YAYS!! My first fanfic! *squees!* =^_^=

I'm kinda new at this, so please review and let me know what I need to improve on. Doing so will earn you my undying love and gratitude! Flamers and spammers will earn my unyielding loathing, wrath, and spite…

I do not own Hellsing, or any of the characters – I just enjoy manipulating them into doing obscene acts for my own perverted entertainment :D

--------------------------------------------------

~~~Prologue~~~

"Please… Stop…" a woman's tearful voice struggled to make it self known, if only as a whimper between pained gasps. The words, however pitifully faint they were, fell on deaf ears as the woman was trapped in the forceful embrace of her captor. While a tall, dark, imposing figure of a man had his arms wrapped tightly around the woman, it was his teeth that held the firmest grip on her, sinking beneath the skin and striking the vein in her neck; creating a path for her blood to surface, only to be consumed by the assailant immediately.

"Please…" the woman tried once more, lacking the strength to continue her futile pleading any more than that. Within mere seconds, her body was nothing more than a lifeless corpse and was quickly cast aside, landing with a splash in a puddle of the dank ally. The figure of the vampire even discarded the presence of the woman's carcass, turned on his heel, and began to walk away when he stopped in his tracks.

A sudden thought struck him – It's not like anyone would have cared that another prostitute was found dead in an ally. After all, shit like this happens all the time. But… it might just pay off to play it on the safe side. The vampire suddenly walked back to the dead prostitute and began searching her person for her 'earnings'. He already killed the bitch, so he might as well rob her ass… Besides, as much as he'd hate to admit it, even a vampire needs money to survive in this world, or at least for entertainment; and a prostitute who died during a mugging would be less conspicuous than if she had not. Still, it's not like he had much to worry about, anyways. As far as the general public and the British authorities were concerned, vampires don't exist at all.

"What a beautiful night…" the vampire mused to himself. He turned to face in the direction of the, now distant, dead woman. "Nights such as this are wasted on your kind…"

The Victorian-style lanterns illuminated the dark streets of the British city. It gave the normally dreary environment a rather warm and welcoming feeling. The vampire enjoyed this feeling of warmth, but it was probably time for a change of scenery. He didn't want to overstay his welcome here, since there were quite a few murder reports that he was responsible for, and despite the usual incompetence of the police force, they were bound to catch on sooner or later. The night was relatively young, leaving just enough time to make it to the small, rural village of Bampton, that is, if the vampire started hauling ass - immediately. Deciding to do so, the vampire let out a contented sigh and began to soak in the view of the city. One day, maybe a year from now, or a century form now, he would return. With a smirk of Cheshire Cat-esque proportions, the vampire started his stride out of town. But… something felt weird. Odd, even... He looked down and brushed his chest with a gloved finger, bringing it up afterward for examination.

Blood? Shit…

This is what happens when you get too absorbed in the scenery… The vampire pivoted on the spot to observe what was behind him. A police officer – just as he suspected.

"The hell…?" the police officer gaped in awe of the man before him, who didn't even so much as flinch at a bullet penetrating his lung. A few seconds more of dumb amazement and the officer eventually snapped out of his stupor to fire another shot with little noticeable effect.

Wonderful... Just fucking wonderful... A dead prostitute was one thing, something that no one really cared to notice, but a dead policeman was a magnet for unwanted attention. There possibly was a random onlooker who spotted him feeding and reported to the authorities. It happened before, after all. The bloodsucker silently cursed himself for being careless enough to be seen. Damnit! This was 1812 all over again!

The panicking officer had, apparently, lost all reason by this point and unleashed a hail of bullets at the vampire, piercing his clothing and flesh as one would expect, but other than that, had absolutely no effect – especially in the 'scream ouch, fall down, then die' area.

"Human!" the vampire barked, his brow furrowed in annoyance at the officer, but mostly at himself. "I would highly recommend running for your sad, pathetic life… that is, of course, if you hold any value for it."

As the vampire looked at the stunned officer and noticed a few thunderous bangs, followed by small, crimson beads that jumped out from just under his vision. Apparently, they weren't alone. The vampire looked behind him and found several other officers, holding their guns up as if they were a makeshift firing squad. The scent of their fear and confusion was clearly evident in the air, but was unneeded – their actions and poise were more than enough to read their emotions.

The fools… Did they actually wish to die???

The grin crept back into his features. Who was he to deny these fine gentlemen of their request? It wasn't until shots were suddenly fired from every angle imaginable at the undead man that he actually made his move. In less than an instant, the policemen lay on the ground next to their severed limbs, marinating in a pool of their own blood. It all happened to fast for any of them to cry out in pain, but not fast enough for then to cry out in fear. While the screams were silenced, the vampire basked in the memory of the sound momentarily before setting off. More people were bound to show due to the noise, and he couldn't risk being seen again.

"Humans are such weak, pitiful creatures," the vampire mentioned to himself, grin still in tact as he walked out into the night.