Well does he know that a man of his age, standing and pedigree having a crush on a woman a third his age is disgraceful. Disgusting. But he has no problem admitting - in the privacy of his own head, at least - that he has been hers from their very first meeting, nearly a decade past.
- "This is General Penwood. I don't know if this message is being received or not, but in the hopes I am being heard by someone, I'm transmitting." -
Even as a girl, she had a presence that far eclipsed his own; she was a leader born and bred. It was like seeing Arthur Hellsing reborn - in a far more comely shell, no less. Perhaps all Hellsings are like that, made people want to give their lives over into their keeping. He had, and he cannot bring himself to regret it even now. He will die, soon. He knows it. But his heart is glad. Because a woman a third of his age smiled at him, and wished him luck.
- "This place is going to fall at any minute. The monsters are right around the corner… they're almost to the doors." -
He is not a strong man. He cannot slay the monsters for her. She has men for that, well-trained underlings and a terrifyingly efficient butler. He courts her with under-the-table funding and a voice she can count on to back her in Round Table meetings, with military-grade helicopters and cases of silver ammunition and high-yield explosives that even a paramilitary organization like Hellsing has some trouble acquiring through legitimate channels.
- "To all humans who are receiving my broadcast, this is my final order: fight until you have completed your mission." -
The doors burst inward, propelled by the strength of inhuman muscle. He smiles, ignoring the cold sweat on his brow, the fear churning his gut.
He is not a wise man. Honestly, he's a bit of a fool. He doesn't mind it because the only person he is ever completely honest with is himself. And because his antics sometimes provokes those brief, indulgent smiles of hers - Integra does not suffer fools lightly, but she tolerates the useful ones, like himself - rare as red diamonds and just as highly valued. He acquired his position through family connections and knowing how to shmooze his way to the top, not talent.
He is a coward, but he is not a traitor. Not to the Crown, and not to her.
He met a child, once, and his life was never the same.
He feels bullets bite into him. It's a high-caliber weapon the German is packing, and it hurts like all hell. He's never been shot before. It's not an experience he recommends.
But his thumb is already on the detonator switch.
- "Farewell, Integra. It's been fun." -
I love you.
The ensuing explosion ensures that no one, Nazi or Englishman, is making it out of that conflagration alive.