"Fang!" Max yelled looking over to him.

"Max!" The two were about to reunite, but a long arm barred Fang from passing.

"Stay back. The heathen has done something with her." Anderson growled.

Alucard placed his gloved hand on his new fledgling. Anderson grimaced and unsheathed his bayonets. The vampire whispered something in Max's ear and drew the twin hand cannons from his coat.

"Looks like my hunt has come to an end."

"Aye. That it has."

"I want to teach my new draculina about how to act as a real nosferatu."

The only thing that stopped Anderson from striking that moment was Fang's hand. It gripped his shoulder tightly, and the priest looked upon a desperate face. One that was worried for that girl.

"Father, who the hell is this guy? What did he do to Max?"

Anderson dropped his blades. And in a tone of defeat told him.

"I was too late. I should have guessed he would come for you as well." He grabbed the hands of the two children, prepared to deliver the bitter truth.

"I told you I fight monsters. He is the most despicable and unholy of them. The no-life king. A vampire employed by the English government to hunt any and all that may be threat to the crown," he could tell the two children were thinking his words insane, but soon they would have proof, "he has...changed your friend into a draculina. She is no longer alive, and is part of the undead."

Fang's teeth clamped tight, "don't feed me this crap! I see max right there, alive and well! And you claim she is some kind of zombie!"

The priest shook his head solemnly. He would have to prove it.
Alucard was growing impatient. He considered taking a shot to get his nemeses' attention, but found the proximity of the kids problematic. An explosion might harm them as well.
Flakes of snow dashed the priest in white. His coat fluttered as a chilled wind passed through the battlefield.
Anderson crossed his blades, uttering a prayer upon this breeze. All the observers held their breath as the time froze in between them. The holy blade came down through the air, cleanly splitting a snowflake. The hammer on the Jackal ascended, the muzzle flared like a dragon. The barrel coughed the bullet into the air, throwing it past the paladin's head. Behind him a scraggly tree exploded into bark and wood shards.
Anderson darted forward, lunging to the side as the two pistols unloaded the payload of thirteen millimeter rounds into the ground he had been standing. Fang pulled Nudge down so they wouldn't be caught by stray shots, but they still were watching the incredible battle unfold. Max was much the same, she had helped Ari up and pulled angel to safety. But rushed back to watch her master's brawl. It mesmerized her and brought a slight grin to her face. She wanted to see her master tear him apart.

Watch carefully. This is what it means to be one of the night.

Max giggled. The holy man would soon be holy meat.

Anderson rolled to dodge another barrage of thirteen millimeter rounds, this unfortunately left him open to shots from Alucard's Jackal. He guarded with his blade just as mercury tip closed in for the kill. The explosion shattered the knife, but saved Anderson from losing a good portion of his skull.
Alucard dropped a couple more rounds from the Jackal before hearing the slide go back. His hand darted to the spare clip.

"I think not!" Anderson yelled, pulling another knife from his jacket and stabbing forward with it.

The blade bit into the immortal's hand and pinned it to his chest. The clip slipped and fell into the snow.
However in this position, the casaul was now pressed against the priest's gut. It went off, splitting through his guts and detonating on the other side, destroying almost all his vital organs.

"Father!" Nudge yelled standing up.

The two kids ran to help their savior.
"BWAHAHAHA!"
They stopped dead, mouths agape. The priest's back had already begun repairing itself. Anderson quieted as he waited for his left lung to regenerate.

"Seems you've got an upgrade." Alucard stated.

The two were staring each other dead in the eye. A man of god and a man of blood. The fight was just getting interesting.
Three bayonets were spat from Anderson's sleaves. He felt the casaul go off again, but paid it little notice. His poised these blades to strike, like the guillotines of old