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Renegade: Chapter 24

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One Shot at Glory

London, September 22nd, 2 am
Caitlyn pressed herself into the next door frame when bullets hit the ground. “Run! Get into shelter!”, she shrieked at the terrified people. Only few actually moved. “They haven't come to save us?”, a woman howled. Caitlyn didn't allow herself to think before she dashed across the street and pulled a little girl under cover just before another volley of bullets splashed up rubble. The child was shivering in her arms. Caitlyn forced the door open. The house was empty and seemed more or less stable. She sat down the whimpering girl in an improvised fort.
“Hey,” she whispered. “Look at me.” The girl did, with reddened, terrified eyes. “What's your name?”
“Emily,” she whispered. Caitlyn felt very cold. The girl had been sitting around all the time, where whoever had left her. Because she couldn't walk. She had lost both her lower legs.
Emily Reese. The girl Mira had fought barely three weeks ago and injured so badly.
“Where's your Dad?”
Emily shrugged her shoulders. “Wanted to pick me up for hospital. Didn't come. The others brought me.” Then the attack began and they were separated, killed or worse. This little girl had suffered so much. First she was kidnapped and brainwashed to fight Mira, then she was injured by the vampire queen, and now she was stuck in the middle of this hell. That was not right. What did she do to deserve that?
Caitlyn stroked her hair. “Okay, listen. You will stay here. Stay hidden until this is over.”
Emily clung to her arm. “Can't you stay with me?”
It seemed to hurt physically to let the girl go, not just because she dug her small fingers into Caitlyn's arm. “I can't. There are others who still need me. I'll come back to get you once this is over.” Emily's green eyes were full of tears, but she nodded.
“Promise me.”
“I promise.” The same instant, a panicked man stormed into the building.
“They're not here to help,” he babbled. “They want to kill us. How can they do this? Dear God-”
Caitlyn jumped to her feet and tried to cover Emily until she knew it was alright. “Hey!”
The man stared at her. He wore a ripped suit. “Who are you?”
“Doesn't matter. Who are you?”
“...Daniel.” He looked into space for a second. “Holmes. Why are they not helping us? God, oh God.” Caitlyn stepped forward and shook him, not exactly gentle, until he looked at her again. He was a good deal taller and more muscular than her, but he moved like a rag doll.
“Get the civilians off the streets. Hide in the cellar, if there is one. And take care of Emily until I come back.” He nodded, very slowly, after looking at the terrified child with the bandaged leg stumps. “What's your name?”
“Caitlyn Morris. Listen, I have to go, but I'll come back to get you. Get the others in here and then barricade the doors, before the ghouls get in. Do you understand?
Vatican knights in their airships landed nearby. Metallic footsteps and gunfire. They froze. Emily whimpered, but stayed silent. Caitlyn shoved Daniel in her direction and opened the door a crack. Nothing. The crusaders had gone on. Vampires ran past, but they didn't pay attention to the civilians. Many of them had been hit by bullets or rubble. Caitlyn opened the door and ran to the first group. The two woman and one man winced and automatically raised their hands.
“It's alright. Come with me.” She led them to the house, where Daniel had found the cellar entrance and begun to collect furniture for a barricade. In the biggest crisis, everybody needed a task to avoid a panic. “Anyone with a first-aid-training?”, Caitlyn asked. One of the woman raised her hand.
“Good. You take care of the wounded. You,” she indicated the other man, “take a look at anyone who comes in. Does anyone have a gun?”
“Here!” Daniel showed a box with two semi-automatics and a rifle. Whoever had lived here, he had prepared well. Did it help him? She would never know.
“I'll send other survivors in the vicinity here. It's hard to explain, but if anyone dies because of a wound, you have to shoot him. In the head would be best. Otherwise he'll become a ghoul. I know it's a lot, but...” But the others just accepted it. Caitlyn took a deep breath. This went better than expected. “Daniel, you organize everything. Fifteen minutes tops, then you go downstairs and put up the barricade until anyone comes to rescue you.”
“What if they try to trick us?”, the other woman asked quietly.
“Oh believe me, the Vatican and M- the others are pretty straightforward about who they are. If anyone from Hellsing wants to pick you up after the battle is over, it should be alright. But take the weapons with you.”
“Caitlyn.” Daniel offered her one of the semi-automatics. “You'll need it out there, right?”
“Thank you. God rest you merry.” Emily raised a hand and tried a salute. Caitlyn tried to smile, for her, returned it and left, after checking the coast was clear. She hated guns, but suddenly it was a good feeling to be armed again.
Crusaders and vampires had gone on. She could hear the helicopters touching down in a place not too far away. In between statics there were the voices of the vampires. “Assemble!”
And over everything, a voice she had first loved, and now hated.
“Look over this way!”, Maxwell told his crusaders. She had thought his Italian accent would sound cute if he allowed it to be, but now it only made her wish she didn't feel like she still did. “Look over this way!” Caitlyn could see him, a vague shape in a glass cube, making wild gestures. There was another shape at the back. Could it be?
“Your objective lies before you! See to the eradication of our enemies! Execution!” The gunships that weren't landing were still attacking the big zeppelin. The Deus Ex Machina. The god from the machine. The Major had a sense of irony, that much was sure. He was probably enjoying the show.
Enrico Maxwell did for sure. Caitlyn wished she had a radio, any means to talk to him. He was drunk on power. But if not even Lisa could bring him to his senses, what did Caitlyn think she could do? How silly of her. The man's undone forever; for if Enrico break not his neck in the combat, he'll break it himself in vain-glory.
A bible page fluttered past Caitlyn's face. She caught it. Revelations, chapter 7. Anderson could not be far, but he had other things in mind than her. Caitlyn was not more important than all these terrified watchers, those who hadn't been able to flee in time.
A helicopter approached the airship head-on. If the giant zeppelin was armed, it didn't fire back. Bullets were spraying off the hull like tiny sparklers. Then the helicopter just fell apart in mid-air, and exploded.
“She's returning,” a voice behind her said.
Caitlyn spun. “Walter?” There was no one. She was alone in the rubble and smoke. Her gaze fell on a battered black sedan. It had been hit by rubble, but except for a few scratches, it seemed intact. The wheels certainly looked okay.
Mira was finally returning. Caitlyn should go to the battlefield like all the others. Mira would know how to go on. The Major had to be stopped. Maxwell had to be stopped.
Caitlyn walked around the car for a moment. She opened every door and even the trunk. The keys were lying on the driver's seat. She called herself silly. If anyone wanted to kill her, there were easier ways. She was standing in the biggest hell one could create on earth. It was more likely she was killed by a ghoul. There was no need to prepare something as elaborate as a trap. It all seemed too set up to be a coincidence. There even was a smaller jacket, about her size, on the back seat. She had to look twice to see the leather was a dark blue, almost black. Shaking her head, Caitlyn took off Arthur's coat. The new jacket fit her well and was just as warm.
“Thank you, Walter,” she said loudly, without expecting an answer. His voice had been right behind her, not in her thoughts. Whatever reason he had to stay in the shadows, she had to rely on him. Trusting his judgment had never gone wrong. Her family was all she had.
She climbed into the car and she adjusted the seat. Doing that felt ridiculously normal in this apocalypse. She put the key in the ignition and turned it. The engine sputtered, almost died, then roared to life.
Caitlyn carefully turned out of the spot the car was framed in by big chunks of stone and metal. The sedan seemed to be new and answered to her every command. She could only hope the Iscariots had been at the mansion in time to help the Wild Geese. As to Caitlyn herself, she had other tasks to attend to. Her vampires were fine by themselves. Others needed to be saved first.

Machine gun fire rained down on the bloody, beaten and scared civilians.
“Die, die, die, DIE!”, Enrico rejoiced with a shrill laugh. “Yes, kill them all!” Men and women, few children, scurried around down there, searching for cover while being mowed down by bullets from the people they thought to have come to save them. “This is our power! Feast your eyes! This is the power of the Vatican! Know this, insects!”
Lisa was frozen where she stood. Her body refused to do what it was supposed to. She needed to do something, but she couldn't. Her eyes were locked on the ground, so far away from her. The 'ground' under her feet was swerving while the helicopter carried them forward. They were so far up. A wave of dizziness hit her, making her head spin. She was trembling and wished for someone she could hold on to, someone to protect her. Her fear of heights hadn't been that bad for more than fifteen years. Her brother had protected her, or her colleagues from Iscariot had given her the safety of support. But she was alone. Her brother would not help her.
Enrico laughed again, his voice sounding like glass shards grinding over stone. “Look! Look at these miserable bugs! The only good protestant is a dead protestant!”
Lisa stumbled forward, breaking out of her paralysis. Her legs were trembling. She bumped against the man that now had only a vague resemblance to her brother and clung on for dear life. “Rico, stop this!”, she begged. “This is wrong! Please, come to your senses!” He shook her off without even looking at her. Maybe he didn't even notice. Lisa almost fell, but could steady herself against the glass wall. The ground was so far away...
“What is Anderson doing?”, Enrico barked into the microphone. He was not even giving anyone time to answer. “Where is the rest of Iscariot? What about the gunships? Continue attacking the airships! Use full force! How long can it take to bring this huge thing down? Full scale attack!”
“We are in the process of landing and forming troops! We cannot yet attack with full force!”, the guy with the Spanish accent reported.
“Oh shut up!”, Enrico snapped. “If your heart is faithful, do it now! Anderson! Where is Anderson? Has Caitlyn still not been captured?” He broke off and Lisa almost thought he had come to his senses enough to at least listen to what she had to say. A small screen on the lectern lit up. Enrico stared at it for a moment. “What do you mean you lost sight of the Eagle? An enormous thing like that?” He stepped back and Lisa managed to look at the air shot of Dover. Or what she could see of Dover. Not just the port, the whole city had been swallowed by a dull white mist. The same that was coming up the Thames right now.
“A ghost ship,” she whispered.
“Find it!”, Enrico barked, sudden fear in his voice. “That's not some wreckage! Vladimira is on that ship! And continue attacking! Where the hell is Anderson? Mow them down to the last, understand?!”
“Bishop, we're still-”
“Don't talk to me like that!”, he snapped. “I'm not a bishop! Kill them! Every last one! They will feel God's wrath!” Another of those horrible grins had spread on his face.
Lisa grabbed his arm and spun him around. He tried to shake her off in annoyance. Lisa let go, and pushed him away, reaching the buttons shutting off the microphones. He didn't seem to notice.
“Enrico, stop this!”, she screamed at him. “What the hell got into you?”
He waved her away like an annoying insect. “I told you not to interfere.” He turned back to the lectern. “There! Our enemies are being squashed like the bugs they are! Isn't it beautiful?” He laughed. Vladimira had arrived, a red dot in the clearing mist. The Blackbird stuck out of the deck like a giant cross. Lisa was trembling. Something terrible would happen. She could feel it. Even Enrico in his power-induced madness looked nervous for a second. But nothing could disturb his mania for long. Vladimira jumped off the ship, her red coat fluttering, and landed in the middle of the crusaders. The men stumbled back, not able to hide their fear. Enrico snarled in disgust.
A flutter of bible pages and Alexander Anderson was there to face her. Lisa was trembling in fear she couldn't explain, much more than her suddenly almost forgotten fear of heights, but Enrico smiled. “Alex,” he said softly. “About time.”
In a flash of green, a tall man in a long uniform coat jumped off the Deus Ex Machina and landed next to paladin and vampire. “The werewolf,” Lisa said. She had to, just to understand it. Everything was going to go down, here and now. Either they won or they all died.
The three trump cards of three rivaling organizations, in the middle between white-robed crusaders and black-clothed vampire soldiers. Enrico laughed triumphantly. “Yes, this is it! This is what we've been waiting for!” Something in Lisa shattered at this moment, once and for all.
The crusaders began firing, as did the vampires. A whole dozen of bayonets dug into Vladimira, but of course there was no way of killing her like that. The werewolf jumped out of the way.
“Be prepared,” the Major's voice echoed over the battlefield. His tone was soft. “Ze River of Death is coming.”

I have returned, my master.
Caitlyn almost ripped the wheel around and hit a wall when she heard Mira's voice in her head. “Mira, thank God you're back! Have you seen Walter? He went off to fight the werewolf, and-”
The answer was a low chuckle. Walter can take care of himself. There are matters more important, my master. Lady Caitlyn Olivier Morris Hellsing. Give me your orders.
She had known it would come to this eventually. The answer was easy, really. They were asking for it. “Destroy Millennium. Every last one of them. Kill the Major and everyone who doesn't surrender.” She swerved around a ghoul and turned a corner. Many streets were blocked and she had turned around more often than she wanted to count. “As to the Ninth Crusade... Drive them back to where they came from. Make them surrender, what the heck, I don't know. Just make them leave us alone.”
Mira laughed. A chill ran down Caitlyn's spine. It was not even Mira's real voice, just telepathy, but that made it even worse. Master, Mira said in a tone an adult would use on a silly child. It seemed very real all of a sudden. Once I release all my powers, and that will be necessary to beat this opponent, they will not make a difference between one foe and the other.
Caitlyn stopped the car. Mira's full powers. The big mystery she had never been told about. She always had the suspicion the Round Table was keeping things from her. Everybody was keeping things from her, even those she didn't think of. Even her vampires. She could hear Mira chuckle, even if she was not even sending this to her so-called master.
Gunfire in the distance and overhead, smoke, blood, fire, death. Caitlyn rested her forehead on her hands holding the steering wheel. Her eyes were burning, but she had no energy to cry.
Tempt not a desperate man. How was this fair? She couldn't just condemn everyone equally, right? That was how everybody did it and look where it had brought them. And what about the civilians? They had been in the crossfire enough.
Enrico's rant had stopped, but Caitlyn could see what Mira was seeing, just for a second: Alexander Anderson, Millennium's werewolf who was nicknamed Captain, in between an army of vampires and crusaders, firing blindly at each other in a panic they could not explain. Caitlyn felt it, too. There was the traitor, up high, in what seemed to be an argument with his sister. Wrath makes him deaf. Even if he came to his senses now, what was done could not be undone. The so-called warriors of God. The devil can cite Scripture for his purpose. Isn't that true, Enrico?
Phrases ran through her mind, every one thrashing wildly, screaming for her attention. There is no darkness but ignorance.
Wise men ne’er sit and wail their loss, but cheerily seek how to redress their harms.
All's well that ends well.
The course of true love never did run smooth.
Can one desire too much of a good thing?
True is it that we have seen better days.

Mira's voice had become more demanding. Lady Hellsing. Give me your orders, Master!
Caitlyn thought of Emily, who had already suffered so much. First she had been kidnapped and brainwashed, then she lost her legs to the vampire countess, and now she was stuck in this living hell. She was ten years old. Caitlyn thought of Daniel and the other survivors, who had not had a clue about Section 13 or Millennium or even what the hell was going on in their own country. But they tried to make the best of it. They kept on fighting. None of them deserved this.
Only the Major did. He was a psychopath and had never left a doubt about what his final goal was. But even the Vatican had betrayed her. No. Enrico had betrayed her. That hurt more than it should.
Caitlyn knew Mira heard all of this. She had known about Caitlyn's feelings all along, just another player in this game of death and power and madness, shoving her around like a chess piece. What did it matter?
The Major wanted his war. He had his war. Enrico had his crusade. And Caitlyn had Mira and Walter. It was her time to act, belated as it was.
Heat not a furnace for your foe so hot that it do singe yourself.
She could hear Mira laughing in expectation. Caitlyn knew these words might haunt her for the rest of her life, maybe even after that, whatever would come out of it. “Do whatever is necessary. Search and destroy.”

Mira laughed out loud when she finally heard Caitlyn give in. The girl was weaker than she would like, but so far, she had put up considerably well.
“The Bird of Hermes is my name,” she said. Alexandru, her wonderful Alexandru, was the first to attack. The bayonets ripped her body to shreds, but she just disappeared and her essence flowed back into shape somewhere else. He could feel it, she knew that. Not much longer and they could finally find out if man really triumphed over monster. What a fitting end would it be to be to perish at the hands of the man she once loved?
“Eating my wings...”
The Captain attacked, a kick that split her body in half, before an explosive bullet hit him and he retreated. In the Blackbird, the sigil on her loyal coffin began to glow.
Control Art Restriction System.
Now everybody was hell-bent on destroying her before it was too late. The fools. Crusaders and vampires began to fire blindly. Smoke tainted the air as the two sides mowed each other down. Like this, she almost had to do nothing else than stay out of the way. But where was the fun in that?
“...to make me tame!”
She thought to hear the Major's voice, up there on his zeppelin. “Ze dead vill dance, and all of hell shall sing.” How right he was. Millennium's soldiers froze, a second before they were shredded by hundreds of cards. She had always known this pitiful, entertaining man would prove to be useful someday. His abilities were extraordinary, after all. Just like the cruel, childish huntress. Her bullets could easily turn a helicopter to shreds.
Level 0.
Her enemies were now crawling on the floor, no more human than their victims. Her loyal men, her subjects and soldiers in full armor, spears, swords, horses. Clad in shadows and death, the wave flooded the streets, crashed against Big Ben, rolled over panicked vampires and terrified crusaders desperately trying to hold their battle line. It crushed everyone who stood in the way and could not fight back in time.
The principality's army of Walachia. The Janissary army. The Turkish Civilians. Brazil's specialized police unit. Millennium's best shots. They were all the same now, subjects to the vampire queen. Millions of lives. Taking in blood meant more than just energy. It was the currency of the soul. Take a man's blood, you take his essence in you. A life didn't mean anything. Death made everyone equal. And of those lives, Vladimira Draculea Tepes, the queen of vampires, had more than enough.
Do you understand now, Alexandru? Do you understand why you could not defeat me, my love? Now you do, don't you? Now we are equals. Now we can fight to the end.
No heaven. No earth. The only thing that mattered was the fight. Death was all that mattered. Humans were so fragile. Just a fleeting shimmer, walking the surface of a cruel earth. Hundreds of them were born every day and died every day. Fight. Die. Trivialities. The world had lifted up its head for the absolute retribution.
Are you enjoying this as much as I am, Major? And you, Walter? She got no answer from either of them, but that didn't matter. Mira felt her form flow, to her real shape, the princess that had not shown her face in more than a hundred years, in full armor, with wild hair and red, melancholic eyes. Caitlyn had thought she knew every facet of her servant, but she was just a arrogant, delusional human. One of the better humans, but still with all their amusing, wonderful flaws. Mira admired how long the girl had kept her innocence. She was weak and easy to influence, so wholly unlike Abigail, who had once tamed her. And yet, Mira had greatly enjoyed serving her.
She, Lady Dracula.
Released.

Graf Zeppelin III, September 22nd, 2am
“God. Oh God, no.” Heinkel fell to her knees. She wasn't sure how she had come from the hatch to this place. She just was. She felt hot blood seeping into her trousers.
Vicky's eyes flickered. She should be dead. She should be dead and feel no more pain. But she was not dead yet. She was living just long enough to rub the vampire bitch's victory in Heinkel's face. That was all she was. A prank. A cruel sign of victory, like an impaled head on the castle wall.
“Teacher,” Vicky whispered. Her hand, the one that remained, flitted weakly about the ground, searching, feeling. Heinkel took it.
“I'm sorry, teacher.” Vicky's voice was close to vanishing, but she seemed calm, even serene, despite what had been done to her. Heinkel couldn't see the full extent of her injuries, but it was enough to know Vicky was not going to make it, even if she would be rolled in the operation theater at this moment. One arm was gone, as was the left eye. Most of the blood came from a long gash from neck to waist, all the way through her body. It was a miracle she was still alive. A cruel prank of fate. Talking only made her die quicker. Maybe that was better. “I should have listened to you,” Vicky went on. Something like a smile crept up on her lips. “I was such a bad student.”
“Don't be silly,” Heinkel said. Her voice was hoarse, on the edge of breaking. She was nobody that cried easily. She hadn't cried until a week after Chris' funeral, three weeks after she got to know he was dead. She had cried for her parents, once, and then just grieved silently. And she had never, never cried about what Wagner had done to her. But now she did. Because what had been taken from her had been her responsibility, and she had failed, and she hated herself for it. “We know where you got that from, right?”
Vicky actually laughed a bit. It turned into a cough spraying blood. “I s'pose.”
“Vicky...” The shaking, blood-smeared hand touched her face, very softly. Heinkel held it there.
“Teacher, you're crying,” Vicky whispered. She sounded like a little girl again, when they had first met four years ago, just less angry. Her own state was not enough to shake her, but Heinkel's tears were? What a cruel joke. Life was one big, cruel joke after all.
“Of course I am,” Heinkel snapped. “Do you have any idea-” what you mean to me, you silly girl? But Vicky smiled and put a finger to her lips. “No chick-flick moments.” Heinkel managed something like a laugh and stroked her student's wet hair.
“Teacher... does it... feel good to have your revenge?”
Heinkel hesitated. “Yes. It feels great.”
Vicky looked like she would have nodded if she could. “Can you... fulfill mine, now that I can't?”
Heinkel held on to Vicky's hand a bit tighter. She could have prevented this. A simple misunderstanding had made this happen. Karma was such a bitch. “Darling, the vampires who killed your parents are dead. Iscariot destroyed them years ago. I thought you knew.”
“Oh.” Vicky closed her eyes for a moment and Heinkel almost thought she was gone. But then she looked at her again. “That's good.” She shivered. It was going downhill fast. “Teacher...”
“Heinkel,” she corrected. “You're a paladin now.” The glow in Vicky's eye was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. A tear ran over her blood-smeared cheek and Heinkel gently wiped it away.
“Paladin Victoria Caine.” Vicky's weak smile shone like a beacon in the dark.
“Thank you for being my teacher.”
Heinkel's smile was shaky, but she did her best. For her. “Thank you for being my student.”
Vicky blinked, very slowly. “See you in limbo.”
“Say hi to the others from me.”
Vicky's voice was fading quickly now. “Okay.”
“I am so, so proud of you,” Heinkel said, her voice breaking. But Vicky had heard her. She had to. Heinkel closed her eyes for a moment, Vicky's hand against her cheek, and when she opened them again, Paladin Victoria Caine was gone.
Heinkel buried her face in Vicky's coat and sobbed into the blood-soaked fabric. After all those years of being strong, she couldn't take it anymore. This was not right. Vicky shouldn't have been here. Her teacher should have protected her. That had been her duty.
“I'm so sorry, please forgive me.” We were both idiots, I suppose. I just taught you how to be a rogue. A real Iscariot. Limbo is not good enough for you, even if I never get to see you again.
She didn't know how long she sat there, in the cooling blood and metallic stink. But eventually, her grief turned into crimson rage. That vampire bitch was still out there. Iscariot did not leave things unfinished. Heinkel hated loose ends. She should never have gotten away in Minnesota. And now Vicky had paid for it.
Heinkel tenderly closed Vicky's eye and stroked her hair a last time before she picked up the lifeless body. Vicky was light, much lighter than expected. Her missing arm was gone, probably fallen off the ship. Heinkel walked back to the hatch with stiff, automatic movements. She jumped, landing on the first sublevel. She couldn't climb with Vicky in her arms, but that didn't stop her. Eventually, she reached the corridors and walked into the command center.
Everybody stared at her and for the first time, Heinkel saw her own reflection. Her clothes and face were smeared with blood, her eyes reddened and lifeless. Tears had left white streaks in the blood and dirt on her pale face. She looked like the survivor of a horrific accident. In her arms lay the remains of a body that had once been a young girl.
Angelo dropped the weapon he had just been reloading. “Dear God, what happened?”
“The bitch killed Vicky,” Heinkel stated in a flat tone. “Can you take care she gets back home, so we can bury her properly?”
“O-of course.” Heinkel nodded and gave the body to Angelo. The seasoned paladin had seen a lot, but nothing like he saw in The Wolf's eyes now. Some part of her had died tonight, and they could only hope there was something left of the woman she was. She clenched her fists, shaking as if she had a horrible fever. Heinkel turned around abruptly, but didn't go. Maybe she didn't know where to. Her gaze fell on the Dragunov SVD Ryan had brought. “Give me that!”, she snapped at the young paladin.
He was too scared and puzzled to refuse. “Where are you going?”
“Finishing something I should have ended long ago.” Heinkel stormed out. I should have killed her the moment we first met. The rifle over her shoulder, she jumped more than climbed down the rope ladder they had used. The cars were parked a few hundred meters away behind a few trees.
“Heinkel!” She wiped her face with one sleeve. That probably didn't make her looks any better. Who cared. She walked on.
A hand on her shoulder made her spin. It was Yumie. She was wearing a beige mercenary uniform from which she had removed the Hellsing crest. It fit her astoundingly well.
“Don't try to stop me!”, Heinkel snapped and shook off her hand.
“Don't be ridiculous! I'm coming with you,” Yumie said. Her voice was shaking, but her violet eyes flashed in rage. Heinkel nodded and the Chaos Girls ran to the cars. Heinkel jumped on the driver's seat. It was a good feeling to have Yumie by her side again.
“You sure you can fight?”
Yumie snorted. “Try to stop me!” Her hands clenched around her katana. “That bitch killed Nils and Vicky. We'll hunt her down. She won't get away.”
The engine roared as they sped off, right in the heart of the fallen city. Just wait for me, Zorin Blitz. I'm coming to get you. You will pay.

City of London, September 22nd, 2.15 am
“Lisa, get off!”, Enrico growled, without even turning around. “I've got a crusade to lead.”
“No, you don't! I never thought- It's like I don't know you anymore.”
His green eyes were wild, but he laughed. “I can't believe it. Are you jealous? I thought better of you, Lisa. You shouldn't have come here. Now leave me alone.”
“Yeah,” she spat. Her eyes were blurred by tears. “Dragovic was right, I should have stayed. All I see here is madness. You're not my brother.” She broke off, startled by her own words. She almost thought he was, too. But he only tried to shrug her off again. This gruesome, horrible laugh.
“Yes, die, you filthy heretics! Die like the bugs you are!”
“NO!” Lisa shrieked, without even wanting to. To hell with all of this! To hell with Millennium and the Major! To hell with Hellsing and this goddamn vampire! To hell with Iscariot and the whole Vatican! All she wanted was to go home to Canada. All she wanted was her brother back the way he had been. Funny, a bit silly, loyal, even overprotective, devoted, but not too much. She'd do anything to make that happen. Just make this megalomaniac disappear. She wrapped her arms around her brother's neck.
“Enrico, that's not you! Please! You know how sick this is! It's what Kenzy wanted to warn us about!” He grabbed her wrist and twisted it to the edge of breaking. Lisa yelped and let go, stumbling against the glass wall. Enrico had never hurt her on purpose before.
“You're just a spoiled brat who wants attention!”, she yelled. “What the hell is your problem? Power never made anyone happy. You have Iscariot, you have friends and a family, you have all the attention and admiration you need! What else?” She grabbed his sash and dragged him to the glass wall that he almost bumped his head. She was trembling so badly her hands almost slipped. “Look at this, Enrico Maxwell! Look at it closely.” Her voice almost broke. “If this is what you want then you're not better than that psychopath in his airship!” At the end her voice had risen to a scream and ended in a loud bang. Enrico stumbled against the lectern, eyes wide, the imprint of his sister's hand reddening on his cheek.
Lisa broke down sobbing. All of a sudden her fear of heights hit her with full force. Her legs gave way under her. She was caught and buried her face in his shoulder. Enrico was shaking badly, just like her. He fell to his knees, holding Lisa so tight it almost hurt. When she looked up, she saw his eyes had finally cleared. The madness had left them. Now he was staring down at the battlefield, realization and horror on his face.
“Was that me?”, he whispered. “Am I responsible for this?” Lisa didn't answer. She just wrapped her arms around him and cried all the tears she had held back the last weeks. He would have to face the consequences of this. But now she was just glad he was himself again. The pain in his voice was horrible, but it was also good. “God. Oh God, what have I done?”
“Shh.” Lisa wiped her face and looked down. The battle had long since moved on, not caring what happened up here. And what Lisa saw made her blood freeze. Vladimira had returned and unleashed something horrible, more horrible than anything any human could have done. Dead souls. They were everywhere, crushing the battle lines and killing everything that got in their way.
It's happening. Lisa gasped. She knew what was happening now. She had seen it.
“Bishop Maxwell, the battle line was broken! We can't beat them! There're too many! Dear God!” The scream caused a shrill shrieking in the radio. Or maybe they were screaming like this. Another voice picked up. “Your Grace, I beg you, order retreat. They're slaughtering us! This is no longer a battle!”
Enrico tried to get to his feet and had trouble doing so at first. He was trembling so badly his hand slipped on the edge of the lectern. “Retreat!”, he ordered. “We will regroup once the-” An explosion overhead and suddenly they were tumbling down. Lisa couldn't even scream. She would have needed to breathe for that and her lungs denied her this feature right now. The last bit of wind was knocked out of her when they hit the ground with a loud crash. The truck came to rest on its side, the class cube's wall now on the bottom. Black and red spots danced in front of her eyes. For a moment Lisa thought she might pass out, but she had a task to fulfill. She had to prevent what she had seen, whatever that took.
Her body hurt with every movement. She might have cracked a few ribs, but nothing so bad she was unable to act. Thank God. “Rico?”, she murmured and immediately started to cough. It hurt, but then there was a snap and the pain vanished. God truly had to be on her side. It was the only way this could end well.
A groan not far from her. Lisa's vision cleared and she got into a sitting position. She gasped when she stared right into the face of a Turkish-looking undead without eyes, clawing at the glass. Enrico grabbed her arm and pulled her back. Lisa couldn't scream, but after another second she could breathe again. Enrico had a gash on his forehead. He looked pale and shaken, still a bit dizzy from the hit to the head, but otherwise seemed unharmed. The blood running over his face seemed to glow in the twilight. Lisa was glad she was not alone. The vampire queen's familiars were everywhere, men and women, even some children, in all sorts of different clothing. Tunics, Turkish robes, armor, the Brazilian police's uniforms, rags. Their eyes were only holes, bloody and glowing faintly violet.
“Are you alright?”, Enrico asked her and stroked her cheek. Lisa cuddled into him. He didn't know the same as she did. But she was here now, maybe that was enough to change things.
“I'm okay. What about you?” She took his hand. The bandage had slipped off. The stitches had been removed a few days ago, but it still looked bad.
“I'm fine.” He even attempted something like a smile. “Don't worry, that's hardened tektite glass. Not a chance in hell these monsters will get through that.” They were not exactly the same, but Lisa cursed these words, praying that she was wrong. She had to be.
A bayonet dug into the glass, shattering the only protection they had against the army of familiars. Enrico pulled Lisa to her feet, a warm, relieved smile spreading on his face. “Anderson. Well, that was quick. Good job.”
“Enrico.” Anderson's voice wavered for a second, between pity, grief and righteous anger. “We are Section XIII, agents o' divine punishment. Ye quit serving God tae pursue the road tae yer own power.” Enrico stared up at him, his relief turning into terror, and, what Lisa thought was the worst, resignation. In some way, Lisa realized, Enrico had known it would come to this, if only a few minutes, even seconds in advance. The army of dead souls was all around them. They had nowhere to go. It was over.
“Is this it, teacher?”, Enrico said, his voice shaking, but calm. “Am I to die here?”
“Father Anderson, please,” Lisa called, desperate to change what seemed to be already set in stone. “Things have changed! Don't, please, this is not right!” Enrico stroked her cheek and she spun, looking at him through a curtain of tears. “No...”
“Alexander,” Enrico said. “I know I have to pay for what I did. Get Lisa out of here. She's in this because of me and that should never have happened in the first place. I've made a lot of mistakes, but don't make her pay for them. This is all on me.”
“I'm not leaving you!” Lisa's voice broke.
He smiled, a sweet and tired smile, hugged her and planted a kiss on her forehead. “I don't deserve it, but keep me in good memory. I love you, little sister, even if that's the only thing worth remembering about me. Tell Mum and Dad I'm sorry. I should have been a better son after all they did for me.” Lisa would have rather chopped off her own hands than to let go, but he pushed her away, and then a thick, muscular arm wrapped around her waist.
“Farewell, ma friend,” Anderson said. He hesitated, then said: “Ah'm proud ye made this decision.”
“Goodbye, teacher. And goodbye, Lisa.” Lisa struggled with all she had, but Anderson didn't even flinch. “No, NO! I want to stay! Let go!” But she was already carried away in a flutter of bible pages and could not see her brother anymore. Lisa broke down in tears, just a beaten young girl in the arms of the mentor she had trusted, and who had now betrayed them.

Enrico followed them with his gaze until they had disappeared. Alexander was right. He deserved this. He didn't even want to think about what he did, but he had to face his crime. The memories were fuzzy, like a vanishing nightmare. If only it had been. One of Lisa's nightmares, where he could wake up and comfort her. Alexander shouldn't be proud of his decision to put Lisa's life over his own. It was the only right thing he could have done. As long as she was safe he could die in something resembling peace. Anderson would protect her and after a period of grief his family would move on, too. Suddenly, Enrico missed his parents a lot. Why had he never gone home in the last years? He had been an idiot, an ungrateful one at that.
Silver blinked in the fiery twilight, with a little green. The familiars were hovering in a circle around him, as if they were unsure if they should attack and end his life. He had no chance against them, no matter what. He would die here, all alone, like he had always feared and like he deserved. He had seemed all-powerful, godlike even, looking down on everybody, putting fear in the hearts of those who had despised and laughed at him. That all the victims had been heathens didn't excuse anything. Archbishop Enrico Maxwell had fallen and nobody was there with him. He would fade away alone, for better or worse, heaven or hell.
Enrico looked at the familiars drawing closer, not moving. Dead souls, robbed of their humanity by the dark power of the monster in the shape of a woman. Once this was over, she would draw them in again, and with them all the souls of those who had fallen in this city. Lisa had been shaking in his arms, terrified, but determined to stay with him to prevent what had happened anyway. And he had assured her.
“I'm not planning to die, little sister.” Enrico leaped for the sword, half-expecting to be impaled by a spear or sword at any second. But that didn't happen. He somehow reached his weapon. When he touched it, pain shot through his body, like an electrical shock. The metal bordering striping the sheath began to spark, blue bolts of lightning running over the metal, from the green jewel that served as a pommel to the crossbar. Bordering and gemstones began to glow. What he felt was not just electricity, it was power. The weapon should have electrocuted him on the spot, but on the contrary, Enrico felt only a faint tingling.
The familiars jerked back as if struck by an invisible force. Enrico was glad he had thought of leaving the sheath on the belt he had worn two days ago. It took only a second to strap the weapon to his waist. The weight was reassuring despite his doubts about his own skills. Nevertheless, he had to get out of here if he wanted to survive. After all, the dead can't correct their mistakes, right, teacher? Enrico drew the sword. The blade was shining brightly, reflecting the dark, fiery sky above, and a pale, bloodied face with frightened green eyes.
The familiars advanced again, and Enrico staggered back. If they reached him, they would simply overwhelm him, like an ocean wave a small boat. He would become just one more trophy on their stakes. Maybe his hands were shaking. So what? He was 27, not exactly an age to die.
But the sword seemed to have a mind of its own. It guided his hands where they needed to be. It was not cartoon-like, he was not being dragged around. Enrico had a vague feeling this was what real sword fight should be like. It felt good, although in reality it had to look more like a desperate thrusting than real skill.
The sword found its way through the bodies of two familiars that had come too close and Enrico, still retreating carefully backwards to somewhere he could make his escape from, tripped over a stone. Falling, he had only one thought: This is it. The familiars would add him to their war trophies, another broken, impaled body among many. His left wrist, with the bracelet Cristoforo had given him, brushed the sheath and he could feel the sword powering up. That was the best description he could give. Like the voltage had suddenly tripled. He tried to catch himself before he hit his head again. Hands were tugging at him from everywhere, tearing at his clothes, one painfully ripping out the hair tie including a few strands. The panic he had somehow managed to hold at bay, even forget, hit him hard. He was all alone, doomed to die here without anyone to comfort him, just like he had been born. But he wouldn't beg. He was a coward, but he wouldn't give in, despite tears of loneliness and fear burning in his eyes. He was an Iscariot and would die like one.
Horseshoes thundered towards him, spears ready in the hands of the riders. Enrico felt an electric shock, a sudden discharge that made his whole body tense. Blue electricity was running over the bordering until it looked like parallel miniature jet engines. It was emitting a quiet, but distinctive humming sound, like a starting airplane. All of that happened in only a second.
A blue wall of light unfolded and the rider collided with it like he had hit a brick wall. Enrico felt the impact pushing him back. The force flowed back into the barrier, throwing off the familiars, and then the light just disappeared like it had never been there. Enrico scrambled to his feet, his back hitting a wall. What had just happened?
The sword is old, much older than we initially thought. This is not physics. That's something else. It's some kind of magic. Cristoforo had been nervous, unsure how to describe it so he wouldn't seem like a traitor to their faith, but he had given the best description Enrico could think of.
If he could learn to point this shield or whatever it was... A hand grabbed his shoulder. He screamed and swung the sword a lot less professionally than he would have liked. The blade sliced the familiar in half.
“Enrico!” For a moment, he couldn't place the voice. It sounded familiar, but seemed way too misplaced to be real. Then he spotted the black sedan that had stopped behind the small army of vampire familiars. They didn't even turn around. The car and its driver seemed to be of no interest. Of course not. The vampire would never endanger her master. Caitlyn waved at him from the rolled-down driver's window. “Need a ride?”
“What-”, he managed. The sword's almost-mind saved him again when a Turkish soldier leaped at him. They could have overwhelmed him by now, but somehow they didn't use their full range of abilities. The vampire from Brazil and the woman with the rifle where nowhere near either. He had more luck than he deserved. Again. “How can I trust you?”
She rolled her eyes. “How can I trust you after that stunt you pulled? You have exactly two options.” She leaned over and opened the passenger door. “Get in or get eaten.”

New chapter ~
Caitlyn gets better at this, doesn't she? She has too much of a good heart. And as much as it was fun to write Enrico's crazy side, he's a good guy in the end. I've been waiting for these chapters ever since I started the story.
Feedback?

Cover: Link
Prologue: Link
Chapter 1: Link
Chapter 2: Link
Chapter 3: Link
Chapter 4: Link
Chapter 5: Link
Chapter 6:
Link
Chapter 7: Link
Chapter 8: Link
Chapter 9: Link
Chapter 10: Link
Chapter 11: Link
Chapter 12: Link
Chapter 13: Link
Chapter 14: Link
Chapter 15: Link
Chapter 16: Link
Chapter 17: Link
Chapter 18: Link
Chapter 19: Link
Chapter 20: Link
Chapter 21: Link
Chapter 22: Link
Chapter 23: Link

Chapter 24: You are here
Chapter 25: Link


Specials:

The Countess' dream 1 [Mira's past]: Link
The Countess' dream 2 [Badrick]: Link

Sketch of Mira: Link

© 2015 - 2024 Cedidit
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