“He’s a palooka,
He’s a brute,
He drives me crazy,
But he’s cute,
Why do I-
Love a guy-
I ought to shoot?
He’s a demon,
He’s a devil,
He is a DOLL!”
(Song: He’s a Demon, He’s a Devil, He’s a Doll by Betty Hutton)
From the perspective of Claude S. Grey.
I heard this song again and had to make this.
I spent all day writing this after planning for over a week. Here we see a lot more fluff to balance out the existential angst of the last part. And thus begins a transformation of Claude from the scared boy he has been the past couple of updates. It is also super late so I am definitely going to post this and hit the hay. I sincerely hope you all enjoy, because this is probably my favorite update so far.
The great zeppelin Deus Ex Machina, low over London, flames licking at the painted sides of its armored hull. Sir Integra and the vampire Seras Victoria had board, their arrival foretold by the Major himself. The door closed behind them and the great flying machine took to the air.
Claude jolted awake, eyes momentarily shocked by the lack of light in his bedroom. For a moment, it felt like he was back in the Hellsing Manor.
The Captain blocks their path, a great fortress to their mission of ending the Major. He politely lets Integra pass, ever the polite, loyal subject. With little ado, he and the blonde Police Girl begin their battle. Captain takes bullet after bullet, vicious punch after vicious punch. He returns in kind, unphased, his brutal strength reflected in rippling muscles as his greatcoat leaves his body.
Claude’s breath caught in his throat at the sight playing before his eyes in his vision. Such physical prowess as he’d never seen before. He felt a chill run down his spine. Was he scared of what he was seeing? No… No, scared was the wrong word. As the vision left his eyes and Claude sat in the darkened room, ruminating on what he saw, he was certain of one thing.
Fear was not the emotion he felt about the Captain right now.
——————————————————————————————-
With his newfound freedom, owing to his performance in Rio de Janeiro, Claude was allowed to roam the facilities in which Millennium housed themselves. Not leave, certainly not. But he was allowed the small bit of independence he craved, having previously spent nearly ten days locked in a cell.
That doesn’t mean he was truly free to wander everywhere unaccompanied. Everywhere he went, by his side was the Captain. Ostensibly it was to keep him in line, to make sure he didn’t stray anywhere he wasn’t supposed to go, to make sure he didn’t plot an escape. But if their goal was to intimidate him into submission, they would have kept Zorin Blitz as his handler. Claude had a sneaking suspicion the Captain requested to serve as his chaperone.
It had been three full weeks since his capture. The soldier hated to admit it, but he was already starting to get used to things around here.
They were observing the training area set up inside the Millennium facility. A squad of six vampires were sparring with First Lieutenant Blitz while several other squads supervised by Rip van Winkle were undertaking shooting practice.
Zorin was effortlessly beating them back. Even with just her fists, the other vampires couldn’t get close to her. Despite his intense hatred of her, Claude had to admit that her skill was impressive.
As they watched, Claude idly looked up at the Captain. The Captain, who was roughly half a meter taller than he was. Who was standing right beside him.
Claude’s attention was suddenly taken by a sharp whistle emanating from the training arena. He turned to face the source of the noise, to see Zorin waving with a grin on her face. “Human!” She shouted. “Vouldn’t you like to spar vith me? Who knows, I might even let you live!” He scowled.
“No thanks, cyclops. I’m perfectly content to watch from here.”
She laughed heartily at his comment. “Fine, then, feeble one.”
Zorin returned to fighting a new squad of vampires, and Claude let out a quiet sigh. He returned to his thoughts, thinking about the Captain.
Shortly after Zorin’s request for a sparring session, they had been called to the Doctor’s laboratory. It was the same as every day since Claude had been given his new room. Doc took details of his visions (he never told the truth), measurements, blood tests, observational information.
Whatever the Doc had planned for Claude, he was perfectly tight-lipped about it. He ignored all of Claude’s questions regarding the tests and blood samples he was taking.
After the examination came his own training. Truth be told, it was less training and more weapons practice. The Major had arranged for Claude to be trained to use the same weapons as all of the vampire soldiers. He was still to use his own gun in combat, but was to be familiarized with the German weapons in case the need arose.
He was escorted back to the range by Captain, given his gun and ammo, and told to lead a squad of vampires in their weapons exercises. Claude hefted the massive assault rifle with ease. It weighed half as much as his shotgun, so the weight was of little consequence. He turned to his squad, who listened with rapt attention. They were the same ten vampires who he led in Rio, and who regarded him with remarkable respect even though he was little more than dinner to most vampires.
“You’re all veterans. You know your weapons, so this is more training for me than you.” He gestured to the gun in his arms. “Standard-issue FG42 paratrooper’s assault rifle. Customized to be loaded from a 50-round drum. Fires full-metal-jacket ammo.”
So you Nazi pricks can kill innocent civilians again. He thought to himself. Claude sighed internally. He was still desperately hoping for a rescue, but as time went on, he knew that was going to be less and less likely. But there was a time for that line of thought, and it wasn’t now. Right now, like it or not, he had a job to do.
Claude loaded the gun, emptied it into the targets set up downrange. Firing in bursts like he was taught by his father and again by the sergeants at the Hellsing Manor. Every round hit center mass, accurately, no target escaped his fire. There was a smattering of applause behind him.
Don’t patronize me.
He knew it wasn’t just his squad watching him. The Captain had stood nearby, keeping an eye on him. Zorin Blitz stood, arms crossed, watching with a look Claude couldn’t quite identify. Was it indifference? Was she impressed? Even Schrodinger was perched nearby. He hated the attention, just wanting to fly under the radar. But he knew that would never happen.
Claude led the squad in several exercises, included concentrated fire, defiladed fire, covering fire. The works. They were fifty-year veterans of war, but it never hurt to sharpen up on the basics.
After nearly four hours, they concluded the exercise. Claude was, fittingly, exhausted. The human body wasn’t meant to shoulder and fire a rifle for that length of time. All ten vampires in his squad looked at each other with mild amusement as he had to call it off so much earlier than expected.
He feigned a smile. They disgusted him. Their fangs, their attitude, their smell of blood… Everything disgusted him. And yet he found himself drawn more to these people. Despite the trauma of the night in Rio, it had been an experience that he had gone through with all of them. He had gone through all of that and came out the other side with his sanity (mostly) intact. Behind his fake grin, he spoke.
“Yes, well, your scharführer-“ God above, saying his rank felt like acid on his lips, “- doesn’t have the luxury of being vampires like all of you. Try as I might, I still get tired.”
One of his soldiers, Klaus, piped up. “Perhaps ze Obersturmführers could remedy zat, ja?”
At the mention of her title, Claude immediately glanced to one of the two observing First Lieutenants. Zorin had a grimace on her face as though even the thought of drinking his blood disgusted her. Rip van Winkle looked remarkably flustered.
“Yes, well…” Claude cleared his throat. “Herr Major and Herr Doktor have other plans. I’m not privy to what those are. But I’m certain it doesn’t consist of me becoming a vampire.”
He bid his squad farewell and began to walk out of the training hall. The soldier turned to look at the Captain, who now strode alongside him into the outer corridor.
“So, Captain, might you be staying for dinner again?” Ever since his transfer into the new quarters, Claude had been accompanied by the Captain during meal time every day. The Captain never ate the same food he ate – Claude was almost certain the Captain subsisted on raw flesh and blood like the vampires around him – but nonetheless, the tall man sat across the table from Claude at every meal, lending his silent vigil to the eating soldier.
Captain nodded, closing his eyes briefly as he did. Claude gave him a soft smile. The towering individual was, perhaps with the exception of Schrodinger, the one man in this facility whom Claude did not wholeheartedly despise. The soldier actually quite enjoyed his Captain’s presence, hence his contentment with having the man as his chaperone.
And so they departed to Claude’s quarters. A selection of food was provided by some nameless peon, ordered by the Major to bring it to them.
Claude picked out a simple steak and potatoes. He wasn’t worried about the food, not tonight. Or today. “Dinner” was being served at 7:30 in the morning. His circadian rhythm had to be completely shifted in order to line up with the vampires around him. That wasn’t fun, but at least there was no outside sunlight to mess it up.
As he began to dig into the meal, Claude idly looked over at the Captain. The Captain was disassembling his enormous Mauser C96 pistols at the table, so his attention was preoccupied. He didn’t notice Claude’s stares. Claude’s stares as he beheld the Captain’s silvery hair. His dark red eyes, rapt with attention as his gloved hands tenderly dismantled the two guns with all the deftness of a clockmaker. And his coat… He could remember, vividly, the vision where he saw what lay underneath that greatcoat.
Claude nibbled softly on his lower lip. He had been feeling much more… Drawn to the Captain, ever since the night he returned from Rio. When the Captain held him close as the overwhelming sense of guilt threatened to crush his spirit for good.
“Captain…” Claude’s voice took the both of them by surprise. It felt so alien to break the silence between the two souls sitting at the table. The Captain looked up, his eyes meeting Claude’s for the briefest of moments before he angled them slightly away.
“Do you… Do you have a name, Captain?” He wasn’t quite sure what to make of the look in the Captain’s eyes. Claude quickly had to explain, lest he risk offending the other man. “I just… I’ve only been able to call you ‘Captain.’ I wanted to know if there’s something else I could call you. Captain is just so… Impersonal.”
Claude wasn’t aware he had set his hand on one of the Captain’s gloved hands until the taller male looked down at it.
“If you don’t want to tell me, you don’t have to. But I promise I’ll keep it to myself.”
There was a pause. It seemed to last an hour. It was probably about a minute or two. But the Captain carefully moved his free hand, index finger extended. Claude felt the cloth of the Captain’s gloved finger as it slowly traced a word onto the back of his own bare hand.
“H A N S”
The soldier wanted to melt in his seat. That name was so… So perfect. It fit the Captain so well. Claude smiled softly.
“Hans. That’s a wonderful name.”
That’s when he saw it, just barely, over the high collar of Hans’ greatcoat. That smile. And just like that, Claude’s heart nearly melted.
His hand closed tighter around Hans’ hand for but a moment before he let go. Claude cleared his throat, looking back to his dinner. He began to try and finish the food, hoping desperately it would quell the fire burning deep in his heart at the moment.
Please, God, let this man feel the same way.
There wasn’t a doubt in Claude’s mind that there might be some conflict. Millennium may be Nazis in name only, but there was no telling what personal beliefs Hans might have, hidden behind that silent visage. After a moment, Hans grabbed Claude’s free hand again.
“YOU AND I. WE ARE TWO OF A KIND, YES?”
“Two of a kind? How so?” Claude’s confusion was palpable.
“THE TWO OF US, WE ARE WEAPONS. GUNS TO BE FIRED BY HANDS OTHER THAN OUR OWN.”
“I… Yes. You’re not wrong, Hans. I’ve… I’ve felt that way for a long time, since before I was captured.”
“WE TWO GUNS CAN RELY ON EACH OTHER, YES? IF NOTHING ELSE, AT LEAST WE ARE WEAPONS TOGETHER.”
Claude could feel thick tears welling up in his eyes. His throat tightened, but he smiled. A genuine smile.
“Yes, Hans. At least we’ve got each other.”
Claude had long since finished his food. After a few minutes, Hans stood. The soldier knew his Captain had to leave eventually.
“Umm… Hans, wait. Before you go.”
The Captain turned to face him. He had walked up to the vastly taller man.
“I… Look, I’ve never really done this, but… I… Could you…” Before he could finish the sentence, Hans bent down, his lips meeting Claude’s. It was the slightest of brushes, scarcely a kiss, but the soldier could still feel the tender, surprising softness of his Captain’s lips in that briefest of moments.
With that, Hans straightened up, the same smile from earlier plastered across his face. He tipped his hat, a bid goodnight, before turning and exiting the room.
That kiss. That smile.
Claude was going to be stuck with those thoughts for a while.
——————————————————————————————-
Another week had passed before Claude was summoned into the Doctor’s laboratory. The room was abuzz with activity. All of the high-ranked officials in Millennium were present. Hans, Zorin, Rip, Schrodinger, Tubalcain, the Major, even the bean-counting benefactors, the old-school for-real Nazis who Claude rarely saw.
Claude was gestured to a chair highly reminiscent of a dentist’s chair. He sat obediently, and the Doctor produced an IV bag full of what looked like a dark, silvery fluid.
“Gentlemen!” He announced with a flourish. “Ze culmination of a month’s vork! Day und night I have vorked to reverse-engineer zese nanomachines provided by an ally of ours in ze Vatican.”
Nanomachines? Claude had heard of them. He had heard of them in science-fiction, had only relatively recently been affirmed of their existence after the fight with Father Anderson. But only that isolated incident. And now, before him, was an entire bag of the stuff.
The Doctor continued. “Zese have been fully reprogrammed to allow Herr Grey a degree of control of his precognitive abilities, in addition to ze physical und regenerative benefits.”
Control of his powers. Even the slightest bit of control. The thought echoed through Claude’s mind like a gunshot.
The Major opened his mouth to speak, undoubtedly some spiel about Claude’s powers and how they would be the ideal weapon of war. The soldier was having none of it. He interrupted.
“Do it. I don’t want to hear anything. If I can have any control over these visions, even the slightest, I want this.” He lifted his sleeve, volunteering an arm. The Major clapped his hands together.
“Ah! Such spirit! Zat’s vhat I like to see, Herr Grey! Alright, Doktor, you heard ze man!”
Doc grinned wickedly, producing a very long, high-gauge needle. All color drained from Claude’s face at the sight. Without a word, Hans walked over, grasping the hand on Claude’s other arm.
There was a murmur throughout the room. Schrodinger’s face lit up as he parroted something about how adorable the sight was. The Major spoke something to the effect of camaraderie among the troops. Claude could honestly hear almost nothing aside from his own heartbeat. His own heartbeat which became ever louder as the Doctor approached with that needle.
He couldn’t look away as the needle sank into the flesh of his upper arm. The liquid began to enter his system, pulsing through his veins with incredible speed. A tingle, then chill spread through his body. Slowly, over the course of nearly half an hour, the entire bag drained into his blood. There was a delay, of course there was a delay.
Everyone watched with bated breath. After a total of forty-five minutes, the nanomachines activated.
A thunderclap of energy rippled through Claude’s body, his back arching as he let out a shout. Every nerve ending in every square-centimeter of skin was on fire. Not burning with flame. Burning with energy. His mind was a beehive of activity, a hundred future events flashing through his brain and across his eyes. The soldier grabbed, hand squeezing vicelike on Hans’ own hand. Claude’s eyes squeezed shut, and he willed for it all to stop.
And just like that, it did. The visions came to a halt, replaced by his normal mental processes. His body seemed to cool down. He took a deep breath, held it for a beat, then let it out.
One more time.
A vision passed through his eyes.
A squad of Hellsing soldiers, complete with armor and air support, breaking into the facility to rescue him, with Alucard at their head. This was different than any vision he’d had since his capture. It didn’t come from a future where Claude didn’t exist to stop things. This was a future from this world, from his world.
Claude opened his eyes, the largest grin on his face.
He let go of Hans’ hand, flexing the muscles in his arms as he did. He felt so much stronger. So much more enlightened by the microscopic machines now fully incorporated into his bloodstream. Claude stood up, turning to Zorin.
“You know, First Lieutenant… I think I’ll take you up on that offer to spar.”
The room froze, but she returned his grin with an evil smirk of her own.
“Bring it on, human.”
He was going to give his body the mother of all test runs. And why shouldn’t he? Rescue was coming, at some undetermined point in the future, but it was coming for him.
Claude felt so much more potential running through his body, a level of confidence he’d never expected to have in this situation. He’d bide his time. He’d plan with Hans. And when the time came, he was going to show these Nazis what for.
OKAY, THIS BOY, THE PUREST GUY EVER IN A THEME PARK! He’s been so sequestered away from the world for the past few decades that he’s never had the opportunity to visit one!
Imagine his quiet awe at all the lights, the sights, the smells, the sounds. You can’t see it in his face but you can feel it in his eyes. He’s so excited to be there, it’s unreal. At first, the sheer number of people kind of overwhelm him, but having you nearby helps calm him down and stay relaxed.
Those rigged games that are always super hard to win and get a prize from? No problem for the Captain. You would be walking away with armfuls of stuffed animals if you let this guy play these games.
On the flip side, imagine winning a stuffed animal for him! The look in his eyes when you win him a giant stuffed bear or dog, a huge stuffed animal nearly as big as he is. Of course he doesn’t say anything, but you can just FEEL him thinking “HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO CARRY THIS?!”
The Captain is always slightly disappointed by the thrill rides. Never because they’re not thrilling, but because every single thrill ride is too short for him. The most massive rollercoasters are too short for the poor man, so expect to be riding a single ride half a dozen times or more until he’s decided he wants to move on.
Captain is in love with the food, no matter how unhealthy it may be. Fried foods, funnel cakes, hot dogs, cotton candy, it doesn’t matter to him as he continuously eats between rides.
No matter how many times you’ve taken him to a theme park, every visit is like the first visit in terms of his awe and love of all of the park around him. At least once a week you’d have to visit, that’s how much he loves it.
Imagine spending the entire day there, long enough that both of you are fully exhausted when you finally leave, and the sleepy puppy that is the Captain is struggling to keep his eyes open while up to his neck in stuffed animals that form that day’s haul of fluffiness.
All I’m gonna say is that I feel really bad about writing some parts of this chapter. If you thought I was done making Claude feel like crap, you’re sorely mistaken! 🙂
As always, please feel free to send any critiques, comments, or hate mail my way!
A shuffling noise in his cell made Claude open his eyes. He had fallen asleep, he supposed. Across the room, perched in a chair in much the same way as an actual cat, sat the catboy Schrodinger. Claude sat up slowly, wincing at the twinging in his bandaged chest (it still ached like a mother-). He rubbed his eyes, blinking. At some point in his sleep, his glasses had fallen to the floor. Oh well.
“Mm… Why are you here?” His mood was mildly improved from earlier; sleep tended to do that for him. He reached down and retrieved his glasses.
“I saw you vere sad earlier. I vanted to come und make sure you vere better.”
Claude yawned quite loudly. “I was sleeping.”
Schrodinger nodded slowly, then sat up straight, ears perking up. “I just vanted to tell you zat you don’t have to be sad!” He was suddenly next to Claude, perched in the exact same position on the bed. “You und I, ve are like brothers, ja?”
The catboy giggled. “Ve are ze two who break ze universe, don’t you see? Ze man who could see ze future, und ze boy who is everyvhere und novhere. Ve’d make ze perfect team, nein?”
Despite how he felt, Claude couldn’t help but be a little endeared by this. He managed a weak smile.
“I’m sure we would. But I, uh… I don’t have control of my powers. Things just kinda happen, y’know?”
“I vouldn’t be so sure. Ze Doktor seems convinced you could be made to. I saw him scribbling in his notebooks just a few hours ago. I haf not seen him so obsessed vis anything since he experimented on me!”
The soldier was more than a little worried about that. Whatever that mad scientist had in mind for him was definitely something he wanted no part of.
He had to get out of here.
That turned out to be easier said than done. Everything in Claude’s room seemed to be designed to his disadvantage. The bed was bolted to the floor, the toilet and sink made of metal and practically indestructible. All of the food finery was plastic. No shirt, just shorts that didn’t even have a string.
He had contact with another living being for less than an hour a day, the Doctor coming to change his bandages and ask questions.
It had been nearly eight days since his capture, and Claude hadn’t even been allowed to leave his room. It was starting to drive him mad. On top of that, he desperately needed a shower. He hadn’t even had the luxury of someone coming in to bring him something to eat, not since the day Zorin read his memories. The sink had been the only saving grace he still had, his shining steel oasis in the middle of a desert cell. He knew what this was, they were starving him out.
And it was working.
At the dawn of the ninth day, Claude curled up on his bed. He was desperate for even the slightest bite to eat. The Doctor had been continuing to run his tests as though nothing was wrong, and completely ignored Claude when the soldier brought up the topic of food.
As the thought began to run through his head of offering to pleasure the Doctor in exchange for food, the door opened. In stepped the Major, flanked by soldiers, with a sickening grin on his face.
Claude struggled to stand and face the Major, he was so weak from hunger. The Major only grinned wider.
“Ahh, still such a fighter. Zat’s good!” He began to pace around the small cell. “Nine days vithout food… I could scarcely imagine ze pain you must be feeling!”
Claude muttered. “I bet you couldn’t.”
The Major walked slowly around Claude in a circle, eyeing him up. “You vant to eat, yes?”
He gulped loudly, speaking quietly. “More than anything.”
“Follow me, zen, Herr Grey.” The Major turned and exited the room, and Claude slowly followed him. He was led into a room, roughly twice the size of his cell.
In it, around a table, stood the Captain and First Lieutenant Rip van Winkle, both dressed in what could charitably be considered civilian clothes. In the back stood First Lieutenant Zorin Blitz, dressed in her usual attire, along with four guards.
He was so hungry that the first thing that popped into Claude’s mind was the startling lack of food in the room. The Major turned to him.
“Vhile ve still have quite enough rations, our stocks of… Fresh food, have begun to run low. Our sadly human benefactors need to eat, as do you, Herr Grey. Our battalion must eat as vell, but zeir dietary needs are much more… Specific.”
“So, what, we run to the supermarket and grab some food, then hit up the local butcher for blood?”
There was a smattering of laughter.
Shit, I knew things weren’t going to be that easy.
The Major chuckled. “Oh, no no no! No, ze Captain, and Rip Van vill both be tending to ze needs of our human hosts und yourself. Obersturmführer Blitz und yourself vill be capturing a source of food for our vampire battalion. Fresh food, I might add.”
Claude’s heart sank. There was no way he meant animals. That only left… Oh no.
“You vill be provided a uniform und your veapons. Zis vill be a test of your loyalty to Millennium. If you do not assist in ze acquisition, or if you try to escape, or try to prevent us from accomplishing our goals, First Lieutenant Blitz is under strict orders to put you down like a mad dog.”
The First Lieutenant’s voice piped up from the back of the room. “Und I vill do it vis pleasure.”
“Now, Herr Grey! Suit up, und meet in ze hangar bay in tventy minutes! Oh, und Captain… Keep an eye on him.”
All of the remaining vampires exited the room. Only the Captain stayed behind.
Claude’s shotgun and pistol were on the table, as pristine as they had been when he was captured. Sitting beside it, neatly folded up, was a vicious mockery of his Hellsing uniform. The green coloring had been turned granite grey, all the patches that had been on his old uniform had been meticulously replicated using Bundeswehr and Waffen-SS patches and medals. Even his beret, once a bright red, was now dark black and proudly bearing the Nazi Reichsadler.
And it was all he was going to get as far as clothing.
Claude shyly avoided eye contact with the Captain as he stripped out of his shorts and began adorning himself with the new uniform. It wasn’t until the belt had been firmly snugged around his waist that Claude noticed the Captain only looked away when his own gaze moved in that direction.
What’s with him? Surely, he’s seen a guy getting dressed before.
He shrugged it off, continuing to dress. The new uniform was certainly more comfortable than the old one. Perhaps it was made by Hugo Boss. Now fully festooned in the Millennium regalia, he turned to his weapons. They looked identical. Even the ammo was the same, though mixed in with the silver shells were steel-cased ones, undoubtedly loaded with shot meant for humans.
By God, everything about this pissed him off.
The soldier, nonetheless, dutifully loaded up his guns and ammo. Captain walked over and took Claude’s wrist, beginning to write on the back of his hand.
“AS THEY SAY, LIE BACK AND THINK OF ENGLAND.”
“I’m not English… But I appreciate the sentiment. Thank you.”
Captain nodded. Together, they walked out to the hangar bay.
Claude was completely taken aback. An enormous zeppelin, its side emblazoned with the swastika and the words “Graf Zeppelin III.” It filled most of the hangar bay, but still stood tall enough that, snugly nestled underneath it was a convoy of four Mercedes-Benz lorries, each pulling a full-length 15-meter trailer. Two of the trailers were occupied by 10-man squads of vampires. The lead lorry merely had the two First Lieutenants. This was the one to which the Captain led Claude.
They were seated in chairs bolted to the floor of the trailer. Claude took the seat next to Rip van Winkle, while the Captain sat directly across from him.
Blitz gave him the briefing. “Ze Captain is in charge of procuring ammunition from our allied arms dealers in Rio de Janeiro. First Lieutenant Rip Van is in charge of acquiring comestibles in the same city. You und I vill be gazzering humans from ze Rocinha favela. Twenty kilometers from ze city, ve vill be svitching trucks. Ze Captain takes ze lead truck, Rip Van vill take ze second truck, I vill take ze third truck, und you vill be taking ze tailing truck. You und I, Herr Claude, vill be in charge of our own squads on zis mission.”
Her eyes narrowed, and she raised a finger before pointing it at Claude. “Ze Major is placing qvite a lot of trust in your abilities, UND your loyalty. If you do not pull your veight, or anything zat might compromise us, I promise you I vill personally eat you alive, piece by piece. Do not disappoint ze Major, und most importantly, don’t disappoint me, human.”
She spat out the word “human” with such venom, with all the same regard one might feel for the dog shit they’ve stepped in.
Claude merely looked up, into her eyes. He had a fresh fire in him, furious from the role he was being given, furious at Millennium for giving it to him, furious because there was nothing he could do about it.
“Look, Obersturmführer…” He could say her title with just as much poison. “I don’t wanna be here. You don’t want me here. I don’t give a shit, I’m not putting up with your attitude. You want me to prove I’m loyal, fine, I’ll do it. I may as well do what I’m told, right? I’ll lead my squad and I’ll accomplish the objective and you-“ He jabbed his finger in her direction. “Will stay out of my goddamn way!”
He was pretty sure he’d never seen anyone’s face get that red before. She opened her mouth to reply but the Captain merely put up his hand, shaking his head at her.
It was going to be a long ride to Rio.
——————————————————————————————-
It really was a long ride. They had been travelling for almost two hours now. Aside from Rip van Winkle’s humming, all four were in near-total silence. Claude hated it. The two hours had given him some time to think over things and lose some of his anger. Not all of it, but some.
He looked over at the humming, bespectacled woman to his left. He looked across to the silent Captain who had been glancing in his direction once or twice a minute for the past two hours. He looked at the fuming, tattooed woman who quietly sharpened her scythe, occasionally sending him hateful looks.
“So…” The soldier piped up, breaking the silence so unexpectedly it even caught him off guard. “What’s your ideal free time activity?”
The other three paused. Zorin sneered. “Vat ze fuck are you talking about?”
“C’mon, you have to have something you enjoy doing to help you unwind, Miss Hieroglyphics.”
Rip van Winkle was the only one to offer up, at first. “Oh! Zen mine vould be sitting in mein room, listening to Der Freischütz on ze record player!”
Zorin grumbled softly. “A pack of cigarettes, a liter of blood in a stein, und a set of veights to lift.”
The Captain motioned to mime an action, but Rip Van interrupted him. “Until recently, he’s spent his free time training! But now he seems to be very interested in ze Doktor’s vork, especially concerning…” The Captain quickly threw a spare stripper clip of ammo at her, shutting her up and causing the First Lieutenant to glare at him.
Zorin nodded her head at Claude. “Und vat about you, human?”
“Oh… A glass of apple cider, some cheese-and-crackers, and a copy of Game of Thrones, or Harry Potter. Especially if it’s raining outside, which, I live near London so… Every other day.”
They continued to talk like this for another hour, when the lorries came to a halt and he had to move into the trailing lorry. The vampires in this trailer were much more talkative, like soldiers at war. He stepped in slowly, noticing their looks of hunger.
Claude cleared his throat.
I don’t know if they can smell fear. Or anger. Or both. They probably can.
“I’m Herr Grey, and I’ll be your squad leader tonight. We’re under strict orders to capture your food sources for the next several months. Now, I may be a human, but I am NOT having any bullshit tonight! No feeding on anyone until we return to base, no killing anyone you don’t have to! If one of you blood-suckers steps out of line…” He gestured to the silver shells lining his bandolier. “I will put you down like a dog, understand?!”
The soldiers nodded, their looks of hunger turned to a sick look of respect. They all saluted with a “Sieg Heil!” Claude choked back the bile rising in his throat and took his seat.
——————————————————————————————-
Their raid into the favelas was a nightmare. The two lorries rolled in from separate ends of the Rocinha neighborhood, soldiers exiting and storming into the shanty houses like common criminals. One by one, they extracted men, women… Even children.
Every pocket of resistance to their actions was crushed accordingly, every individual with a gun dropped before they could even fire a shot. Claude led his squad as ordered, despite every fiber of his being screaming at him not to.
Filling the lorries took an hour, if that. Claude and Zorin’s squads combined had taken nearly four hundred people.
Except for the chairs the soldiers sat in, it was standing-room-only, with the terrified, screaming civilians crammed together like sardines in the pitch-black trailers.
For Claude, none of it felt real. It was as though the orders were being given by someone else, like he was just observing actions and events on a theater screen. Even as the lorries rumbled back to base, he felt like he was in a complete daze.
The screaming in the trailer gradually turned into quiet crying, whimpering, and praying. He wanted for all the world to just turn his gun on these people, end their suffering now so they wouldn’t have to deal with what would come later. But he knew the gesture would mean nothing, Millennium would just send out another convoy and procure another two hundred people. And he would be dead, with no way of getting back to Hellsing.
Their arrival was heralded with the trailer doors opening, and a cadre of soldiers shepherding the poor people to holding cells deep in the base.
Claude shambled out like a zombie. He couldn’t focus, even as the Major congratulated him with a little speech, a pat on the back, and an offer of a new room and food. He looked at the others, at Rip’s gleeful smile, at the Captain’s sympathetic gaze, and at Zorin, and her grudgingly approving look. A look like she might, potentially, have the slightest bit of respect for him. That look twisted his stomach in painful knots.
Even as he was led to his new room, sat before a veritable smorgasbord of delicious foods, he felt utterly detached from the world. He ate the smallest bite before his stomach felt so full. The Major and his guards left, and as the door clicked shut, Claude bolted for the room’s bathroom.
He inaugurated the toiled by vomiting, releasing all of the built-up guilt and self-hatred in one big mess. He kept going, over and over and over again, until he had nothing left to give. Claude collapsing into a fit of crying, so loud that he didn’t even hear the door open.
Claude felt the familiar presence behind him, but he couldn’t bring himself to say anything. The massively-tall, green coat-clad man crouched beside him, taking the still-crying soldier into his arms.
Claude didn’t think twice before wrapping his arms around the warm Captain, pulling him as tightly as he could. The Captain helped him to his feet, leading him back into the room.
The food left by the Major had grown cold. How long was he in the bathroom?
Captain gestured to a new addition to the table. A bottle of cider. He began writing on Claude’s back.
“I HAD RIP BUY SOME. I THOUGHT IT MIGHT HELP YOU FEEL BETTER.”
He didn’t really have a stomach for food, even after all nine days without food, and puking his guts out. But Claude felt he could force back a glass of the familiar apple nectar.
As he sat at the table, pouring a glass, he saw the Captain turn towards the door.
“Um… Wait, please don’t… I mean don’t go.”
The very tall man turned, a quizzical look on his face.
“I, uhh… This is a lot of cider. I couldn’t possibly drink it all by myself. Would you care to drink with me?”
Captain paused. Claude could see the slightest bit of red on his face, even past the high collar of his coat. After a moment or two, the Captain nodded and sat down beside him, filling his own glass.
(Wow, this update was a devil to write! I wish I could say this is the last we see of Angsty!Claude, but he’ll be back. There’s going to be plenty of more heartwarming moments but there’s one big moment I’ve got left in store that will break him just as bad, if not worse, than we’ve seen him. I promise I don’t hate him but I’m trying to keep the same dark tone as the source material. There WILL be a happy ending, though, I promise. Thank you for reading!)
The Rose-Clad Demon Doctor 