Tag: Integra

herushingu:

Arthur, dramatically: See, Integra, vampires are just like children…

Child Integra: Like me? So I could date one?

Arthur: What?? No-!! Just… listen to this. I slaved over this monologue draft for two days.

Arthur, dramatically: Vampires are always in pain, so much that they want to die but cant, so they’re crying inside…

Child Integra: That’s so sad! I wanna comfort and hug and date a vampire and make their sads go away!

Arthur: I

Arthur: WHAT

Arthur: NO

Arthur: DAMMIT

image

Integra’s saying what we’re all thinking…

Here’s a short something based on the dream I had. I’d like to call it the Wallachia League AU. Just something to test if I could make it work. Hope you all enjoy! (I’ll also reblog this in the morning since it’s so late right now).

My name is Claude Grey. It was the 22nd of April, 2032.

I had to bring her coffee. That would be the seventh time that day.

        To be fair, it has been a really long day. A very long day. Her Majesty’s Loyal Peacekeeper, Sir Integra Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing, had been overseeing one of the largest anti-terrorism crackdowns in half a decade.

        Four werewolf dens in London’s “Full Moon District” had been raided. Producing, amongst other things, forty illegal assault weapons fully-loaded with silver ammunition, a cache of explosives, illegal drugs, illegal anti-surveillance hardware, plans of attack, stakes, crosses. Including their leader, a prodigiously-tall, silver-haired and red-eyed individual who refused to speak no matter the pressure we put on him.

        I’d seen him before, both in and out of work, but I politely held my tongue at the meeting when he and his cohorts were paraded in front of the precinct. The display was all part of the farcical dog-and-pony show to make it look like the city of London, capitol of His Majesty’s great United Kingdom, actually gave two shits about the Mysticals living within her borders. Realistically speaking, these men would be quietly released in the dead of the night in about a month, sans their illegal armaments, and allowed to continue whatever they had planned so long as they don’t get caught and they don’t involve humans.

        Mysticals, of course, being the name collectively assigned by the governments of the United Nations forty years ago to refer to any and all individuals who would formerly be considered supernatural. It included, amongst others, vampires, werewolves, wraiths, zombies, fae, dryads, naiads, centaurs, kappas, djinn, selkies, cyclopes, banshees, and dullahans.

        The majority of normal humans don’t give a damn about any of them, or they favor the more “peaceful” species, the ones who don’t traditionally require feeding on humans.

        Vampires, werewolves, and all of the more “dangerous” ones in the public eye?

        They get spat on. Hated. Hunted.

        Y’know, vampires and werewolves aren’t legally allowed within two kilometers of London’s city center? And that vampire nightclubs and werewolf dens are statistically four times as likely to come under surprise inspection as any other Mystical hangout? Or that murders involving only Mysticals don’t get investigated?

        And it’s not just the United Kingdom, it’s the same everywhere, save for the countries further north. The U.S., Germany, South America. Russia’s the worst.

        Sir Integra is more level-headed than most. All she wants to do is make sure nobody blows anything up.

        So here I was, at nearly midnight, bringing coffee to a woman who’s been running off a mixture of caffeine and sheer force of will for nearly five days. The Loyal Assistant Watchdog to His Majesty’s Loyal Peacekeeper. That’s what they call me. I feel some of the respect people reserve for Sir Integra got rubbed off on me by association.

        I set the cup down on her desk, keeping a cup in my own hands. I had offered to stay behind to fill out paperwork as usual, so my day was running just as long as her own.

        “Here you are, Sir. Yemeni, two-“ I started, but she interrupted me.

        “Yes, yes, two sugars, two spoons of cream, like always. Thank you, Mr. Grey.”

        I nodded dutifully. “Sorry for the interruption, sir. I’ll get back to work.”

        And I had to. There were three three-inch-thick stacks of paperwork on my desk, only half of which had actually been completed. It was all the same paperwork, to be filled in triplicate. One hand-filled copy to be kept on-site, one hand-filled copy to be sent out to His Majesty’s government, and one hand-filled copy to be sent to the headquarters of the Royal Mail Service to be copied and distributed nationwide to all departments of the Royal Counter Mystical Terrorism Service.

        I normally listened to music when I had this much work to do, but I knew Sir Integra would take offense to that. Especially seeing as it was just us here, that evening. Any movement I made out of line would be objected to, and I hoped for a promotion in the future, so I couldn’t afford to have any blemishes on my record.

        Then my phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled the thin, encased rectangle from my pocket, as slyly as possible, to see who’s bothering me. The name on the screen catches my eye.

        “Evangeline.”

        “Hm?” Sir Integra looked up from her desk. I realized I said the name out loud. “What was that, Mr. Grey?”

        “It’s a phone call, sir. My, uhhh… My girlfriend. I have to take this.”

        She visibly grimaced. “Fine, Mr. Grey. But I’ll need you to return to work the second you’re done, understood?”

        “Understood, sir.”

        I made my way out into the precinct’s hallway, away from prying ears. I answered the call, keeping my voice low.

        “Look, I’ll have to make it quick. Now what reason could you possibly have for calling me right now?”

        “Is that any way to talk to your girlfriend, Claude?” Her tone of voice was dripping with sarcasm. Her tendency to find things like that out was starting to make me nervous.

        “Okay, ‘Evangeline,’ what’s wrong?”

        She giggled softly behind the phone. “I just wanted to say sorry ahead of time, Claudey-waudey~!”

        My eyes went wide. I growled into the phone. “The fuck did you do?!”

        “You’ll find out soon enough~!” Her singsong-y voice was driving me insane. “I am sorry about all that paperwork, though.”

        “Ugh.” I hung up. The second I did, Sir Integra called me back into her office.

        Plastered all over the television was news about an attack.

        God DAMMIT.

        The Wallachian League, as they called themselves. The newest radical pro-vampire group in the country. They’d made themselves a nuisance for the past couple of years. Graffiti, hacking attempts, distributing their radical fliers amongst the various groups in London and the rest of the UK. Never had they escalated this far.

        A flaming dump truck had been sent into a house in Yorkshire. Not just any house, but the house of a Member of Parliament who was vocally anti-Mystical. The MP and his wife and children had burned alive in their beds.

        “The Wallachian League is claiming full responsibility for this.” Integra talked after minutes of silence. I sigh softly.

        “They say their leader is Dracula himself.”

        “That’s what every vampire group claims. First it was the Tepes Union, then it was the Fangs of Freedom, then it was Count-down to Equality, the ‘Royal Vampiric Rebels,’ even the… Ugh… Vita-Vegan-Vampires. More likely it’s just some overblown narcissistic vampire who sees himself as Drac’s gift to the world.”

        Things were real quiet. For about two weeks.

        Then we got the news. Somehow, someone had gotten a hold of information that the Wallachian League was planning to bomb one or more of the trains leading into one of the U.K.’s power plants. Nobody was sure which one. If it was one of the coal or biomass trains, it would start one hell of a big fire. If it was one of the nuclear trains… I sincerely hoped it wouldn’t be.

        I snuck away to the alley behind the precinct. I had a phone call to make.

        “Evangeline?” I spoke into the phone.

        “Finally worried, Claudey-waudey~?”

        “I know you’ve all been talking about this, but you’re actually going to go through with it?”

        Her voice suddenly became fully serious. The most serious I’ve ever heard her.

        “Why wouldn’t we? You know we’ve got a message to send to them. Vampires aren’t going to let humans kick us around any longer.”

        “No, it’s not that at all. Look, I know you and Lucy can hold your own, just… Please be careful, okay?”

        “The job’s done. We set it up a while ago. I’d be more worried about yourself if I were you.”

        “Wh… Fuck you say?”

        “’Lucy’ found out earlier. Peregrin told us. The Royals have been monitoring all communication in and out of the Service for a long time. They know the both of you have been keeping the heat off of us.”

        “They… They know I’ve been helping you?”

        A different voice came onto the phone. Much deeper, far more serious.

        “Yes. We’ve already extracted Peregrin from Nottinghamshire earlier today. We’re coming to get you. It’s not safe there anymore. Don’t walk. Run.”

        I could hear shouting from inside the precinct. It seemed my phone call at such an inopportune time confirmed their suspicions. I had to go.

        My car wasn’t far away, but I knew it wasn’t going to work. Parked in the small car park under the precinct, they’d lock it down before I could even get in the vehicle. I had to beat a retreat on foot.

        Well, not really a retreat.

        The moment those same shouting voices exited the building, I broke into a sprint. The fastest, nastiest sprint I’ve ever managed in my life. Sir Integra’s voice broke out amongst the crowd.

        “Grey!” Gunshots punctuated her words. “Grey, you traitorous bastard!” More gunshots. “Don’t you run!”

        That wasn’t like her. My “betrayal” had to have seriously pissed her off for the normally-calm woman to just start shooting.

        I suddenly felt a force, like somebody had kicked me in the back, shoving me to the ground. It only stalled me for a second before I was back up and moving again.

        Dodge to the left, around the bollards and cars, under signs and ladders. Bob here, weave there. Use pedestrians as cover. They’re British, they’re not going to try and stop me.

        Every so often I had to stop and let out a few vicious coughs, which I attributed to just being so unaccustomed to moving that fast for any real length of time.

        And I swear, I had to have set some sort of record for on-foot speed. There’s no way I didn’t. Sticking to the back alleyways, I managed to get out of Central London in just a few minutes, still trying to hide from the authorities. But it was getting harder to move, I just couldn’t catch my breath. As I stopped behind a skip, somewhere in one of London’s more run-down areas, I figured out why.

        Investigating the strange, warm wetness running down my back, I moved my hand there. A thick, viscous wetness.

        “Oh ssssssshhhhfuck…”

        When my hand ran up, and felt the sources, I had to bite back a scream as immense pain shot through my body.

        “No… No, no, no… Nonononofucknonono…”

        Three bullet holes. One perfectly on the right side of my body. Right in my lung. The others in random spots in my back. They had scarcely missed my spine, but who knows what poor organs they had pierced. No exit wounds. I started coughing again, mixed with a choked sob or two.

        I couldn’t die here. I just couldn’t. But I also couldn’t risk moving, not with a bullet in my lung and two more god-knows-where.

        More footsteps. Coming closer. There was a soft gasp from a very familiar voice, and a low grunt from another familiar voice.

        I didn’t have to look up to know who it was.

        “Hey, Evan… Sorry. Hey, Seras. Hey, Alucard. I got, uhh… I got a bit messed up, I’m sorry to say.” I let out a pained chuckle. It hurt to laugh.

        To be perfectly honest, I couldn’t hear what they talked about as they conversed amongst themselves. I could vaguely hear Seras’ question, but heard it better once she grabbed my shoulders to demand my attention.

        “I said…” She repeated. “Are. You. A virgin?”

        “What? Oh…” I grumbled softly. “Yeah, of course I am. I’m scarce two years out of uni. Had no time for any of that nonsense.”

        I couldn’t really think straight at the time. Blood loss will do that to a person.

        Alucard piped up, his baritone voice grabbing my attention more easily.

        “It seems you have a choice, then…” He spoke. “Death. Or undeath.”

        Looking up at him, I spoke back. “Something about a Robert Frost poem, right? Two roads diverged in a wood, I took the one less traveled, that’s made all the difference?” I pushed my cracked glasses up on my nose. “I’ll take the road less traveled if that means I get to wake up again, tomorrow.”

        The decision made, they nodded. I felt a pair of glove-covered hands grasp my head and neck, watched through the corner of my eye as Seras opened her fang-filled maw. The last thing I remembered of that day was the sensation of her fangs clamping down on my neck.

  But I woke up again, the next night.

@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.”

Claude x Pip Fluff Headcanons please!

This made me super happy to write. I’m so glad you like Claude enough to request stuff for him and Pip! 

If Claude and Pip were together, Claude would absolutely be all about his new boyfriend all the time. Even during their patrol duties in the Manor, Claude would practically beg Integra to schedule his patrols in conjunction with Pip’s. If one or the other has to be sent out on a mission, Claude volunteers to tag along for “support” (really he just wants to protect the perfectly-capable Pip).

Notably, Seras thinks it’s absolutely adorable how hard Claude was crushing on Pip when they first met, and acts sort of like an older sister with regards to their relationship. Integra’s fascinated by their reciprocal attraction, but supports it both because she (to other people) thinks that kind of comradery will do wonders for their fighting capacity, and because she (privately) is glad to see the blonde soldier happy because she still blames herself for the circumstances leading to his family’s demise.

Pip is completely unaccustomed to this kind of attention from anybody. It would definitely take some getting used to, as he’s never had experience with somebody who so eagerly fawns over him and wants to be with him every minute of the day. It flatters him tremendously, he’s just not used to it.

It’s also Claude’s first relationship with anyone, even at almost 22 years old, so he’s super awkward all the time. He’s always taking pictures with or of Monsieur Bernadotte and showing them to people.

I headcanon that it wouldn’t be Pip’s first relationship, but would certainly be his first one with another guy. He’s every bit as out of his element as Claude is, but he tries to hide his awkwardness by being super smooth and making it seem like he’s always got everything under control, with his suave Frenchness. More than once he’d have to turn away to hide his blushes as Claude hits him with a compliment out of nowhere.

They’d be very good at balancing each other out. Pip’s the more realistic, worldly, well-traveled, boisterous, experienced mercenary with unequalled skill in wordplay and talking to his partners. Claude’s the fairly sheltered, quiet, anxious, nervous vampire-hunting soldier who can see a broad-strokes version of the future.

Claude is O B S E S S E D with Pip’s hair. He’s always playing with it, running his fingers through it, even gently toying with Pip’s braid when they’re in the hallway together. Claude always asks the mercenary to teach him how to braid his own hair, and offers to braid it for Pip after he learns how.

Kisses between the two are even more awkward than their normal interactions. Claude is a full head shorter than Pip, so the mercenary always has to lean down to some degree if Claude’s gonna kiss him or vice-versa.

Our short little soldier is also incredibly protective of Pip. Since Claude can see some future events, anything that has a possibility of leading to Pip’s harm means he’ll do anything he can to prevent it from happening. Pip doesn’t really understand this for the first couple of months, so he’s frequently confused when, before being sent on an otherwise-routine mission, he’s getting accompanied by Claude and a pair of soldiers from his squadron.

They’re also the perfect teachers for each other. Pip teaches Claude French, and all sorts of information about locales and cultures from across the world that he’s never been able to experience. Claude teaches the mercenary more simple things like cooking, how to fight supernatural creatures, and all sorts of little known facts about mythological beings that he only knows because Hellsing’s had to deal with them in the past.

( @herushingu gonna tag you in this cuz you seemed to like Claude)

Things you think each Hellsing and Iscariot Member would like about me? XD

I understand you might have been joking, but you’ve been such a good friend since I met you that I couldn’t resist answering this one first.

Integra:

Definitely your honesty and genuine personality. You seem like someone she could trust which is something she needs in her life.

Alucard:

Respects your resolve. Your unwillingness to give up and embracing of whatever life gives you is impressive to him.

Seras:

Loves your chipper attitude and politeness, you remind her of herself.

Walter:

Respects the way you help and care for others, reminds him of the person he knows he should be.

Pip:

Wholeheartedly enjoys your sense of adventure, which meshes with the worldliness of a traveling mercenary like himself.

Father Anderson:

Is enamored by your spirituality and seeming willingness to consult or work with a higher power for support in your life.

Enrico Maxwell:

Jealous of the self-confidence you have, aspires to having that level of self-belief without others worshipping him.

Heinkel:

Admires your fighting spirit, like Alucard, she highly respects your refusal to submit to unfortunate circumstances.

Yumiko:

She likes your hair.

Haha good stuff here. Can I request jealousy headcanons for Hellsing?

These were surprisingly tough to write, these are headcanons I hadn’t really thought of before today. Hope you enjoy!

Alucard:

Is probably the most overtly, aggressively jealous of the Hellsing members. If he feels like his S/O is looking elsewhere, true or not, he’ll be sure to reassert himself to them. Especially possessive, frequently reminds his S/O that they are his, and he’s theirs, even if this causes confusion when they don’t understand he’s jealous.

Integra:

Very passive-aggressive. Would probably order extra surveillance on her S/O, just to keep eyes on them, but nothing too intrusive. However, she’d probably realize when she’s gone too far and would have the state of mind to sit her S/O down and explain her feelings to try and get a grasp of how they really feel.

Seras:

Quiet, sad. Likely has constant thoughts that her S/O changed their minds about being with her, not wanting to be with a vampire that could kill them so easily. Probably constantly worried about accidentally doing something that would scare away her S/O, so every time she has to drink blood or fight, she’d be desperate to ensure that they’re somewhere they can’t see her. Wouldn’t confront her partner or talk about how she feels, instead she would probably internalize everything excessively.

Walter:

His expression of jealousy depends on who he feels his partner is interested in. If he feels he’s losing his partner to a fellow human, he would likely express a similar internalized anxiety to Seras; feeling that his partner wants someone younger than him, that they’re not really interested in someone as old as he is, whether it’s true or not. If he feels like he’s losing them to a being such as Alucard, he would become very aggressive and competitive, deadset on besting this being in a fight to prove to his S/O that he’s really the one for them, not anyone else.

Pip:

Likely highly disappointed if he feels like his partner is looking to someone else. Would try very hard to keep them with him, including all sorts of romantic gestures that would seem out-of-nowhere to his S/O who’s clueless of his feelings. He fully well understands that things like this happen, but he really doesn’t want to lose his S/O, so he’ll do everything in his power to prove his love to them in the hopes they won’t leave.

Hellsing Fic Prototype Part 4

the-rose-clad-demon-doctor:

So, this is probably going to be the last update for a few days. Writing this chapter kicked my ass and, apart from a few plot points, I’m totally unsure of how to continue at the moment. I’ll probably be working on Part 5 sporadically throughout the week but hopefully I’ll have it up by Friday or Saturday.

Keep reading

I’m not normally the kind of person to reblog my own stuff, but I’m actually really proud of some parts of this chapter.

Hellsing: Forest Fire Part 4

So, this is probably going to be the last update for a few days. Writing this chapter kicked my ass and, apart from a few plot points, I’m totally unsure of how to continue at the moment. I’ll probably be working on Part 5 sporadically throughout the week but hopefully I’ll have it up by Friday or Saturday.

Sunday morning. The Hellsing Organization and Wild Geese had been at full combat readiness for nearly two weeks. Full combat readiness meant constant patrols, each patrol shift pulling more than twelve hours constantly on watch. It was wearing on everyone. Normal humans simply weren’t meant to keep vigilant and alert for that kind of time each day.

        It was especially wearing on Claude. He hadn’t had an opportunity to really talk with Pip since their previous interaction. “One night zis week” got quickly pushed back to “Possibly next week.”

        More worrying to the blonde soldier, as he wandered the halls, was the effect the whole situation was having on Sir Integra. It had been at his urging that she hired the Wild Geese and pushed to fortify Hellsing Manor for what could be a siege situation. He had already passed by her door to hear her saying that she shouldn’t have listened to him. Claude knew it was just the stress, but that still stung.

        Which is why it almost came as a relief when, nearly sixteen days since the Wild Geese arrived, a spotter on the roof saw the buses pulling up at the front of the manor.

        Claude assumed his position in the ground floor. The mercenaries had taken positions up on the second storey, defiladed through the windows, with heavy machine gun nests set up at three points. The Hellsing troops had been spread throughout the manor, and Sir Integra and Walter took refuge in the basement.

        There was a brief moment of anticipation as two tall, lanky, very differently-dressed individuals walked up to the gatehouse, exchanging a brief word with the guards before opening fire.

        The whole world seemed to pause, as if taking a breath. Suddenly, it was like the gates of Hell itself opened up. Nearly a hundred guns throughout the mansion opened fire. The two men at the gates jumped, taken by surprise. They moved faster than anyone could possibly keep track of, scattering and moving out of the firing arcs of the mercenaries on the upper levels.

The buses accelerated, making a charge for the front door, tires tearing deep tracks in the ground. One of the buses suddenly split in half, torn to a hundred thousand pieces by an explosion as it rolled over an anti-tank mine. The remaining three buses slammed into the front façade of the mansion, breaking through the walls and sending soldiers scattering.

More explosions as the doors on the buses opened, spilling forth soldiers replete with riot shields, all crudely labeled with “Boo doo, people murder people.” The Hellsing soldiers hid behind barriers, but still found themselves falling under the crushing advance of the armored ghouls.

Squad 17 had been split across the first floor, not one member was within easy reach of each other. Claude had the good fortune to be placed near the stairwell, a half-dozen men and women under his direct order.

The radio on his hip crackled to life.

“This is Belmont, in temporary command of Squad 6! We’re falling back to the Southeast stairwell! All troops, masks on! Thunder Children, load your guns for area denial!”

Claude looked around as everyone around him snapped on simple painter’s breathers and goggles. “Area denial.”

The Karmina shotguns were of a large enough bore to launch custom grenades. These had been designed by Alucard and Walter in a joint venture to give humans weapons to make life very unpleasant for vampires and ghouls. A frangible outer shell made out of cold iron, boasting a very light explosive charge. The real meat of the grenades was their incredibly finely-powdered silver, each individual speck light enough to float on the softest breeze. Each grenade contained several hundred grams of this powdered silver.

As Squad 6 rounded the corner in full retreat, pursued by a charging formation of ghouls, Claude dutifully shouldered his gun and fired over the heads of his comrades-in-arms. The grenade rounds kicked more than usual, so his gun knocked the hell out of his shoulder. Its explosive projectile sailed high, smacking into the shield of one ghoul before bursting open in a flash of light.

It suddenly became much harder to see in the hallway as a million rays of light were reflected by the particulate silver floating in the air. The ghouls, clearly newly-turned, continued to breathe instinctively. That was their mistake, as they caught lungs full of powdered silver. As their lungs screamed in pain, their skin blistering from exposure to the precious metal, some dropped their shields. Some dropped their guns. All of the ghouls seized in pain. A lung full of silver wouldn’t be enough to kill a vampire, not even a ghoul, but it distracted them. Which was exactly what was necessary, as the Hellsing soldiers ripped the small crowd apart with concentrated fire.

The soldiers in that small hallway let out a cheer, but it was short-lived. The other sides of the Manor remained unsecured, a fact they were painfully reminded of as another member of Squad 17 called out over the radio that Squads 2 and 8 were wiped out.

One of the two lanky bastards from before the attack had broken in through an uncovered window in the back of the mansion and caught the two groups by surprise. His other tall associate had met up and charged together into the lower levels before splitting up again.

Integra, dead. Seras, dead. Alucard unable to save them. Pip dead. Claude unable to save him.

Claude gripped at his head, grabbing his radio, fury running through every vein in his body. He keyed the channel for the rest of the radios they used.

“This is… This is Claude Grey to all Hellsing soldiers and the Wild Geese mercenaries. Everyone on the second storey secure the stairwells at all costs! Don’t let any of those bastards up there! Level the fuckin’ stairwells with C4 if you have to! All forces on the first storey and below, do whatever you can to get to the basement! They’re aiming for Sir Integra!”

They’d probably be fine. But was he really going to risk it? He had a dinner date with Monsieur Bernadotte to look forward to. Integra was like a mother to him. Seras almost like a sister already.

I’ll be damned if some vampire asshole’s gonna take everything away from me again.

Everything had transpired over the course of a few seconds. Before anybody else had a chance to react to what he said, Claude bolted for the stairwell and stormed downstairs. Abandoning his command like this would earn him a royal chewing-out later, but he didn’t care. He knew the basement was shielded against radio transmissions. Even if Integra had a radio, she never would’ve heard what he said. He had to get there first, and one man could move a hell of a lot faster than seven.

The basement level of the Hellsing Manor was a labyrinth the likes of which would have made King Minos green with envy. It sprawled much farther out and much deeper than the already palatial mansion sitting aboveground. Twisting tunnels which doubled back, dozens of dead ends, fake doors, electronic shielding, all designed to hide the lowest dungeons and the deepest, darkest secrets of Hellsing and the Council of Twelve.

It was also where the vampire Alucard made his home, meaning it was somewhere Claude Grey rarely ventured.

He probably knew as much about the basement level as the vampires now trying to navigate their way to find Sir Integra.

Every corner had the potential to put him face-to-face with a being much more powerful than he was, much faster than he was, far harder to kill than he was.

He wasn’t particularly scared, not really. Dying was something he hadn’t been scared of in years. At the end of the day, Claude knew he was expendable. The Hellsing Organization would move on if he died, but Sir Integra was vital to their survival.

Claude was also fairly sure he was lost. Every corridor in the basement looked the same.

Voices came from the hallway to his left. The soldier hugged the wall and listened closely.

“You dumbass! Those cocksuckers were waiting for us and you knew it, didn’t you?!” How was he communicating with someone? That shouldn’t be possible. “I don’t give a shit what he told you or not! We walked into a trap you kraut fuck!”

Kraut?

Claude’s attention was taken as he heard further gunshots from down the hall to his right. That… That had to be where Integra was. He pushed away from the wall, breaking into a dead run, not caring about the noise he was making.

“Oh shit… Hey, come back here, asshole!”

Claude could hear the man behind him, footsteps moving far too fast for him to outrun. He reached to his battledress, grabbing a grenade. A flashbang. Just something to use as a distraction.

Claude pulled the pin, hearing the footsteps getting closer. After less than a second, he threw the grenade behind him and covered his ears. There was a tremendous BANG, amplified by the walls of the basement. It rattled every bone in his body, even shook his teeth. Even after covering his ears, they rang fiercely, he could scarcely hear.

A door at the end of the hallway stood open, and Claude could see the white-suited man from earlier seated against the wall, bloodied. The man turned to look at Claude, chest heaving from multiple bullet wounds. Alucard still stood, holding a gun aimed at the seated individual. He raised a second gun that Claude had never seen before. Under the ringing in his brain he could hear the vampire yelling.

“Get down!”

Claude dove for the floor, landing awkwardly on his gun. Oof. That was gonna bruise later.

There were further gunshots, though they barely registered through his already weakened hearing. He felt an impact as the vampire chasing him fell to the ground and slid along the floor.

The soldier panted, out of breath from the sprint. He clambered to his feet and trained the Karmina shotgun on the black tracksuited vampire on the ground.

“H… How’s it feel… Dickhead?”

Mr. White Suit turned, grunting. He coughed, blood spattering from his mouth.

“Jan… You should have left when I told you to…”

“Urgh… Sorry, big bro… Wasn’t gonna let you have all the fun. I wanted to take at least a few more of these assholes with us as payment for all the trouble.” Jan looked up at Alucard, and Integra as she emerged from the room behind him. “How’d you… Ungh… How’d you bitches know we were coming?”

“That’d be me.” Claude spoke, feeling vindictive. He stamped his foot on the bullet wound in Jan’s leg, prompting him to shout. “I heard you talking to your boss. Called him kraut?” He twisted his foot, digging in harder. “Let him know, it doesn’t matter what he does. I’ll see it coming. The Hellsing Organization will never let you win, whoever you are.”

Claude got a strange feeling as he said that. The little voice in the back of his head screamed at him. Jan laughed wickedly.

“Oh, trust me. He knows now.” The vampire sat up, flipping off Alucard and Integra. “He’s been listening to this entire conversation!”

Oh shit. DEFINITELY should not have said that.

“I’ll bet you wanna know who sent us, then! It was…” There was a flash of heat, catching everyone off guard as Jan and his brother erupted in flames. “M I L L E N N I U M…”

There was practically a chorus of “Millennium?” from Claude and Integra. Questions fresh in their heads, they emerged from the basement to find the ghoul army neatly cleaned up. Seras had left the basement from another stairwell as the two brothers went down, and began cleaning up the leftovers of their forces.

Hellsing had, despite their readiness, taken fierce casualties. Twenty-six killed, nearly forty injured, along with eight injured Wild Geese. Claude shuddered to imagine what would have happened if they were not as prepared as they were.

After a firm dressing-down by Integra for so recklessly running headlong into the basement and abandoning his command, Claude was allowed to rest. It was night-time by now.

Fully exhausted, he flopped onto his bed, not even bothering to strip out of his battledress, or even to put his gun away. The second his eyes closed, he was out.

There was a soft phump, then another. Claude’s eyes fluttered open slowly, unsure of how much time had passed. He looked to the source of the noise.

In the dim light of the room’s lamp, he could see a very short… Boy? Did he have… Cat ears? Claude’s eyes adjusted, and then widened as he another, much taller… Was that a woman? With a scythe? He quickly looked at the sleeping figure of his roommate. Blood… Blood on the walls.

The catboy turned to him, tittering quietly.

“Oh? You’re certainly qvite a heavy sleeper, nein?”

Without a second thought, Claude grabbed his sidearm and moved to fire it at the boy. But the woman was quicker. She was across the room before he could blink, and delivered a series of tremendous punches to his chest and stomach. Even through the bullet-resistant battledress, they knocked him utterly senseless. He gasped, struggling to breathe through the pain of what had to be several broken ribs. Thrown off balance by the impacts, Claude rolled off the bed, crashing to the floor and bringing his guns tumbling with him. Hitting the floor did nothing to alleviate the now eye-watering pain.

“Tsk… Vas zat really necessary, Obersturmführer Blitz?” The woman rolled her eyes, chomping down harder on the cigarette in her mouth.

“You vould razzer he shot you, zen? Or me, more importantly?”

Claude struggled, trying to lift his shotgun, but the catboy merely walked over and stepped a foot onto his chest, eliciting a gasp of pain.

“Ah-ah-ah… Now zat’s not wery nice.” The catboy picked up Claude’s shotgun with almost no effort. He wasn’t dying, but the pain of the Nazi Youth-dressed individual standing on his chest certainly made Claude wish he was dead.

“Mein leader visely decided to stop… How you say… pussy-footing around. If our plans vere getting foreseen, vhy not capture ze individual who foresees zem?”

Why do I ever open my big goddamn mouth?

The catboy giggled again, now standing with both feet on Claude’s chest.

“You’re going to be coming vis us.”

He bent down, cutely tapping Claude’s nose with a finger.

The world around them disappeared entirely.

(Not gonna lie, this chapter was a LOT of fun to write, but it certainly gave me guff trying to figure out how to allow Hellsing to find out about Millennium with all of the advantages they had in the battle. I also love how Medz and I, on our own, both formulated nearly identical ways for our characters to get captured!)