Tag: Alucard

Here’s a short something based on the dream I had. I’d like to call it the Wallachia League AU. Just something to test if I could make it work. Hope you all enjoy! (I’ll also reblog this in the morning since it’s so late right now).

My name is Claude Grey. It was the 22nd of April, 2032.

I had to bring her coffee. That would be the seventh time that day.

        To be fair, it has been a really long day. A very long day. Her Majesty’s Loyal Peacekeeper, Sir Integra Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing, had been overseeing one of the largest anti-terrorism crackdowns in half a decade.

        Four werewolf dens in London’s “Full Moon District” had been raided. Producing, amongst other things, forty illegal assault weapons fully-loaded with silver ammunition, a cache of explosives, illegal drugs, illegal anti-surveillance hardware, plans of attack, stakes, crosses. Including their leader, a prodigiously-tall, silver-haired and red-eyed individual who refused to speak no matter the pressure we put on him.

        I’d seen him before, both in and out of work, but I politely held my tongue at the meeting when he and his cohorts were paraded in front of the precinct. The display was all part of the farcical dog-and-pony show to make it look like the city of London, capitol of His Majesty’s great United Kingdom, actually gave two shits about the Mysticals living within her borders. Realistically speaking, these men would be quietly released in the dead of the night in about a month, sans their illegal armaments, and allowed to continue whatever they had planned so long as they don’t get caught and they don’t involve humans.

        Mysticals, of course, being the name collectively assigned by the governments of the United Nations forty years ago to refer to any and all individuals who would formerly be considered supernatural. It included, amongst others, vampires, werewolves, wraiths, zombies, fae, dryads, naiads, centaurs, kappas, djinn, selkies, cyclopes, banshees, and dullahans.

        The majority of normal humans don’t give a damn about any of them, or they favor the more “peaceful” species, the ones who don’t traditionally require feeding on humans.

        Vampires, werewolves, and all of the more “dangerous” ones in the public eye?

        They get spat on. Hated. Hunted.

        Y’know, vampires and werewolves aren’t legally allowed within two kilometers of London’s city center? And that vampire nightclubs and werewolf dens are statistically four times as likely to come under surprise inspection as any other Mystical hangout? Or that murders involving only Mysticals don’t get investigated?

        And it’s not just the United Kingdom, it’s the same everywhere, save for the countries further north. The U.S., Germany, South America. Russia’s the worst.

        Sir Integra is more level-headed than most. All she wants to do is make sure nobody blows anything up.

        So here I was, at nearly midnight, bringing coffee to a woman who’s been running off a mixture of caffeine and sheer force of will for nearly five days. The Loyal Assistant Watchdog to His Majesty’s Loyal Peacekeeper. That’s what they call me. I feel some of the respect people reserve for Sir Integra got rubbed off on me by association.

        I set the cup down on her desk, keeping a cup in my own hands. I had offered to stay behind to fill out paperwork as usual, so my day was running just as long as her own.

        “Here you are, Sir. Yemeni, two-“ I started, but she interrupted me.

        “Yes, yes, two sugars, two spoons of cream, like always. Thank you, Mr. Grey.”

        I nodded dutifully. “Sorry for the interruption, sir. I’ll get back to work.”

        And I had to. There were three three-inch-thick stacks of paperwork on my desk, only half of which had actually been completed. It was all the same paperwork, to be filled in triplicate. One hand-filled copy to be kept on-site, one hand-filled copy to be sent out to His Majesty’s government, and one hand-filled copy to be sent to the headquarters of the Royal Mail Service to be copied and distributed nationwide to all departments of the Royal Counter Mystical Terrorism Service.

        I normally listened to music when I had this much work to do, but I knew Sir Integra would take offense to that. Especially seeing as it was just us here, that evening. Any movement I made out of line would be objected to, and I hoped for a promotion in the future, so I couldn’t afford to have any blemishes on my record.

        Then my phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled the thin, encased rectangle from my pocket, as slyly as possible, to see who’s bothering me. The name on the screen catches my eye.

        “Evangeline.”

        “Hm?” Sir Integra looked up from her desk. I realized I said the name out loud. “What was that, Mr. Grey?”

        “It’s a phone call, sir. My, uhhh… My girlfriend. I have to take this.”

        She visibly grimaced. “Fine, Mr. Grey. But I’ll need you to return to work the second you’re done, understood?”

        “Understood, sir.”

        I made my way out into the precinct’s hallway, away from prying ears. I answered the call, keeping my voice low.

        “Look, I’ll have to make it quick. Now what reason could you possibly have for calling me right now?”

        “Is that any way to talk to your girlfriend, Claude?” Her tone of voice was dripping with sarcasm. Her tendency to find things like that out was starting to make me nervous.

        “Okay, ‘Evangeline,’ what’s wrong?”

        She giggled softly behind the phone. “I just wanted to say sorry ahead of time, Claudey-waudey~!”

        My eyes went wide. I growled into the phone. “The fuck did you do?!”

        “You’ll find out soon enough~!” Her singsong-y voice was driving me insane. “I am sorry about all that paperwork, though.”

        “Ugh.” I hung up. The second I did, Sir Integra called me back into her office.

        Plastered all over the television was news about an attack.

        God DAMMIT.

        The Wallachian League, as they called themselves. The newest radical pro-vampire group in the country. They’d made themselves a nuisance for the past couple of years. Graffiti, hacking attempts, distributing their radical fliers amongst the various groups in London and the rest of the UK. Never had they escalated this far.

        A flaming dump truck had been sent into a house in Yorkshire. Not just any house, but the house of a Member of Parliament who was vocally anti-Mystical. The MP and his wife and children had burned alive in their beds.

        “The Wallachian League is claiming full responsibility for this.” Integra talked after minutes of silence. I sigh softly.

        “They say their leader is Dracula himself.”

        “That’s what every vampire group claims. First it was the Tepes Union, then it was the Fangs of Freedom, then it was Count-down to Equality, the ‘Royal Vampiric Rebels,’ even the… Ugh… Vita-Vegan-Vampires. More likely it’s just some overblown narcissistic vampire who sees himself as Drac’s gift to the world.”

        Things were real quiet. For about two weeks.

        Then we got the news. Somehow, someone had gotten a hold of information that the Wallachian League was planning to bomb one or more of the trains leading into one of the U.K.’s power plants. Nobody was sure which one. If it was one of the coal or biomass trains, it would start one hell of a big fire. If it was one of the nuclear trains… I sincerely hoped it wouldn’t be.

        I snuck away to the alley behind the precinct. I had a phone call to make.

        “Evangeline?” I spoke into the phone.

        “Finally worried, Claudey-waudey~?”

        “I know you’ve all been talking about this, but you’re actually going to go through with it?”

        Her voice suddenly became fully serious. The most serious I’ve ever heard her.

        “Why wouldn’t we? You know we’ve got a message to send to them. Vampires aren’t going to let humans kick us around any longer.”

        “No, it’s not that at all. Look, I know you and Lucy can hold your own, just… Please be careful, okay?”

        “The job’s done. We set it up a while ago. I’d be more worried about yourself if I were you.”

        “Wh… Fuck you say?”

        “’Lucy’ found out earlier. Peregrin told us. The Royals have been monitoring all communication in and out of the Service for a long time. They know the both of you have been keeping the heat off of us.”

        “They… They know I’ve been helping you?”

        A different voice came onto the phone. Much deeper, far more serious.

        “Yes. We’ve already extracted Peregrin from Nottinghamshire earlier today. We’re coming to get you. It’s not safe there anymore. Don’t walk. Run.”

        I could hear shouting from inside the precinct. It seemed my phone call at such an inopportune time confirmed their suspicions. I had to go.

        My car wasn’t far away, but I knew it wasn’t going to work. Parked in the small car park under the precinct, they’d lock it down before I could even get in the vehicle. I had to beat a retreat on foot.

        Well, not really a retreat.

        The moment those same shouting voices exited the building, I broke into a sprint. The fastest, nastiest sprint I’ve ever managed in my life. Sir Integra’s voice broke out amongst the crowd.

        “Grey!” Gunshots punctuated her words. “Grey, you traitorous bastard!” More gunshots. “Don’t you run!”

        That wasn’t like her. My “betrayal” had to have seriously pissed her off for the normally-calm woman to just start shooting.

        I suddenly felt a force, like somebody had kicked me in the back, shoving me to the ground. It only stalled me for a second before I was back up and moving again.

        Dodge to the left, around the bollards and cars, under signs and ladders. Bob here, weave there. Use pedestrians as cover. They’re British, they’re not going to try and stop me.

        Every so often I had to stop and let out a few vicious coughs, which I attributed to just being so unaccustomed to moving that fast for any real length of time.

        And I swear, I had to have set some sort of record for on-foot speed. There’s no way I didn’t. Sticking to the back alleyways, I managed to get out of Central London in just a few minutes, still trying to hide from the authorities. But it was getting harder to move, I just couldn’t catch my breath. As I stopped behind a skip, somewhere in one of London’s more run-down areas, I figured out why.

        Investigating the strange, warm wetness running down my back, I moved my hand there. A thick, viscous wetness.

        “Oh ssssssshhhhfuck…”

        When my hand ran up, and felt the sources, I had to bite back a scream as immense pain shot through my body.

        “No… No, no, no… Nonononofucknonono…”

        Three bullet holes. One perfectly on the right side of my body. Right in my lung. The others in random spots in my back. They had scarcely missed my spine, but who knows what poor organs they had pierced. No exit wounds. I started coughing again, mixed with a choked sob or two.

        I couldn’t die here. I just couldn’t. But I also couldn’t risk moving, not with a bullet in my lung and two more god-knows-where.

        More footsteps. Coming closer. There was a soft gasp from a very familiar voice, and a low grunt from another familiar voice.

        I didn’t have to look up to know who it was.

        “Hey, Evan… Sorry. Hey, Seras. Hey, Alucard. I got, uhh… I got a bit messed up, I’m sorry to say.” I let out a pained chuckle. It hurt to laugh.

        To be perfectly honest, I couldn’t hear what they talked about as they conversed amongst themselves. I could vaguely hear Seras’ question, but heard it better once she grabbed my shoulders to demand my attention.

        “I said…” She repeated. “Are. You. A virgin?”

        “What? Oh…” I grumbled softly. “Yeah, of course I am. I’m scarce two years out of uni. Had no time for any of that nonsense.”

        I couldn’t really think straight at the time. Blood loss will do that to a person.

        Alucard piped up, his baritone voice grabbing my attention more easily.

        “It seems you have a choice, then…” He spoke. “Death. Or undeath.”

        Looking up at him, I spoke back. “Something about a Robert Frost poem, right? Two roads diverged in a wood, I took the one less traveled, that’s made all the difference?” I pushed my cracked glasses up on my nose. “I’ll take the road less traveled if that means I get to wake up again, tomorrow.”

        The decision made, they nodded. I felt a pair of glove-covered hands grasp my head and neck, watched through the corner of my eye as Seras opened her fang-filled maw. The last thing I remembered of that day was the sensation of her fangs clamping down on my neck.

  But I woke up again, the next night.

@gingerkyuketsuki Here’s what I wrote for what you intended to be a shitpost! I may have written way too much but I don’t care! 😀 


        “You want me to what?”

        Alucard thought he misunderstood. He had to have misheard, misinterpreted what his master was telling him. There was absolutely, certainly, 110% no way that she had just said that to him.

        “I said, I’ve agreed to a proposal from the Iscariot organization. For the next week, you and the Father, Alexander Anderson, are going to be changing places.”

        “And what, if I might ask, is the purpose of this… Endeavour?”

        Sir Integra pushed up her glasses, picking up the sheaf of papers in front of her, clearly emblazoned with the wax seal of the Vatican. “It’s to…”

        She let out an aggravated sigh. “To ‘teach mutual respect amongst the organizations, to allow our various operatives…’”

        She pointed at Alucard. “’To experience each others’ roles and duties so that they may form a more proper understanding and mutual deference, for the sake of cooperation in the future.’”

        The disgust emanating from his master was thick enough to be cut with a knife. Integra continued.

        “These come signed and sealed from Pope Francis himself, signed in duplicate by Bishop Enrico Maxwell, and counter-signed and sealed by Queen Elizabeth and Sir Irons. Like it or not, you’re participating in this. You’ve been sworn in absentia that you are not to harm a single Iscariot operative. Anderson has been sworn to the same.”

        Alucard moved to complain, but decided against it. He grinned, prompting a concerned look from Integra.

        This could be fun.

        It was not fun. Alucard found himself assuming not just Anderson’s roles, but his dress. He was forced into the same godawful priest’s uniform-jacket combo that the Paladin wore. All of the clothes had been sized for Anderson, so they fit, but barely. The waistline was entirely too big and the elbows on the jacket chafed. And he was told his hat had to stay at the Manor! The No-Life King, nearly 600 years old, most powerful being in the world, wasn’t even allowed to have his favorite hat as he assumed the priest’s position for a week.

And the duties he had… It wasn’t just the fun stuff, killing heretics and pagans in the name of the Holy Catholic Church.

        Alucard also had to assist in running the day-to-day of St. Ferdinand’s Orphanage, including balancing finances, cleaning if necessary, and taking care of the orphans.

        The orphans.

        Alucard had been there for less than a day before the children began getting on his nerves. The adolescents were less irritating. They didn’t know the specifics of this exchange program, but they understood that this tall, raven-haired man was supposed to be Anderson’s replacement for a week, and they treated him with a mixture of respect for his priestly position, and fear because he’s a nearly seven-foot tall, quiet man whose eyes are just slightly off. He had a modicum of respect for the adolescent orphans, since they stayed out of his way.

        But the younger children… The vampire prided himself, deservedly or not, on his patience. He didn’t typically have a problem with children. But these ones, they could certainly try his patience.

        The first day, the main problem was their constant pestering. “Whewe’s Fathew Andewson?”

        “Why are you so tall? Do you play basketball??”

        “Your eyes are pretty! But scary!”

        “The new priest scares me!”

        “Can I have a piggyback ride?”

        “I found this doggie out in the garden, can I keep it?” A raccoon, it was a fucking raccoon, no of course you can’t keep it!

        The next couple of days, what irritated him was the childrens’ tendency to get into EVERYTHING.

        Timothy somehow got a marble stuck in his nose. Nisha had been playing with rubberbands and had accidentally knocked over a vase, breaking it. Lilith (he savored the irony of an orphan in a Catholic orphanage bearing the name Lilith) had been playing with matches again (AGAIN?!) and started a small but manageable fire. Jack had been playing “army men” again and had gotten into an altercation with three other children who pretty much took care of the problem themselves.

        All of which he had been forced to deal with.

        The children also had a habit of pulling at the vampire’s hair, attempting to climb up his arms, requesting more piggyback rides because he was so tall and they could see everything from his shoulders!

        Some of the more clueless adolescents had challenged him to a game of basketball, but wisely backed down when Alucard stood to his full height and could nearly reach the rim without jumping.

        And the Orphanage’s finances! By the grace of whatever higher power might exist, Alucard swore he had never seen a more chaotic budget in his unlife. Constant fees for caterers, cleanup, salaries, maintenance, clothing budgets, medical bills, supply fees, the ASTOUNDING electricity and water bills, the list went on. And he hadn’t the slightest damn clue what he was doing, trying to go over that budget.

        It was almost a relief to hear, four days into the exchange program, that he would be sent into the deepest part of the American South, under the supervision of agents Yumiko and Heinkel, to hunt down a group who attacked a cathedral. At least now Alucard could take out several days of pent-up frustration on whatever poor unfortunate souls made the mistake of pissing off the Catholic church.

        Alucard could only hope the Paladin was having as awful a time himself.

        He would’ve been very disappointed.

        Sure, it was true that the Regenerator hated having to work alongside the Protestant Anglican Church who, under literally any other circumstances, would’ve been his sworn enemy. Certainly, he hated being removed from his uniform and placed in the too-tight red jacket and oversized red hat which he felt made him look ridiculous. And more than anything did he hate having to conduct business in the presence of the little blonde Draculina whom he wanted more than anything to carve with his bayonets and send her to God.

        But other than that, it wasn’t that bad.

        Training the Wild Geese was far simpler than helping to raise some of the little kids at the Orphanage. God bless their little souls, Anderson cared for them, but he sorely needed a break from some of their antics.

        Conversing with Sir Integra and assisting her in her duties was not at all out-of-place from helping the higher-ups at the Orphanage.

        The most welcome bit of familiarity was being sent out into the field to kill vampires and ghouls. Much to his joyful surprise, those duties didn’t change. Outside of the Manor, and in the field, he was allowed to resume his carving-up of the legions of Hell just like he preferred.

        Anderson even learned a bit of respect for Seras, as he saw that despite her vampiric nature, she kept herself under extreme control and never succumbed to her natural bloodlust. He still wanted to carve out her heart with a knife, but now he’d do so with a knowing nod and the knowledge that perhaps her soul would find a teeny bit of salvation in the afterlife.

        When the week ended, Anderson was more than respectful to those who had been his coworkers for the past seven days, regardless of how he still felt about all of them.

        Alucard and the Vatican officials had arrived at the door. Integra could tell from the look on his face that the past 168 hours had not been kind to the vampire. He stood at his full height, looking directly into Anderson’s eyes.

       Without so much as a “Hello” or a “How was your week” or a “Go fuck yourself,” Alucard grabbed the hat off the top of Anderson’s head before placing it on his own.

        “My hat.” Was the only thing he had to say to the Paladin, who otherwise offered some statement to the effect of having a newfound respect for the vampire and the rest of the Hellsing Organization.

        As the Papists departed, Alucard looked at his master, who stared up at him expectantly.

        “Well, Alucard? How was it?”

        “That… Human, is stronger than I’ve ever thought.”

bookwormmedz:

the-rose-clad-demon-doctor:

bookwormmedz:

You guys make me feel like I’m a cinnamon roll or somethin’

I wonder what Alucard would think?

Gimme about an hour and I’ll write you something for that

I was not expecting this and now I’m excited

Thanks Will, you are the bestest! 

:)))

Take a look-see of this and tell me what you think. I think I’ve got things pretty close, but see for yourself. 🙂

Alucard had been called to a meeting with his master, Sir Integra Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing. There was no sign of urgency in her voice. It wasn’t an emergency.

That meant there was a new recruit in the Hellsing Manor. She always called him to introduce himself to recruits; it softened the eventual blow of learning that everything they learned as children was wrong. Vampires and werewolves and boogeymen roamed the night and the monster under the bed was quite real. He grinned – this was his favorite part. The initial look of complete shock and utter derealization on their faces brought a good sense of satisfaction to the vampire.

He could hear them talking through the wall. Sir Integra’s strong voice, deep, her British accent heavy to the ears. A second voice, a higher pitch, a different accent, sounding very excited.

Alucard grinned to himself as, rather than take the door, he pressed against the wall, body phasing through it slowly. He emerged into Integra’s office, an evil smile plastered across his face. Sir Integra smirked at him, and the figure seated in the chair turned to face him as Integra looked over as well. He was half embedded in the wall.

“Ah, Master, you’ve called upon my services once again?” He was hamming it up on purpose to get a rise out of the newcomer. Her face, rather than a look of abject terror, lit up as though she were a child receiving a new puppy for her birthday. Her audible gasp was followed by a rapid burst of dialogue, something about how “cool” he was and how excited she was to meet someone like him.

Who is this woman? Where did she come from?

She was the new bookkeeper. To be taught to work alongside Walter and Sir Integra in managing the day-to-day life around the Hellsing Manor. Not directly involved in combat, like the others. She wasn’t a rescue, like that blonde boy. She was recruited, the best in her field at what she did. Sir Integra told her up front the nature of the Hellsing Organization and those that it fought, and this woman still took the job with a smile on her face and a spring in her step.

Medinah. That was her name, as she told it to him.

After the introductions concluded, she had been put to work at once. Her work was impeccable, no doubt about that. Alucard had expected as much, since it had been Sir Integra’s decision to hire her in the first place. That wasn’t what surprised him about the woman.

No, no, what surprised him was her immaculate personality. She was too… Nice, he felt, for the Hellsing Organization. He had never met someone so unshakeable in the face of the supernatural before. At the news of Alucard’s fight in Belgium, she welcomed him back with the same chipper smile as always, as though he hadn’t just returned from a battle that was otherwise a complete shitshow. She was always encouraging to the other agents, giving them words of support and spiritual upliftment that had never been felt around the Manor. She took the predictions of the blonde soldier in stride, assuaging his concerns with a statement that everything would turn out okay in the end. Even when they’d returned from Cheddar, the blonde Draculina wrapped in a blanket in Alucard’s arms, Medinah had greeted the newly-turned vampire as though she were just another human joining the ranks.

Medinah’s seeming inability to be fazed by even the bleakest, most dangerous situations was something that never occurred to the vampire to even be possible. Not for a human. Humans were supposed to be either frightened beyond the capacity for rational thought, or so angry and vengeful that they would lay down their lives to fight someone such as himself. And yet, before him, was a human who was neither of those things.

It fascinated Alucard. She had become a pillar of the morale of the Hellsing Organization, her frequent support, encouragement, and camaraderie with the other agents made her indispensable as an employee. He found himself keeping a close proximity to this woman, if anything out of a sense of curiosity. He had long since given up trying to catch her in a bad mood or feeling depressed, it simply wasn’t going to happen.

Alucard resolved to keep an eye her, to try and understand her unwavering spirit for himself. Perhaps there was something this human had to teach him that he, in all his nearly 600 years of life, still had yet to learn.

Things you think each Hellsing and Iscariot Member would like about me? XD

I understand you might have been joking, but you’ve been such a good friend since I met you that I couldn’t resist answering this one first.

Integra:

Definitely your honesty and genuine personality. You seem like someone she could trust which is something she needs in her life.

Alucard:

Respects your resolve. Your unwillingness to give up and embracing of whatever life gives you is impressive to him.

Seras:

Loves your chipper attitude and politeness, you remind her of herself.

Walter:

Respects the way you help and care for others, reminds him of the person he knows he should be.

Pip:

Wholeheartedly enjoys your sense of adventure, which meshes with the worldliness of a traveling mercenary like himself.

Father Anderson:

Is enamored by your spirituality and seeming willingness to consult or work with a higher power for support in your life.

Enrico Maxwell:

Jealous of the self-confidence you have, aspires to having that level of self-belief without others worshipping him.

Heinkel:

Admires your fighting spirit, like Alucard, she highly respects your refusal to submit to unfortunate circumstances.

Yumiko:

She likes your hair.

Haha good stuff here. Can I request jealousy headcanons for Hellsing?

These were surprisingly tough to write, these are headcanons I hadn’t really thought of before today. Hope you enjoy!

Alucard:

Is probably the most overtly, aggressively jealous of the Hellsing members. If he feels like his S/O is looking elsewhere, true or not, he’ll be sure to reassert himself to them. Especially possessive, frequently reminds his S/O that they are his, and he’s theirs, even if this causes confusion when they don’t understand he’s jealous.

Integra:

Very passive-aggressive. Would probably order extra surveillance on her S/O, just to keep eyes on them, but nothing too intrusive. However, she’d probably realize when she’s gone too far and would have the state of mind to sit her S/O down and explain her feelings to try and get a grasp of how they really feel.

Seras:

Quiet, sad. Likely has constant thoughts that her S/O changed their minds about being with her, not wanting to be with a vampire that could kill them so easily. Probably constantly worried about accidentally doing something that would scare away her S/O, so every time she has to drink blood or fight, she’d be desperate to ensure that they’re somewhere they can’t see her. Wouldn’t confront her partner or talk about how she feels, instead she would probably internalize everything excessively.

Walter:

His expression of jealousy depends on who he feels his partner is interested in. If he feels he’s losing his partner to a fellow human, he would likely express a similar internalized anxiety to Seras; feeling that his partner wants someone younger than him, that they’re not really interested in someone as old as he is, whether it’s true or not. If he feels like he’s losing them to a being such as Alucard, he would become very aggressive and competitive, deadset on besting this being in a fight to prove to his S/O that he’s really the one for them, not anyone else.

Pip:

Likely highly disappointed if he feels like his partner is looking to someone else. Would try very hard to keep them with him, including all sorts of romantic gestures that would seem out-of-nowhere to his S/O who’s clueless of his feelings. He fully well understands that things like this happen, but he really doesn’t want to lose his S/O, so he’ll do everything in his power to prove his love to them in the hopes they won’t leave.

Alucard vs. Dragon

Here’s the little Alucard fighting a Shadowrun dragon that I posted about earlier. Just a short little bit of imaginative what-if scenario, nothing too big. Hope you all enjoy!

Alucard wasn’t quite sure he’d heard that right. A dragon. A fucking… Dragon.

Sighted over Ypres, Belgium, it had caused a significant amount of destruction, burning away nearly half of the city and killing fifteen thousand people before being chased away by a joint squadron of the Belgian and French Air Forces. They had wounded the beast, hitting it nearly a dozen times with missiles, but nobody was sure to what extent they had hurt it.

It disappeared off radar shortly after the engagement, but the Hellsing Organization, with the assistance of Her Majesty’s government, were contacted to hunt it down.

The Royal Air Force begrudgingly offered their assistance, in the form of a C-130 cargo plane, aerial reconnaissance to track down the dragon, and a special weapon gifted from their contacts in the United States.

It hadn’t taken terribly long to track down the dragon again. It had resurfaced in eastern Belgium, terrorizing Brussels. The Royal Air Force cargo plane delivered him as close as possible to the site of the dragon’s attack. He could see it already.

A massive, gold-colored beast of prey, easily the size of the cargo plane in which he strode into battle. Talons and scales that glinted in the light of the fires from the city below. Two sets of thick legs and a pair of incredible wings. A wyvern.

Flames flickered around its maw before it spat out another long stream of green fire, burning so hot that even from a dozen kilometers away, the vampire could feel its warmth on his skin.

At the sound of the cargo plane’s turboprop engines, the dragon turned its head. Alucard grinned wildly, eager to do battle with such an awesomely powerful creature. He laughed, stepping back into the cargo hold.

“Nothing more than a canary!” The crew of the cargo plane were visibly distressed by the situation, more so by his reaction. Alucard sauntered over to the plane’s cargo, ripping off the tarpaulin with gusto.

Strapped to the floor of the cargo plane was a GAU-8 Avenger, a car-sized, rotary-barreled cannon chambered for the same ammo that would later see use in the main weapon of Miss Seras Victoria. It had been specially reconfigured with a handle and trigger, sized for human hands.

Alucard took a deep breath.

“Releasing Control Art Restriction Systems… 3… 2… 1… “

The dragon roared, spitting fire. It was just slightly off target, the flames going wide and scorching the tail of the cargo plane. Alucard gritted his teeth at the heat, as it blistered and burned his skin.

“Approval of situation A recognized; commencing the Cromwell Invocation.”

The dragon opened its mouth, and he could see the glow of the flames deep in its maw as it prepared to breathe again.

“Ability restrictions lifted for limited use until the enemy has been rendered silent.”

Eyes erupted from the black of Alucard’s cloak, and a colossal tendril of darkness wrapped around the heft of the GAU-8 to his side. With little effort, he hefted the enormous gun to his shoulder. At the sight of this, the human crew of the cargo plane, very quickly, sequestered themselves away in the cockpit. Alucard took aim as the dragon began making its way in chase of the C-130.

“Why hide, humans? Doesn’t anybody want to see Sylvester kill Tweety-bird?”

The vampire squeezed his trigger.

Even with his immense strength, heels dug into the deck of the cargo plane, the recoil was immense. The gun issued an incredible, graunching roar as it spat forth explosive death at 4000 rounds per minute. The No-Life King found himself inching backward, slowly, by the force of the recoil.

Hundred of rounds went wide, slamming into the ground and buildings of the city of Brussels. Hundreds of other rounds found their target.

The dragon screamed in agony, a blisteringly loud roar that could be heard even over the din of the cannonfire. Dozens of small explosions erupted along its body and wings, bringing forth a spray of fire, shrapnel, and gore as the dragon’s left wing was torn from its body, falling to the ground like a crumpled piece of paper. The dragon followed suit, dropping ten thousand feet and slamming into the upper stories of the Proximus Towers.

The vampire, knowing his job remained incomplete, set off at a run off the ramp of the cargo plane, leaping to the earth below and bringing his newfound toy with him.

He didn’t particularly care who saw him. The Brussels citizenry were already in an uproar as their city burned, and everyone who glimpsed the black-coat-clad man walking at the forefront of a shadowy cloud merely turned and fled.

The walk to Proximus Tower 1 was mostly quiet. The dragon, grievously wounded, growled in pain, letting out a weakened roar as it gazed down from its new steel-and-glass bed and saw the vampire Alucard.

He chuckled ominously. “What’s wrong, Tweety? Swatted out of the sky by a puddy tat?”

Alucard raised the godly gun and fired another burst, ripping into the dragon’s chest and stomach. He was met by a flash of heat that seared his skin, melting his form and the gun he held in his hand. The dragon stopped after only a few seconds, satisfied that its attacker would die along with it.

The vampire reformed slowly, gazing forlornly at the melted remnants of the gun that shot down a dragon. So much for that piece of glorious artillery.

He began to run up the side of the building, his destination; the hole in which the dragon laid. He wanted to ensure it was dead.

However, upon his arrival, there was no dragon to be found.

Instead, at the center of its carnage was a tall, lanky, olive-skinned woman, missing an arm at the shoulder and with countless bullet wounds riddling her stomach. He shook his head, clicking his tongue.

“Disappointing. A dragon, yet not a dragon. A human, yet not a human. You’re nothing more than a common pyromaniac.”

She let out a weakened growl, baring sharp teeth despite her human form. She bore a slight Flemish accent.

“You… disgust me, vampire, demon of the night. I am a majestic being! I am a proud being! Far greater than you and the pathetic humans you so willingly defend.” She began to struggle to her feet. “Filthy, arrogant humans. Filthy, arrogant vampires. I wanted to assert my dominance. To show all of you pathetic creatures who would really rule this world.”

The vampire smirked, his voice deepening. “Pathetic? You’re just a common thug with wings.” He extended his arm, bringing out the heavy, .454 Casull handgun he favored in combat. He aimed at the dragon-turned-human’s head. “Any last words, canary?”

She growled again. “My… My NAME IS-”

Her words were cut short. He’d fired a shot through her head, splitting her skull in two and sending spray of blood and bone to the wreckage behind her.

“Oops… My finger slipped.” As he holstered the gun and stepped over what remained of the dragon’s corpse, he turned to face it. “I have no respect for wanton killers like you.”

The vampire flipped open his flip phone, dialing the Hellsing Manor, with Integra’s extension. He could make his way home now. He knew she would have a shitload of paperwork to fill out.

(Note: Some dragons in Shadowrun can assume human forms, I went slightly different and had this dragon have her true form be a human.)