Disclaimer: Hellsing belongs to Kouta Hirano. Sin City to Frank Miller.
Author's Notes: Edited by ariaminerva, set post volume 8, chapter 8 (possible AU if Hirano contradicts). Response of the Sin City quote challenge in bloody shorts. The employed quote was: "The Valkyrie at my side is shouting and laughing with the pure, hateful, bloodthirsty joy of the slaughter... and so am I" (Dwight).
The ravens were coming; Major Montana Max had expected them to arrive at some point. They were flying across the grey sky with metal, black wings that no longer flutter. Even so, they were still the great birds of prey that took the souls of the soldiers to their end. Smiling, he spread his arms wide in greeting as Doc screamed behind him.
"Jets, Major! We are under attack! We need to activate the defence shields! We need to get Butler back in the deck!" he urged.
But Major did not listen to him; instead, he lowered his gaze onto the battlefield. The dark wolves were running through the smoking remains of London, consuming everyone with their eternal hunger. He laughed loudly as his troops and the knights were taken away by her order, she the Valkyrie who selected each warrior to taste the wine in Valhalla.
"Major!" Doc was more insistent, babbling something about broken shields and missiles for which he had no care.
"Butler has joined the feast until Ragnarok," Major pointed out; his smile widened as she saw his chosen manservant slain by her sword. Butler had not moved after his initial attack to Seras Victoria; the vampire lost her other arm by it. The blocks that held Walter's mind failed when he was to take Integral. Even at such distance, Major could smell the tears coming through her eyes as she beheaded him, how the Butler's blood stained her blonde hair and hands, creating an armour around her heart.
Major paid no heed to the craws of the ravens that zoomed closer and closer or the good Doctor's concerned observations. Most did not understand, not even his own men who were simple-minded enough to be lured with dreams of fleeting triumphs, that the war had no sides. Everyone would meet their end, and only the worthy warriors would be chosen for a greater battle in another life. Nazis, Catholics, and Protestants; humans and vampires were all worshipping the war itself. There were no real losers or winners, they were all on the same side.
Only two were aware of that truth, aside from him, one of which had been in denial for too long until now.
She recovered remarkably quickly, brandishing the blade to open her path to the vampire girl. Major assumed Integral Hellsing would overcome the test, to complete her potential; there was something different in her expression, in her aura; if she were closer, he would see himself reflected on her eyes.
She shouted an order to her hound, to the chief of her wolves. She ordered him to kill everyone again. Her tone was electric; it thundered to his ears above all the screams and noises. There was a slipped smile on her features. The Butler had not died alone with that blow.
"Major!" Doc called again, exasperated, interrupting his musings. "The Warrant Officer informs me there has been an usual movement in the high security cell!"
Major turned around, inclining his head, grinning gleefully. "The Valkyrie at my side is shouting and laughing with the pure, hateful, bloodthirsty joy of the slaughter..." he extended his hand to gesture to Fräulein Hellsing on the field below, ordering destruction and chaos, enthusiastic for more. "And so am I," he added, walking away from the deck, ushering Doc with him, shutting the iron doors before the missiles of the jets destroyed the place.
Major kept walking in direction of the first prisoner's chambers, through the empty corridors of the Zeppelins. Most of his men were down or in the other ship; he kept his chosen ones close. He was unperturbed by his genius companion's wincing or by Schrödinger's arrival. He pushed away all memories of the beautiful Valkyrie on the battlefield to focus on another woman. It was almost shameful Integral Hellsing would not be the one who would claim his life, but such was his fate.
The ravens' light peaking have stirred the sleeping Freya and, as sons, we must greet our mother.