Disclaimer: I do not own Hellsing. Or Missa Kenya.

For Miss Diehl, who somehow manages to do this on a daily basis and not go insane. Integra wishes she could conduct half as well as you!

GLORIA

Integra stood at the podium, a slight frown visible on her face. She still wasn't quite sure why she was doing this; Sir Irons had given her an explanation earlier, but it had struck her as so ridiculous that she hadn't remembered a word of it. But whatever the reason, here she stood before a mass of individuals, hailing from three different organizations, faced with the awful, horrid, and cruel and unusual task of trying to get them to sing, and in an organized, musical fashion, no less.

She drummed her fingers on the podium's surface absentmindedly, almost longing for the baton she'd gotten so used to conducting with. However ridiculous the current situation was, as soon as she found out she'd be conducting, Integra had resolved not to make a fool of herself if at all possible. So, she'd sat in her office practicing for three days in advance; at first, the baton's motions had been awkward and clumsy, to say the least. She'd thrown the plastic object at Alucard once or twice, but eventually she'd realized that the baton was not really pointy enough to get him to stop bothering her about her technique. However, she felt she'd seriously improved since the first day; her motions had become more fluid and precise, and she could even conduct in 3/8 + 2/4. That particular time signature had not come easily, and Integra doubted she'd need it, but she'd felt compelled to learn it all the same, on the off chance that a certain someone from Iscariot should decide to quiz her on it.

Unfortunately, Integra had been informed that she wouldn't be allowed to use the baton to direct the choir (batons are really more of a band thing). So, she felt slightly out of her newly-formed comfort zone as she surveyed her choir. In the soprano section stood Rip Van Winkle, Seras, and Yumie; they seemed to be having some sort of girl fight. On the far right side of the risers was the alto section, comprised of primarily of Zorin, Heinkel, and Schrödinger. Integra still thought it odd that the catboy had elected to sing with the girls, but his voice simply wasn't developed enough to fit in with the tenors. Besides, neither of his companions was really that girly, anyway.

As Integra glanced at the tenor section, she noticed that it was somehow far too large. Tenors are, as a rule, incredibly hard to come by, and yet, she somehow found that she had far too many. Just for me, I suppose, she thought sarcastically to herself. Grand.

"Do mi so mi do... do fa la fa do... ti re so re ti... do mi so do so mi do..."

Integra inwardly cringed as she heard the all-too familiar voice float out from among the tenor section. Enrico Maxwell stood on the risers, loudly warming up with a show-off-ish barrage of arpeggios.

"La do mi do la... la re fa re la... si ti mi ti si... la do mi la mi do la..."

Angered by not having been picked to be the conductor, the Section Thirteen chief had insisted upon being given the tenor solo in Gloria from Missa Kenya, since he was oh-so-experienced in both singing and Roman Catholic mass. The piece actually was a mass, written in Latin, but for some reason set to an African theme. The organizers of this... torture... had consented to giving him the part mostly to shut him up, but also because he really was probably the best man for the part, seeing as only a few individuals in the ensemble actually knew how to sing. The other tenors (Tubalcain, Pip, Dok, and Hans) eyed him silently, each having his own reason for not wanting to be here. Integra looked at the Captain and sighed, wondering why in the world the mute werewolf had even bothered to show up.

Suddenly, a low chuckle rumbled out from the bass section, and Integra turned sharply to look. What she saw was not a surprise, but it was annoying nonetheless. Alucard and Anderson both stood on the risers, hands at each other's throats. The Major stood a row behind them, watching with an amused smirk as the two rivals faced off.

Anderson growled, and his eyes narrowed. "Ah told ye, dinnae git in mah space! Ah cannae concentrate with yer filthy demon scent invading mah nostrils!"

Alucard only hissed in reply, grinning maniacally. Suddenly, the vampire lunged, latching his teeth onto Anderson's nose. Seras squealed, Maxwell took a frightened step backwards, Integra drew in a sharp, angry gasp, and the Major cackled as Anderson fought to dislodge the No-Life King from his face.

"Git-it-off-git-it-off-git-it-off-git-it-off-git-it-off!"

"Alucard!" Integra snapped, not so much angered by him attacking Anderson as by him disrupting her rehearsal and undermining her authority. "Let go immediately!"

Alucard reluctantly relinquished his grip on Anderson and stood on the riser with an innocent smile. "Anything you say, my Master. Or should I call you Mrs. Von Trapp?"

Integra groaned. The Sound of Music joke again. He'd been referring to her as Maria von Trapp for some time now, and it was driving her absolutely bonkers. Integra heard a malicious snigger emanating from the tenor section; sure enough, when she whipped her head around to look at them, the Captain was staring pointedly at Enrico Maxwell, who was staring pointedly at anywhere but Integra and whistling tunelessly. Integra shot him her finest director-of-Hellsing glare, made sure he got the message, and turned back to address the group as a whole.

"Since we're all stuck here, I want to make two things clear. One: I am the conductor, and as such, I have been given temporary authority over all of you. Two: My word is now law until the instant you set foot outside this room. After that you can all do as you bloody well please, excepting, of course, those of you on my payroll. Now, we're going to rehearse this piece, and you're all going to focus and behave yourselves, or so help me this choir room will look like a slaughterhouse when I'm finished with you. That goes for you, too, Alucard. Am I understood?"

Not waiting for an answer, Integra flipped open her folder and found the score for Gloria. Opening the pamphlet to the first page, she lifted her hands in preparation for Maxwell's cue. "Let's start from the beginning," she said, and started conducting.

"Gloria in excelsis Deo..."

Maxwell's voice rang out surprisingly in time and on pitch, even though Integra had conveniently "forgotten" to set a tempo and play his opening pitch for him. The entire piece was acapella, which meant that whatever note Maxwell chose to start on would set the key for the entire ensemble. Integra had been hoping that not giving him a pitch to start on would trip him up, but he'd obviously been expecting something like this. He probably smuggled a pitch-pipe in his pocket, she thought to herself, and cued in the rest of the choir while cutting Maxwell off.

"Et in terra paxhominibus, bonaevoluntatis."

"Lauda-"

"VAIT!"

Maxwell made a garbled noise as Integra abruptly cut him off mid-phrase. Schrödinger now stood with a timid hand in the air, obviously a little self-conscious about his outburst. Integra sighed. "Yes, Schrödinger?"

The catboy put his hand down. "Vhat ist a mini-bus?" he asked timidly.

"It's a special bus, Schrödinger," Alucard said in mock seriousness. "The technical term is "short bus". It's a bus for people like you."

Schrödinger drew in an elated gasp. "People like me?" he asked, overjoyed at the thought of an entire type of public transportation just for catboys.

Alucard grinned wryly. "Yes, you little neko nuisance. Just like you..."

"It's not 'mini-bus', it's me-nee-boos," Maxwell drawled in an attempt to correct Schrödinger's mispronunciation. However, he only succeeded in eliciting an obnoxious laugh from a certain French mercenary.

"Ha-ha-ha! 'E sounds like a cave man asking for booze!" Pip chortled. "Me need booze! Ha-ha-ha-ha!"

Maxwell turned beet-red. "Why, you insolent, heathen ruffian!" he sputtered. "How dare you defile the sacred Latin texts of-"

"SHUT UP!"

Everyone turned and stared at Integra, who stood, fuming, behind her podium. "All of you, just shut up," she commanded. "Just shut up and sing. I don't want to be here any more than you do. I have a life too, believe it or not. And I'm not going to take any more of this crap. Schrödinger, don't ask what the words mean; I gave you a bloody IPA sheet, that should be good enough for you. Alucard, Maxwell, stop being smart-alecks. And Pip... either grow a brain, or get out of my sight." Integra gestured angrily to the choir as a whole. "And as for the rest of you, stop standing there drooling and picking your noses. We're going to start right where we left off in about two seconds, so look sharp."

Maxwell started. "Exactly where we left off?"

Integra turned and glared at him. "Exactly."

"But that's in the middle of a word-"

"I DON'T CARE!"

And with that, Integra started viciously conducting, stabbing the air angrily with imaginary weapons.

Maxwell, not quite sure how to start and slightly taken aback by Integra's tirade, came in about a measure late.

"-mus te..."

The rest of the choir followed just as hesitantly.

"Benedicimuste..."

"Adoramuste..."

"Glorificamuste."

"Domine Deus, Rex coelestis, Deus Pater Omnipotens."

Suddenly, everyone stopped singing and looked to the conductor. Integra, who had been so distracted she'd forgotten to follow her score, had no idea what was going on. They were obviously waiting for some kind of cue... She flipped through the score hurriedly, trying to pinpoint where she was in the music, but she came up blank. They were all looking at her expectantly, waiting for the cue that was not forthcoming. Still, Integra was not about to ask one of them for the measure number, so she resolved to find it on her own, no matter how long it took. However, after a long period of silence, she still came up empty. Isn't this wonderful? she thought wryly. The great Integra Hellsing can't find a stupid cue... However, her thoughts were interrupted when she detected hushed whispers coming from the bass section.

"...my turn..."

"...Ace of Clubs..."

"Rum!"

"Ssh!"

She turned to look, and found that Tubalcain had left his section and was playing a game of Rummy with Alucard and Anderson. Alucard, who had been shushed, looked over at Anderson, who had done the shushing. "Are you happy now, Judas Priest? She probably heard you; thanks for ruining the game."

Anderson folded his arms and threw his cards angrily onto the riser they'd used as a table. "Well, if ye an' yer engrossed self over there had nae decided tae yell 'Rum' tae the world, Ah would nae have had tae shush ye! Besides, ye're cheating. Dinnae think Ah dinnae notice yer big red eyes sizing up mah deck."

Alucard picked up an Ace, bent it slightly, and flicked it at Anderson. Anderson picked up a Jack and did the same; soon, cards were flying everywhere as more and more people joined in. The card battle quickly escalated into a full-scale war, and it was all Integra could do to keep from running out of the room and retreating to her office. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Tubalcain cowering in a corner, mumbling, "My cards... they're destroying my cards!" Suddenly, a plan formed in her mind, and she walked over to where Tubalcain sat, helpless before the destruction of his deck.

Integra bent over to whisper in the card shark's ear. "If I save your cards, will you tell me the measure number without making a scene?"

Tubalcain looked up at her, slightly confused. "Why?"

Integra gritted her teeth. "Does it really matter why? Yes or no, Poker Face."

The Dandyman thought for a moment. "Okay, fine. Cards first."

"No, measure number first," Integra growled. "I'm not an idiot."

Tubalcain winced as a Queen of Hearts fluttered into the open piano top. "Okay, okay. I don't really know what measure number it is, but we're at the part that sounds like a Gregorian chant. You know, the part where the drums drop out and we have to say that really long word in sixteenth notes and eighth-note triplets? That part."

"Oh..." Integra knew immediately what he was talking about. The chant was a very distinct part of the score. She stood up and walked back to her podium. After finding the measure in question, she picked up a long, thick, metal nail that she'd brought along in case of emergency and strode towards the old harpsichord gathering dust in the corner. She opened the lid on the top, dislodging dust mites and a Three of Spades, and purposefully placed the nail's edge on one of the metal "strings". She placed a pair of foam earplugs in her ears before proceeding, and turned to Tubalcain. "You may want to cover your ears," she warned, and dragged the nail along the harpsichord strings as hard and as fast as she could.

SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

The nail produced a horrendous screech that echoed throughout the room, inflicting pain upon any and every eardrum it came in contact with. The noise was loud, high-pitched, and approximately a hundred times worse than ten-inch nails on a chalkboard. Instantly, everyone in the room was on the floor, on a riser, or in a chair, moaning and covering his or her ears. Seras lay trembling on the floor in a fetal position, trying to cover her head with her folder. Schrödinger sat perched on top of a cabinet, cat ears flattened. Alucard had his hat brim pulled so low it was impossible to see his eyes and the better part of his nose, Pip appeared to be vomiting in a trash can, and Maxwell sat curled into a ball, hiding underneath the risers. Anderson, the only human who had managed to remain standing upright, leaned against the back wall, trembling fingers digging into the drywall. "Sae... loud..."

Integra stood, relaxed, by the harpsichord. She was unaffected by the noise because of her earplugs, so she simply smiled and dragged the nail across the wires, back and forth. After about a minute or so of nonchalantly inflicting agony and despair, she removed the nail from the surface of the strings and walked back over to her podium. She clasped her hands behind her back. "Tubalcain, you are free to collect your cards," she stated matter-of-factly. "I suggest you do so quickly, and return to your section."

Tubalcain picked up all the cards and scrambled back to his riser like his life depended on it. Integra leaned forward, supporting herself with the podium, and smiled slightly. They would surely listen to whatever she said now; she'd officially made it clear that Sir Integral Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing was indeed the boss of all of them. "Alright, we'll start right where we left off," she announced rather smugly, and raised her hands in preparation for the downbeat.

"Domine Fili unigeni-"

"SIR INTEGRA!"

Integra angrily cut the group off and turned to face the sopranos. Seras, who'd blurted out the interruption in a fit of uncharacteristic frustration, turned beet red and covered her mouth.

Integra sighed. "What do you want, Police Girl? This had better be world-shattering."

Seras gulped visibly. Everyone at Hellsing, Alucard included, was terrified of Integra's wrath. And with good reason. "Umm, sorry sir, but there's a split in the soprano part coming up, sir, and, well... Rip Van Winkle thinks she should be on first part and Yumie and I should take second, but Yumie thinks that she should be on first part..."

"And do you think you should be Soprano One, Seras?" Integra asked slowly.

Seras' eyes flitted side to side nervously, and she nodded sheepishly. "Yes, sir."

Integra walked over to the piano, and landed her finger on an ivory key, allowing the pitch to ring out until it faded away. "This is a high A," she said. "It does not appear in your music, because it is obscenely high-pitched and difficult to sustain. Whoever can hit this note and hold it for four beats without sounding like a dying parrot will be Soprano One. Do I have any volunteers to go first?"

For a long time, no one raised her hand. Integra was starting to wonder how bad they wanted this, when Rip Van Winkle's gloved hand shot into the air. Integra turned to face the huntress. "Rip Van Winkle, you may put your hand down." She looked over at Seras and Yumie. "Do either of you want to give it a try?"

Both shook their heads no, Seras being far too afraid of that note and Yumie knowing she probably should have been an alto, anyway. Maxwell cringed inwardly; he'd wanted Yumie to at least go for it. In his mind, the Section Thirteen members needed to be the best in their respective sections, or Hellsing and Millennium would start to think they were better than the Catholic exorcists. Nonetheless, he knew Yumie's upper range was limited, and he was content with the fact that she had elected not to embarrass herself and her organization. The Major was, of course, overjoyed at the fact that his lieutenant had been so forward; he knew his soldiers would put Hellsing and those Vatican incompetents in their place.

Integra could not have cared less. She turned back to Rip. "Rip Van Winkle, you are now Soprano One by default. Congratulations." She raised her hands. "Are we ready to begin?"

Rip gave an elated nod, and Integra brought her hands down and started conducting.

"Domine Filli unigenite Jesu Christe..."

"Domine Deus..."

"Domine Deus..."

"Domine Deus, Agnus Dei, Filius Patris."

"Cosa cosa cosa?"*

Integra immediately stopped conducting and glared straight at Maxwell, who was sweating and fingering his collar. "Enrico Maxwell," she said slowly and dangerously, "do you realize just how unacceptable this is?"

Maxwell flinched visibly. He hadn't actually looked over the piece in advance, and he'd never even picked up an IPA sheet. In short, he'd gotten lazy and not come prepared. Now he was surely looking like an idiot in front of everyone, friends, enemies, and frienemies alike. Of course, the Section Thirteen chief had never counted on not being able to pronounce the Latin...nor had he counted on screwing up so masterfully two feet in front of Integra.

"I know what I'm doing now," Maxwell grumbled, cheeks turning an uncharacteristic shade of red. "You can rest assured that it will not happen again."

Integra gritted her teeth. "An apology would be morally obligatory, Maxwell, but I should have known better than to expect one from you. In any case, it had better not happen again, or I will personally launch your hindquarters out of this room and into the stratosphere!"

That being said, Integra started conducting once more, and Maxwell sang with mucho gusto, eager to prove to Integra that he was, indeed, all he was cracked up to be.

"Qui tollis peccata mundi..."

"Miserere, misererenobis, sucipe deprecationem nostram."

"Qui sedes ad dexteram Patris..."

"Miserere, miserere nobis."

"Qui sedes ad de-ex-te-ram... a-ah..."

"Miserere, miserere nobis."

Suddenly, a sharp appeared in Integra's score, and she realized that the piece was about to change key. Slight worry began to creep into her mind as she realized that Maxwell, not having been given any starting pitches by a certain conductor, would probably screw this up beyond repair and all would be lost. Even worse, it would be her fault. God, I beseech you, she prayed silently. Please, PLEASE bless Maxwell with perfect pitch...

"Quoniam tu solus sanctus Dominus!"

"Dominus tu solus altisimus, Jesu Christe Dominus."

Maxwell's entrance was half a step too sharp, but since there was no piano, that hardly made a difference. The rest of the group chimed in right on time, and they seemed to be complying with Maxwell's... ah... transpositions just fine. Integra closed her eyes and allowed herself a brief smile. Everything was finally coming together.

Unfortunately, she didn't notice the bayonet until it was too late.

Integra opened her eyes with a gasp as a streak of silver entered her vision. She had no time to react as the projectile hurtled towards her. The missile of divine punishment cut through the air and embedded itself in its target with a soft thud.

Seras screamed, long and loud. Alucard and Anderson, who had somehow gotten themselves caught up in yet another scrap, flinched at the piercing noise. Maxwell, eyes wide as saucers, crossed himself and mumbled, "Dio, mi salvi dalla sua ira..."**

Seras, not quite content with screaming, babbled in a frenzied gasp. "Oh God they're fighting we're all gonna die I'm gonna die I'm gonna die die die-"

"SERAS! Shut up!" Integra, while elated that the bayonet had missed her head by centimeters, was not very happy that the weapon had somehow managed to pin her score to the back wall. In fact, she knew that this was the last straw. Integra's patience had been tried beyond the breaking point, and she'd finally decided she was giving up. "All of you, just shut up!" she screamed. "I did not come here to try to teach stupid, incompetent monkeys to sing! I don't even know why I came here! But in any case, here I am, and I just can't take this anymore! This whole thing is nothing more than a bloody farce. It's stupid, useless, and is not going to accomplish a thing. I refuse to continue babysitting you morons!"

Everyone in the room was deathly silent. Integra walked up to the back wall, ripped the bayonet from the drywall and tossed it to the ground. She picked up the ruined score and flung it on the podium, causing pages to fly out and flutter to the floor. As the music settled on the carpet in disarray, Integra stalked out of the choir room and into the hallway. She slammed the door and leaned back against the adjacent wall, breathing heavily. After a couple seconds of silence, she slowly slid down the wall until she sat with her face behind her knees.

"I shouldn't have even bothered," she whispered softly to herself. "What did I think would come of it, anyway? Handel's Messiah? Some exquisite oratorio? Oh, please. Who did I think I was fooling?" Integra rested her elbows on her knees and buried her face in her arms. "Leave the music to the musicians. All that rabble and I are good for is warmongering."

She sat that way for several minutes without saying another word. The darkened hallway, empty except for her and a rusting water fountain, was silent as a mausoleum. Integra allowed her mind to go blank, and immediately all the concerns she'd just been so worked up over vanished forever down the drain of the water fountain. She sat in the hallway and allowed the silence to swallow her up in a blanket of melancholy peace.

"...cum Sancto Spiritu in Gloria Dei Patris..."

Integra sat up. She could hear Maxwell, and he was singing. He's gone and started rehearsal without me! she thought with reflexive alarm. He's taken my place! How dare he? I've got to go in there and stop him! He's probably not even conducting it right, bloody Catholic...

Integra burst into the choir room, fully prepared to challenge Maxwell to a vocal duel to the death, but what she saw stopped her dead in her tracks. Maxwell stood on his riser, exactly where she'd left him. The entire choir had joined in, all doing what they were supposed to be doing with uniform precision.

"Cum Sancto Spiritu in Gloria Dei Patris..."

She turned her eyes to the podium. Behind it, conducting nonchalantly and grinning ear to ear, stood Alucard. The vampire looked as though he were enjoying himself immensely, and Integra had to wonder if her servant had been lying when he'd ardently pronounced that he had not had musical training.

Alucard looked over at her and grinned. Welcome back, Master, he thought, using that telepathy that everyone thought was so incredibly creepy. How was your break?

Integra chuckled and pushed him away from the podium, immediately taking over the conducting. How in the world did you get them to listen to you, Alucard?

Integra, being human, didn't posses telepathy, but Alucard could read her thoughts just fine. For once, she was actually letting him in her brain. She trusted him. The thought made him feel emotions he hadn't felt in a long, long time. Actually, it was Maxwell's suggestion. I suppose he figured that if you heard him singing you'd rush in here to get him off the podium. He probably didn't want you to break his neck, so he figured he'd let me take the beating. Coward.

Integra looked at Maxwell, whose violet eyes met hers for little more than an instant before immediately looking away. She thought she saw a tinge of red make its way onto his cheeks, and she wasn't quite sure why that fact unnerved her so much. Whatever, she thought with sudden resolve. We're so close to the bloody end I can almost smell it. I'll sort this all out later. I always do.

"Gloria..."

"Cum Sancto Spiritu in Gloria Dei Patris."

"Gloria..."

"Cum Sancto Spiritu in Gloria Dei Patris."

As the choir neared the final measures of the piece, a change took place in the members of the mismatched group. Seras sang louder and with more confidence than she ever had before; Anderson forgot all about the heathens; Pip's mind floated, for a few magical moments, out of the gutter; Tubalcain forgot about his cards; Schrödinger's curiosity was finally satisfied. Enrico Maxwell realized that perhaps, just this once, he didn't have to come out on top. Alucard looked at his Master, and, for the first time in over five hundred years, realized he had something to be grateful for, after all.

And Integra?

Integra made music.

"Amen."

Finé

* "Cosa" means "what" in Italian.

** "Dio, mi salvi dalla sua ira", also Italian, translates to, "God, save me from her wrath."