Tag: Walter

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!)