Vatican, west of Rome.
Deep beneath the main building of the Catholic Church. There's a large room with old stone walls where antique chandeliers mix with modern lamps.
On one of the walls is an enormous screen mounted on sixteenth-century stone, and just above it hangs a silver cross.
The last thing that screen showed was a distorted face with mouths sprouting from the skin and crimson eyes glowing in the darkness, along with a voice that said "I will devour you all" before the signal cut out.
Now the screen is black and the room is silent.
Enrico Maxwell, Director of the Vatican's Section XIII, also known as Iscariot, sits in a high-backed chair at the front of the room. His white suit is impeccable, and his glasses reflect the glow of the wall lights.
At first glance he seems calm, but the vein on his left temple is slightly swollen and his interlaced fingers are squeezing.
"...Fine."
Maxwell breaks the silence with that word.
"We lost Johannes."
Johannes had been one of the best agents Iscariot had in the last ten years. They trained him since he was fifteen, he specialized in vampire elimination, and had a record of over forty successful purifications abroad.
All that experience and all that training ended up being useless in a sewer tunnel in Tokyo, where a brat drained him until he was left like a dried grape.
Maxwell adjusted his glasses with one finger and looked toward the other side of the room.
"Anderson."
In the opposite corner of the room, half-hidden by the shadows of the stone pillars, there's an enormous man. This man is Alexander Anderson, and he's leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. He wears a gray overcoat and round glasses. His ashen blond hair is somewhat disheveled, apparently not caring much about his appearance at this moment.
His eyes are closed. He seems to be dozing.
"Anderson."
Maxwell repeated the name more forcefully.
"...Mm."
Anderson opens one eye.
"I was listening."
"Didn't look like it."
"Listening and looking like I'm listening are different things, Maxwell. You should know that by now."
Maxwell presses his lips but decides not to get into an argument, since he has more important things on his mind right now. He leans forward in his chair and rests his elbows on his knees while his eyes go to the black screen for a moment before returning to Anderson.
"Is what Johannes said before he was killed true...? Has such a monster really been born in Japan?"
Anderson opens his other eye hearing that. He stares at Maxwell for a few seconds with a bored expression.
"Monster..."
Murmuring those words, he scratches his chin with little enthusiasm.
"I only know one monster. And that being is in Hellsing's basement, sleeping like an obedient dog while waiting for its master's orders."
He doesn't need to say the name because they both know who he's talking about.
Alucard. The most powerful vampire that exists. The monster that even the Church prefers to avoid rather than face directly, despite all their arsenal of sacred weapons and centuries of training they have at their disposal.
"Compared to Alucard, what I saw on that screen is... mm, how to put it?"
Anderson uncrosses his arms and puts his hands in the overcoat's pockets while adopting a pretty relaxed attitude.
"A whelp? A pup that's barely learning to bite. Though a dangerous pup. What he did to Johannes at the end with that face full of mouths and teeth looks a lot like the style of a certain monster we all know. If I didn't know it was impossible, I'd say he has some connection to Alucard."
Hearing that, Maxwell frowns.
"Someone transformed by Alucard?"
"That bastard isn't interested in teaching anything to anyone. But the abilities I saw are similar. The blood mist, the transformation of his body that mutated acquiring characteristics from other monsters, and his absurd regeneration... are abilities not even very ancient blood vampires have."
"Then what is he?"
Anderson shrugs.
"Who knows? Could be an anomaly God made as a joke. What I do know is a whelp is still a whelp, no matter what tricks he has. If they'd sent me instead of Johannes, the result would've been quite different."
Considering who Alexander Anderson is, he was probably right in saying that.
Without responding immediately, Maxwell leans back in his chair and looks toward the ceiling while thinking. After a few seconds in which the silence becomes somewhat uncomfortable, he speaks again.
"What worries me most isn't the whelp."
"Oh?"
"What Johannes said before. Do you remember?"
Anderson raises an eyebrow.
"He said many things. He was a man of too many words."
"I mean the title he mentioned when he saw the woman accompanying the group."
Anderson's expression changes slightly hearing that.
"The Seventh Progenitor."
Those words fell into the room's silence.
The Progenitors are the oldest vampires that exist. According to Vatican records, there are seven in total, and each of them is a monster with centuries or even millennia of existence.
"If the Seventh Progenitor is in Japan, then has her sentence already been served? No. A death sentence... can't simply disappear. So a visit in the shadows. Maybe to train that whelp..."
Maxwell murmurs those words while furrowing his brow.
Anderson, however, snorts hearing that.
"The Seventh Progenitor. The one who uses Hellsing as a shield, and Hellsing uses her as a weapon. Kiriko Miyamoto."
Apparently Anderson knew her by name. Which makes sense, since he's encountered Hellsing a couple times.
"Heh. The Seventh is strong, I won't deny that. But she's not the threat you think she is."
Maxwell looks at him with narrowed eyes.
"Explain."
Anderson separates from the wall and starts walking slowly through the room.
"The Seventh Progenitor has a pretty big problem, Maxwell. Do you know what it is?"
"..."
"She doesn't feed properly."
Maxwell blinks a couple times.
"What?"
"She refuses to drink blood directly. When Yumiko Takagi was observing her last month, she saw her always feed only on blood bags from hospitals. She's been like that for a long time. Maybe for decades, since she fled her punishment."
"Blood bags? A Progenitor feeding on hospital blood bags?"
"Isn't it funny? But it also explains quite a few things."
Anderson scratches his chin while continuing to speak.
"What she drinks is dead blood. It's already lost the vitality it has when it's inside a living human body. For a normal vampire it'd probably be enough not to starve, but for a Progenitor it's not enough."
Anderson pauses before continuing.
"A Progenitor who doesn't feed as they should is like a sword that rusts. It's still a sword and can still cut, but each passing year without maintenance loses a bit more of its edge. And the Seventh has been rusting for a long time."
"Are you saying the Seventh Progenitor is weak?"
"Exactly. That's why..."
His eyes shine behind his glasses while a crazy smile appears on his face.
"We must take advantage of the moment when she returns from Japan. Hunt her and purify her."
Maxwell taps the desk with his finger and says.
"A Progenitor is still a Progenitor. Even if she's in a weakened state."
Anderson stops and turns around to look at Maxwell with a smile showing mockery.
"So what?"
For Anderson, who's dedicated his entire life to fighting monsters, a vampire pretending to be something she's not seemed pathetic. A vampire is a vampire. A monster is a monster. Denying your nature doesn't make you noble or admirable. It just makes you easier to kill.
"Even so, that Progenitor has that whelp under her wing."
"You have a point."
Anderson strokes the large cross hanging from his neck.
"That whelp has potential, and if the Seventh is training him, he'll keep growing. Right now he's a pup, but if given a few years..."
On Anderson's thick face grows a terrifying smile as he pronounces those words.
Maxwell stays quiet for a long moment after that.
Finally, after what seems like a long time, Maxwell speaks.
"We'll increase surveillance on Japan."
"Hoh?"
"We can't ignore what's happening there. The situation in Tokyo is becoming more and more complicated. The CCG already asked us for help with Aogiri Tree, but that was just the excuse to get a foot in the door. What really interests me is what's in Kyoto. Or rather, what's beneath."
Maxwell gets up from his chair and walks toward the black screen. He looks at it with a smile on his face, as if he were seeing the image of that face full of mouths and teeth.
"Japan has ghouls, vampires, and now a whelp that can grow to be a monster."
He turns around and looks at Anderson.
"And according to the prophecies, the trumpet of the apocalypse is supposed to sound there."
Anderson raises an eyebrow hearing that.
"Those prophecies aren't in the Holy Bible. It's what the Pope from the previous century said. Do you take it seriously?"
"I'm just considering it."
At Maxwell's response, Anderson lets out a short laugh.
Maxwell sits back down and crosses his legs while his expression returns to calm.
"We're not going to act yet. It would be stupid to send more agents without knowing exactly what we're facing. Johannes was reckless attacking without enough information and paid for it. I'm not going to repeat the same mistake the CCG is making by desperately asking for help because they can't control their own monsters. We're not their cleanup service, those who have no faith in God."
Maxwell adjusts his glasses once more before continuing.
"We'll send observers for now. I want to know everything about that whelp. Who he is, where he comes from, what he can do, and what his connections are. And..."
Putting his elbow on the desk, he interlaces his fingers and rests his chin there while narrowing his eyes.
"...I also want to know what V has been doing lately, using that disgusting blood they extracted from who knows where."
"What if the observers also end up drained?"
"Then we'll send better observers."
Anderson laughs under his breath.
"Or you could send me directly and save yourself the trouble."
Maxwell looks at him for a second or two before responding.
"You stay here. If you leave, the Vatican's ultimate weapon, our enemy will pay us a not-so-friendly visit."
The large man seems slightly disappointed. Shrugging, he leans against the wall and closes his eyes again.
"As you wish. I'll be here when you need me. Meanwhile..."
He opens one eye and looks toward the black screen.
"...I hope that whelp keeps growing. It'd be boring if by the time I get to go, he's not worth the trip anymore."
Maxwell stays seated in his chair looking at the TV expressionlessly.
"...'I will devour you all,' huh?"
He murmurs those words repeating what the whelp said before destroying the camera. A cold smile forms on his lips.
"We'll see who devours whom, monster."
×××
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