Disclaimer: I don't own any of the content or characters from Hellsing, although I wish I owned Alucard :(
Setting: Volume 7, right after pip dies.
How FittingAnd her head exploded, thin spiny needles making a row of itching dots all the way from the center of her forehead to the back of her head.
She plunged her face down into the warm bloody locks, using her arm to rip the throat apart. The blood poured, streamed. She fed convulsively, in a fit of anger and desperation. She fed with all the ferocity of a frustrated child who could not protect that which was theirs. She fed with all the ferocity of her weakness in the past, all the helplessness bred from every destroyed soul that she couldn't save.
Her belly filled and warm, her blood vessels throbbed. The energy pumped into every fibre she possessed, and the prickling from before concentrated itself to the front of her face. One short, stinging spasm, and she tentatively eased open her eyelid.
The rays speared into her newly formed retina, and in it's untainted black was seared in red the image of the object she hated. All the bullies, all the bad people in her life, the murderers of her parents, the little boys that used to hit and tease her in the orphanage, the adults that never listened, they all spiraled and converged into that slipping sneer before her.
And they were all afraid.
She was being be filled, filled by something strong and fluid. And she knew that she wasn't alone. There was someone inside her, supporting her battered body, fuelling her torn biological tissue. Together, together they would crush them!
Bullets cracked through the air by her ears. She jumped, up, and threw herself down on them, her foes, all of them. She tore them apart, to pieces. These 'vampires', these weaklings; they would crush them. Nothing less would satisfy her anger; she beat herself through all the troops, one by one, all at once.
Finally there! Her goal! And she grabbed the monsters face with the hand she had left. She felt how it struggled under her grip, how it tried to pathetically fend itself. How could she have lost to this! She jerked her head, using her fangs to rip through the annoying fist that was feebly beating her face.
It tried its trick again, tried a last, desperate illusion, surprisingly weak and absurd. The spell was all wrong, mixed up, the shattered memories artificially welded together, into a puzzle with too many pieces.
The spell was now nothing more than a flicker in the fabric of her reality, and she picked up the struggling creature. It was already decided. It will be destroyed.
She shoved its head into the wall, the rough stone walls of the Hellsing headquarters. It was fitting to see how all the ability and all the psyche of this monster should be ground away, like guilty, stained hands rubbed raw and red. There was going to be nothing left, no evidence of such a creature to have ever existed.
Pushing the head deeper and deeper into the wall, she ran faster and faster, the delicious grinding satisfying.
The face was gone, spread as a crimson and yellow streak on the cool rock. What was left in her hand, intact, was just another body, blending among all the other already twisted bodies.
The monsters were all dead now. The nightmare was finally defeated.
And the inner storm settled, the burning cooled. She felt oddly passive, but not tired. Slowly she pulled herself out of her rage, and was back, new and fresh, like the opening of a flower after a battering rain.