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Renfield Wasn't Crazy	By : Ergott Category: Hellsing > General Views: 4526 -:- 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.

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Renfield Wasn�t Crazy

Chapter
Two: A Quiet Sort of Girl.

It was a modern jungle.
Buildings rose up like metal trees while people bustled about, taking in the
smell of urban living, and the sound of millions of voices all talking at the
same time. The air was thin and smelled faintly of oil and hotdogs. Shops
littered every corner, with brightly lit displays proclaiming 50% discounts.
The general area was filled with the din of music, shouting, laughing, and
crying. Pavement, covered in grime and cracks, stretched out as far as the eye
could see. And over this nighttime setting streetlamps cast an eerie orange
glow. London was a busy city.

�For the most part.

The oldest city park was
filled with ancient oak, beach, and pine trees. Between the trees were dirt and
gravel paths that wove themselves intricately throughout the green district. On
the sides of the paths were iron benches of the beautiful, but extremely
uncomfortable, variety. Sitting on one of these benches were the only
inhabitants of the park: a laptop, a cup of hazelnut coffee, a battered copy of
Dracula, and a girl. Said girl was around twenty, willowy, pale, blonde haired,
and blue eyed.

And frustrated. Oh, so very
frustrated.

Seras Victoria had gotten
about as far as, �The novel Dracula, by Bram Stoker, is filled with
interesting and highly symbolic characters�� when she promptly ran out of
ideas. Well now, that�s not entirely correct. To be fair, she had plenty
of ideas; she just didn�t know how to go about writing them down. This was always
where school had been hardest for Seras; she could talk about things, discuss
them at length, but never could she seem to write them down. She took a
sip of her coffee, briefly toying with the idea of getting someone to
transcribe a conversation between her and a classmate, but decided that
Professor Vrel wouldn�t appreciate that. �Crap, I am so screwed!�

And suddenly she wasn�t alone
anymore.

The man walking up the path
was tall (somewhere around six feet) and lean. He was pale, with black hair and
seemed to be wearing a charcoal colored suit and a red trench coat. And
sunglasses. Seras couldn�t even begin to guess as to why a man would wear
sunglasses at night, especially in the green district where there was no
lighting at all. The gravel crunched under his booted feet as Seras continued
to stare at him; she didn�t mean to stare, she just couldn�t seem to take her
eyes away. As he drew closer she tried guess his general age, and found to her
astonishment that she couldn�t. There was something about his angular features
that defied time, twenties seemed too young, thirties seemed too old; his face
was simply ageless. Overall, he was imposing; the man was over twenty feet away
and yet she still felt mildly threatened by his presence.

Seras was a quiet sort of
girl; she never took risks, or went on adventures. She lived her life through
books. That wasn�t necessarily the way she liked things, but that was just the
sort of person she was. As a result she often felt that she was somewhat
socially awkward.

Which was exactly why she
didn�t say a word to the newcomer as he drew closer to her bench. She let out a
relieved breath when he drew level with her and still showed no signs of
slowing his ground-eating stride. Her relief was short lived however, when he
stopped just a few feet past her lonely vigil. He slowly turned his head to
look at her, and Seras idly wondered what color his eyes would have to be to
appear red from behind his oddly tinted glasses. �Probably mahogany�� He seemed
to study her for a moment, but she couldn�t really tell since his expression
never changed and it was hard to see his eyes from behind that glass.

�It�s a bit late for young
girls to out reading,� his voice was rich, dark, and firm; satin and crushed
velvet over steel.

Seras bristled; okay, so maybe
she couldn�t place his age, but he couldn�t be that much older than her!
�I�m not reading, I�m trying to write,� she snapped, faintly annoyed.

�Oh? What about?�

�It�s really none of your
business sir.� Seras began to panic when he turned around fully. If this man
had seemed intimidating from twenty feet off, it was nothing compared to now.
His six-foot frame towered over her sitting one; and was it just her, or did it
seem darker right where he was standing than anywhere else in the park?

�There�s no need to be so
brusque, I�m merely curious,� he seemed to smirk, but Seras was suddenly having
a hard time getting any sort of definite grasp on his features.

�Dracula. It�s for my English
class.� He wasn�t doing anything but talking to her, he wasn�t even standing
all that close, but she still felt uneasy. Discreetly, she started to gather
her stuff together.

A wind picked up from
absolutely nowhere. �How very droll,� the dark voice replied. And only the
voice.

Seras blinked.

He was gone! He had utterly
and completely vanished, and yet somehow she had heard him speak as if he had
still been standing there. She scanned the surrounding trees, and then eyed her
coffee suspiciously. Here she was, just trying to get a decent grade in school,
and her body had the audacity to create a caffeine-induced hallucination on
her!

Still�

Seras grabbed her belongings,
threw away her coffee, and headed back in towards the city, intent on finding
another place to write.

�Just
incase the caffeine hallucination decided to come back to the park.

Twenty minutes later and Seras
was still looking for somewhere to settle down. She was starting to wish she
hadn�t left the silence of the countryside to go to school. �Maybe Eddie and
Juno have moved their party to somewhere else by now,� but she knew better. No
matter how loud it got, no matter how much the neighbors complained, the
parties were never over until after 2am. �10pm; I�ve got at least four hours
until my apartment is silent.� The streets were crowded for a Wednesday night
but then, what else could one expect from London?

She knew she was probably
being paranoid, but every couple of blocks she felt as though she were being
followed. However when Seras looked around there was never anyone who looked
overly suspicious near her. At one point she thought she saw a flash of red
clothing ahead of her, but when she moved to get a better look her foot caught
on the uneven pavement. By the time she righted herself and looked back up the
only person wearing red was some poor kid dressed as a lobster mascot.

Seras crossed her arms and
pulled her jacket tighter against herself. The mysterious wind had not stopped
since she left the park, and only seemed to be getting colder. Unconsciously
she gripped her book bag tighter, and decided to stop at the first caf� or
library that she came across. Preferably somewhere crowded where intimidating,
possibly not caffeine induced, hallucinations could not approach her.

What she found was Rimkus
Corner, an underground poetry caf� with a sign that boasted it to be open from
12pm to 6am. Seras descended the stairs and took a good look around. Rimkus was
large and pentagonal, with a small stage near the back. The walls were an
interesting combination of maple paneling and dark colored silks; the floor was
littered with little wooden tables, bookshelves, and a few booths; the air was
blessedly free of the clouds of smoke that she had expected; and the lights
were dim, trying to lend an air of mystery which Seras thought was somewhat
childish and bloody irresponsible of anyone who wanted to read for an extended
period of time. All in all it was a nice place.

There was only one problem.
Including her and the guy sleeping behind the service counter there was a grand
total of five people in the entire establishment. Still, it was the perfect
place to write and (Seras could still vaguely feel the wind blowing down the
stairwell) it was warm.

Feeling that the chances of
the exchange in the park having been real, or that if it had been real, her
chances of that man being interested in finding her again, were slim she
decided to stay. She hesitated for a moment then headed over to the counter to
wake the boy up and get something to drink before going over to one of the cozy
looking booths. �Hopefully here I�ll be able to concentrate and, with any luck,
finish this paper so that I won�t have to worry about it for the rest of the
week.� Seras quietly set up her computer while listening to the couple in the
corner argue heatedly about Lovelace and Byron.

Two hours later she had
succeeded in doing nothing but annoy the guy working for waking him up just a
few too many times. �I maintain it�s not my fault that he�s sleeping on the
job,� Seras thought sourly when she noticed him glaring at her from behind his
counter again.

�Looks like you haven�t gotten
all that far into your writing since the last time that we crossed paths.�

A shadow fell across Seras�
computer screen. Slowly she raised her head up, her fears confirmed when she
saw Mr. Creepy from the park sitting on the other side of her booth. �When did
you get here? Are you following me?� she demanded, extremely bothered by the
notion that someone could be stalking her.

�I arrived here just before
you did, so the question begs to be asked: are you following me?�
there was definitely a smirk in his tone.

�Seras slapped herself mentally; how could she
count there being five people in the caf� and not notice that he had been one
of them, for two hours?

A/N: Alright, so that�s a bit
longer than the last one. Hopefully a little more interesting as well. Things
should start picking up here now that Seras has bumped into Alucard. Tell me
what you think! Review, or email me at royalstratt@aim.com.
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Renfield Wasn't Crazy