PART ONE

Montreal, Quebec, Canada

The meat was tough and sinewy, but that didn't make it any less delicious. Puck was heavy for such a little guy, but Hawkeye didn't mind. He'd picked him from out of the entire Alpha Flight bunch not for any practical reason, just for the novelty. Some of the Avengers and the X-Men had made light of Puck's size and now Hawkeye could brag that he got to eat him. The term he'd dubbed him in battle was 'snack size'.

Blood stained the snow and the sidewalks, the windows, the cars, everything. Only minutes ago perfect destruction reigned and the Avengers, their allies and the Canadian team Alpha Flight were there to put an end to it. The only problem was that the Avengers started the carnage in the first place. No longer were they heroes, icons, warriors of freedom: now they were death incarnate, their only interest to submit to the inhuman hunger that had overtaken them.

Colonel America licked the blood from his fingers after taking another healthy bite of Guardian's disembodied arm. It was all that was left of Alpha Flight except for the head of Northstar which Thor was occupied with, picking all of the meat clean from his bones.

"This is strangely satisfying," Colonel America mused. "That'll show those smug Canadian bastards to lock horns with the Avengers."

"You didn't do it alone, bub." Wolverine was licking the ground where a pool of blood had formed. Feeding didn't stave off their hunger for long. It would only be a few hours before reason and logic were taken over again with animalistic bloodlust.

Spider-Man sat on the roof of a nearby car, the mouth around his mask torn open for easier consumption. His rotting face donned a grim expression. "Is anybody else disturbed by how easy this all is?"

"Not really. Alpha Flight are... were... a bunch of pussies if you ask me." Bruce Banner sat on the ground and rubbed his satisfied belly. He was naked and the weather was freezing, though it didn't seem to matter now that he was dead. All he could feel was hunger.

Thor chuckled as he cracked open Northstar's skull to feed on his brain. "Yay, all Canadians art pussies! Ha ha!"

"That's not what I meant," Spidey sighed. "I mean, we're attacking innocent people! Not just that, but we're doing things to them which, not weeks ago, we would have been horrified by! I know what the hunger is like, but, how can we all have come to terms with that so quickly?"

"Can it, Parker, we've heard it before." Iron Man landed before them, his red and gold suit of armour covered in dried blood, now turning black. He lifted his visor to reveal his true nature underneath: a once great man now undead. "I've just heard the news. The Russians have launched nuclear weapons on Washington, Baltimore and Los Angeles in an attempt to get to us."

"They're taking pot shots," Colonel America remarked. "They might have hit us if they fired eight hours ago."

"They did hit us, Colonel," Iron Man continued seriously. "The strike managed to take out the Power Pack, the Slingers and those Pride kids from LA. If we don't respond quickly then we could be next."

Luke Cage scoffed. Half of the flesh had fallen off his jaw, exposing bone. "So what? It's more meat for us. Besides, we don't even know if we can be killed."

Iron Man turned and called to Wolverine, still licking up blood. "Logan! How are those bullet wounds in your back coming along?"

"What bullet wounds?"

"Five of them! Three on the left, one on the right, one in the kidney!"

Logan twisted his head back to inspect the damage. "Well what d'ya know? These aren't going anywhere! Healing factor stopped working the second we turned!"

His point made Iron Man glared at Cage. "Now that we're zombies we no longer have an immune system. Any damage we take, we keep. Personally I like walking around with my corpse unmolested. What I wouldn't like is to one day have to adapt to unlife without a torso. Do I make myself clear?"

"Maybe we should just let them do it," Spider-Man moped.

The group looked blankly, silently to the wall-crawler. Maybe his words had an impact, but most likely they didn't. Iron Man pointed to him. "Somebody shut him up."

"Woah. Hey, I didn't mean to..."

Sneaking up from behind Wolverine placed his fist to Spidey's throat. A split second later his adamantium claws shot out, puncturing necrotic flesh. Another brief movement tore a large chunk from his throat, giving air somewhere else to vent.

"Thanks, Logan," Spidey chided at a much lower volume. "You have any idea how hard this is going to make it to swallow?"

"Back to business," said Iron Man. "This isn't like the movies. The world isn't going to stand by and let us overrun the planet city by city. They're going to strike back, most likely with the hardest weapons they can from as far away as they can. We need to make the first strike."

Giant-Man raised a curious eyebrow. "If we leave now we'll just be giving whoever's left a chance to regroup. We took them by surprise before. Next time they know who they'll be fighting."

"Settle down, Yellowjacket," said Wolverine stepping up to the circle. "The way I see it they ain't got much left to regroup. So a few survivors get together, make do in the name of survival... we've destroyed most of their resources. This just makes 'em ripe for the picking when we return."

Reluctantly, he agreed. "So what's the plan?"

"Our greatest threats lie in Europe and Russia. I've taken the liberty of assembling a two-pronged strike, eliminating both threats simultaneously. While we attack Europe the X-Men, Thunderbolts and Young Avengers strike Russia. The worst they'll have to worry about is the Titanium Man and Crimson Dynamo."

"What about the Fantastic Four?" called the Wasp from the back. "Or the New Warriors?"

Iron Man sighed heavily. "The New Warriors along with the Great Lakes Avengers have opted to be... uncooperative. Something about eating Squirrel Girl, I don't know. As for Reed and his crew, they seem to have gone MIA. This is all we have to work with."

"Then let's do it!" Hawkeye cheered. "I bet Germans taste like sausages and the English taste like blood pudding!"

"And the Turkish taste like thanksgiving dinner," Spider-Man groaned through the hole in his throat.

"That little speech impediment Wolverine gave you really screws up your delivery, huh."

"Tell me about it."

The zombies departed heading for the area the Avengers Quinjet was landed less than a mile away. After refueling it would only be hours before they reached the other continents and began their tirade of widespread panic anew.

Minutes later something stirred amongst the dead. A young white-haired woman clad in a blue and white Alpha Flight uniform stumbled about. A large meaty bite had been taken from her arm and her head rolled about independently of her body as if it had been broken. Looking about she saw the bodies of her teammates and she began to weep. A moment later she spotted the headless body of her brother, Northstar and she held it, wailing to the heavens.

What had happened, she wondered. The last she remembered was the Avengers: something had happened to them and then they were fighting and killing each other. Though that didn't matter. For some reason at that moment she was overwhelmingly hungry...

Headquarters of the Hellsing Organisation
London, England

"You're going to what?"

Nick Fury slammed his fists on the desk. He'd spent the better part of the last few days talking to world leaders and devising plans knowing that every moment meant another life lost. Now he'd been delivered devastating news that would turn his campaign into a guaranteed suicide run.

Sir Integra Wingates Hellsing seemed unphased by this. Of course not. She was expecting for him to overreact. Such a man could not understand her position. "You will keep in mind, Colonel Fury, that the Hellsing Organisation is formed from the order of Protestant Knights. We are a religious organisation devoted to combating the supernatural and as such must adhere to some very strict laws."

"You are in charge of this war's most effective resource and refuse to do anything while the extinction of the human race unfolds right before your feet! Every second you wait holds you accountable for how many more dead!"

"If the battlefield were still the United States I would have immediately sent my top agent to the task," she informed him, her voice slightly raised. "However, since the enemy is crossing Europe there are borders and treaties to consider, even in times as desperate as these."

"And what would those be?" Fury hissed, still not understanding the significance of her words.

"Many of those nations fall under the jurisdiction of the Roman Catholic Church. The Hellsing Organisation is forbidden to cross into their territory lest we erupt into yet another crusade. The world should consider itself fortunate for every day we manage to maintain the peace."

The Colonel's grim face contorted further with frustration. "So you're going to sit back and let this all happen in the name of some petty rivalry over whose God has the biggest balls. Am I getting this right?"

Sir Hellsing fumed at such blasphemy and could no longer contain herself. "The people of those nations and their leaders damned themselves by falling victim to pagan Vatican ritual and Papalian rhetoric! I have no doubt that each and every one of them marched into the gates of Hell long ago and now curse themselves for spitting upon salvation when it was offered to them! Their choice has been made and so has mine!"

The long pause between the two directors lingered painfully. Finally Fury was the first to speak. "So that's really what you believe, is it?"

"Yes, it is," she said. "What do you believe in, Colonel Fury?"

Nick took a cigar from his pocket and bit off the end. Placing the other to his mouth he lit it. He turned to leave, giving Sir Integra a last pitying glare. "I believe in survival."

Seras Victoria stood out amongst the ranks of the Hellsing Organisation. Short, blonde, petite, she didn't quite seem to fit the bill when it came to what was expected of your average soldier in a covert holy war. Some of the blokes even reckoned that she was only recruited for her ample chest, that as devout as someone such as director Hellsing seemed she might have been batting for the other team.

Those who knew her however knew different. Her ability completely defied her appearance. In battle she was faster, more alert and then times the asset of any single soldier. Though she was once an ordinary police officer she was made Nosferatu and then served under Alucard as another 'freak-hunting freak'.

Truth be told it was a difficult unlife. She didn't like the sight of blood, which made feeding for her all the more difficult. Yet the hunger began to take her. Sooner or later she would succumb to it and become a proper nightstalker. Such was the way of things.

Seras strolled across the yard. The moon was full and the men were on high alert. Her radio was buckled to her jacket: she had to be ready for the attack when it came. She was told time and time again the role she was to play would be crucial in the final outcome.

There were two men leaning on the yard wall: men in costumes, both dark blue. One was wearing a stylised skull mask while the other had a symbol of a target on his forehead. They were both Americans, mercenaries, contract killers, working for the SHIELD director, Nick Fury. Having met him once before Seras got the feeling that he wouldn't have hired these men under any other circumstances.

Bullseye and Taskmaster glanced over. She quickly averted her gaze and promptly made her way to the building.

The hallway descended deep underground. The walls, floors and ceiling were made of cold, black brick. She followed them, for at the end preceding her master's coffin was her own chambers where she could feed, maybe rest, until the conflict began. Even an unholy creature such as herself prayed: prayed that they wouldn't come, or at least to come at night when her Master could see to them.

The truth was she had less faith in God than she did in Alucard. Never before had she met such a powerful force and witnessed it in action firsthand for herself. She wondered if there were others out there to match his power, but she doubted it. After all he was the one true master of the walking undead.

"So, which way's the bathroom around here?" Seras jumped at the sound of the voice behind her. She turned to face a man covered in head to toe in red and black armed with guns, knives, swords, grenades: everything you'd need to start a one man war. He watched her with lustful eyes. "So, ever done it in the bottom of a suitcase?"

"E-excuse me?"

"Wait, you're that vampire chick, right?" From under the mask he smiled. She could barely tell. "So, ever done it in the bottom of a coffin?"

"No, I-!"

"Let me guess. You're a virgin," he continued coyly. "Must be a tough call. Get some dicking and die or live forever a virgin. It's a way of life, I know. Me, I'd shoot myself! Then again that probably doesn't do much... for either of us."

"I don't know. It'd do a lot for me right now." Seras frowned. "Who are you, anyway?"

"The name's Deadpool, 'the Merc with the Mouth'," he explained. "Sorry I had to embarrass you like that, but I thought I'd try and give the readers a bit of slash action. They seem to freakin' love that stuff!"

"That's only for same sex characters."

"Seriously?"

"I don't know," she said writhing under Deadpool's arms as he attempted to pin her to the wall. "What are you even talking about?"

"Police girl." They were both halted by Alucard's deep voice. It contained power and authority. Neither had heard him exit his chamber yet there he was: standing in his long, red overcoat and hat with his black hair draping and curling from the side.

"Er, how you doing, red?" Deadpool asked, a little uncertain as to what to say.

Alucard simply ignored him and began to walk. "I'm quite taken by the thought of an evening stroll. I wish to sample the odor of the oncoming carnage."

"Yes, master." Seras darted after him paying little attention to the mercenary left behind her.

Deadpool shrugged. "Probably not my type. Probably a cold-hearted lover. I mean, after all, she is already dead."

Guaranda, Ecuador

The people prayed at the sight of evil before them. They prayed that the Lord would come down from Heaven personally and take these foul abominations away. They thanked him for sending an avenger and prayed further for the souls of all who'd been lost. The entire city was assembled outside and in. Never before had there been such a display of faith, even from a great number of disbelievers.

"Keep your noise down! Your prayers are worthless!" Patriot cried out. "You're all nothing more than food to us!"

"Ye'll be keeping yer mouth shut if ye be wantin' any chance'a salvation," said a large Scotsman with a heavy boot to the Young Avenger's forehead. "Be thankful I be lettin' ye have anything at ull!"

"I can hardly understand a word he's saying," declared Songbird.

"I'm... just... so... hungry," Wiccan whined.

Alexander Anderson sighed. There was just no reasoning with them. Even without stomachs they couldn't think with their brains. He marched up and down with each of the heads of the undead X-Men, Thunderbolts and Young Avengers lined up before him. Despite all logic they lived on, but at least they could cause no harm.

Cyclops rattled his jaw in an attempt to move off of the podium he'd been placed. His eyes had been scooped clean out of his head leaving him less of a threat than ever. "Point me to him, Jean. I'm going to bite his ankles off!"

"He's too far away, Scott. Wait until he's closer, then we can both feast on him."

Paladin Anderson raised his arms to silence the crowd. He was a very tall man: a feature which seemed to defy his humility which in turn defied his warrior nature. He wore glasses and had short, blond hair giving him the appearance of a learned man also. He'd have to be to have such a high rank within the church.

"Brothars 'n sistars," he proclaimed. "Damn not the heroes they once wure, but yay, damn the fowul demon creatures that hath overcoom them! May their sins be forgiven and they themselves be damned if they no' be baptised in the holy spirut!"

"What the hell is he talking about?" Moonstone tried to choke out without the aid of her larynx.

"Yeblan! Zjelob!" Colossus cursed as the blade swung down. His head was cut clean in two and his divided brain slipped out of his halved skull. Finally he was dead... and he was only the first in the line.

"Ye're next, ye abomination," he said down to the zombified Hulkling with hate-filled eyes. Whenever the dead stared back to Alexander Anderson they stared in fear. It was a power the warrior paladin could get drunk on.

TO BE CONTINUED...