Chapter 29: Blood Red Skies
Deus Ex Machina, September 22nd, 2016, 5am
The corridors were empty. Blood coated the walls, already mingled with smoke and ash. His feet kicked up small clouds where the last vampires had met their unexpected end.
The Doctor should really have thought better than making it possible to trigger all chips at once. But he had been as brilliant as he was paranoid. If he needed to make a getaway while the Major still cared about it, it would have been necessary. He would have been a remarkable addition to Iscariot. It was about time they got their own technical department. Relying on Section IV was way too risky in times when everybody tried to bring them down. Bernard would be unreasonable, so they would have to take what they could get. Luckily, that was the easy part.
The zeppelin tumbled from one side to the other like a drunken bumblebee. Enrico barely noticed it. With the vampires gone, Lisa should be out of danger. That left only this "Captain".
Most of the doors in between were already open. One wasn't. The generators were slowly failing, and this part of the airship was only illuminated by holes in the walls and a soft blue glow.
Deep in thought, Enrico stopped in front of the door. He laid a hand on the metal, his blue eyes unfocused, far away from reality. The rational part of him was thinking about how he should approach this final opponent and what it would be like. The rest wondered if Lisa was okay and tried to hold the fear of the future at bay. They hadn't lost, right? Maybe he didn't have to end up in the dungeons after all.
He didn't see the blue spark running from the sheath. The door slid open and he continued his path.
The end of the corridor was marked by another thick, electric door. It slid open by its own accord, revealing a giant Nazi Eagle and a swastika painted on the floor.
Enrico didn't take a deep breath or stop to get himself together. He wouldn't stop shaking until he had a shower and at least twelve hours of sleep. He was exhausted and terrified and, more than anything, furious. At Millennium, at all these idiots from the other Sections, and at himself for being such an arrogant, greedy asshole.
He stepped over bits of broken glass and piles of ash. His feet made crunching noises that seemed impossibly loud. The command center was very quiet, too quiet in such a raging battle. The room was gigantic, the walls weren't walls at all, but a myriad of screens. Some of them were broken, but the rest was enough to show what was happening.
Enrico stopped, trying to understand what was going on. Why were the vampires fighting against each other? Vladimira and the butler were on the same side. Or had been, at least. Where was Anderson? He couldn't be... Could he be dead? Could the vampire have actually defeated him?
No.
He mustn't believe that. There was a different explanation. After all these losses, it couldn't have been for nothing.
"Ah, welcome." The shrill voice made him wince.
Fixed to a mechanical arm suspended from the ceiling, there was a leather chair, like the most eccentric comfy chair in the world. It had its back turned towards him, facing the screens. Now it turned in a slow circle, revealing the Major in all of his insane glory. He was just as small as he had been described, around 160 centimeters. The fabric of his white suit strained against his pudgy flesh, especially the roll on his stomach. The puffy cheeks were split in a wide grin, his golden eyes shining in the dim lights. He looked every centimeter the madman he was.
Lisa was nowhere to be seen.
The Major looked Enrico over from head to toe, taking in every detail, from the borrowed coat, over his sword, to the battered look in general. His smile didn't change a bit while Enrico refused to turn his eyes away and just glowered at him. He was only hoping the Major didn't notice how furiously he tried to figure out what to say. His peripheral vision in the meanwhile tried to notice any disturbance, hoping for Lisa to be here, hiding. He had taken care of the vampires. She would be perfectly fine.
It was delightful to see the Major frown, as if displeased. Maybe he wasn't such a sorry appearance after all.
"You are not ze vone I expected vhen I came here," the Major said, eventually. "But, none ze less, I am... impressed you made it." His eyes wandered from Maxwell's fluorescent blue eyes to the sword again. "Ze Doctor vould haf enjoyed taking a look at zis."
Enrico didn't get the obvious reference. "I already paid him a visit. A brilliant man. You were lucky to have him." He couldn't help a smile when his gaze wandered over the ash strewn everywhere. "Maybe not that lucky."
The Major shrugged. "He vas always a bit... overbearing."
"Surely," Enrico said, giving his voice an edge of sarcasm. "Loyal, too."
"Zose are the only vones vorth employing. Now zen, don't you vant to kill me? Attack me, revenge all your fallen friends." He stood up and walked towards Enrico, stopping a few meters away with his hands behind his back. When Enrico didn't move, the Major smiled a bit wider.
"No? Zat surprises me. You don't seem to be such a forgiving type. What about ze lovely Miss Volfe or your irreplaceable Vather Renaldo? All zese paladins and crusaders... maybe even ze population of London? It's your time, Archbishop. Maybe ze last of your life."
Enrico felt the last bit of color leave his face. Heinkel was dead? Marco was dead?
"T-That's a lie."
The Major's smile widened. "Aber, aber... vhich reason vould I haf to lie, dearest archbishop? No, I'm afraid ze "Chaos Girls" found zeir match vith ze Captain. And ze good Vather... vell, sometimes accidents happen in such a turmoil. My condolences."
Enrico clenched his fists. He had to press them against his legs to hide the shaking. This couldn't be!
But of course the Major had no reason to lie. The truth was much more upsetting. Much more painful. "Fine," he spat out through gritted teeth. "Let's get this over with, Major."
The Major laughed as if that was the best joke he had ever heard. "Wery vell. I vas actually hoping for a pretty lady to be my company... but it's too late for zat now, I suppose. Let's enjoy ze show."
"What show?"
The Major turned back to the screens. "Oh, I'm sure you vill like it-" He broke off and for the first time, a look of incredulity and then rage swept over his features. His eyes narrowed to tiny golden slits.
"Zis foolish little brat!", he said, almost too low to be heard.
Enrico stared at the monitors, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. The blood moved. From everywhere, a giant stream was rushing towards the vampires. And right in the middle stood the butler.
Walter Dornez, the vampire.
Enrico started to laugh. Suddenly he knew what all of this was about. It was easy, really, if you knew where to look. He should have seen it earlier.
Abigail van Helsing had written about it in her diary, and sent everything to a friend at the Vatican, before Stoker could even get the idea of writing his novel. More than one hundred years later, a young priest named Maxwell stumbled over it. And suddenly he had known where his place was. He would become the leader of Iscariot and exterminate every last one of these monsters.
"You were speculating on her greed all along, weren't you, Major?" The fat little man spun, his eyes flaring with rage he could not conceal. Enrico didn't pay attention to him. It was so delightful to say all of this out loud. "Alucard – Vladimira – is not just a vampire. She's a fortress. She has all these souls, all these lives, accumulated in five hundred years of undeath.
"Well, now she's released everything. Of course, she's still a fearful opponent, but you don't have to worry about that because you won't fight her directly. You had Anderson for that, and then you somehow got the butler to turn against Hellsing, for a reason I don't care about. And in the end, the whole point was her drinking all of this."
The Major glared at him without even trying to hide it. "Congratulations, Vather Maxwell. Wery clever. I always knew you vere more zan you seemed to be. But this is not everything. Vhat is ze final point?"
"I don't know," Enrico confessed. "Does it really matter, now that Dornez has ruined your whole plan?" He smiled innocently. "Seventy years of preparation and you lose, because you misjudge one player. How does that feel? Your whole existence just became pointless."
The Major ignored him and turned back to the screens. "Nein. It ist not over yet. I haf not yet lost."
"Yeah, tell yourself that," Enrico said. The Major liked to hear himself talking. Time to rub his own attitude right into his face while he could. "You made several mistakes. First, your spies failed for one reason or the other. You didn't expect the butler to be a vampire. Then you misjudged his strength. Vladimira's river of death is scary as hell, but Dornez is a vampire of her blood and he had lots of time to train. He is not as powerful, but he has access to the same mechanisms. And it seems to me that he doesn't like being pushed around. Whatever you wanted to happen to Alucard will now happen to him. And I just have to sit back and look what comes out of it. Actually, that's the best outcome possible in this situation. You get rid of the butler and Anderson will kill Vladimira, by her own wish. Isn't that..."
He thought how Marco had nodded him goodbye in France. How Heinkel had leaped over the railing of the boat or how she had winked at him before he and Lisa went down the corridor, leaving the Chaos Girls to tend to the vampires. The stories they had shared, the good times, the bad times, everything.
"...perfect."
St. Paul's Cathedral, September 22nd, 5.15 am
A splash of blood hit Mira in the face, hot and sweet. She wiped it away with her finger and licked it off. The taste was wonderful, full of life. She couldn't get enough of it, even so many years later. Walter didn't say anything. Even he needed his concentration for such masses. But the blood stopped, floating in midair, gurgling on the ground, before it reached him.
"Ladies first," he purred, spreading his arms in a mocking gesture. "What kind of gentleman would I be to act in any other way? Don't you want your fill, queen? Let's carry this out until the end. Unless," his lips twisted in a snarl. "You want to take your chances. Maybe, if you have killed me a few thousand times, you can finally go on to your duel with the Judas Priest. Your precious Anderson."
Mira closed her eyes. "You silly, silly boy. Is this all this is about? That you are afraid of being alone? Or your ridiculous jealousy? The Major was right – you were just a tool, no matter what you might think."
He barked a bitter laugh. "Don't flatter yourself. The Major is as much an idiot as you are a dog. You just follow orders. I act by my own free will. I choose who to serve, or if to serve at all. And it's certainly not the Major."
"Was it that horrible?", Mira asked quietly. "Arthur was always a tyrant, wasn't he?"
Walter raised his eyebrows, pretending not to have understood. Mira shook her head. "Forget it."
He could not take being a dog of war, unless it was out of his own free will. It would be a waste of time to point out the flaws in his logic.
The only thing that was important now were Caitlyn's orders. "Master."
"Oh, don't start with that!", Caitlyn snapped at her. Mira blinked at the sudden anger of the young woman. Minutes ago she had been trembling with fear and indecision. "You are doing whatever you want anyway! I can't believe two people as old as you are behaving that childish! Walter, you always get pissed on being called a child. I never thought I'd say that, but maybe you should stop acting like one then. A vampire love triangle for God's sake. You got to be shitting me!"
Walter and Mira exchanged a glance, just out of habit. For a second, their shared confusion turned back the time a few days.
It was always better to be angry than to be scared. Even if Caitlyn wanted to, what was there to do for her? The archbishop took care of the Major. The rest of the Last Battalion had gone up in flames, literally. There was nothing more to do until morning came and the outside world was let in to clean up whatever was left. Mira and Walter were the last act of the play.
The vampire queen looked at her former partner and understood. He was already strong, his own controls in full effect. If he drank the blood now, he would take in all these lives and just kill her.
Would it be so bad to die at the hands of a loved one?
No, it was not. But she was a servant to Hellsing, which Walter had betrayed. That obliged her to destroy him, no matter what she wished. And once he drank all of this blood, that was next to impossible.
I'm sorry, Alexander. Mira returned her gaze to Walter. "Well, if you ask me like that. Very considerate to put your lady first. I always knew you were a gentleman."
Airship "Deus Ex Machina", September 22nd, 5.25 am
The Major's smile seemed to split his face in two. It was the most disgusting expression Enrico had ever seen. The fat man settled back in his chair.
"Didn't I tell you? It ist not over yet."
"So, both are done for, if everything works according to your plan." Enrico spread his arms. What the hell. Did it really still matter now? "Surprise me. Explain your evil plan."
The Major acknowledged the reference with a snicker. "As you vish. You see, ze great nosferatu, vampire queen Vladimira, and her loyal, desperate friend Walter are going to disappear vithout a trace."
Enrico raised one eyebrow and returned his gaze too the monitors.
The blood seemed to glow all by itself as it flowed towards the vampires and disappeared into their mouths. They weren't contesting about it. They shared. As if it was a nice night out for two friends. No matter what, if they were to fight now, it would take very, very long.
The outside speakers cracked loudly when he opened the channel. The Major's clapping echoed over the dead city like thunder. He snickered again. It was the sound of someone that just asked to be punched in the face the moment he opened his mouth.
"Vhat an amazing show," he said. "Zat ist just ze var I vanted. All for zis one moment."
"Shut it," Walter snapped. "You lose, Major. This was never about you. You're just a self-important idiot that wanted his great moment to die."
"Ah, still so fierce. Maybe, maybe. In ze end, I don't really care if I die or not. But zat does not change anyzing. I win. You lose." He almost sang the last words.
Mira and Walter looked at each other and laughed. "Who are you talking to?", Walter mocked. "Her? Or me?"
"Both of you," the Major said softly. "It was never intended to happen like zis... but fair enough. It vill be a most interesting experiment. How sad my dear friend Avondale cannot see it anymore."
The two vampires laughed the Major into his figurative face. "Who is left to defeat us? Your cat boy? I'd want him to try."
Several meters above, the Major sat down in his chair and folded his legs and hands. "Ah, who knows."
Enrico took a step forward, but stopped again.
The cat boy. Right. What had been his name? Schrödinger? Like the physicist. Like the quantum physicist. Changing behavior depending on whether they were observed. Changing their state. Able to randomly change position, just appear somewhere.
Particles were a strange thing.
Objects or living things couldn't do that. It was impossible.
Or was it?
The nature of a vampire was to divide his being among the souls it devoured. What would happen if you combined both phenomena? It was mere science-fiction. A joke. Nothing like this could actually exist.
Just like the River of Death wasn't supposed to exist.
The Major smiled at him. "Ah, I see you figured it out. And ze young Lady Hellsing too. Wunderbar. Just in time for ze big climax."
Indeed Caitlyn had gone a few shades paler, giving her freckled face a grayish tone. "The crusaders," she murmured. "The London population, the Last Battalion, even Walter and Anderson and... all of them. For this."
The sun rose over the horizon, tainting the sky red and orange in a magnificent glow.
London, near St. Paul's cathedral, September 22nd, 5.30 am
"You lose," the Major repeated in a sing-song tone of voice.
Mira laughed. "I lose? You must be joking. I don't lose. I never will. There's no way a lot like you could beat me." The light blinded her and Mira broke off. Her eyes stung from the brightness, but she didn't close them. The light... was beautiful.
Crimson washed into orange and into faint yellow and white, not breaking off, just flowing. It sent soft, gentle fingers over the survivors in the midst of the ruins. In this light, one could almost think there was no evil in the world, no hurt, no pain. Just this beautiful, pure light.
What is this? What am I seeing? What...
But she knew.
"What is this?", Walter asked. He hated the sun so much. Yet now he, too, was frozen in its grasp, not a glare or harsh, hard hands, but soft and gentle. He was young. He didn't know.
"The sun always shone like this," Mira said softly. Her hand wrapped around his. "When I died."
"It's beautiful. I never knew... I forgot."
Mira smiled. "Yes. Me too."
Her form flickered and began to dissolve, myriads of eyes suddenly flowing into a stream around her. The same happened with Walter. How strange that it should end like this, a battle unfinished. Mira watched the sun. It cast its light over everyone equally, good or bad.
Their eyes began to close. Every one of them, one after the other.
Caitlyn stared at them, not the beautiful sunrise. "No," she whispered. "No." She broke into a sprint, crossing the debris. Her foot got caught and she stumbled on. She didn't feel the cuts she got on her ankle as she ripped free.
She crashed into Mira and Walter, falling to her knees. The vampires didn't even stumble.
"This is not supposed to happen!", Caitlyn snapped. "Mira! Walter! Stay with me! That's an order!"
"Out, out, brief candle. Life's but a walking shadow. A poor player zat struts and frets upon ze stage and zen is heard no more," the Major's voice echoed over the Deus Ex Machina's speakers. Caitlyn didn't listen to him.
"What's happening?!"
The Major sounded amused, as if he was explaining something very simple to a child for the umpteenth time. "Zey absorbed varrant officer Schrödinger's essence. He ist... a chesire cat, so to say. He is a self-observing phenomenon zat exists in a vorld vhere the probability of existence, vhere life itself ist equivocal. As long as he is aware of himself as a person, as an entity, he is everywhere and nowhere. But... vhat might happen now zat he ist dissolved into millions of consciousnesses? Even more zan zat! He ist devided into two individuals, both vith zeir own personal river of death. What happens now? He cannot perceive himself as himself anymore.
"He ist neither alive nor dead. Just a cluster of imaginary numbers."
The bodies of the vampires started to fade out, to become translucent.
"Don't you dare!", Caitlyn screamed at them. She wrapped her arms around their necks, pulling them into a tight hug. Their bodies were still there, ghostly and pale. She could smell blood, feel the texture of hair and skin, a three-dimensional human form. But the sensations started to fade away.
"Don't you dare disappear. You're my family. You're all I have."
"We're monsters," Mira said. "That's no family for a good girl like you."
"Don't start with that," Caitlyn spat through gritted teeth. Her eyes were burning. "You've always been my only family. Stop being such idiots."
"Yes, milady," Walter said, a tired smile in his voice. "Farewell."
"Farewell," Mira repeated.
Their voices were swept away by the wind and suddenly Caitlyn was hugging empty air. "No...", she whispered. "Don't go." Her arms dropped like stones, too heavy to lift again. She drew a shaking breath, her vision swimming, her throat hot and stuffy.
A red sigil shone softly on the stones, next to a black tie settling in the dust. Caitlyn grabbed the fabric before it could be swept away. The knot was still perfect, like it was proper for a real English butler. The black fabric was smooth and gleamed in the light of the new day. A soft breeze swept away the stink of fire and dust.
The tie crumpled in her fist. Caitlyn started to sob.
Airship "Deus Ex Machina", Command Center, September 22nd, 5.30 am
Clap. Clap. Clap.
"Very good show." Enrico tried to ignore the pain in pretty much every part of his body, some where he wouldn't have thought he could hurt. But it dulled the edge of sarcasm in his words. Clapping didn't work so well either. Every movement fueled the ache in his ribs. Maybe he was hurt worse than he thought.
Oh, damn it all to hell. Not that it made a difference anymore long-term.
The Major smiled. "So zis ist victory," he said, tasting every word on its own. "In mine ever-losing var, I vin for ze first time."
"You lived for this one day? This moment?" Enrico didn't dare to laugh considering his somewhat tender state. Should the Major pick it out from his tone. "That's pathetic."
The Major slowly shook his head, still assuming the air of a patient teacher. "You don't get it, dear archbishop. But zat does not matter. Few do. I've always known zat. But don't you agree it ist a good zing zat zese vampires are gone? Even Millennium vill be gone after zis night. Who knows, maybe ze Vatican can still achieve its goal... Good for you."
"Very considerate of you," Enrico said, now with a real edge to his words. Had he set the timer wrong? Too long? Or did it just not work? Something had to go wrong. That was one of the basic rules of life.
Then again, what should it be? The crusade had been destroyed, Iscariot severely decimated, his career was probably over, along with his life. Heinkel and Yumie were dead or dying, God knew if Lisa was alright. He could only hope the rest of his small family was safe. The woman he was in love with, against God's rules, probably hated him, despite her words.
There were few things that could still get worse.
He better didn't say that out loud, though. He just wanted to go home. That in itself was a cruel joke.
"Still, I'm somevhat dissatisfied," the Major continued. "No offense, but I really vanted the little Lady Hellsing to be ze vone to kill me. It's been so long since I talked to a young voman."
"What a surprise," Enrico said wryly. "My condolences."
The Major shook his head and stood up. "Wery vell. There's no point in pursuing a What-if. I always knew Alucard vould not defeat me. Rather I would defeat her. She was my archenemy, and now... I suppose it has to be you?"
"There's no one else around, I guess," Enrico said.
Nothing happened. "Don't you want to attack?", the Major asked with a frown. This whole business was taking away the joy of victory. It spoiled his great last words. The thought delighted Enrico.
"Would be rather pointless with this in the way." He stepped forward and knocked on the invisible barrier. Hardened and tektite-reinforced glass. The same as the Vatican used, for sure. You'd need some heavy ammunition to get through something like that. Or Anderson. He had neither.
"So you knew all along," the Major said, contemplative. "And you're not angry enough to take a shot either way."
"Oh I'm angry, don't be deceived. Put your great words where the sun doesn't shine. I don't care. Once this barrier goes up, you're dead and that's it."
"Ah, I see." The Major smiled and pressed a button on his armrest. An ancient, gleaming pistol was popped into his hand by a metal arm. He checked the bullets for show and folded his hands over it. "Zen ve vait, I suppose?"
In the failing systems of the ship, something tried to send an impulse to lift the barrier. The motors stuttered and strained.
Enrico took a step forward and laid one hand on the barrier. There was a silver-blue flash that might have been just a sparkle of light on glass. The motors roared and the glass wall slid upwards.
Enrico blinked at it. He was getting a headache. His eyes felt strange, as if he had been swimming and gotten chlorine into them or something. "Oh. Just on time. Great."
The Major stood up and directed the muzzle right at his head before he pulled the trigger. The bullet went wide, ricocheting off a steel beam and clinking to the floor. The Deus Ex Machina sagged, fire racing through its belly, and finally crashlanded right in front of Saint Paul's Cathedral, taking down several buildings with it.
Enrico barely managed to stay on his feet. The Major's hand didn't even waver significantly, however he managed that.
While the ship still quivered from the shock, he resumed at shooting. Enrico tried to shake off the pain and dizziness and stepped forward, trying not to flinch from the bullets. He would have liked a gun now. His aim was way better than this fat, ridiculous manic's. This could be over in just a second. But like this, he had to rely on his sword, which had to be good enough. The Major couldn't have that man bullets left.
A shadow appeared behind the Major like Brutus behind Cesar. Enrico breathed a relieved smile as he recognized the way of movement, the flowing coat – even the dagger. Thank God.
Then crimson swallowed his vision and pain devoured his mind.
Lisa brought the dagger down on the Major's head with all her strength. It dug into the ridiculous hairline, splitting it to both sides, and vanished down to the handle. Blood seeped out, but what was much stranger: It was answered with the sound of metal on metal.
The Major froze, and his finger convulsed around the trigger one last time. The gun barked with a flash of light and Enrico's head snapped around. He stumbled back and doubled over, one hand already grasping at his face in reflex. Thick red drops splashed to the ground, forming a puddle.
The Major collapsed in his chair with a surprised look on his face. The blade stuck out of his head like he was a stereotype victim to the Indians in a cowboy movie. There was a small trail of blood running over his forehead, then a whole section of the head came off, revealing wires, spindles, turning gears that slowly quit their tasks, one after the other.
"I hit something," he said softly. "Endlich."
Lisa didn't pay attention to him. She ran to her brother, just in time to keep him from falling. Her fingers dug into his shoulder and the pain seemed enough to keep him from passing out.
"Rico! God, are you alright? How bad is it?"
The first answer was an unintelligible mumble. Then he straightened up a bit. Blood had soaked his long blond hair on the left side. "Bastard," he growled, still dizzy.
"Let me see," Lisa demanded. He tried to push her hands away, but the movement was weak. Lisa carefully brushed the bloody hair aside and lifted his chin with her other hand.
She drew in a sharp breath.
From under the left eye a broad red gash ran over his temple upwards, missing the upper tip of the ear by a hair's breadth and ending just in the hairline. Dark blood was running over his face. A lot of blood.
"Can you... open your eye. Please." She tried to touch his cheek, but he flinched away with a hiss of pain. But he blinked, carefully, as if afraid, his pale, tired face set in a scowl. But he opened his eyes and they looked pretty much the same, if somewhat reddened. Lisa threw her arms around his neck. It was acquitted with a groan.
"You lucky bastard," she murmured. "The bullet just grazed you. We have to stop that bleeding, before -"
She felt Enrico's focus shift to the lifeless body of the Major. Lisa let go and turned around. The fat man had slumped in his chair, but his one remaining eye was focused on the siblings and there was a serene smile on his face. With a tiny clink another gear fell down from his open right side.
"He's- he's a machine," Lisa said. Somewhere in her head a child' voice repeated over and over: "That's impossible." After all that happened in this night that seemed ridiculous. Vampire Nazis, werewolves, the River of Death, people nobody thought survived and others died. What was one cyborg in all of this mess?
"Zat's not really polite, Miss Hamilton," the Major said, making them both flinch. His voice was quiet and sounded strangely tinny. "Let me tell you how vonderful it ist zat a young lady has found her vay here after all. I should haf been surprised to see you alone, Father Maxwell."
"Quit this bullshit," Enrico growled. His eyes wandered over the Major, the machinery falling apart. "So this is it. You're a monster yourself."
"Not at all, my faithful friends. I'm certifiably human. You see, ze one definition of being human is possessing his own vill. I'm not like vampires, who haf to take in ozer's blood to go on living. I'm not a pitiful creature like her. Even ze good Father Anderson – he was supposed to use ze Nail and be defeated as a mindless monster of God. Humans are being of soul, and mind, and vill. Even should I be a brain in a glass jar of culture fluid or memory circuits in a huge supercomputer... I'll still be human."
His remaining eye flickered, as if a light bulb was beginning to burn out. His gaze wavered over them both. "I'm not ze same as you. Zat's vhat you vill say, isn't it? Zat ist vhat var comes down to in ze end, and always will. You want to tell yourself ve are not ze same... does it make you feel better, Iscariot?" Lisa tightened her hand around her brother's but surprisingly, Enrico seemed almost calm.
"Of course we're not," he said, every word full of contempt.
A small laugh escaped the Major. "Of course. Tell yourself zat. I came here... to defeat ze vampire queen. No matter if she smiles as a young girl... or kneels in front of her master in ze guise of a veteran warrior... she's a monster. Zat is vhy I hate her." His voice jumped into shrill discord for a second. "She is a monster in the flesh of a human... And I am a human... looking like a monster."
"Die," Lisa hissed. She pulled out her remaining gun and shot him in the head. Her hand was shaking, but she hit him right between the eyes, the bullet digging into the flesh and steel, then into the dagger's blade. The Major's head was thrown back and blood seeped out of the hole.
"Die already!"
The Major smiled. "Ah... it vas... a good var." And then he lay still.
"It's not true," Lisa said, her voice trembling with adrenaline and rage and a vague grief. She put away the gun. "You're not like us. Being human is not simply will or biology. It's what you do. Your actions make you what you are. And you have stopped being human a long time ago."
There was a huff of scalding hot air and fire burst out on the remaining screen, shattering the glass.
"Let's go," Enrico said.
They didn't look back on the corpse as they ran along the hallways, avoiding the fire. Everywhere they went they were greeted by flame and smoke. The air was growing thicker by the second. Lisa coughed, only making it worse. Her eyes and lungs were burning.
Finally, there was a hatch. It fell out of its frame when they passed by and relatively clean air rushed in. It only fueled the fire behind them, pushing out another wave of heat with a deafening roar.
The airship had finally come down and it wouldn't take much longer until it burned to cinders and ash. The command center was still level with an average building's third floor, though.
Lisa froze when her feet reached the ledge. Since the beginning of the battle, she had forgotten about her most ridiculous and primal fear. They had climbed on a roof and then onto the zeppelin and she had been too occupied with her anger and worry to think of anything else. But her fear of heights was there and now it dug its claws into her muscles.
The fire roared behind them.
"Lisa?"
"I can't." Her voice was drowned out by the inferno. This was ridiculous. After all that happened she wouldn't die because of her stupid anxiety. No, you'll die from a deep, deep fall and the impact on the ground, splattering you all over this already -
"LISA!" Enrico shook her.
"That's got to hurt," she heard herself say. "You're injured-" A bible page fluttered past them. There were figures on the ground. Through a dark tunnel, Lisa realized they only seemed small in her field of vision.
"You trust me, right? I'd never let you get hurt."
She nodded. Enrico wrapped his arms around her and jumped.
Air rushed around them. Lisa wasn't sure if she screamed. She didn't have enough air for it. She heard a voice saying "God be with you". It sounded like Marco Renaldo. Golden light was all around them. The world spun. Then they didn't fall anymore.
Her feet touched the ground and the lock around her body eased a bit. Enrico coughed, suppressing a hiss of pain. Lisa opened her eyes. She hadn't even noticed closing them.
"What happened?", she got out.
Anderson looked more tired and beaten than she had ever seen him, even after fighting his way through to the vampire queen. He knelt on the ground, a weary solemnity on his face. Heinkel's head rested on his knees. She was bloody all over, even more than she had been before, and didn't move. Yumie, too, was smeared with drying red, most of it coming from her stomach. She leaned against Father Anderson's chest, blinking at the newcomers.
"She's still alive," Yumie said. "We won..."
Overhead, there was a roar of flame and sparks rained down. It didn't drown out the sound of rotors coming closer. The helicopter's choppers stirred up a cloud of dust as it came down, making their hair fly wildly.
"Ye're injured," Anderson said to Enrico. The archbishop only shrugged his shoulders.
The co-pilot threw open the side door. Anderson went first, carrying Heinkel. He cringed at something as he picked her up, but no one had the strength to ask why. Yumie went next, aided by the co-pilot. Enrico didn't recognize him and didn't really care. He let Lisa go first and looked back over the rubble before he went in. The sun was illuminating a scene of utter destruction.
Anderson sat, like always a bit too big for the bench, Heinkel's head resting in his lap. She still hadn't stirred. Yumie sat next to him staring at the ground blankly. Lisa fell down on the bench opposite of them.
"Where do we go, Sir?", the co-pilot asked.
"To the next catholic hospital... What about Germany?"
The man stared at him for a moment as if to ask if he was serious. There were Catholic hospitals in England that were a lot closer. But he didn't dare to ask.
"Yes, Sir."
The door of the helicopter slammed shut and they lifted off the ground.
Enrico sat down next to Lisa. She blinked at him. He laid an arm around her and she rested her head on his shoulder. A shiver ran through her body and Lisa began to cry. It was part grief, rage and a basic feeling of being overwhelmed, but also relief. It was over. It was finally over.
St. Paul's Cathedral, London, September 22nd, 6 am
Caitlyn barely raised her head when she heard the steps. Her fingers were once again clenched around Walter's tie and now blood was seeping into the fabric. Her nails had dug into her palms and her fingertips were torn from trying to get the stone out of the ground.
Why should she get away unscathed, after all?
"Lady Hellsing?", a voice with a soft Eastern accent said. It didn't remind her of Mira. Things like that only happened in bad movies. It was a deep, rough man's voice, with a different roll to the R and word endings.
"Yes," she said. Wind swept up her shaggy hair. She could hear helicopters and voices, but otherwise, it was silent. She looked up to see four men in the guise of Section 13, all of them unscathed and clean. The reinforcements? No, they were older than the other Iscariots, at least in their sixties. Probably the coordinators that were unfit for fighting after years of service.
"We are instructed to take you into custody," the first one, a man slightly under average height, his brown hair laced with gray, said. He was the one with the Eastern accent. Polish, maybe, Caitlyn didn't know a lot about the Eastern European states.
"I see," she said and lowered her gaze again. "Can you help me with this?" She made a vague gesture to the stone. For a few seconds, there was puzzled silence. "Please," she added.
"You won't flee?", another voice, an American, asked. He sounded unsure if he should be mistrustful or pity her.
"No."
"Lady Caitlyn!" Caitlyn raised her head to see Seras jump out of a jeep. She looked just as tired as everyone and was splattered with blood, but it didn't seem to be hers. On the passenger seat sat Pip Bernadotte. He didn't make a move to leave the car. To put it very euphemistic, he didn't look well.
The four Iscariots went for their guns. Caitlyn raised her hand. Seras stopped, her eyes jumping between her boss and the supposed enemies.
"It's alright," Caitlyn said. "They will take me into custody. We won't fight. Seras, please take care this gets somewhere safe." She indicated the stone and then held out the tie. Seras kept her eyes on the still holstered guns and stepped forward to take the strip of fabric.
"What happened?", she asked, looking around. "Where are-"
"You'll get the details later. Just... take this somewhere safe. And then help coordinate the... others. Irons and Walsh will surely send in help soon."
Seras shifted nervously on her feet. Lady Caitlyn didn't have the best relationship with the Round Table. But still... "Lady Hellsing, the... Round Table... they're dead. Their camp was attacked from the inside. And... the Queen... she's dead too. As far as we know, her personal assistant was a traitor."
Caitlyn blinked, slowly. "Oh. Henry?"
"Yes," Seras said in a tiny voice.
Caitlyn stood up and wavered. One of the Iscariots grabbed her arm to steady her. She murmured a thanks and looked at Seras. Caitlyn rarely looked anyone in the eyes if she didn't have to for being polite.
"I will go with Iscariot. No harm will come to me. You are in charge of all operations of Hellsing." Her voice was as flat as her gaze.
Seras swallowed and nodded. Talking back was not a good idea right now.
Caitlyn turned around. The Iscariots seemed surprised she surrendered without a fight, but of course didn't complain. Caitlyn stopped again after a few paces. "Get Pip to a hospital. I expect we have a wedding to plan once this is cleared up."
And with that she vanished, escorted by four paladins, and left Seras to figure out whatever came their way now. The young mercenary looked down at the bloody sigil on the stone and on the tie she knew well. Suddenly she didn't want to know what happened anymore. When everything had settled a bit, maybe. Not now.
She heard steps and looked up at Cillian and three more friends. "Help me get that stone." Overhead, the sound of helicopters came closer.
A helicopter over the English channel, September 22nd, 2016, 6.30 am
"We'll be in Düsseldorf in an hour and fifteen minutes," the co-pilot told them through the speaker system. "Archbishop... may we talk to you? There are news."
Enrico slowly raised his head. They had been flying for a while now. Through the windows he could see the bright morning sun reflecting off water, so they hadn't reached the continent yet. He had been dozing, or hoped he had. It didn't change the fact that he was exhausted.
Lisa stirred when he tried to stand up without waking her. She opened her eyes and they were tired, but clear. Her tears had dried up over time and given way to a restless slumber. Or so he had thought.
The question was followed by small movements of the other passengers. Everyone had pretended to sleep to not disturb the others and nothing had come out. Yumie had slid to the floor with her legs drawn against her chest, leaning against Anderson's tree-like leg. She looked even paler than before and just now Enrico remembered she had to be injured as well. She wasn't like Anderson. None of them was. Heinkel lay still and pale under the blood.
Sacrifices had to be made, everyone would say.
Hell, he was done making them, so God help him. After this, sacrifice was just another word for blind stupidity.
Anderson looked after his former student and then lowered his head again. He could hear this and that, fragments of a conversation... Enrico froze, as if something had surprised him. After this night, it was a surprise anything could still shock them.
"...yes, a traitor in the inner circle... could be evacuated... no, he didn't make it... we don't know... new orders..."
Yumie raised her head, and looked over to the door to the cockpit. They had all heard it. Maybe they had forgotten the helicopter still broadcast into their radios, if only partially.
The Pope was dead. Killed by a traitor in the inner circles before the Swiss Guard could stop him. The Catholic Church was without its leader.
The good news were that also the English Queen was dead. Millennium had been utterly thorough. Britain and the Vatican stood at match point now, both in chaos, both without a leader, both deeply shaken.
Anderson's gaze wandered downwards again and was met. He froze. Heinkel blinked at him, slowly. Her eyes were a sparkling violet, the color of ripe lilac flowers, but glowing from the inside. It was the color of the regenerator serum.
Her lids fell shut again. Nothing else had changed and nobody had seen it.
Ah'm starting tae get hallucinations.
A gust of icy autumn wind rushed over them, accompanied by the smell of salt and water. Enrico stood at the open door and stared at the sunrise reflecting off the water. The wind ripped at his hair and clothes. The red and golden sash flapped in the wind, spattered with blood. Anderson hadn't bothered to notice, but he had been wearing it all along under the coat.
Lisa seemed unsure if she should – and could – stand up. "Rico?", she called. "Enrico, what are you doing?" He didn't answer or turn around. Over the wind he couldn't possibly have heard her. Lisa wanted to jump to her feet, but wavered and fell back.
"Enrico?" An edge of panic crept into her voice.
Enrico took a step forward until he had to hold on to the frame to keep his balance. The sun had lost her warm red and orange colors, turning into the cold golden whiteness of an autumn day. He took off the sash, the elegant fabric with its embroideries scraping over his skin. It flapped in the roaring wind, wanting to escape.
He let go. The sash, the symbol of his life and all his efforts, fluttered away, swirling over the English Channel until it disappeared from sight, just another strange bird in the sky. He stepped back and closed the door before he sat down. For a moment he stared into nothingness, then he sagged, covering his face with his hands. Lisa laid her arms around him. Nobody spoke. The water gave way to dry land.
"Father Anderson?", Yumie said after a while. Her voice was that of a tired little girl.
"Aye?"
"Can you finish the story about the kelpie, please?"
Anderson stared at her for a moment, until the gears clicked into place. Not just what had happened in Scotland, even the telling of the story seemed like a lifetime ago.
"I'm sure Heinkel would like to hear the rest, too," Yumie added, running her fingers through the clotted and dust-covered ashen strands of her partner.
"O' course," Anderson said, unable to contradict that logic. "Where were we?"
"You found the girl caught with the kelpie... she was glued to it or something," Yumie responded.
"Ah." So, Anderson began to tell of a time long gone, where the monsters were easy to determine, and there was little more than black and white, good and bad. A time made better by the pink veil of nostalgia.
The helicopter roared on as a new day began and nothing was the same anymore.
Wow. I can't believe it's done.
Well, not actually done done. I'm still out for an epilogue, but no promises.
Also, if anyone is interested, I have planned out this AU way past the Battle, but never have (and probably won't as I'm already planning on two new big projects) actually made a real story of it. I might give a summary if anyone asks for it. (More in the epilogue that is hopefully to come...
Either way, thanks to all my readers and reviewers, all those who encouraged me and followed the crew to this point. You're awesome.