A fairly random idea which has been niggling at the back of my head for the longest time: a fusion of the Secrets of the Third Reich and Dust tabletop games with Hellsing lore and a dabble of 1984 towards the end. This is probably just going to be a one-shot although if anyone wants to take the idea and run with it, be my guest.

Also, I originally wrote the Major without the ridiculous German accent but it just did not look right to me. I tried to use phonetic spellings but if it is hard to read, I apologise in advance.


It had taken every ounce of political influence that Arthur Hellsing possessed to convene this meeting of the Conference of Twelve. Every favour, debt or hint of friendship had been ruthlessly twisted and manipulated, every possible argument, threat and bribe had been expended for the sake of this single moment. He looked around at the assembled faces. Sir Irons, his old friend and closest ally, inclined his head in a reserved show of support. Opposite from him, the Prime Minister lounged with his usual arrogant frown set upon his heavily jowled face. Field Marshal Montgomery was next, irritated at having been recalled from mainland Europe and his preparations for the airborne invasion of the Netherlands. The last of the major players was James Walsh, one of the main British diplomats to the United States and Hellsing's main rival. The rest were industrialists and financiers, people whose significance had waned greatly since the outbreak of war.

The atmosphere was terse and their collective expressions were stony. The young master of the Hellsing family had to suppress a wince at their obvious impatience. In a way they were justified. The Round Table Conference represented the true leadership of the British Empire and everyone was therefore acutely aware that the longer they remained in a single room, the greater the possibility that a German bomber plane might get lucky and deprive Britain of much needed guidance during this crucial stage in the war.

He cleared his throat.

"Gentlemen," he began, "in front of you are reports produced by the Secret Intelligence Service concerning a facility just outside of Warsaw. Earlier this year, a large task force of scientists under the protection of the Waffen-SS began research here into a variety of abhorrent practices. One of the projects is an attempt to build artificial vampires."

Among the well dressed industrialists, there was a hushed murmur. Montgomery's frown deepened while Walsh seemed to be slightly amused by something. Hellsing swore inwardly. This was not having the effect he had intended.

"Germany intends to use these abominations as weapons," he continued, "unholy instruments of death which will reverse our recent gains into mainland Europe and may even return us to the deplorable position in which we found ourselves in the summer of 1940. I..."

"This is a waste of time," Montgomery snapped, making no attempt to keep his voice down. The already tense atmosphere became even more so as the venerable Field Marshal and the current patriarch of the Hellsing family glared at each other. After a moment, Walsh stood, his countenance one of complete calm. The sight irritated Hellsing more than any number of blustering military men ever could.

"Sir Hellsing," the diplomat purred, "you are clearly not aware that this report was made known to many us several days ago as soon as it was received from our friends in the Russian 47th Army. We have already taken the necessary steps to prevent this situation from becoming a significant problem."

This time, it was Arthur Hellsing's turn to snap.

"What!" he roared, "You were aware of a vampire threat to our nation and you neglected to mention it to me? Need I remind you that the mandate of the Hellsing Organisation..."

"... is no longer valid under Emergency Powers (Defence) Act of 1939," Walsh interrupted smoothly, his handsome face smirking with presumed victory, "In fact, considering that five and a half million men are currently advancing on the Rhine from the West and an ungodly number of Soviets from the East, I have difficulty imagining a way the Germans could possibly hope to turn this war around, even if they were... vampires."

There were some brainless chuckles from the industrialists and Walsh accepted their sycophancy with another one of his irritatingly overly-magnanimous hand gestures. Hellsing felt his blood boiling. He was about to tear into Walsh (and perhaps not quite as metaphorically as the diplomat would have liked) when he heard the scrape of another chair and turned to see the Prime Minister on his feet as well. The old bulldog of a man pierced Hellsing through with a gaze as powerful as one of the blessed stakes that formed a key part of any vampire hunter's arsenal. The room was immediately silent as everyone waited to see what the Prime Minister had to say.

Churchill cleared his throat before rumbling, "Mr Walsh, please sit down and cease your petty antagonism of Sir Hellsing." The diplomat's face darkened with anger but he did not have the authority to challenge the Prime Minister, not here, so he sat without further comment. Churchill's gaze never wavered from Arthur Hellsing. Hellsing was about to thank the Prime Minister when Churchill cut him off. "I was the one who instructed that High Command not inform you of the Nazi facility in Warsaw. In hindsight, it was foolish to imagine that the report would not eventually make its way into your hands regardless of my order."

To say that the news was a shock was a tremendous understatement. Of all the men of the Round Table, of all the men in England even, Arthur Hellsing had always been sure that Churchill had the strongest sense of duty. The Prime Minster went about his own with such a fervent passion that Hellsing was sure he would understand the criminality in preventing his organisation from carrying out its own Royal Mandate. It took him a moment before he was able to articulate a simple, "Why?"

In lieu of answer, the Prime Minister removed a sheet of paper from inside his suit and offered it to Hellsing. The young vampire hunter snatched the document and quickly scanned through it, mumbling out words that jumped out at him.

"Beichel... von Braun... Lippisch... von Ohain... Harteck... Ziegler... Heisenberg... Gehlen ..." he paused. One name was scrawled at the very bottom and circled twice in bright red ink. "Napyeer?"

Churchill nodded, his already grim face set in cold lines. He said, "That is a list given to me by our friends across the Atlantic. It is their Black List, a compiled report of all the German scientists and engineers who might prove useful to us in... in the future."

The unspoken threat of war with the Soviet Union loomed over his words. Suddenly it made sense.

"You were afraid that Aluca... that my people would not leave any alive? Is that why you tried to prevent me from finding out? So that you could steal the Nazi's scientists and use them against the Soviets?"

The Prime Minister's gaze was absolutely steady.

"I have made my choice. The SOE and a detachment of American commandos will deal with the facility. They may not be vampire hunters but they are elite soldiers. You will not release your abomination without my prior permission. And do not quote the Royal Mandate to me. Zealotry is unbecoming of an Anglican."

Arthur Hellsing's face was one of absolute stone. He nodded once and then turned to the door. Just as he reached it, he turned and spoke to the remaining members of the Conference.

"Spare the scientists if you must but promise me that you will kill the Major in charge of the operation. That man... He is destruction incarnate. Nothing short of death will ever prevent him from being a threat to our nation and the human race as a whole. I hope for all of our sakes that these "elite soldiers" of yours are enough."


The U-Boat was scattered with broken wood and spilled grave earth. The Waffen-SS Kommandos who had received the experimental surgery were still vulnerable to large stretches of water but the U-Boat was by now sufficiently close to land for them to awaken safely. They all crowded into the area under the conning tower, awaiting instructions from their commander.

At length, the man appeared. He was dressed in a startlingly white suit that seemed surreally clean in the dank interior of the submarine and accompanied by his faithful bodyguard who was forced to bend almost double to fit in the low ceilinged craft. As he saw them waiting for him, he grinned and opened his hands wide.

"Friends... It is good to see you all again, perhaps not alive but certainly vell..."

There were some appreciative chuckles and the Major offered a bow of the head before his expression grew more serious.

"Friends... It has often been said zat all good things must come to an end. In three veeks, ze forces of ze Third Reich vill make a great offensive against ze American and British forces in ze Ardennes. It vill be a glorious battle, of zat I have no doubt. The Reich vill commit ze very finest varriors, ze very finest tanks and planes, ze very finest generals to bring about an end to ze Vestern Allies' advance into ze Vaterland. Ze latest Tiger tanks, entire divisions of Waffen-SS and paratroopers... Herr Skorenzy himself vill be taking centre stage."

The man's voice faded for a moment, heavy with regret.

"And ve vill not be zere to see it happen. For all zat magnificent equipment and men, for all zat glorious death... it vill not succeed. The Reich is only delaying ze inevitable. In a year, maybe two, Berlin vill fall and our beloved var vill be over."

His voice trembled and then fell silent as if he had just finished a eulogy. The soldiers in black began to shift, uncertain of what to do. But then the white suited man raised his arms wide, a broad grin on his face.

"But my friends... do not fear. You are no longer bound be ze same mortal laws vich chain your former comrades on ze continent. The Führer, rest his soul, lacks ambition. A thousand year Reich?"

He began to laugh.

"As if I could sate my thirst for var in a mere millennium! I could vage var for an eternity and never tire of it even ze slightest!"

His words seemed to have worked his men into a frenzy as they raised their arms in salute and roared out: "Krieg! Krieg!"

"My friends... did you not shudder venever ve vere told to salute "victory"? Every time ve vere forced to chant those vords: "Seig Heil", I felt a knife twist in my gut. Victory? It is a state even worse than defeat; because while defeat breeds hatred and anger and conflict anew, what does "victory" have to offer except insipid peace? My friends, the Führer will fail because he demands "victory" ven all he has to do is embrace var."

"But you, my friends, you are different. None of us need ever again be compared to short-sighted mortals who veaken themselves vith hopes of "peace". Ve are more zan that, more zan human. Ve recognise zat ze only vay to truly live is to kill. Ve vere all born and raised in ze shadow of ze Old Great Var. Ve vere all forged anew in this new vun. Var is everything ve are, everything ve can ever be. Any purpose beyond zat is meaningless, diluting ze martial purity of our cause."

He inhaled sharply, his expression one of absolute mania.

"So vat do you say, my friends? Do ve expend our magnificent new immortal bodies serving a dying empire that thinks only of "peace" or do ve move onvard, create a new Reich, an Eternal Reich. A nation of the undying, of ceaseless battle! Gentlemen!"

He threw open the hatch to the coning tower and stood up on the ladder, urging them upwards.

"I give you ze promised land; our Valhalla!"

As he leapt onto the top deck, the Kommandos followed him, all of them cheering at the top of their voices. As they emerged, the Major climbed still higher atop the conning tower and it was from here that he saw the distant outline of New York harbour. His face ruddy with boyish excitement, he pointed towards the city.

"Gentlemen! I give you WAR!"


"You are looking vell, Major."

The new Führer of the Eternal Reich gave a wide smile.

"I have never been better, dear Doktor. Never better, I assure you."

He stood and walked over to the bank of televisions which had been installed along one wall of the former office of the President of the United States. Each was playing something subtly different but general theme was the same. The Major took his time inspecting each one before turning back to the Doktor, his smile if possible even wider.

"I still get shudders thinking about zose magnificent "atomic bombs" which ze Americans had up zer sleeve. Absolutely magnificent..."

The Major seemed to lose himself for a moment as his eyes grew wide in fond remembrance of those devastating weapons.

"I vas lost to ze vorld for veeks after zey bombed Germany vith ze things, trying to stop us. So much raw power released in mere seconds! Zey made even ze greatest artillery barrage look like a damp firecracker. I vas in ze purest ecstasy... And ze after effects vere perfect too. Neighbours killing each uzer for scraps of bread, soldiers pillaging zeir own homelands and... Oh vat vas it called? Ze fallout? Beautiful! People rotting even before they've realised they're dead, like ghouls but alive and crying!"

The Major wiped tears of joy from his golden eyes, his face still glowing from the aftermath of that exquisite experience.

"But... I fear I may have overindulged. Seeing ze entire of Germany go up in flames within ze space of a single day vas vithout a doubt vun of ze most sublime things I have ever vitnessed but it vas vasteful too. All of ze Soviets and Amerikaners and Brits who vould have died in the streets of Aachen and Berlin, in the forests of Hürtgen and the Ardennes... Zey vere battles vich might have surpassed even Stalingrad! Months... Years more of war. It was... Zese atomic bombs are like eating an entire chocolate cake in a single bite. Delicious, yes, but sometimes, vun ought to savour vun's food."

He yawned and turned away from the screens.

"Ah vell, zere's nothing ve can do about it now."

A pair of officers entered the office at this point, carrying a large map between them. At the Doktor's instruction it was laid out on the old desk.

What had once been the mainland US was now shaded feldgrau and emblazoned with the eagle of the Eternal Reich, as was the old British dominion of Canada. Germany itself was shaded in black with a bright yellow sign which the Major was told was the symbol for radiation. France, Spain, Italy and many of their old colonies in Africa and the New World were all coming together under the banner of the Vatican, one of the few powers with the occult knowledge and expertise to provide a legitimate bulwark against the vampiric forces of the Eternal Reich. To the East, Stalin's armies were grinding down the Japanese Pacific Empire with the assistance of Chinese Communists under a man called Mao Zedong. There was talk of a Sino-Soviet Pact, a deal which would put a vast fraction of the world's population under communist rule. Just as interesting were reports that the Russians were using weaponised psychics against the Japanese and rumours that Stalin himself either was or had immediate access to a capable precogniscient, thus accounting for his uncanny ability to survive every attempt on his life or coup. The SS had dabbled with psychics a few times, as had the Gestapo, but Germany lacked both the population and the ethnic diversity to build any significant number. Clearly, that was not a problem for the Communists. The Major was already salivating at their inevitable invasion of Japan which promised to be one of the most bloody battles ever fought.

And then there was the British Empire, stalwartly anti-Catholic and rigidly anti-Communist. It lacked the awesome naval power it had once commanded and its domains were swiftly shrinking given the recent loss of Canada and their difficulty in holding onto India, not to mention the massive physical distances between the British mainland and its allies in Australia and Africa but it did possess something which none of the other emerging powerblocks enjoyed: a true vampire bound to a human bloodline. Yes, the Hellsings would make interesting opponents indeed.

The Major smiled down at the map.

His war was only beginning.