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 |  Subject: Captain Hans Sat Sep 25, 2010 10:10 pm | |
| Name:'Hans Günsche,' The Captain, or Captain Hans Sex:Male Age:Birthday is April 27, 1838 year 1999, he is 171 years old. Clothes: a M42 greatcoat, green. M43 officer's cap emblazoned with the Totenkopf symbol, green. Leather gloves, brown. Combat Boots, brown leather. Nazi standard combat pants, green. Visual Aid Race:Elder Lycanthrope werewolf Physical Description: HUMAN FORM: Very athletic and stands seven feet tall and three inches. His weight is 192 pounds. His hair is a light gold and is short and almost sloppy looking; as if he does not really brush it. His eyes are brilliant blue, though when some emotions, such as rage and determination are in him at the spur of the moment, his eyes will change to red. He appears clean, proud, and laid back with sharp, hardened features to his face. He also hardly ever shows his face. The most anyone will see when he's in this form, thanks to his hat and the large great coat, is his nose and his top lip; perhaps his eyes if he glances out from under the visor at someone. HUMANOID FORM: His height sprouts to about 10 feet, his blond hair changes to silver and his hands take on an almost 'paw' like feature. The same could be said for his feet. His eyes turn red and he grows a wolfs snout and ears. He is still posses all his abilities in this form. ANIMAL FORM: A huge silver wolf to be exact. On all fours he stands over 10 feet, or maybe 60 some odd hands (measurement used in horses, measuring the with of an averaged sized human hand from the ground to the top of the front quarters or shoulders of the animal). Organization: Millennium Rank: The Captain Weapons:He carries two modified Mauser C96s with elongated barrels and one 14 inch long German Gun Bayonet. (< yes I looked this up in the manga) Abilities: superhuman senses, strength (strong enough to bend steel bars or shatter limbs with a single kick), speed, reflexes, agility, dexterity, coordination, balance, and endurance. His iron-like flesh can withstand Walters wires (which can easily slice solid steel), even as they are tightened around his bare neck. He seems to be able to fall great distances without sustaining any damage. The Captain has some regenerative ability, as he quickly regenerated his mutilated hand when Alucard had shot his hand to free Walter from his death grip back in 1939, the start of World War II. Like Alucard, he can also take a mist like form, proven when battling Seras Victoria; be it this ability is not quite certain what material it takes. Some say it looks like gun smoke and others say it looks like fur. Character Traits:Cold, shy, never talks (mute), Loyal, a gentelmen, will keep to himself, merciful in his own blunt way, enjoys cold weather over hot weather, Has a sweet tooth for chocolate; especially chocolate milk, has no sentimental items; closest thing to one is his hat, and depending on the person, loves to hear people speak since he does not at all. Bio:Hans Günsche was born in Germany (exact location unknown, exact birth date unknown; birth date thought to be some time before 1840) to two pure-blood, or "natural", werewolves. The werewolf population, natural and unnatural werewolves, were endangered at this point in time due to the rise in monster hunting around Europe. This in turn made it harder to find mates, since natural werewolves could only produce offspring with other natural werewolves. Hans's exact childhood is yet unknown, as well as when his parents died. In his late 90's [physical age=late 20's-early 30's], Hans entered the military during Adolf Hitler's rise to power in Germany. He was best known for his immense, almost super-human strength, speed, and unsocial personality. He soon found himself a member of the Kampfgruppe Peiper, a combat unit a part of the 1st SS Panzer Division. While participating in the Battle of the Bulge, the Peiper unit was infamously known for the Malmedy Massacre in which the unit brutally executed about 90 unarmed American POWs. Considered class-A war criminals after WWII's end, a majority of the unit members were sentenced from ten to twenty years in prison. A few months before the massacre, Hans was discovered to be a werewolf and was sent to a man only known as "The Doctor". Research into "vampires" was already underway, so the Doctor was all too happy to test and experiment on a living, breathing natural werewolf. However, despite the painful experimentation the man was put through, the vampire research greatly overshadowed the potential of werewolf soldiers. Hans was instead brainwashed(thus why neutral is in the alignment), his mentality broken completely by the Doctor to the point of total loyalty and was temporarily stationed as the personal "guard dog" of the Major Montana Max. On September 11, in Warsaw, Poland, he encountered and fought his first agents from Hellsing - 14-year-old Walter C. Dornez and the vampire Alucard. Not much is known of what went on during this encounter, but the Captain was sent back to his unit to participate in the Massacre on December 17 and for the rest of the bloody war. After the end of the war, he accompanied the Major through the gathering and rise of Millennium, new-age Nazis now sporting artificial vampires, or Freaks, for troops. The boiling point was reached in 1999 during a massive invasion of London, England. The Captain was sent to retrieve Walter for a certain process, during the invasion of England in 1999. As Walter and Integra Hellsing attempted to drive back to Hellsing HQ, Walter spotted the Captain blocking the road and approaching them. Walter then urged his master to flee, and attacked The Captain with his wires. The Captain caught them in his hands, and it looked like it would lead into a great duel...except the duel was not shown. The Major had other plans and the Captain brought Walter to Millennium so he could be brainwashed and made into an immortal servant. Later on, The Captain leaped from the Major's zeppelin to confront Alucard with Alexander Anderson. He was surprised to see Alucard's 'counter-attack', and backed off for the time being. Desired personal rank: Captain Other:* It is believed that Hans became mute during this time because of the experiments performed on him. As of yet, the theory of his vocal cords being ripped out in the Dawn or during WWII has not been proven. It's all up to speculation, really. * It is also believed that Hans also has a type of FREAK chip within him (on his spine logically thinking since nerve actions, reactions, and such are controlled by the brain, the chip would stop any free willed actions) though it is no FREAK chip; its a control chip. It suppresses most if not all feelings, most but not all thoughts, and makes him obey what it is his superiors, Dok and Major commands. * Can understand English as well as a bit of French and Russian. RP Sample:- Spoiler:
German Countryside
Summer of 1935
23 Hundred Hours
The ride was jerky and harsh one; common when seated in the back of a truck with horrific suspension, and a country road full of potholes. Seated alone and as far away from the opening as humanly possible, a lanky figure sat, legs sprawled out crossed at the ankle. Features not seen, his hat sat over his eyes, his chin tucked low into his coat collar, and long arms, hard with muscles crossed over a wide chest.
On the other hand, near the opening and looking out into the moonlight sat a woman, a musket as tall as she propped up on her lap, stretching out onto the truck floor. She gazed out into the open night sky over Germany. The moon full and her brilliant blue eyes shined from it, her wide mouth pulled back into a smile filled with pointed teeth.
"Vondabar," she whispered, her long braided black hair spinning out from her chuckle and her hand toyed with a pocket on her jacket, pulling out a bullet.
"Untersturmführer Günsche! Obersturmführer Van Winkle!" the driver shouted out of his window. The woman's head promptly shot to look down into the truck, seemingly looking though the back metal panel of the truck whilst the man dressed in a green great coat made not a shift.
"Ja?" the woman called.
"Ve're almost there!" the driver called back.
"Ja, I can smell zhe filthy Jew blood!" she called back with a wide grin. She then looked at the man named Hans Günsche and raised one brow. He was fairly new; the Major said that he would have to prove his loyalties tonight, and that he was a werewolf of all things. She wondered how in the world they were able to get their hands on a living, breathing, still walking lycan.
As he did not react to the calls she and the driver made she nudged his boot with the barrel of her long musket. Still, nothing…With slightly narrowed eyes, she slowly pushed her glasses up farther on her face and looked back out into the night. "Verevolf," she grumbled. She thought that he should at least be nervous since this was, indeed his first mission.
As time passed by Hans did open his eyes but only right when the truck came to a halt, and Rip Van was crawling out of the back of the truck.
- Spoiler:
24.01 Hundred Hours
"Four kilometers from zhe house, south, south-vest" the driver said. "You're both on your own." He saluted and climbed back up into his truck. "Pick up un four hundred hours, two kilometers from zhe house south-east." With that, and a loud roar, the truck started up and began to move back down the countryside's roads, leaving one extremely tall Untersturmführer , and one skinny, almost frail looking Obersturmführer in its wake.
Untersturmführer Hans looked forward before turning his body heading into the thick woods, the Obersturmführer Rip, slinging her musket across her shoulders and following after with little or no effort.
Eyes not even squinting, the werewolf could see clear as day in the dark forest. His nose catching the sent of children; most likely the ones that lived in that manor on the other side of these woods as he walked on though the animal made trails, not making a sound. Rip Van on the other hand made clear enough noise for the both of them with her feet that it reminded him of a small team of soldiers marching. Half turning suddenly, he looked at her while she dusted off her jacket and slammed into his side.
Making a soft shriek, she fell back slightly, her glasses crooked on her profile as she looked up at him snapping at him, "Hans!—" and promptly ceased her snap when she looked into his face. His eyes were surprisingly blank, though his lips quirked into a slight frown as he shook his head once at her. When he did not move, her tone changed to a near shy one. "Vhy aren't you moving?" she whispered, correcting her glasses, hating the fact that even though he ranked under her, he had a commanding presence to him no matter what situation.
He shook his head again and this time, with his hand horizontal to his neck, sharply pulled and then put an index finger to his tightly sealed lips. He wanted silence.
"Oh….. I see Untersturmführer," she said looking down and away, clenching her musket. A few moments passed, thanks to Hans still making his point clear before he turned and started to walk again, Rip far more silent though far more behind at that rate.
He didn't need to cast a look over his shoulder; he knew exactly where she was. He also knew where the target was; the sent of the children still fresh in the air. Their sent was leading him right to the mansion.
Data gathering….
Not to long ago, Herr Doktor stood before himself and Rip Van. That mad man was easy to remember, thanks to his outlandish wardrobe, annoying skinny face, and his voice. Good God his voice was an annoying sound to his ears! Hans found out that he'd much rather listen to a woman's voice than that mans though he knew he'd grow accustom to it with time and that he was easy to get along with… when you said not a word. Aside from the man dressing like a harlot out of a horror fictional story, he was also a scientist, obsessed with creating a type of perfect or disposable foot soldier. Those days ago in the Millennium hideout, Hans had been slowly pacing the long corridors of cement and stone, making his way back to his own room.
SS ranking men also walked the dimly lit halls though they had a motive; someplace to be or something to do while Hans merely took up space with his slow pace. Nearing his own room and opening the large, heavy door the speaker in the corners of the halls spoke. "Untersturmführer Hans und Obersturmführer RipVan report to zhe conference room, level nine section three." Freezing in his spot, Hans closed the door to his room and now with a faster pace, made his way down to the conference room in a short time.
Upon entering the conference room which doors were open, Hans caught sight of Herr Doktor standing over blueprints and Herr Major seated at the far end.
"Ah, Hans! Come in, come in und stand," the Major said and shortly after that, he beckoned Rip the same way. Standing near the long table, both stood next to one another and at attention till ordered at ease by Major. Dok appeared to have a grim look upon his face while the Major spoke. "I've a job for you two," he said with a smirk, folding his hands under his fat chin. "Herr Dok, I should say has zhe mission. So please take detailed note."
With a hard frown on his face, Dok peered up at the two. Hans showed no reaction though it appeared to him, that the Doktor was annoyed about this; something had stopped his research on artificial vampires. "Danke Major," he first said before continuing on, "I need you to retrieve information… data, from a Jewish scientist zhat I knew back und my university days," he said, knocking his knuckles on the table lightly. "This is vital information for zhe Freak program, und as soon as we've an exit plan and enter plan made, you'll both be leaving immediately."
Data. Herr Doktor wanted this mans data. Dok had hit a hard spot, after many years of research into artificial freaks the mad genius had only gotten so far, and found himself in between a rock and a hard spot.
"Come 'here und study these blueprints of his house, lab, und family," Major said and pointed with his head. "You'll need to know vhere tings are, und who is most likely to be zhere… Rip."
"Ja Major," she said as she marched over and peered over the blueprints and files across from Dok. Hans stayed where he was, watching from a distance.
"Und Rip, Hans," the Major said, closing his eyes for a moment, waiting for both to look at him. Rip promptly raised her head while Hans tilted his and looked to Herr Major, "dis id Hans' first mission since ve brought him to dis establishment. Vach 'em closely…."
The rival scientist to Herr Doktor of Jewish decent lived not so far away from Hans; pass these woods and most likely across a lavishing yard. Untersturmführer Hans did not know what this problem was with Dok's research, and frankly did not care. All he cared about was the mission; get it done, proving his worth. Nothing else mattered to him. Not the children even or the fact that he might have to kill them. Rip Van was the one that knew what they were looking for research wise, and also had to watch him; report on his behavior to Herr Doktor and Herr Major.
Hans promptly stopped with these thoughts and looked to the full moon from under his hat and a tilt of his head to the side. He was far tenser than normal, thanks to its glorious loom. To anyone who did not know him, he appeared normal and relaxed, though in the pit of his stomach and how he slowly lifted his face from the coat collar said differently.
He could smell them: not just the Jew but also the priests. There were many of them and from the sounds of it, they were packing weapons. He could see the mansion now though the trees. He could hear all and smell all. The three…. no four children asleep in their beds, the wives' floral sent as she paced though the halls, the Jewish husbands brandy with ice clinking in the crystal glass, and the priests; the sent of old parchment and wet ink with light foot falls as they walked. He wondered to himself why these armed priests were there… perhaps the scientist knew of a potential attack on him for what research he held… That's the only pliable reason.
Rip Van had now caught up as he still locked gaze with the mansion. "Untersturmführer," she whispered, "attack when I say," she said, slowly moving forward. Blinking back to reality, his hand swung out and latched onto her shoulder, jerking her back with harsh speeds. "Hans!" she snapped a little too loudly.
Suddenly he heard not a thing from the priests in the mansion and he growled lowly, annoyed and glared red eyes at her.
"Vhat?" she snapped loudly again. Hans closed his eyes and shook his head sharply and repeatedly is a shame-shame manner.
"Cover thaat dour and yoou cover tha windows! An someone hid tha scientist!" a priest called as he looked out of the tall windows, squinting at the tree line.
"Yea Father!" a younger priest called as he started to reach into his vest to pull out Bible pages, preparing to throw them up on the walls.
Hans pulled a modified Mauser C96 from his side, the barrel of the thing as long from his hip to ankle, and pointed though the trees at the young priest. He squeezed the trigger, the round sounding out, breaking though the glass of the house and hitting him square in the temple, his Bible pages falling to the floor and blood splattering the window and some priests standing by him. It was then Hans opened his now glowing red hues, taking his grip off of Rip Van and pointed her forward while he shot off into another place in the woods to attack from another flank.
Blinking herself, Rip Van looked to the mansion and charged forward till she was right at the tree line, loaded her musket and shot off her magic bullet, whispering something about liberation. It flew straight till it hit the windows, and started to zigzag though them, breaking them and spilling the blood of two or three more priests before they fell back. Looking up into the sky, Rip Van spotted Hans shooting up from the forest and into the night sky, sailing though it as if nothing could stop him. She continued to provide fire power, knowing he'd eliminate the priests with their blessed blades, stakes and holy water before she would enter to aid in the search for the much needed data.
- Spoiler:
0.00 Hundred Hours
He had fallen just short of the roof as he had planned, and broke though the dark windows on the forth level of the mansion, pulling his knees in to roll over the floor before snapping to his feet and charging though that floor, his guns holstered, hands on them till he hit the large open spiral staircase. Running up them were three of those priest, pulling their own pistols and raining ammunition directly at him. Sliding back and forth to avoid the heavy fire with ease, Hans pulled both of his modified Mauser C96s, shooting them with no effort and the gunfire ceased in the open spiral staircase.
Jumping across the opening and to these priest that lay in a bloody heaping collection where they last stood and took their breath, he examined them. They sported Bible pages to create barriers, holy water, regular bullets along with ones that he knew to have silver in them somehow, and also blessed blades. He had to give them credit; they were prepared for a vampire but not really prepared for a werewolf. More shouts from the priests, though in Italian….. Catholics.
He jumped over the railing edge and onto the tiled floor, landing solidly. He had his Mauser C96s pulled before two priests that sprang from hiding behind him shot out, throwing blessed short blades into his back. Not evening stumbling from the impact of the blades imbedded in his back, Hans spun and pivoted on his heel, ducking down low from silver round shots, meant for his head, and took them out from their knees and the main blood arteries in the thighs.
He heard a woman's cry from down the hall to his left and his head snapped to her standing there frozen, wide eyed and pale. "Maria! We must run!" her husband, the Jewish decent scientist pulling on her waste, his face dotted with sweat as he yelled at her.
Hans stood erect and started to slowly walk towards them. Just then, another priest shot out in front of the scientist and his wife, blocking Hans and pulling up his guns to fire.
"Damned soul!" he yelled.
Hans lowered his chin as he wasted no time to bring his own guns up in a blink of an eye, shooting the priest dead in the heart, sending him flying backwards into the scientist and his wife, knocking them both down onto the floor, covering them in blood.
Standing at that intersection of the hall, Hans never looked down at the pile of blood and guts where the woman and her husband, lay under it shocked, pale, and covered in it. He instead raised his nose; one left shouldn't be too much of an issue to handle. Even for Rip Van. No more threats were present. Looking down one hall, he saw broken windows and sensed Rip. He could wave her in from there.
He began to walk casually that way, pulling his hat lower over his eyes lightly and crookedly when the scientist shouted out, "you know not what you do!"
Hans ignored him.
"La— LEVI!" the wife shouted. Hans only half turned to catch the scientist face in his hand, picking him up off the floor and looking at him with a tilt of his head.
The man was shaking with fear for a moment as he suddenly trashed forward, a wooden streak in his hand, slamming it into Hans' heart. When Hans did not flinch, the scientist's eyes grew wide. "You're… not a vampire?" he whispered, his voice muffled from Hans' gloved hand over most of his face.
Hans tilted his head as he looked to the scientist eyes, damn near into his very being. With a twitch of his eye he read this man; he knew what the Untersturmführer was... Hans' gaze narrowed for brief seconds, his eyes a blazing as he threw the scientist with harsh force into the wall, breaking his neck. Sinking to the floor, the soulless body lay limp in a pile, his face slashed open from the impact. The wife who sat on her hip in an attempt to get out from under the dead priest's body, still in a state of shock as she saw the event unfold before her, glanced at Hans as he turned and continued to walk away. For some time, Hans could no longer hear her breathing as he walked.
Pulling the wooden steak from his chest and dropping it to the floor as well as pulling the blessed knives from his shoulders. Passing a door open only a crack with four sets of young, innocent eyes watching him, after seeing what he'd done with ease, the sent of fear spiked around him as well the sent of the youngest boy child pissing himself. Hans had to restrain the enthusiasm in his eyes; that the feeling of another humans foreboding brought to him. Invigorating… Though he'd be merciful to those he did not see as a threat.
These children and mother didn't know. They didn't need to know exactly what he was. Only the husband knew and that was for only a moment before Hans killed him. No one outside of Millennium needed to know that he was a werewolf. His kind was extinct. He was a trump card for Millennium; a hardly known organization. Aside from Hitler himself, the only other person who knew of Millennium was now, perhaps a Catholics pathetic vampire slaying organization. And knowing Major, he would most likely strike up a deal with that Catholic leader to have him remain silent as soon as Rip and he returned home.
- Spoiler:
1.14 Hundred Hours
An hour or so had now passed into the night, Rip Van having joined Hans in the mansion and they were now in the lab. Dim lights in the lab had moths that they let in by accident bouncing off of them, attacking the lights worthlessly. Hans watched them with little amusement, as well the only heavy metal door in and out of this clean, white place.
Clean white glossy tile, clean white tiled walls, clean white cabinets, clear specimen glasses and jars, bloodless white lab coats there in the corner handing up on a rack, not a drop of blood and guts staining the walls or rotting on them at that note and even a body freezer with whole human cadavers in them, clean. Compared to Dok's lab he was use to, this Jewish scientist had a good case of Misophobia or Verminophobia with a combination of Ataxophobia. Whichever he could not tell; this place was just too clean and organized than what he was use to, Dok being the only other scientist he was around and the only other lab he was ever in… which was extremely the opposite to this lab.
So far, that last priests sent had not crossed him; not a sound, glimpse or sent. He was beginning to think that he had fled. He had warned Rip Van about the last stray priest, though like him, she felt that there was no threat in it at all. Yes, that priest must have fled. Not another thing moved in the house at all at that rate to be duly noted; not the children or the now widow woman even.
"Untersturmführer," Rip Van suddenly, drawing his attention to her and the files she shuffled though. "I think ve 'ave it all," she said folding papers and collecting them into a hard case black profile. "Dis are sometings Doktor dous not 'ave in his research collection uncluding sketches of some kind of chip. Our vork 'ere is done!" She smiled, all her teeth sharply pointed as she did. "Und even though tings didn't go entirely by zhe book, ve still completed zhe mission vit ease und Dok should be pleased."
Hans nodded and looked up at the jars that neatly lined the top of the white cabinets.
"I tink zhat Dok vill be please vhit us indeed. Und zhe same vhit Herr Major," she added as she hummed lightly. Hans snatched the black profile out of her hand as she passed him, she swinging her musket around to her shoulder.
Hans scratched behind his ear lightly with his spare hand as they made their way to the lab door. Hans cocked his brow though for a second as he ceased following, his hair standing on end. Rip must have sensed the same thing, for she also stopped dead in her tracks ahead of him. With her blue eyes wide, she was shy just mere feet from their exit.
Pulling her musket, she slowly walked backwards and, pointed it at the opening. "Priest!" she yelled. "Ve know you're there! Die fighting, or tuck tail und run!" She must have seen the shimmer of movement as she squinted and pulled the trigger, sending her magic bullet forward and then zigzagging about.
"An', lo, a spirit taken 'im an' 'e suddenly crieth oout; and in teareth 'im that he foameth again, an' bruising 'im 'ardly departeth from 'im!" a man's voice called out, deep and steady as there was a flash, Rip Vans magic bullet deflected, smashing into bookcases, the pages of the books scattering out black and burnt with embers.
Rip was taken aback as she lowered her musket slightly, "Vhat?" With that, Bible pages rained forward from their exit to all around them, starting to line the walls.
Tracking the Bible pages, Hans shot forward, pulling his combat knife from his side, throwing it at the next page that was to land on the wall. Hans' knife pinned it to the wall closest to a small, caged window at the far end of the lab, severing the attempted barrier as the Bible page scorched, no longer golden but black.
"An' so I besought mah disciples to cast 'im out; an' they could not. An' Jesus answering said, 'O faithless an' preserved generation, how long shall ah be with yoou, an' suffer with yoou? Bring thy son hither!'" the mans voice rang out again in the darkness as Rip Van started to slowly back away from the lab door.
"Untersturmführer…" she said, looking to Hans with a wary eye. "`Dis priest is—"
"An' he was yet a coming, tha devil threw 'im doown, an' tear 'im. An' Jesus rebuked tha unclean sprit, an' healed tha child, an' delivered 'im again to 'is father, AMEN!" he proclaimed loudly as his heavy footsteps were heard, slowly walking towards them. When he was in the doorway, he was towering, as tall as the Untersturmführer as well as large in the chest, but downed a priests' white collar black vest and pants, white gloves and a heavy grey coat. His eyes were a zany green with round glasses, with light blonde hair to match. With a sooth clean face, his lips twisted back into a harsh grin as he eyed them both.
Rip cringed as she looked at him. She even appeared slightly terrified, slowly inching away while Hans stood upright, and did not move an inch since he had directed his attention back to the door and priest that stood in it. When Rip Van was somewhat behind Hans, she looked at him as he continued to stare at the priest. Slowly, Hans moved his hand that held the profile filled with the data that Dok needed to Rip Van, her musket being useless in closer ranged battles, still not breaking eye contact with the priest…
The priest… he's not armed with guns… he's no threat…
With a slight tug at his hand, Rip had the profile and started to back away again, though slightly faster towards the broken part of the barrier, thanks to Han's combat knife. The priest eyed her for only the amount of time Hans allowed for he let off a low growl, causing the priest to draw his attention back to the Untersturmführer, whose eyes were now shimmering bright red.
Instantly, this priest's grin widened. "Ahh; a demon who dous not speak," he took another step into the lab, and Hans mimicked the move, though falling back. A deep chuckle raddled out of the priest's chest at this, and he continued to slowly walk forward, Hans slowly mimicking him. "But He, knowing their thoughts, said unto them, 'Every kingdom divided agasint itself is brought tou desolation; an' a house divided agasint a house falleth,'" the priest recited and suddenly stopped walking. He jerked his hands down and suddenly his coat produced a bayonet in each hand that was nearly as long as his own arms, twisting one with a flick of his wrist. "Tha demons shall be delivered back tou tha pits of Hell! AMEN!"
The priest shot forward as did Hans, though the lycan never pulled his guns. While the priest took a wild swing at him, Hans suddenly increased his speed and dashed around the priest, lining up directly behind him, pulling his foot back to give the priest a backbreaking kick.
As if also reading Hans' moves, the priest spun on his heel, bringing a sharpened bayonet with him, taking off Hans' leg from mid calf, Hans' leg now flopping to the floor. Hans eyes were still red as he purposely ducked lower to lie on the ground as the priest, with his other armed hand took a swing at Hans, in an attempt to take off the lycan's head, though only knocked his hat from his golden-white head. Seeing his opening in the priest assault, with his other good leg, Hans took the priest legs out from under him, sending him to the ground with a thud. As soon as that priest's back hit the tiled floor, Hans brought his fist up, and started to bring it down upon his head. The priest suddenly jolted from where he lay, and Hans' fist shattered the tile.
"Foolish demon!" the priest said as he was suddenly standing, readying his blades for a slash to Hans' neck, another attempt to decapitate. With wide eyes, Hans kicked off the floor with his good leg, creating a back flip, also propelling him some feet away from the priest, and landing on his good foot. Though as soon as he had landed, the priest charged again with his blades thrusting forward.
Hans narrowed his red gaze, anger or annoyance presented. That bayonet that took his leg off had silver on it, and it burned like hell, though so long as no silver fragments entered his body, he would be fine. With that, Hans pulled one of his guns and pointed it directly at the priests head, stopping him dead in his tracks, and he looked down the barrel. Hans, standing on his one good leg remained the same till his gone leg started to grow back with intense speeds.
First the bones clicked to the tile ground, followed by the robust muscles and then skin. Oddly after that, as the priest did notice with the flicker of his eyes, Hans' pant leg started to mend down, covering his calf and then his boot was replaced, all the while Hans was wondering why this psychotic priest did not attack now that a fucking gun was pointed to his head. The damn Catholic could move as quickly as he; superb reflexes for a human which was not known.
Hans tilted his head… the priest could not heal as quickly as a vampire… He's got no healing factor…
"HANS!" Rip Van hollered from across the lab and the now open window, her head and upper body hanging in the lab while her long legs dangled outside. "Come! Finish 'em!"
He's no threat…
Rip calling to him caused Hans to cease his gaze at the priest, and follow her voice. The priest saw this as an opening for an attack, a slash. Rotating his arms, the priest knocked the elongated barrel of the Mauser C96 to Hans' right and away from his body, blades still on the weapon. Suddenly, sparks were being created as the bayonets were dragged up the barrel towards Hans' face.
Hans's eyes flicked from cyan to red; he knew the priest would attempt this move. He read it and smirked at the priest attempt to once again, take off the Untersturmführer's head…
With the next series of moves not even Rip Van could track them well thanks to the amount of speed used. Hans managed to get his other hand around his last Mauser C96, bringing it up as a shield, instantly stopping the two bayonets. Hans had lowered his hips to that of the priest, throwing his new foot up and hitting the priest right in the upper chest with the sole of his boot, sending him flying though the lab, taking out hanging overhead lights and smashing into a row of wooden filing cabinets.
Hans stood straight again, and stared down the now motionless priest in the pile of wood and papers. The priest looked dazed or even passed out with a bloody nose, brow and lip from the impact. Closing his eyes, Hans shook his head sharply at the humans attempt; worthless, though braver to attack with blades against him than a gun. He'd wonder why later, though he had admitted it to himself, it was indeed fun.
Scooping up his hat, Hans placed it firmly and crookedly back atop his head and started to walk towards Rip Van in the open window, holstering his guns yet again. Rip Van gave a vile smile full of her pointed teeth at him when he was only a few feet from her. "Vell, vait till I tell Major," she said… it was when her expression dropped and she paled; no one had heard it, but they both saw the priest charging. And the only way Hans ever knew about it was because of the reflection in Rip Van Winkles glasses.
Eyes widened, he shot for the window, shoving Rip back outside, and making a grab for his combat knife embedded in the wall. The priest gave a blood boiling howl as he slashed at Hans with a down stroke, attempting to split the lycan's head in half. He'd moved just barely out of the way this time, genuflecting, and then with an upward motion, Hans' own knife stroke was swift and steady, slicing open the priest face on his left cheek from the point of his jaw, near to the corner of his eye, knocking off his already broken spectacles.
The gash was long and deep on his face: nearly piercing his cheek and into the priest mouth. Shoving his face into the priests chest, with a snarl, Hans face morphed into that of a wolf, his jaws clamping down on the priest cross and clothing, tossing him aside yet again but farther away.
Laying in a heap on the floor and no longer armed with his blades, the priest covered his mutilated face with his hand, and turned to look at Untersturmführer. Hans no longer retained his wolf face, though his teeth were indeed fangs and hanging in them was the priest silver cross. It clattered to the floor as Hans opened his mouth, still glaring crimson at the priest.
The priest's expression was that of shock when he looked to Hans. Reading his energy Hans shook his head once again, and blinked away the ruby colored eyes as he turned, crawling out of the window and into the night, knowing that the priest was wondering why he did not kill him outright… Hans knew entirely why he didn't kill him; he was not an issue. Their mission was near done and with Hans' knife preventing the Holy barrier from going up fully, Rip Van was able to get the research data out swiftly. The priest, in other words, had turned into a mere toy for him.
- Spoiler:
September of 1944
2.17 Hundred Hours
Nearly a decade had passed since the summer of 1935, and they had been slow. Now that a war was in full force in Europe, Millennium had slowly emerged, though not enough to gain press attention or any at all. The information that Untersturmführer Hans Günsche, now Hauptsturmführer Hans Günsche, and Obersturmführer Van Winkle had gathered at that time, became quite useful to Herr Doktor readily… though only at that time…
Nearly five years ago to this date, they had recovered a whole female vampire specimen. Hans at that time, was not the one sent to recover her. Instead he has been Herr Majors' personal bodyguard… his guard dog, never really leaving his right side. He had ranked up in order to be so. Even with meetings that were so important that The Führer attended, also requiring the presence of Herr Major, Hans stood in the room not far from Herr Major. The werewolf had proven his worth that first mission farther than imagined, and was rewarded so with rank.
This night, the Major dined again; a white cloth table filled to the brim with traditional Polish dining; Bigos stew, Pierogis, Golabki, Chłopski Posiłek, Smalec, Œledzie w œmietanie, Dziczyzna and Kiełbasa lined the table on fine china and shined silver with a bottle of well aged red wine.
"Jedzcie, pijcie i popuszczajcie pasa," the cook muttered as he bowed his head to Major, now seated and silently stepped away, out into the hall closing the doors behind him.
"Vondabar!" the Major proclaimed after one spoon full of the Bigos, and he continued to eat away at the food before him, the music of Wilhelm Richard Wagner played lightly from an old recording.
Hans stood at his right, just behind his chair, watching him eat a few times though mostly, his head remained turned to the windows, gazing out into the night sky. A new battle was brewing. He could sense it; and Allies blood was going to be spilled, most likely those British troops.
A knock pulled the Hauptsturmführer's attention to the door and in stepped Dok, his lab coat stained brown with old blood and guts.
"Ah Herr Doktor, you've come to report on zhe sechzehnie versuch?" Major asked as he continued to eat.
"Ah, ja," Herr Dok said as he closed the door behind him and stood by the windows now, first glancing at all the food before Herr Major, "das sechzehnie versuch, regarding our experimental operations on zhe live subjects' bodies—zhe tumors' formation und body tissues' regenerative rates," he said almost proudly.
"Our initial goal, successfully reached zhe seventeen percent. Correct?" Major said, chomping down on some Kiełbasa.
After a moment Dok explained, "currently, after careful analysis, it's safe to surmise zhat we 'ave approximately thirty Körper which are deployable."
The Major swallowed his food down. "But at present, zhe ghouls can only maintain functionality for a maximum of four hours. If zhey exceed zhat zime limit, zheir zissues will start to decay, zhereby making zheir own organs uncontrollable." Dok said nothing to this, and only nodded. After a few minutes of hearing nothing but the classical music of Wagner, the Major spoke. "Zhey're simply no good Dok: arrant failures zhat are unworthy of being considered vampires."
Doks face dropped to that of shock. "No good! But!..." the scientist caught himself, "I mean… of course not." He lowered his head slightly, his face no longer that of shock, though shame. "I—I'm… deeply sorry."
"Very well… zhey'll suffice, I suppose." Major said, chewing on some more Kiełbasa. "Once zhey're mobilized, zhe battlefield will be doubtless be littered in ruin. Before zhe first flush of dawn…. Zhe allied forces vill be changed into droves of zhe dead."
Dok raised his head again to Majors and nodded, at least the four hours of life the experiments had would result in more death, just what was needed in this case. Hans kept his gaze out into the night as they spoke more about the female specimen, wrapped and strapped down to a wall by chains and leather belts, features not seen thanks to the white straps that covered her body, how much of an excellent specimen she was and how much she was, in fact adding more research to the Freak project as the music of Wilhelm Richard Wagner came to an end, followed by silence for only a moment.
First it was faint; the sound of air moving, slashing and then the strong apprehensive crash from above them. Hans had his head raised out of his coat collar to see and follow, with narrowed eyes the glass of the roof shatter, and flying though it was a boy, no older than the age of fourteen, landing hard and firmly on his feet on the far end of the table, kicking food aside. There was a grin on his face as he moved his hands swiftly, and web like strands withdrew into his gloves. Hans kept his gaze locked on the boy with a hard frown on his lips, all the while Major took a sip from his glass of wine, and Herr Doks jaw dropped, amazed the feat of this child had preformed. Though most astounding, he had managed to throw a black coffin, twice his size, though the window with him.
Slowly moving, the boy stood erect, a cigarette now between his lips and hands behind his back. Raising his chin into the air and grinning he shouted, "what are you lot doing lying doggo at this ungodly hour, having a soggy biscuit soiree…?" His grin grew slightly at this as his eyes widened. "Bloody bunch of pansy huns!"
End.
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