This chapter was pretty difficult, especially since I'm getting distracted by non-Hellsing One Shots.
Never did this before, but a thanks to all my readers, also those who don't comment. I know the story is very long (and a shitload of work), but it's just what I love. I find it great that at least a few followed me to this point, and hopefully will follow me further down the road my characters will take, whatever the great writing beyond wants it to be.
Chapter 17: The Final Countdown
Hellsing mansion, basement, September 20th, 2016
"Mira?" The scent of blood had drawn him inevitably to her room. The empty bags were strewn everywhere. Shaking his head, Walter gathered them on a heap. It had been a while since the last time. Something was off, he had felt it when she returned. Something had happened in Brazil. The mercenaries were no help. The girl was still too stunned by whatever had happened, which she had of course reported to Caitlyn. From Mira's version he knew she had left out a lot of gruesome details. How sensitive of her.
He sat down on the armrest of Mira's throne. She moved slightly and her head leaned against his waist. "Sure thing," he said with a grin. "There's something coming. A battle. About time." He looked at the heap he had created. "Still, you could have left something for me, you know?"
Mira didn't answer. She growled. "General? This doesn't make sense." He wanted to ask what she meant, and didn't. Mira was sleeping. She wouldn't answer anyway.
"There you are." Caitlyn opened the door and her gaze fell on the empty blood bags. She blinked, but didn't look as shocked as Walter had expected.
"She's sleeping?"
"That's what vampires normally do when the sun is up."
"Thank you, Captain Obvious," Caitlyn murmured. She stared at the floor. "Seras left things out. And I'm grateful for that. Then again, couldn't be worse than the Major's little show, right?"
"Surely."
Mira stirred again, and growled. Caitlyn smiled like a loving mother. Walter frowned about that thought. He himself had never known his parents. He vaguely remembered his father, the former Hellsing butler, but never his mother. He had grown up as Arthur's butler, as a servant and weapon.
"She's like a sleeping child," Caitlyn said softly. "Sleep that knits up the revell'd sleave of care, the death of each day's life."
"Rather like some savage beast," Walter said dryly, pointing to the heap of empty bags.
Caitlyn smiled weakly. "That's normal after she had a banquet only two days ago?" There it was. Gallows humor. Not bad. Not bad at all. Walter suppressed a grin.
"She sensed something. I feel it too. The scent of conflict. Something big is coming."
"Scent? Is that some sixth sense vampire thing?"
"If you want to call it that." She nodded. Walter sighed. When would she understand? Mira was not calling them monsters for no reason. Caitlyn wasn't even realizing what was coming for them. The Major didn't think small. No, instead she was making sheep's eyes at this dickhead of a Catholic bishop. Caitlyn was not stupid, he knew that. She could read people like a book when it came to it. So why didn't she see through his charade? It was a mystery, but one too entertaining to solve right now. She wouldn't appreciate it anyway and what would happen if Iscariot and Hellsing turned on each other before the big battle?
Mira opened her eyes. "Lady Caitlyn?" She sat up and looked at Walter.
"Had a nice dream?", he asked. Her eyes flashed and she got up. "It's nothing."
Caitlyn knew better than to get involved with an arguing couple. "Let's go. We have a situation."
British National Security Special Guidance Division Headquarters, September 20th, 2016
Caitlyn was glad to have Walter and Seras at her side. All these men, members of the secret service, were staring at her as if she was carrying some disease. Or rather if her appearance here was the biggest surprise of their lives. Maybe it was. Either way, it couldn't be more clear she was not welcome. So she tried to look even more indifferent and self-assured. Voices shouted at each other in the room ahead. Didn't look like they had any significant results yet.
Caitlyn wished she was somewhere far away. But Sir Penwood had asked her to help and he was the last one who deserved being ignored. They were too similar to not stick together. If Enrico had similar problems at his place? He didn't seem the most popular person on his side as well, yet he had the leading position. When sorrows come, they come not single spies, But in battalions.
In this case a battalion of vampires. This psychopath called Major, the Brazil situation, now this. And yet she couldn't help wondering what her Vatican counterpart was doing. His hand must still hurt. She wondered again what had happened.
Walter certainly wasn't happy about that. Not that it was his business who she was interested in, especially if it was just a crush that would never happen anyway. She hadn't been fancying him that much after all, it seemed. That was good news, she supposed.
"Lady Hellsing. Thank God." She blinked. They were already standing in the middle of the control center. She had made a dramatic entrance and failed to say something appropriate. Well, that sucked. Penwood didn't seem to mind. He had jumped to his feet. It was interesting, seeing him in a uniform instead of a suit. The suit fit him a bit better, to be honest. He didn't look that misplaced in it.
"Sir Penwood," she said, taking his hand, and giving him a smile. He looked stressed. Never a good sign. Stressed enough to ignore Walter. Very bad.
"Admiral!", a tall brown-haired man barked. His name tag called him McDaniels. "Don't tell me you seek help from that lot!"
Another one, a blond guy named – Caitlyn couldn't suppress a smile – Spoiler, joined in. "This is a matter of national security!", he exclaimed in hurt dignity. "Would you permit the involvement of a suspicious group like them?!"
"Now, no name calling please," said Caitlyn as friendly as she could. That hurt, but she couldn't blame them. Hellsing was a bit of a shady thing. They had no choice, considering what their task was. This was not about the status of her organization anyway. They just didn't want to lose control. Again, completely understandable.
"You want to put a girl like that in charge?" Somebody snapped. Caitlyn had the weird and somewhat disturbing thought he looked like a younger version of the unfortunate German general the Major had his vampires execute in front of their eyes. "This falls well under the jurisdiction of our Navy! It's no business of people like you. Now clear off!"
"I understand a fury in your words; But not the words," Caitlyn said calmly. The men stared at her. "Othello? Nobody?" She looked around. "I'm here to help. Not more, not less. Sir Penwood?"
"Yes," he said, relieved. No wonder people thought him to be a possible traitor. He just didn't have the courage to step in. "Please work with us in this, Lady Hellsing."
She smiled. "Sure. What's the situation?"
Penwood pointed to an electronic map on the wall. "Eighteen hours ago, communications were lost with our newly built Royal Navy aircraft carrier HMS Eagle on maneuvers in the Atlantic after it had broadcast a report about a helicopter of unknown origin. Presently it is sitting idle at a point north of the Netherlands, two hundred and fifty kilometers east of Hull." Penwood wiped his forehead with a handkerchief. "Originally this was our problem to deal with. However, here are satellite photos that were sent to us several hours ago. Have a look." He handed her a few photos. Walter whistled softly and Seras gasped. Caitlyn just looked through the photos. It was a huge swastika in a circle. The original had to be gigantic. Caitlyn pressed her lips together. Of course it could just be red paint, but she knew it was not.
Penwood sat down heavily. "Categorically this is no longer our problem. It's an act of madness."
"Though this be madness, yet there is method in 't," Caitlyn said, going through the photos a second time. "Millennium." Had she really expected anything else?
"Ridiculous!" Spoiler and McDaniels snapped again. "Vampires? Nazi remnants? This little joke is wearing thin!"
"Would you believe it if you saw a man ripped to shreds live on screen by those so-called jokes?", Caitlyn interrupted them. "I know somebody who could surely organize that footage for me if you wish. Or no, easier: you want a vampire, here you are. Walter, your turn. Don't injure anyone though." She turned around, but Walter was gone.
"Where is the bloke?", an older man with a round face asked, casting nervous glances around. His name tag called him Smith. "Lady Hellsing, I don't know what her Majesty sees in you, but you are clearly in no mental state to-" He broke off with a shriek, when he was lifted off the ground from behind. A shadow wrapped lazily around him, keeping him hovering about two feet in the air. Everybody except for Penwood, Seras and Caitlyn had moved back as much as the stuffed room allowed.
Walter shadow-walked in front of the terrified man, his red eyes flashing. "Please do not say such offending things to Lady Hellsing. The Hellsing organization is obviously the experts in all matters concerning the undead and occult. Will you listen to what she has to say?"
Even after five years, sometimes Caitlyn was stunned by how polite Walter could be, having heard more curses from him than she had thought the English language contained. The man made an unintelligible noise. Walter smiled brightly, flashing his fangs.
"So?"
"Y-Yes."
"Excellent." Smith crashed to the ground. It had gone dead silent. Walter politely left Caitlyn the stage.
"As I said, we're here to help," she repeated. And I hate violence. The problem is nobody lets me act like it. "Now for ourself and for this time of meeting. What do you think to do about it?"
A bespectacled officer cleared his throat, not stepping any closer to them. "Since... since the incident began we have tried several times to open communications. We've dispatched several reconnaissance planes. But once again, no reaction. We thought it was abandoned. A ghost ship."
"But?", Caitlyn asked. Millennium was behind this. That meant nothing good. They had to be careful.
"Our latest intelligence indicates one person on deck, beneath a parasol." Not only Caitlyn shot a glance to Walter, who frowned. Whoever it was, it had to be one from Millennium's premier league. Which meant they got to be good. Or had special talents. A Werwolf. Caitlyn had looked it up, the correct plural was not "Werwolfs", but "Werwölfe".
"Lady Hellsing?", Seras asked. "I... I'm not sure, but didn't Schrödinger say something about one of their officers being away from base?"
Caitlyn looked at her blankly for a moment, going over the meeting again while simultaneously trying to remember the Vatican's files. "Sure. Her name was Rip. Rita Patrizia Degener in her former life. I think."
"How do you want to know?" Penwood's voice was very quiet. He seemed more than happy she had taken this case from him.
"The Vatican's files. Rip, Rita, whatever. Just a guess. Doesn't matter. She's a huntress, I think. What did you do aside from reconnaissance?"
"Presently, two SAS squads are on approach via helicopter to assess and take control of the situation." Spoiler crossed his arms in defiance. Caitlyn felt all color leave her face.
"Order them to withdraw."
"What?!", the man snapped. "We'll have this resolved in a few minu-"
"Order them to retreat. Now," Caitlyn hissed. It was probably more Walter's threatening presence than her insistence, but it did the job. McDaniels rushed over to the radio.
"Hello? HQ calling in. Retreat. Immediately."
"Sir, visual confirmation of the Eagle. What's going on?"
"Retreat now," he repeated with a nervous glance back.
There was a curse on the radio. "What the hell? The A team-" The sound of ripping metal. Screams. Then the connection broke off. The men looked at each other in startled silence, uncomprehending of what had just happened.
Seras touched Caitlyn's shoulder and she realized she had been clenching her fists so hard her fingernails had left dark marks in her palms. Such skin was pretty tough, if you thought about it. To actually draw blood with your nails you would have to go with more force and that had to hurt like hell. It was just unrealistic in most cases.
"Happy now?", Caitlyn asked quietly. She wondered if the men (and women?) had families somewhere. Probably. She had to check if they were properly cared for.
"The helicopters are down," somebody on the controls announced in a shaking voice.
"The board weapons?", McDaniels almost shouted.
"No- no, Sir. The figure on the deck, we think. It was just one bullet... from a musket?" It was silent for a second. Then all hell broke loose. The leaders of this panicking bunch wanted reports, confirmation, think it was just a mistake. Caitlyn stared at the picture the satellite broadcast with a slight delay. Just a burning spot on the ocean's surface. A man can die but once. We owe God a death. I'll ne'er bear a base mind. An 't be my destiny, so; an 't be not, so. No man's too good to serve 's prince, and let it go which way it will, he that dies this year is quit for the next.
In this moment, Shakespeare's usually comforting words seemed to be sheer mockery.
I'll never pause again, never stand still, Till either death hath closed these eyes of mine, Or fortune given me measure of revenge. Too many had already died. And she had the horrible feeling they wouldn't be the last. Unless she prevented it. She and Iscariot's leader. Hopefully. Unless all he was saying and doing in front of her was just a charade. His blush certainly hadn't been, and his rapid pulse. She had to smile. He was not so much older than her. A child among all those old hands.
Her gaze fell on the photo of the huntress' painting again. She blinked.
"It's just a charade," she said. How could I be that stupid?! "All that glisters is not gold. It's just a trick." She turned around and went for the door, just fast enough to pretend she was not running.
"Where are you going Lady Caitlyn?", Penwood asked, jumping to his feet in panic.
"Let her go," somebody, McDaniels maybe, sneered.
"They're trying to buy themselves time. Stay away from that ship, we're handling it. Rather prepare for a possible attack. Millennium won't wait for long." The doors slammed shut behind them. Unlike before, the corridor was empty. Thank God.
"Lady Hellsing, what will we do?", Seras asked.
"They're trying to trick us. The longer we take, the better for them. It's so obvious." Caitlyn quickened her pace once again, though she was not sure herself where they were going. Back home, she supposed. She could think better there than with everybody staring at her. Maybe the Vatican had some clever ideas as well. They couldn't want Millennium roaming freely either.
"So we ignore them?", Seras asked.
"No. That's too dangerous. The only bright side is, they're trapped."
"Why is that?", Seras asked, confused.
"To vampires, the sea is the same as the pits of hell's cauldron," Walter explained, looking less than pleased. "If they manage to escape the Eagle, that is where they would fall to."
"And that's the case for us too," Caitlyn added miserably. She pushed a loose strand behind her ear and opened the ponytail completely after that didn't work out.
"It's threat and besiegement. We need to get either you, Walter, or Mira on that ship. But how?"
"What about a heavy war ship?", Seras proposed quietly
"Bullshit," Caitlyn murmured, despite having to smile. "Overkill and takes too long. A small high-speed boat?" She answered herself. "A plane, a boat, the ship is heavily armed and even if not, this musket thing is their strongest defense. Not a chance we can get anyone on there without being shot down."
"To conclude, somehow I need to go there, an aircraft carrier at sea, defended by missiles, a hail of bullets and a magic weapon." Seras shrieked and quickly covered her mouth with her hands. Caitlyn winced and spun. How often did she have to tell Mira she shouldn't just appear next to her? Walter was worse, of course, but she still hated it.
"Doesn't sound very reasonable, I know," Caitlyn said with a glare.
"Lady Caitlyn?", Seras asked. "I might have an idea. It was just a rumor we heard when we were employed in America, but..."
North Sea, Latitude 54.46, Longitude 3.15, near aircraft carrier HMS Eagle, September 21st, 2016
"This is Alpha Leader, all units report in."
"Alpha 2, check."
"Alpha 3, check."
"In twenty seconds we will launch a coordinated strike. Commence your attack on my signal."
"Roger."
"Roger."
Seconds passed. "Fire!"
The missiles went on their way, to deliver their lethal blows to whoever was waiting on the carrier. A blue band of light swirled through the air, almost impossible to be seen. The missiles went up in flames, spraying burning metal over the ocean.
"The missiles self-destructed?", one pilot gasped.
"Impossible, they were taken out!"
"All units reform and-" The aircraft was ripped to shreds, tumbling like a drunk bumblebee to the ocean's surface.
"Alpha 2! What's wrong?!" Orders or not, the aircraft swerved to get away. Too late. Another one fell victim to the magic bullet.
"What happened Alpha 3? Respond! Alpha 3!" The leader had finally understood what a mistake he had made. Not that this helped him any longer. A thread of blue light wrapped around the aircraft. Then the screen went blank.
The three pilots leaned back, pale and trembling. Penwood wiped sweat off his forehead and looked at the young woman these three men owed their lives to. Caitlyn had her hands clenched around the table, but she was smiling.
"Do we have any footage of the carrier?", she asked. Grudgingly, the Royal Navy officers obeyed. So far, nothing. They would have to wait. Everything was in the hands of her vampire now.
"Lady Hellsing?" Caitlyn turned to see the three pilots saluting her. "RAF Flight lieutenants Palmer, Kerr and Ortiz. We want to express our thanks."
Caitlyn smiled, obviously uncomfortable. "No need to. Thank you for helping us out in this."
"If we had stuck to normal procedures, we would be dead," Ortiz said. "I would not get to go home to my little daughter's birthday. I'm very grateful for this."
"Really, in the current circumstances it would have been madness to send manned aircrafts," Caitlyn said. "That's why we have drones in the first place. Thank you for your assistance. And my greetings to your daughter."
The men saluted again and were dismissed. Caitlyn sat down, shaking so badly she almost spilled the tea that was offered to her. Penwood couldn't believe a fragile girl like that could cope with all of this. Millennium, the hostilities from every institution, the Round Table, Iscariot. He certainly would falter after a few days.
She had stormed in only fifteen minutes after she had left, asking him to make contact with the RAF. She needed something specific, a SR-71, and a distraction for the huntress on the ship. Ignoring the protest of pretty much everyone in the room, Penwood had accompanied her to meet an executive of the R&D department, Leonard Cauliet. He had been just as suspicious as anyone, but Caitlyn hadn't cared, and this time the reinforcement by her butler was not needed. Cauliet accepted the authority of the Queen's trust.
Penwood was not even sure how Caitlyn knew about the SR-71, dubbed Firebird, since she had Cauliet explain its history and features to her.
The Firebird was an experimental stratospheric model, coded EXP 14L-E. Two of these reconnaissance jets were retired from active service years ago and sold from the U.S. military to the British RAF. The exterior was left like it was with the Americans, but the interior got a complete make-over. They had removed the reconnaissance facilities and retailored the plane to be a one-seater. It was built to break altitude and speed records, but by now it was not up to date anymore, so it was more for personal use. Despite being suspicious, Cauliet had no objections after Caitlyn explained it was a matter of national security to reach the Eagle.
"How do you want to land it on there? The ship is too short," Cauliet had asked, but Caitlyn was already running out, waving a cheery goodbye with the papers she had retrieved. Still, it had cost them more than a day to get everything ready. All flights closer than ten kilometers to the ship were canceled or guided around the area. The airspace was closed off for good, no matter how much the companies moaned.
Despite admitting time was of the essence, she had refused to lead any maneuver (or let anyone make a maneuver) until the action committee agreed to use drones instead of manned aircrafts. Penwood didn't think they did because she was making sense, they wouldn't listen to her arguments in the first place, because she was no expert. But they had grown tired and Penwood was silently grateful for the young Lady's stubbornness. He didn't want to be responsible for any more losses either.
And now she was sitting here, staring at the satellite video than was broadcasted to her, and listening in on the radio connecting her with her servant. The clock would soon strike nine, and night was falling quickly outside. This time, she had nobody accompanying her. Her butler was off to somewhere, which was, Penwood had to admit, a huge relief.
"Mira? Can you see the Eagle?" Her voice was almost balanced, he had to give her that.
"Yes, Master. I'll be there soon." An explosion, the grinding of metal. "It's time."
More interference. The video showed the plane getting hit and starting to tumble. "She- She's nosediving on the ship!", McDaniels gasped.
"Take heed," the vampire queen growled. "For if thou presumeth to flirt with spirits, thou shalt join them." Penwood felt a shiver run down his back and he was not the only one. Caitlyn closed her eyes. "Revenge should have no bounds," she whispered.
"Indeed, my master." The vampire laughed. "Control art restriction system. Level 3, level 2, level 1. Released." It sounded like a threat. Which it was, judging from Caitlyn's face.
"Es sei, bei den Pforten der Hölle!", Mira proclaimed. There was a roar, but Penwood was not sure if it was the burning plane or the vampire. He didn't want to know.
"They lie deadly that tell you you have good faces," Penwood heard Caitlyn murmur. Over the crackling of the radio, he could not be sure. "It's all up to you. Thank you. Good luck." The connection was cut off. A few seconds later, the satellite surveillance showed why.
The burning plane crashed, nose first, into the aircraft carrier. The whole scene was engulfed in a fireball. For minutes, it was silent. Everybody was watching, but in this inferno nobody could see what was happening of course.
"And now?", McDaniels snapped at Caitlyn. "That was one of our best planes. Did you plan this from the beginning?"
"Mira knows what she does. You should rather prepare for an attack. Millennium won't wait much longer. We have a few days at the most. What do I know?"
McDaniels snorted, but didn't respond, and turned back to the monitors. From somewhere, a soft melody drifted through the room, a song that had become popular with a movie franchise a few years ago. Caitlyn picked up her phone. "Hello? Who are you?"
She listened. Then she went white as a sheet. Her voice was inaudible, but Penwood could read her lips. "Thank you." She put away the phone, her body trembling. Penwood felt himself grow cold.
Her voice was that of a spooked little girl.
"They're coming," she said.
Iscariot HQ, Vatican City, September 20th, 2016
"You and Bishop Cornelius did not have the best relationship, I understand?"
"If you mean by that that he tried to discredit me in every situation, then yes, I think you could call it 'not having the best relationship'."
The man with the dark hair and almost black eyes didn't betray an emotion. "So he wanted to take your place, your grace?"
Enrico forced himself to smile. He managed quite convincingly, he thought, considering they were going over this question for the third time in the matter of two hours. "Not at all. He just didn't want me in this position. You see, I think everybody knows Iscariot and John are some kind of rivals, which is quite a pity. Bishop Cornelius was against my... let's be real, very early promotion from the beginning." He didn't add a humorous remark like "Maybe he was right, but I'm doing my best". The charm card was wasted on these guys.
The man nodded. "Any idea who might have done this?"
"You mean except for me? Look at the list you got from his section."
The dark-haired agent frowned. "How do you know?" Finally a little fresh wind in this conversation. Even if they were just pretending to be surprised.
Enrico raised one eyebrow. "You think he's the only one getting death threats? Please. That's part of the job. As far as I remember I never uttered one though. I do understand why you would look at me first, and I'd love to make your work easier, but I'm afraid you got the wrong person." He pretended to look at the time. "If you would excuse me, I've got important preparations to make." He stood up to show them the way out. The dark-haired agent looked at his partner, who hadn't said a word in two hours. They stood up.
"Thank you for your time, your Grace."
About time they would leave. It was almost midday, and he had barely managed to get anything done. The cardinals all over the world were ready to take over should Millennium turn out to be wired in every government. A few moments Enrico had thought about calling his parents once again, but they knew what to do and he really had no time for that right now. He had finally set up the program that would eventually track down Millennium, and redirected the results to his phone, but that was about it. Just as he was done those two men in black had come in and started what they probably perceived as an interrogation.
He would depart for the French coast tomorrow, where he would meet the crusaders of the knight orders. The paladins of Iscariot were going directly to London the next midday. Not an awful lot of rest for Heinkel, then. She had come home in the middle of the last night, and should come in to give a short report on what she had found soon. Not that he was worried about her. She would never miss such a battle in her life, and as one of their best paladins, she had every right to be there. They needed all power they could get.
"Just to satisfy my curiosity: How did he die?", Enrico asked.
"Some of his pain medication was replaced with rat poison."
Enrico frowned, playing confused. "One should think he would have tasted the difference."
The agent nodded. "That is one of the main points we try to explain."
"Then good luck," Enrico said with a shrug of his shoulders. The two agents looked at him sharply.
"Any idea you would like to share, your Grace?"
"It's nothing. I just couldn't help thinking that maybe something in the scheme went wrong. But of course, the dead don't normally answer. At least not those in your jurisdiction."
He showed the agents of Section II out and returned to his office. Great. That was done for - for now. Not really a surprise that an investigation was opened. Cornelius was an old hand, an important figure for many years. To go out like that – a cunning little plan. Enrico had given as many hints as he could, maybe Section II would be occupied long enough for him to bring the crusade to a success. Well, to be exact, no matter how the crusade ended, he would be beyond worrying about this case. Whatever Cornelius didn't succeed in doing, it had come too late. "You should have dealt with me long before, old friend," Enrico said, amused.
"What?" He looked up to see Lisa standing in the door, a tablet with steaming cups in her hands.
"Nothing." She set down the tablet and Enrico took a cup. Not too hot anymore, and just the right amount of cocoa and milk. Perfect. "You're a godsend, you know that?"
Lisa smiled, but only briefly. "So Cornelius is dead?", she asked.
"More than the damned Nazis." He raised his gaze at the white ceiling. You'd think a shady organization like Iscariot would be established in a somewhat more sinister building. But no, he even had quite a nice view. "You have to give him that: Rat poison? He's clever. Overestimated himself a bit, I suppose."
Lisa nodded slowly. "Why didn't you tell me?"
Enrico looked at her blankly for a moment. "Didn't I?" She shook her head. "Guess I forgot then. It's going down all at the same time. By the way, I'm going to France tomorrow. Be so nice and take care everything here stays in order while so many of us are gone."
Lisa reacted just like he had expected: Indignated. "I'm not staying here."
"I need someone to take my place while we're gone - " She didn't even let him finish, but jumped to her feet and stared him directly in the eyes. Enrico was not surprised to see her angry about being left behind, but that was not it. She was not irritated, she was furious, and terrified.
"I'm. Not. Staying. Here," she repeated.
There was a knock on the door and Heinkel walked in.
"Am I interrupting something?", she asked, wavering between confusion and a joke. The siblings were inches from each other and Lisa looked ready to rip out someone's throat. She sat down.
"Not at all. We were discussing something. Want some hot chocolate?"
"Would be stupid to say no." The paladin sat down and took a sip. "Awesome. Thanks."
Enrico leaned back and crossed his legs. "So, what did you find?"
Heinkel gave a short summary about what had happened in the club, from how they checked on it first, got in, and then how they fought.
In her opinion, the night club was one of many "institutions" Millennium used to gather blood for sustaining their vampires. Enrico agreed. That was the only thing that made sense. He listened up when she came to the point where Victoria seemed to be caught in some kind of trance.
"She saw the night her parents died," Heinkel said. She finished the hot chocolate and sighed. "Seriously, I'm still pissed I let that bitch get away. I screwed up. Sorry."
"It's fine," Enrico said.
Heinkel raised an eyebrow. That was about the last thing she had expected. "Seriously?"
"We heard about her. Zorin Blitz. She's one of the so-called "werewolves" of Millennium. Their officers, I suppose. We will take care of her soon anyway. Her powers could be a problem, though, if she can use them on groups. How is Victoria?"
"In school, I guess," Heinkel said. Grinning, she added: "Which probably means she's sleeping."
"You don't plan on taking her to London?"
Heinkel looked at him like he had just suggested she might be a Martian. "No way. She's on a good way, but we're facing an army. I'm not taking a kid to war."
Enrico raised his hands. "Just a question. No need to jump at my throat."
"Sorry." She sighed. "Am I being too protective?"
"I think you're right," Lisa said. "If she was my trainee, no matter how advanced, she shouldn't get involved in this." Enrico glared at her. That was exactly the reason why he didn't want her to come. But that moment of looking into her eyes had already told him; he had lost. His last chance would be leaving her in France.
"The others are preparing?", Enrico asked.
"Yup. We'll start tomorrow at noon, okay?"
"Sounds good. Anything else?"
"Anderson asked if we could come to the orphanage. He said he wanted to tell us something." Heinkel shrugged her shoulders. "Don't look at me. I don't know. Anyway, I gotta go, I have stuff to do before I can have a relaxing evening with Yumie and Vicky before the big battle."
Iscariot's director nodded and Heinkel waved them goodbye before she left. Enrico looked at the clock. Half past one.
He stood up and picked up the empty cups. "What do you think about lunch before we head down to Ferdinant Luke's?"
Lisa shot him a dreary glance he couldn't really place. What was wrong with her all of a sudden? She stood up and followed him. "Sounds good."
They headed for the exit, and bumped right into Giorgio Panini, one of the newer paladins. Enrico was not too busy for learning the name of everybody who managed to get through the training, but he remembered him especially well because of his twin brother. The chubby, nervous, brilliant Cristoforo in Section IV. Who still had Enrico's sword. How could he possibly have forgotten about that? It had only been four days, which had been incredibly busy of course, but...
"Chief Maxwell?"
"Giorgio. How can I help you?" It was always good to show everybody you knew their names. Helped a lot for the team play.
The young man seemed nervous anyway. "My brother asked me to give you this." He handed Enrico an envelope.
"Thank you. That was all?" The young paladin nodded and said a hasty goodbye. That these newbies were all so jumpy. He was not going to eat anyone. The rules might be strict, but fair. In any case he had Lisa taking care of that.
He opened the envelope. In there was a crumpled sheet with what looked like grease stains on it. The message was written in sharpie and sounded excited.
DONE! Please come asap! It's incredible!
That was better news than expected. Now everything was falling in place and he was even rid of Cornelius. It could not be more perfect.
"What are you waiting for? I'm hungry," Lisa complained. He looked at the grimy paper again. He definitely needed to clean the sword when he got it. And he wanted it right now, if he was being honest. Lisa grabbed his arm and dragged him along, making his decision to miss lunch for it obsolete. Enrico complied. He ripped the paper to shreds while walking and tossed them into a waste basket on the street. "Didn't like the news?", Lisa asked.
"On the contrary. Hey, you know what, I need to go to Section IV after lunch. I've got a surprise, but for tomorrow." Lisa raised an eyebrow and nodded. She was less enthusiastic than he had hoped and expected. Lisa hated waiting, but loved surprises. So no complaints?
"I'm a bit disappointed," he admitted.
She shrugged her shoulders and dragged him into the direction where she wanted to get them something to eat. Enrico barely looked at it and also was too absent to listen to his sister. He wondered what the sword would be like, how it would work, and if he could use it. He had trouble with fencing in general, so it didn't look good for him. And in the matter of one day?
But in his curiosity these arguments seemed laughable. He couldn't wait. Cristoforo surely had not been so excited for no reason. So the moment he sensed he could get away, he said goodbye to his sister, promising she would be amazed by what he wanted to show her later. Lisa didn't look all too convinced, but let him go.
So this time, as far as he remembered for the first time since that one initial visit when he became Chief of Iscariot, Enrico entered the main quarters of Andrew in bright daylight, and for some reason that seemed official. The corridors were deserted. The door opened all by itself again, as did every one of them. He found Cristoforo in the same room he had met him first. To his surprise, the room was perfectly clean, and the young engineer was shaven and wore a clean dark shirt and ironed trousers. "Monsignore." His eyes were sparkling. He had even forgotten his nervousness.
"Where is it?"
Cristoforo hurried to the desk, and picked up the sheathed sword. Almost like a holy artifact in a mass, he handed it to Enrico. It didn't look much different than before, the bishop thought. The metal and gems had been polished and gleamed in the afternoon sun. It might be a bit heavier than before, but that was no big surprise.
"Would you like to test it?", Cristoforo asked, just as excited, but not as good at hiding it.
"Sure." The boy hesitated, then pointed at Enrico's belt. "It would be easiest if you put it on."
"Right." Enrico did so. The weight was something to get used to, but not worse than a fully loaded gun. It felt good. It felt right, for some reason, like it belonged to him. Which it did, from now on. Well, technically Yumie had found it... he dismissed the thought. That was his weapon. Yumie had her own.
He wondered if Caitlyn... no. No, no, no. He had to stop thinking about her like that. The only relevant question was, how much did Britain know? Were they prepared? There were so many leaks on both sides, he couldn't be sure if they knew about the Ninth Crusade. That was all that mattered. His hour was about to come and he would not miss it for some... some... stupid, childish crush. There, he had admitted it. He had a crush on the pretty redhead. Didn't change a thing. She would hate him after this anyway, so why bother with trying to be nice beyond any practical means?
"Monsignore?" Enrico blinked and found he was still in the HQ of Section IV. Cristoforo offered him a broad black bracelet. "There's a chip embedded for activating the additional functions. You might want to try that." Enrico nodded and put on the bracelet. Looked like something a metal fan would wear. Cristoforo squirmed under the skeptical glance.
"We didn't find anything else. It was all a bit of a rush."
"Does it work through clothing?", Enrico asked.
"Yes. We made sure of that."
Enrico nodded and drew the sword. To his amazement, it began to shimmer slightly, like an electrical current running over the blade and creating a pale blue aura.
"We- we don't know why this is. It just is," Cristoforo explained nervously. "The sword is old, much older than we initially thought. Monsignore, may I ask of you to return it to us once the... the crusade is over? We would like to run a few more tests. You can have it back whenever you wish, of course," he added hastily.
Enrico smiled, testing the balance of the sword in his hand and taking a few test swings. That felt so much better than in his training for some reason. He was going to ask how to activate the "additional" functions, but his wrist already brushed over the sheath. He saw the gems light up. Now it really looked like there was an electrical current running over the metal straps around the sheath. He wasn't sure where to look first, because something similar was happening to the sword itself, like on some sci-fi device unfolding a wall of blue light. Then everything went black.
"Monsignore! Monsignore Maxwell, are you alright?" Enrico blinked, looking into a neon lamp on the ceiling. How the hell had he gotten here? Here, like the corner of the room.
"What?" A round, panicked face came into his view. Enrico somehow managed to sit up. Ouch.
"What happened?" But then he already remembered. The recoil had been a tiny bit stronger than expected. Cristoforo helped him to his feet.
"Are you alright?", he asked again. "I'm so sorry, I should have warned you."
Enrico shook his head, partially to get rid of the dizziness, partially to dismiss the boy's apology. He would get bruises from this, but that was certainly worth it. "That's incredible. How the hell did you manage that in four days?"
"We... were lucky. Like, really lucky. We don't understand it ourselves, to be honest." He rubbed the back of his neck.
"What do you mean 'we'? Where is everybody, for that matter?"
Cristoforo sat down at the surveillance screens. The whole building seemed to be empty.
"The HQ was moved temporarily because of the preparations. I... me and my friends who helped me on this... we've been suspended two weeks ago. The chief thinks we're traitors. He doesn't know I still got all codes."
Enrico frowned, admiring the glistening metal. "I'll see to that once I'm back. It would be a crime to waste your talent. What about your friends?"
"Michele Rizzoli," the young man said after a moment's hesitation. "He ran the tests. A-And Anthony Blake, he programmed everything."
Enrico nodded absently. He slid the bracelet over the top of the sheath again. This time, he was prepared and stayed on his feet. It was not perfect, he needed training, but he could manage until tomorrow. "How did you manage to store all that energy?"
"The batteries are the most powerful we could fit in. It also recharges itself. The stronger the impact, the more energy is absorbed. ...That's what the experiment showed. We don't know how that is even possible."
There was electricity running over the bands on the sheath, even the blade of the sword, lighting it up in blue sparks. That was impossible. It defied all laws of physic, not even counting the fact that Enrico had just touched the current and felt nothing, not even a tickling. That much power should be able to fry him.
"Sir... You are the expert in this and the owner, so we didn't want to do anything without your permit, but... we were discussing involving Section III. The sword is older than we initially thought and works... Monsignore, this is not physics. That's something else. It's some kind of magic."
Enrico raised an eyebrow at him. "Magic?"
"H-Holy magic, of course. Not some devil's work," Cristoforo stuttered. "It might be an artifact." He didn't need to add what he thought: And we modernized it. Changing anything, even the tiniest bit, about a relic without permission was a reason to be accused of heresy. In comparison, this was a sacrilege. Nothing happened until somebody finds out.
Enrico gave the boy a bright smile, already putting on his coat again, without bothering to take off the sword. It vanished under the black fabric. He needed to get used to it anyway.
"You, my friend, and your friends as well, deserve more recognition. I'll see what I can do once I'm back. Bernard is not an idiot, as far as I know." He grinned. "And even if, Iscariot has always a place for extraordinary talents. Don't forget to ask you friend Blake about that facial recognition program. I'd love to hear about it."
"Of course, Sir," Cristoforo replied, mildly confused. "E... Grazie mille."
"The least I can do. Ciao." With that, Enrico stormed out the door and left the young engineer behind. Anderson had asked them to come to the orphanage anyway. The paladins were all at their specific homes or wherever to calm down before the action would start. Millennium's attack could commence any time now. So Enrico would have the gym of the real base all to himself. Time to practice. For that matter, he just noticed his hand didn't even hurt anymore. After the little mishap yesterday that was a miracle.
The weather was nice, he could walk to the orphanage. It wasn't that far. He checked his phone. Still no news that his tracking program had found Millennium. It had been a very hasty set-up at the beginning, and had been finished very late, the next day. Maybe he had screwed it up. What a disgrace. That wouldn't have happened to the boy who hacked into the Canadian SIS in 2003. But not even that managed to dampen his euphoria. He still had all the usual channels and it was not that the Vatican was threatened. The Vatican was the threat.
Hopefully, Caitlyn wouldn't get hurt during the attack, until Iscariot got her into custody. He had to issue that order before they departed. Alive, of course, and unharmed. He had to shake his head about his own foolishness. That woman had screwed up his head pretty good. He would deal with it once all of this was over.
Renaldo, who was more adept to modern technology, had written him a message concerning exactly this. The British aircraft carrier HMS Eagle had obviously fallen to Millennium. Hellsing was out to deal with it somehow. They were currently organizing an aircraft to get the vampire Vladimira on that ship. Enrico frowned and almost walked right into a street lamp while looking at his phone. He stuffed it back in his pocket and paid attention to his path from now on.
Sending the vampire on the ship was like putting her into a cell. Sure, Hellsing still had its other pet monster, but it was fairly obvious the butler was by far not as powerful as "Alucard".
Surely Caitlyn could not be that stupid, right? She would not send her most powerful, and bitterly needed, weapon away with an enemy waiting right at her front door. That could only be the Major's plan and Caitlyn was too smart to fall for it. Right?
Then again, she was under stress, she was very young, and didn't really fit her position anyway. She would send Vladimira. That only made it easier for Iscariot.
Enrico quickened his pace, a smile on his lips and his steps lighter than ever. Everything was falling into place, was going great, despite small setbacks. He was too clever to let that stop him. Soon, he would be the Vatican's new hero, and go another step to becoming one of the most powerful men in the world. Britain would belong to the true servants of God. And if Caitlyn was clever, which she certainly was, she would yield and become a Catholic. She wanted to be friends? Very well, why not? It would add the final touch to an already perfect success.
Caitlyn and him. Like that was a thing.
Es sei, bei den Pforten der Hölle! = So be it, by the gates of Hell! (a quote from Der Freischütz; a very good opera, by the way.)