Pootis McTootis was sat in his Laz-E-Ass chair, playing Custer's Revenge on the brand new XBox 720, continually being annihilated, because he sucked at video games. The zero-point-eight-year-old took his controller, and yeeted that sonofabitch out the nearest window, a look of complete serenity on his face the entire time. He sat quietly in his chair, looking at the floor, as sad music played nearby.

Suddenly, through the power of friendship, he sensed the eyes of the audience upon him, and looked up, a small smile growing across his face.

"Oh, hello", he said to the audience. "I didn't see you there! It's probably because I don't have my monocle on."

He proceeded to pat himself down, looking for his monocle, only to remember that he keistered it whenever he gamed to keep himself on his toes. He removed it from the old prison wallet, and placed it over his eye. For a moment, he still looked blind, and the world looked brown, but a quick swipe of the handkerchief fixed that. Happy once again, he turned to address the audience.

"Hello, again", he said joyously. "As you know-"

His monocle picked this time to fall off his face again.

"Motherfucker", he said disheartenedly. "I just need to gorilla glue that sucker to my face, I guess."

He returned the monocle to his face, and returned his gaze to the audience.

"Alright, now then", he said, clearing his throat. "As you know, I recently said some very upsetting things about losing a follower. Now, I'm still salty about that shit, mostly because they fucked off without telling me why they were unhappy, which is the number one cause of wars. The number two cause, as you all well know, is ignoring the critiques of others, and the number three cause is, of course, fighting over which member of BTS is most fuckable in a Trap sense."

He reached over to his small coffee table, and retrieved his opium hookah, drawing a long trail of smoke into his lungs, and releasing it with the same general sound that a puffer fish would make if you fed them a carrot. He returned his attention to the audience, continuing.

"However, I am happy to report that since then, I have gained not only another follower, but also a multitude of comments concerning things that people find right, wrong, and generally confusing in my content. And frankly, I'm quite glad for it. Thank you all so much for your continued support, despite my-"

The sound of a dog barking outside drew his attention. After a moment, a gunshot sounded. Then, silence.

"Must be the ATF", he concluded. He cleared his throat, ending with, "-self."

He reached over to his coffee table again, and produced a small book, pulling it closer to him. He squinted hard, but couldn't make anything out on it. After a moment, he pulled his spectacles out of his pocket, and set them up over his monocle.

"Ah, yes. Some of the comments that I have been getting. I generally address my responses directly to the commenter, but a few in particular keep coming up, and one really caught my eye, that I would like to expand on in a broader sense."

He glanced down at the book, and then said, "One of them that I have received more than once is about Alley, Alucard's 'daughter'. Her story, I intend to unravel rather slowly, so I won't get into the questions themselves, or give broad answers to them as of yet; just know that, for now, answers will be sparse, but if you stick with me, they will appear. I know, I know, you're thinking, 'But Pootis McTootis, that's just a stupid gimmick done by stupid authors to keep an audience coming when they feel like they can't write content that's good enough to hold an audience's attention on its own.' Well, uh, yeah, that's like the whole point. Good things come to those who wait and all that shit. Don't worry, you'll get your answers... and then some."

"I will leave you with this, though... at least one person was rather disappointed that Alley was a "surrogate", instead of a blood-related daughter. That may have seemed like a cop-out move, but to me, it was the only logical move. See, Alucard and Alley's relationship doesn't revolve around who they are to each other; rather, it's what they do for each other that's important. Alley feeds Alucard information, sure, but what does Alucard give her in return? Clearly, something good enough to be considered a father figure. That, I think, is what's important about the two of them. Plus, Alucard is based off of a real man, who really didn't have any children. The choice for me, therefore, was logical. Sorry if that's not the answer you wanted."

He reached over to the table again, and produced a needle full of black tar heroin. He pulled a belt over his arm, smacked his wrist a few times, and injected it directly into the vein, whilst reading from the book. He glanced back up, and then back down, and then his eyes went two different directions.

"Ooh, here's a comment that I really liked, from Morality is a Spook, a guy who very regularly gives me good constructive feedback regarding the situations I put the characters in. He says, 'Why would Alucard help the Krauts, since they are largely an inspiration for his more demonic nature spread in Europe'. An excellent question, Mr. Spook, and to him, I already gave an answer, but it's something that really fascinates me, so I guess I'll tell everyone else, too."

"The more demonic side of Germany isn't entirely present in warfare until WWII, and while, during WWII, the Nazi's did tons of shit to deserve being construed as 'demonic vermin', the Germans of WWI most certainly did not. In fact, in my opinion, they were the victims of the Great War, lashing out entirely in self-defense."

"You see, if you look at the war from Germany's perspective, they're only there at all to aide their smaller and far more inferior ally, the Austro-Hungarian empire, in their fight against Serbia and Russia. Now, Germany is in a rather tight spot, because they have Russia to contend with, which is already a losing fight in the making, on one side, and on the other, they have the French army, which is the French Army, but the Germans are boxed in nonetheless. What are they gonna do, huh? They strike first, because they've got more bad guys that are a hell of a lot bigger than them to deal with, and they've got to deal with them ASAP."

"'But they invented all of these ridiculously powerful and cruel weapons', you say. Sure they did; they're fighting a war on two fronts, and in the interest of ending it quickly, they do everything in their power to develop weapons that the enemy doesn't want to fight. 'But they invaded a neutral country', you say. Sure, they invaded a neutral country to get to France, but not without fair warning and certainly not with the intent to level the country."

"'But they committed all of these war crimes', you say. Ah, but there's where you, as Alucard says, need to stop listening to the Lame Stream Media. Tales of Germans crucifying soldiers, raping nuns, and boiling down bodies to make gun oil, it was all just propaganda. None of it actually happened. Sure, there was rape, like in every war ever fought, but it was sparse, it wasn't encouraged, and it was punished severely by German command. And by the end of the first year, Germany is fighting a defensive war to buy her allies time, using itself as a giant plug to stop reinforcements from getting to any other fronts. It's quite noble, I think. You know what else I think? Alucard's had his share of Fake News spread about him, a lot of which is common knowledge that is treated as fact. Frankly, I think the WWI era Germans are Alucard's people."

"In fact, my plan was to, after this was over, make a little Prequel to this, where Alucard and Abraham's son fight in various different countries on various different fronts to stop a worldwide conspiracy to raise a vampire army to take over the world, starting in the Caucasus mountains, and ending in England. If you're interested, let me know."

"Oh, here's another one, from UwU_Kitty_69, it says, 'Pootis McTootis, I really need a boyfriend! I wish you would see my pics! Come see me here-' Wait a minute! That's just an E-Thot! Never mind."

"Actually, on that note, can I get some fanart of Schrodinger giving a curtsey? Asking for a friend."

Pootis McTootis stopped for a moment, and carefully removed his spectacles, tossing the book over his shoulder. He reached his free hand over to the coffee table again, and put his hand in a jar of CBD oil. His fingers returned to him, rubbing the oil on his lips, using it like Chapstick. He smacked his lips a few times, making sure his lips felt nice and wet. Then he reached back into his pocket, and retrieved an asthma inhaler, pushing the tip into his open lips, and slamming down on the top. He inhaled deeply, smashing his hand onto the coffee table the whole time. Then he removed the inhaler, and exhaled strongly.

"Oh, man, that's good shit", he said, slapping the table one more time. He tossed the inhaler away, and returned his attention to the audience. "Now, about that short story I alluded to. It was something I had floating around in my head, and I jotted it down quickly, because I thought it was hilarious, but I couldn't find a good place for it in the story as a whole. It's rough, it's crude, its completely unrefined, and it's definitely still in the 'rough draft' stage of its life, but here you go. God help you, I'm so sorry about this. Without further ado, let me introduce you to..."

The Mole People

"This isn't going to work", Alucard told Anderson.

"Why didn't ya say so before", the burly Scot replied.

"I did say so before", Alucard informed him, as he checked to make sure his .454's were loaded.

"I'm not worried", Anderson responded, holding up a small white card with a picture and some writing. The picture was of Anderson's face, twisted up into an insane grin. "I just printed out a fake ID; now my name's Alex!"

That did nothing to alleviate Alucard's worries.

"Isn't your name already Alex?"

"No, ya nitwit", Anderson told him, "It's Alexander! Completely different!"

"... If you say so", Alucard begrudgingly relented.

"Excellent", Anderson practically shouted with glee. "Then let's go rob a school!"

"There's got to be something on the headmaster there", Alucard added. "No one's smart enough to cover their tracks completely... especially when it involves so many missing children that have been... swept under the rug, so to speak."

"His house had nothing", Anderson said with a scowl, "and his phone records only showed calls to other teachers. Almost all of them during school hours, or right after. This guy's good. I wouldn't put all of our stock in this bust."

"There will be plenty of 'busting' when I get back home, though", Alucard grinned devilishly.

"See, now I'm starting to understand why the Church hates yer guts so much", Anderson told him.

"And yourself", Alucard asked out of curiosity.

"Ah, I hated you from the very beginning", Anderson told him, "but I understand ya. And that makes me like ya, somewhat, despite the fact that I hate ya, even though I kinda like ya, though I still hate ya."

"... So..."

"Just know that you're ok in my book."

"Ah."

"I'd still shank ya in an alleyway."

"I see."

"But only 'cause I love ya."

"Right. Let's go."

The two of them walked in slow-motion towards the school, with explosions going off behind them, tanks firing their cannons, and bald eagles screeching overhead.

The two of them tried to hold the door open for one another, but they wound up getting into a fistfight over who was more gentlemanly.

The two of them finally decided that they were both dickheads, and decided to walk through the door at the same time. But they ended up getting stuck. So they got into another fistfight, in close quarters, over who was fatter. Their fighting caused them to fall indoors.

They both stood up, brushing themselves off, and walked into the intake office like nothing had happened. The two ladies at the desk stared at them with mouths agape. Anderson approached them first, a suave gait about him.

"Hallo, ladies", Anderson said, with a grin that looked far more insane than he had meant it to be. "I'd like ta go teach some children the importance of a healthy countenance through anger management!"

He pushed his ID across the countertop. The ladies continued to stare with their mouths agape.

"If ya need anything else, mah phone number's on there! Toodaloo!"

Anderson walked off, opening the door which was supposed to have been locked, that lead into the school with ease. Alucard followed closely behind, and hypnotized both ladies into believing they hadn't seen either of the two men. Then he followed Anderson.

The two of them stumbled their way through the school, trying to find the headmaster's room. The two of them kept shushing each other whenever they made excessive noise, and then began bickering about shushing each other, which then caused them to shush each other more, which then resulted in more bickering.

They came across a bathroom, one side servicing male students, and the other side servicing female students. A man with a hefty mustache was trying to sneak into the girl's bathroom. Anderson put a hand on the man's shoulder, and he jumped, turning around with a fearful expression adorning his face.

"Mind explainin' yer actions for me, good sir", Anderson said with barely masked rage in his voice.

"I... well, I", the man stuttered. A defeated expression grew across his face, and he said, softly, "Please don't call me insane, sir. This school has an infestation of mole people. I have been trying to find their nest for the past week, and the only place I have left to check is this bathroom."

Alucard and Anderson shared a glance. Either this man was completely insane, or this job just became a whole lot more complicated. A quick glance at the door, and Alucard could see that the bathroom in question was cordoned off. So, some indirect evidence to support his theory.

"These mole people", Alucard asked, "what did they look like?"

"Well", the man began, "they don't really look like 'moles' per se, but when I approached a colleague about it in private, that's what she called them-"

"When", Alucard asked, with sudden urgency.

"Well, about a week ago I shared-"

"WHEN DID WE ASK", Anderson and Alucard said in unison.

"Oh, uh, sorry. The mole people look like... well, imagine if you took a man, gave him a hunched, almost four-legged appearance, made them twenty shades paler than pale, made boney protrusions come out of their spines, and replaced their faces with a wide mouth full of sharp teeth. I observed one with a child's bloody shoe in its mouth."

Alucard and Anderson exchanged another glance. The man's description perfectly fit a Goblin, the more diminutive strand of Nephilimic DNA. Goblinism affected roughly zero-point-five percent of the world's population in very small ways, and with proper gene therapy, or rigorous sacrifice, or both, they could be cultivated into the abominations that the man was currently describing.

"It's not for me", the man declared, "but I fear for my children. One of the young girls in my class went missing, you see, and... and that shoe..."

He didn't need to finish his sentence. Anderson placed a hand on the man's shoulder.

"Go on back ta teachin'", Anderson advised him. "This kind of work is a bit outta yer league."

The man snapped up, with a startled expression adorning him.

"Do you mean that – what I saw... I'm not insane?! And that... that you two can help?!"

"Your children are lucky to have such a brave man as their teacher", Alucard told him. "I hope you learn to cultivate this courage."

Anderson pushed him along, getting him to walk back towards his class. The two of them looked at each other, both growing grins. Anderson quietly swung the door open, and they walked through.

The floor had a huge hole in it, surrounded by dirt that looked like it had recently been thrown up. Most of the stalls had been completely torn up, so no playing Battleshits with Anderson, but they had a different kind of battle to do anyway.

Almost before they got to the opening, one of the creatures leapt out. Anderson immediately speared it through the neck. It dripped crimson blood that was coagulating as soon as it hit the ground. It gave a pained hiss as it died.

"Well", Alucard told him, producing his pistol, "they know we're here now."

Alucard, of course, volunteered to go first, but Anderson countered with a volunteer of his own. Their disagreement ended in a loud, obnoxious fistfight. Loud enough, apparently, to wake the wicked.

Goblins began spewing forth from the hole, hissing and moaning, lunging themselves at the haplessly tangled two. The first goblin was blown back by a .454 round to the face, and the second took a bayonet to the chest, tumbling over itself haphazardly.

"Fall back to open ground?"

"I second the motion!"

In the middle of the school was a courtyard of sorts, with tables for children to eat their lunch at, and as they exited the bathroom, they backed up towards it, throwing bayonets and firing bullets to stem the tide of disgusting creatures. After another brief volley that sent the spindly creatures reeling, an alarm began sounding, and someone shouted over the PA, "Lockdown, lockdown, lockdown!"

As soon as they hit the doorway to the courtyard, one ringed by actual grass and trees, they turned and sprinted for the middle of the courtyard. Anderson, the only one with explosives on the two, threw out a bayonet jamboree, a line of bayonets ringed with plastic explosives, in a line leading from the door to the center of the courtyard. Alucard wasn't worried about him setting it off in a school, yet. More than likely, it would be a last resort.

Alucard raised his pistols, and Anderson raised his bayonets.

And then they killed them all. Because this is a Norse story.

The craters were full of bloody mud, making them hard to walk through, and pushing their way through the bodies was no small task. But now that they had a school with a goblin nest on their hands, one that had easily contained fifty or more goblins, and the combined force of an entire state police undoubtedly responding to the call within maybe the next year, they didn't have much time to dwell on their success.

Crawling into the nest was not an option for Alucard, because his outfit was expensive. So Anderson, with his dollar-store lookin-ass trench coat, kindly volunteered on the exchange of a single dick punch. After receiving his due, he crawled in, and did not return until Alucard was able to pull himself back together, several minutes later.

In his arms was a slew of objects. He dumped them onto the ground in front of Alucard, and glanced up at him with an upturned brow. Alucard stooped down and picked up a porcelain plate with a pentagram painted on the center of it. Little dots of blood had dribbled along the edges of it.

"Evidence enough", Anderson asked.

"Yep", Alucard said, swallowing his anger. He let the plate drop from his hand, shattering on the ground. "The only question is, which song do you want to slow-walk up to the bad guy to?"

"I picked last time", Anderson told him. "Your turn."

"Under the Influence", Alucard said without hesitation. "D-12."

Anderson raised an eyebrow.

"The song where Eminem talks about his dick?"

"Good choice", Anderson seconded. "Fire it up!"

Slow-walking down the hallway to the sounds of Eminem telling people to suck his dick and Bizarre telling people that all bitches are whores, including his own mom, was cool all the way up until the class bells rung, and kids began pouring out of their classrooms like nothing at all was wrong. Alucard was pretty sure that some girl called him a weirdo. But he was too busy vibing with Anderson to care.

Anderson kicked in the door to the headmaster's room. He screamed like a girl, of course, because why wouldn't he? Little bitch.

They hadn't actually coordinated how they were going to go about this, but both men knew what should be done nonetheless. Anderson proudly marched right up to the desk, while Alucard quietly slid in, shutting the door behind him.

"We took care of yer fookin goblin problem, ya pajama-wearin' basket-faced slipper-wieldin' clide du backle gither up bleetherin bon bleetherin' gummel chessy oaf-lookin stoner, nerf blookis an' milk drinkin' soy-faced shull-pip lil-moof slitherin' worm-eye hoodin' block, vile stoogie calipre tagey", Anderson told him like a real man.

"I", the man began, recovering from both his fright, and the incredible amount of Scottish testosterone on display. "Thank you. They have been stealing children for some time now."

"Huh", Alucard said from the back, "I wonder why that is."

"Speakin' of stealin' kids", Anderson piped up, "why in the bleedin' hellscape would ya let these kids run around after hearin' gunshots, ya nonce?"

"Well, the gunshots stopped", the principal declared. "So, I figured the shooter either committed suicide or ran out of bullets. a victory for the education system, I say!

"Fuck, that's sad."

"And not the point", Anderson yelled, even though he had asked the question in the first place. "Listen here ya fookin mug, you think prayin' ta the devil's fun, do ye, ya wee little man that you are?!"

"I... I don't understand a word you're saying-"

"I've got ha son o' 'e defil 'ere, ya cheeky bloker!"

"Oh bother, this conversation again? Anderson how many times-"

"An 'e's gonna teach ya a thing er two about the error of yer ways!"

"You wouldn't turn me over to such a satanic creature", the headmaster, knowing full well the game was up, said with a smile. "Your precious Bible would tell you not to give into such petty things as vengeance!"

"Aye, the Bible's got plenty on vengeance", Anderson affirmed. "''Vengeance is Mine', sayeth the LORD', Roman's 12:19."

"In this case, however", Alucard told him, pulling back his lips into an evil smile, "vengeance is most definitely the Lord's. You just get the honor of meeting him early!"

The headmaster's eyes went wide.

"Y-you can't do this!"

"Then stop me, bitch."

Alucard lunged, sinking his teeth into the man's neck, draining him of his blood on seconds. The man withered into a husk, falling limply against his chair.

"Whatdya know, ol' boy", Anderson asked.

Alucard grinned.

"Names", he said, turning to face Anderson. "Lots... and lots... of names!"

...

Pootis McTootis returned his attention to the audience, lighting up a cigar composed entirely of hair clippings and used band-aides. he took a single drag, and released a cloud of blue smoke. Then he pushed the cigar into his mouth, munching on it like a snack, and swallowing it whole.

"I'm so sorry", he told the audience, "but on an unrelated note, I need your help, cheerful audience members. There was this one Mass Effect fic that I read a long ass time ago, and I don't remember the name of it. But basically, Commander Shepherd goes around picking up characters like Master Chief, Soap, and other dumbass main video game characters, and goes on an epic quest for some reason, encountering characters like Price, Mario, and others, whilst having wacky, out-of-this-world adventures, including the use of Master Chief's ROFLCopter. If any of you are as degenerate as I am, and know the name of this story, then please let me know, because I need to fill up the spank bank."

"But you know what's really got me in my feelings right now? I've noticed that everyone in this story, especially Seras, has been fearful to some capacity. Be it when Seras yelled out in surprise, or when the Mercs dove for cover... the only exception has been Alucard. Mostly, because Alucard doesn't fear death."

Pootis McTootis picked up his Atari controller, and a grin stretched across his face.

"You want to know what Alucard fears?"