Westminster Palace, England

With the Queen's commands given, Sir Islands considered the Convention of Twelve to be adjourned. The members and guests packed up their files and notes, most of them grateful for someone else their own organizations to be responsible for an eventual fuckup, and began leaving the building.

While Integra gathered her servants and began her journey home, she noticed Sir Islands was approached by an assistant who told him something urgent by the sight but left without inquiring. Good thing it was in the middle of the night when Westminster Palace was used for the meeting, as goverment officials would look up from her present company, including a burn-scarred blonde woman and a long-haired slacker with an eye-patch, not to mention the tall dangerous-looking man in the red trenchcoat. They made the thin man in the pinstripe suit look normal as he walked alongside them unwillingly, as his means of transportation was still in their basement.

"Sir Integra, may we have a word." the Hellsing heir and her party of six, stopped and turned to face an different group coming their way.

Yvonne Hartman, Dr Singh, Colonel Mace and his two UNIT aides were approaching Integra. Jack Harkness left for Cardiff minutes ago, not wanting to get involved with Torchwood One's dealings. She grew a bit concerned about a Torchwood-UNIT alliance, as together they would have both the influence and the resources to make life very difficult for the Hellsing organization.

"Director. Colonel." Integra awaited their schemes.

"Sir Hellsing, as of now Torchwood and UNIT will be taking over your handling of the Millennium situation. Consider yourself and your personnel dismissed."

She took the news with an minor frown. "Perhaps it wasn't made clear to you a few minutes ago, but the Queen requested myself and Alucard to eliminate the threat the Major and his allies represent to England. Unless you wish Sir Islands to get involved and teach you where your place is, I would cease this nonsense."

"I'm afraid, Sir Integra, that this matter has been taken out of the Queen's hands, to my regret."

Sir Islands and a stranger who shared his age, came forward. The leader of the Convention of Twelve and second only to the Queen, had a irritated look. The man next to him appeared to be in retirement, with the look of a jolly bearded grandfather with his tweed jacket and flat cap. There was something familair about him, and slowly a name to go with the face began to rise in the depths of Integra's memory.

"Brigadier! Brigadier Alistair Lethbridge-Stewart! You old soldier dog you, it's been far too long!" With a grin that nearly severed his face, the Doctor sprinted towards the Brigadier who looked suprised for a moment, but than gave a warm smile in return.

"Doctor. Heard you were around, but was hoping in a form I would still recognize, which is apparently not the case. And seeing how young you are now, makes me feel my own age more." The Doctor gave the Brigadier a fierce handshake.

"Aw come on, when you reached the age of 953, than you'll know what being old is really like. How have you been? Not wearing an uniform I see."

"Fine Doctor, truelly fine. I indeed retired from the service, but have remained with UNIT as a special envoy with missions across the globe. One as important as today, however, is the first time since we both fought Morgaine and the Destroyer."

"As touching as your little reunion is, I still demand to know why the Hellsing Organization relieved from it's mission." Integra was neither intimidated by his reputation or comforted by the Brigadier's unthreatening appearance.

"Very well, if you wish to be direct than I shall return the favour. UNIT will be dealing with this new threat on two grounds. For one, they assaulted Torchwood Tower, which very likely meant they were after the alien technology stored there, an theory also supported by Ms Hartman." The Brigadier didn't seem too convinced of Hartman's claim.

"But our greatest concern is the presence of Davros and his Daleks. As the Doctor can confirm, they represent an unimaginable threat to Earth and even the universe itself. The situation has simply grown beyond Hellsing's or even Britain's jurisdiction. It has become a threat to humanity, and UNIT is responsible for it's safety."

The two leaders stared of, both acknowledging the truth but also the pride issues that would work against each other. To preserve Integra's, the Brigadier continued.

"It is also an matter of practical concern, as Torchwood has located the source of the broadcast." The Hellsing party looked up with great interest. "Tracing the signal through sattelite tracking of the feed, we've discovered Millennium is operating from a location within the Amazone region. Which would require your...agent to travel by airplane to a country where a death warrant is on his head, and our Brazillian branch has not forgotten the deaths of dozens of their staff, even if they had been misled by bribed superiors who 'unfortunately' died before investigations could prove those accusations by the Hellsing Organization to be true.."

Integra felt a very slight sense of embarassment, perhaps even shame at what she allowed Alucard to commit that night. But she believed Millennium would only have continued sending human minions to die if they knew Hellsing was to avoid any human casualties, so her choice of letting the vampire loose onto the Brazillian UNIT forces was justified. That was her conviction.

"But even if you managed to get him into the country, there is no garantuee he would make it in time or succesfully destroy the Daleks."

"So if Alucard is not up to the task, what will?" Before the meeting, 'Daleks' sounded like another cheap imagination conjured by the Doctor. But seeing them for real, even in a remote broadcast and sensing the dread they caused in powerful men who had a lifetime of expierence, made Integra agree to them being an severe threat, though she had confidence in Alucard still being the single most dangerous thing to ever walk this planet.

"Normally I would ask for the Doctor's assistance regarding such an dangerous foe as Davros-" The Doctor smiled at his expertise being acknowledged. "-But without the TARDIS operating he is similairly disabled. Therefor, the Valiant will receive orders to move to the target and annihilate the site completly. This can and will be done in less than four hours."

"The Valiant?" One of the thing he both admired and disliked about humans that they often came with suprises, nice and terrible ones. Some times it was the hula hoop, some times it was VX toxin gas.

"Trust me Doctor, we have not been sitting idle in these last few years. The end result of combining several breakthrough technologies, with the assistance of Torchwood and the British Ministry of Defense, the Valiant is the newest means of defense against humanity's enemies, foreign and domestic. It is an aerial carrier ship, the first of it's kind with VTOL engines that can suspend the vessel at great heights indefintely, manned by a crew of hundreds with room for thousands, and carries a incredible-"

The Brigadier's speech, showing his pride of the Valiant that likely had him involved heavily, was interrupted by Colonel Mace. "All due respect, Brigadier-General, it is best not to give too much details to non-associated civillians." Mace clearly meant the Hellsing people, but could include an alien like the Doctor who in the past disagreed with UNIT and the British goverment on decisions. They remembered what he did to Harriet Jones with only six words. And so did the Brigadier, who's feelings of reunion had faded enough to be more strict against his old friend.

"In any case, the Valiant will be up to the task. It's current location is above the Atlantic ocean, heading for Brazillian airspace with permission of the United Nations. It's weapons will preform a full strike on the enemy's location and eliminate their threat, and this will all be over in a few hours. Certainly sounds like an better idea than sending a creature of the night and have it take out the Daleks by hand."

"Well, it does indeed sound less messy. But it still shares the same flaw."

"Which is?"

"Not involving me going along. None of you have any idea what the presence of Davros means. Someone escaping from a timelocked event in which I clearly remembered him dying. Not only does that mean he's become more dangerous than he was already was, it also means others could have escaped."

"More Daleks?" The question came from Integra, who preferred dealing with vampires.

"Possibly. It could also mean other Time Lords."

"..But that would be a good thing, right Doctor?" Hartman joined in, thrilled at the prospect of more sources of knowledge.

"Not all of my people were as interested in the well-being of others. To be truthful, most were indifferent regarding anything smaller than a star system. And some were considerably worse..most of them starting with an 'M' oddily enough."

"I'm sorry Doctor, but while sharing your fear in the return of one fiendish fellow, the order has already been given and the Valiant is on it's way. I'd of course would advise against you using the TARDIS, but from what I am told the old girl has suffered some damage. Like old times."

"The TARDIS wasn't broken in those days, Brigadier. And the Time Lords themselves being involved in it's disuse is an less embarassing cause than a priest with a knife fetish. I do hope for this planet's sake this action will work. You'll be deciding the fate of the universe today."

While the men talked of things she'd thought to be the stuff of Saturday entertainment, aliens and Time Lords, Seras was being distracted by an sensation that felt unnatural and chilling. She felt like she was being watched by cold soulless eyes, and they weren't Master's. In fact, even with her above human senses she could not detect the source of the feeling, and views given to her by those in the room were mostly short glances from the males, indecently aimed at her torso. When she couldn't take it she turned to her Master.

"Master, I..."

"-Feel as if inhuman eyes are probing every inch of your body with malicious intentions. Yes, wonderful, isn't it? Not knowing who or where, it only promises an opponent of power and skill. Finally, there may be someone else than the fat Nazi officer to wage war against, and yes, even be suitable to kill me. These are the good days, and full of carnage and suffering they shall be..oh yes."

Seras sighed, asking herself one more time if the decision to have Master turn her into his ilk, was less rational than accepting an merciful death. The parties had finally spoken their words and began to depart, in different directions and intentions. The corridor quickly emptied and within minutes the palace was resigned to it's usual nocturnal silence that would last until dawn. Long before that happend, dim shapes began to phase through the corridors, having stood only metres away from the conversation. If caught by human eyes, they would be called ghosts, and originally, that was the intention. But plans changed, and so did their orders until the hour upon they would emerge and remove all aggresive elements.

South America

Deep within the bowels of the ancient base, monsters in various form walked the hallway leading to the central command center from which they would proceed their insane plans. The Captain and Dok walked behind the Major and Davros, a sneer prominent on the Dok's face as his eyes followed the arrogant genius from Skaro. The Captain as usual gave no hint of his emotions, and the Major was outright cheerful.

"Major, you would think it was wise to reveal our presence before our plans come to realization? The Doctor is a serious pest, and his human allies have proven to be troublesome opponents despite their inferiority."

"Are you...terrified of zem? Are you doubting the capability of your own children, against those of Earth?" The tone was playful, but Davros had no concept of 'playfulness'.

"How dare you! Greater men have suffered dearly for such insults! I would have my Daleks eradicate this base from the face of the earth!" Davros's rage was unlike any in the universe.

Dok grew nervous, as an scientist he never developed a liking or understanding of combat that was surely soon to follow. The Captain as a bodyguard should be responding to this threat, but remained as still as ever. The Major laughed, heartily. "Ach good, I was afraid you lost your passion. Excellent, let us continue."

The genius was left confused as the Major and his subordinates walked on. He quickly followed in his mobile lifesupport chair, his massive intellect not sure on wether he has been insulted or complimented in the end. The central command center was an enormous circular space, the walls covered in viewscreens that displayed geographic maps and positions of military installations throughout the world. Most occupants were officers in Millenium, who raised their right arms in the old salute at the sight of their leader, with a handful of the white-gold painted Daleks turning to face theirs. A chair attached to an metallic arm raised high above the ground, lowered itself and revealed someone whom should not be expected to be here, or alive.

"You're so slow. In the time you and Herr Robocripple took to walk down a little hallway, I got my head blown off in England and got back here. Maybe you should consider going on a diet."

"Hahaha, I'm afraid I can't do that."

Of all his subjects, the Major considered Schrödinger to be his favourite. While insanity was common in Millenium, he and the catboy shared a similair one. Seeing the funny side of death, with both incapable of dying by convential means. Dok was shocked by the catboy's attitude and grabbed him by the neck like a naughty kitten.

"Show more respect to your superiors, Warrant Officer Schrödinger!"

"It is alright, Dokter. The Warrant Officer succeeded in his mission."

Schrödinger smiled mockingly when his creator was forced to let him go without punishment for his insolence, very much against his will. The Major took his seat upon the chair, taking a moment to enjoy the breath before the irreversible plunge. He could almost hear the sound of drums, a foreboding rhythm to the battle that awaits.

In the remote jungle of the Amazone, local wildlife was disturbed and scared off by the sudden trembling of the surface. Giant gaps in the earth appeared as the hangarbay doors were being opened. Orders to launch were shouted, men ran to their stations and doors were shut. The captains of Millenium's transports gave the commands to prepare for departure. Material and manpower were accounted and all exits were closed. Engines were fired up and flaps moved into position. The docking clamps that restrained the zepplins were released with mechanical groans, and within minutes the three seperate balloon ships ascended to the sky.

Deus ex Machina, and it's two smaller sister ships Graf Zeppelin II and Hindenburg II began their long journey towards their final target. Within the command center with everyone distracted by the glorious, no one noticed the small blip on the viewscreen wall approaching a much larger blip, with the title Valiant.

UNCS Valiant

Hovering above the Southern Atlantic as a sky fortress that span a thousand metres and more in sheer length and with a arsenal rivaling that of most nations, it was still a suprise a contact without an proper identification heading for their direction with a speed and angle that would indictate unauthorized landing. Or an enemy attack, both possibilites thought profoundly ridiculous.

'Heute wollen wir ein Liedlein singen,

Trinken wollen wir den kühlen Wein...'

On the bridge, that doubled as a conference room for UNIT high-rankers or the leaders of nations, no panic errupted and with almost mocking calmness crewmembers attended to their stations and sent warning messages to the incoming contact. By the time the third and final warning came, the contact was close enough for a sensor sweep. It was an Eurocopter NH90 tactical transport helicopter, with no transponder signal or IFF. When it came close enough for visual identification, it appeared to not even have any official markings or registration.

To the commanding officer of the Valiant, General Kapoor of the Indian UNIT branch, it became obvious that whoever was flying the transport had hostile intentions. He considered allowing it to land and have security teams secure the passengers for questioning, but they could be carrying a bomb for all they knew. Or be living weapons themselves.

'Und die Gläser sollen dazu klingen,

Denn es muß, es muß geschieden sein...'

"Weapons Control, lock CWIS onto unknown contact and open fire." It'd be a matter of seconds before the 30mm Goalkeepers removed the possible threat and Kapoor to return to his lunch.

"Belay that."

Kapoor and most of the bridge crew turned to the second-in-command who just arrived on the bridge, Commander Tweedy of the Royal Navy, who had been mostly absent from the crew ever since returning from his appointment with a doctor in Rio de Janeiro. They knew him as a grim and deadly serious individual, so the wide grin he was making was rather unusual. His whole appearance seemed a bit stranger, pale skin and bloodshot eyes.

'Gib' mir deine Hand, deine weiße Hand...'

Oh my god....the man is on drugs. Kapoor realized with a shock. While totally inappropiate for an officer on such an esteemed vessel as the Valiant to be using narcotics, Kapoor prevented himself from making a smile at Tweedy who normally did not even smoke or drank. If he could make him leave the bridge quick enough and report to sickbay, Tweedy might not receive a court martial.

"Commander, are you feeling alright?"

"Never better blacky!" The high-pitched remark brought silence to the bridge who all stared at Tweedy still grinning like a madman. Now a court martial was unavoidable to Kapoor who nodded to a crewmember.

"Inform Security to send a detail to the bridge to detain Commander Tweedy for insulting an superior officer and bring him to the brig." Kapoor turned back to the radar to focus on the more important and less offensive situation.

"I think would you would be better off asking for a cleaning crew." Tweedy removed his officer cap and the extensive grin revealed an sinister revelation to the sudden astonished crew. Their expressions made the General turn back to Tweedy, but before Kapoor could respond his XO made an inhuman leap through the air and sank his shark-like teeth into the officer's neck, and rip it away with one bite. Kapoor's blood was splashed across the bridge, covering the nearby consoles.

A single crewmember not overtaken by shock and suprise slammed his hand down on the emergency button that alerted security of intruders, a moment before the hand was grabbed and along with the arm pulled off from it's socket. The crewmember screamed at the agony, before a closed fist removed his head from the torso sending it flying through the bridge's windows. The assailant, an ordinary crewmember with the same eyes as Tweedy's that now glowed red, was joined by another who together with the Commander turned the bridge into a slaughterhouse that painted the walls, windows and stations with gallons of the crimson liquid.

'Leb' wohl, mein Schatz, leb' wohl mein Schatz,

Leb' wohl, lebe wohl...'

Not that far away, men in black BDU's and red berets were trampling the corridors, wielding assault rifles and shotguns, as alarm sirenes echoed and red LED's blinked on through out the ship. The lieutenant in charge had little info on what was happening on the bridge, but it was certainly not good.

They were nearly there, when they stopped to face the two soldiers assigned to bridge duty this very day. But instead of being there, stopping whatever attack was taking place, they were gorging themselves. On crewmembers. One of them had his face pressed into the shredded remains of a man's throat, and was biting and chewing like some wild beasts. The other soldier rose from his victim while smearing the blood off his chin, and looked up to the lieutenant, who's troops who aimed their weapons at the two monsters. The soldier tapped his comrade on the shoulder, who stopped feasting and glared at the newcomers with the same red glowing orbs that used to be human eyes.

"Hey Ken, looks like the cavalry arrived." There was a inhuman depth to the voice.

"Good. I was almost finished with this one...and I'm still hungry!" The soldier-turned-vampire dropped the carcas, and began moving with the speed of sound towards his newest prey.

"Open fire!" The lieutenant and his men unloaded their weapons at the two vampires, who became vague blurs and approached with sickeningly speed. Concentrated gunfire tore off the arm of one of them, but it barely slowed him down, and his other arm was sufficient for ramming it through the lieutenant's face, the fist erupting from the back of the skull. The other vampire used his claws to rip out a soldier's throat, and backhand another who was hit with so much force his spine snapped on impact against the bulkhead. The security detail was cut down in an eye blink.

The vampires howled as the beasts they were, one even ignoring the bloody stump that was his right arm, unleashing their most primal nature with all civilization and ethics removed entirely. Than the search for more warm flesh and blood continued.

All over the Valiant, the agents that Millennium planted within UNIT long before announcing it's existence began their part in butchering their fellow crewmembers. What was contained to the bridge now happend in the messhall, the sleeping quarters, the armoury, the flightdecks and hangers, and the many hallways and corridors on the gigantic ship. And the vampires were only the start, as soon the dead began to rise, as ghouls. The few security details who had the premature fortune of not fighting their traitor collagues, were overwhelmed by the hordes of mindless scavengers who did not fall down no matter how many bullets ripped their bodies apart. Within minutes the crew of thousands was being reduced to an bare handful who's death was literally around any corner.

"...Denn wir fahren, denn wir fahren,

Denn wir fahren gegen Engeland, Engeland.'

While the internal carnage took place, on the flight deck the helicopter had finally arrived and began landing. Inside the vehicle, a female covered in the shadows was finishing the loading of her antique musket that was kept in prime condition. No one asked her why she brought along such an ancient and ineffective-seeming weapon along. They all knew why.

As the helicopter touched down and powered down it's engines, out came Rip van Winkle, Obersturmführer, better known as First Lieutenant in the modern Western world, of the Letze Battalion. Her high rank allowed her to dress casual, as if the long raven hair and the small round glasses made it hard for strangers to believe she was a soldier. An extremely deadly soldier. She glanced around the vast and abandoned space of the flight deck that could house a fleet of 747's, and smiled.

"Und so I have acquired a pretty flying ship. Hah! Tinkerer tailor, soldier sailor. My bullet punishes all vithout distinction. " She let the musket rest on her shoulders.

Behind her, a small crowd silently approached. All of them were covered in blood, and most of it was not their own. A few shown battle damage, a missing eye or limb, perforated chests and massive burn marks. But all had the same red shark grin. At the head of the group was Commander Tweedy, who's uniform had the least signs of the carnage they just departed from.

"Welcome aboard the UNIT Carrier Ship Valiant, Madam. The ship and it's...crew are at Millennium's disposal."

"I don't like that pauze."

"...There are possibly some survivors, we didn't have the time to check every nook and corner of the ship, over thirty decks and hundreds of storage rooms and-" Tweedy was silenced with a single handgesture from the Obersturmführer.

Rip kept her back turned to the group, and instead of accepting the Commander's apologies, she retorted with a question.

"So...how does it feel, my newly promoted Captain? How does it feel to become a Nosferatu, a creature of the night? To stage a savage mutiny, to murder your officers and crew in cold blood und commit high treason, all in one night?"

Tweedy and the others were suprised by the accusive question that resembled a blunt statement of their actions, but their hesitance was enough of an answer for Rip to not await their response.

"I see...what about condemning your shipmates to Hell? Doomed to walk ze Earth as ghoulish rotting corpses, what was that like?"

The traitor coughed, uneased with the full implications of his acts being thrown into his face, the same for his fellow mutineers who's bloodlust had lowered considerable. And unlike real animals, they had too much brain to rely on instincts and were forced to rationalize their deeds. Which was hard, very hard.

To Rip, this was enough information for her to force an decision that was largely decided before she even left the mainland.

"Well...Excellent work!" Her serious tone changed to a cheery, almost child-like, high pitch. "This is really amazing, Millennium will be happy to have go-getters like you on our team! Ve couldn't have done it without you. And of course the Major, he's so proud! You definately deserve everything that is coming to you."

The sudden change in her atittude and words once again suprised the UNIT vampires, only Tweedy managing to raise a small confused smile at the compliments.

"Vell...I guess the only thing left for you to do, you filthy limey, is die."

And without warning or indication, Rip leveled her musket at the group of traitors, cocked the hammer and fired. A blast of sparks and gunpowder smoke errupted that obscured a large part of the flightdeck almost instantly. Tweedy was faster to response than his collagues, and dodged the musket ball by leaping upwards to the roof of the nearby hangerbay behind Rip van Winkle.

"The fuckin cunt set us up, kill her!"

Instead of exacting bloody revenge, the heads and chests the mutineers one by one exploded in a fountain of gore, and even the ones far away from the musket's direct line of fire were struck. Within seconds, the twenty UNIT crewmembers who resigned their humanity to become vampires, were reduced to the one Commander Tweedy who gazed in shock at the remains of his succesful mutiny.

"I-Impossible, I heard only one shot! Can't be!"

Rip had her back turned to Tweedy, ignoring him as she with love inspected her weapon that after all this time still functioned perfectly. "I am the Huntress, Rip van Winkle. Tinkerer tailor, soldier sailor. My bullet punishes all vithout distinction!"

"Fuck you! Whatever ammunition you used, there won't be time to reload before I strangle you with your intestines!" Tweedy pounced like a predator from the roof, directly towards Rip who remain where she was, smiling.

"Silly creature."

The Commander suddenly noticed something moving through the sky with an irratic patron, the musket ball that illuminated with an strange blue radiance, and which came directly at him. His confusion took a second, the ball going through his eye, skull and spine took less time to turn him into a cloud of blood and bones that dropped to the deck. Rip decided fun was over, and got to work while awaiting her comrades to awaken.

"Obersturmführer!"

Rip was not even halfway finished with her current project, an enthuastic attempt to make the ship feel more homey, when her men had finally left the helicopter after having spent the entire flight within specially sealed coffins. They were Fallschirmjäger, the elite airborne forces of the Luftwaffe that rivaled the Waffen-SS in combat skill, but not even they could stand the sun in their new forms. A small price for the power gained.

"Ah, you are up. Gut. Now, the new flagship of ze German Reich's Aerial Fleet can finally commence operations."

The paratroopers snapped their heels together and saluted, before getting to work and take full control over the ship. The ghouls needed to be rounded up and locked away where they could not bother anyone, wandering on the decks below the bridge as only that section was required for their operation. Which only left one more thing for Rip van Winkle as after the Fallschirmjäger departed, the other passengers of the helicopter came towards her as they hovered across the deck. She depised them, a sentiment shared by everyone in the Letze Battalion.

"WHAT ARE OR-DERS."

And yet a purpose needed to be given or else they would be on everyone's nerves. And than Rip had a fantastic idea. Rip explained her project to cheer up the dreadful metallic design of the Valiant, and demanded that they continue while she did the more pressing matter of getting a nap before things got interesting. The wretched things they were forced to accept as allies did not seem enthuastic for the work however.

"DALEKS DO NOT DEC-ORATE. DO NOT DEC-ORAAATE!"

"Daleks obey orders. Und these are yours. Get to it."