This is a bit of a Rip Van Winkle backstory, told through her eyes in her final moments as she hides from Alucard. Note-the song is "With A Smile and A Song" from Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, known by many biographers as one of Hitler's all-time favorite movies. Note 2-The first line of this story is a reference to Der Freischütz, one of the operas Rip enjoys to sing. Note 3-I do not, under any circumstances, own these characters or the storyline from Hellsing, although the flashback is of my own imagination. .
As I Go Into Nothing, Will the Sunshine Follow Me?
Silence, let nothing warn me.
First Lieutenant Rip Van Winkle shakes in hiding, tears carving into her face as she looked at the corpses before her, the yells and final shouts of death still echoing, still echoing…
He wasn't finished.
The noises are keeping her alive, yet nothing can dissuade her from this failure. They're all dead, all dying. They all knew her, she loved them. She was in charge of a brigade she treated as her brothers, her friends, her children. Now they fell, guarding something as insignificant as her life; He'll kill me last, sadistically, worse than any twisted method I have ever tried…
The Major will be disappointed. Zorin will be infuriated.
Where is he? I pray they don't watch me die…awful, awful…
Her worst fear…a countdown to obliteration at his hands, his many hands! This is not a test, this is an eclipse of her world. The music of Der Freischütz still plays into the night, overcoming the flames, which looks like the glow of candles in a gigantic ballroom…
There once was a time where I was courageous, where I was defining, where I was not crying from watching my responsibilities be eradicated by him.
As the fear envelopes her, her soul seemingly needs to watch her trembling a moment, carefully articulating her every breath, as each one is nearing the last. Within her silky blue eyes lie a desire to return to where she was, could it have been as short as weeks ago? The doors opened at the Jeder Ist Tanzbar…there she was, arriving alone.
How unnatural of me, how quaint I am!
First Lieutenant Rip Van Winkle stood in her pastel-yellow dress-not gold like a damn French princess-that wrapped around her upper arms, slightly baring the tops of her shoulders and a glimpse at her protruding collarbone. She did not mean to be so thin, it was simply her exercise-to-food ratio was rather favored to her love of twirling around the gigantic warhead she always carried with her, even now. If her fellow militia men were allowed to bring their guns to hide in their tuxedo jackets, then there was no reason she was to be excluded. Perhaps the Major would beg a demonstration of her, and where would she store it tonight? The dress, when in a still form, took to her ankles in a thinly bunched manner, but when she walked with grace, it followed each movement as beautifully as the way a being shifts underwater; when she spun, her favorite, the dress would ripple out into the waiting space. The sleeves extended to the middle of her forearm; she wouldn't dare show much more than that. The shoes, heels, were highly uncomfortable and matched the dress to a tint. Her feet were flat, unlike the typical arched foot required for such inhumane soles. She much preferred the white men's shoes she often wore that was a size too big but easily settling. The long, raven-colored hair that habitually fell straight past the small of her back now was curled and held to the middle of her head with pins; it still reached just past her shoulder blades. One single curl escaped her style, an untamable curl which she had long given up on. The full-circle glasses reflected all she saw; without their aid, her eyes were useless. Her normally nonexistent makeup was now lightly applied to her face, a bold blue eye-shadow and subtly-done pink lips used to enunciate her lit-up pupils and winning, childlike grin. Her earrings matched her glittering swastika necklace that drooped past her apparent (refined) chest. Never would she take that off, not even until her death. The doors opened at the Jeder Ist Tanzbar, a ballroom the Major had to pay much money to rent, seeing as how the Nazis were not fully welcome in Berlin yet.
The doors opened, the attendants smiling, "Welcome Miss Van Winkle."
"That's Oberleutnant Van Winkle to you," she relished, for a brief, brief moment of arrogance. Feeling terrible, she hugged the attendants, whispering, "Thank you." After that, she would accept "Miss" or "Oberleutnant" from anyone, well, save those she served.
"Look at the Duchess here," Zorin sarcastically murmured. Her voice was as obnoxious as her outfit of choice for the evening. She wore a tuxedo, as did all the Millennium men, except hers was gray and sleeveless, in order to flaunt those unflattering tattoos. Her crop-top hair had been barely combed down, yet she still seemed to have it together.
For the love of Hitler, show some class, it's a gala.
"Well," she mocked, "Are you my dyk-Duke! Are you my Duke for the evening?" Rip panted in shock. Zorin looked at her, grimacing. Even though they considered each other to be their best friend, and were two of the most powerful women on Earth, they would rather see nothing more than wishful disgrace upon the other. Rip lifted her warhead in defense, but by that time Zorin had ignored her, walking away into the crowd.
"Well, well. Oberleutnant Rip Van Winkle, how wonderful to see you," Luke Valentine gently greeted, sliding into a soft hug and snapping for the attendants to rid Rip of the burden of carrying her warhead around all night. He was sharply dressed in a Victorian-era suit, whereas his brother Jan wore a simple suit worthy of the junior prom. Rip had the utmost respect for both brothers, seeing as how they strengthened Millennium even more than in previous years. Luke loosened the hug, his arms still crossing her waist, his hands holding her lower back.
"Rip…" he pursed, "Why do you wear men's clothes all the time? Especially if you look so…enticing in something you belong in."
"Because," she begrudgingly responded, knocking away Luke's hands, "I want the enemy to never make the distinction between man and woman, I just want them to know they have had the honor to die by the hand of one of the Oberleutnants of the Millennium revolution. I, frankly, have more love for my organization than my looks."
She walked away, being greeted by random soldiers strewn about, pleading for a dance with the great Rip Van Winkle.
They all love me, admire me, worship me. I can never let them down, as my greatest possible repayment.
The band waved her on, a bright beauty amongst the black tuxedos. She hummed the peaceful songs the violins and drums pumped out, even while soldiers threw themselves at her, begging for marriage and squabbling over who was more worthy of Miss Rip Van Winkle. Finally, a stout man with glasses forced his way to her.
"Why, hello Major. How are you this evening, my ever-gracious master?" Rip pleasantly addressed.
"Oh good, you're here, Oberleutnant. Just in time for my big speech. But first, would you mind showing off your abilities for me?" the Major asked, pointing to young Schrödinger, who was busy interacting with the soldiers. He saw Rip and ran over.
"So, you finally decided to show off those curves, did you Oberleutnant?" Schrödinger pestered. Rip fumed, to take it lightly.
I am not an object of your dirty attractions…
Rip was handed her warhead, and a goofy smile flashed, "Won't you stand about twenty feet that way? For me, Officer Schrödinger?" He obeyed, preparing for the pain that was coming. But once they all turned their faces…
She pulled the trigger, a light blue trail zigzagging throughout the aura of the room. It continued until it plowed into the side of his left leg, knocking both shins clean off, going up and down into his head, through his stomach, and finally resting into his elbow, shattering it. When all was done, Schrödinger's body lay on the ground, sprawled in the shape of a swastika. Cheers grew from the soldiers. The Major stepped in the middle of the floor, near where Rip lowered her gun.
"And she did that in heels," he remarked, half-glaring at Zorin, "What a fantastic introduction to my speech.
"With talent like this, imagine what we are capable of. With my Doctor, my Captain, Rip, Zorin, Tubalcain, Luke, Jan, and Schrödinger," who by this time had popped up with Zorin, "and of course, all of you, who are the most important to our mission. This gala is for you, to celebrate our impending future, where the sun will rise on our magnificent flag every morning, and all the rest of the world is perished. We will take our wives and raise our children for the greater good, where the Third Reich will rule for a millennium. Of course, there is the Hellsing Organization, who stands in our way, who wants us to drown in their sorrowful system of running things, who cannot bear to live under our flag. We are here to defeat them, to crush them…"
"To subdue their assets," Rip cut in. The Major merely smiled and continued, "To subdue their greatest asset, Mr. Alucard," Rip cringed, "I have a plan, which I will not discuss tonight so as to not derail our celebration. It however, involves his simple weakness, the water."
More cheers flew about, and Rip and Zorin applauded their master. The blonde musclewoman pushed Rip towards him.
"Won't the Duchess here sing a song? She does it all the goddamn time."
Rip's eyes widened. The Major had never heard her sing; she meant that on purpose, so as to not anger him and waste his time scolding her for singing and not training.
"Our Millennium Flower has a hidden talent? Well, let us test her with one of the Fürher's favorites," he suggested, pleased.
He would not be bothered by this, not this night.
The band led Rip to the stage, to begin playing a hauntingly lovely tune, which Rip had learned and sung often as a young girl, training for the opera, but that was all before…the…turning.
She turned to the stage hand and had most of the lights turned down so that nothing but candlelight remained, and a spotlight focused right on her. A pleasant mezzo-soprano escaped from her mouth:
"Mit einem Lächeln und einem Lied
Das Leben ist gerade wie ein heller,
sonniger Tag Ihre Sorgfalt verbläßt weg
Und Ihr Herz ist jung Mit einem Lächeln
und einem Lied Die ganze
Welt scheint waken von neuem
Das Freuen mit Ihnen als dem Lied wird gesungen
There' s kein Gebrauch beim Murren
Wenn Regentropfen stolpernd kommen
Erinnern Sie sich an you' bezüglich des
Wer die Welt mit Sonnenschein füllen kann
Wenn Sie lächeln und Sie singen Alles ist in der Melodie
und in it' s-Frühling Und das Leben fließt entlang
Mit einem Lächeln und einem Lied…"
The Major gazed at her, joyously crying in silence. The Valentines seemed quite moved, and Zorin nodded to her. Rip smiled largely, proud to be standing in front of those she loved. A couple of soldiers helped her down and handed her a glass of champagne.
"A toast," she bellowed, "To this night and to our sacrifice for a greater future!"
A future she would never see.
Silence, let nothing warn me. My perfection is over, did it even exist?
Her clock ticked as she wept. The boys, my boys…
The deck of the Eagle went cold, no noise now, except the ticking. The clock finally chimed, only to be destroyed by one stomp.
What now, oh what now? Do I desire the death of a Huntress?
Rip wiped away her tears, no use for them now, stood, and pointed her warhead at the menace who was to kill her and engulf her into Hell.
Bless Millennium, bless the dead, and bless the future. I wish you well.