One of the hardest things to do in a position like this is to make friends. There's the obvious aspect of everyone dying, but more than that, there are so few people that you can relate to. When you do find friends, it's almost always the most unlikely of people in the most unlikely of places. And it almost always ends with their deaths being swift, brutal, and terrible. In a way, knowing that pattern is kind of liberating; it encourages you to spill all of your secrets before it's too late.

-excerpt from the Vampire Journals

Chapter 3: Unlikely Allies

Fortunately for Alucard, no one seemed to realize exactly who had broken the mirror, which was just as well, because he hadn't planned on paying for it anyway. When he returned to his seat, Seras was humming that stupid tune she had heard, which might have been annoying, except that he found most of the music that got big these days annoying, so he at least understood that his choices were limited.

One of the things that he didn't hate so much as he was disappointed in was EDM. At his first listen, Alucard had thought of it as a kind of new-age classical, played entirely synthetically. He wasn't quite into it, but appreciated it, all the way up until someone had randomly screamed, "Watermel-O-n!", and ruined the flow.

He was shaken from his thoughts by the flight attendant asking if he wanted an in-flight meal.

"No thanks", he told her, stealing a glance at Police Girl, "I've got myself a snacc right here."

The flight attendant gave him a weird look and moved on to the next row without covering Seras.

Alucard began to notice that he was feeling tired. He wasn't surprised. He had been up for almost a week straight, and coupled with the emotional outburst he had just had... he needed his rest.

He hated trying to get it on an airplane, but if that was where it needed to happen, then he would make it happen.

He tapped Seras on the shoulder. She looked over at him, curious.

"Wake me, when you need me", he said, in a classical space-opera voice.

He slumped straight over and went to sleep, leaving Seras rather confused.

He slept fitfully, as he usually did outside of the coffin.

...

"Vampire King."

"You know I don't like it when you call me that", he said, as he pushed the old man along in his wheelchair.

"It was a title you held, not so long ago in your lifespan."

"I left that I life behind", he told the old man.

The old man smoothed out the plaid blanket that covered his legs, and sighed.

"I wish my son were here."

"What, am I not the company you wanted to keep?"

Abraham Van Helsing turned around in his wheelchair to look at Alucard.

"You are mien friend", Abraham told him. "Of course I would wish to keep your company."

He still reverted to Dutch when he was trying to make a point. But whenever he was trying to make a point, he meant it. Alucard allowed a small grin.

"Yeah, I wish Gabriel were here too", Alucard admitted. "Your wheelchair is damn heavy. It's hard to maneuver... and here come the stairs. An extra set of hands would be splendid."

"I meant that he deserves this honor as much as I do."

"He has more than proved himself", he said before the old man could, since he said it so often.

And usually, when Alucard interrupted someone to make a point, he meant it, too. The old man allowed himself a gentle smile.

"So, we know the plan if this really does turn out to be a trap?"

The old man patted the blanket.

"Of course we do. We have been over it so many times that I'm afraid I'll say it in my sleep... if this party lasts that long."

"It won't."

"You're so certain?"

When he was certain of something, it was cause for concern. He had instincts like no man did; like a wild animal. He knew danger. Could practically smell it. The old man didn't take his caution lightly.

Alucard nodded.

"And... there's the stairs", Alucard said, as he did his best to angle the chair so that Abraham came down easy.

Abraham grunted a few times as he came down hard on his still-tender legs, but he gritted his teeth and suffered through. He had recently had a fall, and at the ripe old age of ninety, he was in no position to be hurting himself any worse. But getting Alucard to push him around everywhere was not what his doctor should have recommended.

After the stairs, however, they were finally at the front entrance of the mansion. The invitation, in the form of a letter, had called for every major vampire hunter in Europe to a grand feast in their honor. At the very least, there would be lots of people here, as attested to by the cars. But Alucard smelled danger, so they had come up with a plan.

No one would dare to attack every big-name vampire hunter in Europe head-on; that would be suicidal. What would more than likely happen was that their host would try and pick them off one by one. In that case, Abraham would stick with people, and Alucard would fake his death. Once everyone had been convinced that he was dead, he would go on the offensive, turning the game on its head.

It was a solid plan. One that had worked in the past. Alucard grinned. They were a great team. And great friends. They had been faithful to one another for the better part of nearly sixty years. Alucard was the Godfather to Abraham's child, Gabriel, and would provide guidance for the already well-respected and accomplished twenty-year-old in the case of Abraham's passing.

Speaking of Gabriel, with his great manners, why was no one there to greet them at the door?

Suddenly, all of his senses screamed danger. Alucard flung himself in front of the wheelchair, and kicked it back, hopefully rolling it out of harm's way.

The front door burst open, and a mounted machinegun opened fire on the two. Abraham flung his blanket off to reveal the revolver he had secreted there in case of emergencies. He aimed and fired it from a sitting position like he was thirty again, as Alucard was shredded by machinegun fire.

Alucard fell to the ground, blood pouring out of him like a river, filling the cracks in the cobblestone.

"Alucard", Abraham yelled, and threw himself out of his chair, crawling towards his friend.

Apparently, his rounds had struck home, because the machinegun stopped firing, but it didn't matter. Before he could get more than five feet from his friend, five of the unholy creatures charged from the opening, and swarmed him, dragging him into the mansion.

"NO", Alucard said in a furious voice that he had never heard him use.

Vampires swarmed the front door, trying to stem the tidal wave of power that cut bloody swaths through them, but every second they bought was a second the five needed. They threw Abraham onto a bed covered in garlic and roses, and drove a wooden stake through his heart.

The scream of pure unbridled rage was from not a man, but from some hell-born creature of death. The sword that cut through them was wielded by another's hand, and it devastated as if it had been made to do only such. It was Abraham's last image of the only man he could truly have called his friend.

...

Alucard was awakened by Seras shaking him.

"Master", she whispered, "the plane is about to land!"

Pip looked like he hadn't gotten any sleep the entire time, which was just as well for Alucard. They would all be doing a round of sleeping in the hotel as soon as they were all settled anyhow. That would be their first course of action, as dictated in the field manual, which he had helped to write. Believe it or not, Alucard actually did have rules that he not only followed religiously, but also benefited others.

When the plane had finally decided to land, all of the Mercs had quickly gotten their bags, and were getting off the plane with the rest of the crowd. Next was customs, and hopefully after that, the great outdoors. Hopefully. Alucard was beginning to get skeptical of the good luck they had been having. He knew it wouldn't last.

Going straight into customs, all of the Mercs had their fake ID's and backstories down. They had all worked them out independently of one another, because, for the sake of plausible deniability, they were not a group. It's why they had spread out in the crowd.

The only ones who would be together were him and Seras. They had not rehearsed their lines at all. Alucard thought that it was going to be fun, and that it might be a sign of things to come.

The Mercs fed the customs counter dwellers their bullshit, and made it through without a hitch. Seras was about to approach the table, when Alucard subtly tapped her, holding her back. Like the dunce he was, the guy at the counter didn't even notice.

The two walked up to the counter, shoulder to shoulder, and finally the idiot decided to look up. He noted Alucard's pale complexion and eyewear, and nothing else. So easily fooled. This was too easy.

Or, at least, it would be, if Seras was even remotely okay at improvising.

"Passports, please", the man behind the counter said, "and please remove your glasses."

Alucard passed over the passports, and took off his red-tinted wraparounds. The man examined the passports, and looked back up at the two. Apparently, he was satisfied with Seras, but he scrunched up his face at Alucard.

"Sir, please remove your contacts", the man told him.

Alucard bowed forward, placing his fingers over his eyes, pretending to remove his "contacts", when in fact all he did was dim his red eyes. When he looked back up at the man, the red tinge was gone, and his brown eyes shone forth.

Seras stared in awe. She had never seen his actual eyes before. She thought that staring into them was like staring into eternity. She had never seen eyes so soft and brown before, yet so steeled and determined.

The man behind the counter nodded, and Alucard bent down again, returning red to his eyes. When he straightened back up, the menacing eyes he hid behind his glasses had returned. She thought they didn't make him look as deep as his other eyes had. She wanted his other eyes back in his head.

"Anything to claim", the man asked.

"I can beat Halo 2 on Legendary with zero deaths."

The man behind the counter glanced up at him with an inquisitive look on his face.

"Any fruits, vegetables?"

"No, I can't beat food on Legendary. Not quite there yet."

"Do you have any items on your person that you would like to claim? That maybe the dogs might sniff?"

"You have dogs? I'm allergic. Don't get them near me."

Which was entirely untrue, but was easier than saying, I was tortured for five years straight with starving dogs chained up next to me, barking and howling and snapping at me, keeping me awake every night, causing me a lot of grief in the current day. Plus, dogs tend to bark uncontrollably around me anyway, because they smell death on me. And my natural reaction to hearing a dog bark is to wildly shoot in its direction.

The man looked at Alucard for a moment, then spoke into his radio on the counter, saying, "Got a guy who's allergic to dogs coming through."

Alucard didn't allow himself to look relieved.

"Last time, sir", the man behind the counter said, beginning to look pissed, "do you have anything at all to claim?"

"Blatant lie wise, or item wise?"

"Item wise."

"Then no."

The man scratched something down onto paper, and then typed something into his computer terminal.

"And how about you, miss?"

"No", Seras replied gleefully, "nothing to claim from me."

The man continued typing away at his terminal. Alucard half wanted to do something funny to break the silence, but he couldn't really think of anything that would be mutually beneficial to anyone. So he sat quietly, and waited.

Even though patience was something he didn't have the patience for, Alucard knew when to bide his time. He had learned that well in the fifteenth century. And for nearly three centuries after that, he learned, through trial and error, the importance of not ramming your head into a brick wall over and over again. He believed that that had recently been redefined as "insanity". Not that he had felt particularly sane during those times anyway.

"And are you two here for business", the guy behind the counter asked, glancing up at them, "or pleasure?"

"Pleasure", Alucard told him. "It's a vacation for the two newly engaged lovers."

Seras was at least able to hide her shock for the most part, but before he could even so much as tap her, she leaned into him, saying, "Yep. Lovers."

She even put an arm around him. She was doing her absolute best. Alucard couldn't suppress a broad grin. He would make this work. He would turn this clutzy, "I don't want to be a vampire" lookin' Britfag Big Titty Police Girl-ass into the best damn apprentice he had ever had.

The customs guy tapped on his terminal a little more, and then handed their passports back. Alucard accepted them without a second thought.

"Welcome to America", the customs officer said.

As soon as they were past the booth, Seras let go of Alucard, though, he felt, more out of embarrassment than disgust, which was a nice change in pace from the past few days.

Meeting back up with everyone out in the lobby, Pip went to work right away getting a rental car. Alucard passed him the Platinum card.

"If that comes back smelling like onions and horse meat", Alucard said, "I will put a hole in your head the size of your head."

Fortunately, it did not come back smelling terrible, so Pip survived... for now. For the next hour, they had nothing to do but stand around and wait for their car to be made ready. Alucard looked around, watching the people in the lobby. Most of them were doing nothing at all, walking straight from the planes to their cars waiting outside. Others were waiting in the lobby, clearly for other people. Alucard watched a touching meeting between a young girl, and who appeared to be her lover. They ran to each other and embraced, he picking her up and spinning her around, her knocking off his Army-issued hat and locking lips with him.

Alucard looked away. He felt like he was watching something he wasn't meant to see. His only reception that had been any similar had been when he had returned to Wallachia's capital, and had been showered in whatever the people could throw to him. For some it was flowers, for others it was loaves of bread. But there had been no one there to rush out of the crowd and embrace him. At the time, it hadn't hurt. In fact, at that point in time, that was how he had wanted it. But now...

The closest he had ever come to something like that...

His reverie was broken by a large Italian family loudly screaming in Italian. They were embracing a member of the family who had obviously just come over from across the ocean. And, like most Italians, they were being as loud as possible about it. In fact, it was kind of comical.

Or at least, it was, until he looked back up the stairs, and saw a Catholic priest walking down them. He wasn't any ordinary priest, though; he wore white gloves with some chicken-scratch on them, a big, red scar across his cheek, and a blazing fire in his green eyes. And it turned into a forest fire when they caught sight of the man in red.

"ALUCARD!"

"ANDERSON", Alucard called back to him, as he watched him charge down the stairs, reaching into his coat. Alucard calmly walked towards him, reaching into his own coat.

"Why does it seem-"

"-like I just can't get rid of you?!"

"You follow me around-"

"-like a plague!"

"You and your heathenous-"

"-damned papal pedophiles-"

"-horrid abomination-"

"-good for nothing alterboy!"

Before anyone could stop them, two bayonets were against Alucard's cold skin, one at his gut, one at his throat, and two guns were muzzled straight up against Alexander, one charged straight into his gut, and the other underneath his chin. They stood, staring at each other, saliva dripping from their bared teeth, hatred roaring in their eyes. The rosary on Alexander's neck clinked as it lazily tried to find a stable position after such hasty movements. Neither party moved. If someone had walked in right then, they might have mistaken it for a modern art statue, signifying some great struggle or other.

Pip had tried to get a cigarette ready for when they could go outside, and now it fell to the floor, far from his wide-open mouth. The American Mercs looked on with mouths agape, unable to do anything remotely close to interfering. Seras had tears brimming in her eyes; so many emotions were flowing through her. Worry for her master, hatred for Anderson, horror that they were really going to do this in the middle of a crowded lobby, and that this time, she didn't have a good distraction planned up to separate the two.

Everyone around them looked on in horrid silence, no one daring to break the incredibly tense situation and make it any worse than it was.

Alucard wasn't sure who the laughter had started bubbling from first. Perhaps it had begun surfacing from them both at the same time. But either way, the weapons started coming down, and the laughter started coming forth. Anderson threw his head back, bellowing laughter, and Alucard was doubled over, laughing his guts out.

Eventually, Alucard slapped Anderson on the shoulder with one of his massive .454's, and said, "We-hehehe-we can't keep this-hoohoohoo-charade going any-haha-longer!"

"No, I-haha-suppose we-hehehe-bloody well can't!"

The two disregarded their weapons for a brotastic embrace, one filled with laughter, and happiness. When they pulled apart from one another, they were still laughing.

"It's all right", Alucard called out to the crowd, "all fake! Just a thing we like to do!"

"True! These keychain ornaments are duller than Thatcher", Alexander chimed in, "and those guns are faker than all of Hollywood!"

"Indeed, indeed", Alucard said, still laughing.

Nevertheless, two airport security, armed with rifles and body armor, pushed through the crowd towards them.

"Excuse me, sir", one of the guards said, standing in front of Alexander's escape, "you and your friend are going to have to come with us."

"I don't think so", Anderson explained to them. "See, I'm here on official Vatican business, which means it would be a swell idea for you to mind your own business."

The two guards took the hint and left. No one fucked with the Vatican. Not even TSA.

"Whoo", Alucard said, replacing his guns to his coat as Alexander's bayonets retracted into his arm holsters. "Nice little 'get out of jail free' card ya got there."

"Thanks", Alexander said with a lopsided grin, "I made it myself."

"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS GOING ON HERE?!"

Seras had apparently regained the ability to speak. Alucard chuckled, wrapping an arm around Alexander's broad shoulders.

"Well, you see, Apprentice", Alucard explained, "me and Anderson got to talkin' after our first encounter, and then we really got to talkin' after you stopped us the second time. Turns out, we have a lot in common!"

"Like bloody what?!"

"Well, for instance", Alexander took over, "we both really hate secret societies!"

"Kinda strange considering we both work for secret societies, I know", Alucard added.

"Well, as secret as we make 'em, anywho- ow", Alexander shot Alucard a glance as he pinched him.

Apparently, Alucard wasn't ready to have this talk with his apprentice yet. Alexander made a mental note of that.

Seras was shaking her head, pulling on her hair with her hands.

"I'm sorry, this is just all really hard to get straight", Seras admitted. "Last time the two of you were together, you practically hated each other! Tried to kill one another if I remember correctly!"

"What", Alexander said, producing a frown and even scrunching up his ace, "you thought I was gonna be angry? Thought I was gonna shoot myself up with heroine and beat the shit out of ol' boy here? Fookin' racist."

"Yeah, ya racist", Alucard condescended.

"I'm confused", Pip said as well. "Who's mad at who?"

"Well, excuse me if I'm inclined to believe that patterns exist", Seras said in frustration. "Does this mean you won't be killin' each other no more?"

"Oh, no", Anderson said with a chuckle and a wave of the hand, as if it were obvious. "Quite the opposite, in fact; we're gonna be tryin' even harder to kill one another, now that we're united in the common goal of wanting to end the other's life!"

"What the bloody hell", Seras practically screamed in a high-pitched, incredibly exacerbated voice.

"However", Alucard informed her, "America is a neutral zone between Protestants and Catholics. At least, the trained ones. So, while we're here, no, we won't be killing each other."

"Ah, speakin' of getting' killed", Anderson said, looking at his Vatican-issued Gucci pocket watch, "my driver should be here any moment! Catch ya later, ya monstrous heathen! Toodaloo!"

"You too, you Catholic sociopath! Toodles!"

Alexander walked away calmly, out into the offloading section, where a car had just jumped the sidewalk. He opened the door, and casually got into the passenger's seat. As soon as the door shut, the car's tires shrieked, and it shot off to who knew where.

"I'm still confused", Pip admitted.

"If we're not in America", Seras told Pip quietly, "shoot that bastard!"

At least she was catching on. Pip nodded. The rest of the Mercs gave similar nods. Apparently, Pip was speaking for the whole group. That kind of subtle group communication usually took years of training alongside each other to achieve. Alucard was beginning to understand... no, not understand, but at least respect... why Integra had selected his firm at all. She could've just said, "Fuck it! Alucard stays home full time", but instead, she had seen something in these Mercs that Alucard apparently hadn't.

She wasn't entirely correct, however.

"No one touches Anderson", Alucard corrected. "He's mine."

Seras looked questioningly at her master, as did the rest of the Mercs. Alucard was going to have to answer questions he really didn't want to. He sighed, and prepared to tell them all of his dark little secrets.

Right then, Pip's phone chimed, and he pulled it out, quickly glancing at it.

"Our car's ready", Pip said.

Alucard's grin widened. Saved by the bell.

"Shotgun", he called, dashing away towards the rental place.

The Mercs, Seras included, groaned, and followed.