"Along came a spider, who sat down beside her, said, 'Ay, what's in the bowl, bitch?'" Well, I'll tell you what's in the bowl; a web of lies, with me at its center. I can protect Anna, but to do that, I need to keep my distance... and hide the truth... at ALL costs.

-excerpt from the Vampire Journals

Chapter 12: Out of Order

Seras, for one, had so many questions. In fact, she had so many questions that she had to think for a moment about which ones she wanted to ask first. But as she finally opened her mouth to ask away, a hearty laugh, one like bells ringing in a church choir, sounded off from Anna. She had doubled over, laughing so hard that she had to keep her eyes closed. Her laughter carried on for almost a minute, before she finally glanced up.

"You", she said laughter mixing with disbelief. "You, you weak-willed little man, you killed Dracula?!"

"Yes, I did", Alucard said, taking Anna's laughter in stride. "After his battle with you, he was left all alone in his degraded castle. He looked so sad. So, I crept up behind him and devoured him. He is dead."

"How stupid do you think I am?!"

"Stupid enough to believe that?"

"Clearly", Anna said, standing up to her full height again. Seras noted that Anna was taller than her, but she was still dwarfed by Alucard. She turned an eyebrow up to him, asking sarcastically, "My God, you're serious?"

"I am", Alucard told her. "Anna, Dracula is dead."

"Psh", she said, rolling her eyes, unconvinced.

"And even if he wasn't", Alucard told her, "you're playing into his game."

Anna glanced back at him, raising an eyebrow once again.

"He fed off desperation", Alucard explained. "It's how he won his wars. He made his enemies desperate, and then he built walls they couldn't assail right before them, even though they could have walked around them. But they tried to scale those walls in their desperation, and they failed every time. And that's how he defeated every enemy."

"What does that have to do with me", Anna said, casually glancing around at the dead-end alleyway where she stood.

"He's made you desperate", Alucard explained. "And now you're trying to scale the wall of finding him by building an army you can't control."

Alucard let those words sink in for a moment. Seras drank in the situation, in the distance, she could hear car horns honking, she could hear a crowd of people gathering outside of the bar, and she could see that Anna Valarious seemed to truly be considering what Alucard was saying.

"Look" Alucard said, "if you're going after Dracula, let's start over fresh. Let's wipe out those furfags and go after him together."

Anna looked back up at him, with an eyebrow raised over her head.

"What did you just say?"

"If you're looking for Dracula, count me in", Alucard told her with a grin. "If he survived me eating him, then I don't even know what's real anymore. At the very least, this way, we can make a game out of proving each other wrong!"

Anna stared him down, but she quickly lost Seras' attention when what Alucard had implied began to settle in.

Alucard had just offered to leave the services of the Helsing Organization to hunt down a man who was probably already dead with a woman he had only met a few times.

That implication alone told her, for starters, that the entire situation, as she had feared, was far bigger than what she was qualified for. Even more, whatever was going on here extended far past Alucard's ties to the Helsing family line, if he felt so compelled to help her that he would shirk his blood-oath to do so. For another, it told her that far more than what she had initially suspected was going on in her Master's head. Alucard wasn't just in love with this woman; it was like he thought they were soul mates.

Another thing that occurred to her, quite suddenly, was that she suddenly had a choice; either she could go with her Master, or she could remain loyal to the Helsing Organization.

The choice, she immediately recognized, was obvious. She would remain loyal to Sir Integra, who treated her like she was at least an existing object. She would allow Integra to protect her, and teach her how to become stronger, and maybe she would have a somewhat normal life. And if that failed... well, she didn't know what she would do. But she certainly didn't want to go with her Master.

A pang of guilt shot through her at that thought. Master may be difficult to work with, and appear to be unfeeling and unloving, but he was certainly beginning to prove her wrong with this display. he was willing to throw everything away for some woman he seemed to barely know.

So that he can use her, a nagging thought told her. And Sir Integra will use you, too. You're going to be a puppet until the day you die for real. All because of Alucard.

Suddenly, she didn't feel so bad about leaving Master to his devices. So what if he saved her life? To what end? If he was inclined to let her know why she was like this, maybe she would be inclined to give a damn about him and his schemes.

Speaking of schemes, what was this about him killing Dracula? Everyone knew that Abraham Van Helsing had annihilated that monster. Anna was a fool to believe Alucard, and Alucard was a fool to lie to her.

Anna sighed, lowering her head. The sound dragged Seras from her thoughts, and drew her attention back to the beautiful woman. To her incredible surprise, tears were streaming down her cheeks. Anna sniffed heavily, and glanced back up at Alucard.

"You're right", Anna told him. "I've disgraced my entire family by stooping this low. And I've done even less to honor my brother."

For a moment, everyone was silent. The group of six maintained their gazes on the woman, waiting for her to say more.

"First thing's first, then", Alucard told her gently. "We've gotta kill those werewolves."

Anna nodded, but didn't say any more. For a long, precarious moment, everyone was still, save for the tears that pooled on Anna's chin and dropped off of her onto the trash-covered ground.

Alucard stepped forward, and reached out a hand, reaching around her back, and grabbing the cuffs on her hands. He crushed the mechanisms until they shattered, freeing Anna's hands. She began rubbing her wrists intently.

"Then let's go", Alucard told her.

"Shall I lead the way", she asked, looking out past the group of five that still blocked the alleyway before her.

"Not yet", Alucard told her with a grin. "First, we need some better equipment. But before we do that", he said, walking over to Pip, and handing him his phone. "Pip, I want you to select a song from this list that is both wholesome and is cool to walk away in slow motion to."

Pip scrolled through the list, frowning.

"I don't know any of these songs", Pip admitted.

"Pip", Alucard told him, "the song that you select will determine whether or not you survive the trip."

Pip, deciding that there was no point in delaying the inevitable, hit "random".

The song that came on was Bigdicknine11's Skip Class Eat Ass.

"You're dead", Alucard told him.

Pip shrugged, and they all began walking out of the alleyway in slow motion.

...

While his earlier musings of the Helsing Organization not having maintained a safehouse in America in quite some time rang true, there was one thing that any good Helsing loved more than being safe; the tools necessary to get themselves into trouble.

He grinned at the thought, as he opened the door to the small, run-down suit shop. The place smelt musty, like someone had left mothballs in the corners and then forgotten about them. The suits on the racks looked like dust had begun to accumulate on them, and on a few in particular, the colors had faded almost entirely. There was one suit, however, contained behind a large, glass case, that was covered by a red duster, and topped with a red wool hat. A sign had been draped over the glass case which read, "reserved".

Alucard turned to his left, and witnessed a sight that had greeted him for the past ten years; Rachael, or Roach, as she sometimes called herself, manned the counter. She sat, chain-smoking behind the desk, flicking ash at a fly that had buzzed down onto the counter.

When she saw him, her eyes lit up.

"Oh, hey, sweetie", she said, in her thick Bronx accent. "You're early! You bring that sweet girl with you?"

"Not today, Roach", he told her, tipping the hat that was no longer on his head towards her.

She rolled her eyes, and gestured towards the glass case.

"Another one came in for you yesterday. You've got great timing, by the way."

"As always", he commented.

He eyed the case, but didn't advance on it. Around this time, Roach began to notice all of the people around Alucard.

She began reaching under the counter, casually commenting, "Made yourself some new friends, finally?"

"Yeah", Alucard told her, gesturing to the Mercs and Seras. "They're all accounted for." He gestured towards Anna, saying, "She's a guest."

"That so", she commented, continuing to reach under the counter. "What's your name, dolly?"

"Sound off", Alucard said in a low voice. "She's got a machine gun under that counter."

"Anna Valarious", she called out. "Former Queen of Romania."

She immediately ceased her reaching, screaming, "FUCK", and jumping straight up.

The chain-smoking Bronx woman stared at the deposed Queen, her jaw so agape Alucard began to fear she had broken it.

"From the way Alley talked about her, I thought she'd be gorgeous", she croaked out, "but... Alucard, you may have finally found someone out of your league!"

Anna leaned in to Alucard, the action sending butterflies careening throughout his stomach, and whispered, "Who's Alley?"

"I'll tell you some other time", he affirmed.

"On the subject of unknown persons", Anna said, sparing a glance at Seras, who immediately blushed and looked away. "That one has been staring at me for quite some time. It is rather disconcerting."

"I'm sure she's just making sure you're not packin' heat", Alucard told her dismissively.

"I'm not sure what that means", Anna told him cautiously.

"She's just making sure you're not a threat", Alucard said, extending a hand to her left hip, which sported a leather-covered scabbard. "Especially since you strapped that sword back on."

"It's not that", she said, turning back to Alucard. "She has been... how would you say... 'checking me out'. As in, she has been observing my body like a ravenous predator."

"Maybe she's hungry", Alucard offered with a chuckle.

Alucard had noticed it, but he didn't quite know how to handle it. Seras hadn't ever seemed to be attracted to anyone beforehand. For a while, he had suspected she might have been asexual all together.

The term "asexual" carried different connotations for Alucard than what it did for most people. Alucard had experienced a terrible sexual limbo for the majority of his life and death after his ten-year incarceration in Turkey, in which he found that he was undeniably straight, but couldn't bring himself to engage in sexual relations with anyone or anything, including either of his two wives or his own hand. In fact, the only thing that had managed to break this cycle was a deep opium high that had occurred in 1927 when Zhang Zongchang had dared him to smoke all of the opium in a single den. Frankly, the fact that he could have sex at all was thanks only to Zongchang and his wacky crew.

This was what "asexual" meant for Alucard... that was what the family physician had diagnosed it as... and even though he had personally suffered through it, he had no idea how to help anyone else who suffered it. There was the idea of getting that person... or, in this case, vampire... incredibly high, but the high had only been step one for Alucard. The next part had been up to him.

Now that Seras was mirrin' Anna, Alucard was truly confused. Had she just been gay for strong women this whole time? That seemed rather unlikely, considering the absolute SIZE of Integra. Hell, Alucard had practically raised Integra, saw her as a badass daughter, and even he was attracted to her sexually, in a weird father-daughter way. There was no way that Seras had overlooked her in the personality department, yet she never spared her a second glance. Clearly, something larger was at play here. Eventually, he would follow up on it. Right now, however...

"Oh, that reminds me, for whatever reason", Alucard said loudly, seemingly to himself. He turned towards the chain-smoking wonder behind the counter, and said, "I'd like to try on my new suit, please."

Seras looked confused, and the Mercs all shared a knowing look which seemed like barely contained joy. Anna raised an eyebrow.

Roach disappeared behind the counter for a moment, and then reemerged, holding a key in her hand, putting it down on the counter.

"Room 2, sweetie", Roach reminded him.

"Thanks, babe", he told her, swiping the key from the counter.

"And don't fuckin' eat each other in there, ya hear me?! Carpet steamers are fuckin' expensive!"

Alucard flipped her the bird, and motioned for the group to follow him.

He led the group to a set of three dressing rooms that had locks on their exteriors. The one in the middle, labelled "#2", had a sign directly underneath that, which had been slanted at an angle, reading, "Out of Order". He inserted the key into the lock, and twisted.

"Um, Master", Seras hesitantly said, "it says 'out of order'."

Everyone in the group turned to look at Seras. The Mercs looked at her with exasperation. Anna looked at her with annoyance. Six-gun, in particular, looked at her much like how the picture of Mike Wasowski with Sully's face photoshopped over it looks at you in your darkest nightmares.

"Police Girl", Alucard said through a hefty sigh, "stop embarrassing yourself in front of your crush."

Seras blinked for a moment, then went red as a tomato, and then her mouth went agape, and then began backing away.

"I-I", Seras began. "WHAT?!"

"Whatever, man", Six-gun said, annoyance clear in his voice. "Just open up the armory already!"

Alucard pushed the door open, and they were greeted by a hallway with another door at the end. It looked like it had been painted to look like plywood, but it was most definitely made of steel, probably lined with silver. when they made their way down the hall and Alucard placed his hands on it, Seras took note of the fact that his flesh seemed to sizzle. Alucard's only response was a grunt.

"Password, please", a mechanical voice called.

"Do you know Candice", Alucard replied.

"Candice who", the mechanical voice questioned.

"Candice dick fit in yo mouf, boi", Alucard asked the machine.

The machine beeped in response, and the door parted with a snap of released pressure and a hiss.

The sight that was revealed to them was enough to bring a tear to Six-gun's eye, a content smile and nod to Pest and Cali Swag, an agape mouth to Pip, the same for Seras, and a look that raised both of Anna Valarious' eyebrows.

Behind this door was a twenty by forty foot room which housed every conceivable type of weapon; long swords, short swords, pikes, spears, cleavers, morning stars, every melee weapon imaginable, mingling with small single-shot pistols that looked like they had cost five dollars total to make, all the way up to chain-guns and rocket launchers. Bombs, cartridges, throwing knives, bayonets, bandoliers, body armor, all of it was now at their disposal.

As Alucard entered the room he had most frequently visited whilst in America, he immediately strode over to a small section of handguns. A few of them were custom-made, used throughout various times in his life and death; an ornate, muzzle-loading percussion cap pistol that he had used to execute Carmilla in front of her followers, thereby making the envelopment of his armies into his own complete, a pair of Webley revolvers, wrecked beyond repair at the climactic Retreat of Van, and a pair of highly stylized and customized M1911's that he had used for the duration of WWI, and for the majority of WWII, an Obrez Mosin that was short enough to hide at the right angle, but was pimped out enough to be memorable, even coming with a foregrip for stabilization, and underneath them, a pair of .30 carbine pistols, crudely made with patchwork material, but effective enough to serve their purpose. Alucard remembered how the right pistol had a tighter spring than the left one, and was therefore harder to rack... not that that had been particularly problematic for him.

Underneath that was a small desk, upon which sat several magazines, which, to his glee, were fitted for his .454's, and had been refilled. He swiped them off of the desk and pocketed them, then turned to the rest of the group. His gaze fell on Anna Valarious first.

"What exactly are we walking into, Anna?"

"An enclosed, well-maintained, and well-guarded warehouse", Anna told him.

"What is it with people and warehouses these days?"

"Sorry?"

"... Never mind. Please, continue."

Anna hesitated for a moment before continuing.

"A little more than half a dozen Marching werewolves, all of whom have had rather Spartan training."

Marching. At first, that term hadn't even registered in his mind, it had been so long since he had heard it. After a moment of digging... and some unpleasant memories... he recognized them as the modern-day Grunt werewolves.

There were four major class of werewolves in the modern day. The most common were Dwarf werewolves, sometimes called by less seasoned hunters "traditional" werewolves, despite them being one of the newest additions to the werewolf fold, as a result of decreasing in quality DNA. They were just that; men that turned into wolves. Although group tactics had mostly died out in overall vampire culture, Dwarf werewolves were almost always observed in packs. They ranged from completely animalistic to possessing minor human traits, and their size and how much control they had over their changing varied from werewolf to werewolf.

Grunt werewolves were the more anthromorphic kind, which seemed to be the new fascination of pop culture, though he personally didn't find anything fascinating about them at all, minus their history. To him, they were truly the "traditional" werewolf, their history spanning back to before the city of Atlantis was destroyed by God, as evidence of a race of "Dog-headed men who made war abundantly", noted by several great Greek historians. Their turning was strictly uniform, and entirely controlled by whoever carried the curse, with size and power varying only slightly from werewolf to werewolf. Alucard referred to these in particular as "furfags", especially after fursuit-wearing became a thing.

Juggernaut werewolves were the only significant off-shoot from Grunts, being basically twice to three times their size, and far more powerful, but they paled in comparison to the Uberwolf, which was what the Captain... was his name Logan? … had been. They fought and coexisted in a spatial plane, allowing them to extend themselves through Astral Projection. They were insufferably hard to fight, and were the only kind of werewolf that had to be killed with silver, as it was a purifying agent that had sub-spatial properties. Technically, gold affected them, too, but that only paralyzed them... and if you used too much, it made them levitate.

Even though it wasn't necessary for a kill, silver worked exceptionally well at eliminating most werewolves, as it was the only metal that could simultaneously rip apart and "purify" the body. Dismemberment and blood loss worked too, but that took time. Time which the crew didn't have.

Speaking of which...

Alucard reached up to the wall, and pulled a gun belt with two holsters off of it. Each holster contained a Dragoon revolver, and the loops on the belt contained silver .357 magnum rounds. He extended it towards Anna.

"It's gonna get hairy in there", Alucard told her, his grin widening at the pun. "You're going to need these."

Anna wrinkled her nose and waved a hand dismissively, saying, "My sword will be sufficient."

"We need an opening volley", Alucard explained, his grin lessening. "Just take them and dump them all when I shout."

Anna shook her head, saying, "No thank you."

Alucard narrowed his eyes. He really, really didn't want to jump to conclusions, but his gut was rarely wrong...

Alucard continued to stare, until Anna gave a big sigh.

"If it will make you feel content", she said, taking the gun belt from his hand, and looping it around her waist, being careful not to get her scabbard tangled in it.

She tightened it to fit her figure, and then placed her hands on the handles of the big irons, pushing the holsters into comfortable positions on her thighs. Alucard didn't want to give off a sigh of relief. It changed nothing. He had seen it in her eyes.

"Now, for the rest of you."

He motioned to Pest first, and reached over to the wall, pulling an interesting weapon off of it.

"All of these weapons are specifically designed for use with silver bullets", he added nonchalantly, "but this particular one is rather fancy."

Technically, any gun could run silver bullets. Sure, they were a bit messier than normal copper-coated lead, but at the end of the day, a bullet was a bullet was a bullet. He recalled how when the Nazi's had begun to get desperate towards the end of WWII, instead of wasting valuable lead on bullets, they carved conical pieces of wood and fashioned them into their cartridges, literally using wooden bullets in modern warfare.

What made these particular guns special was all in how they were designed. He was no gunsmith, so he could only smile and nod when Walter gleefully explained to him that the guns he designed were specifically modified to exact maximum effectiveness from silver bullets, and the details in how it was done had all gone completely over his head.

He still had the mental capacity, however, to differentiate between certain types of weapons and how they should be used.

"This is an eight-shot revolver", he told Pest. "What's cool about this is that if you pull this pin right here, it'll fire a 20 gauge cartridge loaded with silver buck. You pop it open from the back to reload it. However, we both know you won't have enough time to do that, so, as backup, you'll be using..."

He returned to the wall, and yanked off an MP5A2.

"Or, really, this'll be your primary."

He handed him both the MP5, and a small chest rig that was stacked with thirty-round MP5 mags. All of them were loaded with silver bullets. The man expertly attached the rig to his present armor.

"Now, onto you", he said to Cali Swag.

He pulled another interesting weapon off of the wall.

"Now, I know they have some trashy gun restrictions in California", he told the man with a smirk. The other Mercs snickered. "Fortunately, I have a solution; something that'll kill good, but is still Compliant!"

He passed the weapon to Cali Swag, who examined it thoroughly.

"It's a pneumatic crossbow", Alucard explained. "You won't have to pump it up, it's a self-contained cycle-pump. I don't know how it works, but it fills itself up, and loads another arrow at the same time, all faster than the blink of an eye. It's quiet, too."

He pointed to the cylindrical object attached to the underside of the bow.

"The only thing you'll need to fill is the magazine, and that'll be easy enough, 'cause you can just pop that off and replace it. Each comes with twelve shots, and if you get ahold of more bolts, you can slide them back into the cylinder."

Alucard passed him a bandolier with hoops that held more of the cylinders. Cali Swag gladly accepted them. He turned back to the wall, and pulled a few Glock mags out of a stationary rack, passing them to him. They were loaded with silver bullets, as well.

Alucard turned to Six-gun, saying, "Oh, I know you'll love this one!"

He turned back to the wall, and pulled what at first glance appeared to be a customized M104 shotgun off of the wall, albeit possessing a heat shield that was silver-plated. On second glance, the underside contained a flower-shaped magazine, with four cylinders set on a rotating scroll. At the end of the barrel sat two bayonet lugs, one on either side, a bit canted.

"If you know it, you know it", Alucard said with a grin. "This baby comes with two silver bayonets, four separate magazines carrying seven rounds each, and the unique ability to be reloaded like a regular shotgun!"

Alucard attached the bayonets to the end, and Six-gun noted that they resembled great tusks coming off the maw of some ancient, predatory animal. It took every fiber of his being not to jump for joy as a wide and malicious grin spread across his face. He snatched it up quickly, and began stroking it almost reverently.

Alucard pointed at Pip, saying, "I've got something for you, too."

He went back to the wall, and Pip recognized the gun he pulled off instantly; a DAS-58, a highly upgraded version of the tried, true, and loved FN FAL. Pip had carried one throughout his "travels" in the middle east, and he never had any complaints about it.

"This", Alucard said, holding it out like he was passing him freshly folded laundry, "is just a fucking gun."

"I'll take it", Pip affirmed.

"And for you, my Apprentice", Alucard said, walking over to the opposite wall, closer to where he had gotten the magazines to his gun from, and pulled a long rifle off of the wall.

He walked back over to her, and held the rifle out for her.

"This is a very special object to me. This was used by Abraham Van Helsing's son, Gabriel Gideon Helsing, during the Great War. This is a completely regular Gewehr 98, except it's stamped with the original Helsing Arms Manufacturing crest on the receiver. This beautiful object passed through the hands of a good friend of mine. Now I want you to have it."

Seras stared at the rifle. There were pits in the wood, even though it looked like it had been meticulously cared for, which made sense for a weapon undoubtedly made almost a hundred years ago. She took note of the supposed crest; a highly stylized Medieval European dragon, holding what appeared to be a flaming sword in its mouth.

She looked back up at Alucard. His gaze seemed... strangely soft and inviting. A bite of insanity by knowledge hid within them... but they still made her want to reach out and take his hand.

"Why me", she suddenly asked.

The entire room suddenly seemed to grow uncomfortable. The Mercs immediately turned to their weapons, disassembling them so that they could better understand them, and Anna looked on with a queer expression on her face. Alucard shook his head.

"I'm sure we'll have plenty of time to discuss this later", he told her. "For now, all you need to know is that I chose you for a reason."

Those words seemed to snap her out of a daze she didn't even know she was in. The world seemed to snap into focus, and her best wishes had been realized. Suddenly, the idea of taking the rifle in his hand seemed trivial in comparison. She reached out, and took it from his hands, examining every smooth or pitted contour with a reverence that brought a smile to Alucard's face.

Alucard reached back over to the wall, and pulled a long khaki bandolier off of it.

"What good is a gun without bullets", Alucard told her. "Pull this across your chest."

She did so, finding that each of the seven leather pouches contained two clips with five silver bullets attached to each of them. She looked back up at her Master, nodding.

"Let's blow this popsicle stand", Alucard told the crew. "Where to, Anna?"

"There's an abandoned train that will take us straight there", she told them. "But it is abandoned for a reason. The train is insufferably slow. It will take at least two days to get there if it has been charged, and God help us if it hasn't."

"Couldn't we walk there?"

"The train is the only safe way in or out."

At this, Pip raised his eyebrow. An enclosed space on a set track was not Alucard's idea of "safe" either. But they had no other way, and those werewolves had to die.

"We'll have to take the chance. Pip, another song, please."

Once again, Pip hit random.

"Gucci flip-flop, suck a nigga dick through a sock-"

"SKIP", Alucard shouted.

The next song was 645AR's Bible and a K.

"I hate you."

"I wear that fact as a badge of honor", Pip told him nonchalantly.

Once again, they slow-motion walked away to the very not-fitting song. Once again, that sinking feeling returned to Alucard's stomach. Everything was about to come to a climax, and, Alucard was beginning to believe, probably not for the better.

...

Not ten minutes after Alucard and his absolute 10/10 goddess walked out, the bell over the door rang again, and Roach looked up over her blue cloud of smoke to witness a sight that absolutely puzzled her. Before her stood a five-foot nothing... thing, with hair so blond it must have come from a newborn, a distinctly feminine face with intense lavender eyes, which had a gleam of confidence about them, wearing a brown shirt that looked hilariously uniform, even having some badges on it, with a pair of black shorts and knee-high black stockings to cover its legs, and some rather nice dress shoes on its feet.

If it needed a new suit, it had come to the absolute wrong place to get it-

A double take revealed large cat ears growing out to the top of the thing's head.

She decided right then and there that this thing had come to the wrong neighborhood.

"We're closed, fuck off", she told the thing.

"Oh, hello", the thing told her. "I'd like to purchase a suit!"

"First of all", Roach began, "what part of, 'we're closed, fuck off' don't you understand? Second off, you'd probably have an easier time finding a dress that fits you, babe."

"Oh, I'm a boy, actually-"

"No you're fuckin' not."

"Oh, actually, I am-"

"I said no, you're fuckin' not."

"Look, we could argue about what's in my pants all day, but I-"

"If you're a boy", Roach said, waving a hand at her wrinkled face, "then I'm a boy, too. And I'm pretty sure I've got coochie."

"Look, can I just get a suit? From stall number 2?"

"Wrong password, motherfucker", Roach said, as she dipped behind the counter, and raised up the 5.56x45mm minigun, and depressed the trigger.

The creature, whatever it was, quickly dissipated into a red stain on the floor under a withering hail of bullets. Roach let go of the trigger for a moment, and watched the corpse. Its finger twitched, probably just a reaction to the nervous system suddenly being deprived of communication to the brain, but what was the point in taking chances? Roach let loose another burst, turning the puddle of gore and blood into a much more spread out puddle of gore and blood.

Satisfied with the results, she put the minigun down on the counter, and returned to the telephone on the wall, picking it up, and pressing 1 to hotline dial directly into Helsing headquarters. After only two rings, she got someone.

"Helsing Organization, line secure, go ahead."

"I need a cleanup crew to Site Omega-12", she said in her throaty smoker's voice. "Just dealt with a little pe- WHA?!"

She had turned around to find that the bullet holes were still present, but that the body, and its contents, were not. She gingerly looked at the cigarette between her fingers, and shook her head.

"They tell me not to buy them from street vendors, and now look, someone's laced my shit."

"Say again?"

"Negative on the cleanup", she said. "But... I am going to need some renovations. And maybe a trip to the funny farm!"