Knights, Queens, and Blood
Buckingham Palace – Private Royal Chambers
Very few beings could step into the Queen's private chamber unannounced and live.
Alucard wasn't one of them—he was worse. He was expected.
He stood before the aging monarch, shadows curling at his heels like obedient dogs, crimson coat untouched by time or dust.
"You always did enjoy theatrics," the Queen said, setting down her tea. Her voice held steel despite her years.
Alucard bowed low, hat in hand. "Your Majesty, the enemy no longer sleeps in silence. Millennium has begun to move—and so have your traitors. The clock has been broken, and a new hour approaches."
Her eyes narrowed. "You speak in riddles."
"I speak in truth," he said. "The traitor has been exposed. Hellsing has new allies. The old order is ending—and the monsters are coming out of hiding. Again."
Private Airstrip – English Countryside
The engines of the cargo plane growled on idle as Sir Integra Hellsing and Seras Victoria approached a waiting group of mercenaries—lean, loud, and undeniably dangerous.
At their center stood Pip Bernadotte, cigarette dangling from his lips, one eyebrow cocked like he was born smirking.
"Well, well," Pip said in his unmistakable French accent, "looks like the British finally got desperate enough to call the Wild Geese."
"Call?" Integra repeated, lighting a cigarette of her own. "We're not calling—we're hiring. And only if you're smart enough to say yes."
Pip chuckled. "You know how to sweet-talk a man, mon général."
Seras rolled her eyes. "This is serious."
He looked at her, and the smirk faded for a heartbeat. "I know. I've seen your file, Police Girl. You and your lot? Not exactly subtle."
Integra handed over a case file—photos of Millennium troops, cybernetic enhancements, field notes from David's memory dump, and detailed predictions of attacks yet to happen.
Pip whistled low. "Nazi vampires, huh? Cute."
"You'll be well paid," Integra said. "But more importantly—you'll be fighting for humanity."
Pip looked at the Geese, then at Seras again. "Guess we'll find out what we're made of, then."
Downtown London – Abandoned Hotel
The Valentine Brothers had planned to storm the Hellsing manor tonight. Their livestream had already started, complete with blood-soaked gloating and promises of carnage.
They never made it past the warm-up.
Because David found them first.
No more warnings. No more mercy.
He tore through their men like paper. Luke never saw the blade until it split his spine. Jan tried to flee, shotgun blazing, screaming obscenities.
David caught him mid-sentence.
"You thought this would be the same script," David whispered in Jan's ear. "You thought I wouldn't change anything."
Jan's body hit the floor in silence.
Later – Rooftop Over London
David stood over the blood-slicked rooftop, the neon lights of the city painting his eyes red. Seras joined him, Wild Geese helicopters circling nearby.
"They're gone," she said softly. "Valentine brothers—done."
David nodded. "One less deviation."
She looked at him carefully. "You're changing more than just the story. You're changing yourself."
He didn't answer.
Elsewhere – Millennium War Room
The Major stood before his wall of screens, hands behind his back.
"Interesting," he murmured. "The chessboard's been flipped."
Beside him, Doctor cracked his knuckles. "Shall we accelerate the plan?"
The Major smiled. "Oh yes... Let the cat out of the bag."
Havana, Cuba – Midnight
The air was thick with cigar smoke, humidity, and death.
The club was called El Silencio. Officially, it was a front for foreign dignitaries and corrupt politicians. Unofficially—it was a Millennium nest, housing a vampire older than anyone had dared remember.
Tobal Kane.
An ancient thing with Aztec blood, a jaguar grin, and a heart of blackened gold.
He waited in the VIP lounge, surrounded by sycophants and mortal guards with silver bullets in their belts—useless charms they thought made them safe.
That's when the door blew off its hinges.
David and Seras stepped through the smoke.
Seras had her Harkonnen primed, eyes glowing like twin suns. David moved like a shadow, calm and calculating.
Tobal Kane rose from his throne of velvet and bone, clapping slowly.
"So… the halfbreed and the fledgling." His voice was thick, ancient. "The broken future and the girl who dies screaming. How lovely."
"Your memory's out of date," David said.
"And your time's up," Seras added.
Tobal moved with impossible speed—fangs out, claws flashing, a blur of bone-breaking power.
The room erupted into war.
Fight Scene – Ballroom of Blood
Tobal Kane launched forward, a blur of claws and bloodlust. He slammed David through a stone pillar. Seras opened fire, but Kane moved too fast—dodging, rebounding off walls, tackling her to the floor.
She growled and headbutted him, firing a round point-blank into his chest, sending him flying.
David rose, blood dripping from his mouth. His eyes burned.
"Now," he muttered, and in a flash, he moved.
The next exchange was pure chaos—Kane's claws versus David's blades, Seras vaulting over tables, firing as David drove Kane back with brutal precision.
Kane howled, his body morphing—wings of bone, fangs stretching.
"You're nothing but borrowed power!" he snarled.
David caught him by the throat. "Maybe. But it's still enough to end you."
He impaled him with a blood-forged sword, and Seras pulled the trigger one last time—
Boom.
Tobal Kane collapsed in dust and agony.
Meanwhile – Havana Harbor
Pip Bernadotte adjusted his eyepatch, leaning casually against the side of a cargo truck packed with explosives.
"Mon dieu… always cleaning up the real trash," he muttered.
He watched through binoculars as a luxury yacht lit up like a palace—onboard were diplomats, warlords, and government figures who had been secretly funding Millennium.
The traitors. The enablers.
The ones who knew, and did it anyway.
Pip's voice crackled over comms. "To all Wild Geese—targets confirmed. Fireworks begin in thirty seconds."
He lit the cigar.
"Vive la révolution."
Boom.
The harbor exploded into a firestorm. Screams echoed over the waves. The yacht shattered, engulfed in flame. Papers, servers, and every last piece of dirty money—gone.
Later – Rooftop Outside Havana
David stood with Seras, watching the smoke rise from the harbor. Bernadotte arrived by chopper, still grinning.
"Wasn't exactly subtle," David said.
"Wasn't supposed to be," Pip replied, lighting another cigarette. "Subtlety's for politicians. We're doing housecleaning."
Seras looked between them. "We just put Millennium on notice."
David nodded, eyes still scanning the horizon.
"And they'll answer. Soon."
Elsewhere – Millennium Submarine Base
The Major stared at the satellite feed. The red blip labeled "Tobal Kane" blinked once… then vanished.
He smiled.
"They've killed another."
He raised his glass.
"And now… let's send them a gift."