Vampire Review, Manga Edition: Hellsing: Legend of the Vampire Hunter

So tomorrow is Cait's birthday once again!

As a present, I'm reviewing Hellsing!

But not just any Hellsing. Oh no. No, this time, I'm reviewing Hellsing: Legend of the Vampire Hunter.

That's right, everybody, I'm reviewing the official Hellsing hentai!

And y'know what?

It's fucking hilarious.

Our story starts with Alucard surveying some crime scene or another. I'm going to point out now that this is not the Alucard we're used to. This Alucard is a guy so bland, he sews his name to the inside of his jacket.
(By the way: you can CLEARLY see that his name is ALucard. Not ARucard. Even in his earliest, lamest incarnation, he knew how to spell his own damn name.)

There's nothing sexy or seductive about him- honestly, he's just kind of bored with the whole thing. To bide his time, he chases down missing corpses and hangs around tattoo parlors.
The missing person is a Hellsing recruit this time, some chick by the name of Yuri Kate. Real subtle there, Hirano. Reeeeeeeal subtle. Anyways, because this is Hellsing and because this is porn, the savvy reader knows that something horrible is happening to her.

My god. It's worse than I feared. They've... um... Huh.

I was gonna make a plastic surgery joke, but it's a police girl with normal-sized boobs.

This isn't gonna last.

Now, normally, Police Girls do not back themselves up against a wall, choke themselves with one of their own hands, and shout Kyaaa! Normally, somebody must do this for them, which means that it's time to meet our other characters. Introducing Nameless and Helman!

Why anybody would name a porno villain after mayonnaise is beyond me.
Anyways, it's clear that Mayoman is a Jan Valentine prototype. The only things changed are the costume and the facial piercings, and even then the costume is pretty damn similar and he still has his earrings. Unfortunately for me, this means that Nameless is supposed to be a Luke prototype. While one of them is way hotter than the other (seriously, this guy looks like Herr Major and Sir Islands had a baby), they both have that same cocky attitude and sense of superiority. What happens next is a few pages of honestly substandard sex. There's no tentacles and really nothing interesting about it... except for the faces. My god, the faces.

Words. Cannot. Describe. Seriously, this doesn't look a thing like a human face. This is like, Perry the Dog Boy. Noses do not work that way!

Here's Nameless giving pretty much the same advice that the American mainstream gives women every goddamn day!



Did you really expect Jan Valentine's O-face to look any different?
There's this great scene afterwards of closed-mouth fellatio, where her mouth is literally completely closed but she's somehow still sucking, but I'm not posting that because I don't wanna post dick, there's no way to effectively censor it without covering up the hilarity, and her face is covered in MASSIVE amounts of joy juice that looks like mayonn

OH WAIT.
THAT'S WHY HIS NAME IS HELMAN.


There's this amazing Hellsing AMV set to "Jizz In My Pants" by The Lonely Island. Here's the link. Why do I mention this? Because I'm pretty sure that this is what is happening right now in this picture.
It's all fun and games until somebody gets shot with a twig.

No, really. The Jackal and Joshua have been replaced in this little one-shot by a shotgun that shoots wooden bullets. Alucard has finally arrived, and he's got something even goofier than the ghost piñata.

What I love the most is that the wooden bullets have shells. Are those made of wood, too? Anyways, Helman/Jan is down for the count, so Nameless takes a swing at Alu. That's not figurative. He literally tries to punch out Alucard.

This is why there's no way in hell he's Luke Valentine. Luke's ego is enormous, but he's not stupid. He went into that fight armed and trained. This stupid fucker tries to punch out Alucard. My god, he takes worse from his girlfriend on a daily basis. This guy's a moron and Alu knows it.
That's not a look of rage or hate or even minor irritation. That right there is pity. He pities the foo.
"Seriously. Did you ever fucking read Dracula? Come on. Everybody's read Dracula. You could at least, y'know, Tivo True Blood or some shit like that before you make the commitment to become a vampire. My god you suck."

But Nameless isn't going to die easily. Nope. He's gotta ask the question that everybody asks Alucard. (No, not the one about Carmen Sandiego.)

Normally, Alu makes a cryptic reference to Teggy's massive hotness I MEAN his enslavement by the Hellsing family. But here? Here he's got a totally different reason.


You heard it from Alucard himself. Basically, peace is number one. A total misunderstanding of the way vampirism works is number two.


After that little mess, it's time to attend to the rape victim.


"Oh, damn. Your blood was sucked and you're not a ghoul. Man, the boss hates it when I bring home stray vampires who are former employees. Oh? Oh, no, no, it's not uncommon at all. Nope. It was on uh, page three of the hiring contract. Right after the bit about fair use of the break room."

" Basically, your insurance disappears but you get a pretty good spike in your salary and free dental care. It's, uh, not a bad deal at all. You'll just... here, lemme find 'em."

Man. You really do get the feeling from this guy that he's not Hellsing's top hunter. He's more like a standard employee, just doing the bare minimum and being preoccupied with paperwork.

"So these are the interdepartmental transfer papers. They've already been signed off on, y'know, approved. Like I said, this happens a lot. Now..."

"Just get it in before the close of the business week, otherwise the boss gets pretty irritated and you end up with another week on your old paycheck. It's really not terrible. Like I said, it's a nice raise. And it's not that bad- don't worry... "
"Why not? Tastes just like tomato soup!"

And that's the end.

Sanity Check: Actually not that bad. Yeah, the sex scene was pretty ridiculous, but it wasn't anything terribly wild. Wasn't like a priest orgy or Hitler x Catgirl or anything like that.
Canonicity: At first glance, it's impossible, because there's no way that the character the series is named after can exist. Read Alucard's dialogue up there. Does that sound like a man who lives in the same universe as Integra Hellsing? I think not. We also have the tricky little problem of Helman and Nameless. Although I guess they could be relatives... Actually, hold up. There's no timestamp on this, and there's no technology or anything to give us an earliest possible date. The pierced ears on the guys are a pretty good indicator that it happens in the late sixties or later... This could be a feasible part of canon if it's set during Arthur's reign. Nameless and Helman are Luke and Jan's uncles or something- apparently, dumbassery runs in their family. It would also explain why there's a young, nubile, not-tough-as-nails human woman running around with Hellsing... and, if Star Trek is to be believed, why she's in a miniskirt.

So yeah. Let's count this as part of the Canon!Verse as proof that life under Arthur was boring.
Favorite Panel: Two of 'em. The first is this one, where Helman actually demonstrates a little bit of vampire lore:
Of all the panels in the stuff I've reviewed, this one and the one in Dok's Story are really the most reminiscent of Hellsing. Here's a screenie from the OVA to show you what I mean.


And then there's this. The whole story is set in an alleyway. Now, in an alleyway, you have graffiti. Here in the states, it's usually obscenities or phalli. Not true in England!


In England, you have gangsta water bottles.

Disney Princessification

I have nothing to say. Other than I've done the same thing for Young Integra and Alu-hound. Just not in PS yet.
Doing this to the other ladies would be considered high treason in Canon!verse, wouldn't it be?

Let's Play Castlevania! (Part I)

And now for something different! I'm gonna talk about Castlevania games!


First and foremost, I got SOTN to work! I'm gonna blow your minds and just tell you now: You send Dracula to hamburger time at the beginning of the damn game. That whole "What is a man?" scene? That's the first scene.

And then the game actually starts, and you're playing as Alucard.



No, not that one, sadly. This one.

His son. In Canon!verse, this is the one we call Failcard. But we've never really gotten to know him- we just make assumptions based on his alignment and cameos in other games. Shall we get to know the real Failcard?

Oh hell yes. Now, Failcard starts out fully dressed. Let's see some of the stuff he's wearing, hmm?

Item Description: Twilight Cloak
A black cloak for vampires

Item Description: Alucard Sword
Mother’s family heirloom

Ahh. THAT's why Failcard’s on the run. He’s stolen his mother’s sword.

According to the game, this is his mother:
As I've said before, she looks awfully familiar. But you only see her in flashback. Here, though, is what you do see!

The first real enemy you meet in the game is what Aria calls a Warg. It’s a giant wolf. Kinda pretty. It’s really cool to see that Aria uses the same design, because it’s a well-designed enemy. It's pretty!



The second enemy you fight... is also a wolf. After you’ve gone inside. There’s like, five or six wolves in the first hallway. Weird.

It kinda irritates me that you start the game wearing all your Mary Sue clothes. Srsly. You have the best sword, shield, amulet, cloak, armor, shoes, everything!

And then there’s a boss fight
And it’s fucking DEATH.
FIRST BOSS IN THE GAME
IS FUCKING DEATH.
AUGHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Only... it’s not a fight. Much like in Portrait of Ruin, Death shows up just to be a prick. He calls Alucard a pussy and then steals his shit. And... wow. He actually changes color! As if all his good shit was no longer on him! Could equipping of items to the character ACTUALLY show up in gameplay? Oh I hope so!

Woah. What the fuck is this? The save room is NOT a glowing statue of the virgin Mary or a fountain... it’s a pulsing red-and-yellow D20. Since I don’t have a PS1 memory stick, I’m just gonna heal up here.... hoooooooly crap. Trippy. It explodes, breaks apart, and forms a coffin around you.



Oh hey, the relics- things in the game that are useful- show up as cubes here! Just like in PoR. Hmm, what’s this relic?

Cube of Zoe?

Who... who’s Zoe?

Spittle bone enemies actually spit saliva at you. In the later games, they spit fire. I think having them spit spittle makes more sense.



Ee! I just equipped a new cape and woaho, Whinycard’s wearing a cape! CLEARLY when we gave him an infatuation with dressing up, we were correct!

Uhoh. Door sealed. Music stopped. T... time for a boss fight.


Oh! It’s Slogra and Gaibon... and they fight together... and... um... where is that spear going?

Yeah, I can see where all that horrifying Rule 34 stuff comes from.

And I died, and since I don’t have a PS1 memory stick, game over! Time to play something new!

Castlevania: Curse of Darkness.

This release for PS2 met with a hell of a lot of panning- apparently, if it's not a Metroidvania style game, it sucks. But I wanted to try it for myself!

Here’s all I got from the opening narration:

- Our hero’s name is Trevor
Something about a plague?
As I said, the two PS2 CV games took a lot of flack for being shit. We’re about to discover the truth of that.

It starts with a person who I am thinking is Trevor running towards a castle, yelling for Isaac.

Isaac... ISAAC? Isaac as in the bastard love child of Rip Van Winkle and Charles Foster Offdensen?

What, you know I'm right.


But, alas, it is not the right Isaac. Instead, it’s a pretty, red-haired, kinda crazy, femmy vampire with a sarcastic, almost British-sounding affected voice who’s hitting on and threatening simultaneously this Hector.

He also has a... thing... for chains. And whips. And he doesn't seem to own a shirt. But anyways, who the hell is Hector? As it turns out, Hector, not Trevor is our hero. I’m already NOT caring about Hector or Trevor or any of ‘em. I’m caring about this Isaac character. He’s got a hawt voice... though, come to think of it Hector does, too. Actually, Hector sounds really familiar. Why does he sound so familiar? The cutscene ends, and then the game begins.

Already I can see where peoples’ control issues came from. The controls are SUPER-sensitive, which might get irritating. Hmm. Why do those grunts and shouts sound so familiar? Do you recognize this voice?

(It starts at 1:36ish)

That guy with the white hair is Hector. Aside from a cool voice, he's also got a chair fetish. No, really. Part of the game is finding all the different types of chairs to sit in. Odd.

Anyways, onto gameplay. The first enemy pops out of nowhere, which is kinda cool. I do like the 3d fighting system; if you get behind the enemy, he goes all transparent so you can see where you are. It’s a pretty quick fight, not too tough... and then the enemy drops a hamburger.
What the hell. It’s 1500 and the enemy drops a hamburger. “A meat patty squashed inside a bun to make it easier to eat. This one has a lot of tasty pickles.” It only gets stranger when you enter the first save room. You sit down in this big throne with wings on it. It’s pretty, but it’s also inhumanly strange. What I really like about it is that whenever you’re near a save room, a little indicator appears under your feet. You always know when you’re near one.

The wolf enemies in this game are neither giant nor threatening. They’re actually kind of adorable. They’re cute little wolf things named Fenrir.

Apparently, tombstones in this world look like coffee tables with floating pixies on ‘em. Hector then picks up evil demon summoning powers. Why? We don’t know. No apparent reason.

Ad then you get applauded by some bald Aussie-Britthing. His name’s Zead. He congratulates you and spews some bullshit about Isaac or somebody... I have a feeling he’ll be important later. Apparently, what you just did is called Devil Forging. It made something called “Innocent Devil Infant Fairy” appear. You then must name the Innocent Devil. The game suggests Raji. I go with Bill. Basically, Innocent Devils are untainted familiars created by devil forgemasters. This game clearly has no idea what devil actually means. Anyways, they’re your subweapons in this game. It took me a good ten minutes to figure that out- the game doesn’t explain it well at all.

Fairy-type innocent devils can open up treasure chests, restore HP, or heal status ailments. THey also look like Tinkerbell, if Tinkerbell was a naked Fallout Boy fan. Seriously, was there any need to put that much eyeliner on a fairy?

This game really likes its fairies. From the weird-ass fairy chairs in the save rooms to the fairy devils that follow you around (and sparkle!), this game loves the fae.

Hit this link to see what I mean about almost all of that stuff.

And goddamn! WHERE have I heard that voice?

So that my map would be complete, I decided to run outside of the castle for a while. I saw two things floating in the distance. Thinking they were enemies, I ran closer. Much to my surprise, one was a floating miniature Easter Island moai, and the other was a potion. So far, this game has turned up fairies, moai, and hamburgers. And then my eyes started hurting from video games, so I had to stop. But I was still curious. Where had I heard that voice before? That summoning... that shouting...

...
...
... Wait. Go back to when he said "I see" and that bit about serving.

Now listen to this.

Well. Damn.

I think I'm gonna like this game.

And, just so you didn't slog through all this for nothing, here's concept art for the game's infamous succubus enemy.


(I imagine under the cutoff, she's wearing sequined bats.)

E-mail 5

To: greatqueenerat@france.fr
From: fangsnfeathers@england.co.uk
Subject: Little Glass Vials

FUCK! You've got the Graverobber in your employ? HOW? We've been after him for months, hoping to secure his allegiance, but he's a slipperier fish than our friend in the opera, and you know how she is! That's good news though. Very good news. (You shall be thanked. I'm thinking with fancy sidearms? Sidewinder missiles? Some of that heritage Darjeeling?) If you have him and can keep him away from Amber Sweet, perhaps she can be deposed as the brazen addict she is. GeneCo might be an amoral pack of jackals, but should her activities be exposed... especially if she's technically embezzling from the company... well, I've seen what happens to those who cross GeneCo. Nathan Wallace was a good friend of Dr. Trevelyan- you remember him, no? My personal surgeon? I've never seen such vicious corporate behavior. And I headed the Hellsing Organization, of all things. And then we can put somebody else in charge... Perhaps somebody from the Millennium sector? Imagine what Jan Valentine would do with an unlimited supply of transplant organs. I do know that I want to remove Luigi from GeneCo entirely. I fear I must request that you let me have him; his proclivities wouldn't fall in well with the Sisterhood's activities, and I think I could forge that raging temper of his into a well-honed blade. Hellsing is still an actual business, after all, and I think Luigi would make a fine manager. And even if he doesn't, I feel it necessary to sever as many of his familial bonds as possible. You'd be amazed at what humans can accomplish, provided they feel sufficiently betrayed...

Of course, we can not risk this operation by moving swiftly. The hoi polloi still, for some reason, idolizes Amber Sweet. I'd wanted to move Ripje into the position recently... vacated... by Blind Mag, but she wanted no part. I think she feels the same way you do about anything Italian. I think that turning the Graverobber might be useful, but I don't think I can bring myself to do it. He looks too much like my cousin- you remember Luke, right? for my tastes. With Amber out of the way, Pavi should be easy enough to handle. He has much in common with that German doctor who was involved with Millennium for a while, aside from the obvious comparison to René and his libido. I think that, if relocated properly, we can ignore him.

And while I would hope for your sake that the doctors at the Asylum don't follow my lead, there is nothing wrong with mixing business and pleasure! Remember what Hellsing's primary asset once was? I am most certainly not talking about the police girl. (As Eglantine would say it, "Rawwwwr. I mean, dayumn." How do you even pronounce that last word?)

I, too, look forward to tea.

Cordially,

Countess Sir Integra Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing

E-mail 4

To: fangsnfeathers@england.co.uk
From: greatqueenerat@france.fr
Subject: Irksome Italians

Dear Countess Hellsing,

The things one hears in an Asylum, or so the saying goes; to writ: I have but a few hours ago been presented with a rather extremely illuminating Sisterhood report on this Largo situation (or I do suppose, this Sweet situation, should we wish to acknowledge that… person’s petty indulgences), and to be still more particular, on Zydrate production in the disreputable enclave that pernicious family has carved out for itself; a report from which I have learned the following: illegal Zydrate production, on which we had pinned so many worries, is no more, or rather, is a rapidly expanding market, but under Largo auspices: a market domestic, within that city-on-a-graveyard, and foreign, and thus, the market driving the growing Zydrate problem within our own nations: a grave charge, to be sure, but one made with confidence by Sisterhood agents in whom I, in turn, have complete confidence, a conclusion, indeed, substantiated by the testimony of a prominent street-vender of Zydrate and client of Largo policies, whom my agents brought under Sisterhood pay (it should here be noted that this man’s affect on my agents, several of whom had previously shown no favor toward males, bears note, and, given this individual’s connections with the Largos, may portend some aphrodisiac device appearing in GeneCo’s arsenal in the coming months, which, if I may venture into stating the obvious, may provide those people with leverage over our mutual friend (to… um… assign a neutral enough word) René, with obvious and odious political implications), and indeed, this grave robbing Zydrate vending ruffian has claimed to be so prominent as to supply our mutual… aquantance, Sweet, with her Zydrate, which, if true, would indeed explain how she has been able to keep her habit off the GeneCo books (which I am sure, Countess, that your intelligence service, being just as efficient as mine, has provided to you as well), and thus of no use to her brothers’ admittedly rather timid-seeming attempts to overthrow her, if this is true, in fact, we could well have precisely the leverage we require to aid Mr. Luigi Largo in assuming his rightful place as our puppet CEO, and, in fact, if this is true, I shall now be so bold as to propose that we do, in fact, embark on this endeavour, for it must be admitted by any reasonable observer that if our nations’ Zydrate problem is in fact a product of deliberate GeneCo policy, it must be seen as nothing short of a policy of war, clandestine, true, but war none-the-less, meriting our response, if only clandestinely, with acts predicated on a similar attitude of enmity, of which the overthrow of that… woman would be a perfect example; thus, Countess, I do here formally propose that our agents act together to achieve this end, and end for which we should have far more assets available then the number we shall actually need (and indeed, should it prove necessary to put a rapid and punctuated end to the situation, sending Chandra, further armed as she now is, to remedy the situation may well prove just as effective as indulging my General Staff’s rather understandable, in light of their origins in this fair land of Gaulish past, enthusiasm for tactical nuclear warheads) and, having made this proposal, must conclude, at the risk this time of mixing pleasure with business, by noting my relief at the reprieve of my clothing, and, finally, must assure you that I shall send you butter crumpets in abundance.
I do look forward to tea.

Yours manicly,
President Emilie Autumn

Ps. If my new graverobbing associate does indeed prove to be as valuable an asset as he claims to be, I should like to consult you about making him a vampire, for, though I do realize you prefer to keep such indulgences of mortals to a minimum, it would surely make our operations far easier in that rather touchy sector of the world.

E-mail 3

To: greatqueenerat@france.fr
From: fangsnfeathers@england.co.uk
Subject: Concession of Wrongness

Madame President,

Well, that certainly explains things a bit! I should have known you'd never do anything to put one of your devotees at risk. And while it is an impractical combat uniform, it does convey a sense of deranged dignity as a dress uniform. And, while I fear I would drown in the ruffles, it does suit my girl. There's nothing more adorable than something that looks like a large porcelain doll baring fangs at you.

Anyways, I do see the merits to such a design. After composing that last e-mail, I went down to the kitchen because I was, for some reason or other, exceedingly hungry. Somebody had eaten all the cheese poofs and freeze-dried Asian noodles, so I was forced to attempt to make a giant sandwich for comfort. Only we were out of sliced bread, so I had to slice some more, but then I realized that there were no knives in the kitchen. Well, you know how I am after I... indulge, so after managing to destroy seven loaves with my revolver (Side note: Did you know that bullets don't slice bread evenly?), naturally I had to go look for them.

Every single knife in our house, plus five of the Count's favorite guns, three practice foils, and a wooden ventriloquist's dummy managed to fit in the folds of that dress. I didn't even know we had a ventriloquist's dummy. I don't think we even know any ventriloquists. But I was rather impressed with her ingenuity and devotion to her new task; it seems you may have gotten more than you bargained for in enlisting my Chandra! I simply told her that if Lex Luthor was to seize her, she should use her sense of dramatic irony. At this, she pulled out a cake server and grinned. Is it any wonder she's my favorite? Geneva be damned, she's a woman after my own heart. Or rather, the heart of anybody who crosses her. If only the other two were half as interesting!

And your clothing might not suffer the indignity of my middle child. Egs has expressed interest in "crashing" here for a few days after G20K- to "hang out" with us- and you know she doesn't go anywhere without that brother of hers. While I do fear she's going native, René will keep him distracted for a few days. You might be girly, but he's flamboyant. Although I don't much care myself for anybody who encourages the child's habits, René doesn't mind sharing clothes with him. The last time the two were together, they had taken the children for a week on their new yacht, and the boy came back wearing a sailor suit with those tiny little shorts. You know the ones. His father, needless to say, was quite upset. I was as well, but for entirely different reasons. Though perhaps less as upset as I would have been normally; indeed, this dealing with the Largos is weighing heavily on my mind. Luigi is tolerable, and even perhaps useful, but I've known pigeons more capable than his useless siblings. With his sister running the show at GeneCo, there will be problems, mark my word. And if I know that little tart like I think I do, the unregulated distribution of Zydrate is only going to get worse... Perhaps if we got the makers of it on our side? I know that I can lure Luigi into supporting us, but I'd like to handle this as non-violently as possible... for now...

Would you be so kind as to tuck a box of those exquisite little butter crumpets into your parcels? I fear I'm still something of a wretched baker. I'll be having the staff prepare the Zen Room for you, I think- we're currently remodeling the guest suites. D thought it would be "funny" to ride the Thunderhorse through the halls. I believe I now understand why Dr. Furter killed that young man on the motorcycle- the damage something like that does to a hallway!

Cordially,

Countess Sir Integra Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing

E-mail 2

To: fangsnfeathers@england.co.uk
From: greatqueenerat@france.fr
Subject: Your Daughter

Dear Countess Hellsing,

Pleased as I am to receive correspondence from outside the Asylum, most notably from so dear a friend as yourself, Countess, I do nevertheless feel that I should clarify a point or two about your daughter Chandra, honorary Gothic Lolita of the First Battalion of my First Regiment; and, more particularly, about her uniform.
It is, of course, a dress uniform, for that is simply the only sort suitable for a daughter of yours, Countess, and indeed, Chandra would scarcely be assigned combat duties (they do still call on us to uphold those silly Geneva Conventions, after all, which the use of your daughter against ones enemies would be sure to violate), and in fact, though I must admit I have been loathe to tell you until now, she had quite a hand in the design of her current apparel, having declared the normal garment “quite too plain”.
I do indeed appreciate the delicate nature of the situation with your… male child… (and do please tell that… person not to stretch out my corsets so), but to be frank, Countess, I am unconcerned, for Chandra has taken quite a liking to her new uniform, and you and I both know the fate that befalls those… persons… who endeavour to meddle with those things which Lolita Chandra (if I may be so bold as to refer to her by her new honorary title) has taken a liking to.
Indeed, should Lex Luthor, or anyone, attempt to steal your daughter, I must confess amusement at the thought of the fate that would befall them.
I am unaware of the origin of the hatpin, lovely as it is, as it was provided by Chandra herself as we designed her uniform.
This GeneCo situation is indeed quite irksome, as one would expect (if you’ll pardon me my mild prejudices) when dealing with Italians; however, I do remain confident that we shall be able to resolve it quickly and with a minimum of nuclear munitions expended, and on that note, must now pause here to gratefully accept your most gracious invitation to your house (as for badminton: but of course I shall bring my set).
I do so look forward to tea.

Yours manicly,
President Emilie Autumn

Ps. Though it is no doubt a lost cause, perhaps between us we could keep all of my clothing safe this visit, and thus out of the hands of your… child?

E-mail 1

To: greatqueenerat@france.fr
From: fangsnfeathers@england.co.uk
Subject: My Daughter

Dear Madame President,

I am displeased. While I know it's a great honour that my daughter be given a rank in the Sisterhood, and while I know that the first battalion is the closest to you, and while I know you're the best violin teacher slash ungodly godmother a girl could ever have, I cannot help but be displeased.



My daughter looks like a cake. Really, Emilie, what kind of uniform is this? How do you run in this? How do you fence in this? Do you know what happens if you accidentally drop a cinder on something like this? I cannot allow her to leave the house in it for fear that Lex Luthor will steal her while nobody's looking. And that's terrible.

Furthermore, you know of our little... situation with my middle child. We have a difficult enough time trying to keep him out of the Sangreal siblings' garments and the spare clothing you keep here; how are we supposed to guard the guest quarters' closets and Chandra's at the same time? Being only a dhampir, he doesn't have the same weaknesses his father does. The boy is becoming immune to the roses we wind around the doorknobs, and once he breaks through, then where will we be?

I will say though, the insignia's not bad. Did Eglantine design that hatpin?

Looking forward to seeing you at the G20K conference and picking your brain about the GeneCo situation. The Count wants to know if you're coming to stay afterwards and if you'll bring the badminton set.

Happy Bastille Day.

Cordially,

Countess Sir Integra Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing

The Asylum Army

Priorities:

1. To act as bodyguards, protecting the person, home, instruments, studio, etc, of Miss Emilie Autumn
2. To conduct combat operations against enemies of EA
3. To defend EA fandom against all enemy action
4. To endeavour to spread the Plague further

The Army’s basic tactical unit is the squad, consisting of 5 soldiers: 4 Muffins, commanded by a Plague Rat. Most operations are conducted at this level, mostly establishing security for EA fans against rogue Dethkolk-exclusivity gangs. Groups of squads may co-ordinate for such operations. Command devolves to the squad commander whose squad has greatest seniority within the platoon, 2^nd squad having the Plague Rat with greatest seniority, and 9^th squad having the Plague Rat with the least.

Large area-control operations may be conducted at the platoon level. The platoon, consisting of 50 soldiers, is divided into 10 squads. 2^nd through 9^th squads are combat squads. 10^th squad is a medic squad. 1^st squad is the headquarters squad, serving as guards and staff to the platoon’s commander, typically a Chambermaid. 1^st squad is not a merely administrative unit, however, and may often see combat. When, rarely, multiple platoons embark on operations together, command devolves to the Chambermaid with highest seniority, that of 1^st platoon having highest, that of 9^th platoon the lowest.

Platoons are grouped into companies. There are 6 platoons in a company, plus the company commander and an at-large squad, which serves as her or his staff, for a total of 306 soldiers. The company, typically commanded by a Mad Girl, is mostly an administrative unit, overseeing operations by subsidiary platoons. However, in rare instances, entire companies may be engaged in single operations, under the direct command of their Mad Girl commander.

Companies are grouped into battalions, which consist of 5 companies, and a headquarters of 10, for a total size of 1,530 soldiers. Commanded by a Gothic Lolita, battalions are almost entirely administrative, as no battalion has itself ever been involved in combat operations. Nevertheless, the tactical abilities of Gothic Lolitas are quite honed, both by planning operations for their subsidiary companies, and in a rigorous regimen of exercises, intended to prepare the Army for a the outbreak of a major “war” against major hostile forces. The 6^th Platoon of E Company within a battalion is a medic platoon, handling all but initial first aid for most combat injuries.

5 battalions constitute a regiment, which, with a headquarters of 20, consists of a total of 7,720 soldiers. Commanded by an Opheliac, the regiment is an almost purely administrative unit, and the largest units of the current Asylum Army. Like battalion commanders, however, the Opheliac of a regiment is virtually constantly honing her or his combat skills, in preparation for a potential war. E Company of 5^th Battalion in each regiment is a hospital company, mostly handling recovering cases from within the regiment.

Though the regiment is the largest normal unit in the army, plans exist to establish divisions in wartime, heavily based on militia troops. The details of a division’s structure have not been established, though in the current literature, the rank of General is often tentatively assigned to divisional command. However, no such rank exists in the current Asylum Army.

Due to the irregular nature of the Army’s current tactical environment, logistic duties are carried out by combat troops, with the exception of administration, which is handled by regular unit headquarters. There is thus no need for a dedicated logistic service, at present, beyond the full-time services of a few members of the General Staff.

There are, at present, 4 regiments within the Asylum Army: 1^st (Opheliac), 2^nd (Enchant), 3^rd (Fight Like a Girl), and 4^th (Unlaced). In addition to a General Staff (in which the ranks of Asylum Administrator and Asylum Director may be found) of around 50, the Asylum Army thus consists of approximately 30,930 members.

Squads are numbered within platoons, and platoons within companies. Companies are known by the letters A through E within a battalion, while battalions are numbered within regiments, which are themselves numbered. Thus, a typical soldier may serve in 3^rd Squad, 5^th Platoon, B Company, 2^nd Battalion, 1^st Regiment (Opheliac). Both platoon and squad numbers are often used by themselves, but in conjunction; thus, our soldier belongs colloquially to the 53^rd squad. Company letters are often related by the NATO alphabet, and thus she belongs to Baker Company. The honorific names of regiments are rarely used colloquially, serving more as official honors.

The rank structure of the Asylum Army, with NATO-equivalent status, is below:

Muffin: E-2

Plague Rat: E-6

Chambermaid: O-2

Mad Girl: O-4

Gothic Lolita: O-6

Opheliac: O-7

Asylum Administrator: O-8

Asylum Director: O-9

Note that there is no sharp enlisted/officer distinction. A Chambermaid is simply a promoted Plague Rat, not an “officer” to the Plague Rat’s “NCO”.

The ranks’ insignia are black cheekhearts. A Muffin is denoted by one heart under the left eye, a Plague Rat by one under either eye, and the succeeding ranks to Opheliac by one more for each rank, from left to right. A Gothic Lotita thus carries three under her or his left eye, and two under her or his right, while an Opheliac has three under either eye. Asylum Administrators have one large heart under their left eye, Asylum Directors have one under each eye. Black is the only color used for any hearts, the use of red being reserved for Miss Autumn herself.

La Famille Sangreal: distillateurs et viticulteurs

Eglantine and Renée are here to shill Shiraz and absinthe at you. He's stopped dyeing his hair, but she hasn't.

Corpsefuckin'

So I'm building the definitive playlist about necrophilia. And I'm trying to keep most of the growly metal off of it. Otherwise, it'd be too easy, like an unlocked morgue. :P

Here's what I've got so far.

1. Lord Abortion, Cradle of Filth, Midian*
2. Necropedophile, Cannibal Corpse, Tomb of the Mutilated*
3. Demonoid Phenomenon, Rob Zombie, Hellbilly Deluxe*
4. Roses on White Lace, Alice Cooper, Raise Your First And Yell
5. Last Kiss Goodbye, Lordi, The Arockalypse
6. Living Dead Girl, Rob Zombie, Hellbilly Deluxe
7. I Love The Dead, Alice Cooper, Billion Dollar Babies
8. Ex Lover's Lover, Voltaire, Within This Infinite Ocean
9. Vampire's Night Out, Harley Poe, Harley Poe
10. Cold Ethyl, Alice Cooper, Welcome To My Nightmare
11. I could Always Eat Your Brain, Harley Poe and Joseph Whiteford, Harley Poe and the Dead Vampires
12. Zombie Prostitute, Voltaire, Ooky Spooky
13. Corpse Grindin' Man, Harley Poe, Harley Poe and the Dead Vampires
14. Code Blue, TSOL, Dance With Me
15. Refrigerator Heaven, Alice Cooper, Easy Action
16. Gravedigger, New York Rock Ensemble, Roll Over
17. Blue Turk, Alice Cooper, School's Out
18. Dead Girls, Voltaire, Almost Human

Ideally, I'd like the songs marked with an asterisk mixed together with the "It's zombie time!" line from Vampire Hunter D starting it off, then the "Care for a little necrophilia?" line from Brazil finishing it. I will have to see if Mixmaster Boyfriend can make this for me.

A Little Bit of Psyche

Just figured out why Cuchulainn's a redhead. I used to live in Chicago, and we'd go to the Field Museum maybe three times a week. We went back today for my birthday, and I realized a thing. For the first several years of my life, this was my formative idea of a wolf:



The Hall of Biodiversity was always one of my favorite parts of the museum, and I used to hang out here for hours, asking my parents (and later reading for myself) what each animal was. For some reason, this is the only actual wolf in the museum.

Also, this may be my favorite picture of me ever taken. From lowest organism to highest: V-Staff, Manders, Me, Nemmy.

ANKH- Dr. Al-Rajid

My brain isn't quite up to par right now, so you don't get a hellacioiusly awesome little story from me. What you DO get is a little bit of information about a character from another universe, Dr. Anubis Al-Rajid. He goes by Doctor Al-Rajid, Doctor, Al-Rajid, or Sir. He... is not fond of his first name. He thinks it's clichéd and trite. Sometimes Cuchulainn* calls him Nubs, which is how his staff can tell that they're actually serious about each other.

There has always been an Anubis Al-Rajid in charge of ANKH, far before it was ever actually ANKH. The current incarnation is the youngest descendant of the Ptolemeic line, technically making him the hereditary pharaoh. This is not surprising; it's always been that way. They say the pharaohs were descended from the gods themselves, and the Al-Rajids have prided themselves on the hard evidence of this. Some consider it a curse, some consider it a blessing, but the biological Al-Rajids are shapeshifters. They can assume the form of a canine that resembles a Nubian jackal, although typically with longer ears. While that might sound awesome, Nubian jackals are about fifteen inches tall at the shoulder. That's not even a foot and a half. While the ability to turn into a tiny dog at will has never seemed particularly useful to the Al-Rajids, it makes for a splendid party trick and an excellent way to disappear in urban settings; nobody in Cairo ever notices a jackal running about. Dr. Al-Rajid rarely takes his canine form; no opposable thumbs, y'see. And you can't do chemistry without those. Doc sure likes his chemistry. The good doctor turned thirty-five sometime in the fifties, and has not aged since. He was educated in England and Daddy's money kept him out of the war. He ended up working on a few military projects before having to take over ANKH.

Anyways, here is his picture. The human form isn't definitive; I don't think I'm happy with the eyes and nose. Or that goofy headband. From the looks of it, he hates the headband, too. At least I got his petroglyph necklace right. The jackal, however, is definitive. That is his default expression.



I've got a great size chart sketched up of him, Cuchulainn, Scara**, and Leo*** standing in a row. The top of his head comes up to Cuchulainn's chest. Scara's a little taller than he is, but she's technically still a puppy, and Leo towers over everybody.

*Cuchulainn: Former IRA insurgent, big fluffy werewolf. Works as a bonesmith. You'll meet her later; she's about as close to my heart as Eggy and René.
**Scara: Scaramouche De Osso, Leo's young niece; he's raising her as his own. He tends to use her protection as his excuse for leading the Washingtonian massacre in Canon!verse and is an amazing father in both the standalone 'verse and in Canon!verse.
***Leo: Galileo De Osso, half-Mexican college dropout. Lives in San Francisco and is the head of the werewolves of California. Is an absolutely fantastic guy until he sees you as a threat to his kid. And then he absolutely will kill you. His canine form is absolutely frigging massive. Leo will get a post of his own sometime, too, though he may end up sharing it with his kiddo.

Edit: And because I can't sleep, here's Cuchulainn. She's a heriditary lycanthrope, which is about as close to our universe's definition of werewolf as you can get. She can change parts of her body at will, and while she looks mostly human most of the time, there are some things that don't change. Like her nose- inside, she's still got the lupine olfactories. Her brain is always human; she never plays by instincts. (Plus, it allows her to keep sensory input without processing what that input means. A human brain could process what a wolf's nose can smell... Let's just say that would not be any kind of pleasant.) It's too hard to change back. Her ears, though, stay canine. It's too hard to change between the two, given the way canine ears are set up. The canine ears are just that much sharper, and she doesn't need to be inconspicuous these days. She's not wearing clothes because I didn't feel like drawing them. The collar's on there for legal reasons, but that's not her tag. Those are initials on there, but she ain't sayin' whose.

Huh. She looks a little like somebody I knew in high school. Can't say she acts like that person, though. Cuchulainn's got a past, and she really doesn't want to talk about it. (Hint: Many, many people consider her a terrorist.) And she's not afraid to murder the livin' hell out of you. Also, curiously enough Cuchulainn's one of my few theist characters who generally has a positive attitude towards the idea of a god. (Dr. Al-Rajid is by default, Eglantine and René sorta are, given the whole 'oh hey we're voodoo monsters shit that's a religion isn't it' thing, and... yeah, that's it. None of the other 'Frisco vampires do, the Chicago Syndicate would be utterly fucked if they believed in religion, and the other vampires I've come up with are sheer fucking monsters. The humans too, for the most part, with the exception of a lot of Cuchulainn's past associates. Red was pretty religious. Anyways, I'm rambling.) I guess her basic rationale is A) She can't drive herself to believe that humanity could be as horrible as it is to itself if there was no God and B) Her favorite being is the avatar of an Egyptian god of death. That's gotta count for something, right?

Welcome to Paris

Captain Simone Zaytseva of the (Tarrinist) Human Alliance Army Department of Internal Instigations arrives in Paris, 13 September, 2457.

(Above: Colonel Zaytseva, Galactic Federation Bureau of Internal Investigations, 14 July, 2495. "Our task is to protect the weak, through the fear of the strong.")




In Paris, sentries were either really battle lines, or fig leafs. The Tarrinist base, occupying the rubble of a museum built in turn on the rubble of a pre-Spasm War predecessor, was located near the front lines in Buttes-Chaumont, and its ‘sentries’ on the south and west were indeed a battle line, division stacked upon division in the makeshift trenches and rubble piles that millions of humans had called home- and in which they had died- for the past eighteen months. To the north of the base, however, there was theoretically nothing but Tarrinist territory. Guarding the impromptu rail stop that served as the base’s only connection to the world outside the war zone, therefore, was merely a fig leaf: two guards, broken by the battle but a kilometer to the south of them, and close enough to the end of their three-month tours in the city that some officer had taken pity on them by assigning them to the post. Daily Wangist artillery barrages were the reason only two men stayed at the stop, of course, but even the threat of 155s was less then that of thousands of men on either side, in less the a quarter of that number of meters of front, attacking, counterattacking, raiding, counterraiding, sniping back-and-forth, waiting to die from a bullet or a shell or, like countless millions back home, from simple malnourishment. The sentries at the rail stop helped unload supply trains, working quickly as Wangist guns inevitably boomed. When those trains came, they were among the first to eat.

This was not a supply train, however. The troop train started disgorging troops while still moving, troops who leapt from their car and ran for the inviting bunker doors nearby, as the sergeants in their cars had bellowed to do. The sentries watched the proceedings, in case some officer looked at them, but from the safety of the foxhole they’d scratched out as far away from the tracks as possible. The train continued to slow, as it moved along the 180-degree turn in the tracks, but the flow of uniformed figures was beginning to slack; the train would not need to stop. The final car unloaded last, and the train was already beginning to labor to get back up to speed when a lone figure appeared in its doorway, and stepped out on to the pock-marked ground. The Wangist artillery was already beginning to howl. The sentries peered curiously at the figure, knowing they would not need to duck for a few more seconds, as their base’s point defenses destroyed the first solitary shells. She- it was indeed a woman, and an officer, they could see now- moved briskly for the bunker door, but seemed somehow not to run. How typical of an officer, one of the sentries wanted to remark, until he saw the insignia on her jacket. He froze, and looked at his companion. She returned the glance, wide-eyed. They ducked as the first shells, survivors of their gauntlet of lasers, fell, but amid the terror of the artillery they felt a new chill. An agent of Internal Investigations had come to the base.

She was new to Paris. That much was obvious. Her uniform was, if not pristine, at least unfrayed. She was not emaciated; her food rationed, yes, but reliable. Her eyes, however, were the real tell. They were clearly not the eyes of a battlefield veteran, for they were not the eyes of anyone else in view. There was an odd hardness to them, however, a hardness that was unnerving to even a combat veteran, because it was alien, unfamiliar, unknowable. Her service pistol was oiled, but not well used; on her left hip, however, was a non-regulation revolver, its handle protruding forward, cross-draw fashion. It had the distinct air of being extremely well used.

So Colonel Pierre Anes discerned in a glance; for in Paris, quick judgments could make the difference between life and death. He did not know what to make of the Internal Investigations emblem on her jacket, however, and steeled himself as she approached him.

She stopped in front of him and saluted. “I am Captain Simone Zaytseva of Army Internal Investigations, Mon Colonel. Here are my credentials.” She handed him a ubiquitous, cheaply manufactured Alliance Authority datasheet, rough and ugly by pre-War standards, but serviceable. “I am here in pursuit of certain murders, rapists, and looters among your men. I trust you shall aid me in my investigations?”

A Russian, Anes thought upon hearing her surname, and began to answer in English before realizing with a start that she had addressed him in perfect French. “Of course, Captain…” He switched to French. “I will provide you any support you require. These…” He glanced at the datasheet. “…appear to be in order. This sector is almost completely militarized, however, and I have received no complaints from the few civilians who are still here. Where did these crimes occur, and which of my men do you suspect?”

“Your unit campaigned through southern Normandy, no, Mon Colonel? Those few crimes actually reported from your sector there number in the dozens. And as for suspects… I must assert my prerogative to keep my suspicions to myself until I am prepared to apprehend the guilty.”

“Of course, Captain. I understand.” Anes briefly considered asking her if he was a suspect, but quickly decided against it. He was guilty of nothing, and he had ignored nothing that had been brought to his attention. And even if he had not been over-eager to find such things out, surely they would not shoot him for that? He had a regiment to run, and if he had dug too deeply, how much of that regiment would he have left after the firing squads were done? He had gotten results; isn’t that all that mattered?

Anxious to change the subject, he asked quizzically, “We fought through Normandy months ago. Why are you only here now?”

The II woman looked grim. “It is an unfortunate exigency of this war, Mon Colonel, but with all these troops fighting, and all this misery among the civilian population, it takes time to detect, unravel, and punish such crimes. But, to borrow a phrase from our English friends over the Channel and across the trenches, ‘better late then never,’” she said, switching to English for the quotation. “Or perhaps,” she continued, returning to French, “from the Germans: ‘the mills of the gods grind slowly, but they grind exceedingly small.’ To say that justice is our god is perhaps a bit melodramatic, but does it not contain a grain of truth? Are we not fighting for justice?”

“Of… of course, Captain,” he stuttered. Colonel Anes hastily arranged for a corporal to show Zaytseva to her cot. He walked slowly to his makeshift ‘quarters’; a cot, a small dilapidated desk, and a frayed, dirty surrounding curtain. He felt a chill as he walked. The stories he’d heard sounded true. This II woman was a politically committed Tarrinist. He briefly dared to wonder if she had ever hunted for crimes of a political nature, before suppressing the thought with a shudder. It was one of those things, he realized, that he desperately did not want to know.

Happy Valentine's Day

Luke Valentine's Day, of course.


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The More You Know!

Certain purveyor of rank slander would maintain that the Hellsing anime is inferior to the OVAs, on the grounds that the final antagonists of the latter are Nazis, and that of the former is... er... an African who enjoys being whipped...... AHEM.
DO NOT BE FOOLED. NEW FACTS HAVE COME TO LIGHT.
To writ:
The Hellsing anime is really an animated version of the Book of Revelations!
It's true. This established scientific fact stunned the world yesterday when it was revealed, leading Satanists everywhere to search for Carmen Sandiago costumes, and Vatican officials, who began examining the anime for theological insights shortly after the story broke, to declare in a somewhat garbled public statement that it "would be totally awesome to make Iscariot happen" and that "go Alex! go Alex! fuck yeah, go Alex!" Vatican spokespersons could not be reached for follow-up questions.
Without further ado, then, we present to you the true identities of characters known to us for almost two thousand years only as shroom-garbled drug trip monsters, and now revealed by the power of SCIENCE.

Incognito (above, left), the true identity of the Revelations shroom-trip monster "Jesus" (above, right)

The revelation that popular black activist Incognito is in fact "Jesus", antagonist of the Book of Revelations, has provoked a public outcry among many. "I used to tell my children.. well, that is, the slow, blond one in the dress over there at least, that there was no Jesus outside his window trying to get him, because Jesus was a made-up character", said one mother, "Now how am I supposed to tell him that he should be worried if there's a large black man outside his window?" Revelations was published in bestselling horror story, cheese aficionado's manifesto, and snuff porn collection Bible, introducing the character of "Jesus" to millions. Experts worry that stories like the above could be repeated across the nation, turning seemingly innocent fandom of Bible into something sinister for millions of frightened children.
Experts are expressing bafflement that they did not see the similarities between Mr. Incognito and "Jesus" before now. While some have defended themselves, noting that being an undead masochist, just like a character, does not prove that said character is based on one, but some pundits are calling for an investigation.
Mr. Incognito could not be reached for an interview.
"Say, you want some drugs? It's reeeaalllyyyy good stuff," the mother we interviewed concluded hysterically. Really good stuff indeed, ma'am... really good stuff indeed.

Sir Integra Hellsing (above, left), the true identity of "Antichrist" (above, right), Revelations' protagonist

The same experts who are admitting that they should have realized the Incognito-"Jesus" connection are positively kicking themselves tonight as they come to terms with failing to realize that the character "Antichrist", the hero of Revelations, is in fact a caricatured portrait of Sir Integra Wingates Fairbrooks Hellsing, Esq, noted LSD taster and aficionado of crack cocaine. Sir Hellsing seems to be modestly avoiding the sudden adulteration of millions of fans of her character, and when this reporter tried to get an interview, her office claimed that she'd already given one. How like the Antichrist we loved hearing about in our childhoods, modest to a fault, yet unwilling to be so rude as to outright deny an interview.
Some literary scholars have advanced an alternate theory, noting that being identified with a character one called "saccharinely two-dimensional, seeming to only exist to oppose the evil schemes of "Jesus"" must be very embarrassing for Sir Hellsing. One French gentleman familiar with the matter poo-pooed the idea, however, stating that "Sir Hellsing smokes too much weed to be embarrassed about anything but the walls melting." As this gentlemen proceeded to launch into a triade about being absorbed by mother ocean, and in general seemed a very silly person, we left him without taking further note of what he had to say.

Alucard Hellsing (above, left), the true identity of "Beast" (above, right), right-hand man of "Antichrist"

It was only by chance that this reporter was able to interview reclusive Alucard Hellsing, Bitch of Sir Integra Hellsing, who was last seen by the public in last century's traditional seaside You-Mine-Now-Bitch ceremony with Sir Hellsing. As it happened, this reporter happened upon Mr. Hellsing, bound with ribbon in a sunny field, as he left the interview with the distraught mother related above. "Mmmm-mmmm-mm-MMMM-mm!" said Mr. Hellsing through a garlic ball gag. "MmMM-MM-mmmmm-mmmmm," he continued, "mm... mm-mmmm-MmmmMM." When asked about the tens-of-millions-strong society of groupies, who, in the wake of recent revelations, are now demanding ' the number of the Beast', this reporter could almost swear he could make out Mr. Hellsing moaning "don't tell her she'll kill me", but must admit he was really too busy smelling the five ton crate of roses that had just arrived to be paying much attention.
"Mmm m, mmmmm... MMMMM," Mr. Hellsing concluded at the end of our interview. Mmm m mmmmm indeed.

Dr. Police Girl, aka Seras Victoria (above, left), the true identity of "Beast of the Sea" (above, right)

Herr Doktor Police Girl, a noted hor almost as commonly known under the stage name Seras Victoria, has been hailed today by immigrant-rights groups for her inspiration of the character "Beast of the Sea". "Beast of the Sea" was a groundbreaking character when Revelations was first published, as an unprecidented positive portrayal of an immigrant character. Despite the stereotypes common in the fiction of the time, "Beast of the Sea" was portrayed heroically fighting against antagonist "Jesus", and charging fair rates for her special services. She made the somewhat muffled statement "la rar" over the phone, but as the very silly French person we were trying to avoid seemed to be following us as we walked to her house to try to procure a longer interview, we were forced to duck into a nearly owl house. Fortunately, the French person continued on the way we had been going, and we subsequently escaped the owls with only three dead and sixty-seven severely wounded.

Sir Arthur Hellsing (above, left), the true identity of "Hor of Babylon" (above, left)

That Sir Arthur Hellsing, father of Sir Integra Hellsing, was the inspiration of beloved children's character "Hor of Babylon" comes as no surprise to many. Indeed, he has been blacklisted by the Guild of Hors for his freelancing ways, and has reportedly survived two attacks by crack hor hit squads in the past year alone. "Oh yes, Dad's a hor... small 'h', mind... that he is..." declared the distraught mother we'd interviewed previously over video link, before viciously stabbing a whimpering crate of roses with a holy water-dipped silver sword. Why we reached her, instead of Sir Integra Hellsing, remains a mystery.
"Hor of Babylon", parent of "Antichrist", the protagonist, is a cult character among sci-fi fans, who delight in writing fan fiction explaining how the Hor left our Last, Best Hope for Peace to appear in Revelations. No official explanation has been published, as contracted attempts at prequels by Messrs. Mohammad and Smith have both fallen through, although both authors are known to have written unofficial fan fiction.
Sir Arthur Hellsing could not be reached, as he has gone on vacation with a minimalist staff of fifteen leggy blondes. None of this staff were able to answer the telephone when we called.

Walter Dornez (above, left), the true identity of "Lucifer" (above, right)

Walter Dornez, part-time Angel of Death, hobbyist butler, and noted connoisseur of apples, was revealed to be the person behind the character "Lucifer". Lucifer is the mentor of protagonist "Antichrist", and in the story is himself a former freedom fighter against the dictatorship of "Jesus", the story's antagonist. Mr. Dornez consented to an interview, but would not stop talking about a nightmare he'd recently had that involved Nazis (for those of you who don't remember the '60s, these were candies that were sadly banned for containing dangerous concentrations of Yellow #5, and amounts of crack cocaine that some inconclusive studies suggested were a potential health risk). As he was relating the part of the dream where he becomes a pile of bones forced to be a butler for eternity, we quietly slipped out of the room.

Stand-up Theologian Cheddar (above, left), the true identity of "Michael" (above, right)

That the world-famous stand-up theologian known to the public only as "Cheddar" is the true identity of such a serious character as Revelations' "Michael" is being taken by many as a occasion for dismay. "Cheddar came up with all the best gags," said one distraught fan, "the trinity, the transubstantiation skit, that running gag of sticking omni- in front of everything; it was all great. He can't go serious, there's too much great material left in him!"
Michael's status as a 'serious' character is enhanced by his dark nature: a Quisling general in the "Jesus" dictatorship, Michael is the nemesis of former rebel leader "Lucifer" in the story. Who can honestly say that reading about their climatic battle, and Lucifer's final words "if you strike me down, I shall become more powerful then you can possibly imagine", during their childhood did not inspire tears? This reporter, for one, cannot.

Enrico Maxwell (above, left), the true identity of "Woman Clothed in the Sun" (above, right)

The revelation that noted gay porn star Enrico Maxwell is the inspiration behind the Revelations character "Woman Clothed in the Sun" comes as a surprise, least of all, to him. "I'm always the one in the dress for transvestite films with Alex," he said "although I've never worn superheated thermonuclear plasma before."
"Yet," he added, with a mischievous smile and wink.

Alexander Anderson (above, left), the true identity of "War" (above, right)

Mr. Maxwell's oftentime co-star and husband Alexander Anderson expressed surprise today at the violent identity with which he has been identified. "Actually, Maxie's the one who's always playin' with the knives," he said. "If ye know what I mean."
"War" is one of the four evil "Ponies" serving "Jesus" in Revelation, and in the story carves out a wide path of destruction before being stopped by "Antichrist".

Luke Valentine (above, left), the true identity of "Pestilence" (above, right)

Luke Valentine, co-proprietor of the extremely upscale restaurant Demonic Vampiric Bitches, was quick to note that his identification with "Pestilence", one of the four evil "Ponies" serving "Jesus" in Revelations, does not reflect his personality in real life. "I in no way endorse Jesus, or anything he stands for," Mr. Valentine declared, adding that he "can assure the House of Lords that DVB is fully up to government health standards". Only members of Lords and foreign nobility of comparable rank are allowed into DVB, which enjoys a brisk business from its restricted clientele.
Unfortunately, our interview, which we were conducting at a less discriminating nearby diner, was interrupted by the arrival of our food. Mr. Valentine expressed shock when blue fruit loops were placed in front of him, noting that he is deathly allergic to that dish. Running out of the door, he then unfortunately noticed a tiny nearby English Toy Spaniel puppy. Mr. Valentine thereupon gave a earsplitting and frankly quite girlish shriek, and ran from the animal with a speed that this reporter could only believe having seen it himself.
Our Hilarious Deaths division later reported that Mr. Valentine had in fact been eated by the three pound doggy. Our laughter goes out to his family.

Jan Valentine (above, left), the true identity of "Famine" (above, right)

Co-proprietor with his brother, the late Mr. Luke Valentine, of the exclusive restaurant Demonic Vampiric Bitches, Mr. Jan Valentine finds his identification with "Famine" amusing. "Famine" is one of the four evil "Ponies" serving antagonist "Jesus" in Revelations, and in the story inspires "wailing and gnashing of teeth" in the freedom fighters' camp when he makes off with their stash of booze, bacon, and weed. "Yeah, I remember the story. Famine stole all forty tons of each. That's as many as four tens. And that's terrible. But don't worry," Mr. Valentine declared with a smile "at DVB, we're in no danger of running out of any of those."
"Of course," continued Mr. Valentine, as the jolly, kindly soul's face fell, "the character Famine also reminds me of my children, and the famine we're trying to rescue them from." Mr. Valentine is a noted philanthropist, funding and working in orphanages in famine-stricken regions of Africa.
Sadly, shortly after our interview, Mr. Valentine ran into a burning orphanage to try to save the children, and was consumed by the flames. Our condolences would go out to his family... if that family hadn't been eated by a doggy already. Also, our condolences go out to the families of the orphans killed in the fireOH WAIT.
It is unknown who will run DVB now that Messrs. Valentine are no longer with us.

Countess Bubbancy Karnstein (above, left), the true identity of "Death" (above, right)

"When I first heard that I was Death," relates Countess Karnstein, "I wasn't sure what to think. My religion doesn't really approve that whole death scene." The Countess is a practicing Boabhan Sith. However, she continued, she has since grown more accustomed to the idea. "I mean, really. I was raised to be tolerant, and I believe that at its heart, my religion preaches tolerance of everyone... even mortals."
"Still," she continued, "I'm not really comfortable with... mortals... hearing the 'Death' thing and looking at me... that way."
"Death" is one of the four evil "Ponies" serving "Jesus", the antagonist of Revelations.
Countess Karnstein has subsequently further shown her commitment to tolerance by agreeing to run the restaurant Demonic Vampiric Bitches, the proprietors of which, Messers Valentine, have themselves recently died. "The Valentines are nice people," the Countess declared in a follow-up interview. "I don't care if they happen to be dead."
"Besides," she confided, "DVB can't just go under. Do you know how good their... ah, well... um... you wouldn't, but seriously. See about getting a knighthood or something. Doesn't even have to be hereditary. It's worth it."

Helena (above, left), the true identity of "John" (above, right)

The true identity of "John", the shroom-tripping narrator of Revelations, has come as a surprise to some. Known only as Helena, she is well known as the proprietor of the greatest of the Nouveau London salons. While not generally known as a shroom-tripper, however, she shares the trait of bibliophilia with he character, "John", the only trait of '-philia' she can legally have outside the State of Utah.
"John is a nuanced character," notes salon frequenter Prof. Aegypticus, "certainly the most nuanced in Revelations. He starts out as a Jesus cultist, writing propaganda to support the dictatorship. The entire book is arguably John's character development away from this to sympathy with the freedom fighters outside- while he's still being held in Jesus' throne room."
"I find such a nuanced character a fitting counterpart to Helena," she continued, peeping through her monocle, her top hat discarded by a sniffer of brandy and a cigar, "even if Helena doesn't do shrooms. Oh well. More for the rest of us, I suppose."

Theories about John's character must now take into account the disparity between the ending, previously thought fictional, and the unfortunate events of last century. While Revelations ends on a downer note, with "Jesus'" dictatorship cemented and the rebels crushed, the altercation between Messrs. Incognito and Alucard Hellsing in Old London last century ended with victory for Mr. Hellsing, and thus the defeat of "Jesus'" real-world counterpart.
Some, like Prof. Aegypticus, theorize that the ending was written as a multifaceted condemnation of authoritarian rule, featuring on the surface the cautionary and dystopian ending of authoritarian victory, and beneath this the implication the John was forced to write this ending when held captive in "Jesus'" throne room. "This crushing of his artistic integrity and commitment to truth represents the most complete victory possible for Jesus," explains Prof. Aegypticus, "making the cautionary abhorrence we feel at then end absolute."
Others contend that the ending is meant to show that John had overdosed on shrooms and lost touch with reality, which climatically befits their interpretation of the work as one of the great pieces of stoner literature.
"Hey, I'm going to go eat some hors," concluded Prof. Aegypticus, donning her top hat. "Want to come?"

FREAK Co's Freak Chip (tm) (above, left), which has been identified with the "Baptism Spell" (above, right) in Revelations

Amid many fascinating identifications of real people with characters in the popular story Revelations, one particular identification that is shaking the business world is not of a person, but of a device.
Who can forget the chilling scenes in Revelations depicting the "Baptism Spell", a process by which "Jesus" brainwashes an unfortunate person into serving him and his dictatorship? When the wildly popular Freak Chip (tm), the device upon which FREAK Co's business empire is built, is identified with this "Spell", one cannot help but get a shiver up ones spine, no matter how silly the identification seems.
FREAK Co CEO Rotti Largo was quick to defend his product, noting that it has brought unlife to millions, "and with very affordable payment schedules, too, I might add."
"Our Freak Chips (tm) are perfectly safe," he continued. "All the consumer has to worry about is being ninety days delinquent on their payments." He laughed. "Or my goons will get you, huh? Haha!"
"But seriously. Don't fucking be delinquent on your payments."