Hellsing: Unexpected Sin

Alexander Anderson hates two things more than anything in the world: Vampires and Protestants. When a radical group determined on becoming immortals make attempt after attempt on retrieving Anderson's blood, thinking its regenerative properties might help them, Maxwell decides it's time for him to reveal the Catholic church's hidden treasure: a vampiress named Juliet.

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1. Unexpected Attack

He knelt before the long alter, pausing only a moment to light a single candle before clasping his hands together with a solemn glance towards the floor.

"Forgive me Lord," he began, looking lovingly up at the large crucifix hanging against the back wall, "I was tasked with killing another of those abominations yesterday. I managed to do it, but not before it bit and changed a child. I hesitated, Lord. I should have ended the poor thing's misery right there, but I didn't. My hesitation cost the child's parents their lives. And now three of your children have been sent to you instead of one. Please forgive my weakness, Lord. Amen."

As Alexander Anderson finished his prayer, he heard the undeniable sound of children laughing outside. Smiling, he rose to his feet and walked to the nearby window. Gazing outside, he watched as the children were released from their Sunday school lessons and allowed to play in the gardens behind the church. These lost children, abandoned by their parents, had been sent to him from all corners of Italy. Sometimes Anderson would care for the child until a relative came to claim them, while some children lived in the church until they came of age. And, in many cases, the child would stay and work at the church for the rest of their lives. Anderson couldn't help the smile playing at his lips. He loved each and every one of his "children", providing them with everything they could possibly need to survive in the world. He hated watching them grow up and leave the church, but he knew there was nothing he could do about it.

"Something on your mind, Anderson?"

Blinking in surprise, the blonde turned to greet another man approaching him, "Nothing important, Father Maxwell."

"I see," Enrico Maxwell smirked, turning to gaze out the window, "the children sure are getting big."

"Indeed."

"Tell me, Anderson, do you have a weakness for children?"

"Beg your pardon?"

Maxwell shrugged, "I'm just trying to understand why someone of your caliber would hesitate killing a vampire child."

Anderson frowned, turning away from his boss and back out to the children.

"I suppose you have an explanation?"

"I hesitated," he stated firmly, "and two innocents paid for my mistake. I've already prayed."

"Very well, since both vampires were taken care of, I won't dwell on it. Just remember your mission to the world, Anderson. Every vampire is to be killed, be it a man, woman, or even a child."

"Understood Father."

"Very good," Maxwell smirked, "now, there's something I need-"

Suddenly, screams of terror came from the gardens. Both priests' heads snapped to attention. Anderson's eyes widened in horror as seven of his children fell to a spray of bullets exploding from the bushes. Maxwell's hand shot to cover his mouth in attempts to hold in his lunch.

Glaring, Anderson sprinted towards the door just as more bullets came flying. Pulling a pair of bayonets from somewhere within his fluttering cloak, he deflected the balls of lead with ease before anymore children could get hurt.

"Quickly, children," he heard Maxwell scream from the doorway, "get inside."

A small boy, frozen in terror, clung to the blonde's leg, "What about Father Anderson?"

"I'll be fine, lad," he smiled down at him, pausing to deflect a stray bullet, "you head on inside with everyone else. I'll be right behind you."

Nodding, the child waited until Anderson began deflecting bullets once more before running towards Maxwell's awaiting arms. The sound of the door slamming shut told the priest everyone was safe inside. He glared down at the corpses littering the gardens, feeling his blood boil.

"What kind of monsters would kill innocent children," he screamed, "show yourselves, you cowards!"

After a moment of silence, the bushes began to part to reveal three heavily armed men. Anderson froze when he noticed that they were humans!


"You bastards," he snarled, tightening his grip on his bayonets, "pray that god is merciful, for I will not be!"

"What's the problem, Father," the leader, an older man with bright blue eyes and graying hair, chuckled, "they were just some useless brats nobody wanted, right? Actually, you're the whole reason we're here so in a way their deaths are your fault."

"Who the hell are you, you crazy bastard?"

"I suppose I'll give you the courtesy," the man bowed, "I am Griffin Killian, and you will be my salvation."

Unable to listen to the madman's drabble any longer, Anderson leaped forward with a roar. Killian gave a dark chuckle before lifting a single hand. As Anderson bore his deadly weapons down upon the man, his enemy gave a simple snap of his fingers.

Anderson wasn't exactly sure what happened next. One second he was about to kill Killian, and the next he felt indescribable pain as four clawed harpoons impaled each of his limbs. Attached to the harpoons were thick chains, each held by a hidden militia man.

"You honestly didn't think I'd try to capture God's Assassin with just two men, did you?"

Anderson snarled as his arms and legs were pulled as far as they could go, lifting him up until he hung suspended a foot off the ground. He dropped his bayonets, giving a grunt of pain when he felt his body attempting to heal itself only to be stopped by the cold metal.

"If you're going to try and kill me," Anderson chuckled, "I wish you luck."

"Oh you misunderstand, Anderson," Killian smirked back, "I'm not here to kill you."

"Then what do you want with me?"

"Well," the man continued, "I need you to come with me and my boys here. Willingly would be greatly appreciated."

"Like hell I will!"

"Then I suppose more innocent children will have to die."

"You leave them be, you dirty heathen!"

"See, this can go one of two ways. Either come willingly or we will start killing the children one by one in front of you until you do."

"You sick bastard!"

"Flattery is not going to get you out of this, Father."

Anderson pulled against the chains, feeling the one on his left arm beginning to give way.

"Anderson!"

Killian glanced behind the suspended priest in surprise as Maxwell erupted from the church with a gleaming pistol in tow. He opened fire, catching one of the men in his shoulder. Killian's men scattered, providing Anderson with the distraction needed to give his left arm a hard yank. The harpoon ripped away his skin, causing him to grunt in discomfort. As his arm began healing itself, he proceeded to free his other limbs. Maxwell tried his best not to wince at the sound of metal ripping through flesh and bone. Once his Paladin was freed, he continued to provide cover fire while he retreated into the church.

"Quickly," Maxwell ordered, slamming the door shut and locking it, "we need to get to my office."

"What for," Anderson scowled, "I can handle these bastards."

"I understand that," the Archbishop sighed, leading the way down the hall, "but there might be something in there to help us."

As the pair burst into the office, they could hear Killian's men regrouping outside.

"What are we looking for?"

"This," Maxwell pulled out a small leather bound notebook from his desk, "this belonged to every Head Priest since the beginning of this church. There is one entry, written by Father Lawrence 500 years ago, which tells of a great weapon he acquired and hid within the church. No one besides the Head Priests have known about it. I've searched everywhere but I haven't been able to find it yet."

"What," Anderson snarled, "we're wasting time on something that might not even be here anymore?"

"He speaks of a room that I've never seen before."

"That's impossible," the taller priest scowled as he readied his bayonet, "there's no room I haven't been in."

"Wait a second," Maxwell gave a nervous chuckle, "how could I have been so foolish? Remember when the church was expanded over 100 years ago? Many of the old rooms were torn down, but one was merely walled off."

"Aye," Anderson nodded, "I remember that, but I never understood it."

"Come on," Maxwell snapped, leading the way out into the hall as Killian's men began to beat against the front door, "this way!"

Following the Archbishop through the halls, Anderson wondered what kind of weapon Father Lawrence had sealed away. Why had it been hidden from the church rather than used to protect it? Would the weapon still work despite being over 500 years old? Was this all just a waste of time?

"Here," Maxwell skidded to a stop in front of a wall, "the room should be behind this wall."

"Stand aside."

Maxwell obeyed, shielding his eyes as Anderson charged the stone. The large man barreled through easily (though he did dislocate his shoulder in the process) and tumbled into a dark windowless room filled with dust and cobwebs. Maxwell climbed over the rubble and followed him, grimacing when the audible CRACK filled the room as his companion relocated his limp shoulder.

"What in God's name?"

Confused, Anderson glanced towards the very back of the room. At first, he almost didn't see the large, black wooden box within the darkness. However, upon closer inspection, he could make out a silver design in the shape of a skull in the center of a cross. As his eyes adjusted, he could see a thick padlock holding the hinge on the side of the casket closed.


"Tell me that's not what I think it is," Anderson glanced towards Maxwell with a glare, "please!"

"This is not right," the Archbishop began to flip the pages of his journal wildly, "Lawrence never went into detail about the weapon, but I never imagined this!"

"You're telling me that Father Lawrence put his trust in the hands of a heathen!?"

"Now now, Anderson," Maxwell gulped, closing the journal, "we don't know what's inside. Perhaps it's a gun or a sword he hid inside."

"You honestly believe that?"

Before Maxwell could answer, a series of footsteps approached the opening.

"They're coming," the Archbishop shivered, "open it, Anderson!"

"But-"

"Do it!"

With a growl, Anderson threw his bayonet at the lock. The blade easily sliced through the metal and sending it clattering to the stone floor. Taking a deep breath, he slowly opened the door and took a step back. His eyes widened in horror at the creature which greeted him.

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