Adult-FanFiction.org : Anime

No Time For Regrets I - Seras	By : HimeAndi Category: Hellsing > General Views: 2781 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: All characters and situations from Hellsing & Hellsing Ultimate are property of Hirano Kouta and YoungKingOurs, Japan. I make no money with this work.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
- 3
Her eyes opened to such utter darkness that she could feel it, like a cloth over her body. She did not feel quite as rested as she liked. And that emptiness was in her belly again.

She turned on the beside lamp, stretched then peered around in case he was at her bedside again. Since the room was empty, she assumed she had beaten his ideal time for her to wake. She hopped up and dressed in her uniform and then sat to finish her assigned reading. She had gotten to the parchment paper and was a little stunned.

The first pages were more like police reports of sorts, explaining vampiric activity in various locations in German with English translations attached and the steps taken to “silence the target”. Some of the reports were over one hundred years old, and were written in such outlandish handwriting that she could barely read it. All these older reports were signed by one man; Abraham Van Hellsing.

She frowned; Walter had said Abraham Van Hellsing was in Dracula… she pulled the portfolio around and opened it; the first pages were filled with gorgeous photographic portraits, most dated 1885, and sure enough one Abraham Van Hellsing was pictured in one of the portraits. She was not sure she liked his face. His head was wide, with hair that waved back from his face. He had a very tight jaw and piercing eyes that had probably been blue. His eyes were oddly familiar.

“Oh! Sir Integra! Of course, Sir Integra Hellsing, why did I not catch that?” She whispered. Somehow knowing this was not a flash of triumph for fitting a puzzle together.

It scared her, near terrified her. What had she been pulled into? This Professor Hellsing had been killing Vampires for a good chunk of his life according to what she had been reading, and so his children and their children were doing the same. Which meant that vampires were a serious, unending problem.

And she was a vampire herself now. Why had she not been killed? Why had he helped her, saved her only to drop her into… Hellsing, a family that killed his, and now her own kind. Why, how could he kill creatures like himself? How could she be expected to do it? Something in her hissed and snarled at the thought, while part of her wanted to save lives. Human lives. Lives were being lost all the time to these other vampires whom she had yet to lay eyes on.

“As our Master says, the best hunter of vampires is another vampire. He told me that right away. And he said we do not really have the right to live. He kills them when he…”

“Miss Victoria? Have you risen yet?” Walter’s voice came through the door as he knocked on the wood. She did not jump, too enmeshed in her thoughts to even be startled.

“Yes Walter, come in.” She called, carefully putting the portfolio away when one of the sheets flipped out of it and fluttered to the floor. She bent to grab it, but Walter beat her, despite being barely inside the doorway a split second ago. She blinked in confusion as he took up the paper and then peered over it at her, his gray eyes serious and a little concerned.

“Did you review the portraits yet?” he asked a little tightly.

“I was looking for Professor Van Hellsing’s portrait, so I did not really look at them yet, I’m sorry!” She said nervously, wondering if she had been meant to stay up all day reading the portfolio. She was surprised when he relaxed and smiled at her with relief.

“I know it will seem strange, but Sir Integra and Alucard have insisted you not see this particular portrait until a later date. I must say I disagree with the order, but they were most adamant.” Walter said, seeming just a bit embarrassed and annoyed. She blinked at him then quickly spread the remaining pictures out with a surprisingly graceful flick of her wrist. She did not realize she was emulating his speed reading ability to an extent as her eyes moved from one face to the next. She looked up, eyes dark.

She knew which portrait they were hiding. But why?

“I see. Why am I not to see it? Was he so very scary?” She said, voice dripping with scorn. Walter frowned deeply at her.

“The image is not ‘scary’, Miss Victoria. He was terrifying however. He was very frightening indeed. And the picture… yes I think I understand. You need some time before you see this portrait. I promise, I will show it to you when you are ready. It will make everything fall into place. I swear it.

“Now, we have a mission. I took the liberty of crafting these for you, to make your night easier.” The old man said and smiled a bit proudly. “These” were simply a pair of military boots that laced to mid calf. She took them and eyed them dubiously.

“Thanks? Um, no offense but they look just like the ones I wore last night. How can they help make my night easier?” Walter smiled indulgently.

“You would have a difficult time, or at least a very uncomfortable trip without these boots, Miss Victoria. These boots contain earth from where you died as a human. Alucard went there and got me plenty of it so we can make more pairs of boots as needed.” She felt her jaw drop then closed it with a snap.

Of course. Supposedly vampires could not cross water. She had read a quaint vampire novel that explained this very idea; vampires had, according to this book, been using this trick to make walking in sunlight and crossing running water possible for them. If she remembered her fellow orphan’s whispered synopsis of Dracula, he even was carried in a crate of earth, making travel far from home possible. So that was a truth of her new life? She had to be aware of dirt and keep it on her? Bother.

“I can see you thinking, and no. You have already shown some interesting resistances to things other vampires would hate. For instance, the crucifix? And the Holy Water used in the tomato bisque last night.” She stood so fast she was a blur and leaned at him, eyes blazing brilliant blue.

“You did what? You tried to kill me?! Isn’t holy water supposed to destroy vampires?!” she snarled; and she was snarling, just like an angry she-wolf. Walter’s eyes narrowed the tiniest bit, but otherwise he did not seem too affected by her rage.

“I most sincerely apologize Miss Victoria. We never had a new vampire about before, and since you handled the silver, which was blessed by a cardinal, by the way, so very well, Sir Integra and myself wondered if the holy water would bother you. To your credit, Alucard said it was stupid to try it, that you would not be harmed by it.” She felt her throat with a grimace as she remembered that her throat had hurt with every swallow, and how oddly the soup had sat in her stomach.

“But it did hurt. I could barely swallow it, and it made me feel so strange. Like I had eaten wet cement.” She admitted. She felt a soft breeze then Walter was patting her arm, sighing. He had moved around the table with incredible speed, almost as fast as she was, yet he was not a vampire… so odd.

“You obviously are not aware that vampires cannot eat complex foods. Your body will find anything you eat to be too hard to digest very quickly, Miss Seras. It will not be long until you will have to abandon human food entirely and subsist on blood alone. But do not worry. We will provide you with blood purchased from blood banks and other medical institutions. You need not, indeed will rarely be allowed to take blood from a living person.” He said comfortingly.

She was not comforted however. Not even a little.

She would have to drink blood… of course she would. She was a flipping vampire, dammit. Somehow this little glaring fact had eluded her last night. Vampires drink blood, it was pathetically obvious, the most known thing about them, the most feared thing about them.

About her.

Well dammit. “I… see. I would still like normal food until I can’t eat it anymore, Walter. If that is okay I mean.” He nodded and patted her arm again. It was comforting.

“Of course Miss Seras. May I call you Seras?”

“Please Walter, of course. Calling me Miss Victoria made me feel like an old spinster auntie!” He chuckled at that.

“Now, change into those boots and hurry upstairs. They will be ready to move out shortly and you must be prepared as well. Do not forget to get your equipment from the bunker.”

She nodded and switched out the boots, noticing that she did feel oddly better, a little less… empty and tired. She hurried up the stairs and literally bounced off a wall that should not have been there. It certainly had not been there yesterday. However the wall chuckled and grasped her upper arms with warm fingers, letting her know that it was not a wall at all, but his chest.

“A little more attention to your surroundings is in order, Police Girl. Despite all our strengths, we are far more vulnerable than the humans around us. Lax attention can mean a true death for you.” She looked up at him with a small frown.

“I am sorry but I am not sure what you mean.” She admitted sheepishly. She braced for his scorn but he took her seriously. After all, she had not yet had a chance to finish her studies, and he had not really told her very much about what she now was.

“Never underestimate your limitations and their freedoms, Police Girl. You are limited, weakened, even utterly helpless by day, and they are free to move at will, to seek and destroy day or night. Yes you have inherited a fine immunity to silver and holy water, but shrugging off decapitation? Ignoring being staked to your resting place? Do you think silver and crosses are the only weapons they can use against you?” he said firmly, voice serious and without the mocking edge she had heard so often the night before.

Well no, she supposed when he put it like that, she did realize that she was a bit vulnerable at that. Plus, she did not know everything about what could harm or kill her yet, obviously. She bit her lower lip then winced as her fangs went through her tender flesh again.

She really had to break this habit of biting herself. Especially since his eyes lit so obviously that she could see them blazing behind the red, mirrored glasses he wore. She watched, fascinated despite herself as he sniffed the air quite obviously, rather like a dog catching a scent. My but that was… sexy. Yes, quite sexy. How very strange to think, yet she did think it. Luckily he had not seemed to catch her very impure thoughts about him.

“Enough about your pathetic weaknesses. You are wearing those boots Walter made? Good. You need them to fly in the human’s cursed helicopter. I will meet you at our destination…” He disappeared, as was his want apparently. She really wanted to know how he did that, and start doing it to him. He was so frustrating, and damned insulting. Her ‘pathetic weaknesses’ indeed!

She would show him, somehow. Just how, and when she did not know, but damn, she would show him!

She ran out to the bunker and grabbed the supplies laid out for her; that huge ass .50 caliber rifle and several pouches containing extra magazines. She then ran and found the pad with the helicopter waiting for her on the roof of one of the manor’s wings. Eyeing it warily, four stories up, she made a decision to not run inside and frantically search for a staircase up there.

She eyed the walls and chose to let her new instincts guide her. Could she climb those walls?

Yes.

Okay then, could she run up them as he did?

Not yet, but she could jump up them… her feet and hands could find purchase at various points.

She gave herself a little running start and not thinking too hard about it, jumped up to a windowsill, the first point she had seen. Her body gracefully leapt to a second floor window, then to a point that was so small, a brick barely jutting an inch from the walls… yet her foot landed there barely a half second before she made her next jump, and then the next until she landed with a soft plop on the roof. She smiled widely, quite proud of herself. She ran over to the helicopter as the jet engine began to scream, the props starting to turn.

She sat where directed in the heli, fidgeting nervously. She was sitting with one leg over the side and felt like she would fall out, but the men with her in the helicopter simply laughed when she asked for a strap or something for securement. She was too timid and confused to argue or demand one. The trip reminded her what he had shown her the night before on the roof, what her body had just shown her as she leapt about on the face of Hellsing’s hallowed walls; she had incredible balance now. She was never in any danger of falling out of the opened sides of the vehicle.

She was dropped off, alone, onto the roof of a building and told to await orders. She was cradling the massive gun, rifle… hell it was a monster of a gun! But it must be made of composite, because it felt like a toy in her hands. She sighed then stiffened as she heard gunfire not far away. She already knew the sound of that gun; he was blasting something to hell down there somewhere.

No, not something. Someone. Some vampire.

She sighed and waited, then realized she did not have any sort of communication device on her, not even a cell phone! Well gee, how could she get orders, instructions, warning that it was time to leave? She slumped a little; great. She was straddling a roof spine again, holding a stupid huge gun…

His gun stopped roaring suddenly, and she listened with all her might knowing he was likely to show up and scare her right off the roof.

Your turn, Police Girl. Your target is running south.

She blinked and peered that direction; yes, she caught movement. She lifted the gun quickly, and then paused.

“Master, she’s so far away and I don’t even have a scope!” she saw long hair fluttering behind the target, and assumed it was a girl. A girl vampire, fleeing from a grisly scene, by the smell she was just catching; blood and gunpowder mixing in her nostrils.

Human complaints, Police Girl. He was suddenly floating just a bit to the side of the roof she was perched on. She kept her eyes on the fluttering movement of the girl as he spoke, his voice lowering, deep and somehow soothing. “You have a third eye, open it and let it guide you. Look, Police Girl.”

She felt her body react to his words, her eyes closed then snapped back open. Her vision opened for lack of a better word, eyes rushing along the now massive distance between them and the fleeing girl. Her hands flexed as the night brightened; she could see the girl so easily now. Her finger tightened on the trigger, and she blinked as she heard the report, saw the bullet leave the barrel and unerringly hit the girl dead center of her back, literally punching the girls heart out of her chest. The girl did not stumble; she simply slid gracefully to the ground, her long hair fluttering around her prettily before she suddenly disintegrated into ashes.

She stared as the ashes fluttered in a breeze she did not feel.

Very good. You see how easy it was? You were a fine shot in life I am sure, but now you can shoot a fly off a horse’s ass from a kilometer away.

Okay, the night was as bright as day now. She had fired the gun, which she knew had a powerful trigger that she should have struggled to pull, yet had felt like a hair trigger, and there had been no recoil. A .50 caliber should have kicked her right off this roof. And… well damn she realized suddenly that his voice was in her head, not in her ears. Telepathy? Wonderful.

“What… is happening to me? These changes… too much. It’s too much too fast.” She said softly, looking down at her hand. She looked the same, maddeningly so. She even felt the same… for the most part.

Until his lessons and jibes that is. Walking or jumping up walls, fingertips tingling at the touch of silver, simple soup making her feel like she’d eaten the worst Chinese food ever…

“It’s too much…” she whispered, hand clenching.

“Hmmm, no, not yet. In due time. There is no rush.” She heard him murmur behind her, but she ignored him.

“All right Police Girl, back into the helicopter. Our Master will be pleased; we’ve been here less than fifteen minutes. Very clean and quick.” His arm slid around her again, pulling her close to his warm side as he floated swiftly to where the heli waited. She huffed slightly; she could have jumped down. The house had been a mere two story, and hadn’t she jumped up Hellsing’s three stories a short time ago? His laugh was mocking, but he said not a word as he dumped her out of his arms twenty-feet up in the air. She squealed then landed with a soft plop, utterly unharmed and graceful, like a cat. She still shook her fist upwards at him, though he was already gone…

~~

She was greeted warmly by Walter who immediately wanted to grill her on her assigned reading. She stumbled through the oral exam, mainly because she was startled by it and because her mind was whirling through the things she had done and learned tonight so far. Walter seemed content with her answers however and led her to the dining room, where more soup was set out, along with some bread so soft it was more like it was not baked long enough, and butter. The soup was much better but the bread, she could not swallow it. The butter she could lick from her finger, but it was like trying to eat something too rich and thick, already hard but not impossible to swallow.

She sighed and finished what she could of the soup, then quailed in horror when Walter set an ice bucket with a packet of blood in it before her. She flashed terrified eyes at him; she felt like running away and hiding from that innocent silver container and its vile plastic covered contents.

“Walter, no. Save it for Master.” She said with a trembling voice. Walter hesitated then took the bucket away. She fled the scene, grabbed her remaining study material and sought a refuge anywhere but where she could be found easily by him or Walter.

Of course, she could have run to France and he would have found her easily. He stood over her silently as she sat behind some slightly run-down outbuilding that looked to be unused at the moment. She ignored him as best she could, reading in the starlight with no strain to her keen eyes. She was proud of herself that she did not glance at him other than when he had arrived. Yet he was so still, and so quiet… she was still human in her mind and her experience. It was so damn hard not to say something to break the silence, uncanny, almost preternatural…

Wait. It was preternatural. She strained her ears and heard nothing at all, not the men patrolling the compound, not the soft rumble of vehicles warming up, the men refueling the heli… nothing but the softest sigh as the wind moved by them, making his coat move, her hair flutter, her papers rustle. They were cloaked in a soft and utter silence that only they could fill. She calmly set the papers aside and put a convenient rock on them to hold them down, then folded her hands in her lap.

“Yes, Master? What can I do for you?” She asked, still not looking at him. She waited, the toe of one boot in her vision but nothing else visible, and she damn well would not look up to see his face. Part of her cringed at the thought; he would surely look disappointed with her.

“Walter did explain that you cannot process human food for much longer. You should at least augment that with some blood until you are forced to blood alone, Police Girl. This is sudden, yes, but you are not human anymore. You made this choice so you could cheat death. No humans were harmed to provide that blood for you. Refusing it is sentimental and silly. It also forces me to watch you closely. In a few weeks you could be so starved that not only will you be weak, sleep and the human food not giving you any energy, if you can even swallow it by then; but you could easily start eyeing the humans around you and attack. If you do that I will have to… stop you.” He sounded almost eager for her to snap like a rubber band so he could shoot her dead-dead.

She nodded her understanding. “Is that all?”

“You are such a bother. No, that is not all. Our Master has been asked to clean a freak infestation in Ireland. I for one wish to test your ability to travel over the water with just those boots to assist your movement. Are you game?” she looked up at that and shocked them both by grinning.

“Why not? What will happen if the boots can’t help?” He smirked and shrugged then headed back for the heli, which she could hear again. “That bad, Master?” she called as she jogged after him.

The trip was fine. She felt nothing at all, no dizziness, no weakness, not even nausea. Her eyes were slyly on him as he sat stock still across from her during the entire trip. Obviously he had no issue with water, or else he had soil in his heavy boots as well. Probably, like herself, it was both. She admired his sharp cheekbone as the waning moon caressed his dead white skin. Who was he really, and where had he come from? Where had he been in his long life? She imagined it was a long life so far; he knew a lot about Medieval peasants and ancient church customs… what else did he know about?

Restrain your mind’s volume a little, would you Police Girl?

She hissed in embarrassment, her cool cheeks stinging. She was unaware that the blush she felt as throbbing red barely stained her pale skin; no one else noticed at all.

He is using telepathy! Dammit, if he can hear me, why can’t I hear him unless he ‘talks’ to me? She almost wailed mentally, though she remembered his admonition to be more quiet.

Because I know how to keep my mind private. But then as you guessed I am old and have done and seen many things. One day you will be able to keep me out, or actually, not let your mind shout so that I can hear you so easily. His voice was calm with an undercurrent of warmth, and wariness. She sensed his curiosity, about her. He had let her ‘hear’ this sensation, she realized, as he pondered her existence. Something about the things done to him made him wonder what she would be like, and if those things were what had left her addled.

“I am not addled!” she hissed, pleased that her voice was so quiet only he could hear. He laughed just as quietly, making her growl and ignore him for the rest of the trip.

~~

She sat on the steps of an old academy, listening to the huge Casull roar, the sound somehow conveying joy in its explosive, reverberating bangs. She sighed and stared at the moon, wondering why she had never seen a red moon before, until she had become this. Had she just never had eyes that could see this bloody tint? Or was it just his presence making the moon cast such an unwholesome glow?

She heard his current magazine empty, the slide slamming back for a new round and staying there when nothing popped up. It sounded hungry. Come along Police Girl, it is your turn now. She sniffed and blinked, then winced as he near bellowed into her head. Move your ass now Police Girl!

“Oh damn, yes of course, I am coming now!” she yelled, the glass in the windows near her vibrating and cracking at the volume of her shout. Luckily none actually broke, as the poor institution would have enough clean up to do. She kicked in a door and padded into the hallway running along the front of the building. Confronting her was a small horde of ghouls, already stinking as their skins were decaying far too quickly.

“Okay, they are dead-dead, and they cannot be cured. Okay, so one shot and it will be over. Right.” She said softly, giving herself a pep-talk. She released the safety on her gun with a soft doubled sound. Suddenly the shuffling undead started for her, too stupid to realize that her blood, her body heat was not a human’s, and she likely was not very satisfying to eat because of this.

Before the first of them had taken a full shuffling step, she was firing, and hitting each of her targets, not a bullet wasted. Take that Master.

“Police Girl, some kindness to the poor things. They did not ask for this fate. Be sure to hit their brains or their hearts, and end their suffering. Some of your shots are just increasing their pain.” He said with a strange edge to his voice.

She heard him but simultaneously had noticed the scent of blood filling the air. Despite how they looked these ghouls were actually freshly dead humans as well, barely hours dead. The blood flew as she finished her magazine and dropped it, tossing it aside with a flick of the wrist that caused the metal to embed itself a half inch into the wood floor. She smirked; her last shots had been true, thanks to his advice, but now…

She turned and leered at him, her blue eyes darkening alarmingly. From blue to violet to purple to blazing red, she held his delighted gaze without a flinch. Her eyes swept over him, covered neck to toe with his oddly immaculate red Inverness then fixed on his face once more. He lowered his head, peering at her with equally blazing eyes over his glasses.

“Yessssssss, my Masterr…” She purred. Her mind was both clouded and yet more clear than she could ever remember. Suddenly she whirled and smirked as the slowest bullet ever shot leisurely swam past her head. She did not register anything but delight that the thing had missed her by inches, her eyes falling on a more ambitious ghoul with a large and now empty gun in its rubbery hand. She licked her lips, nostrils twitching. The scent was like heaven, all the blood and death around her…

Darting forward so swiftly that she was not even a blur, but appeared to have dematerialized, she slammed her delicate elbow into the ghouls chin. Its head rocked back with a sickening, lovely crack that gave her chills of joy. She stood over it, her fangs bared in a smile like a Cheshire cats.

Or maybe his smile.

She set her foot to his chest then purred. No. Not his chest. She slid her foot up the things neck and pressed her dirt-filled boot onto its head. It began to make a strangled noise as she pressed down with excruciating, exquisite slowness. Behind her, she barely registered that he was coming closer. She could almost feel his smirk, bloodthirsty and enjoying the show she was providing. She grinned wider, her face a travesty of its normal sweetness as she barely leaned onto her foot and its head popped like a water balloon. Blood sprayed mainly onto the floor.

But some splattered up onto her, rich crimson droplets that refused to seep into her clothes, her gloves.

“You seem to be getting the hang of your new nature. Since you got rid of the ghouls, we need to find the Vampire that made them. Kill it and any ghouls left will die…” His voice trailed off she slowly lifted her hand to her face, her tongue stretching out…

The smell, she could already taste it, iron and darkness and rich. She felt her eyes droop half closed as she sensually bent to meet her rising hand, to partake of her rightful trophy.

She heard it, barely. Something cutting the air. Something sharp and deadly, something aimed at her. She felt a slight shove, then a most unsettling sensation of air moving through her neck before pain registered, stabbing pain in her neck, that shifted to a burning instantly. She felt weakness start to flood her, but ignored it.

A blade that shined in the red moonlight was poking out of her neck, the tip already trickling her blood along its length to drip leisurely to the floor between her feet. She was frozen in shock for a full second. She heard him gasp then growl something, maybe “Who?!” or “What?!”

Then she tossed her head back and screamed in horror. The scream was cut off as twelve more of the blade hit her, all in the back, many shoving right through her so they were sunk to the hilt in her flesh. The weakness was instant and she fell to her face, unable to even try and catch herself. She tried to pull her arms forward, shove herself up, even a little. She coughed, blood tickling her throat and lungs, blood trickling down the blades and making an ever widening puddle under her.

Distantly she heard whooshing, as if some flock of birds were flying in formation along the walls. She felt something shift in the hallway, a subtle yet palpable change in the air, making it even harder to move. It was like a bad dream, where you are fleeing a runaway truck but your feet wont move.

“… the hell is this?” His voice drifted into her ears, somehow comforting even as his tone conveyed that he was off balance and a hint confused. She tried to lift her head again and gurgled a soft moan of pain. He moved a hint closer to her, but did not move to help her. Instead, she saw him tilt his head, and then she heard what he had.

Footsteps, coming down the old staircase. They were slow, perfectly even. Whoever it was did not seem to be in any hurry. When finally the other person came into view, she gasped again, blood oozing from her lips and her neck. He merely pulled the Casull from thin air and smirked.

The man was tall, incredibly so. His short blonde hair was a charming mess of shorn blonde strands. But his face… was horrible. A scar divided his tanned cheek, and his eyes were wide behind round wire-rimmed glasses, blazing green and filled with madness like the fires of hell blazed behind them. Those eyes terrified her, and yet…

She had seen those eyes before. Not the shape, not the color. The madness, the bloody glee at the thought of carnage to come. Her eyes snapped to the man’s mouth when he grinned. His teeth seemed normal, and yet his incisors were just a hint too long. And his arms were nearly as freakishly long as… as his were.

Was this a vampire or a man?

“Wha’ a lovely moon we ‘ave tonight! Is this not sew, munsturs?” the man said in a rather Scottish accent, and she resisted a snort of terrified disgust; monsters? The pot was calling the kettle black here! Just who and what was this guy? She hissed in pain again, more blood gurgling from her throat. His cold green eyes shifted to her and he smirked wider. It made her cold all over to see it aimed at her.

“Ah, such ah lovely voice ye have, li’l ladeh. Yu’re so beautehful writhin’ in pain so. But, yeh are not a’dyin’ yet, nevur fear. I avoided yur accursed un-batin’ heart, yu seeh. Didn’ yur master teach yoo anythin’? Anywhey, I rareleh get to pley wit’ real vampires, so I intend to enjoy this, in answer to tha’ question in yur beautehful bleu eyes.” She cringed slightly then laid still as he prattled his speech, trying to pretend she was not in fact scared of true death. But her façade broke when he spoke in reply to the blonde man-thing.

“Ah I see!” His voice had that edge of that Romanian accent again. How odd. “I know who you are. From Section XIII, the Iscariot Division’s Paladin Alexander Anderson.” His eyes were firmly hidden behind his glasses, yet his delight at what was surely coming, a bloody, violent fight was obvious in the curve of his lips, the tilt of his head, that soft eastern European purr. She felt her eyes widen; why had no one told her of this monster’s existence before?

Then again, did it matter? Obviously she was not equipped yet to deal with such a force of nature as this Anderson guy.

“Ah such a clevah beastie. Correct, yuh lap dog of a Protestant whoure!” Anderson stepped forward, and he stepped forward, matching him to the inch. They had a rather leisurely conversation as they strode closer and closer towards each other. She had never seen a samurai movie or she might have recognized this posturing as respect for a powerful opponent, each offering something like silent praise for the other’s warrior skills.

“An’ yur theh vampire Aluucaard, I presume? The domesticated wampyre that kills ‘is own kind.”

“Where are the vampires that made this pathetic trash that we cleaned up for you?” he drawled curiously, though even she knew what had happened to them.

“Sad weaklin’s Theh are gone of course. Didn’ even put up much o’ ah fight. Boring.” Anderson said with insincere casualness. They continued to pace until they had passed each other, now back to back, each male’s right shoulder nearly touching. Their feet smacked the ground as they drew to a halt, the sound somehow shaking the floor she was laying and bleeding on. The tension was so thick she could feel it on her skin.

“So now it seems… onley the two o’ yeh are left.” Anderson said with quiet glee.

“Is that so?” he said, his voice a caressing purr, as if he were flirting with the blonde man behind him. Suddenly both were in motion, Anderson with a blade (were those bayonets? How freaky!) in each hand, and the vampire with his massive gun in his right hand. Amazingly, the blades were driven home into his neck before he could actually shoot. However, Anderson was now unarmed, unable to fend off the massive bullet that immediately blew out the back of his skull, sending him flying. His blood started pooling around him as he slumped against a wall.

He turned towards her, pulling the blades free and tossing them aside with seeming casualness. However they were buried half their length into the floor, a testament to how very pissed he was.

“Master!” she cried, amazed she could even speak at all.

“Quiet girl.” He slowly knelt in front of her, a smirk playing his lips and revealing his fangs. “He faced off a vampire in the middle of the night. Brave yet stupid. Yet, he was quite strong, don’t you agree, especially for a human.” He shrugged. “These damned bayonets were blessed and bathed in holy water. Even I felt pain from them. Now, hold still and I’ll get them out of you so you can heal.”

Her eye shot past him as she saw movement. To her horror the Paladin was moving… he was alive? No… not just moving and alive… he was alive and standing, moving with utter silence towards them once more. She gasped, too weak to point.

“Ma-master!” she half screamed. He shushed her, possibly thinking she feared the pain of removing the blessed blades from her already aching body.

“I said do not talk, you’ll waste energy.” Suddenly his eyes were boring into hers, though how she could tell through the glasses she had no idea. His face registered that she was not afraid of pain, not for herself at least. Drawing air somehow into her perforated lungs, she screamed a high ringing cry.

“Master!” He froze as he sensed what she had seen, had warned him of, just as several blades thrust through his back, narrowly avoiding his heart.

“The hell!” he hissed as he leapt over her like some demented beast, and the very alive, not very dead, very smirking Anderson began to laugh. The sound chilled her blood, what was left of it. He spun about mid flight and fired two rounds at the strangely ambulatory Paladin, who was knocked off his feet, only to flip back upright in a split second. Anderson spun about to face them again, his vestments swirling around him grandly.

He fired again then grimaced in shock as his right arm was grabbed in a grip of steel. A human’s arm would have been pulped under the pressure, she was sure. So fast she could barely see what happened, Anderson had pinned his right hand to the wall with a bayonet, forcing the .454 from his grasp. She blinked then gaped in horror as she realized both of his hands were pinned, his back pressed to a paned window, his face snarling with fury and pain.

Anderson calmly drew two more blades and slid them together, the edges screaming a song of death that made her teeth clench in agony. She heard a strange hissing sound then a plink as the bullet fired into his brain forced its way out of his forehead.

“Aaaaaaaahmen” The paladin said with silky voice.

Utterly disgusting and terrifying. How the hell could this be happening? How could they stop this…

“A regenerator!” he said, voice actually awed. His eyes widened, the light falling on him in such a way that his shocked red eyes were clearly visible through his glasses.

“Currect. A weapon bred to extinguish flames o’ evil such as yeh.” Without further ado, the blades in Anderson’s hands sang through the air. At least twenty bayonets had pierced his torso, blood trickling then running from his lips. Every major organ in his body had to have been punctured twice!

“Master!” her throat hurt as the scream left her lips; as she watched in horror, his eyes went blank, and his head lolled to the side, a gruesome caricature of death impaled to the wall, the window behind him shattered as bloodstained glass tinkled to the floor.

The Paladin began to laugh, and laugh and laugh more, his sanity level falling as if he was exhaling it with the manic sound of his amusement. She shuddered and shoved herself to hands and knees, the blood flowing slowly down the blades and into the puddle around her. It is not that big really, she thought absently. Her training as a cop told her that she had half her blood left still, most likely. Bad news for a human but she was probably still able to handle the loss.

She hoped.

She then looked up in time to see Anderson slice off his head, and with an amazing if short-lived burst of energy bolted the other way, too horrified to endure the Paladins presence any longer. Besides if Anderson could kill him, what could she do against the Regenerator?

She reached back as her steps slowed and pulled one of the blades from her side, wincing at the double assault of pain; the blade cut her worse as she freed it, and burned her fingers with its blessings as well. Obviously while silver was not so bad by itself, nor holy water, the two combined were a bit much for her. She ground her teeth and continued to work the blades free, next pulling the one from her neck. Slowly she advanced, seeking a door or an unlocked window. Somehow the windows were all locked, and she was growing too weak to force them open. Breaking the glass would be too noisy, and she knew the helicopter and support team were too far away to hear it, or even her voice most likely.

She finally reached back for the last of the thirteen blades and moaned pitifully as she tugged it free. Instantly, despite the continued blood loss, she felt better, her strength starting to return. She tossed the blade down between her feet in a fit of disgust, the tip sinking 1/3 of the way into the wood. She made a few more steps then heard a strange hiss in the air, just before his head slammed into the wall, impaled by yet another blade.

“Master? Master Alucard?!” she wheezed in terror. His face was blank, the stump of his neck no longer bleeding, though a trickle of blood trailed down his chin. She reached for him then froze as the Paladins voice slithered through the darkness behind her.

“And just where do yeh think yur goin’? Runnin’ is useless yeh know.” She turned as he stepped into view, smiling with good humor, eyes lost behind the glasses she had barely noted before.

“Dust to Dust, for dust thou art, an’ to the dust thou shalt return… Ah-men!” His arms spread wide, his hands nearly touching the walls on either side of him with their vampire-like reach, each dangling a bayonet. She looked away from him and ripped the blade that held his head out of the wall, sliding the thing out of his skull tenderly, and then cradling it to her blood-soaked stomach, started moving away as fast as she could.

I have to run, I have to get out of here, I have to report to Hellsing… I have to… this is impossible, it’s just too much… Her thoughts were disintegrating in panic as those heavy footsteps came after her, that insane laugh sliding the air like one of the bayonets. She dug for more strength, shifting her grisly burden to one arm and ignoring the taunts from the Paladin tracking her. He seemed to be slow, but then she was still bleeding, leaving a trail a child could follow.

“Run little Draculina… such a mighty vampire yeh are!” She ignored him, seeing the door that had been kicked off its hinges, leaving a welcome exit to the outside. She reached out and then gasped as golden light crackled, burning her hand worse than the blessed bayonets had.

“What?! What… is this?” She asked, not expecting an answer, just muttering from human habit.

“This is a barrier, my child. A barrier no unholy bein’ can breach; not even yur accursed masteh could do it.” Anderson’s voice was almost tender for a moment before it filled with unholy glee once more. “Now then. Bow down and accept yer death, Abomination.”

She felt her eyes widen as her head turned, seeing creamy parchments along the walls, over every window, held in place with Anderson’s bayonets. She blinked and her vision shifted slightly; she could see the walls floor and ceiling were pulsing with golden light, shimmering prettily in its deadly intent.

She was utterly trapped with a monster wearing a man’s skin and a dismembered head in her arms. She was clutching his head like a child’s safety blanket as she felt her panic overwhelm her utterly, at last.

I am going to die… I’m going to die… I’m gonna die! True death, right now!

This is not the time to panic, Police Girl. She did not jump at the voice in her head, his voice, underlain with a rich chuckle. She looked down at the head in her arms and to her alarm it began to melt, slipping through her frantic hands before she dropped it in shock. The head went to nothing but liquid that started flowing about, quickly rearranging itself into words, scrawled cleanly across the wood in a smooth, archaic sort of lettering.

Drink my blood, Police Girl, and be freed of the thrall of servitude. You will truly become one of our Vampiric race. Drink of your own will, walk with your own strength, become one of the immortal kin of the night. Drink my blood, Police Girl… No, Seras Victoria!

She blinked at the message, and then felt the Paladin looming behind her. She literally had no time to drink, even if she had wanted to.

And she did not want to.

“It’s ovah, Abomination!” Anderson purred, as if he were telling her he loved her, not that he wanted her dead. She did not turn, but heard a click then bullets screaming towards him. She whirled around and saw a figure emerge from the shadows, smoke wreathing Sir Integra Hellsing’s face.

“That girl is mine.” Integra took a drag from the cigar clenched in her teeth and let the smoke drift loose from her lungs as she continued, “What are you trying to do here, Paladin Alexander Anderson?” The heiress tilted her head slightly, looking blandly curious as two men stepped up beside her, obviously brought along as bodyguards.

“Ah, Sir Integra Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing herself. I never expected the General to come to the frontlines herself.” Integra clamped her cigar in her teeth for a few seconds then growled.

“Father Anderson, you have already severely violated the treaty between our churches. This area falls under our jurisdiction, added to which we were asked to come and purify this house of education. I am asking you to leave immediately; if you refuse, then both of our churches might be imperiled! Never has Section XIII been so rash before!” Her words were reasonable, implying she was willing to forgive and forget. Yet…

She turned and bolted, ignoring the message written in blood on the floor. She found her gun, her worry, anger and grief giving her a second wind. She hurried back in time to see that the Paladin had not disappointed her expectations of him.

Integra’s guards were literally cut to pieces, their blood staining the air as well as the floor. Integra herself was holding Anderson barely at bay with her ancestral sword. She could just see Integra’s face from her angle; her defiant glare was heartening.

“Poor lit’le Protestant, yer losin’ an’ don’t even know’it. Yer pet vampire? I already cut off ‘is head; ‘e’s dead!”

She saw red at this, scrabbling in her pouch with numb fingers. She had to load her gun, quickly.

However Integra’s face made her ponder, her fingers slow. The smirk on Sir Hellsing’s face was oddly triumphant, and yet kind of cute too. Like a child who knows something the adults around it do not.

“You what? You cut off his head? Was that all?” Integra asked with her voice dripping acid. Anderson pulled back a hint, radiating confusion.

“Wha’ does that mean, Was that all? Vampires die when decapitated!” He reminded the Knight with a tone that implied he felt she had gone off her head. Just then her fingers grasped some shells and she slammed them deftly into the gun. She panted needlessly for air, her body soaked with sweat and blood, yet she stood with her legs spread, the gun steady in her hand.

“Let Sir Integra go now, you sick monster!” She hissed, not realizing her voice echoed everywhere, as if radiating from the walls themselves. Integra smirked wider as she released the safety and aimed at the Paladins head; any lower and the bullets would go through him and into Integra with fatal results for the Knight.

“You have no chance of winning now, Anderson. Retreat while you can count yourself lucky to be alive.” She drawled, her voice reflecting just how much she was enjoying his confusion.

“Shut up whore! Have yeh gone mad? I’m about to slaughter the both of yeh…”

“Well, hurry it up then, before that vampire you thought you killed comes back to life.” Integra said casually, still smirking superiorly, eyes still wide with that hint of mischief in them. Just then she heard something… like flapping, even as she waited for the order to fire. She knew Integra wanted to end this peaceably, but the urge to kill that monster was hard to fight off…

A bat fluttered by the window next to her. She could not help glancing at it, wondering what had caught the little thing’s attention… then realized it was inside the glass, and its tiny eyes were glowing red. “What the… seriously? A bat?!” she whispered.

Why didn’t you just drink the blood, you idiot? His voice sighed in her head. She blinked as the bat and about a billion more (Ok, maybe a few dozen but they were everywhere) attacked Anderson playfully. They swirled around him as he slashed his bayonets, tugging his hair, slapping into his back, easily avoiding his wild swinging arms.

“But Ah severed his ‘ead and stabbed his unbeating heart with silver!” Anderson complained, obviously confused and angry. Integra chuckled, arms crossing and shaking her head.

“Do not fool yourself into thinking he is a normal vampire. Normal techniques of silencing will never defeat him. He is the results of over one-hundred years of research and tempering…” The bats had been grouping closer and closer together, their shrill cries quieting as they started melding into a single mass, and that mass took a shape quickly.

His shape, more or less, resolving with a slightly different look. His jaw-length hair was now down to his knees, his gray suit was pitch black and seemed to be made of velvet instead of… whatever it normally was made of. His grin was aimed at Anderson, yet she saw it clearly, never more glad to see his mad eyes and Cheshire cat grin. He spread his arms, his hair lifting as if in a hurricane, then he let his arms fall, the red Inverness forming from what was left of the bats. She grinned happily, near sparkling with joy.

“Master!” She chirped. His eyes swung to hers and he winked before falling back to watching Integra and the Paladin. His motion was so fast she was sure that neither human had caught it.

“So, have you made up your mind, Father? Stay and be butchered or go as I asked oh so politely a moment ago?”

“Ah will go, after a wee test!” Anderson snapped and leapt at him, bayonets in hand. He did not dodge, but leaned forward and ran right into those silver blades. Suddenly he pulled up and both arms dropped off his body at the elbow. She gasped in worry at the sight. Anderson turned and smirked happily, ready to attack again, but was forced to pause

The arms suddenly… re-sprouted was the only way she could describe it. New arms shot out of the stumps left by the bayonets, not only perfectly formed, but with new coat sleeves and the Casull in his right hand. He lifted it as he swiveled on one heel, his free fingers flexing and making the most disgusting cracking sounds, as if he was forcing broken bones back into place. She breathed a soft sigh of relief.

“Well damn yer eyes…” Anderson muttered, shoving his glasses up his nose.

He nodded and grinned manically. “Yes, and the rest of me too.” Anderson snorted at the quip and then sighed.

“Ah will retreat fur now. Ah think Ah need to do some research and be better pr’pared afore Ah come back. Next time…” he pulled a massive bible from nowhere, there was no way his cassock had been hiding that thing, and flipped it open. The pages of the tome flew loose and whirled around him, shrinking tighter and tighter to his form before flying to a window, the glass exploding outwards as the pages flew away.

Quite a trick that. Further proof to her that he was far from human, closer to her kind than a man. She sagged suddenly, feeling weak as her adrenaline rush abruptly stopped. She turned her head as she heard footsteps, still on edge and half expecting the Paladin had returned for a last hurrah. But it was only Integra approaching her revived Trump Card, a small frown of concern between her smooth pale brows.

“What is it?”

“Ah nothing. It’s just been a while since I lost my head. So, that’s the infamous Father Anderson.” He said, voice a happy purr. Obviously he had had a grand time while she and Integra were being attacked and stabbed and…

Okay, Integra was probably just fine, but she felt like she had been run over and kicked and mauled.

“I am shocked by the blatant breach of our agreement. I will make the Vatican pay for this, and pay dearly.” Integra said, her voice oddly casual as she threatened one of the most powerful organizations in the world. “But now is not the time; while you two were purifying and getting your asses handed to you, I made some discoveries.”

She slid to her knees and cradled her gun, fighting dizziness that was making her nauseous. She felt her belly heave and crawled into a corner to lose her small supper of soup and water. She barely heard a disgusted sound from Integra.

“The girl… How well did she perform, Alucard?” Her head snapped up, vomiting forgotten as she eagerly awaited his verdict on her performance.

“Ah the Police Girl? She did okay, I guess. Not a performance worth awarding a medal for, but… yes, she did a decent job, and she is still alive. Barely.”

She fell over then swiftly jumped to her feet, chagrinned and also annoyed; she had to clear something up that was really bothering her. Bravely she lifted a hand and snapped, “Master!” To her worried delight he swiveled on his heel and peered at her.

“Hmmm? Yes Police Girl?”

So far so good.

“Um, sir that’s just it… You see, my name, it is not Police Girl. It’s Seras, Seras Victoria.” His eyes narrowed as he started to turn away, face descending into his upturned collar.

“Do be quiet. Little cowards do not deserve names, and so you are Police Girl, and Police Girl you will be.” She gaped at him then sagged sadly.

“You’re so mean! I call you Master as I should, but you…” She almost sniffled.

“Why did you make her? It’s so…” Integra said softly, eyes on her; she could just feel her cool blue stare.

“Why? Who can tell… It was her choice, not mine. Maybe I did it for sport… or because I was curious… Maybe, after all this time among your family, your fellow humans, I am developing a sense of whimsy…” He replied, pitching his voice so Integra could hear him.

“Police Giiiiiiiirrrrrrrrrrrrl, Don’t dawdle!” he called, his voice almost warm, certainly cheerful. She looked up and saw his long hand waving for her to follow him. She hopped to her feet, exhaustion forgotten as she darted past Integra, who was musing with a hint of confusion in her eyes.

“Such a strange answer… still I suppose I should not expect less from an UnDead King… or a Count.” The Knight’s chuckle was amused as she pounded after him, not really paying attention to the conversation between the Knight and her King.
- 1
- 2
- 3
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

No Time For Regrets I - Seras