Part of why I hate working in teams is that you're really only as strong as your weakest link. If I'm alone, a shootout with police is no problem whatsoever; sanitation workers clean a few mangled bodies off the streets, and I get to run away mwa-ha-ha-ing. Throw a couple of extra humans into the mix, though, and you get a no-win situation. No point in wasting meat-shields; might as well spend the night in jail.

-excerpt from the Vampire Journals

Chapter 17: A Chance Bromance

Alucard hated jail. The bars on the doors gave him sceevy vibes, the accommodations were shit, and he always seemed to lose his stuff here. Currently, he was down to his white button-down shirt and black dress pants. They had replaced his shoes with slippers, and had even taken his glasses from him. Fortunately, they had allowed him to keep his gloves, which would have been to their detriment if they had removed them anyway.

Seras was under the impression, as was most of the rest of the world, that Alucard had been "enhanced" by Abraham Van Helsing, who had supposedly performed black magic spells on him to make him stronger, and then forced him to wear restraining gloves and belts. That was simply untrue, a lie spread by the Vatican to discourage other hunters from working with Helsing. The truth was, he had done it all to himself.

It had been during the terrible Retreat of Van that Alucard had finally unlocked his full potential, when the Turks had led him to believe that Gabriel had fallen in battle... that he had lost his second and last friend. The carnage brought a smell down from the mountains that the retreating Armenians had described as nothing less than "Hellish", and the armies he had left shattered that day had been such a horrific sight that they had made even Gabriel collapse and weep.

Abraham had been right in stating initially that he had been "a man amongst monsters" throughout his life. It was what made him stand out from other similar armies; whereas they had embraced their animalistic virtues and embodied them, making them lower than men, and by extension, easy targets for experienced hunters, he personally had conducted himself with an air of dignity and nobility that gave him and his army the upper hand in combat against both men and monsters.

But at the Retreat of Van, when he believed that he had lost everything, he had let it all out in a violent torrent. He had embraced the monster, and had let him rampage. And the end result had horrified even him.

He convinced Gabriel after the war that it was necessary for the good of mankind that he not be able to freely use such power. Afterwards, Alucard had commissioned the gloves and restraining belts, and had put them on himself. Now, they seemed a hindrance and a nuisance at times, but they were a reminder that he wasn't defending the world so much as himself whenever he fought against them.

"Hey, Boss", Six Gun said to Pip, "do ya think that if I'd stabbed myself a few times, they'd've let me go to the hospital instead of jail, too?"

His company wasn't all that good, either. The two dipshits he had to share a cell with were constantly telling each other bad jokes to pass the time. He had heard Pip use the word "soap" almost thirty times in the past fifteen minutes, and each iteration had been worse than the last.

"Pip, I swear to god", Alucard butted in, "if you say, 'why don't you just let them stab you in here', and then something along the lines of, 'just don't drop the soap first', I will redecorate this cell with a fresh red paint made from your desiccated corpse."

"Merde", Pip said, "I am becoming predictable."

"You think I'm kidding? Keep it up, motherfucker."

A sound caught his ear, one that he had heard in the past. It was the sound of a Scotsman, screaming both obscenities and blessings, generally in that order. Alucard's grin widened as the sound grew closer.

"Speaking of motherfuckers", Alucard said, as Alexander Anderson, stripped down to his clerical robes, came around the corner, being escorted by police officers.

"ALUCARD", Anderson yelled upon sighting him.

"ANDERSON", Alucard reciprocated, "I should have known we'd meet again!"

"Aye", Anderson continued at the noise level of a shout, "too bad we can never meet under better circumstances after what you did!"

"What I did", Alucard countered. "Have you ever looked at yourself in the mirror? You're the reason I can't sleep at night!"

The two cops escorting Anderson looked at each other. Alucard knew that look. A prisoner death report was much easier to fill out than a prisoner release form. They keyed open Alucard's cell, and roughly shoved Anderson in, followed by Scottish obscenities. When the door closed behind them, the two men began glaring at each other.

As soon as the cops left, the glares lightened to grins.

"Anderson, old pal! How have you been?"

"Well, considerin' Lent's over, much better! I always end up givin' up stuff I need in the long run!"

"I hear ya, I hear ya! Speaking of which, what in the world are you in here for?"

"Well, ya see, I was tryna' bless a police officer!"

"And they arrested you for that?"

"I wasn't finished! Anyway, we gets ta talkin', and next thing I know, I had punched him seventeen times in the face on accident!"

"...'accident'?"

"Apparently, they said the whole time that it was happenin', I was screamin', 'WHY... DIDN'T... THEY... MAKE... STEPHEN... A... SAINT?!'"

"Stephen the Great?"

"Yeah."

"He was my cousin."

"Really?!"

"Yeah, and he is a saint in the Orthodox Church."

"When was this a thing?!"

"1992."

"And no one bothered to tell me?"

"Well, top-down communication is better in the Orthodox Church than it is from the Vatican. And Orthodoxy still believes in pigeon as a primary form of communication."

"You sure do know a lot about Orthodox Christianity."

"Well, that's what I was oh so long ago, an Orthodox Christian. I check in every once in a while for giggles."

"And you don't burst into flames every time you walk into a church?"

"Apparently God wants me to suffer through those awful sermons instead. Speaking of which, you still planning on doing your lame ass sermon on Sunday?"

"Long as they don't kick me out before then."

"Oh, good. I can't wait to watch you make 500 people squirm in the pews... you know, if your sermon is anything like our little talks. Remember the Jews?"

"How can I forget them when they faked their death rates in both the Great War AND the Holocaust just to get oppression points towards having their own country?"

"It's hard to disagree with you after all of the shit they pulled on me. Have you ever had the Jews run a misinformation campaign against you out of petty spite? It changes your perspective on them real quick."

"Shite, have you read the Bible? It's a big laundry list of all the fooked up shite the Jews did."

"Indeed; it's a good source to cite when you're deciding whether or not you want to trust any Jewish store owners. Or politicians, for that matter. Or Samarians. Or Canaanites. Or Ishmaelites."

"Frankly, it's a good reason for judging everyone based on stereotypes."

Pip and Six Gun looked at each other with a mixture of confusion, disgust, and terror in each other's eyes.

"I want out of this cell", Pip said.

Alucard discretely pumped his fist. He and Anderson could read each other so well, that when he wanted to make an entire room uncomfortable, Anderson was able to double him up with little to no effort. It was a great feeling.

"Speakin' of which", Anderson piped up, "wouldya mind bustin' me outta here?"

"Why? The Vatican doesn't shield its own anymore?"

"Hey, now. No, when I called them up, they said I should, and I quote, 'sleep it off'."

"Geez, some brotherhood. Well, I was saving my one call for a good prank call on the President, but sure, why not? GUARD, HEY, GUARD!"

One of the guards came walking over, shouting, "Yeah, yeah, what?"

"I'd like my phone call."

"Sorry, line's down", the guard said with a smirk and a shrug.

Alucard approached the bars, extending his arm and index finger.

"I don't think you heard me", he told the guard, "I SAID-"

The guard's eyes turned red, as Alucard told him in a deep voice, "You want to get me a phone."

"I... want to get you a phone...", the guard repeated uncertainly.

"And you want to sneak me an extra pudding cup while you're at it."

"And I want to sneak you an extra pudding cup while I'm at it", the guard said, much more confidently this time.

"And you want to stop beating your wife so hard. Seriously, her cooking can't be that bad."

Alucard and Anderson giggled, as the guard began responding, "You're right... it's not that bad when she replaces butter with margarine."

Alucard and Anderson shared a glance, and Alucard recanted, "Never mind. Beat her harder."

...

"Pudding is unironically the best part of jail", Anderson attested, as he finished off the smuggled pudding cup. "I sure hope they never get rid of it for a meme."

"No worries", Alucard told him, "just like with the Hagia Sophia, no one will ever defile the sacred places. Speaking of which, would you goatfuckers mind keeping it down", Alucard shouted to Pip and Six Gun, "I'm making a phone call to your boss."

Alucard lifted the stolen flip phone, and began dialing. As soon as the phone began ringing, it was pushed up to his ear. He was greeted with the sound of Integra screaming "FUCK OFF", and then slamming the phone down.

Alucard redialed, and held the phone up to his ear once more. This time, Integra picked it up, not saying anything.

"How's my little slutbag doing?"

"Alucard", Integra half yelped in surprise. "Where are you?!"

"Jail", Alucard told her. "I'm still not sure where, though."

"Virginia", Integra told him.

"How the fuck do you know?"

"A news clip just flashed across my computer... Alucard, why the hell are you throwing up gang signs in your mugshot?"

"They got tired of retaking the picture."

For a moment, Integra was silent.

"Alucard", she began, "I'm so sorry."

"What for?"

"This whole trip... I just wanted you to make things right with her."

It was Alucard's turn to be silent.

"I forgive you", he finally said.

The silence persisted.

"How is she", Integra asked.

"Alive", Alucard told her, "and whole again."

"For how long?"

"That's not up to me", he said, clenching his fist. "I did what had to be done, and now she's whole again. That's what's important."

"I'm... glad to see everything worked exactly the way I planned."

"You would say that."

"You need out of jail?"

"Yes. Would you mind busting Anderson out, too?"

"Alexander Anderson? What the bloody hell is he doing in jail?"

"Does it matter?"

"Yes."

"Very well... then what if I said... please?"

"No."

"I see... what if I said... pretty please?"

"Go fuck yourself."

"I will, but first, I propose a counter argument... pretty please, with sugar on top?"

"Ugh, fine!"

"Thank you!"

"Fuck you!"

"After the mission. Toodles!"

Alucard hung up the phone, turning his attention to his cellmates.

"We'll be out of here in an hour. Until then, no soap jokes."

...

Pip decided that the hour he had spent in the cell with Alucard and Anderson had to have been punishment for some of the heinous crimes he had committed in the Middle East. Listening to the two of them talk was quite interesting, given their collective knowledge, but more like in the same way that it was interesting listening to an old Hitler speech. He didn't understand half of it, and the half he could understand made him want to poke out his other eye. What was worse was that the two of them kept making jokes throughout it all. Most of them flew straight over his head, and the ones he could understand were so layered that listening to each one was like eating a whole cake in one sitting.

So when the guard rolled up to the gate, and opened it up to let them out, Pip and Six Gun were the first to leave, with Alucard and Anderson laughing in sync behind them on their way out. Fortunately, some of his good karma was repaid by the people at the returns desk giving back him and Six Gun's equipment without anything missing, with grumbles about "bad taste" pushing him merrily towards the door.

Anderson was lucky that the Vatican had absolutely no flow, and he also reclaimed his trench coat. However, Alucard, after receiving his guns, having exceptional taste, was not lauded the return of his clothing. As the receptionist made up some bullshit about how things may have been switched around, and the clothing accidentally shipped to another jail, Alucard could have sworn he saw one of the cops in the background trying on his red duster.

"Yeah, I'm gonna need your badge numbers", he told the receptionist.

With a great sigh, the receptionist clarified, "Mine and who elses'?"

"Everyone who works here. Say, don't badge numbers also tell you home addresses?"

"Any particular reason why you would need that information?"

"No particular reason whatsoever... unless you, say, own a prized racing horse..."

As the intrepid group of weirdos waited outside for Seras, Alucard mentioned to Pip in passing, "No one got bit, did they?"

Immediately, Pip tensed, and Alucard noticed. He narrowed his red eyes, looking Pip up and down.

"Well", Pip said, thinking quickly, "Cali had his wound bled into."

"Yeah, as long as he's alive that won't do anything, he should be fine", Alucard told him.

"Then no."

"Excellent. Better you be shot dead now then go through the process of being turned into a werewolf."

Right around then, Seras exited the jail. All eyes turned towards her, most of them in order to ogle her. She looked tired, and not as sure-footed the as the last time Alucard had seen her. He noted that her eyes looked a bit puffy. She had probably had a long few hours in jail.

Seras frowned, and turned to Alucard, asking, "Master, do we have a car, or taxi, or anything to get us to an airport, so we can go home?"

"I've got a Firebird in lockup", Anderson told them. "It should make the route back to Philly a few hour trip, easily."

"Fuck, that train was slow", Alucard berated. He then perked up, asking Anderson, "A fucking Firebird?"

"Aye", Anderson told him with a grin. "The Vatican is a pathway to many opportunities, some of which involve muscle cars!"

"Oh, good, I want to go home", Seras said wearily.

Suddenly, Seras stumbled, falling into her Master's side. Alucard caught her deftly, one hand instinctively grabbing her sleeved arm. Alucard squeezed it a bit, feeling some swelling. In a moment of almost blinding panic, he yanked up her sleeve, revealing bite marks... and black tracks running from each wound up her arm.

"Mother", Alucard breathed in a harsh whisper.

He almost couldn't bring himself to finish his expletive, but after a moment, he nearly screamed, "FUCKER!"

The racking of a slide beside him went unobserved, as he thought about how much time Seras might have before the transformation... or just straight-up death... occurred. The feeling of cold steel on the side of his head, however, did not go unobserved. Alucard slowly rolled his head to see Pip, holding his 1911 up to Alucard's head.

"What... in the fuck", Alucard said slowly, "could you possibly hope to accomplish here?"

"Let her go."

"So that she can faceplant?"

"Let... her... go."

"You know what? You've been on my nerves this entire trip. Alright, smartass, I'll let her go, but you've gotta take care of her. So, genius, what's step one here?"

Pip glared at Alucard, and Alucard glared right back. Ever so slowly, Pip lowered his 1911. he maintained his glare, but the point was made.

"Anderson" Alucard said, not taking his eyes off of Pip, "would you mind taking us back to your church-"

"Allow me to just stop ya right there", Anderson said, holding up a hand. "What you're going to tell me is, "Can we go back to your church, and perform a purification ritual, on the oof chance that it'd work, and I mean oof because there's absolutely no chance of that working. Which leaves me with a choice; I can either take ya back to the safehouse I have so graciously provided, which even comes with free garlic, or, I can forsake mah sworn duty to uphold the purity of the sacred places by allowing a vampiric heathen and his clumsy harlot inside a bloody sanctuary, and then waste copious amounts of holy water saving an unlife that I frankly cannot find it within me to care any less about, even though it'd much as likely kill 'er, thereby makin' the entire trip and ritual a complete fookin' waste of me precious time?"

Anderson put a hand up to his chin, stroking the stubble on it, which had already begun filling in after only a few hours.

"Hmm, let me think about it", he said, continuing to stroke his beard. "No."

"Then how about a favor?"

"What's that now", Anderson asked, holding an ear up to his head.

"A favor, in exchange for the life of my Apprentice."

Anderson once again returned the hand to his stubble, stroking it thoughtfully.

"Can't you just, ya know", Six Gun piped up, "suck all the venom out? I mean, you are pretty good at suckin'."

Alucard turned a gaze towards Six Gun, a deadpanned expression adorning it. Slowly, his lips crawled up into a terrible grin. A chuckle escaped his chest.

"Yes", Alucard told him, "and no. If I do that right now, the poison is far enough up her arm that even I couldn't get it without a good long suck, and that would just put her life in even more danger. She'd need that stuff within a few inches of the wound for me to get a proper suck on."

"Alright, fine", Anderson said with a grunt. "I accept your favor in exchange for this service."

"Very well", Alucard told him, "but I don't do butt stuff."

"You'll be lucky if butt stuff's all we do", Anderson told him with a grin. "Let's all climb our happy arses into me car and hit the road as fast as we can, bound for Philly. St. Peter's Church of Philadelphia, here we come!"

As they made a beeline for the impound, with Seras tucked gently into Alucard's side, Pip asked him, "Why are you helping her?"

Alucard glanced back at him.

"Now, Pip", he began, "I know you're pretty fucking stupid, but do you honestly think that I would waste my one chance at a happy life to save some random Big Titty Police Girl if I didn't think she was worth it, much less let her die of a werewolf bite after pouring so much effort into her?"

The group jogged on in silence, getting closer and closer towards destiny.

...

The Firebird roared down the street, hitting a good twenty miles over the speed limit. Since it was the dead of night, practically no one was on the road. It was a racer's dream... unless your race was against time.

They were a good four and three quarters' hours at least into their journey, and Seras had begun to act delirious. Alucard in the passenger's seat and Anderson driving tried to lighten the mood with jokes throughout, but everyone could tell how dire the situation was becoming.

The sun had set completely at this point, and Anderson had begun poking fun at Alucard for being a nightwalker who was currently sitting. Pip wasn't exactly sure how many jokes Anderson could squeeze out of that small frame, but so far he had gotten eleven. It would almost be impressive, if the two of them hadn't set about making almost all of their jokes as offensive as humanly possible.

Pip felt something gently squeeze him, and turned to see Seras staring curiously into his eye. A light sweat had broken out across her forehead, and her eyes looked like they were fading in and out of a daydream. She sat in the middle of him and Six Gun, and the two of them worked to keep her upright and awake. She gently squeezed him again.

"What is it, Mon Chere?"

"Pip", Seras asked in a wavering voice, "are we almost home?"

"Yes, Mon Chere, we're almost home."

"Can I see my mommy and daddy again, Pip?"

Keep her awake, whatever you do, the words rang in his head from the beginning of their trip. Keep her talking if you have to.

"Of course, Mon Chere, you'll see your mommy and daddy when this trip is over!"

"So I am going to die."

She said it in a way that was so final that it startled Pip. Yet, she said it in a way that led Pip to believe she was ok with dying. As if she were ready to leave this world she had been inducted into.

"Non, Mon Chere", he began, but she cut him off.

"Are you going to see your mommy and daddy too, Pip?"

"Non, Mon Chere", Pip told her, "I'm not going to see my mama and papa."

"At least you'll be alive, then", she told him. She squeezed his arm again, and asked, "Will we ever see each other again, Pip?"

"Of course we will, Mon Chere", he told her. "Your mommy and daddy are just coming for a visit. Then we'll all be back together again."

He himself wasn't quite sure what he was rambling about, but he was trying to keep her awake more than have an intelligent conversation. She seemed to accept this, however, nodding her head. In a moment of bravery, he grabbed her hand and squeezed it.

"You're going to live, Mon Chere", he told her.

She made a confused face, and told him, "But I'm already dead."

He wanted to tell her that she wasn't dead, that she was alive, and well, and that she had so much left to live for. He wanted to tell her that she wasn't alone in this limbo world, and that, inevitably, everyone would find themselves to be the walking dead, and the only thing they could do about it was to live like it was all they could do. But as he opened his mouth to tell her so, sirens sounded behind them.

Anderson glanced over his shoulder, and grimaced, declaring, "Ah, shite!"

"What's wrong", Alucard asked.

"Do ya think they'd notice if me registration is out?"

"Depends, how long has it been gone?"

"12."

"Days? That's not so bad."

"No..."

"Weeks?"

"No..."

"Months?"

"No..."

"YEARS?!"

"...aye..."

"Baller. Yeah, they'll notice, and they won't be happy."

"Well, then", Anderson said, loud enough to get everyone's attention. "The situation's drastically changed for the worse. Our only two options now are to run or fight, 'cause I can't go back to jail! I'm too bloody handsome!"

"Don't you also owe people money in there?"

"Yes, but that's besides the point. If we fight, we'll be wastin' precious time, so it looks like we'll have to make a mad dash for it."

He pushed a button on his center console, and a small section flipped over, revealing three switches. He opened up the ashtray, and then popped it out, revealing yet another switch. He flipped it, and the car lurched; suddenly, the car felt tighter, and jerkier... certainly more perky.

"Alrighty, fuel injector's on, and I've got nitrous at the ready. Is everyone buckled in?"

"Who cares? What else do you need to get us the hell out of here?"

"Some good music."

Alucard reached into his coat, and withdrew a CD.

"You Could Be Mine."

"Perfect."

Alucard pushed the CD into the rack, and the mood quickly changed.

Anderson hit the first dose of nitrous, and the car shot forward. Behind them, the cop began picking up speed as well, though he was a bit slow on the uptake compared to the supped-up car. The sports car continued to put distance between itself and the cop, up until Anderson grunted, and cranked the wheel to the left. The tires squealed, and the car skidded across the road, and finally shot down a much smaller road. They were now entering a small town.

"Almost missed me turn", Anderson said with a shake of his head.

He shifted gears and gunned the engine, making the monster roar like it had found the trail of its prey, and was on the hunt. The tires screeched to keep up with how fast the axle was turning, and flames were occasionally sprouting from the two tailpipes. There was no way that a single cop car, even one of the powerful Crown Vics, would ever have a chance of keeping up.

Naturally, the cop called for backup.

Two more cop cars swooped in from behind, seemingly melting in from the shadows. Upon seeing them, Anderson popped open the center console, and pressed a button inside. He quickly closed the console, turning towards Alucard.

"Panic button", Anderson explained. "The Iscariots should be waiting for us when we roll up."

"Just what I needed", Alucard told him with a grin, "a Catholic firing squad!"

"I'd say that were a double entendre", Anderson said, "but I only had one thing in mind when ye said it!"

"Yeah, yeah", Alucard said with a smirk and a dismissive wave.

The engine continued to roar, pacing itself well ahead of the multiple cop cars that followed behind. There wasn't much traffic to swerve around, so Anderson kept his foot on the gas, using the open road to his greedy motor's advantage. Before long, the cop cars were almost an afterthought.

Suddenly, two SWAT SUV's pulled onto the road directly in front of them.

"Ah, shite, we're blocked in", Anderson said idly. He turned his head to the right, and a grin formed. "Hey, wait, no we aren't!"

He cranked the wheel, taking them down a small town road. He shifted into a lower gear, and readied another dose of nitrous.

"You're about ta see some wacky shite", he said to no one in particular.

As the nose of the front bumper crossed the threshold of the end of the street, he cranked the wheel to the left and hit the boost. The car spun around, doing a perfect 270, and shot forward.

"Uh, Anderson", Alucard said, "we're going the wrong way."

"Not for long", he said, as he cranked the wheel to the right.

The car shot down another small town road, and exited onto the main road behind all of the cop cars, which all looked like they had nearly slammed into one another. Anderson cranked the wheel again, and shot straight through the wall of cars, expertly navigating the sea of metal. When he was out the other side, the cop cars seemed to come back to life, all moving at once to try and catch him. All at once, they had to stop, trying to figure out a proper order to move in so that they all didn't wreck each other.

Anderson used the opportunity to make a speedy getaway, allowing the engine to roar incessantly as he quickly switched back to the high gears. It looked like they were finally home free.

"The church is just a few miles that way", Anderson said, pointing straight ahead. "We'll be there in less than- MOTHERFUCKPUMPERNICKLE!"

If there were a better phrase to have been said, Alucard wouldn't have known it. As if from nowhere, a Crown Vic shot from a side street, actually getting air on the uptake, and smashed straight into the front left of the Firebird. The car skidded off the road, disappearing into a ditch somewhere, as the Firebird skirted off to the right, ending up in someone's front yard. The front end smashed into a tree, making the car spin around at high speeds. They finally came to a stop looking out at the road from someone else's lawn. The engine had died.

Something had struck his head... a piece of the other car... and he was having trouble seeing straight. His eyes suddenly felt dry, his eyelids heavy. He closed them for only a moment, and suddenly, the nightmare returned.

Finally, he had made himself powerful enough that no one would dare betray him... not again. But now, no one was beside him anymore, further confirming his fear, that he had always been meant for loneliness. So he fought, and ravaged, and ripped and tore, until there was nothing left at the end save a very angry Dutchman.

"Vampire King", he said, and once again, the nightmare that never was but should have been played out for him.

"You lay upon the blood-soaked dirt of your ruined kingdom. Castles plundered, servants destroyed, all to end the Hell-fire with which you sought to cover the world."

As he listed the casualty rates, Alucard pleaded with him in his mind.

Abraham, you know me, you know my heart. Please, not again.

"...and over twenty thousand impaled and prostrated by you and you alone to strike terror into the hearts of mortal men!"

No, Abraham, you know why I did it. I had to stop the Turks. The only language they speak is violence. Had I not shown them Hell on Earth, they would have shown it to my land. To my people. To me, again.

"What say you, devil, demon, monster, conceived by the bleakest womb, WHAT SAY YOU NOW?!"

I'm sorry. I just wanted to trust again.

"I say this from the bottom of my heart", he told him instead, "eat my entire ass."

Abraham scowled, and rammed the sword through his chest.

Alucard gasped, waking up from the horrible nightmare that plagued his sleep. The scene was exactly how he had left it. He couldn't have been out for more than a few seconds.

Alucard looked to his left, examining the slumped form of Anderson. A piece of jagged metal, probably from the other car, had embedded itself into the side of his head. His eyes had glassed over, and his tongue had rolled out of his mouth.

Alexander Anderson was dead.

Alucard turned towards the back seat, where the other three occupants sat.

"Post Malone", Alucard called to the Southerner, who was rubbing his head, and twisting his neck to work out pains, "still alive back there?"

"And kickin' sir", he called back.

"How's the Police Girl?"

Six Gun looked over at the diminutive vampire, who was currently staring up at the ceiling. He gently tapped her shoulder. After a moment, her eyes fluttered in his direction, then went right back to staring up at the ceiling.

"Mrs. Police Girl, ma'am", he courteously called out.

"Funny", she said gently, "there aren't any stars out tonight."

"Not good, sir."

"Fuckballs", Alucard cursed.

"Don't move", someone shouted from the driver's side.

Alucard turned to see a SWAT guy tactically making his way up towards the car. He held in his hands one of those AR-15's, stylized like an M16, though without the option to produce bursts. He slowly advanced on the driver's side, his rifle leveled on Alucard.

He made his way slowly up to the car, his rifle not quite pointing at Alucard. He leaned in the shattered window, pulling the barrel of his rifle back so that it couldn't be easily grabbed. He leaned around Anderson's unmoving form, checking the backseat, and sweeping the occupants with his rifle.

His radio crackled, and Alucard, with his vampire hearin', heard someone ask, "We got him?"

The man grabbed his radio, his eyes falling on Alucard, and replied, "10-4, we got him."

Suddenly, Anderson's hand reached up towards the chunk of metal in his head. He ripped it out violently, and lunged after the SWAT man, pushing it through his abdomen, the shard easily slicing through his kevlar. The man yelped, and turned, sprinting back towards his SUV.

"Fook you, motherfooker", Anderson shouted after him, "coom back here so's I can fookin' kell yer fookin' arse!"

"Anderson", Alucard questioned.

"Recognized the voice", Anderson explained nonchalantly, as he moved his hand towards the ignition switch, "these guys aren't cops."

With that, he turned the key, getting a few weak coughs from the engine. He frowned, turning the key again. This time, the engine had a few more things to say, giving off a bit more enthusiasm.

"We need to go", Alucard told Anderson, "Police Girl isn't doing well."

"Yar, yar", he said, as the last of his head wound closed up, "yer big titty assistant needs some medical attention, I need some mechanical attention, the other woman needs some hygiene attention, that guy from Texas needs some school attention, and you need some bleedin' psychological attention, it looks like everyone's parents abandoned them here."

"I mean, you're not wrong", Alucard told him, as the engine began an upwards climb in the pitch of its coughing, "I just wish you'd prioritize the kids and me over your crippling haggis addiction."

"Like I've said before, love", Anderson said nonchalantly, as the engine roared back to life, "when daddy's at work, daddy needs to focus."

"What the fuck kind of relationship-", Pip began, but was interrupted by the engine revving.

Anderson shifted down to first gear, and floored it, causing the tires to spin, as the squad cars all sprang to life, attempting to surround the crippled Firebird. Anderson dropped the clutch, and the car shot forward, swerving into the road, and shooting off towards the church. The squad cars followed closely behind, their lights and sirens no longer going off.

The car began making hissing noises, and Anderson, in confusion, poked his head out the window, looking at the engine. His hair whipped around his head as he grumbled, and resituated himself inside.

"Bad news", he told Alucard. "We're leaking coolant. At this rate, we'll be long out before we reach the church."

"That's bad why?"

"We run out of coolant and have to use the boost", he explained, "the engine will be irreparable."

"And that pertains to the immediate situation how?"

"I kinda like this bloody car", Anderson complained, stepping on the gas.

The cars once again flew from the side roads, but now Anderson was ready for them, swerving hard to avoid them. The action threw the occupants throughout the cabin, but it left them all mostly intact. While all of this transpired, Seras tugged on Pip's arm once again.

He looked over at her, observing the state she was in. Beads of sweat were forming on her forehead, but she still maintained a half-smile on her face, her eyes half-lidded as well. She looked like she might pass out any moment.

"Pip", she asked, "do you think the stars are so pretty because they like us?"

"Uh, sure", Pip told her, doing his best to pretend that what she had just said made any sense. He called up to the front, saying, "She's not doing well! Move, move!"

"Fook off", Anderson yelled back, swerving around another flying Crown Vic. "You try an' drive this absolute clusterfook of a bleedin' excuse for a Mario level an' I'll tell you ta bloody MOVE!"

Within seconds, the church was in sight.

"Fuck it", Alucard said, and hit the last boost.

Anderson, not ready for the sudden jerk at all, almost lost control of the car, careening them into the parking lot, and putting the car into a tailspin just to try and slow them down. As soon as they were through, a group of robed Catholics put a large iron bar down over the entrance, forcing the police vehicles to stop in their tracks, making a few of them ram into each other.

When the crippled Firebird finally came to a stop, Anderson looked just about relieved. For a moment, nobody moved, everyone trying to process that they were now safe. Anderson patted the steering wheel of the Firebird, giving it praise even though it had cut itself off.

Then the engine caught on fire.

"Shite", Anderson said. "EVERYBODY OUT!"

Alucard and Anderson both bailed out of their respective sides like they were jumping off a boat to go snorkeling. Six Gun grabbed his shotgun, and leapt out of the car quickly. Pip turned to open his door, but Seras tugged on his shoulder again. He turned around to see that half-lidded half-smile expression again.

"Where are we, Pip", she asked him in a drowsy voice. "Are the beds soft here? I'm ok with being anywhere as long as the beds are soft."

"Merde", Pip breathed, wondering what he was going to do about the Police Girl.

He tapped her shoulder, and pointed behind her, saying, "Look, uh... ice cream!"

"Ooh, what flavor", Seras asked as she turned around to look out of the window.

Pip hooked his arms underneath her armpits, and began pulling her out of the side of the car, mumbling a sorry. She yelped at first, but after a second or two, it was like she didn't mind anymore. As her body, which was surprisingly heavy, passed from the threshold of the car, her eyes landed on the night sky.

"Look, Pip", she said, as Pip continued dragging her away, "stars! Aren't they so pre-"

The car exploded.

The brilliant flash lit up the night sky.

The heat radiated like sticking a hand on the hot irons of an oven.

"ME CAR", Anderson shouted in exasperation.

"MY RIFLE", Pip shouted out of demoralization.

"MY JAMS", Alucard shouted in despair.

"MY EYES! SOMEONE TOOK MY EYES", Seras screamed in confusion, covering her face with her hands.

By now, the "cops" had dismounted, and a few of them had begun engaging in a serious discourse with the Catholic guards at the gate. Alucard walked over to Pip, and pushed him away from Seras with a single hand, merely asserting dominance. Before he could protest, Alucard had bent down and scooped Seras up into a Fireman's Carry.

"We can mourn our losses later", Alucard told the intrepid crew. "For now, let's make sure we don't add another to the list."

Alucard and Anderson sprinted for the front door, with the two Mercs trailing behind them. The doors to the church opened before them, and light spilled out, revealing lots of guns in their faces.