War had wrung you dry, your body barely moving as London burned around you. You needed to get back to your commander, Sir Integra, and her vampire, Alucard. As you trudged across rubble and fire, you saw him. Alucard.

He wasn’t in his usualy form. There was no red coat or straight hair. He kneeled in front of Integra, wearing armor, a thick metal coating his body. His long cape was battle worn, his hair now in long tattered curls which blew in the wind. And when he spoke, his accent was now Romanian. This was his true form. Vlad Dracula.

“You are… alive.”