Seras slammed another cartridge into the large rifle. She had used three clips already. These guys may have been drunk and disoriented, but there was a lot of them.
A hail of bullets pounded the ground next to her. Whoever was firing that gun was seeing double. She followed the stream of bullets up to a fourth-story window, where a group of four soldiers were trying to figure out why the bullets weren't hitting her. Pointing, and scratching their heads.
The rifle made a loud, buckling noise as the cartridge dropped from its place, and a single, incindenary round was loaded in. Seras took aim at the squabbling group of gunners, and squeezed the trigger.
BOOM!
The window was enveloped in flame and smoke. The gunners' arguing was cut short as the shell painted the walls with them.
She replaced the clip, and spun around to check on Wolf. As soon as she turned, she was met with the sight of her partner being viciously attacked from behind. She gave a surprised cry, and watched in awe as the scene erupted into blood, fur, and fangs.
Wolf was about to knock down the wall that offensively blocked his way inside, when an unimaginable pain rushed through his back, as he felt the back of his shirt and coat ripped apart, and his skin split open releasing four identical streams of blood. He let out a scream of pain. And for an ancient vampire, that was a very bad sign.
"RAAAGH!" He cried out. As he did so, his chest exploded in another pain from the cuts, which had pierced his lungs. Rendering him with no ability to speak or shout so.
He turned, ignoring the pain, and looked on what could have done such damage. What stood in front of him was a Werewolf. An exact replica of the one he had fought only a few months ago. Only, his eyes were a light shade of gray.
"Hans?" He muttered cautiously.
That name seemed to be the trigger word for this Werewolf. He let out a ferocious roar, and seized Wolf by the neck. "MURDERER!" he roared, and tossed the Vampire against the wall. As soon as his lungs began slowly healing themselves, Wolf spoke.
"Who the Hell Are you?!"
The gargantuan creature spoke in a deep, booming voice. "I am Kohl Günsche! You murdered my Father! Prepare for real death, Vampire!"
He landed a furious kick into Wolf's chest, cracking all but the top two ribs in his body. The broken bone fragments cut through his flesh, and pushed gallons of sustenance from his veins onto the concrete. Kohl planted his claws through Wolf's neck before he could even retaliate.
Wolf felt his blood pouring from his torso and neck as he lay on the cold, hard ground, unable to move. Kohl was walking away, and The Vampire's thoughts were in disarray.
Damn! That guy is stronger than Hans was, and he's his son. Unbelievable. That family must be older than I am! Wait. Does he think I'm dead? He's just walking away!
He tried to get up, but found that the silver-like essence of the Werewolf claws was still coursing through his veins, rendering him defenseless. His efforts proved worthless, and he slipped into a deep sleep induced by loss of blood.
Seras's mind raced.
Shit! Shit! Shit! That thing's gonna rip the entire squad apart!
As Wolf tried to defend himself from the creature, Seras watched in horror, listening to her instincts, and keeping as far away from the beast, just as any intelligent Vampire would. Instincts were the little voices inside your head that gave you advice, not your conscience.
She searched her mind, desperately searching for a solution.
Attack...No.
Defend...Maybe.
Run...Fck No!!
Okay! Defend!
"Hellsing troops! Fall into defensive positions! Form a line! Don't let target through, but do not directly engage! Repeat! Do not engage!" Seras barked to the familiar soldiers, and they complied perfectly, creating a line of defense from the Werewolf, with heavy arms in back, and small arms in front.
Seras, in the time that she had spent at Hellsing, had learned to be the perfect emergency field commander. Her orders were precise, and strategic. Her determination, when put in the right situation, was unbreakable.
But now, as she watched her friend, and trusted ally get ripped limb from limb, her commanding spirit waned, and her blood rage grew, surrounding the real her in a surreal dream of bloodshed, and violence, While the personality of blood lust surfaced, and began to take over.
The soldiers simply held their line, as their commander went from the calm, cool woman she was, into the blood- fueled demoness her true Vampiric self was.
She dropped her rifle as her eyes went completely crimson. A familiar voice spoke to her in her mind.
Let the Vampire take control, Seras. Break the line. Directly engage the enemy. NOW.