Anderson Quest: Killing Vampires and Werewolves and Leprechauns (Hellsing/Bloodborne)

Just as the creature rears back for a sixfold overhand strike, it vanishes into the fog and you leap away before its clone can bring down the house on your left. Sickle blows rain down as you scramble away; there's barely enough of a gap between them materializing and them trying to kill you for you to weather the storm.

The one bright side is that the cut was so clean that you're already starting to get feeling back in your arm, allowing you to prep bayonets for a counter-attack. It's not just that slight bit of lag that's saving your ass, you realize; it's not doing a good job of leading you with its teleports, falling into the ancient trap of attacking where you are instead of where you're going to be.

This, in turn, lets you predict where it's going to pop up next, and the rasping scream when you put a foot of blessed steel in its shoulder confirms that you didn't hit a clone. The julienned remains staining the arena keep you from pressing the advantage, which proves wise when a counter swing comes within centimeters of violently deviating your septum.

The onslaught slows to about half its previous pace, and you can just make out the Wet Nurse standing in the center while its clone pours on the punishment. As it struggles to pull your bayonet from its shoulder, hand crisping as it does, one of the maimed men latches onto her lower body and bursts into flames, the others pouring on in a desperate suicide attack.

The clone breaks off from assaulting you to carve away at them while the original teleports away. More limbs fly, but they put up enough resistance that you rematerialize atop the shattered walls by the time the pair turn their attention back to you.

"Ye're goin' ta time-out, ye fuckin' bad habit."

Nails, pages, and a good chunk of your energy reserves cascade through the night sky, closing in on their target like a swarm of pious hornets. The clone takes a desperate swing and the original goes Mr. Stabtastic again with the extendo-arms, but with so little room to maneuver on the narrow stone ring, neither manages a hit. The ward flares to life with the original in its embrace.

You get about half a second of pained screaming before the holy light gives the flash of an overtaxed light bulb and winks out. The Wet Nurse uncovers itself and look at you with what, to your highly-tuned senses and unmatched empathy, looks like a heady mix of confusion and contempt.

Then the fog begins to bulge, streams of light swimming through it as it warps and swells. The thunderhead roils, rumbles, sweats enough ozone to clean out your sinuses. The creature looks down at its surroundings, looks at you, and vanishes while your self-preservation instincts assume direct control and attempt to drag you behind a section of wall.

"Oh, shi-"

The mass of fog detonates with a sound like John Entwistle in a bass battle with God. The pressure wave peels a good chunk of your clothing off and does assorted bad shit to the bones and organs beneath, while the heat lashes your exposed flesh immediately after. You tumble back, stunned, and catch yourself on a metal spike by instinct alone. Your right shoulder, not quite mended, begins to come apart once again before you return to your senses and pull yourself back into the arena.

Your teammates, if they weren't already, are dead as fuck, burned or pulped by the blast. You spit out some blood and wrangle with your double vision, looking for the Wet Nurse.

What you thought was a big hunk of debris suddenly moves. Half of it vanishes, while the other straightens up with visible agony and rounds on you. Its wings are a twisted ruin and only three arms answer the call to spread in defiance.

The crib behind it is totally untouched. One of the other arms trembles as it strokes whatever's inside with all the care a flesh-stripped claw can muster.

There's no elegance left in its movement. It lurches towards you, dragging its blades along the stones in a shower of sparks, and you stumble to meet it in the center. Your pummeled brain can't figure out which one of you is Rocky and which one is Drago.

[] Write in...

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CURRENT STATUSES:

Anderson: Lingering torso damage, concussion, exhaustion, internal bleeding, and bone damage

The squad: RIP(ieces)

The Wet Nurse: Three arms combat-worthy, severe burns, bone damage