The tainted cross

Alexander Anderson woke from a deep slumber, sunlight stroking over his face through cracks in the shutters- his bare chest, halfway covered with a plain bedsheet, felt a bit chilly, but at the same time, he felt refreshed. Revigorated, reborn...
A shifting motion by his side reminded him of the why... his hand went up to his neck, feeling nothing but old scars, yet his teeth clentched and the anger boiled up again.
Muscles all over his body tensed, summoning the force of a crashing 18-wheeler.
This woman. This... could he even call that being a woman?! It was neither. It was an abomination... and it should be destroyed.
Before he could reach for his blades, though, a soft sound came from the woman´s lips and he was reminded, again, that he chose this. In a long, patient sigh the strength left his body again and he reached for his glasses, the vague shape of the woman becoming clearer- her raven black hair was sprayed out over the bed, but despite the thickness of it, he could see the pale skin of her back through a few gaps. He could only see her back, which was a good thing- she was probably wide awake and toying with him, glaring at him with invisible eyes...
Calm, Alexander. He reminded himself as his fist clentched up again. It would be your end, should you go against her. More than that- all of Iscariot might fall... despite that man´s wrongdoings, Heinkel, Yumie, Meabh and so many more depend on you.
The massive paladin shook his head as he sat up on the bed, his hand clentching his forehead as his mind asked the why and the how, why did he stay, how did he get here in the first place...

It all started back then, seven days ago, in Italy... when Enrico Maxwell had the pope executed... by his sinful hand. His bayonets cut the holiest of men´s throat, weapons made to protect the world from evil murdered the brightest of lights.... the ambassador of Gods will was now in Gods own domain, and Maxwell, keeping the death of Pius the second a secret, took all of his power for himself.
Iscariot was now free to do anything this man wanted- and Anderson was the only one who knew what Enrico Maxwell was capable of.

-Seven days pior, six hours after the death of Pius the second-

Anderson`s body felt like it was made of mud- slick and dirty, despite the fact he showered just mere minutes ago... the rain that was pouring down from the stars was no help either.
With these hands of his- he murdered. He assassinated, out of a so called command of god... who was he kidding? God had nothing to do with it. Maxwell desired more power, and he, like a fool, gave it to him by taking a life... the media would blame it on a heart failure and hide the body. He knew how these things worked.. he´d seen it before, with Pius the first.
Except back then it was an extremist with a gun, this time it had been a paladin of the church.
Whenever he swallowed, he thought to taste blood in his mouth. As if he ate his heart as well.

As he was strolling down the streets of the Vatican state, long after all rightous people went to bed, his mind could no longer rest. His body wanted to rest, but he wouldn´t allow it. He was not going to-
His train of thought exploded into a single suprirsed stare as he saw the woman leaning against a plain wall- black hair hanging down her shoulders, which ended on her waist, the coat she wore barely protecting her from the rain. She didn´t even seem to acknowledge it. The pale skin, the appearance and the likeness clearly told him she was a vampire... a hand of his reached for a bayonet, but as he lunged at her with the blade- three fingers lazily stopped the attack, effortlessly.
"You`re in no shape to kill vampires, Father." The woman said, a low, purring voice. "Something is bothering you... you´re giving that off. Its like reading an open book... not just to me."
A second, slashing attack was parried with her arm, it didn´t even slice through. "See what i mean? Save your efforts for someone who`s more fit to deserve it- like Enrico Maxwell."
A jolt went through him, he stepped back with both blades in his hands crossed over. "Who tha hell are ye?!"
The woman smirked. "Me? Nevermind that, who are you? A paladin of the church, right? Angel Dust Anderson?" A name he hadn`t heard in a while. "So why are you following the orders of a madman?"
"Ta hell with ye...!" One of his bayonets slipped out of his hand, rushing towards the woman´s face- she demateralized, like a ghost, only to appear behind him.
"There`s nothing new for me there. But if you`d cease the-" Another teleport."-violence for a minute-" another, this time nearly losing an arm."-I was a believer in our Lord and Savior when i was a human. I killed thousands during the crusades- i bathed in the blood of heathens, heretics, pagans. At the end, though, i realized just what a fool i was to think i could please Him by mercilessly slaying those who didn´t believe in him... at best i became one of them. You´re about to stray down that same path, Anderson. Don´t go down that path. Turn back and correct your mistake while you can."
"Wha´ the hell are ye talking aboot..?!" Anderson bellowed, three blades in each hand.
"I`m talking about confronting Enrico Maxwell... deprive him of his position, expose him to Iscariot, kill him if you like- but you and i both know he`s not going to stop there. And you were the only witness to that crime, aside from me- if you ask me, you`re only alive because he hasn´t figured out how to eliminate you yet."
"Bullshit!" He barked, tossing blades aimlessly at her in furious rage. "Ah raised tha boy since he was seven!! Taught him tha ways of tha lord! SAVED HIM FROM CORRUPTION!!!"
"Then let me ask you this..." The black haired woman was standing on two of his blades, her high heeled boots perfectly balanced on the thin metal. "How big is the difference between a father and someone you looked up to for guidance? He already eliminated the second one."
Anderson´s movements halted, and he was quiet for a moment.... she had a point, unfortunely... and silently, he had suspected Maxwell`s darker side had taken over long ago.
"Brotha Miles woulda` been perfectly capable o` it. He`s a formidable opponent." Anderson retorted, not quite satisifed.
"He`s a machine- he can be broken. You regenerate faster than he can shoot." She replied, crossing her arms. "Sister Meabh would be far more effective, from a distance."
"Nay. She´s nevah been goo` at fightin` quick enemies, and her weapon makes a lo´ of noise." He grumbled, not daring to think of his deciples, Yumie and Heinkel.
"Anthony Diem, or Devlin Moriaty?"
"They`ve learned from me. Ah´d knew their movements in advance."
"....Giovanni Renaldo."
"...."
A silent agreement. Possibly the only one more skilled than he was... and Renaldo was a force to be reckoned with.
"...then wha` do ye suppose ah sho` do?"
A smile, fanged and glittering in the moonlit rain, was the answer.
"Come with me. I´ll give you insight on his plans."