Chapter 3
'Til the body lasts.
[1954, somewhere grim and isolated in the middle east]
Millenium's hounds raided the area they had bombed down to ashes in search for something rare. Something special that the Major wanted to get his hands on, of at least confirm was real.
All they had encountered so far were burned down skeletons, or their remains at least. What they were looking for was different. They knew the blast wouldn't have damaged it, that it should be practically intact, but they still had trouble searching.
They piled up the remains and burned them down to make sure they wouldn't spring back to life. In their job you never knew what could go down.
They eventually got to the epicenter of the temple ruins, some strange altar that had crumbled was there. A deep hole like a fontain was in there. The ghouls carefully walked closer with their weapons drawn, accounting for surprises.
When they got there and catched a good glimpse, they eyed a weird sight: An iron casket, large enough to fit a big and tall man. It was destroyed, by sheer force and strength of whoever was inside. It seemed like someone was wide awake now. The question was where.
As in unison with the discovery, there was word of notice from a nearby soldier of their ranks.
"I think we've got one more for the fire, herr captain." Came from a scout of the ones raiding the place after finding what looked like another rotten corpse. An unfortunate scout on that, because as soon as he turned to resume the scavenging, a devilish shape reformed right in front of him. They had found the man of the casket and he played them like a damn fiddle into his game.
"Oh, bUt thEre's plenTY moRe than oNe, actuALly."
Had it been Alucard, as they were used to, that would have been a swarm of bats forming a humanoid shape armed with a pair of pistols. But even a heavy bullet from that to the face would have been merciful compared to what they were about to witness. Purple flames covered the man and engulfed him, healing him and regrowing his skin. Charred bugs hopped on him, melting down onto him until he was halfway becoming what he used to be.
In that decomposed rotten state that even the ghouls found unnerving, something lit up the man's face for good: a crooked snarl with crooked teeth.
The closest soldier fired his carabine as quick as he could, the man didn't even care. They thought that would nail him but as the bullets stormed through the air towards him, the man just walked through, letting the bullets bounce off his ribcage area. He closed the meters gap between himself and the soldier in a way that made him seem like a blurr and when he was there, his hand found it's way into the soldier's spine.
With a squeeze and a hard pull, he ripped out the spine, the skull still attached to it.
The others froze for a short time at this display but they quickly responded by firing all their weapons simultaneously. It made no difference to the man. He zoomed to their position with a speed that left a sonic boom, covering dozens of feet in a moment. His body pretty much danced through the gunfire, not even once tagged.
Three soldiers got split in pieces with a fierce slash from the claw-like hands, which then gripped the head of the closest ghoul, squeezing it until the point of squishing.
With each life he took, his body revitalized faster and better, and he would soon regain his old glory.
Having depleted ammo, two more ghouls tried to slam the butts of their rifles against the great man, only for him to stop them with open palms and rip them from their hands.
The man then proceeded to use them to bludgeon his two attackers in a melee frenzy.
But his sharp senses caught and analyzed a few sounds in the background, recognizing the threats. A rocket had just gotten launched, aimed for his head. In a display of his speed, he moved his upper body swiftly to a side, letting the projectile fly past him harmlessly. But he then asked himself, why stop there?
Now in a quick movement of his hand that no one could perceive, faster than the eye could track and enough to make the rocket seem frozen, his left hand seized it, and then twisting his stance a little, he re-directed it and threw it back at it's sender.
The rocket went deep through a ghoul soldier's chest, blowing him up from the inside and letting out a bloody display of guts and chunks all around.
He then struck his fists against the ground, leaving the rest of the attackers confused as to what he was doing but they didn't waste any time as they began shooting him with their automatic weapons.
But a burst of large black spikes rose erected from the ground and blocked their offense, then a second surge of these spikes sprouted right below the gunners, impaling and lifting them a couple of meters from the ground in all sorts of weird angles.
The ones that were further away pulled the pins of their grenades and hurled them at the man. He watched silently as they exploded right in front of his face as he walked closer in a crooked stance. There was no damage done to be seen. In response to that nuisance, he stretched out his arm and spikes quickly flew out of his palm, digging into the brains of the offenders easily.
Having spent enough time healing and consuming to speed up the process, the man's semblance and overall look became better. He stood 7 feet tall, with long hair that went straight behind his but not on the sides. His eyes were shiny white, eyeballs spinning until their pupils faced front, crimson colored. His ears were slightly pointy and he sported a clean and slight beard. He was covered in blood and he didn't bother about that, not in the middle of the rush and adrenaline pump he was in.
He wasn't a skinny and crooked decomposed body anymore, because each monster he ripped filled him in a dreadful but delightful way.
'Mathias, enough playing with the food.' An eerie thought of him came. His mind assured him.
Listening to his more rational aspect, Mathias Drake kept walking forward to meet and be greeted by quite some opposition.
The kraut bastards had gathered their arsenal and ranks in front of him, thinking they could bring him down with their tanks. There were 4 of these tanks and in the blink of an eye they were already firing off alongside their scouts and heavy soldiers. Their shells, bullets and other projectiles soon created a curtain of smoke and fire around the Drake and they kept it going for about half a minute.
The shape of Drake dissapeared from their sight with all the smoke around and for that time they actually thought him to be done for. They ceased to fire but only after their ammo got depleted. They stayed in place, staring and watching to make sure the target was down.
Damn fools, they should have ran away and called it a day when the chance was given to them.
Clouds quickly dispersed all over the area, where there once was a clear sky. The clouds were massive and fully charged, in a very odd way. They seemed like storm clouds, cumulinimbus as they were scientifically called.
This all slightly took their attention away from the beast they were fighting, and it freaked them out the whole event was related to him, that he was directly causing it. Such thing wasn't expected.
The sound of mighty thunder broke the silence hard. The weather the Millenium soldiers witnessed was far from normal or natural. The sky turned red for a moment and when they wondered what the fuck was going on, the Drake's voice could be heard right behind them to enlighten them.
"You may think this is bad but for God's sake, really? I'm the one who will have to walk the whole fucking road alone." He quipped before calling down red lighting on the surprised and unsuspecting enemies.
The outcome was devastating. Tanks, trucks, the men, all vaporized with fatality. Drake's face, like the unholy sky above him, lit up. This with a blissful smile.
He may search for inner peace most of the time, but those slaughters against the scum were always good to his black heart. He was having fun in a twisted way but it sat well on him.
Now, to move out of the dump and find his purpose in this age. Perhaps more creatures needed to be slain. It didn't matter, he had all the time he needed, the Deadside's secrets were revealed to him and he would use them for good.
Hopping between worlds had enlightened him and consuming enough heathens would give him the scoope to the new era awaiting him.
During his fight and the subsequent walk, he snatched some midnight snacks. Scouts who at least knew some crap.
He was on the 50's, meaning that Dr. Randolph could still be waiting for his return, with a lot of candidates to join his humble army of salvation.
The foolish krauts of Millenium had searched for him too, probably to abuse his powers for their lost but die hard cause. Making clones and slaves of the sort. They found his resting place and bombed it down before ravaging it.
A few dark monks who watched over him were wasted in the attack. Too bad, but their dedication and names would be remembered. The whole temple was reduced to small rubble and ashes but not him. Not even their nukes would shake him, not even while asleep.
In response, Drake had to awaken earlier than expected and make good use of his powers in the world.
So Mathias ran more crooked miles until he was out of that barren wasteland in the middle east. He took the chance to stretch his legs a little go through the sky, getting past cloud height with a huge leap in a few seconds.
He had things to do but before carrying them out he needed to know what worked and what didn't. He just had to roll with it, life was movement after all.
[Hellsing manor, 5:30 am]
Michael woke up early after the uncomfortable sleep he had and visions he witnessed. It didn't take him much time or thought to go to the bathroom and wash his face a little. He looked at himself in the mirror for a moment. Being the Shadowman meant that he didn't age like a normal human. He would have liked to before, but he was way past that now. He didn't have a family or friends to worry about and he figured out that things should stay like that.
Still the asshole of the universe he thought. The feelings were different but his work was the same.
He went into the shower and washed off the scent of swamp that emanated from him. Couldn't risk having that in front of his hosts.
He began dressing, putting on his old pants and brushing them off, just as he did that, there was a knock on his door.
"May I?" Asked a female voice that he quickly identified as Seras. Michael put on his shirt and buttoned it up fast before calmly replying.
"Of course."
The door was then opened, revealing Seras, standing with a basket full of clothes. Good thing, Mike didn't want the reek of swamp on his clothes in such a classy place.
"Integra didn't want you to have dirty clothes so we took the liberty of giving you options. Call it a favor."
"Thanks." Mike replied honestly. He felt respect towards his hosts for the unnecessary but appreciated attention.
"I take it you didn't sleep too well last night. You made quite a few noises."
Vampires, super hearing, Figures. Maybe privacy would be hard with that but Michael rarely had anything to hide.
"You got that right. Don't blame yourselves though, it would have happened anyway."
Seras was rather curious about his thoughts, but she knew better than to just inquire right away without the need to. She respected the man.
"Integra also wants you to meet with her in the debriefing room. It wasn't all too hard cracking the files you found for us."
So there was progress, good. Every minute that passed, Michael could feel the urge to go find the dark minds playing with them and tear down their walls. Seras could relate. She turned around so Michael could change clothes, which he did quickly.
"You know, you never quite shared with us what exactly your package is. It's not necessary but it would be nice." Seras said, her attention caught by Michael's satchel. Michael's eyebrows were raised at this.
"Just that? Take a good peek if you wish." He replied with all calm, placing it down on the bed for Seras to inspect. She suspected a wide arsenal, not like it would fit there though, at least at first sight. The moment she thrusted her hand carefully, she felt quite a lot of space and well occupied. Michael smirked at this.
"Deceiving looks, huh?" Seras commented as she watched.
Michael and Seras walked towards Integra's office, chatting along the way. Michael really had to praise the inner decoration and architectics in the home. It was a big honor to Mike to walk in the home of a Hellsing. He was a major outcast everywhere but in bars back at Lousiana so being received and welcome there, that was just a nice feeling.
"Did it really hurt when she knit that thing into your ribs?" Seras asked about the mask of shadows, bonded to Mike's chest.
"I was asleep when it happened, and I do thank for it." Mike replied honestly. "So, do you like sleep in an actual coffin?"
"That's right. It's quite comfortable, I assure you. Old habit picked up from my master."
"Right. Well then, I take it you don't go out in broad daylight without a hat and glasses."
"I'm not as susceptible to sunlight as some have made me out to be, I do avoid it though. Tell me about your boss, is she bearable?"
"Somewhat. Agnetta might be a literal and metaphorical witch but she's got her way with her subjects. I never had to do something I didn't feel right about. How about Integra?"
"I can take it. She's wise, even if she seems like a stone cold bitch at times. England would be fucked ten times without her."
"I can see why."
The two of them opened the door, greeting the guards who responded with nods. There they saw Integra, she motioned for them to sit and listen to what she had for them.
"Morning, Mr. LeRoi, enjoying your stay I hope." She cordially greeted before moving to the main subject.
"Yes, for real. I'm led to believe you have something for me." Michael said, going to the point.
"And me too. Something about Drake?" Seras added, making her presence and involvement in the matter clear.
"Oh yes, we looked into the files you salvaged. They were most useful in tying the links of Drake's operation." Integra explained to her acquaintances.
"Did anything pop into the radar?'
"A place. A bar here in England. The man was careful to not leave traces behind but his goons didn't seem to think the same. They have meetings in the basement, they seem to traffic weapons through some tunnels."
"An underground network it is. Founded and built at the dawn of the twentieth century. I've read this before, thrilling tales." Michael said, elaborating his deduction.
"So the crooks have been living right under our noses all along. I don't like that." Seras responded in understanding.
"Well then, we've got it. We will go there at night, when it's full the most." Michael stated.
"Give them something to consider." Seras supplied. "I like it."
"I don't want you wreaking havoc on the streets so keep it quiet. It would be unfortunate to have witnesses, specially here where we live." Dictated Integra, making her orders clear to Michael and Seras, who nodded in response. "Get all the information you can and then shut them down."
"Don't worry. It'll be dead silent." Michael assured her. Seras smirked at this.
"Speak for yourself on that." She said. With all cleared out, Michael bowed a little in respect and exited the office with Seras, thinking of what to do next. The dreams still plagued him though, he couldn't help it but feel his mind invaded by what looked like Drake.
As he walked, Michael thought of opening a little about that, only for Seras to do so first, surprising him.
"I had a weird dream last night. A man, tearing a bunch of kraut dogs to shreds. Thought I'd let you know." She told him, thinking of the images again.
"Yeah, I had a weid dream too. Happens a lot as of now."
And cut, done with this chapter, sorry if I'm dragging a little, I did have a blast writing Drake's scenes. Do leave your thoughts and I do hope you enjoy. Next chapter should be more straight to the point. Sending good vibes on your way. Thanks for reading, y'all. You can leave suggestions too.