Hellsing Fan Fiction ❯ Tales of the Iscariot Jerikor Veorraent ❯ A new Enemy Emerges ( Chapter 2 )

Tales of Jerikor Veorraent Chapter 2: A New Enemy Emerges

DISCLAIMER: I do not own the Iscariot organisation nor do I own Enrico Maxwell, or any section of the Vatican. I only borrow them, but I have no intention to return them.

I speak now of the Iscariot's most secret weapon. A being so foul and unholy that my hand shudders with suppressed rage and disgust as I write its name: Jerikor, fallen angel. Lore has it that he fought with the Archangel Michael himself against the hordes of Lucifer in ages past. Why he was banished is unknown, but he was considered amongst the foremost of God's warriors. A glorious fighter of the Most Holy Lord. How far he has fallen.

Jerikor scowled at the women in front of him. She was attractive, he had to admit, short red hair and sparkling green eyes. Her name was Tess and she was new to the Iscariots, in fact she had not yet completed her training. She openly disdained the habit of a Nun, instead wearing a simple shirt and jeans. Absently Jerikor wondered why the superiors allowed this transgression, but he had to grudgingly respect her, she had found him, tracked him through the dim shadowy corridors of the Vatican, and despite his best efforts to evade her, she had found him. She seemed drawn to him, and although he was loath to admit, he to her, she had spirit and an attitude a mild wide. He had seen one of the superiors try to force her into a habit, and she had resisted admirably, despite his far greater strength, she had kicked him in the groin and quickly ran of, leaving the priest in the middle of the corridor, clutching his groin and a habit, not the best image for tourists to see Jerikor thought, chuckling.

She stared at him, and was getting on his nerves, "Didn't anyone ever tell you it is rude to stare at someone?" he snapped.

"So who are you?" she asked, ignoring his question.

"I am someone who would rather be else where," he said bitterly, striding of.

She trotted alongside him, she was short, maybe 5 foot and a half foot or so, and Jerikor towered above her, his seven and a half foot frame dwarfing her, yet she was not intimidated.

"Are you one of those regenerators?" she asked, her voice tinged with awe.

"Ha ha!" laughed Jerikor, "One of those Holy Templars," he spat, " No lass, I am something far more terrible than a mere regenerator."

"So who are you?" she asked again.

Thankfully Jerikor was receiving summons from Enrico, "If you will excuse me, Dues Benedict (1)" he said, walking through the wall before she could reply. He enjoyed her look of shock across her face and sharp intake of breath as he disappeared right in front of her eyes. Although Enrico's summons were becoming painful, he couldn't resist sinking the top half of his body through the ceiling above her.

"I'll be seeing you around" he said. He chuckled as she looked around wildly for the source of the voice. He chuckled again and faded away, reappearing in Enrico's office.

He appeared dressed in his normal apparel, white shirt and pants, with a black jacket shrouding his frame. The silver cross swung at his neck, and his broad-brimmed black hat was tilted rakishly over his head. Enrico looked displeased, as he always did when around Jerikor.

"You called master, and I am here, ever your servant," Jerikor said sarcastically.

"Shut up! I don't have time today for your taunts or games, Fallen!" snapped Enrico.

"Oh, another blight against God, that you and your precious organisation can't deal with," mocked Jerikor.

"Not exactly. One of the recruits is especially gifted, and I have been ordered by the Archdeacon and the Holy Pope himself," Jerikor ahhhed sarcastically, Enrico continued ignoring Jerikor's taunt, "That you will take over her training from now on."

"Wait a moment, HER?" asked Jerikor, a bad feeling rising in his mind.

Enrico looked spitefully happy, "She's a real handful apparently, she kicked a priest in the groin when he tried to make her wear a habit." Jerikor groaned, "Yes, she's a real handful, this Tessera Ardroimas," Enrico finished.

"Not her," groaned Jerikor.

"Go, Fallen, your pupil awaits your presence in the main hall." Enrico said, grinning spitefully.

Feeling cheated, Jerikor did not reply, just faded through the wall without a single good come back.

Jerikor decided to apparate outside the main hall, and walk in normally. Sure enough Tess was waiting, standing in the middle of the hall, her normal jeans and shirt had been replaced by a Nun's habit, in which she was clearly uncomfortable. Jerikor strode up to her, and when she turned to see who was coming her jaw dropped.

"All right, apparently you're good, so good in fact, that they have given me the responsibility of training you beyond the normal levels. I will oversee all your training and education from here on. Feel proud, I have only trained seven others, and they have made legends of themselves within our order" For all the wrong reasons thought Jerikor, but he did not say it, instead he asked, "Any questions?"

"So who actually are you?" she asked, for the third time that day.

He brushed aside her question, "I am your teacher, address me as such."

"What will you teach me?"

"Everything," he said simply. "Which will take a while, so I suggest we start immediately."

As he led her out of the main hall, he walked towards one of the training rooms, he continued, "There are only two rules when under my tutelage."

"Umm, okay," she said

"Firstly don't ask about me, you won't like the answers."

"And the second?" she asked

"Secondly, don't wear a habit to training, you can't move well enough."

"Okay"

"You have half a minute to get changed and be back here."

She gaped at him. "Twenty-five seconds". She took off at a dead sprint. He chuckled and strolled into the training room. It was full of sparring men and women, some were regenerators, and were using real blades against each other whilst others sparred with wooden weapons. As they became aware of Jerikor's presence the fighting slowly stopped. Many looked fearfully around, obviously in awe of Jerikor's size. Suddenly a man strode to the front of the group, clutching his holy blades. A look of righteous hate was stamped on his features. He strode up to Jerikor and snarled, "Begone Devil's progeny! This place is only for the Pure!"

Jerikor looked down at the man and spoke to no one in particular, "Who is this idiot?"

"I am Anrath, Holy Regenerator, and I will defeat you, Daemon servant."

"I wish you'd stop with the name calling, let me ask you, is the Pope or Enrico a daemon?"

The man looked a little unsure, "No of course not."

"Ah good, since I serve them, I was beginning to think we switched sides."

"Pah! There is no we, and you do not fool me with your seeming obedience." Anrath spat. "I will destroy your blight upon God's Holy Creation here and now" He lunged at Jerikor with his Holy blades.

Jerikor easily dodged and laughed, "I'm not allowed to hurt members of he church, but if you continue…" Jerikor ducked under another swipe, then grinned ferally, "I guess I'll have to apologise to Enrico latter."

Anrath lunged again, this time Jerikor did not move. The Holy Blades impacted with his chest, and then bent and snapped in half. Anrath looked at his blades in panic, and then looked at Jerikor, his widening in pure panic. Jerikor grabbed the Regenerator's wrist, and started twisting his arm. The man was on his tiptoes trying to alleviate the pain, and Jerikor kept twisting. He started yelling in pain, and then, still only using one hand; Jerikor lifted Anrath into the air. Anrath screamed, and there was a meaty snap as his arm broke. Jerikor dropped the Regenerator and spoke to the crowd.

"Remember you may near immortal Regenerators wielding Holy blades, but there is always something more powerful. If you are inept you will be defeated by any foe. This fool," he nudged the whimpering Anrath with his foot, "could not stand up to the weakest ghoul. Get lost all of you, I need to train." No one moved. "Unless you would like to become participants?" There was a mad rush to the door, and soon Jerikor was alone in the deserted training room.

Jerikor started moving through the dance like steps of the Kung-Fu form. Being an immortal, he had learnt from some the greatest masters of the art. He had perfected many forms in his immortal life. The master's had been able to defeat him in single combat, something no mortal or immortal even could ever do, despite all his advantages and immortality, they had been able to defeat him. They were his happiest memories; he had been just like the other students, all in awe of the amazing skills of their master. He ended the form, and bowed to the memories of his former si-fus (2).

"Will I learn that?" Tess asked breathless in awe.

Jerikor admonished himself for not being aware of her presence, then chuckled. "Yes, but I have spent hundreds of years honing my martial arts. I will only teach you the most deadly and useful of the forms."

"But I won't learn that." She pouted.

"You're not immortal, so" he began

"Then make me an immortal," she interrupted, "You're a vampire aren't you?"

Jerikor burst out laughing, maybe it was better if she thought that, and it was safer than the truth in any regard.

"What's so funny?" she asked grumpily.

"I'm not allowed to make new vampires."

"No one needs to know."

"They'll know."

"We can risk it"

"If there was anyone I'd make into a vampire, it wouldn't be you," she was about to protest, but he cut her off, "It is very painful to live forever;" he said sadly.

She didn't press the matter anymore. He began to teach her the basics of unarmed combat and with weapons, and to his delight she was a brilliant student, showing capability with most weapons, and he did not have to repeat himself. She showed particular proficiency in knives, and he resolved to train her to use them properly. She was also a decent shot, showing skill in the rifle. They stopped after several hours; she was at the point of exhaustion. As soon as they stopped, she collapsed and immediately fell asleep. Jerikor was about to leave, but in a tender moment, he picked her up and carried her to his cell. He lay her on his cot, which he himself had never used, and as an afterthought, draped a blanket over her. Enrico was summoning him and so Jerikor left the peacefully sleeping Tess, and went to Enrico's office.

He stepped through a painting of the last supper, and walked into the office.

"For once I would have liked you to use the door," Enrico snapped.

"Doors are far too bothersome, my method is far more effective, and fun too."

"You are not here to have fun!"

"Fun, HAH!" laughed Jerikor, "Like serving the incompetent and impotent Vatican is fun!"

Enrico turned an alarming shade of purple, "That is blasphemy!" he spat.

"Ha! I didn't offend God, so it's not blasphemy"

"Your existence is blasphemy!" snarled Enrico.

"No arguments from me on that score, but if it is, what does make your existence?"

Enrico turned abruptly, and threw a book against the wall in rage.

"Now, now, anger management Enrico, your religion condones violence, remember?" mocked Jerikor. He made to leave, but Enrico halted him with a mental command.

"You have a guest," grated Enrico, clearly trying hard of restrain his anger.

"Ohh, who?" Jerikor asked, intrigued, "Who could have business with the Fallen Angel of the Vatican, who supposedly doesn't exist?"

"The father of your student," smirked Enrico.

"Hmm, that is surprising." He said thoughtfully, "Does he know of my true nature?"

"No and he should not learn."

"I'll try to keep it that way."

"So, no appearing through the walls, and use the doors for God's sake."

"Okay, okay, so where is he?" Jerikor asked, moving towards the door.

"The main training hall, he said he wants to test you."

"Test me?" Jerikor laughed, "How amusing, how very amusing." He chuckled as he opened the door and headed out.

"He used to be an Iscariot," Enrico called out.

"He's a regenerator?"

"No, he sees them as abominations:"

"Finally, someone who agrees with me!" Jerikor said, slamming the door on Enrico's reply. That felt good, slamming the door on someone, it had effect. He should use doors more often, he thought as he strolled down to the training area.

The training are was empty of its normal hustle and bustle. Jerikor thought the silence unnatural for it lacked the normal ring of blade on blade, and the grunts of combatants. Jerikor sensed movement behind him, and spun quickly, all he could see was blade descending towards him. He caught the blade in his hands, one on either side. Blood trickled down his wrists and with a swift movement; he snapped the blade in half.

"Not bad," a gravely voice filled the room. "Not bad at all" The man stepped forward. He was maybe 6 feet tall, although an old man's stoop made him seem shorter. He was heavily muscled though, and it was obvious that he had not let old age wither him, nor had it hampered this human too much; his step still had spring in it. As his face came into view, Jerikor saw it was criss-crossed by many scars, his blue eyes still sparkled though, and his white hair and beard were neatly trimmed and parted.

"So you would be the one in charge of my daughters education?" he continued in his gravely voice.

"Yes, I am Paladin Jerikor Veorraent," replied Jerikor.

"Are you one of those heathen regenerators?" he asked, cold fury glinting in his eyes, yet his voice remained steady.

How remarkable for a human! Thought Jerikor, he exhibits far more control than most of his kind these days, although Jerikor had not many humans he could talk to, most either loathed him and spat his name and snarled when they talked to him, or they just tried to kill him.

"No I am not a regenerator, I have not been…altered in any way," Jerikor said, and technically, he thought I'm not actually lying.

"That is good," said the man, "it is a sad day that the Iscariot organisation stoops to using monsters in our most holy duty."

"I have told you my name, but you have me at a disadvantage…"

"I am Father Abram Ardroimas."

"Your daughter is very gifted" Jerikor complimented him.

"She is my foster daughter." Said Abram coldly.

"Of course," muttered Jerikor, "no catholic priest would ever have a family."

"She is not gifted either, I have trained her from the age of 6 to become an Iscariot. A human Iscariot. But she has disappointed me, she is not as disciplined as I had thought, and they told me that she refuses to wear a habit."

"Of course not," said Jerikor, "I have personally banned her from wearing a habit."

"WHAT?" screamed Abram.

"Of course, discipline is over rated anyway, to be successful, you must retain some individuality."

"But you…"

"Hah, old man, no mere human can kill a monster." Jerikor said insultingly.

"But you said…"

"Hah," smirked Jerikor, "you only asked if I was a regenerator, you never asked if I was human!"

"You are…"

"Something more terrible than you can imagine old man. Now get lost, and don't interfere with the training of my student." Jerikor walked through the wall, disappearing. Slamming doors was nice, but far too…too…too human!

Behind him, still in the room, Abram was shaking with barely suppressed rage, "The Pope will hear of this, mark my words, Jerikor, your days are numbered," he sputtered.

Back at Jerikor's quarters, Tess woke up to find herself in an unfamiliar cell.

"This will be your cell from now on, don't tell anyone that you've moved, and don't tell them where to, I want to avoid even more accusations." Jerikor's voice sounded out, before he came into the room, stepping through a bookcase. "It is mine, but since I never sleep and have very few interests, I hardly ever use it."

The room was large, larger than her cell, and even bigger than her room back at her father's house. The thought of her father struck her.

"Uhm…my father…he might…come here." She said hesitantly.

"Him? Do you mean Abram Ardroimas?" she look up startled "I already dealt with him," said Jerikor chuckling.

"Thanks" she said, looking around the cell once more, but it had nothing in it, save the cot she was lying on, and the bookcase he arrived through. There was a plain table in the middle of the room, with a simple wooden chair. She looked at it, pursing her lips in thought, "Can I add stuff?" she asked.

"Sure, but you don't know where you are." Laughed Jerikor.

Tess suddenly realised that there was no door. She looked around in panic.

"It's simple, you just pull this book here," Jerikor said, tugging at a book, and with a dull creak the bookcase slid open. They left Jerikor's cell. They were in an empty corridor, "This leads to the library," Jerikor said, "and to get back in, merely pull the fourth torch ring from the intersection." He finished, "any questions?"

"Uhm, where is your coffin," she asked blushing.

"My what?"

"Your coffin, where you sleep." She said still blushing.

"Oh, that," Jerikor said, quickly making up something, "It is in the basement, in a room with silver walls, they put me there when they have had enough of me."

"Okay" said Tess smiling.

"Why did you want to know?" Jerikor asked suspiciously.

"Oh no reason…just curious, that's all!" she said quickly.

"Hmm, okay, well I bid you good day then," he said, moving towards the wall.

"Uhm, wait a minute," Tess called out, grabbing his arm.

"What?" asked Jerikor.

She hugged him tightly, "Thanks," she said, smiling up at him.

Jerikor quickly extracted himself from her embrace, by sinking through the floor, "I'd get some sleep if I was you, tonight will last a long time."

Translations

(1) God bless

(2) Sifu is the Chinese word for teacher or master

Sorry not much happened in that chapter, bit I just had to introduce those two new characters, we'll be seeing more of them in the future. I promise the next chapter will have more fights, and I may have to raise the rating. OOPS I didn't put a disclaimer in the first chapter. Hope no body decides to sue me =)