Iscariot’s Trump Card, The Ripper, God’s Bayonet, Saint Guillotine. These names aren’t even a fraction of what Father Alexander Anderson has been called. He is known for many things, as a father to the orphanage and a priest. Though he is also known for his rampages, his holy missions of taking out heathens that plague this earth. He finds it repulsive unholy filth dares to exist on God’s creation. He can’t let it go unpunished. Tonight was one of Alexander’s holy missions. He was in the midst of dealing with ghouls, his precision is sharp, his blades held tightly in his hands. The vampire was still on the loose somewhere around this building. Once the ghouls have been exterminated, he senses a presence behind him. He is quick to turn around, his eyes focusing. His deep Scottish accent heard, echoing through the halls.

“Stop hidin’ in tae shadows, ye wee little hellion.”