Post by Sparda on Sept 3, 2020 16:14:12 GMT -5
“In the name of God, impure souls of the living dead shall be banished into eternal damnation. Amen.”
This was not so much a battle cry for the soldiers of Hellsing as it was an ancient declaration of their intent. Nearly since its inception, it had spoken that declaration in the face of its unholy prey. Tonight, the soldiers were led in speaking their intent by the greatest among them.
Ironic that she was of the living dead herself.
Seras Victoria. Draculina. Progeny of the alpha vampire Alucard himself, she had taken her sire’s place as servant and bodyguard of Integra Hellsing, a sword in the Hellsing organisation’s war against the night to be raised against its fiercest enemies. Such an enemy had reared its head on English soil a few months back. Frustratingly, nothing at all was known about this BOW or what it was capable of, but the ungodly mess it had made warranted Hellsing’s attention. Distant eyes and ears were tuned to watch for the reappearance of this monster, so that Hellsing would be ready to strike it down – and reappear it did.
In the warehouse complex ahead, some three hundred meters down the road, the creature had been sighted on its way to whatever grim mission it had been set upon. Hellsing deployed as swiftly as they could, trucks bearing whole squads of soldiers approaching the site from all directions. Each was led by a singular elite, wearing a distinct patch on his shoulder that marked him as one of the Wild Geese. Mercenaries turned champions of Hellsing’s cause, these grim and efficient soldiers were foremost in the organisation’s arsenal.
From a rooftop with a clear view of the whole area of operations, the heft of her Harkonnen cannon comforting in her hands, Seras Victoria watched the careful approach of her soldiers. They formed a neat and complete perimeter around the complex – a noose to be tightened around their prey. They advanced thoroughly, cautiously, cutting off all avenues of escape in their passing. The gunfire and horrified yelling grew louder as they drew in around the central building, a vast warehouse space with four floors of offices built on top.
Seras would never be sure exactly when Hell broke loose upon her troops.
----------
All of a sudden, shocked cries and peals of gunfire went up over the comms from a trio at the far East end of the building. Just as suddenly, there was silence. The nearest troops closed in on their position, four in number, and found only streaks of blood and a couple of dropped SA-80s. Then those four disappeared in the same way – sudden cracking gunshots giving way to sudden eerie quiet.
“Close that bloody perimeter,” Seras snapped into the comm. “Two, Five, stack up on the east entrance and advance by squads. Keep each other covered. All other units, enter by your closest infil points and begin clearing the building.”
“Yes, ma’am!” came an answer without hesitation. They could handle sudden disappearances of their number; they had handled worse. Seras leaned into her firing position, slammed shut the bolt on the first shell chambered in the Harkonnen, reached a gloved hand up to make a minute adjustment to her iron sights. She fell silent and listened. She had never needed magnified optics. Hardly even seemed to need a clear line of fire half the time, her men had observed for years – she simply seemed to know where to place her shots to bring down her prey.
There it was again, the barking gunfire of her soldiers’ rifles. More controlled and precise this time. They hadn’t been ambushed – they had joined a proper firefight.
“Shit! It’s fast!” Their voices weren’t coming over the comms, but Seras could hear them even under the gunshots.
“You know how to compensate for that! Fan out! Get your fucking crossfire in place!”
“Bring the Barrett forward! Silver nitrate mag!”
”Taylor! Fucking Christ, what’s-“
Quelque chose ne va pas, ma chère.
Seras scowled. Even when he wasn’t present, she could imagine so vividly what Captain Bernadotte would say that she could practically hear his voice in her ear.
I hardly remember the last time I heard them this… panicked. Her own voice in her head, an assessment of the situation. She pursed her lips, climbed to her feet with the Harkonnen in hand, then vanished. A blur in the darkness, she bore down on the warehouse to take charge of the battle.
Hell had broken loose, but the gates were about to be thrown open.
----------
It’s unstoppable.
Half her men were gone. This BOW, this monster that had stood up to her like none before it ever could, hadn’t just killed its victims – it had consumed them. It left emaciated cadavers in its path, their very flesh and blood stolen from them, and each who met his end this way seemed to make the creature faster, stronger, more adept at slaughter.
The only thought in her head right now was the pressing urgency to finish the fight. If this thing was allowed to keep feeding on her soldiers, it might become stronger than her. Stronger than her.
It was hardly recognisable from when their battle had begun. The floor-length coat it had been wearing hung in tatters, torn apart by gunfire, exposing an inhuman body; a mass of herculean muscle encased in shifting plates of chitinous armour that were standing up to their bullets. Walls and floors laid destroyed, where one combatant or the other had been tossed through them. One of her last good shots, at least, had cracked off a part of the featureless ballistic mask the creature was wearing. It exposed pallid skin, a shock of white hair, and a piercing amber eye that stared out at her, a beacon of killer intent that gleamed in the dark.
It still seemed to be getting a little faster, striking a little harder. It was catching her out more often, slipping her blows and landing punches that impacted like freight trains. It was all she could do to regenerate the chunks of flesh ripped away by its fists quickly enough to avoid being caught flat-footed by the next strike. Eventually, she failed to do even that. A punch was thrown, parried, and the monster closed its massive right hand around her right elbow – bracing, twisting, snapping, then the arm came loose in a horrid gush of claret.
She hardly had a moment to scream before the beast closed its left hand over her face and slammed her to the floor. The impact jarred the air from her lungs, though she did not need to breathe. Again and again it bashed her head in, concrete cratering beneath them, fingers squeezing all the while in an effort to crush her skull. Her left arm writhed desperately for purchase, trying to prise away its hand or strike a blow to force it off her, to no avail. She stared up between its fingers at that horrid yellow eye, and it stared back with the same murderous intensity. It was as if she were looking through a window into Hell.
The vampire who had nothing to fear found that she had been reminded what fear was.
----------
BOOM.
One blink of an eye, he was there; the next, he wasn't. Seras crumpled within the crater where the silent monster had smashed her into the concrete and looked up to see it reeling away. The hand that had been squeezing the unlife out of her lay on the floor beside her; the very arm had been shorn off at the elbow by a thunderous gunshot from somewhere outside the warehouse. Seras looked blearily in that direction, focused her preternatural vision. Scattered across rooftops up to a hundred meters away, eight of her troops brandished guns of all descriptions and specialised goggles with which they stared unblinking at their prey.
The first shot was followed by a storm. Shot after roaring shot ripped away plaster, shattered glass, and clattered cacophonously against the BOW’s body even as it recoiled from the first impact. Its severed arm was already growing back, pale and bare flesh in stark contrast to the off-white chitin of its mutant armour, but it had been caught flat-footed, and was taking as many hits as it could heal through, until it finally uttered a tortured shriek of rage and vanished into the offices in a blur of motion. The gunfire followed close behind; these men were adept at following the quick movements of the freaks they hunted, and the goggles allowed them to keep sight of it.
"Ma'am!" called a voice in Seras' ear. One of the boys outside. "On your feet, Miss Victoria! Retreat and recover while we run interference!"
She couldn't help but falter a moment as she climbed to her feet, shadowy pseudo-arm hoisting her most of the way out of the crater. She had ordered them to retreat, leave her to deal with this beast that had proven itself a match for her, and not throw their lives away by drawing its attention. How long had they spent here, not only not doing as she'd ordered, but taking up these positions to mount their counterattack? They must have been able to see her, watch as she was pushed onto the back foot and nearly ripped limb from limb. They had nearly been made to watch the Draculina die... and they weren't afraid of their foe.
On the contrary, they were still ready to take the fight to it.
She straightened up, breathed, and took a great stomping stride out of the crater. The panic was gone from her face, and impassive crimson eyes turned down to peer at the bleeding stump of her lost arm. There came a burst of writhing shadow, bending and twisting into shape, then the arm was back.
"No need for that, Fargus," she answered the worried voice in her ear. "We just underestimated this thing, is all. Won't be making that mistake again."
Every soul present heard the words that came next.
"Releasing control art restrictions. Three. Two. One."
