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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
- 2
- 3
Quick note: I have been combining the Manga and the Anime in some respects. Some scenes that were used in Ultimate rather than what was outline in the Manga were funny or poignant enough that I preferred them, so I used them instead. Nonetheless I am working hard at making this cannon as it were, mainly using the Manga.
Reviews are welcome... ratings are nice but feedback is also great you know?

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She had gotten up and braved the sun to have some supper. The bread she tried actually was not bad this time, she also enjoyed the butter which was not as rich as before, and yet she was already tired of soups. However, she knew without even trying that anything more solid than very soft bread and soup was simply beyond her ability to swallow. Hell she could barely even stand the smell of vegetables, though the lingering sent of blood in meat made it more appealing. However her belly let her know with its thrashing about inside her, that if she dared to put even a tiny sliver of any meat into her mouth, she would be very unhappy with the result.

After supper she had retired to the Library, which was comfortingly dark and cool and smelled so heavenly with the lingering scent of polish and lemons and paper and old leather. She had been working on Dracula, carefully reviewing what surely were real documents; hand written journal pages attached behind type-written transcriptions. Newspaper articles on paper that was holding up well, but still made her nervous to handle. Photographs, some portraits done before the events of the book had unfurled, some during that timeframe, and some taken after the events, which she was surprised to discover happened in 1885, not 1892 as most speculated (According to the little introduction written by hand and tucked into the front cover of the folio.)

Only one player’s image was absent, the one player who for obvious reasons interested her the most. That Dracula had been photographed was a surprise; weren’t Vampires not able to be photographed? Then again she could see herself in a mirror, a myth she had heard before thus shattered.

She was nearing the end and making notes. By now, there were addendums more and more often; location names had been changed to protect the people who lived where the climax of the tale happened. Mina Harker was far more obviously involved with and working for Dracula than the published work made her out to be. And Abraham Van Hellsing had obliquely made some sort of plans for Dracula that did not involve killing him. However he was expressing doubts about the fate of Mina Harker if he did let the Prince live…

Prince? Oh yes, the real Dracula was not a count but a prince in Romania… She turned to her notes. No, at the time he ruled Wallachia, later absorbed into Romania along with Transylvania. In fact Romania was born not long before Dracula tried to flee to England. Maybe he had wanted out of the new country he suddenly inhabited.

She sighed and decided to get away from the sunlight for a while. It was overcast true, but she was feeling a bit like she was getting a sunburn, her skin tight and a little hot. She carefully put the journals and whatnot away, wistfully wanting to see Dracula’s picture, then trudged towards the stairs. Walter slid into place behind her, making her nervous.

“Walter Sir, can I help you?”
“Oh yes, I was hoping to show you something we have done for you. It’s in your rooms.” He did not sound very excited or happy about this thing. That made her even more nervous.

When she saw the change she went stiff with rage.

There was a coffin on her floor. A pretty coffin, certainly, made of dark hard wood, and lined with silk not satin, complete with a pillow. But she was horrified by the idea of sleeping in a damn coffin.

“What. Is. This.” She rasped. Walter peered over her shoulder at the box.

“Oh this? This is a coffin.”

“What. Is. This. Coffin. Doing. In. My. Room!?” The rasp was now a hiss.

“Oh well, Sir Integra ordered this for you. How can a Vampire not sleep in a coffin? She said. Yes that’s was exactly what she said.” She glared at him then looked around the room wincing.

“And just where is my bed?” Walter bowed politely; always a bad sign during such a scene, as she had learned in the past week.

“I have already had it removed of course.” Her wail of denial shook the room, making dust fall from the stone ceiling. Walter was un-amused, though not angry. He was annoyingly unflappable sometimes, and now was a good example. Her growls did not intimidate him in the slightest.

“Furthermore, Alucard also insisted upon this change.” That gave her pause.

“Master… ordered me to sleep in a coffin? But… but why?” She found her anger was gone, a sinking feeling of being browbeaten into acceptance taking its place, even though it was just Walter relaying the news gently. She should be glad he had not come and forced her inside he cursed thing himself at bed time.

“You have been a vampire for a while now, but have never drunk a drop of blood. He warned that if you do not sleep in this coffin, you will grow weaker and weaker.” He paused, and she drooped. Great. Damned if she did drink, cursed if she did not. She shook her head and eyed the admittedly pretty coffin. It gleamed in the soft lighting of her room. Still it was rather disturbing and it looked kind of small and lonely, just like she felt most of the time.

“Miss Seras, may I ask why you do not drink it? Do you not like it? I understand if you do not wish to kill for it, but we have a fine supply of the donated blood, humanely gathered and even paid for. It is ethically clean Seras.” Her eyes darkened and she drooped, sighing needlessly.

“I don’t know. It just feels like, if I drink it, I will lose something… and it will be lost forever. I don’t know what it is, it frightens me to jut give it up.” There was silence for a moment as both she and Walter digested this statement.

“She is so different… fascinating.” Walter said softly, musing and probably not intending for her to hear it. She felt a little hint of acceptance for her in his thought though and it heartened her somewhat.

“Useless little fool.” His voice suddenly filled the room even though it was not loud. Walter’s head turned leisurely as he appeared in the doorway. She gulped, chagrined.

“If this is so, why did you drink my blood, let me drink yours to begin with? You could have died with this precious thing intact and not endangered as you feel it is now.

“Instead you chose the path of darkness. The night is part of your soul, and it demands a price for that merging. Listen Police Girl, once you set off on the journey into the darkness, you cannot return to the sun…”

She hunched slightly, his words like a physical blow. She bit her lower lip gently, not puncturing herself this time, and her eyes fixed on him, filled with a soft accusation. He had not explained anything to her that night. However that was not entirely his fault; there had been simply been no time. She had been dying far too fast for a discussion of the impacts, ethics and practicalities of becoming a vampire. Still… she had read in Van Hellsing’s reports that vampires can read minds and blood. He had to have seen what she was, who he was making into one of his own. And he had not ended his transformation.

He had made her this, and for the first time, she wondered why. It had to have been more than guilt for killing her in the line of duty. Why then was he berating her for her choices, then and now? He eyed her, his head turning to the side a little, and she was surprised to see he was biting his lower lip as well.

“Forget it. Now and then a vampire like you rises. It does not bother me, so go ahead and tip-toe along with baby steps.” He said, eyes flicking to Walter. Walter shifted a bit and she heard the butler’s skin scrape his shirt as he nodded, accepting some sort of silent admonition. She smiled a little then nodded, relieved. She knew that if he wanted to, he could make her life hell, force her to drink, even kill her, yet he was sanctioning her to grow into things at her own pace. Her gratitude was immense, making her cheeks flush like the palest pink roses, and her blue eyes glow… like his did.

“Yes, Master. I understand, and I will learn. I will try.” The smallest smile curved over his thin, sensual lips at this, and she felt a tiny touch to her cheek, as if a ghostly hand was stroking her skin. Then Walter spoke and it was gone.

“By the way Alucard, I have completed your request.” The butler smirked wickedly as his red eyes lit with interest.

“Oh? Have you really? So quickly, I am most curious.” She came and stood behind him, peering around his left shoulder as Walter produced a large pistol case from somewhere.

“I was going to bring this to you…” Walter grunted; the case seemed to be heavy. He set it on the table and opened it smoothly, without flourish. A flourish would have been useless; the gun inside was an eye catcher as it was and needed no frills to introduce it.

It was black as night, and was half again bigger than the .454. There was a fine scrawling lettering along the barrel that said “Jesus Christ Is In Heaven Now” with a cross etched behind the words; testament to his lack of reaction to holy things. She remembered suddenly that Paladin Anderson’s right glove had the same saying on it. She felt her eyes widen with amazement; she wanted to play with it immediately.

“And this is?” he drawled, though she could hear his barely restrained delight in his voice as he watched Walter lift the gun with some effort. The butler was wiry and strong, but even so his muscles bulged under his immaculate shirt as he hefted the gun one handed and slammed the equally black clip included in the case home with a surprisingly soft click.

“Our new 13mm pistol. It is a radically different design from the .454 we previously designed for you. It weights 16 kilograms, is 39cm long, and carries six bullet clips. No human could wield this weapon; it would break that humans arm if they could even squeeze the trigger at all. We’ve named it the Jackal.” Walter laboriously flipped the gun in his hand so he could take it, his fingers lifting it like it was a child’s toy. His face was for once not mocking or ironic, but filled with open wonder.

“It uses 13mm armor piercing rounds…”

“The casing?” he asked casually.

“A special alloy we’ve designed, using gold among other things.”

“Gunpowder?” His eyes were glowing ever brighter as the gun’s properties were offered to him.

“Macedonian NNA9 formula” Walter said smoothly, though his face showed that he was pleased with the reaction to the gun so far.

“And the bullets?” He had not moved a millimeter, standing posed with the gun aimed at the wall, his arm not even quivering under the strain of the massive weight of the gun. It did weigh as much as a human toddler, in a far smaller package, after all.

“A unique and blessed amalgam, including silver of course.” He purred like some great beast, radiating pleasure and the lust for the hunt. It was obvious he was madly in love it Jackal.

“It’s perfect Walter. Utter perfection!” The butler smiled and bowed.

“I am pleased with your approval. I do my best.”

He lifted Jackal close to his face and hummed. “I am betting that even Anderson cannot handle my new toy.” His smile was near bloodcurdling. She moved closer, eyes wide; oh she wanted one of these too! She unknowingly bounced on her toes, hands held away from her sides, as the urge to grab it was almost too much to resist. He’d certainly be pissed if she tried. She pondered his statement.

“Really Master, do you think so? Is it that magical then?” He chuckled and nodded.

“Nothing I shoot with this will ever rise again, not even The Thing from Iscariot, Police Girl.” She smiled up at him, little realizing her face reflected his bloodthirsty grin perfectly. He seemed to take pleasure in her enjoyment of his new toy, even crooning his approval under his breath too softly for Walter to hear. However the butler’s voice broke into their reverie over the Godly Jackal.

“I took the liberty of designing something for you as well. The 50mm was just not… dignified enough for you, Miss Seras.” She blinked; she was getting a gun too? Was it a companion to the Jackal?! Oh goody! That’s right, they had said they would watch her and create a weapon for her based on her performances and personality!

She bounced eagerly as Walter bent behind the table. She heard a grunt beside her, ignoring it and the fact that her bountiful breasts were bouncing with her. She was outlandishly curved, and often forgot this fact. He leaned slightly closer to her, smirking oddly. She glanced at him and assumed that he was pleased with her eagerness for a better weapon; on this point they were in utter agreement. They both loved guns. His eyes were hidden though, so she was not sure what that expression was, why he licked his lips like he was thirsty. Maybe because he was thirsty?

Walter struggled with a huge case, half again longer than her table was, groaning and panting once it was laid out. Unless they were giving her eight Jackals, and somehow she doubted that, this was possibly a Gatling gun, or a tank cannon or… Whatever it was had to be huge and heavy.

Walter cleared his throat and smiled so chillingly, yet with such pride, it was kind of scary to see. “This is a 30mm cannon designed to eliminate every form of undead known to man; the Harkonnen. It has two types of rounds; depleted Uranium rounds, and explosive rounds, for punching through walls or tanks, any armor or aircraft would never repel these shells.” He slung the gun out with a huge effort and stood the butt end on the ground. The gun was massive, longer than Walter was tall; and Walter towered over her by nearly a foot. Even he was shorter than this… this…

“What the bloody hell is this thing?!” She shouted suddenly, pointing with one hand while waving the other around like she was having a fit. Maybe she was having a stroke from shock; could vampires have strokes?! How could she possibly… carry this monster? It had to weigh over fifty kilos!

She felt his hand on her shoulder very briefly, patting her soothingly with his warm fingers, which lingered for few seconds against her neck. She swore he twirled a lock of hair around his finger, low on the nape of her neck but then his hand was gone.

“Actually Police Girl, I think it is as perfect for you as Jackal is for me. Plus Walter is correct, that ugly thing you’ve been carrying is beneath you. You need a beauty like this in your arms.” She felt her skin tingle and looked up at him curiously. Odd… she had the distinct impression he was not talking about guns…

Walter launched into more talk about their new weapons, explaining the foundry process, what mix was used for the projectiles, how he had designed Jackal himself, and hand poured the bullets for it, how pleased he was with Sir Integra’s design for Harkonnen…

“Sir Integra? She designed this gun for me? But… why is it so big then? I mean another girl must realize I am dwarfed by the thing! Girls want nice guns, can’t I have a Jackal too?” She paused then grinned nervously. “Not that I am not grateful! I mean I am, it’s an amazing gun but…” Walter chuckled.

“I do believe she is living vicariously through you, Miss Seras. She can only watch as those under her have the fun. Plus, in some situations she might need Alucard in the field and you here to defend the Manor. Who better to protect her and how better to equip you than with anti-aircraft capabilities, just in case? Since Iscariot seems to be declaring war upon Hellsing…”

She chewed her lip again, crossing one arm under her breasts and resting the other hand on her cheek. Well, he had a point. Still, she would love to have some nice, kick-ass pistols as back up. She felt his body heat suddenly as he loomed behind her. She looked up; with him this close she really had to flex her neck, though she felt no strain doing so as she would have as a human. He was looking down at her with a shockingly warm smile. She smiled back; she could not help it. His smiling at her so was so rare, she basked in it.

It truly is perfect for you. And there is truth in Walter’s theory. Master loves guns like you and I do and she really never gets to kill ghouls as often as she wants to. She hates the fools that rise in the night to attack innocents. It soothes her soul to kill those who threaten her county and its citizens. Be honored by her gift.

She nodded, brightening a bit; yes, she had to admit, despite its size, she did love it. It called to her. She felt the urge to cuddle it like a teddy bear.

Suddenly she heard gunfire, faintly. She frowned as he slid his glasses down his nose, his eyes boring into hers, yet they were also unfocused as if he were concentrating very hard on something else. She felt his mind doing something to her; her third eye opened wider (It had never really closed once she had opened it) and it was as if she were not in her body anymore. Amorphous she flew up the stairs and saw…

Ghouls everywhere. They were armed and carried huge shields, their hollow eyes and gaping jaws barely visible above them. Hellsing’s soldiers were valiantly fighting them but they were losing; whatever the shields and helmets the ghouls wore were made of was too strong for the standard bullets the men used while on the grounds. No one had ever anticipated an attack by the undead here, at their headquarters. What a mistake!

She gasped, her vision splitting as it were. She still saw the fighting, but also saw him staring at her. She realized he was carrying her disembodied self, taking her with him as they explored the carnage. She felt Walter turn towards them, but he did not speak, sensing Master and Fledgling were involved in something he dare not disturb.

“Walter, the house is under attack. I suspect someone leaked the news about the Conference to our ambitious enemy.” He drawled as if unconcerned by the devastation occurring above. Walter gasped then nodded. She saw a door on the third floor which they moved through; Sir Integra sat at the head of a long table, many men she had never seen before sitting around it and staring at her as she held a phone to her ear. The Hellsing tapped a code into the keypad and then they were back fully in their bodies. She felt a hint dizzy, and blinked her eyes. Then the phone in her room rang.

Walter immediately answered. “Yes, I am here. I am in Officer Victoria’s rooms in the basement, and Alucard has explained the situation to me. He and Seras are here as well. I assume all communication lines are broken and it will take at least five hours for back up to arrive. We must protect the meeting room until then.” She heard Integra gasp.

“How do we do this Walter?” The Knight’s voice was tinny through the phone, but she heard it easily.

“Simply block the passageway, hold them at bay. There is only the one door, luckily. We will commence a surprise attack.”

“How will you get here? There are ghouls everywhere, the whole house is overrun!” Despite her words, Integra sounded rather calm; instead of panic, rage shook her voice, not fear.

“Have you forgotten? It has been ten years however… How did you find Alucard then, ten years ago?” That statement baffled her; what did it mean? How did Integra find him? Why had she had to find him? Wasn’t he always just here?

“You mean… though the vents?” The rage faded slightly, a slight tinge of hope and wonder in the Hellsing’s voice now.

“Yes. Wait a few moments, Sir Integra. We will be right there.” She heard a deep breath being sucked into furious lungs.

“Walter, those bastards have eaten my men. Do not show them mercy! Do not let even one of them get out of here alive!” Integra’s voice was a furious purr, more frightening than any roar of rage. Walter smirked with smug, unholy joy.

“Of course, Sir Integra. Of course.” The line clicked off. She heard him start to chuckle behind her.

“Oh how I have wished to see the Angel of Death unfurl his wings once more! To see Walter release his ruthlessness again… it will be a fun night indeed.”

“Um, what are you saying? Angel of Death? Walter, ruthless? Seriously?” She blurted.

“You will see for yourself soon enough.” She turned to eye Walter, who looked surprisingly dangerous. His gray eyes were sparkling with something that made her skin crawl.

“I may be an old man, but I do have some tricks up my sleeves, Miss Seras.” She frowned; what the hell was going on?

“Is there not one normal person in this place?” She muttered before sensing that he had left, taking Jackal and its clips with him, leaving her with Walter, and her new gun.

“Now Miss Seras. Let us get to it.” Walter said briskly, moving the table under the vent in the ceiling. “Grab the gun and the ammo cases please, and hop up. You should lead the way as I do not carry a firearm.” She nodded, for once not hesitating. She felt a strange rage sweep over her; someone had invaded her home, threatened her Mistress, killed her comrades. Her vision tinged with red.

She would make them pay for this, pay dearly, as Sir Integra said of the Vatican.

She gathered her old service pistol, her personal 9mm, the Harkonnen and its ammo cases, then jumped lightly to the tabletop. She stared at the vent for a few seconds. Jump or climb with her burden?

Jump. Trust.

She jumped and then paused again, the Harkonnen light as a feather yet a little awkward, slung over her back via a strap it never would have had if humans were lugging it about. Which way?

Follow your Eye.

She set off crawling quickly in the direction that felt right, amazed at how clean the vents were. She heard a grunt of approval from Walter as he followed her, closing her vent behind them, just in case.

“Why is Master not coming?” She asked quietly. Walter puffed slightly, crawling behind her with amazing speed.

“He is supposed to be coming through the house, but I do not hear his guns. Maybe he sensed something he had to investigate first.”

“Well damn. We’ll just have to do this alone, somehow.” She was a little nervous, but also still pissed all to hell. She wanted to flatten a head under her boot again.

No, no I don’t! What the hell is this? I just want to save who I can, and silence the enemy, right? I do not want to rip them to shreds with my bare hands! I don’t!

It was a very short time, all things considered, to make their way up to the third floor. Walter followed her without question, to her great pleasure. He trusted her vampiric instincts more than she did. She heard several voices, one frantic male, one calm and utterly dignified male, and one Sir Integra’s. She shoved the grating below her hand and it sung down on a hinge. She moved to drop down feet first, but somehow got a bit tangled. She giggled, oddly finding the fact that her derriere was dangling into the room quite funny, before her body, without orders or warning, folded itself impossibly and she fell square onto one of the men’s faces with a squeal. His chair toppled back, her rump firmly planted on his face as they landed with a thud. She was not dislodged, but was a bit startled, sitting on him and rubbing her head.

“Hello Sir Integra, sorry if we’re late…” Integra had quickly folded her hands over her chin and lips, but she could hear a most untimely and utterly feminine giggle come from the Knight’s lips anyway. She smiled wanly at the Hellsing, who took advantage of the fact all the other occupants in the room were staring at the odd image she made sitting on one of their number’s faces, to wink at her young vampire.

She felt displaced air and looked up as Walter landed hands first on the table, then sprang away with incredible grace, landing beside her. He bowed to Integra, mumbling an apology for their tardiness, and then turned and offered her a hand.

“Are you all right Officer Victoria?” He was as amused as his Mistress, obviously. She smiled and took his hand. Yes, she should stand, the man’s nose was poking her behind rather painfully now, and his huffing for air was making her nervous as he puffed against her skirt.

“Oh yes thank you, I am fine.” She was hauled to her feet; okay there might be something about this stuff, saying Walter had tricks up his sleeve. Tricks like incredible strength and agility… and that bloodlust in his eyes. She shuddered slightly; if that look was ever turned upon her, she would run screaming.

“So, Walter, what is the situation?” Integra asked. She carefully bent and helped the hapless man to his feet, righting his chair which she sensed he could not have lifted by himself; it was old English oak and very heavy… well for him it would be. She lifted it with one hand and helped him sit, smiling apologetically.

“Are you all right Sir?” She had been briefed about this conference; all of these men were Knights of the Round Table and the British Empire, a secret group determined to protect England and her Majesty from any and all supernatural threats, as well as anything that fell outside the broad yet not utter coverages of MI5 & MI6. Some acts of terrorism planned by humans were handled by this group, as well as the eradication of the Undead, Werewolves, Zombies, Ghouls and the newest threat, Freaks. She remembered her briefing on this new problem…

Integra had sat her down herself to brief her on this new development, not trusting her Trump Card to explain it well, and not wanting Walter to downplay the dangers of this new plague so she would not be afraid or not fully prepared. They had enjoyed some tea while the Knight smoked a cigar, her voice quiet, calm, yet redolent of anger and worry.

“We have discovered that we are fighting a new species of vampire, Seras.” She had nodded, pleased that Sir Integra used her name and not Police Girl. “You see, I had been wondering for a little while about something strange that started a little before you joined us. It seemed odd, that sometimes, even after Alucard silenced the vampire at the heart of a ghoul attack, the ghouls did not die. This rule is carved in stone for your kind; ghouls are animated and controlled by the vampire that creates them. Alucard has explained that vampires have souls, they are just tainted with darkness…”

She felt her face freeze. Tainted? With Evil? Her soul was damned? But… she had not harmed anyone ever in life or unlife! That was so unfair! Integra paused and to her amazement reached her hand across her desk to rest her cool gloved fingers on the distraught vampires.

“Oh Seras, no. I did not mean… Please listen more closely. Alucard did not, nor did I say that vampire souls are tainted with evil. He said darkness and that is what he meant. Your nature is not evil, Seras. We spout about how evil your kind are… but I suspect that despite the magical abilities, the things your race can do, that you are simply another creature under God. Everyone has darkness within, even animals can do horrible, unnecessary and cruel things to each other. It is a choice, being evil. You have a choice to be good or to do evil… and I have faith you will choose wisely.”

She nodded, heartened but still afraid. “I understand, thank you Sir. Please, continue?” she waved at the covered Petri dish on the desk, which Integra kept touching who not revealing like some nervous bird pecking at the same spot over and over, seeking and not finding something it wanted.

“Good.” Integra seemed pleased with her calm acceptance of her pep talk, and her eagerness to learn. “As I said, vampires have souls. When they are killed, those bitten and infected but not completely turned can be released from that vampire’s control. Any ghouls made by that vampire will die, often going to ash even if the ghoul is only minutes old. So when my men reported that they had seen ghouls continue to shuffle about after Alucard had destroyed their creator, I thought they were crazy, or mistaken… Maybe they had the timing wrong. No one is perfect after all. They might have thought he was done with his part when he was not.

“However. As this had happened only twice before you joined us, I thought it was a fluke, or we had not found the right vampire, the true sire of the ghouls we were cleaning. Maybe they were working together, one making ghouls to back up the other? Odd but not impossible.” She took a deep drag of tobacco and held it before letting it trickle from her lips. Her eyes were far away, her voice soft and wondering.

“When we sent you to Ireland, we were lucky enough to have security cameras, running on generator, to film the whole event. Due to how I suspect you feel about that evening, I will not show you the footage, but it was final, conclusive proof that the men were right. Paladin Anderson had killed the vampires, two of them, before you and Alucard were finished with their ghouls.”

“So, even though Father Anderson had killed those vampires, the ghouls did not die as they should have?” She asked. The whole Ghoul vs Vampire thing was still new to her.

“Correct. I asked my Vatican attaché to request Anderson’s report for his superiors. Though he did not mention it at the time, he did express later some confusion and concern about the fact that he could hear gunfire for several minutes after he had silenced the vampires upstairs. He explored the entire top floor, as Alucard had the bottom floor; neither found another vampire on the premises.

“I had a feeling about this, so I had the cleaning team gather everything, every body part, every speck of ash, ghoul or vampire that they could find. Their efforts were rewarding.” She watched Integra pull the Petri dish closer and using some very long tweezers, lift a strange silicon chip from its bed of some sort of solid gel. Integra looked at it with distaste.

“This chip is one of approximately twelve found among the vampire ashes. We’re not close to unraveling them, but we know this. They are transmitters, probably meant to track and monitor the vampire they are implanted in. They contain minute amounts of an organic material, which we are trying to sequence DNA from even now. I suspect that the organic material is vampiric.

“Seras. You must be prepared; I suspect that the vampire you destroyed that first night, and the ghouls in Ireland are connected. Two vampires were at both infestations, though the couple you and Alucard silenced had not made ghouls; thanks to their lust for violence, they had mangled their victims too badly for them to rise. Both incidents had a couple involved; both couples had been trouble makers who delighted in delinquency. I suspect they were recruited, that the enemy has found out how to make a vampire artificially.”

She gasped in horror and disgust. Her pride for what she was, and she did feel pride about it, was writhing in rage. Making vampires artificially? Meaning these fools had no Master as she did, had no teachers, were simply found, made without any initiation, and then set loose like plague rats? Her lips rippled in an incensed snarl, which made Integra smile wickedly.

“Yeeeeeeees, Alucard did exactly the same thing when I told him, and for the same reasons I suspect. You must be sure to destroy every ghoul you can find at any future incursions, Seras. These ghouls can infect with their bites, but they can only make new ghouls. They are, as you have seen, often shuffling about with weaponry now, which is also new. Usually they could actually be ignored since felling their maker stopped them. Herding them along, or simply shooting them as they came at you was simple; not anymore.

“Do not fail Her Majesty, England or me, Officer Seras Victoria. You will Search and Destroy all Midians, created or natural as it were. Is that clear?”

She jumped to her feet fluidly and saluted. “Yes Sir, I will do as you command!” Integra nodded and saluted back, a rare thing.

“Dismissed. I will have reports for you to read soon. Please do your best to explain what they contain to Alucard. The only technological terms he really understands or cares about is gunsmithing and the properties of blood. But he will need to understand as much as any of us what we are dealing with. He is old, and the old hate changes.” She blinked at this; he could not understand scientific reports? How odd. She nodded and left…

Now she listened with half an ear as Integra and Walter made plans, focusing when they asked her to help barricade the doors better. She had no issues with the heavy furniture, shoving massive hardwood armoires and desks and sideboards against the oak doors. Walter outlined his plan for her, making her worry instantly.

“You’re what? You’re just going out there? Alone!? With me in the doorway here with cover fire? Walter are you mad?!” She hissed, eyes wide. Integra merely chuckled. One of the men stood and nodded his head at her respectfully. His energy and expression made her feel like she was in the presence of a king somehow.

“I am Sir Islands, Officer Victoria. Let me assure you, Mr. Dornez is fully capable of handling this, with little assistance from you. Whatever is left when he is finished you can handle easily with your bloody great cannon there. Now, please help us move the table so we may present a unified front to the invaders in the unlikely case they break through your assault.” She stood straighter, his authority comforting and crushing at once. He reminded her of Sir Integra times a hundred.

Once more she shoved furniture about, having to move not only the table but all the chairs as well, as it turned out they were so heavy that it usually took two people to move them so the cleaning staff could vacuum the carpet under them. Once she had the table set up on its side behind them, their chairs, turned to the door, Walter nodded and slipped off through the small crack she had been ordered to leave for him. She resolutely walked to her new gun and moved to lay it on its bi-pod, then waited. Walter would give a signal, or he would fall and she was to shoot to kill anything and everything in the hallway.

It did not take long actually. She heard footsteps, and then a slender young man appeared, wearing a black track suit and strange knit beanie. He was muttering vile threats to Sir Integra, bringing that tint of red to her vision again as rage tap-danced down her spine. Yet she waited, as the man and his frightful companions strode further into view.

They stood in amazingly orderly formation considering that they were ghouls, who normally could barely shuffle along upright, much less behave so alert and orderly. As they came into view, a door opened, and Walter emerged, looking relaxed and almost happy. The young man paused, the ghouls following suit, all of them seeming wary, though reading a ghouls expression was a pointless exercise. Then she distinctly heard a strange hissing whine, just before the cigar the man had been smoking (filched from Sir Integra’s office no doubt) suddenly fell away as if cut cleanly but something invisible. For a split second, the man merely blinked in confusion. Then the ghoul to his left split in half, making a mess as it collapsed. The man was good; he only turned his eyes to watch the gory display.

“Oh my, I missed? I suppose it makes sense, being that I am not as spry as I used to be.” Walter mused, his form in shadow, his voice gently mocking. She blinked herself; what on earth had just happened? She could smell something, like silver and… something else, and hear that soft hissing as if something large but nearly invisible was writhing in the air. Her third eye opened even wider; yes there it was. Arching and writhing from Walter’s fingertips were wires, now singing a song of violence as he casually strode towards the man.

“Jan Valentine was it not? I am Walter C. Dornez, the Hellsing Family butler, former Elite Trashman for Hellsing and Her Majesty and her Majesty’s Father the King. Now that introductions are over…” he swung his arm over his head, the wires utterly obvious now that she had seen them once.

Jan Valentine snapped his fingers with a look of boredom on his face. “Fire.” He said simply; his voice even when he spoke the one word was utterly disrespectful. However, she saw Walter move like lightning, shifting to the side of the hallway so the bullets screamed past him as the ghouls mindlessly and inaccurately shot straight ahead of them. Her eyes followed him, but even so she knew most humans would have lost sight of Walter by now. She wondered if Jan could see him, or if he was as new as she, and being from the enemy, without a master, a teacher… as she waited, the ghouls around Jan had no idea what was happening as Walter easily wound the wires around their heads.

“Too slow. It’s clever, using ghouls as an army. They are tough, obedient, and do not feel pain. But a ghoul is just a ghoul. They are slow, stupid, and thus vulnerable. These have a long way to go before they are worth the expense of arming them.” He tugged on the wires, which suddenly were much easier to see, due to all the blood staining them as the ghouls were sliced to ribbons. Every one was expertly destroyed, heads lopped off necks, chests cut across their undead hearts, every one of them showing a faint shock on their faces as they fell, truly dead, to the ground.

Gracious they would need to replace carpets and sand floors for weeks to clean this up.

“So… I highly recommend pissing yourself, followed by some prayers to your impotent god. Then I suggest cowering as you await inevitable death.” Walter said, his voice starting as an ironic purr but dropping into a very threatening growl by the end. Yet Jan Valentine was either too stupid to cringe… or he had something up his tacky sleeves.

He began to laugh, a laugh so insane, so mindlessly gruesome that she shivered. His laugh might be crazy sometimes, but he was not just a thing wallowing in death for death’s sake. His killing had purpose, and was merciful in the end.

Jan’s actions were filled with nothing but aimless desires to do violence in as many ways, to as many people as he could.

She shivered as an absolute lust to destroy him came over her. Yet she could not; she had her orders. He was a Freak, and they needed him alive for questioning. She sure hoped she could watch it too. She would have relished such a scene even if she were still human, she would have enjoyed watching her masters make Jan scream…

Jan nodded frantically. “You’re just in time old man. I was so damn bored I was gonna a cry. At least you were a few seconds of fun!” he moved with vampiric speed, slipping backwards as the ghouls left behind him lifted their shields and poked very large caliber guns out of their phalanx. While they were still aimed dead ahead, they would also cause huge damage to the walls and to Walter.

“Miss Victoria? Fire at will.” Walter said casually, as if an army of undead was not advancing, safety’s being clicked off their guns, all stomping right at him.

“Got it Walter, Sir.” She said firmly, though her stomach suddenly felt full of butterflies. She squeezed off the round in her chamber with amazing results.

The projectile hit the first ghoul on Jan’s right and punched through it… and the next eight behind it, their bodies ashing instantly. She felt her jaw drop in shock. “What the hell?!”

“Second shot! Switch to grenade launcher, use the type VI grenades!” Walter cut into her reverie of amazement.

“Roger that!’ She snapped, vision growing ever more red as moments passed. She released the barrel, her expended shell flying out and still smoking as she grabbed the required grenade, slamming it home in a split second. She heard Walter whistle for some reason, distracting Jan. The Freak was obviously easily drawn off by shiny things.

She fired this round even more devastating than the first; those ghouls still alive were far too damaged to be a threat any longer. But she ignored them anyway. Jan was moving, headed for Walter, who was safely in a doorway. Jan whipped two rather large guns out. There was an explosion of sorts, the dust clearing quickly to reveal Walter standing calmly, his back to Jan who was taunting him despite the impressive display of speed Walter had made, avoiding the small explosion Jan had set off.

She was on her feet instantly. She was behind Jan so fast even his preternatural eyes and ears did not catch it. She grabbed his wrist from behind him, jerked his arm straight up, slung her other arm around his neck in a choke-hold, then swiped his feet from under him, gracefully letting him fall with her riding him down like a child on a sled. She landed on his back and rolled him a bit so he was face out, and utterly subdued.

Instantly Jan went into a diatribe both loud and crass. She ignored him, trying not to breathe his scent; he smelled of graves, rot and blood and cheap gin. Ugh.

“Are you all right Walter?” She asked casually, as if she were not holding a flailing Freak in her tender arms, and Walter had not nearly been blown up.

“Oh I am fine, but I really cannot compare to the skills of my youth anymore. By the way, where did you learn this submission move? It was beautifully executed.” She beamed under the praise.

“Walter, I was a cop, assigned to special forces before I came here.” Walter nodded with an apologetic smile; she smiled back as Jan wriggled and flailed, but fell silent for a few blessed seconds before speaking in a frustrated but curious tone.

“So wait a second, Bitch! You’re a vampire?! We never heard nothing about a new crew of yah at Hellsing…” He panted as she said nothing in reply, both of them eyeing Walter as he stepped closer. He looked a bit pissed.

“So, what was the objective here? I somehow doubt you could have created such a large army with just your own pathetic skills and resources. Who is pulling the sad little puppet’s strings?” Jan snickered and looked up with his crazy yellow eyes. She had noticed in passing that he did not have red eyes, but doubted that his eyes were naturally yellow. She could smell the blood and death on him, he had feasted with his ghouls, so why were his eyes not changed? Her eyes would stay blue until she drank of her own free will, or so she had been told.

“If yah kiss my arse, I’ll tell you, old man… whatcha say?” Walter had nothing to say actually; he was in motion instantly, his boot-heel crashing down onto Jan’s left hand like a jackhammer. Even human ears could have heard all the bones crunch, even over Jan’s yip of shocked pain.

“I will ask again. If you do not answer it will be your other hand and so on.” Jan pouted then sighed.

“Fine, fine. We have two jobs. One is to destroy the Round Table, every last of the thirteen members! Two is to waste Alucard! And damn but you have made it all so easy!” She tightened her grip on his neck, pulling his head back painfully. Walter looked worried.

“You said… we have two jobs…?” Jan began to laugh again, making her skin crawl. She could feel the evil in his soul, making her feel terrible, yet comforted. Integra was right, Darkness is not Evil. Her soul was safe, for now.

“Ha, ha, ha, fuuuuuuuck yeah! You see, right now my Big Bro is fightin’ Alucard. Hell, he probably killed Big Red’s ass already!”

Walter looked stunned but she snorted in disgust. As if. He would never, ever be brought low by these Freaks. Never

“Who sent you, and were are you from? Who made you an undead freak?” He asked tightly, smoothing his deadly gloves over his fingers.

“Seriously? Are you fucking serious? I already told yah geezer. I am the leader of the Hellsing Elimination Team. Me, Jan Valentine! We were made to get rid of you. That’s why we’re here, duh! And you all can go to fucking hell! Especially this bitch and that Integra broad!” She muttered at him, dearly wanting to snap his neck; from what she had read, broken necks healed in vampires, but they were not sure what Freaks could endure. Their tolerances were all over the map, some higher, some lower and it varied from one creature to the next. But dammit he called Sir Integra such names!

“Seriously, you pathetic halfwit. What can you do to us now, from such a position? You’re utterly trapped, and by a sweet little girl no less.” Walter sighed as if feeling sorry for the Freak. She grinned; she thought of his slight more as a compliment actually. Jan growled then began to laugh. Again.

“You’re seriously goin’ senile geezer! Callin’ me pathetic you old fuck!” Suddenly her head snapped around as she heard shuffling undead feet coming for them, some thirty strong. She gaped at the darkness, light as day to her eyes as her comrades, the soldiers of Hellsing stumbled into view, now undead and already rotting. As she stared in horror, Jan swung his arm up and caught her in the temple with his elbow.

The blow knocked her off him, making her head swim. She rolled up, one hand holding her steady as she gingerly touched the bruise on her head. Jan was on his feet in a blink, smirking like a madman.

“Ready to turn against your own? Let’s get the party started!” He then jumped right over Walter and dashed for the Counsel doors. She was right behind him, but not to stop him. The Hellsing ghouls were incredibly fast and closing on her. Dizzy still, she ignored Walters efforts to stop Jan’s flight, running, but failing to get far. Hand grasped her ankles and pulled her to the ground, giving her head another nasty blow. She turned over and found herself being groped in a very unseemly way, hand all over her, growls and hisses rising in the air. She did not register the sounds of gun fire, dis not hear Walter bellowing like an enraged bull. She felt nothing but disgust and fear…

Then something shifted. Trust me and we will both be safe, something purred in her head, and she let go of something, shoving that something aside to protect it and herself. Her vision finally went utterly red as the world slowed down, the ghouls seeming to be moving in slow motion. Her hands moved with casual grace, almost leisurely, yet limbs and heads flew around the room as if shot from cannons in real time, if anyone was even watching with human eyes. She was on her feet in a fluid motion, teeth bared in a chilling grimace that felt oh so natural on her face at the moment. She laughed as insanely as he ever had, as Jan had, as she casually ripped her own men, some of them newly-made friends into tiny shivering pieces. She shoved her tiny hands through chests, pulled heads off necks, ripped arms off and threw them aside as the ghouls made ineffectual efforts to attack or avoid her.

And it was so very glorious, so lovely, so blood-drenched and fun. So very fun to watch the vestiges of their shattered awareness of who she was, who they were flicker across their dead faces. Their blood was everywhere while her own skin was perfect, tingling with pleasure, drenched with their blood and flesh. She paused, looking with joy at her crimson stained gloves. Oh she would have a taste shortly, so many were left to play with, to enjoy, and she did not want to miss a second of it.

Before her on the ground was a confused, groaning ghoul. Remembering the delight of squashing a head under her boots, she pressed her foot to his cheekbone, fangs bared as she breathed deeply through her nose and mouth the smell of blood, death, and fear. Such fear, familiar, fulfilling…

Pounding feet came up upon her; she would have turned to attack but the scent was familiar, safe, a scent she was meant to protect, not harm. She ignored it until she felt slender arms wind around her, a frantic voice calling her back, pouring into her ears with an edge of desperation she never would have thought this voice could carry.

“Seras! No, Seras, stop! Stop it; you do not need to do this anymore! Its all right, you can stop fighting, we can handle this from here!” She blinked and the red vision disappeared. She reached up slowly and felt the arms around her shoulders, smelled Integra so close to her, dangerously close. She began to shake as Integra hugged her tighter.

“It’s all right Seras. Stop now. Please. Just stop.” Integra whispered brokenly in her ear. She gulped in air as she took in the carnage she had wrought, the bodies broken or destroyed, the blood everywhere, splashing her legs to mid thigh, dripping from her hands… she shook harder then felt a scream break loose, hurting her throat as she keened for a loss beyond words. Integra held her even tighter, shushing her, steadying her and murmuring that it was all right, that she was not angry. She gripped the Knights arm with what had to be a painful grip, trying to regain more control. She gulped and nodded, sniffling pitifully.

“Oh Sir… Oh Integra, what have I done?” she whimpered. She let go of the older woman’s arms, staring around blankly.

“You fought for us, and you survived, Seras. They were dead already. They can rest now. Can you stand?” Integra said quietly, her arms moving away. She nodded and turned slowly. Integra’s face was torn with sorrow, her rage gone but slowly rekindling. She gently brushed her vampire’s hair back and nodded. “You will survive this. You have survived worse. This… was nothing compared to what you have suffered before. I thank you; you saved us with your action.” Integra turned and headed for the counsel chamber, waving for her to follow. She stayed a few steps behind, wary of the ghouls yet alive but unable to do more than groan and reach for them impotently.

Integra moved to stand in front of Jan who was now missing an arm. He laughed, greeting her irreverently and receiving three bullets in the gut for his pains.

“Watch your mouth, you pathetic child. I’m pissed off. Now, why did you attack us? Who sent you to kill us? You did not just decide to do this, someone moved you on the chessboard and I demand to know who, you stupid weak pawn!” Jan laughed, though somehow the sound carried something different now. Regret? Exhaustion? Maybe resignation?

No, it was a sort of panic. An inability to quite absorb that he had failed, that he was trapped, so close to his goal. The fact that his unseen brother had also failed, or else he would have been here by now. He looked up at Integra helplessly for a few seconds.

“Stop laughing you half wit and answer me!” the Hellsing snarled. He sighed and shook his head.

“By now you gotta know that inside my body someplace is a transmitter. They know everything by now. That I lost, and dammit how did that happen… That we’re talking now… and do you think they will let me live knowin’ that?” She had moved behind Integra and saw something odd. One of his eyes was a normal hazel color, and was calm, the insanity of the yellow eyes quiet, gone from the clear orb. She blinked at him as he stared at Integra, then flicked his mismatched eyes to her. He snapped his fingers dramatically, but her keen eyes saw that he was making a dramatic effect only; his flesh was catching fire already even as he made his little dramatic move. His mad laughter began one last time as the blue flames raced over his body, his volatile blood igniting with a strange whoomph sound.

“Well, since I am fucked, those bastards, let me say this.” He raised a middle finger to them, but his eyes were on her. “Enjoy… The… Millennium!” by then the conflagration was beyond control. He was burning so hot and so furiously that even she could barely smell it. Every last scrap of his flesh and clothing was burning, so fast that nothing could be saved.

She did not feel very relieved though. She really wanted to go back downstairs and check on him. Yeah, he was a big boy, older then she by who knew how many centuries. She still worried. No one else even had mentioned him since they had arrived through the vents.

Did no one care about him at all? Worry about him? Even if it was useless to worry about a being, a vampire so powerful as he was, it felt wrong to ignore him this way.

“Walter… can you help them find rest?” Integra’s voice broke into her musing. Her eyes were trained to the hallway filled with once men.

“Certainly, Sir Integra.” He showed no remorse, only sadness at the inevitable task. Then she heard a strong voice stop them all.

“No Walter, we cannot do that.” Sir Islands walked towards them, holding a very nice old semi-auto in hand. He had reloaded it, obviously having emptied it into Jan a short time ago, and now held it out to Integra, his face implacable and utterly empty of any emotion. No anger, no sorrow, no pity.

“This responsibility rests on their commander. Sir Integra. Take this weapon and perform your last duty for them.” She watched Integra’s face as Walter and Sir Islands debated briefly. The Knights face was stricken for a few seconds, her eyes unfocused and her jaw dropped. Then she stood straighter, her eyes locking on her vampire’s still blood-tear rimmed ones.

With any commandership, comes pain. Integra knew she was sending men to their possible deaths or worse every time she dispatched them to fight. This fight had been no different, except that now none of the men had come home intact. She nodded, not smiling, not offering any soft form of kindness. Just a deep sympathy and understanding for the pain Integra was about to inflict upon herself. The two women nodded in unison, sharing a fleeting moment that nonetheless planted a seed of respect and friendship between them.

How long they had to let it grow was yet to be seen.

“Walter, no. I will perform my duty, Sir Islands.” Integra took the gun he offered, dropped the clip and eyed it, before holding her hand out for another. Sir Islands solemnly handed her a second clip, and she turned to enter the hallway once more, now a chamber of horrors. The ghouls, her men, those who had trusted her, lay helplessly, groaning and struggling, maybe in pain from the wounds they had gotten, maybe in the throws of an unholy hunger. Regardless, they suffered.

She watched, biting her lips to prevent herself from crying, as Integra moved from ghoul to ghoul, man to man and murmured something softly before silencing them mercifully, with one bullet each. It was quick, but the Hellsing’s eyes were dark and haunted when she returned. She dropped the second clip, which she had needed all too soon and stared at it.

“Four bullets left.” Integra said absently and then shivered. She looked up at Sir Islands, slowly handing the gun to him. He nodded and then looked down at the gun’s clip as well. He shook his head; he seemed to understand a silent communication between himself and the younger Knight.

“I am not superstitious, Integra. It means nothing. We shall call for our cars, and send help for the clean up of the Manor. Walter has done enough and the staff are lost. I would invite you to my estate, but…

“I cannot possibly leave. Alucard and Seras need their resting places, and I will not leave them here alone in this attaboir. And I need… Hellsing’s walls. We will accept your offer of assistance however. And we will escort you all to the door.” Integra’s voice was quiet and utterly without inflection. Sir Islands seem to ignore her dispiritedness.

“Sir Integra. Despite our anger at this failure… You have always done your duty. You are still a credit to Abraham and Arthur, Integra. You will rise above this disgrace, and defeat this new enemy. I have faith in you, child.” Integra shook her head and turned away, edging towards her, oddly. She shifted closer as well and shyly touched the other woman’s oddly pristine gloves with her bloodstained ones.

She was gratified by the death grip Integra used as she latched onto her young vampires’ fingers, and did not let go…
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No Time For Regrets I - Seras