hair was pale and his eyes glowed red. His metal-coated fists were red as well. They were dripping. Puddles of blood gathered on the floor where he paused, looking over his shoulder at the group with little interest. Dennis, however, looked very interested.

"Die!" he howled, pulling the trigger, but the pale-haired man dropped down low with his legs wide, almost as if he were intent on doing the splits. Then, he propelled himself forward like a bullet before arriving right in front of the naked wolf-man and reaching up, grabbing the barrel of his rifle. Jim pulled hard, forcing it out of the naked wolfman's grasp before shoving it forward, aiming it just so the butt of the rifle popped Dennis in the jaw. While the Pomeroy was reeling, Jim turned the weapon around so that he himself was holding it properly. In one swift motion, he had it aimed at Dennis and pulled the trigger, filling the man's arm full of bullets as the other man tried to shield himself. Dennis cried out in agony, clutching at his injured arm. Jim shot at him until the gun let out a soft click.

"Mister Phantomhive!" the wolfwoman called out, causing the blonde's eyes to flicker in her direction for a moment. "Stop! Don't hurt us! It's me! Remember? You helped me when me and my friends were out in your woods!"

Jim thought back for a moment, looking her over. He recognised her despite her appearance, but only because he could sense her. "You're the one who tried to play with knives with your stupid friend." Jim said. "You better not be doing what I think you're doing here… I told you to stay out of trouble."

"I..." the woman wasn't sure as to what to say. She didn't think any truth she could give him was anything that he wanted to hear. She had just seen him shoot Dennis, so she knew it was dangerous to tell the truth. Still, what else could she say? "We're going to fix things." she told him. "Supernaturals and humans both are treated like shit in society. Society isn't fair, so-"

"You're going to overthrow the current government and install your own all-powerful ruler and he's going to magically make things wonderful." the blonde concluded for her. "Yeah, yeah… Bullshit. Let me tell you something right now: I know how unfair this shit is. I know how unfair 'society' is. I also know that this shit isn't going to work for multiple reasons. I understand that things haven't turned out the way you wanted, but maybe you should try to focus on getting your shit together a bit better before storming in here, practically begging for me to blow your head off."

"Figures..." the young woman huffed, looking down. "You're one of them, with your nice house and big stacks of money… You wouldn't understand."

"I understand damn well. My personal sob story isn't any of your business, though. I'm not here to negotiate or argue, but, because I'm an adult, I'm giving you one last chance: Surrender now and flee the battlefield. Now."

"Why?" Brittany asked. "I'm fighting for what I believe in just like you! I agree with Abhartach! Why don't you? You're a supernatural too!"

"Save your fucking breath, kid..." grunted Dennis, wincing as his wounds slowly closed. "People like him don't give a shit. You can go on and on all day about how life isn't fair, but he's at the top, so he doesn't care. We're here to claim our glory. He already has his and he doesn't want to share."

"Glory?" echoed Jim with a blatant scoff. "You call this 'glory?' You call putting people in danger, recruiting child soldiers, and forcing innocent civilians to fight for your cause 'glorious?' You're fucking disgusting. You've always been disgusting. I don't know why the fuck you don't have any fur, but I can see your tattoos. I recognise them from the files I was given on your family. Pomeroy. Dennis Pomeroy. Thanks for coming. Save me the trouble of hunting you down after."

"What's that?" the wolfman growled, narrowing his eyes at the demon.

"You. Are. Disgusting. What part of that don't you get? There's no glory for human traffickers. You're scum. The lot of you are. You've always been scum, even back when you were the Trancys. Always using your power to sell and buy slaves… Isn't that what this is about? You don't actually have that power anymore, so you want it back. Isn't that it?"

"My family deserves it. It is our birthright!"

"Boo hoo. You want power because of your genes? You think you deserve it because of who your family is? You're not even noble and you still believe that shit… That's sad… Really sad. What gives you the right? You didn't do anything. None of you did. You just piggy backed off of the legacy of whoever stole everything the first time and say that you deserve it. Why? Because your great-grand-daddy was rich and powerful enough to steal. And that somehow makes you genetically better? It's so pathetic it's not even funny."

"I'm reclaiming it for myself with my own hands. It's mine. I've fought for it. I've sacrificed my body for it!" Dennis declared. "I am Dennis Pomeroy! Soon to be Earl Pomeroy! Get the fuck out of my way!"

"I ain't moving. You can try and make me, but it won't end well for you. You'll just end up like the rest of the Pomeroys. You're all weak and you always have been. You'll only end up dying like the rest."

The Pomeroy narrowed his eyes and snarled. "What do you know about us?" he asked.

"More than you will ever know." answered the demon. "I don't have to test you. I know you're a monster and you won't change. So come on. Let's get this over with. Add another one to the pile."

The gears turned in Dennis' head. Now, he wasn't exactly the smartest of the Pomeroys, but his brains hadn't completely been knocked out of his skull from fist fights. He was a violent man, arrested or had the police otherwise called several times for drunken brawls, violent assaults, and even some domestic violence. Needless to say, the man had a temper- at least, that's what he always told people. In reality, he liked having control over people. Not having it made him angry. When other people had control over him, that made him even angrier. His older brother, Jared was the smart one, even if he was a complete wuss. It took Dennis longer to put the pieces together, but when he did, he was even angrier than any of his family members would have been combined.

"You..!" He uttered a low growl, clenching his fists. This was him. This blonde man in front of Dennis. He was the one who had done it. He's the one responsible for everything. His grandfather, his uncle, his cousins, and even his own father died because of this man. Dennis' father lost the business to the Philosophers because he didn't know anything about business. His uncle Julian did. When Julian was killed, it put Dennis' father in a tough position, forcing him to have to hand over Sasha Pomeroy to be a bride to Abhartach's son. When Dennis' father died, the Philosophers claimed the rest of the Pomeroy children. Jared died and Reuben was forced to fight. Dennis didn't mind the power he gained from all of this in the end, but it still pissed him off. Because of Jim, Dennis lost control of his life and that made him angry.

"Me." Jim mockingly replied.

"I'll kill you!" Dennis roared, charging forward. His brow was furrowed, his fangs were bared, and his eyes were aflame as his feet hit the ground with thunderous, heavy, thuds. Onward! Forward! He had the demon in his sights! And he wasn't moving! He didn't seem to be able to react! Dennis aimed right for him at full speed and prepared to strike. Just as he thought this was over for the menace, Jim raised his pistol and aimed it right at Dennis' head. With a pull of the trigger, Dennis stopped running. Only his momentum kept him moving forward as he fell. The demon, on the other hand, took a step to the side and let him.

"Dennis!" Brittany called out, hoping to God that the Phantomhive somehow missed. She lurched forward and the menace turned, keeping his gun at the ready. This time, he aimed for her. It fired and suddenly, there was a large gash on her cheek. Blinking, tears formed in her eyes and a chill ran down her spine at the realisation of her injury.

"Last chance." Jim warned. "You're young. You've got your whole life ahead of you. You have all the time in the world to put yourself on a different path. Turn back now! The only reason why you're still standing is because I am opposed to killing people needlessly. I don't miss. Please, don't use up any more chances. There's no need for it. Just go. Run away while you still can. Choose to survive."

"You shot him..." the young woman silently cried. Her voice was weak from the shock of it all.

"Go." the demon ordered, raising his voice. "Go, now! You've suffered enough, haven't you?! Both of you! Just leave! You have a choice! Just take it and go! You can believe in whatever the fuck you want, but it won't change the fact that if you don't go, I will kill you! Please! Just leave!"

Why wasn't this girl walking away?! Didn't she know the risks? Didn't she know what was at stake? She can believe that society isn't fair. She can believe that supernaturals get the short end of the stick and that the wealthy elite aren't always deserving of their position. Alois was right there with her in agreement. She just needed to realise that it wasn't worth dying over. Survival was important above all else. Why couldn't she see that? Why was she making him beg her like this? To torture him? To force him into killing another teenager? He didn't want to! Yet, he knew what he had to do if she advanced. That's why he really didn't want her to advance. She needed to turn back and search for any remain of normalcy that she may be able to cling to.

"You shot him!" Brittany declared as her senses returned to her. "Why would you do that?! Why would you shoot your people?! Aren't you supposed to help?!"

"Don't..." growled the lion, keeping his pistol trained on her forehead.

Her legs tensed as she shifted from the urge to run and the urge to fight. Her mind wrestled with it. She knew what the sensible thing to do was. She knew what she wanted to do, but her desire to be right was slowly being drowned out by her instinct of self-preservation. There was hesitation, but eventually, the girl turned away from the man and took off. Now, he had one last dilemma.

One child remained, staring vacantly at the sight of his brother's body as it laid crumpled in a heap. Reuben Pomeroy didn't respond. He didn't even acknowledge that Brittany had left, leaving him alone with the demon. As he was, he was in no condition to be quizzed by Jim about right and wrong. Jim didn't even know if the lad was aware of his family's business. There was no way for the Saint of Scoundrels to judge him. Thus, there was no moral reason for him to kill this boy.

Yet, if there was anything that Jim had learned from recent events, it's that loose ends can come back to bite you. Johnathan did when Ciel left him alive, so why shouldn't Reuben? It made sense. Jim killed his family and left him an orphan. He killed his older sibling in front of his very eyes. Surely, he was upset by that. Or perhaps his mind was too overwhelmed? He had obviously shut down. Would he even remember? What would he do about it? Did he have the capability? Did he need all of his strength for recovering? Could he recover at all? Not all boys were of Jim's constitution, after all. It wasn't any fault of their own, nor anyone else's, but it was a fact of life, as far as the menace could see.

"What about you?" the blonde questioned, lowering his gun. "You gonna go? Live as happy of a life you can? You should. It's possible. I know it is. I know what it is like to have no one."

Reuben's eyes shifted from his brother to his brother's murderer, but his face was still blank. It was unreadable. Jim didn't know what to do with it. He didn't know what to do with any of it. He didn't want to shoot Reuben. It didn't matter if he was a Pomeroy or not. Jim found it hard to raise his gun. This wasn't some random supernatural wearing a young face, this was a child. Jim was fine with human traffickers and murderers, but children? He wanted to run away from it.

"Just go away." Jim pleaded. "Go away and never come back."

Reuben just stood there with his own gun in hand. He would not move. He would not go. He would not heed Jim's warning. He would not listen. He could not listen! His mind was not all there right then and there but that didn't negate the fact that a choice had to be made. Jim had to chose what he was going to do with him.

BANG!

A single shot went off and the boy fell. He fell backwards, dropping his gun and landing on his back. With unyielding conviction, Jim did what he had to in order to reach the end. No matter how hard, no matter how painful, that is what he did. That is what he was known for. Yet, it still hurt so much.

Vomit threatened to work it's way up into the man's throat as images flashed in front of his eyes. His heart quickened, his breathing became ragged, and he doubled over. A thousand sights, sounds, and smells washed over him all at once and he felt an unshakable, suffocating sense of disgust that would not leave him. He covered his mouth with one hand while wrapping his free arm around his waist, hugging himself. He staid like that for a few moments, gathering himself enough to keep moving again. With a grunt, he slowly shuffled forwards, fighting memories and guilt.

He was just a kid.

The blonde staggered forward, taking slow, deep breaths. The hallway was long and he needed to move quickly. There wasn't much time left. He needed to get to his spot before Abhartach did. The sound of gunshots and yelling and screaming and howling echoed throughout the building. The smell of iron permeated the air. Still, he put one foot in front of the other and carried on. He kept walking. He kept moving. He had to. He couldn't stop until he reached the end.

At last. He was there.

The throne room was large and vast, heavily and elaborately decorated in precious metals, stones, and fine fabrics. Red carpet, red walls, no blood in sight, but the blood of nobility. It was a smaller room than the demon had envisioned, but it was still more than he bargained for. It felt like he wasn't supposed to be there. He shouldn't have even thought about it. He was worse than a commoner; he was a former slave! Yet there he was, alone in a sacred place. It was so pristine, so pure, and it was his responsibility- and his responsibility alone- by whatever bizarre twist of fate, to preserve it. All of it rested on his scoundrel shoulders. What cruel joke was this?

He hated it. He hated how it made him feel. It rubbed salt in his freshly reopened wounds, reminding him of his place. Jim Phantomhive- Jim Macken, was a slave parading in the company of nobility and wealth, pretending like he belonged there. Constantly, he broke their bizarre rules, since he lacked the cultural capital to find them sensible or even know that they existed. Knight, baronet, baron, viscount, earl… Lord this, lady that, grand such and such, who knew who or what any of that was? Jim didn't. He never knew anything. He was so close, teetering on the edge just outside of that world, looking in. Instead, the world he understood was that on the receiving in of their violence and depravity.

Jim didn't understand them. He didn't understand why they were allowed to do that- why they were aloud to flounce around, crushing people under their heels for the fun of it. What gave them the right? God, apparently. But why did God decide that all of those kids were put on this earth for the purpose of being abused by them? God didn't decided that. The ones abusing their power did. Because they had power, that gave them the right. It made them better. Great-great-great grandfather so-and-so stole a bunch of land and subjugated a bunch of people a long time ago, and that granted them that right. They didn't earn their power and even if they did, why couldn't any of them use their power to help people instead of hurt them? Like Ciel did? Like Integra did? Or Elizabeth? There shouldn't be a select few "good nobles," all of them should be good. If they were going to claim noblesse oblige, then they had to mean it.

Ah, the menace was really worked up. There was no time for such thoughts. It wasn't what he was meant to be worrying about then and there. What mattered was Britain and everyone who would be affected by this if he were to fail. It was his duty, not as a noble, or even a HELLSING agent, but as a halfway decent man to protect them. That was why he did this. It didn't matter what his thoughts or feelings were. He was not going to allow these monsters to plunge the world into chaos for any reason.

So he took up his post, walking into the forbidden room, knowing that Abhartach would find it and sat down on the steps of the throne. This was were his loyalty was. This was where he would wait for Abhartach. That was the chivalry that Britain's scoundrelly Lion abided by and would follow through with to the end of this.


A/N: Hello~! Long time, no see! I'm sorry about that... Life got in the way, y'know? Weird school schedule, car troubles, that kind of thing. My car was hit and I ended up having to get a new one. Nobody was hurt, but it was a really unnecessary situation. (Don't illegally pass people! The line is double-yellow for a REASON!) That's sorted, but I'm still working with the school schedule, so I don't know how much my pace will improve! I'll still try to put things out as quickly as I can!

There was one more thing stalling things, though, and that's the chapter itself. The scene where Dennis, Brittany and Reuben confront Jim was changed so it's now COMPLETELY different than I had planned, so I had to sort of work out the schematics of that. It was really tough, and I'm still not quite happy with it.

There's some other really important stuff in this chapter, though. One is werepires, and the second is Jim's thoughts on nobles. It's not that he hates the Queen and wants to overthrow everything and believes all nobles are evil, or anything, either. Though, remember those musings and think about who might feel similarly. That's important. It'll make things more interesting later on.

I did get a question, though, and it's interesting! I'm actually just going to post the whole thing because it's big and I don't want to miss anything! Also! Spoilers for the Black Butler manga. If you haven't read it and haven't seen anything from it and might, this might be a bit shocking.

"The Twin Ciel Theory is Canon right? In context of the manga anyway.

(I'm fresh off of Reddit)

What I want to know from this story, or more accurately, from the Ciel Phantomhive of DLTD/DLTP is how would he react to this?

Let me put it into perspective.

In another universe, perhaps parallel to this one, Ciel Phantomhive was born a twin, and it was in fact the 'Real' Ciel Phantomhive that died that night instead of 'Our' Ciel Phantomhive, and went on to masquerade as his dead twin. How, when, and why would your Ciel have revealed this to Alois, or anyone for that matter? Or would he have become the 'Real' Ciel Phantomhive at this point?

Basically, what would DLTD/DLTP Ciel's reaction be to knowing this is a fact in another universe? And IF this was canon to your story how, when, where, and why would he reveal this to Ciel? Or perhaps this would be an entire arc?" by Celica Queen Of The Hunt

A doozy! The twin theory is canon in the manga, yes! It isn't canon in DLTD, though. Pooch is an only child.

I think he would be like: "okay, that's neat." and wouldn't really mind all that much because that's an alternate universe and doesn't really apply to him. I think the more pressing thing would be the fact that he exists in alternate universes at all and that they are in fact, real. He would probably think about what it might be like to have a sibling, but if he knew about the drama between those lads in the manga? I don't think he'd believe himself to be missing out, too terribly much! He would sympathise with his eyepatch-wearing counterpart, though. Seeing your family who died before your very eyes coming back to "life" (Is he even "alive?") would be insanely fucked up.

Jim, on the other hand, would immediately want to adopt them and teach them some fucking manners, though, pfft! Also would complain about how nobles treat children. "See?! This shit is wack. You treat your fucking kids as equals! Nobles are fucked up, man!" May need to be reminded that they were being raised by counterparts of his own in-laws, but you get the idea...

If he found out that his husband was in that situation? He wouldn't be mad or upset. He'd be sad that his husband went through that and be supportive. His husband is the same person he's always been, and that's what matters most to him. That's real. Names don't matter. And if he thought they did, he would be a huuuuuuuuuuge hypocrite. ("Earl Alois Trancy" would need a bit of a side-eye for that.) Ultimately, it would probably bring them closer. I don't know when Ciel would reveal that, but it ultimately would be something he would have to come clean about. He's very earnest and would feel as though he was not loving his spouse "properly" because he isn't being genuine.

Until the next chapter, my duckies~!