Hellsing: Final Judgment

by Kwonkicker

A mysterious and sinister cult, moves forward with their plan of subjugating the human race in bondage and establishing a New World Order. All of the Hellsing and DMC verse must band togehter to stop them.

55. Epilogue Part I: 15 Years Later

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Haven't forgotten nor given up on this story. This epilogue has proven incredibly difficult. Not just as a writer, but emotionally as well. It's honestly taken me months to truly feel satisfied with it. Thus, it will conclude in two chapters, rather than one long epilogue as I originally intended. Thank you all for your patience; I hope you won't be disappointed.

It's been so long in the making that I am beyond excited to see this story conclude. I am also thrilled that there are still so many readers and fans who enjoyed it. Thank you again for all the support throughout the years. All your praise, critiques, reviews have meant so much to me. Thanks especially to those few who reached out in my absence. Without further ado, here we go.

It's been 15 years since the war against Klaus. The former leader and enemy against humanity is dead. His armies and forces destroyed, his followers and fanatic supporters have either been captured or eliminated. Most notably, the Demon World remained sealed, with Michael still trapped in it. The world has again been saved, and peace returned to mankind.

Or so some would think.

Danger again begins to move in the dark and powerful evil forces are at work. There has been a drastic uptick in demonic activity, with large concentrations of it being focused in major urban cities across the world. Whispers of an all-too familiar demonic force rising from the grave. What is this new threat? Who is responsible for it? Can our heroes put a stop to it?

A chance encounter will again bring a unified front of Hellsing, Devil May Cry, Iscariot, the Nightstalkers, the Order of the Cross and others. There is a war coming. And it's threatening everything our heroes hold dear. Can they stave it off?

Thank you for reading. Enjoy!

Chapter Fifty-Five- Epilogue Part I: 15 Years Later

In the beginning there was a sea of darkness. A crucible of chaos. A vortex of malice and strife. From this single coalescence arose the very first of the demonic apparitions who would one day call the Demon World home. Like the stars of the heavens, the demons were bountiful. Even more numerous still were the holy and elect of the heavenly realm. The Sons of God who served as his sacred messengers and leaders of the armies of Heaven.

When Satan rebelled, and 1/3 of the heavenly hosts fell from grace, the demons were likewise banished into the world of darkness.

Amidst this sea of chaos, the Human and Demon Worlds were locked in bitter conflict for countless millennia. Until one day a great, black-horned demon god arose to power and took for himself lordship over the dark. He raised forth a great spear in a bid to separate man from demon. Thrice his spear struck the earth until a portal was formed, separating the two worlds and ensuring prosperity and peace.

The demon, calling itself Mao, established himself as ruler and king of the Demon World. Two thousand years later, a fearsome devil prince called Mundus was born deep in the pits of the Demon World as it snowed in the human realm. Mundus coveted the power of the throne for himself. Using the power gained from the divine fruit of the Qliphoth, Mundus arose to power and in doing so slew Mao and took the throne for himself. With an army at his command, Mundus undid the veil between the mortal and demonic, and plunged humanity into darkness.

"The worlds were once united as one, so why not again?"

However, Mundus was betrayed by his greatest general. The demonic swordsman, Sparda. The demon knight defeated the dark lord and his armies and sealed away their evil using his own power and the blood of a priestess.

Now, the veil is again splintered. Mao bore himself a son, Morax the Destroyer. The conqueror of virtually every demonic plane and realm. Morax's powers were sealed by Sparda, but not before the young prince gave dire warnings of his return to power.

"I will reclaim what is mine."

It's the year 2030. The world at large has returned to normal. Human existence and flourishing back to what it was before Klaus and LOD made their presence known. Back before Klaus so boldly and brazenly declared to the entire world that monsters and demons existed. Back before Klaus, proclaiming himself the Master of Death, unleashed his vicious and unholy legion on cities across the globe. Striking in Russia, then in New York, crippling both locations. Back before the mere notion of a secret world of vampires, demons, goblins, beasts and exorcisms would have been met with scorn and derision. Supernatural monsters? Secret government funded organizations that hunted them? Fuck right off.

But the public wasn't entirely ignorant, with many digging deeper and discovering the hidden truth. Those who knew the truth rested peacefully for the past 15 years.

Klaus was dead. Theokoles was dead. And the world was a safer place because of it. And it was thanks to several forces and factions.

First off, Her Majesty's Royal Order of Protestant Knights. Otherwise known as the Hellsing Organization. The group, now run by an older, more seasoned Integra Hellsing, continued its mission and goal since its inception centuries ago: Defend the British monarchy from all Satanic threats and defend both the Crown and Church of England. The Hellsing mostly specialized in dealing with the threat of the vampire. At Integra's side, were her two faithful vampire attendants and servants. Alucard and Seras. Alucard being the hidden name and identity for the Lord of all Vampires; Count Dracula himself. In the last 15 years, Hellsing has continued defending the British empire and society; the Round Table in particular growing in power and influence, able to suppress the knowledge of vampiric forces.

In Russia, the Order of the Cross, a sub-division of the highest echelon of the Russian government, in co-operation with the Orthodox Church. For over two centuries it has been led by the Sokolov family. Founded by Vitali Sokolov, they have guarded, defended, and protected all Russian territories from dangerous malevolent supernatural forces. Like Hellsing, the Order employed the use of powerful monsters in their war against the forces of darkness. The Werewolf in particular. Currently, the Order made use of a pack of Werewolves, some of the strongest in the world. Vladimir Sokolov, the current heir and leader, has grown his forces in both strength and numbers, making the Order the most powerful and formidable it's ever been.

The United States had its own secret forces combating evil. The Nightstalkers, a secret division of the FBI which monitored and eliminated dangerous supernatural threats. The agency was still run and led by the beautiful and talented Rosette Smith (nee Cristobel). The agency had been monitoring the rising tide of demonic activity for the past 15 years, at several points sending its agents to contend with and eliminate these threats. There were others, even more hidden. The mercenary Dante, Son of Sparda and his agency Devil May Cry. Nero, likewise, a formidable and powerful devil slayer had joined up, forming a second branch of the group. Dante and Nero were joined by fellow demon hunters Trish, Lady and even Lucia. Most surprisingly, the Black Hand, former criminals of the Demon World, joined up with Nero's secondary branch of Devil May Cry.

Other factions fought against dark forces but did so more for monetary gains rather than compassion and devotion to humankind. There was also the Salvatore Brothers; pure-blooded Werewolves who were mercenaries and contract killers-for-hire. Lucian Salvatore, one of the oldest, most powerful and feared wolves alive along with his younger brothers Ramone, Jason and Jacob. The Salvatore Brothers would fight anyone or anything at the drop of a dime, or for the highest bidder. While driven by money, they would also fight and defend the weak from oppressive forces if need be. In a sense, you could also rely on them.

The world was still a dangerous place. Even years after Klaus' defeat, there were still dangerous plots brewing.

In London...

The man entered the tidy and cozy penthouse suite. He shut the door behind him, removing his tie and suit jacket. Tossing both items on the nearest chair, he made his way over to the mini bar, immediately fixing himself a stiff drink. For the amount of money, he was paying for this room, he was going to enjoy every luxury and comfort. He opened a bottle of scotch, poured himself a drink. He chugged it, then poured a refill, this time taking more measured sips. He was on his third drink when the door knocked. He glanced over his shoulder, smirked, then said, "Come in."

The door opened and in walked two stunningly beautiful and alluring women. Both brunettes with pixie-cut hair, wearing long heavy coats. The women smiled, shutting and locking the door behind them as they slowly approached, speaking in sultry voices.

"Mr. Spence. Are you ready?"

Spencer Wilmington, age 48, was a broker in Westminster. Although married to his lovely wife Heidi of 17 years, the middle-aged man wanted to explore more daring and liberating areas of his libido. What better way than arranging a meeting with two of the absolute finest escorts that money could buy?

He was a stout and short man, barely 5'2 with salt and pepper hair messily styled with gel. His suit was ill fitting; clinging to his lumpier areas in unsightly ways. With a sneer, he set down his glass and said, "Yes indeed my dears. I must say, when I called your agency to set up this arrangement, I requested only the finest and most beautiful girls. I do say they have more than delivered. Shall we?"

Both girls immediately disrobed, revealing tight and toned figures, comparable to even the finest runway model. They were revealing lingerie, hugging their curves in just the right places complimented by stylish heels.

Spencer likewise undressed, although his lumpy and wrinkled body left more to be desired. The two women did not seem to mind, taking turns slowly encircling the man. One girl leaned in, kissing and nibbling on his ear lobe. Her partner caressed from behind. Spencer then got an eyeful as the two gently kissed.

"So tell us, how do you want it? Rough? Gentle? Bondage? We are all yours."

Spencer moved to the bed, now down to his briefs. His flabby belly hanging over as he began stroking himself.

"Dance. I want you two to dance while I watch." He spoke. The women giggled and obliged, gyrating while he hit the radio and began playing music. So engrossed in his lust and passion, he didn't notice the window to the suit open, bringing in a drought of air. Nor did he seem to notice the shadow forming in the corner of the room. Not until the 'shadow' took the shape of a man. A tall man, dressed in Victorian-era clothing complete with a charcoal-colored suit, a red coat and fedora. The man wore wire-framed glasses hiding piercing crimson eyes. He grinned, revealing sharp canine teeth.

Spencer had now leaned back unto the bed, watching with glee as one of the girls slid his trousers down, taking hold of his erect member and began mouthing him. He glanced over, seeing the shadow-man grinning. With a shout, he removed himself from her mouth, kicked her aside in fear and clumsiness and fell off the bed.

"What?! Who are you?!" he stammered. The women suddenly hissed, turning to face this intruder who chuckled and reached into his jacket, pulling out the biggest handgun he had ever seen.

"Cromwell Restriction Activated. Situation C. Keeping power in limited release until the targets are silenced. Confirm your approval."

The two call girls screeched, their visages transforming to reveal their own crimson eyes, fangs and nails forming sharp claws. They charged forward, only to be blasted into utter smithereens by the man's impressive firearm. Blood pooled while their bodies crumbled to ashes. Smoke hissing off the barrel from the discharge. The man chuckled and tucked his firearm away.

"Target eliminated. Keeping power in limited release until all targets are rendered silent. Do you confirm, Seras Victoria?"

"Yes"

Alucard smirked and then turned to exit. He cast a curious glance towards Spencer. The man, trembling with fear, now urinated on himself. Alucard shook his head then walked out of the room leaving behind his carnage.

"Took two out. According to our reports we should be expecting at least seven more in this hotel alone. They're here. I can smell them."

Although speaking out loud, Alucard also directed his thoughts to his progeny, Seras Victoria. She confirmed her understanding.

"Sir, my master. How do you want to draw them out?"

Alucard sneered, his fangs growing as he then said, "Let's make this more entertaining. Seras, bring in the team."

The team. The recently formed strike and assault team under the command and control of Hellsing. Formed in recent years due to the rising threats facing England. The team, or more formally, "FANG", was composed of several ex-members of British military. They were the best of the best, equipped with the best in anti-vampire weaponry and technology.

Like Alucard and Seras, the team reported directly to and were under the control of Sir Integra Hellsing. In the field, command shifted to their senior agent, a man by the name of Brock. He was former SAS, having served on dozens upon dozens of high-risk missions typically involving kill-or-capture targets. Brock was quite literally, one of the most dangerous men walking around London.

Hellsing's strike team entered the main lobby of the hotel. Patrons and staff alike instantly disturbed and unnerved at the sight of over three-dozen heavily armed men in tactical combat gear spreading about, barking commands and ordering patrons to either abandon the hotel or move out of the way. At the forefront was Brock, directing orders to his subordinates.

"Close off the main entrance. Get this lobby under our control. No one in or out until we have the situation contained. This is now officially under the control of her Majesty's Protestant Knights!" he shouted. Brock turned to see the hotel manager swiftly approaching. The man seemed annoyed, his head sweaty and red with anger. He pointed a chubby finger at Brock and said, "Excuse me, I am the general manager of this fine hotel, and I will NOT have some damned thugs harassing my clients. Just who the hell do you think you are?!"

He then spread his hands on his hips. A moment later, he regretted his tone.

Brock stood a good 6'1. Even through the dark tan and black colors of his fatigues and tactical gear, he had a physique that was no doubt hardened by years of physical fitness and combat. Bulging muscles pressed tightly against his uniform. The man's head looked like it was chiseled from solid granite; he wore a bandana tied around his head. He had piercing and stern light brown eyes which complimented his otherwise creamy and fair skin. Brock was middle-aged, around 43-years-old, but he had the strength, vitality, presence and fitness of men half his age.

Brock pointed at the hotel manager. The manager flinched. Brock smirked and said, "Listen, unless you want every single one of the paying customers to end up in a morgue, you'll do as we command. We are under orders from Her Majesty herself. Don't get in my way."

"Now Brock, no need for such hostility."

Brock instantly stiffened. He turned to the source of the voice, straightened his posture, raised a hand in a salute and said, "Pardon me if I spoke out of term, Madam Hellsing, I did not mean to overstep my boundaries."

All the men of the strike team instantly stood at attention as Integra Hellsing entered the hotel lobby. Her long coat draping her shoulders, she carried her saber at her waist, a lit cigar in her mouth. 15 years later, Integra still carried a confident and regal air of authority about her. Older, wiser, more experienced, Integra hadn't changed much in terms of physical appearance. She maintained her slender figure and her long golden locks.

Integra puffed, blew on the cigar and then said, "Apology accepted. I trust our forces are preparing their offense?"

"Yes, madam, of course." Brock answered.

"Good, then let's assess the situation commander. Our intel reports that this hotel is currently occupied by seven more vampires. They've no doubt detected Alucard and Seras' presence. I doubt they'll go for a full confrontation. They'll hide and try to launch a surprise. How best for us to flush them out?" Integra said, walking past a bewildered hotel manager with Brock in tow.

"We can have the team split into squadrons, each do a floor sweep, go door to door. But of course, that'd take too long." Brock said folding his arms.

"Allow me to draw them out"

Alucard suddenly phased through one of the hotel walls, grinning ear to ear. He walked over, removing his fedora hat as he gave Integra a slight bow. He smirked and said, "Seras is chomping at the bit. She's so elegant and singular these days. Truly a remarkable creature she has become. Give us our orders, my master. What shall we do? Wipe them from the face of the earth?"

Brock chuckled, having grown quite used to Alucard's mannerisms in the past fifteen years. Integra as always, puffed from her cigar and said, "Begin a search and destroy, my servant. You will find these abominations, put a bullet in their hearts and scatter the ashes. Go forth in the name of God and Her Majesty."

Alucard sneered, laughing as he walked past. His eyes roamed from each of the Hellsing agents, most of whom gave the vampire count a subtle nod of acknowledgement.

Alucard spread both his hands low, his voice echoing. "Now Releasing Control Art Restriction System to Level 5. Situation C. Approval for limited release has been confirmed."

As Alucard's arms spread, the room shifted, turning into a blood red backdrop with no visible end in sight. Some of the guards briefly panicked, but a shout from Brock forced everyone to hold their nerves. Integra merely smirked, arms folded as she calmly stood. Alucard's power release brought about a darkness that swallowed and engulfed the entire hotel, all the way to the penthouse suites, allowing not just his presence to be felt, but to draw any other unholy creatures into his midst.

And it worked, within moments, the seven vampires emerged from darkness, ambling towards the vampire count. They had blood-stained lips and fingertips, no doubt having just recently fed. One, a voluptuous red head hissed as she bared her fangs.

"Who the fuck are you lot?!" she screeched.

Her answer came in the form of a bullet to her skull, exploding her head in gory fashion as her body crumbled away to dust. The rest of the vampires were likewise set upon by the Hellsing agents, who opened fire with their rifles, killing all but one who, in a panic, attempted to charge toward Integra herself. The Hellsing commander did not even acknowledge the threat. The vampire was seized mid-air by Seras, who promptly ripped off its legs and arms, leaving it a bloodied stump as the vampire hollered in pain.

Seras sneered in sadistic fashion; a splash of blood hit her cheek, she promptly licked it up and bore her own fangs. She stomped her opponent on the head; the vampire, a middle aged man again howled in pain and whimpered, blood pooling out his wounds.

Alucard dispersed the spell, turning the environment back to normal. Integra scoffed, tossing her cigar away and swiftly turning on her heel.

"Have all security forces conduct a thorough sweep of the hotel. I want every room, every guest, every crevice sufficiently examined. Make sure not a trace of these abominations is left alive. You are to report back to headquarters upon completion. Am I understood?"

"Ma'am!" the Hellsing agents replied and immediately went to work. Brock saluted Integra, then bobbed his head to their wounded prey.

"This one we keep. We're going to interrogate him. Find out what he knows."

"And if he doesn't, Sir Integra?" Brock asked. Behind him, Alucard chuckled and said, "I'm getting a bit hungry."

Integra turned away, hiding a smirk.

Hours later, back at Hellsing headquarters, the vampire in question was subjected to round after round of interrogation. Integra observed as Brock, two of his best lieutenants, Alucard and Seras hounded the wounded blood sucker. The vampire was bound in priestly cloth and linen, wrapped tightly around its bloodied and bruised body. Bible inscriptions were nailed to his body, preventing any regeneration or use of darker powers. The interrogation cell was in the lowest level of the Hellsing manor, in a specially vaulted room that had been recently blessed by an Anglican priest.

Brock stood in front of the fiend, a bottle of anointed oil in one hand. He frowned, glancing at Integra who remained resolute and stoic, as always. He glanced at Alucard, who smirked, then to Seras, who shrugged.

"We keep this up we might as well just kill him. What's your order, ma'am?" he asked Integra who walked forward. She gestured with her hand, taking the bottle from him. She spread the oil in the sign of the Cross on her forehead, then did the same to the vampire. The blessed substance caused horrible burns on his body as he howled.

"I can end this, you know. Just tell us who is organizing these occurrences."

He looked at her, pain, fear, and hatred boiling in his eyes. Integra then said, "We know something is stirring this rise in demonic occurrences. Some Satanic force greater than any we've faced. Something which is targeting English territories. Why? Why is this entity so set against the Crown? Who is it that is gathering these powers at be? Answer!" Integra shouted as she doused the vampire with the oil, steam hissing off its body as the substance caused caustic damage. The vampire howled and rocked in its chair. Brock and his men had weapons trained, just in case.

The vampire, whimpering, dropped its head low. After a few moments it began mumbling incoherent wording. It raised its pitch, then said,

"Hail, Paimon."

Integra's eyes widened; Paimon. The name was first mentioned 15 years ago during a Round Table conference. The name of an archdemon, one of the Princes of Hell commissioned directly under Satan. A demon of terrible power who has personal animosity to English patrons.

The vampire's eyes widened, turning from the typical crimson to jet black, retaining burning orange pupils. He grinned, exposing wicked fangs and teeth. His voice altered; booming and echoing in a much deeper pitch. He tossed his head back, cackling and then spat to the floor.

"You really are a persnickety little bitch you know that?! You Anglican whores always poking and prodding!"

Integra narrowed her eyes. Seras glanced first to Alucard, then to her mistress.

"Who the fuck are you?" Brock spat. The vampire glanced, sneered and then licked his lips.

"I am the one who dwells within. You think your little miracle oil scares me?! I was born of toads, worms, vermin and maggots. Agony is where I delight!"

The vampire then took the next horrifying step: It craned and twisted its neck completely in a 180 degree spin, snapping and popping bones and joints. Integra folded her arms; her stone-cold resolve not so easily swayed these days. Alucard watched with growing boredom.

With its neck completely twisted, the vampire wheezed a wicked laugh and snapped its head and neck back into proper alignment.

"Know this. I'm coming for all of you. England will burn, her men will die at arms and her women and children will be food for the armies of Hell. Prepare yourselves for...his...return...Morax...the Destroyer"

Immediately, the Vampire's body was engulfed in violet-colored flames which burned and immolated the beast into smoldering ashes, causing Integra and others to jump back, although Seras was instantly in front, to shield her. The flames burned the vampire to cinder, the smell was revolting. Alucard whistled then said, "Like old times past, huh, my master?" he sneered.

Integra growled, then folded her arms. "Morax...the Destroyer. God what did we stumble upon?"

"Ma'am, your orders?" Brock pressed. Integra snorted, then turned to the leader of her security forces. "Captain, I want all our forces placed on high alert. Her Majesty is to be placed into protective custody until the situation is remedied. No exceptions. If you run into any hostility, then they will have to answer directly to me."

"As you command Sir Integra" Brock gave a slight bow, then exited the interrogation room.

"Seras, contact our affiliates in both the Vatican and to our friends around the world. Have them remain alert as well. If this enemy is threatening England, she mostly likely is not the only target. I fear this may be yet another prelude of things to come." Integra stated strongly.

"Right of course!" Seras said phasing out of the room. Alucard remained, gazing at the still simmering and smoldering remains of the vampire. Integra noticed his gaze.

"Something wrong, my servant?"

Alucard's crimson eyes flashed; a frown appeared across his face. He huffed, turned his back and then simply phased out of the room. Perhaps to join up with Seras. Perhaps retreating to his chambers. Integra could never be entirely sure what went through his mind. Even after all these years ruling as his master.

Integra returned to her own office, working late into the evening. It was approaching 2 am. Her computer monitor pulled up file after file. She clicked on one link, and then the next, and the next. A half cigar resting between two fingers of her free hand. She brought it to her lips, puffed, then stamped it out. She exhaled through her nostrils, reading the file brought up on her screen. It was a report made by British intelligence services based on information supplied by the Vatican. Iscariot was tracking and monitoring the rise in demonic attacks on civilians. For the past six months, they've been sending out more of their black-ops units to investigate, and if necessary, erase any trace of these attacks from prying eyes. But it was the nature of these attacks which struck Integra's attention.

"In majority of the incidents reported, the demon forces at work all answered to a single, higher name. Paimon. Iscariot reports that after sending in their top exorcists, the demonic forces would scatter, only to return with a nearly ten-fold increase in strength. An investigation conducted at this time also revealed that the locations of many of these incidents were in, or near major landmarks of early Christendom in Europe. From towns, villages and churches and monasteries. The most disturbing of these was an abbey located in Northern Ireland. A sudden influx of demonic activity resulted in widespread possession, requiring the dispatchment of over three dozen of Iscariot's best demon slayers. In a later incident, it was discovered a small portal to the Underworld had been opened, allowing countless demonic apparitions to escape, threatening the survival of the abbey and nearby civilian residents. The Vatican, facing a potential invasion, called in a noted expert and specialist. The devil hunter Dante."

Integra's eyes widened. Dante was called in by Iscariot? Were these demonic attacks so serious?Also, the same name arose. Paimon.

Integra clicked on another file. It was sent by the British Evangelical Society. The PDF opened and the document loaded. It was a translation of the Pseudomonarchia Daemonum. It was an ancient and archaic text that listed in chronological order the alleged 69 demons which are directly under the control of Satan himself, serving as the various princes, rulers, dukes, and above all, kings of the demonic realm. The text was said to have first appeared in the Middle Ages; its authenticity remains dubious, with some scholars stating it was a fiction by the early church to scare and frighten parishioners into dutiful and faithful believing. Either way, the same name kept popping up. Integra refused to believe it a coincidence.

Paimon appeared as number two. According to the texts; Paimon was the second ranked king of Hell, the most obedient and dutiful of the higher order of demons who were fanatically devoted to Satan. Paimon commanded an untold legion of demons and wicked spirits. He was said to be a trickster and taunter; tormenting and tempting faithful worshippers into committing vulgar acts. Moreover, Paimon was said to be wage war against English and European saints and apostles, unleashing his own war against God across the isle.

Could it be that the demon responsible for the attacks in England could be Paimon? The vampire from this evening, it was undoubtedly possessed. Does Paimon possess such strength?

"But there was another name. Morax. Morax the Destroyer." Integra said quietly as she scrolled through the documents. The name popped up on her screen.

Morax. Also called Morax the Destroyer, is the chiefest of the 69 demons mentioned in the Lesser Key of Solomon and similar grimoires. Morax is believed to be an archdemon, both a prince, ruler, conqueror and king of the hellish realms with over 45 legions of demons in his command. In antiquity, Morax was a chief instigator in the spiritual realm. He opposes God and all his creation, bringing great corruption, temptation, ruin and destruction. 2000 years ago, Morax and the subsequent princes and rulers of Hell were banished to the demonic realm by the archangel Michael. Since that time, his spirit has remained ever potent, waiting for the day the seals could be broken and he be freed.

Integra stood from her desk, looking out at the evening sky. She had more questions than answers. Two demons were opposing England. Paimon the archdemon. Morax the Destroyer. Integra hadn't yet realized it, but a war was brewing unlike any ever before witnessed.

Meanwhile, on a playground in America

It was fast approaching 4pm. Most of the children were being picked up one by one by their respective caregivers. Mostly mothers, nannies and babysitters. Occasionally a father or two would pop up, greeting their child with enthusiastic hugs. A group of boys gathered by the swing set. There were five in total, all roughly the same age. They spent the last two hours doing what boys do; talking about monsters, guns, swords, comic books and the occasional dare. One boy, with light auburn hair, was the center of the talk.

"Come on, no way!"

"You're making that stuff up"

"Nope. It's the truth."

The boy crossed both arms, smirked with confidence and glanced at his playmates. He wore a dark blue T-shirt, jeans and red and blue sneakers with gold laces. His auburn hair was neatly combed, parted to one side framing his face. He had cool silvery blue colored eyes. Despite his youth, there was something far more mature in his manners. The other parents noticed as well.

"Everyone knows monsters don't exist!" said a blonde-haired boy.

"Yeah!" another chimed in. The boy with auburn hair then said, "I'm telling you they're real. My dad fights with them. Could take on a whole army."

Immediately, the boy's playmates laughed and dismissed his claims. He took no offense; these were his good friends, and he knew they meant well. The boy told his friends how his father is a mighty and powerful warrior; one of the strongest in the world. How he fought legions of monsters single-handedly. How his father used a giant sword that could burn anything away. Oh, and don't get the boy started on his dad's gun.

"No really, It shoots like a bajillion bullets! Like this, POW POW!" he said, aiming a pretend gun and squeezing the trigger. His friends laughed, one boy toppling over and holding his sides. So engrossed in their fun, he almost didn't notice his name being called.

"Caleb!"

Caleb froze, turned to see a man waving him down. He had white hair, wore a hooded dark blue jacket with a red shirt beneath and wore black combat pants complete with laced boots. The man's hair framed his face, slight bangs parted to one side. He was approaching mid-to-late thirties, with a nice goatee on his face. The man smiled and again called to his son.

"Come on! We gotta go! Your mother's got dinner cooking!"

Caleb jumped to his feet, waved goodbye to his friends, then sprinted and jumped into the loving arms of his father. His father picked his son up, spinning him around before placing him atop his shoulders as they walked away, exiting the playground.

"Had fun with your friends?" Nero asked. Caleb said, "Yeah, I was telling them about your monster stories."

Nero chuckled, despite himself. He and Kyrie frequently had to remind their son to be mindful of what he revealed to strangers. In their growing world of playdates and social engagements, Nero's line of work often came up. Usually, a well-meaning parent would ask about their profession. The reply was almost uniform: Kyrie stayed home to raise Caleb; Nero worked security gigs for big government officials. The money paid well, allowing Kyrie to make a comfortable home for their family.

"But dad, what's the point of doing all this really cool stuff if we can't brag about it?" Caleb asked. His line of reasoning was indicative of the naivety and innocence of youth. To him, his dad was the toughest and coolest guy around. Why shouldn't he brag that his father secretly hunted and killed big bad monsters at night?

"It's to keep you guys safe, remember? You'll understand as you get older Caleb." Nero said. His son, satisfied with that answer, let the matter go. They were almost home anyway.

In the last 15 years, life had taken remarkable turns for Nero and Kyrie. For starters, they married and began a family and a home life together. Few knew about their union; obviously Dante, Trish, Lady as well as their other allies and comrades. Dante insisted even on taking Nero out for a proper bachelor party. Nero politely turned the request down. Nero in turn flourished in his career as a devil hunter/monster slayer. Business was very successful, so to speak. Nero operated a secondary branch of Devil May Cry, taking on many of the same jobs and fighting the same foes as Dante did. Nero also maintained permanent partnerships with Lucia, who had since left her home of Via de Marlii, tagging along as his second-in-command. In addition, Roman and the Black Hand also joined in when an assignment proved big enough.

Nero, for the first time in his life, was also content. He was married to his childhood friend and now his lover, mate, companion and partner. Their union produced Caleb, now approaching 8-years of age. While Nero worked as a devil hunter, Kyrie managed an orphanage and children's center where she helped take care of dozens of abandoned youths. She developed a reputation due to her compassion and care. Nero was always proud of his wife.

Caleb was a remarkable young man. While he had his mother's hair, it was clearly styled after his father. He was kind and compassionate like Kyrie but could also be cocky and bold like Nero. When Kyrie was pregnant and first told Nero, he was overjoyed but also frightened. Nero grew up never knowing where he came from or who he belonged to. His adoptive parents in the form of Kyrie and Credo's mother and father provided him with love and a home. But there was always a part of him wanting to know where he belonged. Having a child only added to that. But with Kyrie's love (and surprisingly, Dante's encouragement) Nero cast aside any doubts. The result, he had a son and wife who he loved more fiercely than his own life. And they knew it.

Nero and his family still rented an apartment above the shop. It was now a modest and spacious two-bedroom. The boys entered the sight they always saw. Kyrie is busy tidying their home and cooking a meal. On impulse, Caleb ran into his mother's arms as she knelt to hug and kiss him. Caleb then talked about the afternoon he spent playing with his friends in the park. He notably left out the park about bragging about his father's true exploits. Nero hid a coy smirk, folding his arms.

"Go wash up, dinner will be ready in ten." Kyrie said chuckling as he sprinted off. Turning to Nero, she wrapped both arms around as they shared a kiss.

"Hi" she said.

"Hi" Nero replied and kissed her again.

"How was your day?" Kyrie asked, still staring into his eyes. Nero said, "Boring. Lot of clients calling in but not much coming by. I kinda get why Dante is in the mood he's in all the time. Guy sometimes goes a week without seeing any action."

Kyrie chuckled, kissed him again and then said, "Something will come through don't worry."

Kyrie turned to walk back to the kitchen. Nero went and gently pinched her on the butt as she squealed and turned to swipe at him, which he deftly avoided. She was still quite the beauty and Nero always made it known.

Their amorousness was interrupted by the ringing of the telephone. Nero swore, then went and swiped it off the receiver.

"City morgue" he replied dryly.

"Is this Nero?"

Nero froze; a prank call? Could be some lame brain trying to be funny. The voice was deep, powerful, but Nero didn't recognize it.

"No, this is the power company. Are you satisfied with your current subscription package?" Nero retorted.

"Do you want your family to die, Nero?"

Nero glanced over his shoulder. Kyrie was in the kitchen finishing dinner; Caleb was setting the table as he always did. Whoever this caller was, they were trying to rattle him.

"Listen, if you know my name then you know who I am. I don't rattle easily so let's cut to the chase. You looking to start a fight? Name the time and place." Nero said, his fist tightening.

The caller laughed, then said, "Empty threats from a man who will soon watch his family die. They're coming. They're coming because he is returning. You'll see soon enough, Son of the Dark Slayer."

The caller abruptly hung up. Nero set the phone down, bewildered. His bewilderment soon gave way to anger, his fist shaking fiercely. Someone making vague anonymous threats to his family? They clearly had a death wish.

"Dad?"

Nero turned to see Caleb standing there, smiling. Nero's heart warmed and he patted his son.

"Yeah?"

"Come on let's eat, I'm starved. Mom even said I could have second and thirds if I wanted!" Caleb turned and sat at the table, just as Kyrie brought out the last of the meal. Seeing his family warmed his heart. He knew nothing would happen to them. Because he wouldn't let it. Because he journeyed into the Demon World and made it back. Because Nero was much stronger now. Some in the know even whispered he had finally surpassed Dante. And Nero would always use that strength to defend his loved ones.

Nero smirked and said, "Hey, don't eat it all from your old man now!" and sat to join them.

Meanwile, in New York...

"I'm sorry, could you repeat that Miss..."

"Smith. Mrs. Smith if you must. Otherwise just call me Rosette."

Rosette Smith stood with both hands in her pockets, surrounded by a few of her best field agents, in a command post outside of the town of Bethpage, NY. She nodded, as one of the agents then grabbed his radio and began speaking with their additional units.

The town of Bethpage was a small hamlet on Long Island, with a total population of just over 15,000. Tonight, however, the town was under siege. Communication had been cut off for the past three hours. An unknown enemy swooped in, killing civilian and emergency personnel alike, before finally taking over the town square. Several policemen had already been killed. Naturally, the FBI was called in. But initial reports of monster sightings forced the Nightstalkers, lled by Rosette, to arrive on the scene.

Under her leadership, they quickly took command of the scene. Establishing a containment zone around key points of entry near the town square. Around 45 field agents were dispatched, all decked out in FBI riot and SWAT gear, whilst secretly armed with proper munitions to combat any unholy legion.

Rosette directed all agents to first make contact and identify just who or what their target was. Word came back over all official police channels: Vampires.

"You've got to be kidding me" the chief of police, a sour looking and portly man of around 60 said shaking his head, causing his chunky jowls to jiggle. He was surrounded by several of his own officers, each expressing their own disbelief. Rosette however was having none of it. She was here to do a job.

"Like I said, the target is a vampire. Based on the intel my agents have collected, we believe a single vampire has shut down the town square, killing and feeding off any who dare cross. By our estimates, there's probably close to two dozen Ghouls we'll have to deal with." Rosette said, hands still in her pockets. The faintest of smirks appeared as she watched the chief's expression.

"Look Miss..."

"Rosette"

"Look...Rosette. We appreciate the FBI's help, but there is no need for you people to be here. My officers are perfectly capable of handling a hostage situation. Furthermore, this monkey business of...vampires and ghouls is absurd! This is real life, not a Stephen King novel. So if you expect me to-"

The chief was surprised as Rosette cut him off. She raised one finger, pointed directly at him, and then proceeded to ream him out.

"How dare you even question our credentials. My credentials. You doubt who and what the Nightstalkers are? What would a pompous overpaid bureaucrat know about the matter? The Nightstalkers have served the public by being a secret and weaponized sect of the FBI with the goal of monitoring and eliminating all dangerous supernatural threats to the United States. We've been doing this for generations. If you need to, you can view our record including case closure rate, and personal accommodations by former President Linda McGuire. Let's not waste any more time chief, you need us. Your refusal to accept the truth is your problem. Now, I am going to direct my agents to begin handling this situation."

Rosette then grabbed her radio. "All units, any contact with the subject?"

"Negative."

"Any signs of the ghouls?"

"Again, negative. I don't like this. Our original intel suggested the vampire was in the main square. It might be hiding, drawing us in then unleashing the ghouls. Your orders, ma'am?"

Rosette glanced at the chief and his aids, who stared with those slack jawed stares most people gave when confronting reality.

"Send in Reggie's unit. Engage as necessary. Be safe gentleman."

"Copy that."

The chief again interjected, "This...this can't be. I heard the rumors...but still. You mean, they're real? Vampires and monsters that is?"

Rosette gave a silent prayer; thankful he was coming around. Good. That meant he wouldn't lead his people astray.

"Yes chief, they're real. There is a vampire in your town. A monster straight from the pit of Hell that sustains itself by drinking human blood. But even worse will be the ghouls." Rosette explained. Seeing their blank expressions, she sighed and continued her explanation.

"Vampires must feed and consume blood to sustain their powers. If a vampire drinks from a virgin of the opposite sex, and then has their victim consume their own blood, a new vampire will be sired. If a vampire drinks from a non-virgin, or from a virgin of the same gender, then instead of a new vampire you create a ghoul. Ghouls are re-animated corpses that are bound to their vampire lord who sired them. They're like zombies under the control of the vampire. Ghouls feed on human flesh, and where there is one vampire, there are sure to be scores of ghouls. They spread like cancer. It's imperative you allow my agents to contain this situation. We have the proper means."

At that moment, the sound of automatic gunfire broke out, including chatter over the radio.

"Contact! The ghouls are flooding into the town square!"

Rosette grabbed her radio as it squawked. "Talk to me agent, how many?"

"A little over two dozen, but we're dropping them fast!"

The chief turned to his aides, they both shrugged. Finally, one asked the obvious question. How do you kill a vampire? Or a ghoul?

"With garlic, silver or holy water. Stab it through the heart with a wooden stake. Cut off its head, burn the corpse and then scatter the ashes. Our agents use a combination of silver ammunition that has been thoroughly blessed. Burns them to ashes." Rosette explained.

The sound of gunfire continued for the next few moments. Rosette then clicked her radio. "Still no sign of the vampire?"

"Negative. Again, I don't like this. It should have appeared by now."

Rosette shared the agent's apprehension. The fact that the vampire in question was using an army of ghouls suggested it did not want to reveal itself. But why? Was there something special about Bethpage? Was there an underlying plot brewing?

Just then, her cell phone rang. She reached into her pocket, saw who was calling, smiled and flipped it open.

"Hi, baby"

"How's it going babe?" Dexter asked from the other line.

"Right now, we've got agents handling the ghouls. But something isn't right here Dex. This vampire is keeping a low profile. It's killed and fed, but why is it hiding? Is it plotting something? I don't like it." Rosette said beginning to pace.

"Hhm. Definitely sound suspicious. I would say, pull our main units back and have them quarantine the area. We can dispatch someone from my unit. We don't even know if it's only a single vampire. We don't need to fuel the chaos. Have your men stand down."

"Ok. How are things with your mission?" Rosette asked.

"We're about an hour away from the Canadian border. We've received intel that this thing is rampaging down south. Most of the homes and properties near its route have been evacuated but there are still some farmers in the area who refused to leave. It actually works for us, gives us the terrain."

"Any idea what this thing is yet?"

"No clue. I will say this though; it's not a Werewolf. Seth has been tracking it for three weeks. He says the scent and tracks are all wrong for a wolf. Whatever it is, it's big and hungry and it needs to be put down." Dexter said.

Rosette sighed and said, "Looks like we both have a long night ahead of us. By the way, who are you sending?"

"Gus" Dexter replied flatly.

Rosette felt her stomach flip flop. "Jesus Dexter, Gus? For this little job?"

"You said it yourself it could potentially be bigger than we anticipated. This is right up his alley. He'll be there within the hour." Dexter then chuckled and said, "You don't think he can handle it?"

"Dexter, I recruited him remember? I saw what he did down in Mexico City. I'd bet on him against an army of vampires. Just saying it might be overkill." Rosette said placing one hand on her hip.

"We'll know soon enough. We're almost at the scene babe. Stay safe, keep me updated. I love you."

"I love you more hubby, God be with you tonight. Come back home to me. Come back to the kids. That's an order, agent" Rosette chuckled.

Dexter laughed, then said, "Still bossy as ever. I'll make it back."

They both hung up. Rosette turned to see the bewildered expression on the chief's face. She smirked and said, "We're sending in one of our best specialists. Chief, your town is in the trustworthy hands of the Nightstalkers. We'll have the situation contained in less than two hours."

While Rosette awaited the arrival of the operative known as Gus, Dexter and a sizable contingency of Nightstalker agents had arrived at their point of contact, in the Iroquois National Refuge, just 40 miles away from the city of Buffalo. The Nightstalkers were assisting the local deputies in tracking down and destroying a vicious rampaging beast. For three months, hundreds of people have gone missing all along the New York-Canadian border, often in or around large forests and national parks. Body parts would show up indicating some type of animal had been killing and feeding. Based on witness reports from some of the survivors, the creature in question was some kind of fur covered beast.

And now, Dexter's squad were staked out at the edge of the reserve's territory, near the main access road which led to the next town. Three dozen agents, all armed to the teeth with high-powered weaponry lined in formation, staring out at the forest beyond. No one moved or uttered a word.

"All units, no sign of it yet. Do not fire until it clears the forest." Dexter clicked into his radio before tucking it away. He peered through the scope of his Sig-Sauer MCX, fully customized with extended magazine. The surrounding woods and forest were eerily silent save for the occasional cry of the nocturnal wildlife.

And then, the first of the inhuman roars bellowed from beyond the tree line. Immediately, all the agents tensed, training their weapons.

"Dex, you copy?"

"Go for Dexter"

"This is Bravo Team. Dex, this thing is no joke. It's a fucking monster. We managed to push it to you guys. When you see it, light it the fuck up."

Dexter snorted despite himself and turned his focus back to the forest. The trees swayed, branches snapped, the wind picked up. And from the darkness, Dexter finally made out two piercing red eyes staring with intense malice. And hunger.

The beast snorted twice, opened its mouth, bellowed and then burst forth from the trees with awful speed and ferocity, smashing to the ground and rearing to full height. It towered some 11 feet tall and was covered in moss-like shaggy dark brown colored fur with a lighter grey underbelly. Its forearms ended in meat-hook like talons, and it stood on powerful hind legs. The beast had a skull like maw, complete with elk-like antlers and a coiled tail. Worst of all, it had a putrid stench like rotting flesh.

Dexter felt his stomach flip-flop. He immediately shouted into his earpiece.

"Fire at will!"

All agents began firing. The beast wailed, its cry echoing through the forest as it sprinted forward directly into the hail of bullets. Agents began scattering, taking fire and cover when they could. Roaring, the beast swiped, beheading two agents in grisly fashion. It dashed around the field, swiping and ripping through any in its path.

"Damn it! Call in the chopper, get some heavy firepower down here quick!"

"Chopper is twenty minutes out! We won't make it til then!"

Dexter reloaded and then judged the scene. He had already lost almost a dozen men. Despite their immense firepower, the beast seemed immune to their munitions. Its body was riddled with bullet holes, yet it continued attacking. One agent met his end as the beast bit his head off. Dexter didn't like how the odds were turning. He took aim with his rifle and prepared to fire. Suddenly, he saw movement to his right, saw a tall figure clad in black sprint forward, remove a large sword and with one swing proceeded to cleave the beast's right arm off as it roared in pain and agony.

"You ok, Dex?"

Dexter smirked, recognizing this newcomer as his best friend and partner, Seth.

"You're late"

Seth flicked blood off his sword, waved his sword and promptly sheathed it. "Look man, this thing had me chasing it all along the border. I only just caught wind of it again because of all the blood. How many men are down?"

"Almost a dozen, a few more seriously wounded. Evac is on the way but it'll be some time. What the hell is this thing anyway?" Dexter asked. The beast roared, stomping its feet twice and staring down with Seth.

Seth sighed, then said, "It's a Wendigo. I've never actually seen one. Only heard about them in old legends and tales. When I first came to this country I spent some time with various native tribes. The Wendigo is an evil spirit possessing the body of a mortal person, who has succumbed to their most primal urges and engaged in willful cannibalism. It's a demon straight from Hell. And a tough one at that."

Dexter watched as the remaining agents regrouped, again taking fire as the Wendigo howled in pain and hunkered down.

Seth waved them off, "Won't work, only one way to kill a Wendigo. We must rip out its heart." Seth then began walking forward. He unstrapped his sword and set it behind him. He then spread his arms, his already sizeable muscles swelling.

"Stand down, leave this to Seth." Dexter commanded. Some of the agents looked questioningly; they heard the stories of Seth's numerous exploits. They knew of his nature as a monster. Many were new to the Nightstalkers and had never seen him in battle before. Dexter assured them they were in for the sight of their lives.

Seth's forest green eyes shifted to a vivid and pulsing golden amber color. His hair shifted in length and volume. With a ferocious grunt, a howl and then a roar of anger and fury, Seth leaped into the air into his Wereshifter state, landing back down with a thunderous bang as he sunk into the ground. The tattered and torn shreds of his clothing billowing down to the ground in the gentle breeze.

He now stood 13 feet tall. His body covered in dark brown fur, his back, legs and shoulders with black tiger stripes. He had a monkey-like prehensile long tail, sharp talons and claws, his fangs were two inches long and he had a bear-like snout. Steam hissed from his mouth as Seth roared and charged the Wendigo as the two beasts began a titanic battle, cracking and rumbling the earth in their wake.

Seth swiped with his claws; the Wendigo did the same. Both beasts causing grievous gashes and wounds. Unlike Wendigo, Seth's healing factor kicked in and closed all wounds virtually instantaneously. Seth swiped, gutting and disemboweling the Wendigo as it roared in pain, collapsing to its knees. Seth then roared, grabbing and twisting its other arm off and tossed it aside. He then tackled the beast. It bit and tore into his flank, Seth roared more from fury and slashed across its throat. Seth then began taking the next savage step and ruthlessly impaled the beast through the chest. Seth roared and in one gory motion, pulled the still beating heart out as blood poured like a geyser.

With a snort, Seth kicked the body aside as it twitched. He held the heart in his hand before dropping it. With a satisfied huff, he stepped back, turned, nodded to Dexter and back to Wendigo.

The Wendigo's body convulsed, and then began crumbling apart like cracked glass. The massive form soon crumbled into a steaming pile. Seth watched as the heart gave one final pump and then it too crumbled and withered away.

Seth roared, then settled down, shifting back into human form, now standing in front of Dexter and the other agents in ruined and tattered black pants.

"Contact HQ. We've contained the situation." Dexter directed one of his agents.

Seth glanced back towards the remains of the Wendigo. Something seemingly disturbed him, although he didn't let on to what that may be. With a huff he joined Dexter and the other agents as they prepared for their evac.

"Now that this thing is finally dead, I can head back home. Sucks being on the road for weeks at a time. I'm long overdue for a hot shower and a night in the sack with my smoking hot wife." Seth joked, a few agents chuckling.

"How is the pack doing these days?" Dexter asked.

"Fine. Well, as can be, given the circumstances." Seth said trailing off. In the past 15 years, Seth had formed his own pack of Werewolves. They mostly assisted the Nightstalkers in monitoring New York for dangerous threats. In recent months, Seth's pack has been at various conflicts with large packs of wolves from Canada. It always came down to border skirmishes. At one point, even Lucian Salvatore and his brothers helped.

"It's him, Dex. Rorschach. He's stirring all this nonsense up. But for what? Why now? It can't just be for conquering territories. New York is plenty big even for packs as large as the one he controls. Is he planning to make a move soon?" Seth asked, folding his arms.

Dexter said, "Well when we find out, we'll be ready, with a silver stake through his heart."

He held out his fist. Seth smirked and bumped into his own.

"Ride or die."

"Always."

At Devil May Cry...

The phone in the shop rang, first twice, and then repeatedly. No one answered for several minutes until finally a beautiful and petite woman with long flowing blonde hair picked up the receiver. She placed it in the crane of her neck while she returned to the task at hand, re-applying nail polish.

"Devil May Cry" Trish asked. She was sitting on the edge of the desk. Dante was nowhere in sight. Trish sighed and said, "Sorry, wrong password. Thanks, goodbye."

Trish hung the phone up and returned to her nails. Dante soon exited the bathroom, running his hands through his hair and styling it. The scent of masculine shampoo and body wash wafted through the shop. Dante was shirtless, his well-muscled body rippling as he walked and took his seat.

"Ew, put a shirt on, muscleman" Trish teased, still fussing over her nails. Dante chuckled and said, "Sorry, not as nice as your wolf buddy, huh?"

Trish cast a scathing glance towards him which made Dante sneer. Her golden locks framing her face as she turned away and huffed.

"Ramone is just a friend. That's all. He helps out sometimes with tough jobs. And I return the favor."

"That all you return?" Dante quipped. Lightning fast, Trish hurled a book at his head. Dante caught it, flipped it open, perused the contents and then set it down. He smirked and then said, "Hey, far be it from me to get all in your personal life. The heart wants what it wants. You two make a good couple."

While Dante and Trish bickered for another few minutes, the phone to the shop rang again. Dante snatched it from Trish and answered.

"Devil May Cry"

This time, it was the right password. Dante actually straightened in his seat causing Trish to glance curiously. Dante listened intently as the caller gave details. Moments later he hung the phone up and glanced at Trish. His expression was serious.

"A customer with the right password. They specifically requested this be a two-person job." Dante said. Trish blew on her nails, drying the polish. "Ok. You look concerned."

"They asked this be Nero and I."

Trish put down her polish, sliding off the desk and turning to face him. "The customer...knows about Nero? Hhm. Oddly suspicious, don't you think?"

Dante thought for a moment and then said, "No shit. Still, it is a big offer. They offered $10k upfront."

Trish didn't seem impressed. She implored Dante to be cautious. In the past 15 years, Dante and by extension Nero have both taken Devil May Cry to new heights. Both their names floated around in the underground. Everyone who was within the know, knew of their talent and exploits. Dante of course still carried the reputation of being the surviving Son of Sparda. Nero, now a powerful devil hunter in his own right carried a similar reputation. For the two of them to be summoned for a job could only mean one of two things. This was an extremely dangerous job, putting them against a devil of untold power. Or what Trish surmised.

It was a trap.

"Yeah but, by who? And for what?" Dante asked standing up and heading for his coat rack. Trish scoffed and said, "Could be someone still loyal to Klaus. We never did get all the names off of that ledger. Maybe someone trying to avenge Klau's defeat?"

Dante didn't buy it. He quickly tossed on a black short sleeved shirt. Adjusting the fit, he tossed his trademark red coat on, flapped the coat tails and smirked. "I say this sounds like one crazy party. Can I count on you to look over the shop?"

Trish rolled her eyes and said, "Just make sure you and Nero aren't running into anything serious."

Dante shrugged, reaching for his pistols and tucked them away. He then grabbed the guitar case holding Rebellion and headed for the door.

"Bye honey, I'm off to the market. Don't wait up!" he kicked the door open and exited the shop leaving an annoyed Trish who tossed her blonde locks back and took a seat at his chair. Trish flipped open a magazine and began reading. The phone would occasionally ring, each time it was a customer with the wrong password.

"How does he stand this? I'm falling asleep just thinking about it." Trish mused to herself tucking both hands behind her head. The doors to the shop opened. Trish looked up to see a tall and statuesque woman enter the shop, surrounded by armed escorts in neatly pressed black suits and matching ties. The woman removed her sunglasses, tucking them away and approached Trish.

"Where is Dante?" she asked.

It was Annette Dimitrov, the mysterious benefactor who supplied Dante with a large sum of capital for a seemingly nefarious assignment; to murder her father. Dante of course refused. That was until Annette disclosed that her father, a wealthy CEO of an international tech and bio-medical conglomerate, was plotting a dark ritual that would revive Mundus, the former Emperor of the Demon World.

Of course, that was 15 years ago. Dante investigated, but found no evidence that Mundus was being revived. As quickly as his investigation began, Annette's father died under mysterious circumstances and Dante abandoned the case, believing it to be a waste of time.

Through the years, however, Annette remained an important client, often supplying Dante with all sorts of odd jobs. Now, Annette was older, like Dante, roughly in her mid-forties. Still as gorgeous and attractive as ever. Still could tear up any fashion runway. She still maintained a rocking body and dressed in the trendiest fashions.

Trish didn't like her. And the feeling mutual.

"On a job." Trish answered simply. Annette said something foreign to one of her escorts who promptly pulled out a cell phone. The man handed it to Trish and stepped back.

"Call him back." Annette said. Trish stiffened, "He doesn't use cell phones. Believe it or not he's paranoid about the government tracking him down."

"You make time for jokes? When we're approaching a crisis?"

"Look, hun. Unlike Dante, I don't make jokes. Let's be clear; I don't like you. But more importantly, I don't trust you. There's something that you haven't been honest with us over the years. Giving Dante all those odd jobs. Being his secret benefactor. Lose the act."

Annette stiffened, staring Trish down. She sighed, folded her arms, and then said, "He's finally ready. He's ready to revive him."

"God not this again." Trish rolled her eyes.

"Listen to me! We got it wrong last time. I know Dante investigated it, but we were wrong. My father wasn't just going to revive Mundus. He's doing something a step further. Something no human has ever attempted. If he succeeds, the results will be too ghastly to imagine. Call Dante back, please!" Annette said.

"Like I said, he left for an assignment with Nero."

Annette's icy blue eyes widened. "What?! How long ago?!"

Trish finally stood from the desk and said, "What's going on? Why are you so frantic?"

"Because if Nero and Dante take this assignment, they're both going to die!"

In Russia...

Two guards stood outside the entrance of the warehouse, located on the outskirts of the city of Moscow. The men were armed with submachine pistols, decked in dark gray fatigues. The surrounding city street was quiet with very few patrons. Save for a lone male youth slowly approaching. The two guards sizing him up, taking note of the ornately decorated sword strapped to his hip and the black cape attached to his shoulders by gold pins.

The youth was perhaps no older than 15 or 16. Despite his age, he carried himself with the demeanor and experience of a man far older. He wore large and baggy black military pants tucked into black boots, Beneath his cape, he wore a fitting black short sleeved Henley shirt tucked into his pants. He wore fingerless gloves and sported a silver rosary around his neck. Despite the cape, he had serious musculature to his physique with notable biceps.

"Hey guys, think I could pop in for just a quick peak?" he asked innocently. His hands up in the air as if he were being detained. The guards glanced at one another then back to the youth, who maintained his innocent smile.

"Beat it" one said in a thick and heavy accent.

The youth smirked, folding his arms as he then said, "Nice accent. Georgia?"

The guards didn't respond.

"Never been. My grandfather did some mercenary work there. Nice country he said. I'll have to add it to my bucket list. Anywho, I really need to get inside. Think you can let me by, chief?" he asked again.

The guards responded by pointing their rifles.

"Oh, I see. Going down like that huh? Well sucks for you guys then, know why?"

The guards glanced at each other and back to the youth. He smiled, and said, "You let me get too close."

Guard #1 was disarmed before his finger could squeeze the trigger. Two jabs and a strike to the throat sent him to the ground in a heap. Guard #2 fared no better. The youth likewise disarmed, tripped his legs out, mounted and then chocked out the guard with a lapel squeeze as the man squirmed and then collapsed unconscious.

With a heavy sigh the youth stood to his feet and tapped his earpiece.

"This is Joseph, I'm now in position."

Moments later, a reply.

"Copy that sir, we are in position. Awaiting your orders."

Joseph Sokolov nodded and said, "All units move in. We have the element of surprise. The intel indicates this is his main weapons cache. We'll probably find the ledger detailing all his targets as well. Once we secure that, eliminate all in your path."

"As you command, Boss"

Joseph smirked and turned to the entrance. With a sigh he kicked in the door. The warehouse was massive, with at least four different levels, all filled with crates, boxes and various items. A massive computer console took center stage with dozens of workers around it.

Joseph watched as waves of armed guards approached, training their weapons on him. A tall man, clad in a long overcoat and wearing a top hat chuckled as he approached.

"Foolish boy. Is this what the Order of the Cross sends? A child?" he taunted. Joseph maintained a steely poker face. Moments later, a loud explosion rocked the warehouse. Glass was shattered as wave after wave of the Order's soldiers entered, beginning a massive firefight. Joseph quickly took cover, two soldiers covering him as they returned fire.

"All units advance, spread out! Make sure they don't leave with any of the cache" Joseph shouted. It was the start of an arduous battle.

"Kill them all! Feast on their flesh!" the man in the top hat shouted quickly ducking and avoiding gunfire. The guards surrounding him suddenly transformed, revealing themselves to be terrifying Werewolves. The wolves howled, dashing about the warehouse. One wolf slashed through a soldier, then tore through a second and third but not before finally succumbing to a hail of silver ammunition. The bullets burned and immolated through the wolf's body as it howled in agony, crumbling to the floor dead. Moments later, its body erupted in awesome bluish violet flames.

"The intel was right! We're dealing with wolves here!" one of the soldiers shouted, ducking behind a crate as he quickly ejected a spent magazine and loaded a fresh one. He returned fire on three of the wolves. A fourth loomed over him, preparing to slice him to ribbons with its fearsome talons. The wolf had its head violently cleaved off as it sailed through the air, landing to the floor. The rest of its body simmering from contact with a caustic substance.

Only it wasn't caustic. It was the famed Sokolov blade, passed through generations. It was formed centuries ago by Vitali Sokolov to combat the forces of darkness. When a true and proper heir wields it, the blade glows crimson red, able to cut away and destroy any supernatural beast.

Joseph waved the sword once and sprinted off, he cut down wolf after wolf, wielding his blade with a combination of dexterity and fierce martial artistry. Under Joseph's command, the Order was gaining ground.

"What the hell kind of boy is that?! We need to secure the ledger and get out of here!" one of the guards said. The man in the overcoat and top hat merely scoffed. He tossed his coat off, revealing a muscular building. He was wearing brown pants and carried a sword on his waist.

"Rorschach will not tolerate failure. We simply kill the boy and take his head back to his father."

Joseph found himself surrounded by about a dozen wolves. All baring fangs and teeth. His sword was held low, his body tense as he gazed around. Bullets continued whizzing in the air as his own forces continued fighting. The big man laughed and pointed.

"A boy should stay in a boy's place. The battlefield is no place for you. We'll make this quick so you can go home to daddy" he taunted. Joseph did not fret. Instead, he waved his sword once, quickly sheathing it and then folded his arms. The big man laughed and said, "Too bad. You had spunk kid, I give ya that!"

Joseph laughed and then said, "Oh I know. I got that from my mom. She didn't want to lead this mission. But she was half my age when she bagged her first wolf. Big ugly brute kinda like homeboy to my six." He said bobbing his head to the wolf to his six as the beast snarled in response. Joseph then tilted his head towards the glass ceiling.

"Show's all yours. Faelen."

The big man glanced up, eyes widening as the ceiling shattered. A young man similar in age to Joseph crashed towards the floor below. He was armed with twin Desert Eagle pistols as he tumbled, firing off expertly placed shots, killing the wolves surrounding Joseph who did not even flinch, but stayed focused on the big man. The big man roared in anger, watching as Faelen flipped and landed to his feet, pistols low, steam hissing off the muzzle as he stood to full height, in front of Joseph.

Faelen stood at a similar height to Joseph. He wore a short sleeved black hooded jacket. The hood lined with a white fur cowl. Underneath he wore a form fitting white T-shirt with loose black pants and black boots. He likewise wore black fingerless gloves. He had dark brown hair sweeping past his shoulders.

"You all good boss, any injuries?" Faelen asked. Joseph said, "I'm adequate. I take it the rest of our unit secured the perimeter?"

"Yup. Nothing is getting in or out until we finish business here. Your orders?"

Joseph smirked and then said, "Teach big boy there not to mess with the Order of the Cross."

Faelen licked his lips, his amber colored eyes flashing vibrantly. "As you command, boss"

"Boss? Would you address a human with such reverence? Where's your pride as a wolf?!" the big man reared back, howled and transformed into his own wolf state, far larger and massive than his compatriots.

"Your insolence will cost you your lives!" he roared and charged forward. Faelen spun and tucked his pistols into their holsters behind his back. The wolf raised a deadly talon, aimed it straight for his face. Faelen caught the talon, holding it effortlessly. He then ripped it off, kicking his attacker to the side where he crashed into a large crate. The wolf jumped back to his feet, regenerating his missing claw. He bellowed with tremendous fury, sprinting forward as he began his duel with Faelen.

Faelen was young, but the boy had prodigious might and skill. He easily evaded all of the attacks, ducking and using his enhanced speed to dash around in a blur. A confident and cocky smirk on his face the whole time. His opponent, an old wolf was a strong and experienced fighter. But Faelen made him seem like a total amateur.

The wolf roared and swiped, Faelen ducked again, this time sweeping out the wolf's legs before he kicked him into the air. Faelen appeared above, smashing him back into the ground with a thunderous crash.

"How can a young wolf be this strong?! He hasn't even transformed, and he's been knocking me around like I were nothing. I'm over five times his age, the gap in our strength shouldn't be this enormous!"

Faelen sneered and gestured with one hand. "Come on. I'm not even taking this seriously. You can at least put up a better fight. Are you really going to let Rorschach known a wolf half your age kicked your ass?"

That seemed to stir something. Faelen watched as the wolf reared to full height, closing his wounds as he howled. Golden amber light began pulsing and flashing around, concentrating to his right arm as the spectral shape and formed a massive, clawed forearm took shape.

"Everyone! Stand down! I'll end this in one shot!" Faelen shouted to his comrades. Joseph sheathed his sword and folded his arms. A group of soldiers taking point beside him.

"So, this is the Power of the Bloodline."

Faelen's eyes flashed vividly as golden amber light collected on his right hand, forming vicious talons. With a roar he dashed forward, cracking the ground in his wake. His opponent had no chance. Falen slashed and utterly vivisected him into bloody shreds. Pieces of entrails, flesh and gore splattering around in a gory mess.

With a huff, Faelen's eyes returned to normal as he waved his arm. Joseph walked up and said, "Kinda nasty."

Faelen smirked and said, "First time I've used it. Wanted to show out"

An officer approached, holding his rifle in tow.

"Sir, we've secured the site. The ledger is in our possession."

Joseph nodded and said, "Great. Burn any bodies remaining. Let's contain the scene and then head back to agency headquarters."

Joseph and Faelen, along with the rest of the Order's agents then burned down the warehouse. It was yet another message to the Werewolf known as Rorschach. A vicious and bloodthirsty tyrant. Rorschach had been waging war against The Order and their respective allies for years, all in his bid to cement his rule and legacy as the strongest Werewolf. They didn't know it, but Rorschach was already planning a final strike, intending to eliminate all of his enemies in a single night.

Hours later, Joseph returned with the remainder of their forces back to the Sokolov estate, the Order of the Cross's headquarters. Entering through the doors, Joseph sighed heavily and said, "Feels good to be back home."

Faelen was to his six, always dutiful and always ready to leap into action. Faelen looked up, then tensed his body. Two women stood at the base of the stairway. Arms folded, their facial expressions tense. The guards acknowledged both women and then vacated, experience telling them this was a matter outside their paygrade.

Faelen glanced at Joseph. Joseph nodded and stepped forward. Then, he smiled warmly and flashed a grin.

"Hi, mom."

Marishka leaped forward and snatched her son in a fierce and tight hug. She shouted something in Russian, grabbed him by the shoulders, held him at arm's length and examined him.

"Mom, I'm ok. Really, I'm alright." Joseph said chuckling.

Marishka stared crossly and then said, "Are you sure? No injuries?"

"Promise."

She hugged him again, kissed him on the cheek and smothered him with motherly affections. Much to the youth's embarrassment.

Faelen stared at his own mother. A sheepish grin forming.

"I'm back, mom."

Kathy, in a similar fashion to Marishka snatched her son into a fierce and tight embrace, rocking back and forth.

"Oh son, you had me worried half to death! I almost gathered the pack and sent them after you!" Kathy said, fighting back tears. She too held her son at arm's length, gazing at his form. He had her hair color, but his father's build and facial features. Handsome to no end and built like an NFL linebacker.

"Come on mom, you know I'll be fine. Besides, with Joseph watching my back nothing would ever happen. Right?" Faelen said, flashing Joseph a thumbs up. Joseph returned the gesture and was once again smothered in his mother's affections. "Your father would be so proud of you too"

Faelen froze, eyes downcast. But his spirits were boosted by his mother's affection.

Marishka wiped a tear and then said, "Report to your father. He's in his office."

Joseph tensed, but then nodded. He again flashed Faelen a friendly grin and headed up the stairs towards his father's office.

"Go with him, Faelen." Kathy said watching as Faelen followed Joseph. With a sigh she chuckled and turned to Mariska and said, "He's becoming more and more like him every day."

Mariska nodded, "Joseph is getting that way too."

Kathy said, "It's funny. I've been worried all these years that Faelen would falter somehow. That something in him would cause him to reject who and what he is."

Mariska looked at her curiously but then said, "He's had you. You are a wonderful mother. And he's had his crazy aunts and uncles in that pack of yours." She said with a light chuckle. Kathy smirked and then nodded.

"I can't believe it's been 15 years. I would be lying to myself if I had the same unwavering faith Michael is coming back. I have doubts. I try not to let Faelen see that."

Kathy felt Mariska's hand on her shoulder. She said, "Our boys are strong. Because their fathers are strong. And you're strong too. Don't ever feel guilty over doubt. Faelen knows, trust me."

Kathy then said, "I wonder. If...when he returns what he would say. I wonder if he'd recognize us."

Mariska made an odd expression. "Uh, forget that you all stop aging? I'm the one who changed the most."

"Stop it. You look great."

Mariska chuckled and then said, "Well, I'm a lot fatter these days. Got the whole mom bod going on." She said and then playfully squeezed her belly.

Kathy waved her hand, calling Mariska ridiculous for criticizing her body. In the 15 years since the war against Klaus ended, both ladies had grown much closer. A common bond no doubt shared by the rearing of their respective children. Joseph was the oldest of Vladimir and Mariska's three children. Faelen, being Michael and Kathy's only child, was nonetheless equally as treasured.

Upstairs, Joseph entered his father's office. He found him standing at the window, hands in his pockets, gazing outside. Faelen said nothing, just watched as he leaned against the wall.

"I've returned to you, father."

Vladimir turned, first gazing at Faelen, who nodded, and then to his son, Joseph. Vladimir nodded, then said, "Report."

Joseph approached his desk and said, "We retrieved the ledger. Our agents are combing through it and deciphering it. All the wolves encountered have been eliminated, including the one Rorschach hired to move his munitions across cities. It looks like we were right in that he is plotting a massive strike. The ledger should provide everything."

"Casualties?"

Joseph fretted, then said, "We lost almost a dozen. Very few injuries though."

Faelen folded his arms, one foot propped against the wall. He watched Vladimir slowly approach Joseph. His expression is icy and neutral. He almost looked as if he would assault Joseph. Instead, Vladimir reached, kissed his son on the forehead and snatched him in a great hug.

"Welcome home, son."

Joseph returned the hug, stepping back a few. Vladimir took a seat at his desk. "Your first mission was a success. How does it feel?"

Joseph sat down in one of the plush chairs, one leg propped on the other. "I admit, I was nervous. But this one here had my back the whole time." Joseph bobbed towards Faelen, who smirked. Vladimir chuckled and said, "Wouldn't have it any other way. Thank you, Faelen."

"You got it, Boss"

Vladimir reached into one of his drawers, pulling out a bottle of vodka and a few shot glasses. Joseph eyed him warily.

"Don't worry your mother won't mind. It's a Sokolov tradition. I think I was only...14 when your grandfather sent me on my first mission. Was shitting bricks the whole time. After it was over, he made me down five shots with him. Your grandmother was so pissed I think he slept in this office for a week."

All three laughed. Vladimir motioned Faelen over and poured them all a glass.

"To my son, I am more than proud of you. I have a feeling it won't be long before you replace me as master of this group. You are strong, wise, and above else you have great compassion and instincts. Use them well. Faelen, thank you for being Joseph's trusted friend and partner. You make both your parents very proud. Here's to our continued success. Vashe."

All three downed their drinks. Joseph grimaced but held it together. Faelen looked as if he had merely consumed fresh spring water. Vladimir poured himself a second then third shot, exhaled sharply and said, "Eat, wash yourself, rest well tonight my son. In the morning, you'll join me in a meeting with the Prime Minister's staff."

Joseph rose to his feet, bowed and headed for the door. Faelen remained behind. Vladimir said, "Everything ok?"

Faelen sighed heavily and then said, "Just something that's been on my mind."

Vladimir nodded, sitting upright in his chair.

"What was my father like?"

Vladimir sighed and closed his eyes. He knew moments like this would come. "Faelen, you should really talk to your mom about this."

"I know. But she only tells me the good. I know she means well, but I think she doesn't want me to resent him for what he did. But how can I resent someone I never knew? The rest of the pack is kinda the same. I heard everything. How my father is the strongest wolf alive. How he charged right into battle against the forces of Hell. But sir, you're his boss. Your family allowed him to make a blood pact. Your relationship is obviously different. So, who was my father? Really."

Vladimir didn't answer right away. His eyes opened and he stared at Faelen. He was a remarkable youth, far more astute than most would give him credit for. And he could be Michael's own twin. Vladimir saw no harm in speaking with the boy on the matter.

"Your father wa-...is...simply put, a monster. He is a pure-blooded Werewolf from one of the oldest and most noble lineages. Your father has seen whole nations collapse. He witnessed empires rise and fall, kings and monarchs dethroned. He's been at the forefront of most battles and wars in known history. When he encountered my ancestor, Vitali Sokolov, two centuries ago he made a pact in exchange for his life."

Vladimir swiveled in his chair and then said, "And yet, despite his enormous power there isn't an arrogant bone in his body. He's one of the bravest, noblest, most honorable men I have ever known. It doesn't matter that he was born a monster, will die a monster. At his core, that nobility, that strength of virtue and character. I believe that's why your mother fell in love with him."

Faelen looked down at his feet. Then he said, "I don't resent him. I don't hate him. Mom tells me stories all the time of all the fights they've been through. It's weird but...I miss him. And I believe my mom. He's gonna come back any day now. And then we can all finally be a family."

Vladimir smiled. This was most definitely the son of Michael.

Faelen stood to his feet, bowed and then said, "Goodnight, Boss."

"Goodnight, Faelen"

Later, Vladimir nursed another drink as he stood in his office, gazing at the evening sky. He gulped his glass down, then returned to his desk. The door opened, his wife Mariska entered, shutting it behind her.

"Honey, what are you still doing up?" she asked approaching. Vladimir sighed and leaned into his seat. Mariska sat in the corner of his desk, crossing one leg over.

"Just thinking."

"About?"

"Our first born, mostly. He's grown so much in only 15 years. I didn't have half his maturity and wisdom when I was his age. I spent most of my early childhood being such a hot-tempered brat. It wasn't until my dad passed that I finally simmered down. I always wonder; did my parents have misgivings because of everything I put them through?" Vladimir said, swiveling in his chair.

Mariska then said, "Of course not. They loved you, Vladimir. More than you realized. Everything they did was to prepare you for this life. And we're doing the same for Joseph. That's why he's the type of young man he is."

Vladimir smiled, nodded, and then said, "Good thing he's smart like his mother."

"And Nikolai and Anton will follow in their big brother's footsteps. The Sokolov line is secure, always know this."

She leaned and kissed him. She then smiled and said, "Was talking to Kathy about Faelen. She says he's more and more like Michael now."

"Funny. I was thinking the same thing. When Michael does come back, I wonder if we'll be recognizable."

Vladimir noticed Mariska's cross look. She turned her head away, folding her arms. Vladimir chuckled and said, "What?"

"That's what Kathy said. I reminded her she's immortal and doesn't change. I mean, you haven't changed all that much either. Still handsome as hell, sure. Still have zero-point zero percent body fat." Mariska said frowning, then whispering something in Russian. "Me? I'm starting to gray; my arms are flabby; I've got this big ass and no matter what I can't lose this gut" she said gesturing to her figure.

Vladimir never considered his wife fat or undesirable. Sure, she was a bit heavier. Vladimir wasn't the same body wise either. His once treasured six-pack was now a solid one-pack, still maintained by calisthenics and sparring with his sons. He maintained well-muscled arms and shoulders and his once thick hair was cut far shorter. They both were past their peak from their younger days but were by no means slouches or sloppy.

In truth, Mariska was more attractive than ever, and he made sure to always let her know that.

"Not this again. Honey, you're not fat. You look fantastic for a woman your-"

The death glare she gave him would cause Hell itself to freeze over. Vladimir very carefully considered his words, then cleared his throat and said, "For a woman, of your immeasurable grace and beauty"

"Uh-huh"

"I mean it"

"You're just saying that cause you want some tonight." Mariska said now sliding off the desk and into his lap where he cradled her. "Admit it, I'm your fat old wife now." Mariska said, poking his forehead. Vladimir squeezed and then jiggled her sides causing her to slap his shoulder.

"Just come in under a metric ton, and I think we'll be fine" he teased. Mariska frowned, causing Vladimir to laugh.

"Well, if you're such a lard-ass then how come I can still do...this!"

Mariska squealed, and laughed with joy and embarrassment as he scooped her up into his strong arms, bouncing her like a pair of weights. He patted her butt then stole a kiss. She slapped him on the chest and laughed as he sat her down.

"See? Light as a feather" Vladimir said pulling her close. Mariska rested her head against his strong chest, sighed contently and said, "Such a big strong stud I landed. Thanks babe, I love that I'm still that hot young thing you married."

"So, this mean I get some tonight?"

Elsewhere...

"So, someone asks for the both of us for a big job. You don't ask any questions or raise any objections. Thought you were smarter than this."

Nero and Dante walked side-by-side to the location of their latest assignment. These days it was rare for the two of them to share jobs, but the money on this would probably set them up for months. Plus, Dante wouldn't admit it, but he enjoyed Nero's company on such tasks.

The devil hunter chuckled, shrugged his shoulders and said, "Come on kid, who's to say this won't be a wild time?"

Nero glanced at Dante. He scowled and said, "You realize this is probably a trap, right?"

Dante said nothing. Nero cocked his head.

"Wait...don't tell me..."

Dante said nothing. He placed his hands in his pockets and started whistling. That set Nero off.

"You son of a bitch! You knew! You knew this whole fucking time, didn't you?!"

Despite the outburst, Dante chuckled and said, "Like I would let us just walk into a trap. I know exactly what's going on here. Been plotting against for a while now."

Nero and Dante's assignment brought them to an abandoned insane asylum. The property owner promised a substantial pay if the two were able to rid the facility of the evil entities reportedly haunting the place.

"So, this is the looney bin, eh?" Nero said as the pair approached the front gate. The asylum itself was a massive and decrepit four-story building, abandoned since the late 1950's. According to urban legends, a powerful demonic being took possession of the minds and souls of the asylum residents. In time, numerous patients committed suicide and even acts of murder. After enough bodies piled up, the facility was shut down. Since then, legend says the cries and wails of the asylum patients can be heard on a full moon night.

Nero scoffed and pushed open the front gate. Dante followed suit. Both men on high alert. Nero then asked Dante the obvious question; who hired them?"

"Guy's name is Maddox. That's all he'd give. Promised the money upfront if we wipe out whatever evil power is taking form here."

Just as Dante explained that the iron gates slammed shut. A fierce gush of wind swept over the front courtyard that led to the entrance of the asylum. Moments later, a massive cube shaped red barrier was suddenly erected over the entire vicinity. The red energy sparked and cracked, taking the form of pained and melancholic skull-like visages.

"Welcome, Son of Sparda. Son of the Dark Slayer."

Nero froze; he recognized the voice as the mysterious caller threatening his family. He turned to Dante, whose expression turned serious as he folded his arms.

"Alright jackass, you lured us here. Now let's get this over with." Nero said, slowly reaching for Blue Rose strapped to his leg. Nero then watched as suddenly dozens upon dozens of demonic apparitions emerged from the ground in dark red pillars of light. The entities were hunched over with misshapen bodies and gangly arms. In their hands they wielded large blood-stained butcher like cleavers. The demons had hooded visages, making awful moaning sounds.

"Hell Antenora" Dante said pulling out Ebony and Ivory. Nero took aim with Blue Rose.

"Well, what are we waiting for? Time to rock!"

Nero sprinted forward, firing from his revolver, shooting two of the Hell Antenoras in the jaw. Dante followed suit, rapidly shooting and firing off from his dual pistols. The Hell Antenoras, now numbering about three dozen launched a vicious assault. They slashed and attacked with their cleavers. Dante and Nero evading and parrying with their respective weaponry. Dante tucked his pistols away, pulled out Rebellion and slashed two of the demons in half. A third tried tackling him. It was kicked aside as Dante jammed Rebellion into the fiend. He brought his blade up, knocked another aside and then swung in a large arc, slicing through several more.

Nero shouted, continuing to fire from Blue Rose, blowing off the Hell Antenoras heads off in grisly fashion. He spun and tucked his revolver away. Nero reached for the Red Queen, swinging her twice before jamming her into the ground and revved the handle. The motorcycle-like accelerant burned with great fury as he shouted and sped forward, slashing any in his path as their opponents were simultaneously cut and burned away.

Dante chuckled, slashing three times with Rebellion. He jumped back, then performed the Stinger manuever, dashing in a lightning-fast blur as Rebellion speared multiple Hell Antenora at once. Dante slashed upwards, launching his opponents into the air. He then took Rebellion and rapidly spun it like a wheel, slashing and cutting through his opponents until they were chopped to bloody bits.

The Hell Antenora were cut down to only three remaining. Nero deflected and parried the cleavers, kicking it aside, directly into Dante's path who sliced it in half. The second ambled forward only to be blown apart by Nero's Blue Rose. He eyed the final one curiously.

"I call dibs." He said as Dante frowned, holding Rebellion across his shoulders.

"No way, you always get the last one."

Both men stared at each other. Each held out their fist for a game of rock, paper scissors. Nero won.

"Ah fine, whatever." Dante said, turning his head, hiding his annoyance. Nero smirked, walked forward and aimed his Blue Rose. He took aim with the revolver. But before he could press the trigger, the final Hell Antenora was viciously sliced and ripped apart before their eyes, bits of blood splattering around. Nero and Dante watched as a pair of large and gruesome meat hooks dragged on the ground before whipping toward them both.

"What the hell?!" Nero shouted, parrying with Red Queen as Dante parried with Rebellion. Both men watched as the hooks, attached to a long chain, dragged up the side of the building towards the top where a lone figure stood. Cackling wildly, the figure spun and waved both sets of chains around before catching them.

"GODDAMN! That was one entertaining fight! You bastards live up to your name! I'd expect nothing less from the Son of Sparda. And the Son of the Dark Slayer himself!"

Dante narrowed his eyes. He caught Nero's side-eye stare.

"Darkslayer? Who the hell is that? And who the hell are you?!" Nero shouted, pointing at the individual above.

Nero and Dante blinked, and then watched as their opponent phased down to ground level with enormous speed, shocking even Dante. He laughed wickedly, then attacked with the chained meat hooks, slashing and swinging wildly. The hooks sprouted in multiple directions, putting Nero and Dante purely on the defensive. Both men forced to parry and dodge the fearsome weapons.

Dante rolled to the side, jamming one part of the chains with Rebellion. Nero followed a similar action. Now, with both sets of the chains immobilized, they went on the offense. Nero pulled out Blue Rose, Dante pulled out Ebony and Ivory and both opened fire.

However, their opponent merely smirked. With a shout, he ripped the chains out with sheer brute force, spinning them around as he laughed maniacally. Using his enhanced speed, he dashed around in blurred after-images, cackling the entire time. Finally, he stopped, standing feet away from Dante and Nero. It was here they finally gained a good look at their opponent.

He was clearly a demon of sorts. His physical appearance resembled a large, bald and stocky muscular fair skinned man. He stood probably 6-feet even. He had golden amber eyes and pointed elf-like ears. His muscles swelled and flexed with each movement. He wore blood stained and tattered dark brown loose fitting cargo pants tucked into black boots. He was shirtless, further enhancing his muscled form. His body was adorned in multiple occultic and Pagan tattoos. The most prominent were a spider on his back, a sigil on his forehead and runic markings across his arms. Most strangely, he wore a thick black colored butcher's apron with multiple pockets holding gruesome looking knives. And wrapped around his left arm, dangling to the ground were the chains connected to the meat hooks.

Strapped behind his back, was a giant sword resembling a rusted and crude looking chef's knife. Nero had to smirk despite himself. It resembled the Great Knife from the Silent Hill video game series, wielded by the fearsome Red Pyramid head creature.

"The hell are you supposed to be? A reject from the Texas Chainsaw Massacre?" Nero quipped. Dante chuckled and shook his head.

"Foolish boy, you don't even realize how dead you all are. But I'll entertain you. You can call me Beleth. I am the Butcher of the Demon World."

Dante glanced at Nero, then back to their new opponent, Beleth.

"And what is it you want, Beleth?"

"Oh, I can't tell you yet, it'd be too easy. I will say this. By this time tomorrow evening, your friends and allies across the world will be dead. Hellsing. The Order of the Cross. The Nightstalkers. Hell, even the Vatican's Iscariot. He's coming. And once we raise him from the grave, there won't be anything left of this world. He will ruin and corrupt it all, and then re-shape it in his image."

Dante scoffed and said, "Really? No different than Theokoles years ago. You can tell Mundus that that ain't happening. Kicked his ass once, I'll do it again."

Nero glanced sharply at Dante, then back to Beleth who laughed raucously.

"Mundus? Who said anything about Mundus?! You think that foolish wannabe god is who will rise again? Son of Sparda, there is so much you don't know. You don't know who ruled the Demon World before Mundus, do you? Who that false god usurped?"

Dante was now genuinely confused. He shrugged and said, "Like I care. So, who's this big bad demon making a return?"

"You'll learn soon enough, Son of Sparda. For now, enjoy your containment."

Dante and Nero suddenly found themselves pierced by scores of meat hooks, immobilizing them in a gruesome manner. A cube shaped barrier soon ensnared them, completely engulfing the two while ruthlessly skewering them over and over.

"A little trick I brough from the Demon World. Meant to say, thanks for taking care of the foolish Theokoles. Saved me the trouble. How's it feel to be in a meat locker from Hell?" Beleth teased.

Inside, Dante and Nero both shouted, transforming into their devil states. Dante nodded, concentrating on an output of enormous power. Nero likewise concentrating as light flashed to his side. The Yamato appeared. Nero swiftly removed the sword from its scabbard and slashed through the containment, causing it to shatter like glass.

"Ban...KAI!"

Beleth's eyes widened, he wasn't expecting this development. With a shout, Dante and Nero freed themselves, landing to their feet, as demonic energy poured from the two. Dante folded his arms with a cocky smirk. Nero crouched to a defensive stance; he disappeared in a flash.

"What?!" Beleth growled.

The barrier trapping them in the courtyard of the asylum was shattered as Nero used the Yamato to cut through the dimensional barriers, freeing he and Dante. Nero landed back near Dante, energy pulsing from his devil form as he sighed and returned to human form.

"Any other tricks you wanna try?" Nero said, holding Yamato in its sheath across his shoulders.

Beleth narrowed his eyes, then a sadistic and evil smirk spread across his lips. He raised one hand to the sky as he became engulfed in a vortex of swirling black energy. His form twisted and contorted, charging up to the sky. A horned demonic skull peered down on Nero and Dante before it roared and took flight with a thunderous boom, racing across the sky. Silence followed suit.

Dante sighed, exiting his own devil form. He then said, "Well I suppose it's time we collect our-"

He was rocked by a hard right from Nero, sending him skidding several feet back across the ground. Dante groaned, holding his jaw as he slowly stood to his feet.

"The hell is your problem kid?!" he groaned, feeling his throbbing jaw.

Nero pointed a finger at Dante. "Why the hell were you keeping me out of the loop? Mundus?! You knew all this time that someone is apparently working from the shadows trying to bring Mundus back to life? What gives?! Damn it Dante, I thought we were partners in all this!"

Nero's anger seemed to stir something. Dante struggled to his feet, rubbed his chin and said, "You're right. My bad. Look Nero, truth is, with the family and all I didn't want you worrying. Kyrie just about killed me after our last joint mission. Ever since she's made me promise not to let anything happen."

Nero scoffed and stomped on the ground. He thought of Kyrie, their son Caleb. With a heavy sigh, he slowly began to understand where Dante was coming from.

"I'm sorry I hit you" Nero apologized.

"Don't sweat it. Shit that right hand of yours might be human again, but it still packs a wallop." Dante jeered. Both men then chuckled. Nero then gazed to the sky. The nighttime was ending, and the first rays of dawn began approaching.

"Let's get our money. My family's waiting for me."

Dante nodded. He then turned towards Nero. "Ban...kai?" he asked curiously.

Nero shrugged and then said, "Heard it from a TV show."

Back in New York...

Rosette's cell rang. She answered on the third ring.

"This is Rosette"

"Mission completed, ma'am. The town is once again safe."

Rosette sighed heavily and said, "Nicely done, Gus. So, how many in total?"

"Our intel was off. It wasn't just one vampire causing havoc. There were at least a few dozen. Not to mention there were three times as many ghouls as initially reported."

Rosette began pacing in a circle. She then asked Gus did he encountered any difficulties.

"No, ma'am. Was a bit too easy. Honestly, I'm a little disappointed."

Rosette chuckled and said, "I kinda figured as much. What's your thought on this Gus? What do you really think is going on?"

"Ma'am, it's far too disorderly. First the beast tearing through the northern borders. More packs of Werewolves appearing across the state. And not to mention demonic forces on the rise. It's like, it's like someone is stirring all this random conflict together. Drawing our attention away from something."

Rosette then said, "Hhm. We'll have to dig deeper then. I assume this will all be made in your report?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good. Return to agency headquarters for a debriefing. Take the next couple of days off. Rest up, I think we all could use it after the week we've had."

"I'll rest when I'm dead."

"Don't talk like that Gus"

"Apologies, ma'am. And thank you, like always."

"See you soon Gus, be safe."

Rosette hung up. She turned to the chief of police and his attendants. Then, she smiled. "As promised, the Nightstalkers always deliver. We're pulling our agents out of the field. Our operative has safely eliminated the threat to your town."

"Operative? You mean, only one man?" he said astonished.

And the chief was right to be astonished. The operative in question was no ordinary man.

Gustave "Gus" Juarez was dispatched for specialty assignments requiring his enormous power and expertise. Particularly with vampire attacks. Tonight, in Bethpage was no different. The sun was slowly beginning to peak as the coming dawn approached. Walking out of the town residence, was a lone man of Hispanic origin. He was middle-aged, perhaps in his early 50's. He was a stocky and compact individual standing 5'10, with a robust and heavily muscled build. He had closely shaved black hair and neatly cut and trimmed sideburns. His face otherwise was clean shaven.

Gus wore a short sleeved black shirt with a high upturned collar. His shirt was unzipped exposing not only his impressive muscular build but the scars adorning his body including savage burn and scorch marks. His forearms were taped heavily with white bandages. He worse loose fitting black pants tucked into steel toed boots. His pants were secured by a thick tactical belt.

Strapped and secured snugly to his waist were a pair of Japanese tachi; unlike the more traditional katana of samurai fame and legacy, the tachi was slightly longer and more curved. This made it even more suited for high-speed drawing in battle. Gus' tachi were specially crafted, going by the names of Gozu and Mezu. Gozu was adorned in a red and black dual colored scabbard. The handle wrapped in black silk with the cross guard bearing the design of a horned oni. Mezu, was adorned in an ebony wood scabbard with a similar cross guard and wrapped handle.

Gus turned over his shoulder, gazing at the carnage he left behind. The body parts of the numerous vampires and ghouls he had slain were piled high, towering perhaps some 30-feet in the air. With a huff, Gus made the sign of the Cross and continued. As daylight broke, and sunlight beamed over the town, the bodies of the undead monsters ignited into a wonderful display of flameworks, burning steadily until they were nothing but a pile of ashes.

Over in England...

"That's game, set and match. The winner, Sir Integra!" Seras Victoria declared proudly waving one hand.

Seras watched as Integra lowered her fencing saber with a satisfied huff and then slowly removed her helmet. She saluted her opponent, and then said, "Much greater effort than usual, I'm impressed."

Her opponent, a young adult male of about 22-years-old, likewise saluted then removed his helmet. He had shaggy light brown hair and dark colored eyes. With a confident smirk, he flashed Integra a thumbs up and then chuckled. "I'm beginning to think you're holding back."

Integra chuckled and said, "Whatever would give you that impression?"

The young man replied with, "You usually beat me in less than four moves. I admit, fencing is still...tricky for me. You know I much prefer being hands on. How about we break out the Boxing gloves for some pugilistic competition?"

Integra shook her head, a warm smile spreading on her face.

"Perhaps one day soon, Alexander."

"If you say so, my beloved mother."

Alexander "Xander" Hellsing. Integra Hellsing's legal ward and adopted son. Xander, as he preferred to be called, came into the Hellsing Organization nearly 15 years ago. Integra paid a visit to the orphanage run by former Iscariot soldier, Father Anderson. It was a most unusual move given the history and bad blood between Iscariot and Hellsing. Integra had been moved by Anderson's sacrifice in the battle against Klaus and the latter's role in helping to bring down Theokoles. After burying the hatchet and ensuring there would start to be peace between the two factions, Integra stumbled upon one of the youths in the orphanage's care. Integra, and by extension Seras also, found themselves drawn to the boy. Without hesitation, Integra formally adopted him as her ward and legal child, returning to England with a proper heir.

Xander handed his helmet and fencing saber to an attendant. "So, what's on the agenda today?"

Integra said, "Report to my office in one hour. There's an urgent development in regard to these attacks on the public. This evening, you will attend a meeting at the Round Table. I expect you'll be adequately prepared."

Xander froze. "You mean it? The Convention of Twelve? I... I didn't realize you thought me ready yet."

"Oh, you're not." Integra said, then smirked when his expression soured. "But these times call for unconventional measures. Take some pride though Alexander, you are perhaps the first non-sworn individual to attend a gathering of the Round Table."

Integra swiftly turned on her heel, leaving behind a bewildered Xander and Seras.

"Don't disappoint us." Integra said.

Xander gave a slight bow, then smirked. He turned to Seras and said, "You hear that sis? I actually get to sit at a meeting of the Round Table."

Seras smirked and said, "You don't need to keep calling me sis you know. Technically I work for you and Sir Integra."

Xander and Seras developed a unique and close bond. While she was devoted to him, as she was to Integra, and by larger extension, Alucard also. Seras maintained a cordial, albeit respectfully playful and friendly relationship with Xander. This led to the youth affectionately referring to Seras as his sister. A term that although she tried to correct, she adored.

"Well, you're the closest I've ever had to a sibling. Why wouldn't I call you anything but my sister?"

Seras felt her eyes water.

Integra returned to her office, sitting patiently in silence. Xander was due in another five minutes.

"What troubles you, my Master?"

Alucard phased into the room from the wall, sneering the entire time. He slowly approached Integra who remained silent.

"Is it about the boy?" Alucard asked.

Integra nodded. She reached for her cigar box, taking a fresh one out. She rolled it in her fingertips, sniffed it, mulled it over.

"He's quite talented, my Servant. I just worry is all."

Alucard broke into raucous laughter causing Integra to snap her cigar in annoyance. "And just what is so funny?"

"To think I would live to see Integra Hellsing, Master and Lord of this house as an affectionate and doting mother. What would your father say?"

Integra glared harshly at her servant. This only seemed to entice him further. Alucard then said, "He has your passion and your fire. Your intellect, your courage and tenacity. He might not share your blood, but he is your son. He will be made into a fine and proper heir to the Hellsing bloodline. I look forward to the day when I will call him master."

Alucard turned on his heel, walking to the exit.

"By the way Integra, it's not too late you know. You could still give it up. Find a good gentleman of proper British upbringing. Bring him back here to the mansion and let him take you for a-"

"DON'T SPEAK TO ME! YOU MONSTER! Now get out of my office, damn it!" Integra roared, her cheeks blushing furiously, her eyes wide as she tossed her cigar box towards Alucard. The count, however, had already phased through the wall. Not before he gave her a taunt and a sneer. The cigar box smashed against the wall harmlessly.

Seconds later, Xander entered the office, now immaculately dressed in a fine suit complete with a bow tie. He blinked, noticing Integra's frustration as she panted, huffed, cleared her throat and stood straight.

"Right on time my son, well done."

Xander glanced at the shattered cigar box, but focused back on Integra, who motioned for him to sit with her.

"Let's get right to it, shall we?"

"Of course."

"First order of business, the research I've been having you and Seras take care of. What have your findings been?" Integra asked, folding one leg over.

Xander sighed and said, "Nothing good. Seras and I have combed through an untold amount of arcane lore and knowledge. We keep coming across the same name. Paimon. The prince and king of Hell who is said to command untold legion of demons. Paimon is said to oppose the English church."

"Yes. I'm aware of that. The operation conducted a few nights ago revealed such. Paimon apparently is able to possess even the mind and body of a vampire. This shows how dangerous he is. I shudder to think if...if he could possess a vampire of Alucard's caliber."

Xander actually laughed and then said, "I doubt it. From what you and Seras tell me there is hardly a single being alive that could take on Alucard." He smiled, noticing his mother's expression. She smirked and then nodded.

"Continue"

"We've also been monitoring the reporting made by our allies across the globe. The Order of the Cross in Russia. The Nightstalkers in New York. Even that mercenary, Dante, and his comrades. All encountering higher than normal levels of demonic activity. It very well seems to be a prelude to something. And that's not all. Reports are showing of increased Werewolf activity all over Europe."

Integra stiffened. "Werewolves? Really?"

Xander nodded and said, "Yes. The reporting indicates that the individual known as Rorschach, has been amassing an army in the underground. He's in contact with arms and munitions dealers across Eastern Europe, Africa and the Middle East. Rorschach is buying up heavy arms. It seems his next likely target will be Russia and the Order of the Cross."

Integra sighed heavily. Yet again, Vladimir's forces were targeted. She knew she must reach out to him at once.

Just then, Seras entered the office. She carried a manila envelope in one hand. "I've got it, Sir Integra. I've figured it out. Everything goes back over 15 years ago. When we defeated Klaus and Theokoles and the Demon World was re-sealed."

Integra stood straight in her seat. Xander listened intently. "What is it exactly, Seras?"

Seras then said, "The seven demonic apparitions which escaped into our world. We've finally uncovered their identities. Sir Integra, it's worse than anything we've encountered yet. Worse than Millennium or Klaus and his minions. Worse even than Theokoles."

Integra folded her fingers calmly into a tent. She glanced at Xander, then at her subordinate and then she closed her eyes. Offering a quick silent prayer.

Those steely eyes of hers opened.

"Tell us everything, Seras."

Back in New York...

Dexter heard the shuffling of small feet, the clanking of silverware, his wife Rosette shushing someone, and the snickering and giggle of a child. Although still in bed, he was wide awake. But for his family's sake he played along. Especially his two youngest. He kept his eyes closed, even faked like he was snoring.

"One...two...three MORNING DADDY!"

There it was. The morning storm. Dexter was simultaneously bombarded with affectionate hugs and kisses from his brood. His eyes shot open, he feigned surprise, and then wrapped them up in his broad arms, squeezing them hard.

"Ok dad! I get it!"

"We can't breathe!"

Dexter laughed and said, "Well you shouldn't have started then!"

Rosette laughed, standing near him with a tray full of breakfast and coffee.

"All your favorites babe, morning" She leaned, kissed him, then set the tray down on his lap. Dexter looked down at it, then to his family standing around and his heart swelled with love.

Their firstborn, Trinity Smith, age 15.

Their second born, Cody Smith, age 11.

Their youngest, Travis Smith, age 5.

Cody and Travis were spitting images of Dexter. Same skin tone and complexion, same noses, same eyes and facial features. Cody had his mother's curly hair style though. Travis had close cropped hair similar to Dexter.

Trinity was her mother's twin, and everyone complimented it. A young teenage girl, she shared the same green eyes as her mother, but Trinity favored keeping her shoulder length hair in a braided ponytail. She was already close to her mother's height and had an athletic build.

And Rosette? In Dexter's eyes, no woman on God's green earth could hold a candle to her beauty. Rosette wore a simple t-shirt, gray leggings and house shoes but she could beat out any runway model easily. Her typical curly brown hair was much longer, reaching down to the nape of her back. She and Dexter were both middle-aged now, but one could hardly tell. Despite the harshness and dangers of their work, they kept themselves healthy and fit. Dexter becoming a serious powerlifter in recent years, thanks in large part to his cousin Dutch.

Rosette still maintained her slender figure, though she was more notably shapely. No doubt it was a result of the birth of three children. Dexter couldn't help but let his eyes roam down to her hips, but with his children present he resisted the sting of desire creeping forward.

Soon as they would leave though.

"Wow, all this for me? You guys spoil me." Dexter said, excited at the prospect of a good breakfast.

"We just wanted to show how much we appreciate you. You always work so hard to take care of this family. And you always come back to us." Rosette said, watching as Cody and Travis climbed off their father.

"I made the bacon!" Cody exclaimed.

"I poured the juice!" Travis said.

Trinity folded her arms and said, "Mom burned the eggs"

Rosette glared at her daughter who turned, hiding a smirk. Dexter chuckled and said, "It's ok. I'm hungry enough I'll eat whatever you put in front of me."

"Alright kids, let dad eat in peace. Besides, it's a school day for all of you so let's get ready" Rosette said.

Cody and Travis hugged and kissed their father and chased each other out of the room. Trinity lingered.

"What? No kiss for your old man?" Dexter teased.

Trinity laughed, kissed her father on the cheek and said, "See ya later, dad"

When she walked out of the room, Rosette sat on the edge of the bed. "Sleep well?"

"Like a rock. I haven't been that exhausted in a while. Some night."

It had been already three days since the Nightstalkers latest assignment. Rosette and Dexter enjoyed the time off to recuperate. It would soon be back to business.

"No kidding. What do you think Gus meant? That all of this is distracting us?"

"No clue but I bet we'll find out today. We have the huge conference with the Governor, right?"

Rosette shuddered and then said, "Yes, at 3. I've got Cody and Travis for school and dismissal. Trinity has a half day. She said she's going to spend the rest of the afternoon with her friends. So, you've got some time to rest up."

"Thanks babe, you're the best."

Rosette smiled, kissed him again and departed.

Hours later, Dexter was fed, showered, and had his libido satisfied by some very vigorous sex with his darling wife. After dropping their brood off, she returned home and enticed Dexter for some intimate time. Getting breakfast served in bed followed by love with your wife was just about the greatest way to start the day.

Dexter was currently dressing himself, preparing to head into agency headquarters. Rosette was going to meet him there after she dropped Cody and Travis off at Dutch's home. Dexter smiled, thanking good fortune he could rely on his older cousin. Dutch never complained whenever he had to watch over the little ones. Cody and Travis adored him in return.

As he dressed himself, his thoughts again drifted to his wife. Rosette and Dexter had a wonderful family. Three great children, a wonderful home, everything the two had ever wanted. But it was the love and devotion between the two that Dexter ruminated on the most. He loved her. He loved her more fiercely and wonderfully than anything else. More than life itself. That love burned passionately and fiercely each and every day. He reflected on the advice he received from Vladimir: Make each and every day count. Hold her hand, kiss her every moment you get, always make the little things count.

And Dexter definitely followed that. Even if they were both at work, he would sneak into her office for a make out session like they were two horny high schoolers. He would bring her flowers after a particularly troublesome case or if the higher ups were riding her. Sure, they fought and argued. Just like any typical married couple. They both worked quickly to forgive one another. Dexter never being too prideful to apologize or seek his wife's forgiveness.

This is of course would lead to great make-up sex. After 15 years of marriage, there was an undeniable fact concerning their relationship. Their sex life was fantastic. From the moment they finally laid eyes (and hands) on one another, there was always desire and passion between them. Dexter always hungered for his wife's body, and she him. It showed when he'd pass her on the hall and give her butt a pat. Even if the kids were around, he'd sneak up behind her, grab her in his arms, shower her with kisses. When they would take a family vacation, Dexter would toss her over his shoulder like a horny caveman, much to his wife's delight and their children's embarrassment.

This morning's marathon of intensity solidified it. They were soulmates. And there wasn't anything on God's green earth that could get him to stop loving that woman.

On the subject of Vladimir, Dexter was grateful for their friendship. He and Mariska had become practically family in the 15 years since their conflict with Klaus. When Trinity was born, Vladimir and Mariska were first at the hospital, a tradition they followed with the rest of their children. Rosette and Dexter returned the sentiment when Nikolai and Anton were born. All three of their children adored their uncle Vladimir, and the feeling was mutual. Dexter always thanks his good fortune he had such extended kin. Even Dante was dependable, given you bribed the guy with free pizza and sundaes.

Dexter was snapped out of his thoughts when his phone rang. Not his usual cell phone. This was a special burner phone given to him by Morrison years ago. A burner phone that only two people had the number to.

One was CIA Deputy Director Monique Vega.

The other, Kazuya Hale. The former vigilante serial killer/assassin who was believed to have been executed 15 years ago. In truth, Kazuya was blacklisted into a CIA death squad. His mission? Eliminate the individuals under Klaus' control. A task that took him the better part of 15 years, given the list's lengthy volume.

Dexter hesitated, then opened the phone.

"Please wait. Voice authentication requested."

"Granted."

"Authenticating...confirmed. One moment and you will be patched through."

Moments later, a Hispanic woman answered with a velvety Cuban accent.

"Why Mr. Smith, so good to hear from you. Tell me, how's the wife and kids?"

"Monique, cut the bullshit. What is it you want?" Dexter said.

"Oh my. Right to the point, like always. Well, I figured you'd hear about it eventually but there is one target left. It's taken our boy 15 years, but he's almost done. One final name and it's all over. No more lying and hiding things from Rosette."

Dexter squeezed the phone tightly. He felt sick to his stomach, as if the breakfast he scarfed down earlier was teasing his insides, threatening to come up.

"Aren't you curious who's on the list?"

"No. Why the hell do you think I've never asked all these years? Less I know the better. You people roped me into this nefarious scheme and I'm not giving you any more ammunition to fuck me over." Dexter replied. He heard Monique laugh, say something in Spanish and then gain composure.

"Dexter. Baby, why would we fuck you over when you've been so good to us? You kept up your end. Kazuya could have gone off the fucking rails with that information, but he didn't. He stayed poised and focused. You know why? Because he trusts you. You told me he confessed everything about his past with Klaus, his mother's death, the entity possessing his soul, even his family history. A man doesn't do that unless he knows he can rely on the person. As many as his hands have killed, the fact you alone can reign him in is impressive. And scary. And sexy. Absolutamenta diabolico." Monique purred.

Dexter breathed in steadily. It was almost over. One final target. Then, he'd confess everything to Rosette. Then he'd beg for her forgiveness for deceiving her all this time. And then, he'd prepare himself. He suspected the CIA would try and fuck him over. Luckily, he's been building a backup plan.

"Dex?" Monique said.

"Don't call me that. We're not friends."

"Ok. Well as professional courtesy I just wanted to inform you. I'll contact you later when the plan goes into motion. Adios."

And she hung up. Dexter almost threw the phone across the room. Instead, he gathered himself, finished getting dressed and then headed for agency headquarters.

When Dexter finally arrived at the Nightstalker agency at FBI Headquarters, he was called into the Director's office. Approaching, he tapped on the door twice and waited.

"Come in."

Dexter opened the door to see Rosette sitting in front of Director Hank Waller, the current Bureau Director of the FBI. Also, in attendance were Seth and the operative known as Gus.

"Ahh, Dexter, thanks for making it." Director Waller greeted kindly. Dexter approached, fist bumping both Seth and Gus who smirked and said, "Good to see ya, Boss."

Rosette smiled at her husband, then turned to Director Waller. "So, is this what I think it's about?"

He nodded and said, "That's right Rosette. The Governor is calling this emergency conference due to the recent events across the state. First off, he's not too fond of the fact he was kept in the dark about our agency and the work we do here. He's new to politics and has only been in the know for a short time. Secondly, the fact there was a major skirmish on the Canadian border is troublesome. In his eyes at least. He views this as a potential conflict with the Canadian government. Lastly, the incident in Bethpage. Someone leaked information and now the press has gotten wind of it."

Rosettes sighed and shook her head. "So, did we screw up?" Seth asked, folding his arms.

"Not at all. I've vouched for all of you. Especially you, Gus. I know you are new to our agency, but your work has not gone unnoticed." Director Waller said. Gus nodded and said, "Appreciate it, sir."

"It sounds like the Governor is trying to protect what little ass he has left. He'll end up looking stupid if this whole thing blows up. I say we also report on our findings. These incidents are not isolated." Dexter said.

Director Waller seemed to agree. Dexter then surprised everyone when he said, "Director, may I speak with my team alone, in private. Before we head to the conference?"

Director Waller looked to Rosette, then to Seth and Gus and back to Dexter, who remained adamant. He nodded, stood from his seat and said, "Please be brief. We don't want to look bad showing up late."

He exited the office, leaving everyone behind.

"What is it babe?" Rosette asked, tucking a few strands of her hair behind her ear. One of her telltale traits. A trait passed on to their daughter Trinity. It meant she was preparing herself to receive bad news.

Dexter breathed in thoroughly, then exhaled slowly. This would suck, but he had to let them know.

"Listen, I'm going to confess something. It's taken me 15 years, but I need to tell you all this. Even you Gus. If this blows up, like I'm feeling it might. Then you don't deserve to go down in flames." Dexter said. Gus merely shrugged and placed his hands in his pockets.

"What's going on Dex? Is this where you tell us about your secret double life? You on a government witness list? Hiding a second family? There a little Dexter Jr?" Seth cracked. Rosette and Dexter glared harshly, only causing him to laugh. Gus even cracked a weak smile.

"No. Well, here it goes. Kazuya Hale is alive. He wasn't executed 15 years ago. The CIA has been using him to eliminate the individuals who were in Klaus' inner circle. I've been his handler on this ever since. And now, there's one name left on the list that he's gonna take out."

There it was. Dexter felt as if he might throw up. For over a decade he's been lying to everyone. His boss, his colleagues and fellow agents. His friends and allies across the world. Most importantly, his wife and best friend. And now the truth was out.

Rosette's expression was unreadable. She glanced at Seth, who likewise was stoic. They both gave the most subtle of nods. Then, promptly burst into gut wrenching laughter. Gus followed suit, perhaps more to fit in than a genuine connection. Dexter's face dropped.

"Well, you called it Seth" Rosette said chuckling and wiping a tear.

"That's $500 you owe me" Seth said with a shit-eating smirk.

"Wait...what the hell?!" Dexter said, his face burning from embarrassment.

"Babe, we knew that. We've known this the entire time. Do you honestly think something like that could have gone unnoticed? When bodies started dropping left and right, we investigated it behind the scenes and concluded that Kazuya was behind it. The fact that the CIA used you to be his handler meant they really wanted this off the books. We also figured this is entirely unsanctioned and the President doesn't even know. Hence the secrecy." Rosette explained. She started laughing again when she saw her husband's face.

"Kazuya is smart, I give him credit. He set up quite an elaborate ruse to mask the killings. He figured if prominent political leaders start dropping all at the same time, it will rouse suspicion the likes of which not even the CIA could suppress. He developed a pretty clever routine, taking out no more than six each year. So, naturally, we figured there was only one other person in the know. That night when Morrison whisked you away? Well, I followed." Seth said, folding his arms.

Dexter wanted to yell, to scream, to curse. Here he was, shitting bricks over the fact he had been lying to his wife and friends for 15 years and they knew the whole damn time. His face darkened, not from anger, but frustration and embarrassment.

"Oh my gosh, babe, your face! I'm sorry. We get it. The CIA wanted you because of the connection you made with Kazuya, correct?" Rosette asked.

Dexter turned his head away, arms folded as he fumed. This only made Rosette and Seth laugh harder.

"We'll talk more later. Let's get to the conference. Come on boys, it's party time" Rosette said.

"Yes, ma'am" Gus said bowing and exiting the room, followed by Seth. Rosette walked past a fuming Dexter who turned his head. She kissed his cheek, smiled and walked out. Moments later, Dexter blinked, turned and ran after them.

"Wait, you bet $500?!"

All five later shuffled into the conference room where they were joined by the Governor and his attendants. After brief introductions, the Governor wasted no time in reading out everyone. He was a stocky, bullish, crass and abrasive man. One who was not in the least hesitant about speaking and saying his mind. His thick South Bronx accent added to the tension. As did his size. 6'1. 265lbs of solid mass that made men half his 57-years of age green with envy. A former US Marine, a regional wrestling champion, and a regular power lifter, Governor Hank Abbott was not one to beat the bush.

"So, do any of you brilliant players want to explain why I was not made aware that we have goddamn monsters crawling around my fair state?" Governor Abbott said, leaning over the table, fists pressed flatly against it, his face red with anger and frustration. He glanced around the room at all who were present.

"Do you realize how goddamn foolish I look when the Canadian Prime Minister calls me up, demanding to know why the FBI sent scores of their agents to the border on what was labeled as a training exercise?" he asked.

"Plausible deniability." Dexter said. Rosette and Director Waller glanced at him warily. Seth and Gus turned their heads, hiding their smirks. The Governor's attendants didn't see the humor.

"I'm sorry?" the Governor questioned.

"Plausible deniability. Officially, the Nightstalkers don't exist. Only the top of our government's echelon is made aware of us. For this very reason. If it got out that the United States government has secret branches running around slaying monsters, it'd invite massive panic. The public barely kept their shit together during Watergate. How do you think they'd fair if they knew monsters exist among them?"

The Governor stared at Dexter, looking as if he wanted to fold him like a Bavarian pretzel. Instead, he smirked, then actually chuckled. His thick and solid mass stretching the fabric of his suit.

"Now goddamn it, THAT'S the kind of answers I like to get. Not that PC goody goody bullshit they spin up in Albany. Son, what was your name again?"

"Smith, sir. Dexter Smith. My wife and I" he said gesturing to Rosette, "Are the senior agents in charge of the Nightstalkers"

Rosette smiled coyly, folding one leg over.

"Alright agent Smith. Mrs. Smith. I'll let you two bring me up to speed because it seems like everywhere I go I just get stone walled. If you, please?" he said, taking a seat. His attendant whispered something in his ear. The Governor brushed him off and motioned for Rosette.

"Governor, in the past 15 years, the agency has been monitoring, investigating, suppressing and in some cases, combating a drastic surge in demonic activity. We have not seen numbers like this in over a century. Across the entire continental United States, in every major urban area, we see attacks on civilian personnel, on local, state and even federal officials. Some of the worst involves young children." Rosette began. She directed everyone's attention to the large map brought up on the screen at the front of the conference room. It showed highlighted areas of concentrated demonic activity.

"In New York alone, we've seen everything from demonic hauntings, possession of innocents and full-blown attacks on civilians. Before the incident in Bethpage and the skirmish at the border, we sent our agents to investigate reports of hauntings in the town of Salem, Massachusetts. When our agents arrived, what they found was far more gruesome."

"Wait, why Salem?" the Governor asked.

"Because of the witch trials there centuries ago. That area has always been a hot bed for demon activity. It seems whoever is spurring these attacks has a thing for theatrics. Which raises the next point; these aren't just happenstance and coincidental attacks. There is a shadowy force controlling this opposition." Dexter replied.

Director Waller then spoke for the first time. "That is where our agency comes in Governor. We have been conducting a thorough investigation into these attacks. It's taken painstaking research, but we've finally come forward with a solid piece of information."

Rosette then said, "We have a name." She hesitated before uttering it.

"Malphas"

"And who the hell is Malphas?" the Governor asked.

"One of the princes of Hell. An archdemon of the highest order and class who answers and submits directly to Satan. As a prince of Hell, Malphas commands well over 15 legions of demons in his service. He is a demon of unimaginable power and wickedness, a foul and loathsome spirit from Hell. Malphas in particular is known for targeting women in his attacks. Many of the murders we investigate involved women, even young girls who had been utterly ripped to pieces." Seth explained.

The Governor shook his head.

"Malphas was said to have been sealed long ago, along with the other princes of Hell. There are seven in total. We believe these are the demonic apparitions which escaped from the Demon World before it was re-sealed 15 years ago. It coincides with the rise in attacks on the public." Rosette said.

Governor Abbot sighed, shaking his head and then sat in his seat. "Director. What should our course of action be? The Canadian Prime Minister is demanding answers. He's not going to buy the bullshit about a training exercise."

Director Waller then said, "Right now our primary objective is containment. We've got two names. We need to gather more information. I have a feeling these skirmishes are but a prelude to something."

"I think you're right Director. That's what my own investigations have brought forth." Seth stated.

"And your name?" the Governor asked.

"Seth"

"Nice name. Well son, tell us what you found."

"For almost a month I was tracking the monster which attacked the Canadian border. It was a Wendigo, an ancient and vicious demon considered both sacred and unholy by the First Nation Aboriginal tribes. Wendigos are exceedingly rare in modern times, but that's not the concerning part. In addition to the Wendigo, we've been dealing with encroaching packs of Werewolves across most of the New York state region. These Werewolves are under the control of the terrorist and arms dealer and trafficker known as Rorschach." Seth began explaining.

"Rorschach is a Werewolf himself. One of the most ancient and powerful of his kind, he's been the source of much of the armed conflict and military de-stabilizations around the globe. Not just with monsters, but with armed human conflicts as well. At first, we thought it was all random, but it's much more deeply connected. Rorschach is targeting the major global leaders and positions of power. By using his own wolves as well as inciting the rise in demonic forces. There are whispers in the underground that there is an alliance between Rorschach, and the seven demons which escaped decades ago."

"But what is his goal? De-stabilization? Is that all?" the Governor asked. Seth answered by saying, "He wants society to collapse. Rorschach believes in survival of the strongest and fittest. The weak die out, and the strong rule. With society collapsed and everyone in it for themselves, he'll see to it he rises to the top as master and ruler over everything."

Seth folded his arms, sighed and then said, "These skirmishes we've been dealing with? Distractions. Allowing him to move his armies into position. Rorschach most likely is going to commit one final assault. Against whom, we're not sure yet."

Rosette then cleared her throat and spoke. "Governor, if another strike is coming then we will need to prepare. We will also need to notify our allies across the globe. We should begin with Her Majesty's Royal Order of Protestant Knights."

She was met with blank stares. She chuckled and said, "The Hellsing Organization, led by our good friend and ally Sir Integra Hellsing. Also, there's Vladimir Sokolov, leader of the Order of the Cross in Russia. There are others still, we'll get you up to speed, I promise."

The Governor threw his hands up and said, "Well hallelujah and praise be the Lord for that! I will tell you something, I like how you Nightstalkers run the business. You ever need a connect from up in Albany and you have your people call my people. Now, is there anything else?"

At Devil May Cry...

"So, he said his name was Beleth? Never heard it before." Lady said, folding her arms. The Devil May Cry crew were at Dante's shop, discussing his and Nero's latest mission. Namely, their encounter with the being calling himself the Butcher of the Demon World.

Like Dante and Trish, Lady was older, more seasoned and experienced as a devil hunter. She still teamed up with her allies and comrades from time-to-time but also made a name for herself as a solo hunter.

Dante, chowing down on pizza, seemed bored and uninterested. Typical. His interest only moderately piqued when Trish mentioned there was no record of any being from the Demon World.

"I'm from the Underworld, Dante. I think I'd know. There's never been a demon by that name who came from there." Trish paced back and forth; her expression seemed concerned. Lady likewise was worried, and annoyed that Dante didn't seem concerned.

"Well gee Dante, a demon calling himself the Butcher of the Demon World shows up and you don't want to know why? Or who he really is?" Lady said.

Dante chewed, swallowed, burped into his fist and then licked his fingers.

"Nero?"

Nero, who had been sitting on the couch, twirled Blue Rose and then holstered his massive revolver. He stood and walked over.

Nero then said, "Called in a favor from an old friend from Fortuna. She did some digging, found out more about this Beleth character. It's worse than anything we've dealt with."

Trish looked at him incredulously. "A friend?" she questioned, then pursed her lips. Lady turned hiding a smirk, Dante grabbed another slice and chomped into it. Nero rolled his eyes and said, "It's not like that."

"Just tell them what she found" Dante said with a mouthful of pepperoni and sausage. Nero frowned, then gazed around at his friends. He sighed and told them everything.

"It goes back further, Trish. You never heard the name because it goes back before even Mundus or Sparda. Back to the beginning, literally. God himself cast out these demons. If they're too awful even for the big guy himself, well, that shows who we're dealing with." Nero said.

Trish scoffed and said, "I still don't understand."

"According to ancient texts, the first established ruler of the Demon World was a being named Mao. Mao, was one of the angels which fell from grace. More accurately, they were cast out of Heaven after a great war. These were the angels who became the first demons, they allied with Satan and as punishment, the archangel Michael banished them to the demonic realm which later became known as the Demon World."

Nero watched as Trish and Lady looked incredulous. Dante meanwhile kept chowing down on pizza. Didn't even bother to ask if anyone else wanted some more. Nero rolled his eyes and continued with his explanation.

"For a time, after Mao became king of the Underworld, there was peace. Until Mundus was born and quickly rose to power. Mundus coveted the throne and desired to rule both realms as one kingdom. So, Mundus killed Mao, usurped the throne and became the new ruler of the Demon World. I don't think I need to tell everyone what happens next in this story." Nero said folding his arms.

Dante finally showed some interest. He said, "So, Mundus wasn't always the top dog huh? Kinda figured. You know, a part of me always wondered what life was like for my dear-old pops before he came to the mortal plane. He was Mundus' right-hand man and most loyal soldier after all."

"Wait. Hang on. So, this...Mao was king of the demons before Mundus. Mao was allegedly one of the angels in Heaven who rebelled and joined up with Satan. As punishment, God cast them out and into the demonic realm as punishment. I've never heard this before. I always assumed everything started with Sparda." Lady said shaking her head.

Nero then said, "Oh but it gets better. Mao apparently bore himself a son. Morax, who became one of the seven princes of Hell. Seven demons aligned directly with the Devil himself in their war against God and humanity. Beleth is one of those seven demons, and apparently third up in the command. He told Dante and I their goal isn't to revive Mundus. My guess, they're trying to revive the prior ruler, Mao. I'm betting Morax didn't take too kindly to Mundus offing his own daddy like that."

Dante finished eating, stood, stretched and then said, "Well, we can discuss this with our friends in a few days."

The three looked at him blankly. Dante chuckled and said, "Got a call from our favorite British noblewoman. Seems our friends across the pond have their own struggles. Tell me kid, does the name 'Paimon' ring a bell?"

Nero stiffened. He explained that Paimon was one of the seven princes of Hell, second-in-command to Morax and one of the chief demons in the Underworld. It was all connected. It left him unsettled, more for his family's sake.

Dante's phone started ringing. As usual, he kicked it off the receiver only for Lady to catch it. With a smug look she politely answered.

"Devil May Cry"

Lady's eyes widened. She then handed the phone to Dante, who blinked and took the receiver.

"Had fun the other night, Son of Sparda?"

Dante glanced around, then played it cool. He leaned back in his seat, kicked his legs up and spread a shit-eating grin unto his face.

"I've had better. If that's the best to come then I have to say, for being princes of Hell, you guys sure are lame."

The voice on the other line grew silent. Then it said, "You won't be enjoying the show when your friends are screaming in agony. Just ask your pal Vladimir in Moscow."

Now, Dante's expression changed. The other three noticed it.

"What's wrong?" Nero asked.

"And what about Moscow?" Dante asked. The voice laughed, in a wicked and haunting tone and then said, "The House of Sokolov will fall by tomorrow night."

The line went dead. Dante hung up the phone, glanced at his comrades, then said, "Guess we're heading back to Russia. Better let our pals in England know what's up."

Meanwhile, in Russia...

The Prime Minister's office was in full panic. One staff member racing from one end of the building to the next. Men and women likewise shouting and swearing. One woman was on her knees, head bowed in deep prayer. The Prime Minister himself, however, was calm, assertive, and authoritative. He was not tolerating any foolish panicking. He directed his staff members and subordinates calmly and with vigor.

"Sir, reports indicate that across the entire Russian Federation, communications are going offline. We've already lost contact with all defense and intelligence stations. Civilian lines have been completely cut off. We've lost word with the Navy and with ground troops!"

The Prime Minister nodded calmly; fingers folded into a tent, his elbows resting on his desk. His Chief of Staff entered, holding several papers.

"More information coming through sir. Our worst fears are being realized. It won't be long before all of Russia goes dark. We will have no phone communications, nor access to any grid. All our major cities are already offline. More by each passing moment.

His assistant, a beautiful bespectacled woman glanced at him with concern.

"Sir, my family, your family, all our loved ones. What...what can we do?"

He sighed, reached into his drawer and pulled out a tall bottle of vodka. He opened it, poured himself a glass, sloshed it back, sighed and handed her the bottle.

"We can only pray, dear. Pray that our brave men and women fighting this enemy will be successful."

"But sir...who could be responsible for this?"

He gazed into her eyes, then said, "It's him. That man. That monster. The one they call the Hound from Hell. Rorschach."

"Good God. He can't seriously be declaring war on all of Russia, can he?!" someone else in the office shouted. The Prime Minister chugged another swig of vodka and scoffed.

"You must understand the nature of the beast. Rorschach is not like Klaus was. He doesn't want to unite people under his name and power. He doesn't want followers or subordinates. Hell, he doesn't even want to rule in any sense. What he craves is acknowledgment. That beneath all of Heaven, through all of Earth, and from the pits of Hell, there is no one stronger or better than him. That is why he is coming. That is why he will happily send forth his legion to destroy everything that we value and hold dear."

"Who can stop such a monster?"

The Prime Minister downed his fourth glass of vodka. He poured a fifth glass, swirling it in his hand steadily and leaned back in his chair.

"There's but one. But he sacrificed his freedom by trapping himself with the denizens of the Underworld. If he cannot return, I fear there may be no one who could stop him."

His assistant, after downing her own glass of vodka then wiped her mouth and said, "Sir, the Order. They can put a stop to this."

He chuckled and said, "Right you are. Let's first put our trust in the one who leads them. The Sokolov family have defended Russian territories from the forces of darkness for centuries. They will not fail now."

The Prime Minister was right to place his trust in Vladimir and the Order of the Cross. For years they've been preparing for the day when Rorschach would finally launch his attack on Russia. Though Michael was still trapped in the Demon World, the pack as well as all the solders of the Order were more than ready.

And they would need to. Because headed enmass, straight for the Order's headquarters was a vanguard of well over three dozen military choppers. Each one loaded with Rorschach's personal company of Werewolf soldiers. Inside the main chopper, Rorschach's pack of five wolves were readying themselves. Like their leader, they were comprised of some of the oldest and strongest wolves alive. A collective of killers and vicious fighters.

"I can hardly wait. It's finally time!"

"Yes! I can hardly wait either!"

"We kill and we feed. We tear their flesh from their bones, crunch their skulls into paste, devour their hearts and lungs. Tear their skin off with your talons!"

Standing at the helm, was an attractive and gorgeous woman. She had flowing locks of black hair tracing to the small of her back with bangs covering her forehead. Her attire was a strapless fitting dark burgundy colored dress, hugging her tight figure. She wore black high heeled boots and rouge lipstick. Like her packmates, her amber eyes flashed vividly.

"Rorschach's demands are simple: We go down there, we slaughter and kill them all. Everyone except the boy. Rorschach wants him to himself. He has something special planned." She commanded.

"And his mother?"

The woman grinned sadistically and said, "Kill her, fuck her. Fuck her then kill her. Either way, have fun. I'll personally slice her tits off and use them for place holders."

Her company chuckled. One large and burly man then said, "You always were so twisted, Tessa. I see why you're one of his favorites."

Tessa smirked then pointed toward the Sokolov estate which was coming into view.

"Make sure no one is turned. Cut the heads off after you feed. Now go, GO! SLAUGHTER ALL OF THEM!"

The wolves howled, with many initiating their transformation as the massive and mighty Lycanthropes descended towards the ground at full speed, racing towards the Order of the Cross' headquarters. With their enhanced speed, they galloped at full throttle, howling and roaring with ferocious frenzy as the full moon beamed down.

A war of nightmares was about to begin.

End Chapter

Sorry, this took so long! This was very difficult, I had so many twists and turns I almost didn't know if I could complete it in one chapter. Coming up soon will be the second part which will conclude this story. Some of you still had questions; those will be answered. Thanks for your patience and as usual shoot a message if you wish to chat! Stay Tuned!