PART TWO
The Headquarters of the Hellsing Organisation
London, England
"What the hell are you doing here?"
Bullseye smiled down the barrel of the gun pointed at his face. To say the least he was pleased that someone else of interest managed to get out of the country alive. "It's good to see you too, Frank."
"What about me, huh? You going to point a gun at my head?" asked Deadpool, probably seeking attention.
"Shut up." Frank Castle was by no means a patient man, nor a tolerant one. He was a born soldier: it was what he did best. In his mind the war started again when his family were brutally murdered at the hands of gangsters. Since then he's been the Punisher and now he was staring through his sights at a wanted multiple murderer. "What are you doing here?"
"Working for me," said Nick Fury from the doorway. He looked disapprovingly with his one good eye on Castle and held a cigar in his toothy scowl. "Put down the gun, Frank. It's not polite to shoot your troops."
The Punisher reluctantly did as he was told. "I was hoping that wasn't the case, Fury. I was hoping we were going to do this properly, with soldiers, not assassins."
"Assassins are better than soldiers," giggled Deadpool. "Assassins do it from behind."
"Shut up!" came Fury and Castle's collective reply.
The Colonel ducked his head heavily. For the last twelve hours he'd been stuck on his ass pulling together whatever forces he could from out of thin air. Frank Castle was the last of them. "They're all we've got, Frank. We're all there are to stop a zombie army capable of destroying the world. Right now good and evil don't nearly weigh up to whatever strength we can gather."
"He's a murderer," Castle said, still not drawing his gaze from Bullseye's smug, indifferent grin.
"So are you," Fury added.
"That's different."
"He saved lives." Castle looked to Fury curiously. "After fighting his way out of Hell's Kitchen and taking out Daredevil in the process Bullseye here managed to make his way to New Jersey where he lead twenty people to a private airstrip. He then managed to successfully get them all the way to Guam."
Castle turned back to Bullseye in disbelief. "I don't buy it."
"The guy was a pilot," he explained casually. "I said I'd kill his family if he didn't fly but he refused. We ended up bringing them along... and seventeen of their friends. After that I was recruited by old one-eye over here."
Finally Castle relented. He trusted Fury and knew he wouldn't have done this under any other circumstances. After all was said and done and mankind was saved from extinction Bullseye would be a dead man: one way or the other.
"Now that's over with I'd like to introduce you to the rest of your team," Fury continued. Into the room stepped two mutants: one a large man with grey hair and a glowing eye, the other a petite raven-haired woman with pale skin and black patches around her eyes. Both carried enough enough firepower to arm a small alien armada.
"Son of a gun," Deadpool gasped with faux excitement. "You should leave the missus alone, Cable. I bet it's getting hard to explain the black eyes. By the way, where's the rest of X-Force?"
Domino lunged forward to take a shot at the merc with a mouth but Cable held her back. He just smirked and stared into his empty eyes. "Wade Wilson. I heard you were here. How's the rest of the family?"
"Peachy," he muttered. "So what does your little history cubey thing say about us surviving this thing? How do we win?"
Cable's expression turned grimmer than usual. "It doesn't. This was never supposed to happen. Because of that we lost X-Force. Domino and I were the only survivors."
"So much for a strategic advantage," Deadpool mumbled under his breath.
"Enough!" All fell silent and sat patiently for Fury to speak. "Here's the deal. Earth's mightiest heroes are dead and that may very well spell extinction for all life on the planet. Something has reanimated their corpses and they in turn now hunger for living human flesh. We are all that's left to stop them. SHIELD has granted us access wherever we need to go but haven't promised us any back-up. Gentlemen, Domino... we're it."
Taskmaster raised his hand from his silent, unnoticed corner. "So what's the plan?"
"We take them apart," Fury explained. "We isolate them one by one and destroy the heads as quickly as we can. Too much time and it will all have been for nothing. It's no easy task but it needs to be done and now."
"As in, this very second?" Deadpool asked.
Fury nodded. It was the start of what was going to be a very long day.
Sir Integra watched from on high as the chopper blades turned. Upon the recommendation of the Prime Minister SHIELD had been stationed in her courtyard since the first attack. Both he and Fury should have known better: she was for the time being forbidden to act. Despite the urgings of the round table she had a duty to keep, first to her God and then to her country: of this there was no question. If it cost the lives of countless heathens then so bit it: she would not be compromised.
Through her office window she watched as Colonel Fury ushered his mercenary squad into the helicopter. He looked up to her with his one good eye then shook his head in disappointment. Integra scoffed. He disappointment was misplaced. When once he turned to costumed heroes he now expected for Hellsing to fill the gap. Not bloody likely, she thought.
Walter C. Dornez, the Hellsing family butler and a man of high dignity, stood humbly at her door. "Sir Integra, forgive the interruption."
"Not at all, Walter," she said with a polite smile.
He continued inside and briefly caught sight of the SHIELD helicopter flying into the distance. "Am I to take it that our guests have parted company?"
"They have indeed."
There was a very subtle hint of distress on her voice which only very few would be able to detect. Having served the family since before her birth Walter was one of them. "Is everything alright, sir?"
Integra inhaled and released. It was time for another cigarette. "Simply mourning the death of a good man. A highly misguided man, but a good man all the same. What do you have for me, Walter?"
"Sir Alistair Lethbridge-Stewart called," he informed her. "There is to be an emergency meeting of the round table immediately in regards to the oncoming... erm... peril."
"Tell them that the Hellsing Organisation have everything well in hand. After all, this is what we were made for."
Walter laughed agreeably. "Indeed, sir, but I am afraid that the faith your compatriots have placed in you does not extend quite that far. Perhaps it would be in your interest to set their minds at ease."
"Of course." At once Integra grabbed her coat and proceeded down the hall. She would have to explain to the old men how she planned to stop a war when in truth she was anxious for the war to begin...
The Atlantic Ocean
Off the coast of Spain
"Remind me again, why Spain?" Wolverine grunted.
Colonel America gripped the Quinjet's controls shakily. The hunger was beginning to creep up on him, as it was them all. He had to fight to keep rational. "We need to draw their forces out," he explained. "We feed on the little fish and then go after the bigger ones with clear heads. If we attacked now they'd pick us off like rabid dogs."
"Hulk not care about plan! Hulk want food!" Banner bellowed. No longer fueled by rage the zombies watched as the undead scientist slowly began to change.
Iron Man quickly jerked around from his console. "Somebody keep him together! We can't afford a transformation right now!"
Reaching into his neck Spider-Man drew a piece of human meat that had become caught on the way down. He offered it to Banner and spoke gently. "Nibble on this. It was all I could find."
Banner took it and swallowed it down quickly. For the moment the Hulk had subsided within him.
Wolverine snorted and grinned a crooked smile with rotten teeth. "You keep feeding him he'll just keep comin' back. Next time he might even tear your stomach open to get it."
Spider-Man looked up to him in shock. "Damn it, Logan! Don't give him any ideas!"
Bruce shot Spidey a deadly smile. Even with their new undead ability he knew he didn't stand a snowball's chance against the Hulk, not in the long run. He'd hate to think what would happen if Bruce took up the offer.
"All of you, quiet!" Iron Man snapped. He flipped his visor closed and pointed to Hawkeye and Thor. "You two are with me. We'll be leading the attack."
"No way," protested Luke Cage. "You don't get first dibs. Those meatbag suckers are ours to eat, too!"
Iron Man stared into Cage's face as he pressed him into the wall. "Listen to me, 'Power Man'. Those 'meatbag suckers' below have ground to air missiles and we need the Quinjet intact if we're going to see this mission through. Thor and I can both fly while Hawkeye has the most effective range. This is how we do it in the Avengers, unless you have a better plan."
"No, I don't."
"Clint, do you have your exploding arrows?" Iron Man didn't for a moment remove his glare from the other zombie.
Hawkeye smiled. "Never leave him without 'em."
"Good." The rear hatch opened letting in a violent gust of air. Iron Man reached around Hawkeye, holding him securely. "Avengers assemble, and move in for the kill!"
The bulkheads fell in a matter of minutes. Iron Man and Thor effortlessly evaded the missile swarm while Hawkeye took out the launchers and heavy artillery on the ground with the greatest of ease. They were heroes: they were born for battle. Then the feeding frenzy began.
Though they were virtually blanketed by heavy fire none of them seemed at all affected. They tore through the cavalry making sure that no man was left untouched. It wouldn't be enough to finish the victims off one at a time, they had to consume them en mass. Desperate soldiers lay bleeding, doomed, choking out as their body failed. It was such a waste of a life, even if their destiny was to be eaten it was distasteful to leave them only half-finished.
Once the Quinjet had landed safely the violence erupted anew with the zombies projecting their bodies as birds of prey swooping into the grass for their dinner. Nature was violent and cruel but these creatures were by no means natural: they had been reduced to things less than human, lower than cold, hungry cavemen. All they knew was an insatiable need and never again could they know anything more.
Father Maxwell smiled from his rooftop vigil, his uneven eyes blazing as he smiled at the prospect of what was yet to come.
"He has smited the United States for it's godless ways," he began. "A 'nation under God' that would separate him from government, from schools, from their daily lives: a nation based on blasphemy and lies about it's faith, that would worship mortal men in place of the Almighty! They are a nation that would discard Mother Mary as no more than the whore of Babylon..."
"And in true American fashion they would damn the world with them," said Heinkel, a young short-haired German girl dressed as a priest, though you could hardly tell her true sex to look at her.
Yumiko, a Japanese nun, cried as she watched. "We should pray for them. God will have mercy on their souls. Whatever has overcome them... they are not the men they were, only the demons that have taken them."
"Snap out of it!" Heinkel barked. "Go back inside, Yumiko! We need for Yumie to come out!"
"Patience, Heinkel," Father Maxwell urged him. "Yumie will come out when the time is right. For now we will sit back as we have been asked to do and await our opportunity to cleanse the Earth of these devils."
The zombies had made short work of the Spanish army: their wall of force quickly became a wall of bones trickling ponds of blood. It was only a light snack but the night was still young. There was bound to be a lot more yet to come.
"Still hungry," groaned the Hulk.
"Me too," Hawkeye complained. "Where do you suppose they herded all of the survivors to?"
Wolverine sniffed the air. His healing factor was out but he still had his animal senses. "There's something else comin'. I can smell 'em. We got more food coming right for us."
Iron Man rocketed upwards and scanned the area for heat signatures, radio frequencies, anything to indicate a mobilised group approaching. "I'm not picking up anything. There's nobody out there, not for miles."
"Then we keep moving until we catch up," Colonel America ordered.
Wolverine stood his ground and unsheathed his adamantium claws. "I'm tellin' ya, there's someone else out here with us. A whole lot of 'em!"
"And I'm telling you that they're not there!" Iron Man growled.
"Machines can be easily fooled, 'Iron Man'," came a voice echoing from the darkness. It was all around them, projected electronically through hundreds of hidden speakers. "You think you are better than dogs. Ha! I always knew the day would come when you would march against God's holy army, but like the others you will fall. All false idols are destined to one day fall!"
"Great, another religious nutjob," Spider-Man croaked.
"Art thou a mad cultist? What manner of trickery doest thou attempt?" Thor bellowed.
"This is no trick," the voice continued. Father Maxwell became illuminated on the podium above them and stared down with a smug grin. "I am a representative of the Lord Almighty here on Earth. We were created in holy God's image and as such need not cower and hide in the darkness like wild beasts. With the power of faith on our side we have nothing to fear... not even you."
The zombies hissed hungrily, their eyes clouded with bloodlust. Colonel America turned away if just to laugh for a brief moment. "I get it. You don't fear death. So what? You're going to offer yourself to us?"
"Suicidal tendencies line only the path to Hell. One day I am going to Heaven. I have paid my way in faith, blood and deed," Father Maxwell informed them simply. "No, I do not plan to die today. Instead I plan only to kill you all."
"You and what army?" Colonel America called through the collective laughter of their zombie troupe.
With a series of heavy clicks the floodlights activate in sequence. Scattered across the rooftops were warriors numbered in the thousands garbed from head to toe in white cloth and decorated in symbols paying homage to their God. Each held in their right hand a sword and a shield in the left. Each also carried large artillery weapons, spears, grenades and other weapons with which men would drive back demons with in ancient times.
"Cultists indeed," remarked Maxwell maliciously. "Prepare your march back to Hell, demons, and when you see Lucifer tell him that it was Chapter XIII, Iscariot who sent you!"
Meeting of the Knights of the Round Table
An undisclosed location
"Sir Hellsing, do you honestly expect for us to believe that this situation doesn't warrant our concern?"
Integra leaned back in her chair and patiently smoked her cigarette. It was the only thing that allowed for her to stomach the same old speeches fed to her over and over again by these old men. It didn't matter to her they were assigned by the Queen to protect their sovereign nation. Each one of them seemed to cling onto old ideas of the Empire, that there were no monsters, merely men who acted monstrously. It was for that reason that none of them put any stock in the Hellsing Organisation.
"We've seen this freak of yours and while he can effectively take down these ghouls you constantly seem to encounter I doubt that he or anyone else in your little cabal have ever faced anything of this magnitude," another continued.
"Frankly, gentlemen, neither have you," she quipped back prudently. "The Hellsing Organisation is exclusively devoted to threats of a supernatural nature, so we alone are the most qualified to stop these Avenger zombies. It would be wise of you to stay out of our way."
"I hardly think so," said Sir Lethbridge-Stewart calmly. "I believe it would be wise of you, Sir Hellsing, not to assume so quickly that any of us are ill-equipped to deal with the paranormal."
"I wouldn't dare," she explained. "However these creatures are far more than mere threats to national security. They are plague carriers spreading a sickness that originated from the pits of Hell itself."
"Regardless of the fact these monsters were the Avengers," Sir Tristan continued on behalf of the table. "As such we believe that our best hope in disposing of them would best be placed in our own superhero team, Excalibur, instead of the hands of two freaks and the small militia that make up your 'organisation'."
"Excalibur," she seethed. "Gentleman, what should happen if your precious Captain Britain and his subordinates too become infected? You're only providing them with further soldiers."
"Captain Britain and Excalibur are professionals," he informed her. "I'm afraid I've already approached both the Queen and the Prime Minister on the matter and we're in agreement, Integra. Hellsing will be our backup."
Integra wanted to scream. She wanted to leap across the table and take a sword to the bastard's throat, but she contained herself: it wouldn't be becoming of a proper English lady. He'd be dead soon enough, she told herself. The Queen and the Prime Minister had practically signed all of their death warrants.
"I pray that you all make it to Heaven, gentlemen," she said as she left. "You'll be there very soon."
The Spanish Coast
Father Maxwell watched with sycophantic delight. He watched as the Vatican army pressed forward in a savage collective, an unbreakable wall enforced with divine might. Those at the front were merely a barrier: their lives were forfeit and they knew it, though they each died gladly in service to their cause.
Colonel America, Spider-Man, Wolverine, the ground-based monsters were easily pinned down. They tried to lunge forward, to leap out of their reach but the army was assembled too tightly. Perhaps if they were still alive and rigamortis had not been slowly setting in they have been able to move faster but the blessed spears of the Holy Knights held them impaled on their seraded tips. In their desperation all they could do was pull themselves along the length of the staffs where they were met with furious swords.
Iron Man and Thor were more difficult. Arrows and bullets flew up to them, many containing explosive heads. The freaks burned, their own flesh becoming damaged beyond repair. They had to swoop down to feed, slaves to their own hunger and that was where the Knights had them. They'd come down and they were taken, the strength of a hundred men each boxing them in and leaving them to fight for their lives.
Giant Man wailed, struggling as he fought the ropes flying over him. One movement and a dozen men would fly into the air aimlessly. Some flew into his mouth as he caught them like popcorn. Eventually they pulled him down, breaking the bones in his rotten legs with explosives.
"Fight all you will, monsters," the Father laughed. "You are but a few, we number in the thousands!"
Heinkel and his partner stood at his side acting as personal guards. Yumiko, humble as she was before, had torn away her habit and unleashed her other personality, Yumie, a deadly assassin with a sharp katanna. Slowly they backed away with Father Maxwell in tow, still eying the carnage with much enthusiasm.
In the mad priest's eyes there was no way they could lose: he would cling to that believe until his very last breath. Heinkel however was becoming a little concerned. "Father, I think we should get out of here..."
"What are you talking about, Heinkel?" Yumie spat. "My sword hasn't tasted blood yet! We cannot possibly leave!"
Maxwell watched the battle, still lost in his own dillusion. "Listen to your friend, my child. We are God's representatives. We may lose number, but we are invincible! We shall never be defeated!"
Where Father Maxwell saw only God's soldiers making the push Heinkel saw the snapping of spears and ropes where the zombies summoned their superhuman strength to fight themselves free. She'd heard tales of the Avengers: many times they'd defeated foes larger than most people could comprehend. Never against the odds had they been defeated.
"Then I'm sorry, Father. I've lost the faith." Heinkel grabbed at Maxwell's arm to pull him to safely only to be slapped down to the ground in defiance.
"How dare you defy my... God's will?" Maxwell dragged her up by the collar to smack her down again. "If you've lost your way then you can become food for the monsters!"
He picked up Heinkel again and was met with the tip of Yumie's katanna and a deep scowl. "Release him, Father. Please."
"You too, Yumie?" Maxwell chuckled to himself. He'd surrounded himself with heathens. Somehow he'd always known that Crossfire didn't share the faith. "Then you too are the food for the damned. You see, God will not let you harm me."
"Go fu-"
Yumie never had the chance to finish. Three long claws of adamantium entered between her ribs and pierced her lungs, then lifting her up so Wolverine could satisfy his hunger. He pulled on her long, black hair and sunk his blackened teeth into her neck as a torrent of blood washed over his face.
"Yumie!" Heinkel reached for her guns and charged to the zombie. Her partner was dying, she would avenge her. Her teaching taught her that revenge was a deadly sin, but nowhere in the Bible did it say that one should love and forgive the Devil or his agents. She charged, shots firing, unloading two bullets per step, but was stopped in her tracks when a hail of arrows pierced her, one through her neck. Suddenly it was very hard to breath.
Before she blacked out she saw the visage of Hawkeye standing above with his bow in hand, smiling with satisfaction. He leaned in closer. "Guess I'd better dig in while it's warm."
Father Maxwell backed away. He tripped and was crawling like a scared child. They seemed to revel in his fear as if it were an entree. For the first time in his life he questioned his faith. Had God lied to him? Why would he lie to him? No, it just wasn't possible. They were supposed to be invincible!
"I'll bet you're eating those words now, Father," Colonel America taunted on his approach. "I hear humble pie goes great with human flesh..."
He closed his eyes. The next thing he'd see would be the gates of Heaven with Jesus and Mary welcoming him home. He crawled into a ball and waited for the feast to begin. The truth was that he did not fear death, he just couldn't comprehend something having destroyed his faith made manifest.
Suddenly there was a sound, like paper beating on the wind followed by metal on soft flesh. Father Maxwell opened his eyes to see the zombies halted in their tracks and sent a step backward by countless knives flying into them, each formed of the blessed silver of melted crosses and attached to pages of holy parchment.. Maxwell smiled: he recognised those blades.
"Thank God," he cried. "Thank God!"
From on high came a tall, dark stranger: a priest in a long trenchcoat and the glint of God's hatred in his eye. For only a moment he turned back to see Father Maxwell cowering like a child. "God innae here, Father. No' t'day. Now g'won! Git!"
He didn't waste a moment. At Anderson's urging Father Maxwell scraped himself to his feet and ran towards a nearby helicopter. The zombies tried to follow but once more they were stopped by a hail of blades embedding themselves in the ground at their feet.
"Ah dinnae think ye'll be goin' any further," Anderson grinned happily. He bent forward, anxious for one of them, any of them, to make the first strike.
"And who the hell are you, chump?" Luke Cage growled.
"The last in a long line of penguins," Spider-Man choked laughing from the holes in his neck. "I say we skin him, eat him and use the rest as a tuxedo."
"There be no point in me introducin' mahsel'," Anderson continued. "I'm a holy weapon of God, an' ah haven' yet been defeated by any freaks."
The silence seemed to linger forever as they sized each other up. So far this one man alone seemed more effective than the entire Vatican army. Finally the Colonel spoke.
"We don't care what you are," he said boldly. Black saliva dripped from the rotted holes in his cheeks. "We're still hungry!"
TO BE CONTINUED...