Disclaimer: Not mine! Not mine.

A/N: Hi, everybody. It's been a long time, hasn't it? Anyway, my new and current obsession is Van Helsing, and so this fan fiction was born! Hope you all enjoy it, and please leave me some feedback. They're incredibly inspirational.

Iniquity

Prologue

Gabriel Van Helsing sucked in a shaky breath as he prepared to charge through the streets toward the mansion on the west side of the city of Rome. This mission was very different from what he was used to. This time, he had to face a different kind of monster; one that was very mortal, very deadly, and very, very human.

Creatures of the night, hulking things with the characteristics of a bat ad an unsurprisingly bad attitude, that was what Van Helsing was used to. He didn't interact well with people because he never really had a reason to do so. He did not possess the charm, nor was he amiable enough to attract anyone's positive attention. The only things he seemed to be able to attract were pitchforks and bullets when it came to people.

Luckily, charm and amiability were not needed this night. You didn't need to be pleasant when you killed someone, especially when they are a raving psychopath plotting on blowing up his family. And you needn't charm said family to get them out of the danger zone, either. He guessed that his job was easier in that respect than in others, but he liked to avoid contact with people all together, if he could.

Perhaps it was because of his anti-socialism, or maybe the fact that he sensed something dark at work, but regardless of the reason, Van Helsing was nervous. He traveled down the reeking backstreet with caution, and he could feel a cold sweat bead upon his brow. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to concentrate on the task at hand.

He tried to remember the conversation back at headquarters in its entirity. Going over the plan had always helped him calm down. Tonight was no different.

"Mr. King's family is currently staying at their business partner, Mario Lugosi's mansion," Carl had told him while he'd been preparing for his mission. "It's in Rome, so you'll be back home in time for breakfast!" This cheerful comment did not lighten Gabriel's mood, but if Carl noticed his friend's glum expression, he said nothing about it. He handed the monster hunter a map guiding him to the target home.

Van Helsing took the piece of parchment into his own hands and folded it into squares before replying, "Great. Now I have to be the most wanted man in Italy, too?"

"You're already the most wanted man in Italy," the friar pointed out, reminding him that Italy was, in fact, a part of Europe.

"I know, I know, but I've never actually 'committed a crime' in Italy. Now my home country's going to hate me even more."

"Well, there's no one else to do it."

"Why don't the police do it?" Van Helsing asked spitefully. He did not enjoy doing another man's job, especially when that man could just as easily do it himself, and he did not hold the lazy in high regard, seeing as how slothfulness was one of the deadly sins.

"The police don't know about it," Carl patiently explained, by now all too aware of his friend's gloomy countenance.

"They why don't we tell them?"

"Because we don't exist."

Because we don't exist. Of course, he had to have that answer slap him in the face yet again. Why hadn't he seen that coming? He only heard it before and after every mission he went on, which infuriated him to no end. It was a good reason, as logical as it was metaphorical, and it shot down any argument he made, and made way for far too many injustices done by him.

This, however, was something he had to accept. This was his job now, and he couldn't very well do anything else; not if he wanted to regain his past. So he put up with this half-existence, and took the mission with little more hesitation or contempt than a vulture does a soured carcass.

With a sigh, he shook his head. Rather than calming him down, the memories were only making him angry and distracted. He pushed himself forward, dashing through the darkened streets of Italy.

But still, as he ran through the dead silent streets, he was even more acutely aware of this half-life that he lived. No one saw him now as he darted off to commit an act of good, to protect them as they slept. Their heads were turned for now, and they ignored his valiant efforts to keep their chaotic world in order. But as soon as the body was found, they would point the finger at him and shout accusations of, "murderer," among other things. Then they'd mourn over the body of a crazed killer, and wish Van Helsing an early grave.

Only once had he ever been thanked for saving the lives of others. It had been recently, on his last mission. He had just slain the dreaded Count Dracula, the son of the devil, and for the first time in those long seven years, his name had been cheered. The people of Transylvania, specifically the town of Vaseria, had pat him on the back in their gratitude, and offered him their love and acceptance.

He had not been able to celebrate then, however, because he felt more like a murderer than a hero. His lovely Anna had been killed by his hand, and whether he'd been himself at the time or not was irrelevant. She was dead, and he could not forgive himself for what had happened.

The painful, unbidden memory startled him so much that it brought him to a complete halt. He hadn't thought about that in a long while. He thought of Anna frequently, sure, but he'd blocked her death from his mind, as if it had never had even happened, and that he would in a literal sense, "see her again." But the memory's sudden return stung bitterly. She was gone, and she wasn't coming back. If he went back to Vaseria, she would not be waiting for him there. She wouldn't smile at him and ask him how he'd been, and he couldn't pull her close and tell her how much he'd missed her.

The gaping maw of a wound in his chest was open again, and even though he could not see it, it burned with as clear a pain as if he'd been struck back a double-edged sword hot from the coals.

A loud, cracking sound jerked Van Helsing painfully out of his trance. His eyes swept the area, landing upon the roof of the Lugosi mansion. Something wasn't right… If it had been quiet before, it was a deafening roar in comparison to the silence that plagued the area now.

Was it the calm before the storm?

Yes, it was. He could feel it- it was something that he was used to, but he'd never felt it at such an intensity as this. He took off running down the streets yet again, a flash of worry upon his face.

He was going to fail.

The flames didn't come as a shock or surprise, but the surge of noise made him cringe. Heat and wind barated him, pushing him back as the mansion exploded. The wood and glass melted away in the heat, leaving only a blinding light in its place.

He was too late; the mansion and the family inside it were gone in a pillar of flame and burning hatred. The stink of defeat stung his nose as it mixed with the smoke and gun powder and sweat.

Still, he pushed on, ducking past fallen beams and dodging stray fires. Logic told him that no one could have survived that explosion, but hope would not leave him alone. Something tugged him forward, as if he were being pulled by an invisible rope.

He sucked in a breath of air in order to call out, but only choked on the smog that now swallowed him. He dropped to his knees, coughing and gasping. It was a good thing this happened, for he would not have seen the girl otherwise.

She couldn't be older than eight, though it was hard to tell because her rounded face was smudged and beaten and stained with tears. Her blonde mop was a mass of knots and sweat, and her once-pink dress was torn and stained. She lay not a foot away from him, her eyes closed, the small abrasion on the side of her head bleeding onto the pavement. Her chest rose and fell as the smoky air filled and escaped her lungs.

He stared at her for only a second before scooping her up into his arms and than dashing back in the direction of the Vatican. By divine providence, he had managed to save at least one person that night; the mission was not a complete loss, thank God. Now all he had to do was make sure the girl lived. She didn't seem to have many wounds, and none of them looked fatal, but one could never be certain…

Van Helsing retreated into the darkness as the people began to poke their heads out of their windows to watch the house burn. As he escaped, the air grew colder around him, but the heat of the fire burned away at him even as he entered the cathedral.

A/N: Well, that's it for the prologue. I know it's confusing, but bear with me. All will be explained in due time, so don't panic, okay? I've even already started the first chapter, so it shouldn't be long before an update. Not making any promises, though.

Anyway, if you enjoyed it or think that it could be improved, please let me know! I love getting reviews from my readers and I'm excited to hear what you all think!

Thanks for reading!