Hellsing/GetBackers (Akabane/Alucard)
Title: Battle Flag
Author: White Aster
Rating: R
Warnings: Violence, blood, language, disturbing imagery
Word count: 848
Summary: Akabane meets a worthy opponent on a German battlefield.
Prompt: Slaughter as flirting - we two could make the blood rain down on our dance for an eternity.
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Akabane first saw him on a sunset battlefield in Germany in 1944, ankle-deep in blood-soaked mud and laughing like a god of war.
Akabane himself had found the Second Great War an intriguing opportunity. He'd worked a bit for the Japanese, a bit for the Russians, a bit for the English, a bit for the Nazis, and then for several at once, just to keep things interesting. The Nazis were making what appeared to be rather crude but promising ventures into producing soldiers with superhuman strength and speed. Nothing to truly rival Akabane's own, but enough to pass the time.
At first sight, Akabane had thought that the one-man army was one of them, or, more precisely, an advanced prototype. It only took a moment, however, to realize that if he was, he'd gone quite out of control. He was rapidly turning an entire company of the supersoldiers into a pile of bone and meat. As Akabane watched, the man's handgun clicked on its last round and he laughed, dropping the gun and reaching for the next opponent with his gloved hands. He grabbed the next enemy by an arm and a leg, pulled, and the body fell apart with a sickening pop of joints and muscle giving way, like a chicken dismembered at the dinner table. The analogy was only reinforced when the man lifted one severed arm over his head, letting the blood flow in a pattering stream into his open mouth.
Ah, Akabane thought, from his vantage point leaning against the side of a burned out panzer tank. Interesting.
The battle went a bit slower but much bloodier from that point on. There was little delicacy in the fighting, but it was rather beautiful in its sheer, brutal efficiency. And Akabane's blood ran a bit faster with the realization that he was watching, just perhaps, someone who could match his speed.
When it was over, the only movement was the sinking of blood into the dirt and the fluttering of Nazi uniforms and the unknown man's bloodied trenchcoat in the breeze.
"Well?" English. And the man's -- ah, who was Akabane kidding, this was no mere man -- voice was deep, rough, perfectly appropriate. "Are you just going to stand there?" He turned to look right at where Akabane stood, though it was a hundred meters away. He leaned down to find and pull his gun from the mud with a wet, sucking sound. As he secreted it away somewhere on his person, Akabane noted that the model was unfamiliar. Even at this distance he could tell that it was huge, and from the roar it had made upon being fired he had a suspicion that it was both custom-made and capable of breaking a normal man's wrist, should one attempt to fire it.
The vampire walked toward him with deliberation but no haste. "You don't have the stink of one of these Nazi piles of shit." He cocked his head. "You don't smell like a human, either." He stopped, twenty meters or so away, lifting his head. Akabane could see the flash of white teeth in the moonlight. "You smell like old, hot blood and steel." From his tone, this was not entirely a bad thing, for all that his hands flexed at his sides eagerly. "Who are you?"
Surgical steel flowed through Akabane's veins, through his skin, to alight blood-warm against his palm. He felt himself smile. "My name is Akabane Kuroudo. And you are?"
"Alucard." Alucard started to circle, like a panther tracking prey. "Japanese?"
Akabane moved also, the two of them a pair of dancers in a blood-soaked ballroom. "Sometimes. I've never found nationality all that binding, to be honest."
"I see." Alucard moved, rushing him, and it was just as fast as Akabane had hoped, almost fast enough to actually catch him. He moved, slashing out just to see if he could connect and not at all surprised when Alucard made a slight noise of pleased appreciation and pulled back out of the scalpel's path the inch required and no more.
They stopped, facing each other over a low hillock, and Akabane could see that flash of teeth again, wide enough now to see the point of fangs. "I see," Alucard all but purred. "Well, then." He turned, side-on like a fencer, one hand extended, fingers curled eagerly. "Shall we?"
Akabane smiled, more sharpened steel flicking into his hands, settling between his knuckles. His eyes flickered to movement and renewed growling over Alucard's shoulder. "It appears that we are doomed to be interrupted."
Alucard turned to look, apparently unconcerned that Akabane might take advantage of the distraction. "Annoying maggots."
"A change of venue, perhaps? Or..." Akabane slashed, lightning fast, at one of the soldiers who had attempted to rush him. The thing's arms and legs slid free, limbs and torso thumping separately to the ground over a howl of protest. "...perhaps a bit more of a warm-up?"
Akabane's scalpels vibrated in sympathy with Alucard's laughter, the vampire's long hair a dark, blood-soaked banner in the wind as the regenerated enemies closed in.
Author: White Aster
Rating: R
Warnings: Violence, blood, language, disturbing imagery
Word count: 848
Summary: Akabane meets a worthy opponent on a German battlefield.
Prompt: Slaughter as flirting - we two could make the blood rain down on our dance for an eternity.
--------------
Akabane first saw him on a sunset battlefield in Germany in 1944, ankle-deep in blood-soaked mud and laughing like a god of war.
Akabane himself had found the Second Great War an intriguing opportunity. He'd worked a bit for the Japanese, a bit for the Russians, a bit for the English, a bit for the Nazis, and then for several at once, just to keep things interesting. The Nazis were making what appeared to be rather crude but promising ventures into producing soldiers with superhuman strength and speed. Nothing to truly rival Akabane's own, but enough to pass the time.
At first sight, Akabane had thought that the one-man army was one of them, or, more precisely, an advanced prototype. It only took a moment, however, to realize that if he was, he'd gone quite out of control. He was rapidly turning an entire company of the supersoldiers into a pile of bone and meat. As Akabane watched, the man's handgun clicked on its last round and he laughed, dropping the gun and reaching for the next opponent with his gloved hands. He grabbed the next enemy by an arm and a leg, pulled, and the body fell apart with a sickening pop of joints and muscle giving way, like a chicken dismembered at the dinner table. The analogy was only reinforced when the man lifted one severed arm over his head, letting the blood flow in a pattering stream into his open mouth.
Ah, Akabane thought, from his vantage point leaning against the side of a burned out panzer tank. Interesting.
The battle went a bit slower but much bloodier from that point on. There was little delicacy in the fighting, but it was rather beautiful in its sheer, brutal efficiency. And Akabane's blood ran a bit faster with the realization that he was watching, just perhaps, someone who could match his speed.
When it was over, the only movement was the sinking of blood into the dirt and the fluttering of Nazi uniforms and the unknown man's bloodied trenchcoat in the breeze.
"Well?" English. And the man's -- ah, who was Akabane kidding, this was no mere man -- voice was deep, rough, perfectly appropriate. "Are you just going to stand there?" He turned to look right at where Akabane stood, though it was a hundred meters away. He leaned down to find and pull his gun from the mud with a wet, sucking sound. As he secreted it away somewhere on his person, Akabane noted that the model was unfamiliar. Even at this distance he could tell that it was huge, and from the roar it had made upon being fired he had a suspicion that it was both custom-made and capable of breaking a normal man's wrist, should one attempt to fire it.
The vampire walked toward him with deliberation but no haste. "You don't have the stink of one of these Nazi piles of shit." He cocked his head. "You don't smell like a human, either." He stopped, twenty meters or so away, lifting his head. Akabane could see the flash of white teeth in the moonlight. "You smell like old, hot blood and steel." From his tone, this was not entirely a bad thing, for all that his hands flexed at his sides eagerly. "Who are you?"
Surgical steel flowed through Akabane's veins, through his skin, to alight blood-warm against his palm. He felt himself smile. "My name is Akabane Kuroudo. And you are?"
"Alucard." Alucard started to circle, like a panther tracking prey. "Japanese?"
Akabane moved also, the two of them a pair of dancers in a blood-soaked ballroom. "Sometimes. I've never found nationality all that binding, to be honest."
"I see." Alucard moved, rushing him, and it was just as fast as Akabane had hoped, almost fast enough to actually catch him. He moved, slashing out just to see if he could connect and not at all surprised when Alucard made a slight noise of pleased appreciation and pulled back out of the scalpel's path the inch required and no more.
They stopped, facing each other over a low hillock, and Akabane could see that flash of teeth again, wide enough now to see the point of fangs. "I see," Alucard all but purred. "Well, then." He turned, side-on like a fencer, one hand extended, fingers curled eagerly. "Shall we?"
Akabane smiled, more sharpened steel flicking into his hands, settling between his knuckles. His eyes flickered to movement and renewed growling over Alucard's shoulder. "It appears that we are doomed to be interrupted."
Alucard turned to look, apparently unconcerned that Akabane might take advantage of the distraction. "Annoying maggots."
"A change of venue, perhaps? Or..." Akabane slashed, lightning fast, at one of the soldiers who had attempted to rush him. The thing's arms and legs slid free, limbs and torso thumping separately to the ground over a howl of protest. "...perhaps a bit more of a warm-up?"
Akabane's scalpels vibrated in sympathy with Alucard's laughter, the vampire's long hair a dark, blood-soaked banner in the wind as the regenerated enemies closed in.