am slowly following in suit but I will forever adore this guy
Y A A S ❤
I may love Alucard besties, but damn I love it when someone gives Iscariot or Millennium some attention!! 💗💗💗
HAVE MORE
GOTTA LOVE THEM
I’ll take one of everything on the menu, plus one. ❤
@gingerkyuketsuki Here’s what I wrote for what you intended to be a shitpost! I may have written way too much but I don’t care! 😀
“You want me to what?”
Alucard thought he misunderstood. He had to have misheard, misinterpreted what his master was telling him. There was absolutely, certainly, 110% no way that she had just said that to him.
“I said, I’ve agreed to a proposal from the Iscariot organization. For the next week, you and the Father, Alexander Anderson, are going to be changing places.”
“And what, if I might ask, is the purpose of this… Endeavour?”
Sir Integra pushed up her glasses, picking up the sheaf of papers in front of her, clearly emblazoned with the wax seal of the Vatican. “It’s to…”
She let out an aggravated sigh. “To ‘teach mutual respect amongst the organizations, to allow our various operatives…’”
She pointed at Alucard. “’To experience each others’ roles and duties so that they may form a more proper understanding and mutual deference, for the sake of cooperation in the future.’”
The disgust emanating from his master was thick enough to be cut with a knife. Integra continued.
“These come signed and sealed from Pope Francis himself, signed in duplicate by Bishop Enrico Maxwell, and counter-signed and sealed by Queen Elizabeth and Sir Irons. Like it or not, you’re participating in this. You’ve been sworn in absentia that you are not to harm a single Iscariot operative. Anderson has been sworn to the same.”
Alucard moved to complain, but decided against it. He grinned, prompting a concerned look from Integra.
This could be fun.
It was not fun. Alucard found himself assuming not just Anderson’s roles, but his dress. He was forced into the same godawful priest’s uniform-jacket combo that the Paladin wore. All of the clothes had been sized for Anderson, so they fit, but barely. The waistline was entirely too big and the elbows on the jacket chafed. And he was told his hat had to stay at the Manor! The No-Life King, nearly 600 years old, most powerful being in the world, wasn’t even allowed to have his favorite hat as he assumed the priest’s position for a week.
And the duties he had… It wasn’t just the fun stuff, killing heretics and pagans in the name of the Holy Catholic Church.
Alucard also had to assist in running the day-to-day of St. Ferdinand’s Orphanage, including balancing finances, cleaning if necessary, and taking care of the orphans.
The orphans.
Alucard had been there for less than a day before the children began getting on his nerves. The adolescents were less irritating. They didn’t know the specifics of this exchange program, but they understood that this tall, raven-haired man was supposed to be Anderson’s replacement for a week, and they treated him with a mixture of respect for his priestly position, and fear because he’s a nearly seven-foot tall, quiet man whose eyes are just slightly off. He had a modicum of respect for the adolescent orphans, since they stayed out of his way.
But the younger children… The vampire prided himself, deservedly or not, on his patience. He didn’t typically have a problem with children. But these ones, they could certainly try his patience.
The first day, the main problem was their constant pestering. “Whewe’s Fathew Andewson?”
“Why are you so tall? Do you play basketball??”
“Your eyes are pretty! But scary!”
“The new priest scares me!”
“Can I have a piggyback ride?”
“I found this doggie out in the garden, can I keep it?” A raccoon, it was a fucking raccoon, no of course you can’t keep it!
The next couple of days, what irritated him was the childrens’ tendency to get into EVERYTHING.
Timothy somehow got a marble stuck in his nose. Nisha had been playing with rubberbands and had accidentally knocked over a vase, breaking it. Lilith (he savored the irony of an orphan in a Catholic orphanage bearing the name Lilith) had been playing with matches again (AGAIN?!) and started a small but manageable fire. Jack had been playing “army men” again and had gotten into an altercation with three other children who pretty much took care of the problem themselves.
All of which he had been forced to deal with.
The children also had a habit of pulling at the vampire’s hair, attempting to climb up his arms, requesting more piggyback rides because he was so tall and they could see everything from his shoulders!
Some of the more clueless adolescents had challenged him to a game of basketball, but wisely backed down when Alucard stood to his full height and could nearly reach the rim without jumping.
And the Orphanage’s finances! By the grace of whatever higher power might exist, Alucard swore he had never seen a more chaotic budget in his unlife. Constant fees for caterers, cleanup, salaries, maintenance, clothing budgets, medical bills, supply fees, the ASTOUNDING electricity and water bills, the list went on. And he hadn’t the slightest damn clue what he was doing, trying to go over that budget.
It was almost a relief to hear, four days into the exchange program, that he would be sent into the deepest part of the American South, under the supervision of agents Yumiko and Heinkel, to hunt down a group who attacked a cathedral. At least now Alucard could take out several days of pent-up frustration on whatever poor unfortunate souls made the mistake of pissing off the Catholic church.
Alucard could only hope the Paladin was having as awful a time himself.
He would’ve been very disappointed.
Sure, it was true that the Regenerator hated having to work alongside the Protestant Anglican Church who, under literally any other circumstances, would’ve been his sworn enemy. Certainly, he hated being removed from his uniform and placed in the too-tight red jacket and oversized red hat which he felt made him look ridiculous. And more than anything did he hate having to conduct business in the presence of the little blonde Draculina whom he wanted more than anything to carve with his bayonets and send her to God.
But other than that, it wasn’t that bad.
Training the Wild Geese was far simpler than helping to raise some of the little kids at the Orphanage. God bless their little souls, Anderson cared for them, but he sorely needed a break from some of their antics.
Conversing with Sir Integra and assisting her in her duties was not at all out-of-place from helping the higher-ups at the Orphanage.
The most welcome bit of familiarity was being sent out into the field to kill vampires and ghouls. Much to his joyful surprise, those duties didn’t change. Outside of the Manor, and in the field, he was allowed to resume his carving-up of the legions of Hell just like he preferred.
Anderson even learned a bit of respect for Seras, as he saw that despite her vampiric nature, she kept herself under extreme control and never succumbed to her natural bloodlust. He still wanted to carve out her heart with a knife, but now he’d do so with a knowing nod and the knowledge that perhaps her soul would find a teeny bit of salvation in the afterlife.
When the week ended, Anderson was more than respectful to those who had been his coworkers for the past seven days, regardless of how he still felt about all of them.
Alucard and the Vatican officials had arrived at the door. Integra could tell from the look on his face that the past 168 hours had not been kind to the vampire. He stood at his full height, looking directly into Anderson’s eyes.
Without so much as a “Hello” or a “How was your week” or a “Go fuck yourself,” Alucard grabbed the hat off the top of Anderson’s head before placing it on his own.
“My hat.” Was the only thing he had to say to the Paladin, who otherwise offered some statement to the effect of having a newfound respect for the vampire and the rest of the Hellsing Organization.
As the Papists departed, Alucard looked at his master, who stared up at him expectantly.
“Well, Alucard? How was it?”
“That… Human, is stronger than I’ve ever thought.”
Thank you for requesting this and talking through what kind of scenario you wanted in particular! I hope this is to your enjoyment!
Some days were… Harder than others. Not always for a reason. Sometimes you just felt like this.
Today had been absolutely miserable. Nothing happened. But the crushing emptiness, the sadness, the self-hatred. It was too much. You hadn’t even left your room, not even when one of the orphanage’s nuns came in to check on you. They understood when you felt this way, you had explained your depression to them before. And they were always quick to say a prayer for you.
Anderson, your love, was away on a mission.
You didn’t always feel this way when he was gone, but it always made things so much harder to deal with. He’d been gone for three days by now. Why now? Why couldn’t you hold on until he got back?
It was dark now. You lay curled up in your room in the staff building next to the orphanage. You hadn’t really bothered turning on any lights, you’d just slept most of the day away. You turned, looking at the little beside clock.
Half past nine at night. You hadn’t eaten all day, hadn’t had a drink of water either. Your throat hurt. Crying all day without a drop to drink will do that.
But you just… Couldn’t.
The handle to the bedroom door rattled, a key turning in the lock. It’s probably just one of the nuns, coming to check on you one last time before bed. You heard the knob turn, the door swinging open slowly. You turned to see who it was, to tell them everything’s okay and that you don’t need anything, but…
There he was. Your shining paladin, the light of the moon reflecting off of his glasses, standing in the doorway with a tray of food and several glasses of water.
“Anderson?” You muttered. You hadn’t realized your throat was this sore. “I didn’t know you were back.”
“Ah wasn’t due back fer anothe’ day, but Ah thou’ Ah’d… Hurry up.” He sets the tray on the mattress in front of you, crouching down next to your bed. “Tha sisters told me wha’ ye’ve been goin’ through today. Ah’m sorry Ah couldn’t be back sooner ta help.”
With that, he embraces you closely, gently running a hand through your hair. He starts praying quietly, as he always does when you’re having days like this. Asking for the light of the Lord to guide your path, to help you through this time of trial. It always helped, either from the prayer itself, or just hearing his lovely voice as he prays over you. You couldn’t help hugging him back. You really missed Anderson, always did whenever he went off to God-knows-where on duty to the Vatican.
But here he was, right now, his arms wrapped around you in a tight bear-hug as he continued to pray. After a few moments, he pulled away from the hug.
“Mah love, ye know Ah’ll always be here fer ye, don’t ye?”
You nodded. You knew he meant it, even though sometimes it was easy to forget that when you were having days like this.
“An’ Ah’ll do all in mah power as an agent o’ God to help ye feel better.” He hugged you tightly one more time, before planting a kiss on your forehead.
“Now, mah dear, please eat. Fer me. Ye haven’t had nary ae bit o’ food today.”
You thanked him, tucking into the meal he brought for you. It was your favorite, and always helped to make you feel a bit better when you were depressed.
The food was delicious, though your stomach still felt heavy. The relatively small meal still made you feel full. But you cleaned your plate, drained the several glasses of water. Anderson slid a chair beside your bed while you ate, and without a word stands up and moves the tray onto the end table next to the window.
As you lay back in bed, he continues to keep his loving vigil over you. He gently takes your hand as he knows you enjoy, and begins to hum a church hymn to help you sleep. You know he’s tired himself, but yet he still takes care to comfort you and make sure you’re okay.
While you begin to drift off to sleep, you quietly thanked God for giving you such a loving, adoring man to help you through this.
I’m opening requests again until 22/04/2018! I’m in a writing mood, so please feel free to send me Hellsing stuff! SFW or NSFW, but I reserve the right to turn down any offensive content (no non-con if it’s a NSFW request).
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.
So I wanted to do a thing with the Hellsing Fandom, and I imagined this post becoming a huge thread. I want as many people of the fandom to see this and have their hand at it! So, you can write some dialogue, a short story excerpt or do a drawing or comic of if you got suddenly transported into the Hellsing world.
BONUS if you get transported exactly from the place and whatever you’re doing at the time of reading this!
I’ll start you guys off with mine!
Just a moment ago, I was sure I was sitting on the sofa, typing up a post onto Tumblr…
There was a great, big shadow of a mausoleum of a building cast over my head. The wind blew strong as I found my way to my feet off the ground. I was still dressed in my t-shirt and tracksuits that I wore at home. The weather wasn’t kind, and I found myself holding my arms as I turned to inspect the area. I tried to keep calm, that was paramount.
Shadows continued to flicker, almost too fast for my eyes to register. Before I knew it, I heard the sound of a creature unlike anything I heard before, and arms grab me with astounding force.
“It would be better if you didn’t fight back. I only need to drink..”
I shut my eyes, knowing that I was most probably going to die without even knowing who my assailant was. Except, I didn’t and I heard a massive gun shot reverberating across the expanse of the area around me.
I opened my eyes to look up at an individual I only knew by one name.
He peered down at me, unsure of what to say.
“Please, don’t go getting yourself killed. Don’t humans know not to be out at this time of night?”
That’s right, it was Alucard, no doubt. What I needed to know was, how did I even get into the Hellsing world? That, and many questions, I hoped, would be answered.
Thought I’d go ahead and add my contribution because I love this idea!
I’m not gonna lie, I screamed. One minute I was there, the next I wasn’t. Pulled away from my computer, from the episode of Monk I was watching on TV. Away from reading my friend Medz’s post on Tumblr. It all happened so fast.
The next thing I remembered was the fall. Just a couple of feet, but I hit the ground and smacked my head on the ground.
“Und zat’s vhen I said… Vhat ze hell?!”
I groaned, rubbing my head, now complete with a splitting pain in it. I didn’t even want to open my eyes.
That’s when I smelled the food. The reeking stench of blood. I heard the German accents around me and the clicking of numerous guns that were doubtlessly pointed at me. I let out a ragged sigh. A chair scraped across the floor somewhere to my left.
“Who ze hell are you, und how did you get here?”
“Buddy…” I groaned, rubbing my head. “I’m asking myself the same question right now.”
I tried to open my eyes. The light was blinding at first, aggravating my headache further. I sat up, slowly. Still in my pajamas. But of course. Then I looked around me.
A massive dining table, lined on all sides by soldiers in the middle of eating. Eating blood, by the looks of it. Their uniforms… Oh… So that’s where I was. Hellsing.
And I was there. With Millennium.
My survival chances dropped low enough that I’m pretty sure I could actually hear them hitting rock bottom.
I turned to my right, standing up and gently pushing the long barrel of the Mauser pistol out of my face.
“Easy there, Tall Dark and Handsome.” I gave the werewolf a smirk. “At least buy me dinner before you threaten to kill me.” I was pretty sure that just pissed him off. Oh well. Worth a shot before I get eaten.
I turned to my left, to face the standing figure of the Major, face stained with barbecue sauce from the ribs in front of him. Heh. For once I was taller than someone.
“Look, Major, speaking fat guy to fat guy, you don’t have to worry about me. I’m no threat to you or this little outfit you got here. Far from it, y’know?”
I wasn’t exactly a smooth-talker. I just needed to keep him and his entourage from killing me long enough to figure out a way back home. Here’s hoping I could let them think I was useful enough to keep alive.
You guys make me feel like I’m a cinnamon roll or somethin’
I wonder what Alucard would think?
Gimme about an hour and I’ll write you something for that
I was not expecting this and now I’m excited
Thanks Will, you are the bestest!
:)))
Take a look-see of this and tell me what you think. I think I’ve got things pretty close, but see for yourself. 🙂
Alucard had been called to a meeting with his master, Sir Integra Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing. There was no sign of urgency in her voice. It wasn’t an emergency.
That meant there was a new recruit in the Hellsing Manor. She always called him to introduce himself to recruits; it softened the eventual blow of learning that everything they learned as children was wrong. Vampires and werewolves and boogeymen roamed the night and the monster under the bed was quite real. He grinned – this was his favorite part. The initial look of complete shock and utter derealization on their faces brought a good sense of satisfaction to the vampire.
He could hear them talking through the wall. Sir Integra’s strong voice, deep, her British accent heavy to the ears. A second voice, a higher pitch, a different accent, sounding very excited.
Alucard grinned to himself as, rather than take the door, he pressed against the wall, body phasing through it slowly. He emerged into Integra’s office, an evil smile plastered across his face. Sir Integra smirked at him, and the figure seated in the chair turned to face him as Integra looked over as well. He was half embedded in the wall.
“Ah, Master, you’ve called upon my services once again?” He was hamming it up on purpose to get a rise out of the newcomer. Her face, rather than a look of abject terror, lit up as though she were a child receiving a new puppy for her birthday. Her audible gasp was followed by a rapid burst of dialogue, something about how “cool” he was and how excited she was to meet someone like him.
Who is this woman? Where did she come from?
She was the new bookkeeper. To be taught to work alongside Walter and Sir Integra in managing the day-to-day life around the Hellsing Manor. Not directly involved in combat, like the others. She wasn’t a rescue, like that blonde boy. She was recruited, the best in her field at what she did. Sir Integra told her up front the nature of the Hellsing Organization and those that it fought, and this woman still took the job with a smile on her face and a spring in her step.
Medinah. That was her name, as she told it to him.
After the introductions concluded, she had been put to work at once. Her work was impeccable, no doubt about that. Alucard had expected as much, since it had been Sir Integra’s decision to hire her in the first place. That wasn’t what surprised him about the woman.
No, no, what surprised him was her immaculate personality. She was too… Nice, he felt, for the Hellsing Organization. He had never met someone so unshakeable in the face of the supernatural before. At the news of Alucard’s fight in Belgium, she welcomed him back with the same chipper smile as always, as though he hadn’t just returned from a battle that was otherwise a complete shitshow. She was always encouraging to the other agents, giving them words of support and spiritual upliftment that had never been felt around the Manor. She took the predictions of the blonde soldier in stride, assuaging his concerns with a statement that everything would turn out okay in the end. Even when they’d returned from Cheddar, the blonde Draculina wrapped in a blanket in Alucard’s arms, Medinah had greeted the newly-turned vampire as though she were just another human joining the ranks.
Medinah’s seeming inability to be fazed by even the bleakest, most dangerous situations was something that never occurred to the vampire to even be possible. Not for a human. Humans were supposed to be either frightened beyond the capacity for rational thought, or so angry and vengeful that they would lay down their lives to fight someone such as himself. And yet, before him, was a human who was neither of those things.
It fascinated Alucard. She had become a pillar of the morale of the Hellsing Organization, her frequent support, encouragement, and camaraderie with the other agents made her indispensable as an employee. He found himself keeping a close proximity to this woman, if anything out of a sense of curiosity. He had long since given up trying to catch her in a bad mood or feeling depressed, it simply wasn’t going to happen.
Alucard resolved to keep an eye her, to try and understand her unwavering spirit for himself. Perhaps there was something this human had to teach him that he, in all his nearly 600 years of life, still had yet to learn.
The Rose-Clad Demon Doctor 