What makes for a just war? A war without terrorism, without civilian deaths, intentional or as a consequence of some military action; an irrefutable just cause and supporting just causes, no unjust aims, no infliction of disproportionate harm to good, no use of weapons or tactics which cause unnecessary suffering; the war must be necessary to achieve the just cause, it must be fought by those who consented to fight in it, only the just combatants may kill enemy combatants without violating the others' rights, as just combatants alone have the legitimizing just cause… No war, then, would be just. If casualties are not permitted. Some deaths must be allowed to make the war permissible, to be justifiable, the weight of innocent deaths must be quantifiable, and room for sacrifice must be allowed. Or else, our war cannot be just.

Integra stood at the field of graves of those killed thirty years ago, when Nazi, Vatican, and Hellsing forces collided. How many the Vampire Alucard had killed, was doubted. He may not have killed a single civilian, but he had drunk the blood of thousands. And then he had disappeared.

…

In the car with the staff member driving her, his name unknown to her, she never got close to house staff anymore, Integra watched her window as a fine drizzle dusted it, and then droplets spattered. Then a downpour coated the car, as rain struck the metal and glass around them. "Seras."

"Yes, Sir Integra," the light, childish voice buoyed from the seat of the car, the girl phasing out of the casket that Integra rested her boots on. It was grey wood, nearly blueish, with a white cross that looked like polished ivory. Integra's boots rested below this cross, and the dirt from them did not tarnish it.

"Is the rain bothersome?"

As the molten light of her shadow arm escaped intermittently from her long sleeve and glove, casting a red glow towards her side of the car, the girl gave a bashful look, almost as though she were embarrassed or highly flattered by her mistress' consideration. "No, Sir Integra, I'm quite alright. Thank you for asking." She sat cheerily on the seat, one boot on the leather as she held onto her shoe, knee tucked to her chest, with a clear, happy-go-lucky smile. She had been in high spirits since the return of her master.

Whether or not the woman wanted this company, she now had it, and would not be rid of it. But Integra was thoughtful, and she looked to the window and was quiet. Her eye twitched only slightly when Seras Victoria began to hum some sort of Beethovian theme. "Seras."

"Yes, Sir?" The humming stopped, but the voice carried its own melody. Its own joyous celebration.

"Is Alucard asleep back there?" Integra was referring to the second car which followed theirs. It was supposed to be occupied by four or so additional body guards, to keep by her side, as usual, with Seras Victoria flitting about on the outskirts of the meeting. This arrangement was supposed to keep the hostility to a minimum while retaining a sense of self-preservation.

Seras beamed and the melodious tone sang, "Dead as a doornail. It's still too early for him to be up, Sir."

"But you know he's sleeping?" Integra spoke to her reflection in the streaming glass.

"I'm certain. It's almost as though the car is empty."

Integra's head turned to lay a cobalt near-glare on the eternally youthful forty-nine year old vampire girl. The girl waved her hands in a busy manner, as though she had a great deal to explain. "But of course he's there. I promise, Sir. I know he's there, and he's asleep, and he's not getting himself into any trouble. Thankfully." She laughed, and the awkward notes she struck made Integra doubtful. But the woman merely huffed, and propped her chin up on her palm, her elbow pressed into her knee. Then she clasped her hands and stared into the space between her shoes.

"This will be… a wearisome experience."

The girl laughed, her fanged smile wide. "It'll be a night to remember."

*~*~::..+..::~*~*

"Chief Makube."

The scarred face rose from the lines of text the man had been reading, reclining in his arm chair in his personal office. The chief of Section XIII wore one of two masks. One was of dull boredom, as if everything in the world failed to impress him and remained eternally inconsequential to his person. The second was the goading, bastardly smirk that curled his lips and crinkled his eyes. He removed his reading glassed, folding them before opening their case. "They're here already? Hellsing is early!" He laughed and the case snapped over his glasses. He left his book on the side table, while the assistant turned off the lamp and followed him.

"Yes, Chief. I came to inquire about the tea. What would you have us serve the Hellsing operatives and Sir Hellsing?"

"What did we have in mind?" Humor danced on his lips and rolled over his tongue like a cherry pit.

"London Fog."

Makube laughed heartily and gave 'clearance' for the decision. But the assistant lingered, dithering before asking whether they should provide some sort of variety to choose from. Makube's face assumed its duller mask. "Oh Please, Pieter. Please. This is Hellsing. I wouldn't care if you served them piss. I just do this for appearance's sake. To show that we are civilized, have class, and know our manners." His hazel eyes gleamed, and a smile tilted with anger slit across his white teeth. "Serve them the London Fog, and make it pleasant. We will show them our powers of self-restraint."

The man nodded, nearly bowing as he hurried off. After washing his face and freshening up, Chief Makube strode down a corridor alone, but he was alone only briefly. The Regenerator, Heinkel Wolfe, soon matched his stride. Her bandages fluttered from her sexless face, and she grunted in her low and hollow speech. "Seras Victoria will be allowed to enter, again?"

He smiled in his unpleasant way. "So long as I don't have to look at the whore, I couldn't care less where she is. The Protestant heiress wants to bring her little harlot, fine. I'll allow what pleases her." His spread, open hands came together, as though in prayer, as the smile thinned and yet stretched wider. He glanced at Heinkel, and then tightened his hands into fists, his knuckles digging into one another. And his face suddenly dropped his masks and corrupted with his loathing for the woman. "One day. I hope to live to spit on her grave. We suffer their presence and grant them our own. We have to breathe the same air their filthy bodies exhale, in the same room, filled with their stench, because his Holiness thinks it wise to remain on amiable terms."

The man sighed through gritted teeth, then shut his eyes, swept back a few strands of trailing silver hair which had hung over his face, and then he smiled through his recovered mask and saw Heinkel's unreadable features. All he ever saw in them were rage, torment, and hellish wrathful flames. It delighted him, and he was quite in love with her, in a most platonic sense of comradery. As they approached the door to the tea room, the Iscariot guards who stood at their established posts either stepped aside and unlocked the door, or opened it for the two highest ranking Iscariots in Section XIII.

With his hands tucked behind him, clasped firmly at his back, Makube entered the room with his offensive grin displayed, and the trailing bandages of Heinkel Wolfe followed.

They had both frozen when they saw Seras Victoria openly watching them, now smirking as she sat on the couch, legs crossed with her immodestly short skirt hitched to its limit. She held a tea cup she had been sipping, clearly not for pleasure but for some other effect, and now she set it on its saucer. It was almost as though she was playing the role of a polite young woman, but her humor and thrill at seeing Heinkel dispelled the illusion.

Integra's deep breath and long sigh reanimated the Iscariots as she reminded them of their 'meeting,' "How long are you going to keep us waiting this time?" She didn't turn her head to look at them, but waited for the two Iscariots to sit down across from her. There were two tables, one for each couch, so that those seated at one were yards apart from the other. It was nearly comical, but the arrangement held its own valid precautions.

Chief Makube hid his fury flawlessly, though inside his sense of outrage billowed whenever his gaze drifted off to the left of Sir Hellsing, to the vampire girl who continued to antagonize them by taking sips of tea. Suddenly the scarlet eyes noticed him, and Seras smiled. "Your tea is very good."

His voice empty of the stiffness he felt in the rest of his body, Chief Makube chuckled, "That's good. A vampire thinks our tea is good." God damn her.

His own tea was Jasmine, but now he could not think of enjoying it. Heinkel Wolf of course had no tea. She couldn't drink from cups of any kind. Her emerald gaze drifted from Seras for a moment, and found Integra Hellsing watching her. But the Hellsing woman's expression was pensive; she was looking for something. Apparently she had not found it, because nothing registered before the Hellsing eye darted to Makube. "How are you fairing?"

Makube leaned back, and he seemed to be receiving some sort of joke, though Integra had been cool and serious. He even chuckled, "Fairing? Well, we're flourishing." His wide gesture seemed to present the room, their set up, as evidence for his claim. But he was referring to a much bigger picture. The Vatican had been gaining some popularity in recent years, which was reflected in this gathering of enemies. But they were far from their former glory. "Our members are multiplying, are technology is advancing, our vampires are dying by the dozens." He clapped his hands and then knitted his fingers, placing his wrists on the table. His eyes gleamed. "We couldn't be better."

"Hm." Integra's eye shut as she took up her tea. She looked at it, unimpressed, and set it down. Apparently this rejection had been taken as a personal insult, as Makube sneered before amending his lips with a more suitable smile.

"So how is Hellsing these days? And how is your health, Sir Hellsing?"

Integra's lips twitched, and slowly Makube realized it was out of amusement. "Oh I'm doing quite well. But I think you saw that at my private sparring match with Penwood."

Makube blinked and his expression grew more bitter. "Oh, yes. It was a wonderful display of youthful vigor, for a woman of your age."

Integra snorted and leaned into the armrest, her head in her hand as she smirked at the man. But again she glanced at Heinkel Wolfe, and the Regenerator found no explanation for this unusual attention. But more than that, Heinkel glowered at Seras Victoria, briefly. There was nothing that explained her appearance, or the absence of the guards who usually attended to Integra Hellsing.

Heinkel growled at the vampire, who looked pleased by her hostility. "So should we expect you to accompany your Master on these visits from now on? Victoria."

"Perhaps." Seras smiled at the glowering green eyes, so much like the previous paladin's, and then she gave Sir Integra a light and merry laugh. "May I? I think it's a splendid idea."

Makube paled with icy rage, but this ebbed as Integra tilted her head. She seemed a little weary. "We'll see how this goes." Integra watched the chief placidly. "What is your opinion on the matter?"

"Excuse me?" His lashes fluttered in a near coquettish manner, but his grin was venomous. "You're just now taking my opinion into account?"

Dully, Integra responded. "And why not?"

The man leaned back, the Iscariot operatives in the room standing like statues in the corners. "Seeing as you've already brought her with you, and had her seated here beside you, I assumed my opinion didn't matter."

The cobalt eye roamed Makube's unstable features, but no alarm was shown for his flickering temper. Integra spoke to Heinkel, which was rare, as the Regenerator was usually more 'ornamental' during such occasions. "I've heard you've become quite active in Ireland."

Heinkel denied nothing.

The cool Hellsing eye was steady, entwined with the emerald glinting stare. "I find it interesting that you've been getting word of vampire infestations before we get wind of them. How is that?" Her chin rested on her knitted knuckles, and she leaned on the table over the steam of her rejected tea. "Or we can keep this little matter a secret, seeing as you're accomplishing what we would have, and saving us the expense."

The uncovered teeth of Heinkel Wolfe gritted visibly, and her head bent forward as she hissed at Hellsing, "I do my job for the Vatican's sake, for the people's sake. Not to save you anything."

"Please, please." Makube gestured for peace, his smirk strong as dancing hazel irises assessed Integra haughtily. "No need for this business of territory, what is ours or yours, and etcetera. We work together now," the sinister lines in the chief's face blunted Integra's mood; she blinked slowly and seemed bored. "Am I right? Sir Hellsing?"

"Yes, of course you're right, Makube. As you like to be."

Her dullness seemed to ignite the chief's temper once more, as he brought his hands together swiftly, and pressed them, overlapping one another, into the table. His fingers curled violently, though his tone was the same as before. "As I like it… As I like it." His fists were brought to his lips, and they pressed down, hard, as he breathed in sharply through his nose. His raptorial eyes were set on Sir Integra. And Seras had discarded her casual, pleasant demeanor.

Seras Victoria's voice was low, as she recognized the Catholic's murderous fanaticism in his quivering eyes. "Chief Makube."

But the man composed himself, sitting up smiling and seeming bemused by the Hellsings' hard looks. "What? We're all friends here. As his Holiness wishes. And as your Queen desires. No one will be killing anyone," the fists were again at his mouth, as if holding his fluttering mask in place, "for now."

Integra noticed movements in the corner of the room, but knew the general flourish Makube liked to add to his peaceable threats. The Iscariots were reminding them of their place, and of their numbers. And of Hellsing's current inferiority to the somewhat more powerful Vatican.

Makube smiled behind his sharp knuckles, his eyes on Sir Integra. "No one will die today. I promise you."

The hazel eyes blinked wide and upwards as the icy marble-like fingers dug into Makube's brow, the large hand pulling the chief's head back and out of his fists, so that the man was pressed into the cushions of the couch. The crimson light that blazed over Makube's startled and paled features, showed amusement and slight excitement, as the undead breath wafted like steam from between the Vampire Alucard's jagged maw. "Ah, yes. He is so much like Maxwell, the resemblance is uncanny."

Alucard's attention flicked to Heinkel Wolfe, to the twin pistols which were directed at his face. But her wide, disbelieving, unshackled eyes gaped as her uncovered teeth moved, parted and voiceless. She clenched them, and attempted to resurrect her usual animosity. But she failed. And as Alucard released the astounded and ignorant chief's skull, Heinkel's guns lowered, and she grunted, "Back to your posts, men. You're of no use against him. And we're not allowed to fire upon Hellsing dogs." The aversion in her voice entered without apparent cause, and she kept a narrow stare on the smiling pale monster, who towered over her, as well as the chief. The black mane of the Nosferatu whipped dangerously as the madness in his eyes bloomed, but now faded. The hair stilled. And Heinkel could not fill her lungs.

All she could see in the monster's hellish orbs was the reflection of her Father's face.

The Vampire Alucard stepped casually around the Iscariot's table, and walked towards his master's. With the back of the crimson coat to him, Makube slammed his fists into the table, and glared at all of the occupants in the room, standing straight and turning in bewilderment. He raised his hands and cried out, "And what is this?" He looked at Sir Integra specifically, "You've threatened me," he jabbed at his own chest, and then twisted back to scowl at the Iscariots in the room, "And you! You did nothing! Heinkel-!" he whipped back to the Regenerator, doubt and astonishment, and hints of suspected betrayal in his unspoken accusation. He knew of Enrico Maxwell's fate, and the role the previous Regenerator had played. "What were you doing? Since when do you stop to make small talk in this sort of situation?"

As no one answered him, Makube steadied his breath and battled his racing heart. His chest moved as his heart thudded, and his naked features were bared to the man who turned to face him, who smirked with molten irises and a pompous stance. Suddenly the chief turned to anger as his mode of expression, and his fist landed once more upon the table, jarring the silverware and tea things. "How dare you! And what?" He hissed first at Seras Victoria, who seemed taken aback by this, and then at Sir Hellsing who was rather sober and composed. This composure only blew up the chief's fury, and he pointed at her, against his code of acceptable conduct, and snarled, "Another Vampire? A second Vampire? Hellsing is allowed only a single demon!" The china trembled as the fist fell like a hammer.

While the chief stood hunched and seething with hatred, Integra actually believed, for a moment, that the peace treaty would be broken, here and now. But Heinkel Wolfe preserved the treaty as she laid a heavy hand on the chief's shoulder. He looked to her, another sort of anger flitting through his glower. She was stony, and sounded strange. His hand had lowered to his gun, but with her tone, he withdrew it. "Calm yourself, before you do something that might ruin us."

Ruin us. Makube sat down roughly, and assessed the trio before him. His finger stroked his chin as no emotion and no mask was displayed. He crossed his legs and leaned into the couch, gazing at the unknown vampire. He muttered, "You've gained a second vampire. You know that the making of fledglings is prohibited." She said this to Integra, but his complaint turned to Seras Victoria, who stared, dumbfounded.

"You-" the girl's gloved finger pointed to herself, as she grinned in disbelief, "You think he's my fledgling?"

The barreling laughter that broke from the Vampire Seras Victoria confused the chief only further, and more so for the poor Iscariots who stood about the room, restrained by Heinkel's order to stand down. Heinkel Wolfe showed nothing, her eyes extinguished for the first time in Makube's memory. The chief did not react with anger this time, but only looked at them questioningly, arms folded, waiting.

"I've missed the joke."

Seras seemed to have had her fill, and she, still beaming, spoke warmly, for once, and she appeared friendly. "Chief Makube," her palm indicted the anonymous vampire, "this is my Master. …Master, as you've already figured out, this is the head of the Iscariot."

Makube frowned, puzzled, slow to accept impossibilities. He had to assume it was some sort of expression, nothing literal. "A teacher of yours then? A newly adopted monstrosity?"

At this time Heinkel Wolfe had had enough. She had remained standing, but now sat down beside her leader, her head low, and her hands clasped with bandages trailing over them. "He is the Vampire Alucard." The hazel eyed astonishment was felt, and Heinkel continued, staring into her hands, unable to raise her head. "He contributed to my predecessor's demise."

"I'm sorry."

Emerald stuck fast to the Vampire Alucard, as his cooled gaze remained before her. For these words to have come from him, for these words to be the first he said to her… Her heart and her ruined feature's twisted in pain, and for the first time in decades, Seras Victoria pitied the nun and showed only sympathy.

Alucard was standing beside the couch, at Seras' side. He was sane, or at least settled, though Heinkel could not truly sense him… while, contradictive to this, she also felt he was present, but a world away, reaching out and placing his fingertip into their reality, as if dipping a finger into a fish bowl. And he was swirling the contents, but gently. It was difficult to put into words. "Father Anderson's choice was his own. I never wished for our battle to end as it did. I would have stopped him, but it was not my place to."

Heinkel did not look away, and neither did the Vampire Alucard.

Only Makube rose, as if to butt his head into the moment. "Alucard? The dead Alucard? DEAD Alucard?"

"Undead," Seras Victoria happily corrected him, and the chief of the Iscariot frowned at her, not appreciating her aid.

Then he looked to the acclaimed Hellsing vampire, the original, the nearly legendary Alucard, Dracula, Count. And experiencing the terrible consideration of the balance of power suddenly tilting to such an extreme, and feeling himself clinging to his place, but in a futile effort, Makube rested his hand on the table. "Well, get out then. I can only handle one vampire at a time," he scowled at Alucard as a dark brow rose, "You're making me nauseous."

"I would like to speak with you, in private… Demon Spawn." Heinkel still spoke in the oddly smoothed and quiet tone that was unfamiliar to Makube, and he made some protests about her leaving him alone with Seras Victoria, all of which the Regenerator ignored. Alucard viewed her as he continued to take in her familiar and unnatural scent, smelling the Judas Priest without having him present… The vampire looked to a door that was set between two Iscariots, in a sort of affirmation; the change in him brought about by her intimate words was veiled by neutrality. Alucard asked Integra about her opinion, and she merely nodded, and would not look at either of the monsters. Seras alone showed her sadness plainly.

The Vampire Alucard and the Regenerator stepped into the other room, and shut the door, as the others looked on. Integra took a sip of her London Fog, before she finally pushed it away for the last time.