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Sacred and Profane	By : DanceswithElvis Category: Hellsing > General Views: 2727 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Hellsing, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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The Sacred and Profane

Chapter 2:
Rain-

Act One.

by Docky (a.k.a. DanceswithElvis)

.

Wales: November 15, 2002, Church of Saint Cadfan,
11:45pm.

In the darkness and all around him gathered the shadows of
the damned. Whether they actually existed on this plain or were just echoes and
memories, he did not know. What he did know was that he had been outclassed
defeated and somewhere in that threatening gloom, death waited for the final
dance. Already exhausted and bleeding heavily from several wounds Anderson
stood waiting for the finidoubdoubting that even his regenerative abilities
would help him now.

The dull sound of blade meeting flesh and the sharp pain
that followed didn�t really surprise the lanky Paladin. He could feel the warm
stickiness from his wound already spreading downward from his back, soaking his
clothes and dripping on to the stone floor. He swayed briefly before the
dizziness from blood loss overcame him and forced him to his hands and knees.
Panting from the pain he raised his head and looked up into the blazing eyes of
true evil.

�Fool. I gave you your chance. Now I send you back to
your brethren,� hissed a sibilant voice, echoing through the ancient cathedral�s
empty chamber. A flash of silver told Anderson that his long life would be at
an end in a few short seconds as the demon raised one of the Paladin�s own
swords above his head.

WWW

Rome: Late April 1945, a few days after allied victory
in Europe.

Watching over a small courtyard crowded with young children
sat two young nuns in deep discussion over one child in particular. He was a
pale child, painfully thin and a bit smaller than the other children his age.
He watched the others play with brilliant green eyes, his face impassive and
framed by long curly blonde hair. His clothes were torn and dirty, his hands
and feet cut from broken glass and sharp rocks, yet he carried himself with an
air defiant pride and active intelligence.

�Poor boy,� murmured Sister Josephine, gazing at silent
form of the boy sitting in an unoccupied corner of the courtyard watching the
other children play. Sighing, she turned back to her companion frowning, her
clear blue eyes troubled.

�It isn�t right for a child to be so. . .� here, the young
nun paused, searching for the right word.

�Empty?� supplied Sister Daphne, her brown eyes meeting
Josephine�s in understanding.

�Exactly,� Sister Josephine confirmed nodding her head.

Both women were softhearted in nature, and so when a knock
at their door late the previous night had brought them the shivering six year
old, covered in dried blood and grime, their tender hearts were lost to the
boy. During their cursory examination and clean up, they found that while he
had been covered in blood, he had not sustained any grievous injury. After
putting the child to bed, they had questioned the American soldier who had
brought him to their door. What the soldier had related to them had not eased
their mind or hearts.

Turning back to the boy, Sister Daphne asked, �Do you think
he remembers anything?�

�God, I hope not.�

The boy had been found wandering the ruins of a tiny
homestead near the small city of Cividale del Friuli near the Yugoslav border.
Apparently a German garrison, the homestead had be razed to the ground by the
retreating Nazi and Fascist forces and her inhabitants slaughtered, except for
the boy. American soldiers checking the area for fleeing Nazi troops had
stumbled across the massacre. Amongst the smoking ruble and shattered bodies
they found a dirty child with blazing green eyes shakily holding a gun pointed
directly at their advancing sergeant.

�No, Daphne, he remembers nothing,� answered a warm
baritone, startling the two nuns to their feet. �He doesn�t even remember his
own name.�

Flushing slightly for being so jumpy and being caught
gossiping, Sister Josephine bowed her head in greeting to the newcomer, �Father
Gilson! Forgive us, we didn�t mean to gossip.�

Quirking a brow and his clear grey eyes sparkling, the
priest teased lightly, a Scottish burr coloring his voice, �Didn�t mean to? Or
didn�t mean for me to catch you at it, sister?�

�Oh!� gasped Josephine, her eyes widening with a mix of
annoyance and genuine penitence.

Unperturbed by Father Gilson�s gentle admonishment, Daphne
asked the grinning priest, �So, what are we to call the boy, then?�

Considering her question, Gilson studied the boy for a few
minutes before returning his attention to the two nuns awaiting his answer.
�Alexander. We shall call him Alexander Andn, in, in honor of the priest that
mentored me all those years ago.�

WWW

Wales: November 14, 2002, Tywyn, 11:45am

As he drove the rental car into the Welsh town of Tywyn,
Anderson noted the fractus clouds didn�t look promising as they drifted over the
rise of the dark rolling mountains, setting the mood for why he was there.
There had been several �mysterious� deaths reported around Cader Idris and
Tywyn, and he had been sent to deal with it, even though the area was not of a
particular concern to the Vatican. No, instead, the Iscariot�s were more
interested in how the Hellsing Protestant Knights would respond to a vampire
threat in the organization�s weakened position.

Sir Integral Wingates Hellsing, having been released from
prison by a monarchy persuaded by the Hellsing�s pet No Life King, was recouping
at an undisclosed medical center somewhere in North Cumberland along with her
Angel of Death. Both were being closely guarded by Alucard and his servant, the
police girl. According to some recent information, the Hellsing institute had
acquired the services of a legendary band of mercenaries called the Wild Geese,
lead by a man named �Pip� Bernadotte; but even with the addition of the
mercenaries, Hellsing was weakened and the Iscariot organization wished to
exploit this to the best of its ability.

After pausing briefly to consult his map, Anderson made his
way to the Bryn-y-Mor Guest House to check in and prepare for the nights
activities. Happy to be out of the cramped confines of the small car, Anderson
stretched, and then walked to the low door of the guest house. The entrance of
the long limbed Paladin surprised the elderly woman at the front desk into
laughter. Surprised at her reaction, he quirked an eye brown and approached the
desk.

Amused blue eyes met brilliant green as the old n gan gave
Anderson a wry grin and greeted him merrily in Welsh. This gave Anderson pause
as he stared at the woman before conceding that he had no knowledge of the
language she spoke.

�May I help you, boyo bach?� laughed the old woman
as she looked up at the Paladin curiously from behind the front desk.

�Yes. There should be a reservation for a Father Alexander
Anderson,� he said, looking down at the wrinkled features and snapping blue eyes
framed by the white-grey hair of the woman. Amused by her pert behavior, as he
watched her shift through a couple of guest log pages, he noted that in her
prime she had probably been one of those wild beauties the romantic poets were
so fond of.

�Ah, then�here it is. Follow me, if you would, Father and
we will find your room,� said the old lady, looking up from the guest book
spread out on her desk. A few minutes later found Anderson alone in his room
reading through the information that Maxwell had given him.

�Six victims, each drained of blood, their necks broke
and�mutilated,� he murmured reading to himself. Pausing, he lifted a small stack
of photos that were paper clipped together. Removing the clip and spreading the
crime scene photos out on the small table next to his bed, Anderson considered
each one carefully.

Each type of vampire had its� own unique method. Ghouls
were rather messy, often dismembering and eating their victims, while FREAK
vampires, though violent, usually did not �gnaw� upon their chosen meal.
However, most FREAKs were sloppy, often feeding on just about anyone and they
usually left a bunch of ghouls behind to terrorize the local populace. True
vampires, on the other hand, were more particular in whose blood they stole and
rarely, if ever, left without breaking the neck of the victim, preventing them
from turning into a ghoul.

Studying the photos, he noticed an obvious pattern to the
crime scene. Each victim had been found crucified with railroad spikes on
crooked, makeshift crosses, their eyes gouged out and their tongues cut out.
Above each victims head was nailed a plain piece of wood with �desero�
ornately scrawled on it in blood.

�Forsaken,� whispered the blond man, shivering at the sense
of some lost memory playing at the edge of his consciousness. For a moment he
was lost in that eerie sense of almost knowing, staring out his window at the
Welsh mountains partially obscured by ragged clouds. Shaking himself out of his
momentary reverie, Anderson returned his attention to the crime scene reports.

WWW

Wales: November 14, 2002, Tywyn, just after sunset.

Seras Victoria sat glumly beside the mercenary captain,
looking out the window at the rising crescent moon, as they drove the personal
carrier past the first few houses that marked the edge of Tywyn. Sighing softly
to herself, she thought back on the events leading up to her being sent on this
mission. Sir Integral, while mobile and having returned to her work-a-holic way
of life, was still weakened from her self inflicted wound and her ordeal in
prison. Walter was slowly recovering his strength and had returned to some of
his lighter duties, but could not be counted on as adequate protection for Sir
Hellsing should the need arise; so, when they were contacted about the deaths in
Wales, her master, Integra and Walter had all decided that she should lead this
particular mission, allowing her master to stay behind and protect the Hellsing
heiress. Sir Hellsing felt that she had proven herself a useful addition to the
Hellsing organization and it was time that she took full responsibility on
certain missions. Walter had agreed with Integral�s assessment and Alucard, her
master had just smiled enigmatically and said, �Don�t disappoint me, police
girl.�

So they had packed her off to Tywyn with Captain Bernadotte
and five other men to take care of the vampire problem. And here she was,
riding in silence with six men who did not really trust her, into a situation
that she had a bad feeling about.

WWW

Vatican City, the offices of the Iscariot Organization,
Division XIII.

Two figures watched the moonrise from the large, wide
window in the center of a darkened office.

�So, he is taking care of the problem in Wales? What of
the Protestant Knights?� a voiced bathed in shadow and age asked his companion.

�What of them? They are still licking their wounds and can
be easily dispatched if they choose to interfere,� answered a snide, cold voice.

The two shadowy forms lapsed into silence for a few minutes
before another question dared break the silence.

�Do you think he knows�?� queried the elderly shadow. He
was answered by a shout of mirthless laughter and a momentary silence before he
was answered.

�Does he know what he is? No,� replied the acerbic voice of
his shadowy companion, �as far as he knows, he is the creation of our Holy
Magic.�

�What if he finds out?�

�He won�t.�

�But what if he does?�

�Then, my friend, he will make Satan look like a choir
boy.�

WWW

Anderson was kneeling in silent prayer, readying himself
for the task of hunting and killing the abomination responsible for the murders
when the sound of a heavy vehicle traveling down the road in front of Bryn-y-Mor
Guest House caught his attention. Rising, he walked to the window and looked
out just in time to catch a glimpse of the Hellsing crest on the door of the
armored carrier and a flash of blond hair of a passenger.

Smiling in fanatical delight, Anderson closed his eyes and
whispered, �So they sent the little fledgling�hmm�facilis est descensus
Inferi, but the rise to salvation is bathed in the blood of saints. Little
demon, your body shall be purified and your soul saved. Amen.�

WWW

Author�s Notes:

Hello again. Originally, The Sacred and Profane was to be
a one-shot story, but I was amazed by the responses I received that were asking
for more. Well, I have bowed to the commands of my readers and wrote a new
chapter starting a new story�think of the original one as a prologue of sorts.

Obviously, none of this happens in the Anime or manga�.I am
attempting to fuse the two into a coherent continuum. There will probably be
little discrepancies here and there�but, the course of these events should be
considered to be happening before The Balance of Power Chapter Three, in
book 3 of the Hellsing manga novels. I want to get the Millennium Group involved
in this�.can�t tell you much more without giving away my plot. Sorry. ^.^

Except for the small farm where the American soldiers found
our lovable Judas priest, all the places mentioned in this story are real. I
may have taken a few liberties with exact details and such, but nothing major.
I have used a few Welsh names and one or two words in this chapter, so anyone
who knows Welsh, please feel free to correct me if I have misspelled or misused
a word or place.&nb

Also the phrase: �Facilis est descensus Inferi� is
Latin for �The decent to hell is easy.� If I�ve made a mistake in my Latin, I
do ask someone tell me so I can correct it.

I would like to thank everyone who has reviewed and given
me so much support on this story. Thank you! Without your encouragement, I
seriously doubt that I would have continued this particular story. Thank you:
Teleute, Afrodite, Portia,

Reyana Draconis,

Lady Ravenshadow,

Tain Nosferatu Infernus,

GodOfTheWired,

flashgemini,

Alexandra, Captain
Spaulding,

Zpan Sven,

CCS Sakura!!!

Oh! Before I forget�this
particular story arch is inspired by the Yoko Kanno song Rain from the
Cowboy Bebop episode, Ballad of Fallen Angels.

I think that about wraps things
up for this chapter. I sincerely hope that you have read and enjoyed this new
chapter as much as you did the original story. As always, please read and
review, comments and questions are always welcome. Thanks!

Please stay tuned for the next
chapter!

Docky
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Sacred and Profane