Prelude

A Product of the Twisted Minds of Black 13 Productions

Disclaimer: Reno is not ours; his original concept is copyright Square for Final Fantasy 7. His interpretation, however, is ours, along with parts of his background. All the same, the setting and a good majority of the characters/locations belong to Kouta Hirano-sama for his manga/anime series, Hellsing. Parts of Rip's background are fabricated by us.

Chapter 1

He was trying to keep out of all the spots of silver moonlight as it poured through the canopy of leaves in the dark trees around him, a red wolf whose brilliantly red fur was dulled in the shadows he tried to keep to. Bless the fact that the moon was only half-full tonight; he would be in big trouble if it were new or completely full. Those were times when he was completely vulnerable, unable to change back into his human form and he would need his human form if his wolf form were bounced back to its territory at … wherever it was the beast went to when not in use on that plane of existence. As of right at that moment, he needed speed more than anything and so he found himself running on all fours. It always felt a bit odd when in this form; there were more muscles shifting about to power the creature. The extra power was very much appreciated, though, as it pelted him forward like a bullet, the massive padded paws barely making a sound in the underbrush. It was at moments like these he thanked whatever god got him a job as a Turk; being one of those secret mercenaries seemed to have honed his abilities to dodge things in the dark.

Around him in the trees that ran alongside the river he was following, he could hear them. FREAKed vampires were such stupid clumsy things and obviously did not believe in silence. Hence he was running close to a body of water; his scent would be lost over the stronger flowing scent of so much water.

However, he knew that hidden somewhere in the ranks in pursuit of him, there were others who were just as silent as he was. They were the ones he had to keep all his senses trained on. They were the ones that would bring him down if he was not careful. His ears flicked about against the air that rushed passed him and forced them back to his cranium. He was giving up a little of his aerodynamic frame, flicking his ears about like that, but it would hopefully help more in the long run. His nose didn't work out here; the damned thing picked up the pathetic vampire wannabes floating around in the dark trees around him and the river close by, a disadvantage to his following it. Not even the peaceful smells of the pine and the maple or that of the river nearby came through the former's stench, however, a reeking scent so thick one could easily cut it with a knife, in his opinion. Than again, lycans and vampires never really did get along too well…

He glanced by a spot of the moonlight that crept through the trees, a small bit that barely caught his form and shone silver-red across his fur. Sadly, it also hid something else from view; a small puddle of water was expertly hidden in the foliage and flickering light. His front paws hit the little pool and splashed, alerting the vampires around him to his current location. There was no noise emitted from his snout as the water of the puddle splashed around his front and wetted the fine red fur, just an odd crow-hop as he bounded straight up and then diagonally to his left once or twice and forward into a darker, more shadowed area in the trees ahead. He hoped no one would find him before he formulated a plan.

Brilliant white-blue eyes caught sight of a tall thick bush as he exited the more lightened area and, without sound as he hopped across the near-black foliage-ridden ground, he bounded into the plant and plopped himself as close to the ground as possible so he could catch his breath and determine his next move without much disruption. It seemed that his bounce into the brush had thrown off his pursuers; he heard and smelled the vampires in pursuit of him running passed, most of them hitting that same pool of water that had given away the wolf they were trying to catch. None of them even stopped to look into his haven, despite the fact that his entire front from his chin down was covered in water. For the love of all things holy, he probably smelled like wet dog beyond all belief and yet these idiot vampires were completely blind to it smell-wise. Still, his black nose kept twitching and his ears remained perked forward and swiveling about like radar dishes. Just in case…

While he kept an 'eye' (really, it was more of an ear and as much of a nose as he could use right then) on his surroundings, he also analyzed his next move. What felt like eons as a Turk before had honed his survival and tactical skills and now being a werwolf added more to that which he had already learned, had sharpened what he knew.

He could go to Berlin, back toward the west, where the chopper was waiting to take him back to London. But after he had been discovered on their base, obviously Millennium would set troops there to catch him since their leaders (though more than just insane) were not entirely stupid; in fact, they were quite intelligent strategically, though in his prideful mind, not as good as he. For good reason, Berlin was out of the question.

Then there was the wonderful little town not too far south-easterly from his present location, Wolfsburg. The name not only attracted him, it rather applied to him. He could run from the woods here to the railroad tracks and follow them into the town, call headquarters, and tell them to send the chopper over to his new location. That would be best. At that rate, he'd be back home before the evening tea Walter would be serving and those damn Nazis wouldn't know what hit them until he was clean out of the country. After all, he wasn't known as the 'Red Shadow' for nothing. Had his current form allowed him to grin wickedly, guaranteed he would definitely be grinning as deviously as he could.

He continued to wait patiently under the bush, listening carefully for the last of the vampire troops to pass, feeling the thud of their heavy footfalls through the ground under him grow fainter as they passed by. Ten minutes had passed since the supposed last Nazi bloodsucker had passed him by and finally his nose was cleared from that overwhelming despicable scent of decay, rotting blood, and long-overlooked B.O... Slowly, he turned about as quietly as he could, slid from under the bush and, after a final look around, ran.

Every muscle seemed to fire at once, launching the wolf forward through the undergrowth with little effort. There was very little rustling as he flew passed bushes or low-hanging branches, his fur glistening dully in the faint light as the trees around him began to thin.

He was able to see where the trees finally dissipated into the German countryside, saw the upraised dirt-and-gravel embankment of the railroad a little ways out. Maybe only a few hundred yards from the treeline. If he could only make it to the tracks, he was home free for the most part. Sure, there was a greater risk of being spotted out there in the open, but between his sense of duty and his just plain recklessness (something he had always been known for, even when he was 'human'), he was willing to risk it all. At this point, he would be closer to getting home and be able to defend himself if he was spotted and attacked.

Upon seeing the moonlight in the unclouded sky above gleaming off the railroad ties, his body hugged the ground for a more aerodynamic position and he darted from the trees. It was a short distance from the safety of the tiny wood behind him to the raised earth that housed the wood and steel tracks, his front half turning just slightly as he reached the middle of aforementioned embankment and shooting his massive yet sleek form sharply to his right.

As he ran in the gravel and soft dirt along the railway, he could not help but shake the feeling that he was being followed. Well, with the price of retreating with information came the price of constant paranoia until one got back to home base.

But still…

This was a feeling he couldn't help but feel deep in his instinct. There really was someone after him, someone he didn't want to tangle with. That was the sense he got from all of this. He was so deep in thought that when the one o'clock train came clacking up the tracks full of coal and oil, it scared him. He shied slightly from the railroad, his stride stumbling for but a moment as he made his way to the base of the tracks' upraised earthen platform. As the train passed him by, he suddenly felt the toll of the fatigue of running for so long, hard, and fast.

He ran a little ways further until he was sure he could continue no longer, looking off to the side into the following trees to choose a suitable spot. Some ways down the tracks, back toward the river, he thought he had found it; it rested next to the curving river and looked like a good secluded spot... Slowing to a lethargic trot, he made his way into the little haven of trees, hoping he would be able to wait out the rest of the commotion there before continuing on.

He stopped and looked around to make absolutely positive that he was not being followed before bending down for a fast drink from a small creek that merged with the bigger river some ways down. He was more tired than he lead himself to believe, realizing it only after he found a good hiding spot next to a fairly decently-sized tree. His wolf form blurred and melted away to reveal his human form, a good energy conservation trick. And still, he couldn't shake the feeling of being watched (although it was more like stalking, really). He kept a vigilant watch over his surroundings for about five minutes before the tiredness of his flight took its toll on the werwolf and those bright blue eyes were slowly veiled to the world.

Like the tortoise and the hare, the nap was his downfall.

He was awakened by whispers. Normally he would be able to sleep through things like such, thinking it was the wind. These whispers, on the other hand, were not the sounds of the light summer breeze moving through the trees. These were honest-to-God whispers, voices speaking low in volume and in German to boot. The latter was what set him off, fully waking his mind and making every sense alert again.

The shocking blue eyes of the once-sleeping wolf were snapped open, catching the patched light of the moon through the trees around him silhouetting tall lanky figures. His pointed ear tips twitched lightly and curved a little bit more to catch echoes of what they were saying and, most importantly, location of each and every one of them. After a few moments of listening in, he determined they were on all sides of him, or at least that was how it sounded. These must have been the others he felt when running away from the main troops. Perhaps, if he was lucky, they did not see him and were merely passing by his location…

Yeah right. he thought to himself. With skin as white as mine seems to be, it's surprising I don't glow like a lighthouse…

Well, at least he knew that his camouflage of sorts was done and over with. If he was lucky enough, they might – just might – pass him by and so, even though he knew deep inside they had really located him, he remained still and waited for their first move. His own thoughts on himself proved all too true; his pale skin caught the faint light of nearby spots of moonbeams and shone like a beacon in the night, something he took fast note of and cursed himself for his repulsed idea on sunlight touching his skin unless it had to.

He was not really sure what exactly let him know that he had been found out. Maybe it was the fact that not too long after he had mentally acknowledged the other beings' existence, he was immediately held at gunpoint by one of them, and from a tree of all places. There was a moment of time where the call had been sent out from the one in the tree, a scramble ensuing that enabled him to closer study the weapon that was threatening his very well-being.

His brow furrowed, the creases heavy and dark on his pale face. Was that a … vintage musket?

He shrugged it off for the moment, sure he'd understand it one day. He had seen weirder weapons used against people. Like Alucard, for one example. Good Gods only knew that the vampire was definitely a strange weapon, albeit the most psychotic one he had come across since the hell his ex-organization endured with the rogue SOLDIER, Sephiroth.

He responded to the orders of 'Stand up!' well enough, never mind the fact that the middle finger of his right hand was shot up alongside the devious smirk that began across the wolf's face as he rose to his feet. There was a loud shout across the group; obviously his display of defiance was not so kindly met.

Good.

That was the plan… Now if he could only fluster them all a bit more, he could use the chaos to escape. The one in the tree tipped the musket upward so that the maw of the firearm tapped lightly on the bottom of his chin. Quite obviously, his intentions were read by his ever-vigilant guard in the tree.

The pale blue gaze of the wolf was cast upward in the direction he saw the length of the monster gun disappear into the foliage. "Watch it, sugar. I rather like my face intact, thank you very much." he warned the figure hidden in the shadows, his tone reflecting his trademark cool attitude.

There was a small noise from the trees above. It wasn't all rustling around. Hell, it sounded more like a growl than anything else. It was a sure sign that whatever was in the tree did not like his calling it 'sugar'. Well too damn bad. He'd have his way, whether it liked it or not.

He was set on pulling out at the very least an outline of the being in the tree when someone else took a step forward and cleared their throat. "Reno Sinclair, also known as ze 'Red Shadow' in ze underground…"

The speaker was German, but it was difficult to really place a gender given the fluctuating tones of such a voice. Whatever it was, it sounded like it had hit puberty. Reno stood there with his usual calm façade, looking bored … with the barrel of a vintage musket practically attached to his throat.

"Can we get on with it? If you know so much about me to call me by name, you obviously know I have a tight schedule to keep…" he said then, crossing his arms at his chest for a brief second and making to lean against the tree when the musket was once more bounced lightly against his chin. That was the last straw! His arms were uncrossed, the right index finger pointing up where he thought the gunman to be, his voice raised in annoyance. "I swear to fucking God! Touch me with that fucker again, buddy, and I will make it a God damn wood and iron suppository!"

There was a moment of silence from both parties. However, his outburst seemed to have worked; the musket's lengthy barrel became perfectly still, though it remained pointed at his chest region now. At least it wasn't hitting his chin. Of that, he was grateful. At that moment, he was trying to think up a way to get out of here, that innocent ignorant pup he normally kept locked deep in the back of his mind starting to panic. Panic like … like …….

Panicking like a cornered animal… he thought to himself, once more casting his icy gaze around at those surrounding him. Which is exactly what I am to them, isn't it?

In the confused silence that ensued from his outburst, he took note of the one who had addressed him. Shorter than their comrades, he noted, and with protrusions from the head. Like dog ears or … or cat ears. By the feline scent … cat's. Most definitely. And yet, they were all still conferring over him. For strategically brilliant leaders, the cronies sure were idiots, no matter how intelligent they made themselves appear to be with managing to track him down…

Reno looked around, off to his left. Here, he noticed a flaw in their perimeter; there was a gap there he could easily slide passed somewhere near the cat … thing. But first, his gunman. Well, he knew how to fluster that one easily enough. A cocky grin spread across the werwolf's face before he saluted and winked.

"Good work, sugar, but you can't keep me caged with lock and key, ya know. Gotta run; wild animal, after all…" A louder growl ensued from the trees above him, followed by the rustling and snapping of branches and leaves; whoever was up there was coming down to actually deal with him, face-to-face.

Well … well shit! The thought passed his mind as the musket was drawn upward, the maw of the barrel almost taking his face off on its way up. It seemed the one behind the weapon was someone everyone had attentions on; all conversation ceased as soon as the massive gun was drawn away from its intended target.

For a moment, Reno had no idea what he was going to do. Until it presented itself to him in the form of the Nazis looking stunned to the tree and the musket's absence; this was his open window, right here. A salute and sharp whistle was given to the figure still in the tree.

"See ya, sugar." he laughed. "Right now, I've got a cat to chase…"

Indeed, he spoke true; his intentions were to go straight for the cat-kid and the gap next to him and he carried out his plan fairly well, he thought. He reveled in the commotion he created, figures darting from the left and right, the front and back toward him as he launched himself into the air. What little rest he had did him well in the fact that for the rest of the Nazis, he moved like a blur. Or more like the 'Red Shadow' he was known for.

His entire frame was beginning to bristle with red fur and he could feel his face popping from its original shape to that of the wolf -- becoming more elongated and narrow --, could see the look of surprise and fear in the pink eyes of the cat-creature … when something of substantial weight and force caught him square in the chest and knocked the breath out of him. The blow not only threw him backwards and into the place he started, it also slammed him back into his human form, gasping for air with a low humming ring in his ears.

Fucking double shit!

Black was starting to barely filter into his line of vision, only clearing when he was able to make his paralyzed chest muscles work, coughing as he took in air again. Over the dull drone that had momentarily taken over his hearing, he heard a woman (this was unmistakably a woman … that or a very effeminate man) say, "Zat vas for calling me 'sugar'…"

He didn't hear the growl over the ringing, but at least he knew who had hit him. The one in the trees had finally emerged. He rolled over, sitting in a crouch while he waited for the world to stop spinning. Still, he wasted no time in taking in his surroundings; still the tall shadowy figures (save the cat…thing; it was relatively short in comparison) and one with a musket.

A big musket. A very big, unusually long musket. With gold and bronze detailing along the stock.

So that's what he was hit with, neh? Felt like it…

Reno poked at his chest where he felt the thing hit, wincing. "Yeah … a-yup … That's gonna bruise…" he muttered before looking up at the one with the musket, giving a small pained smile, sarcastic though it still looked. "D…did I say 'sugar'? I meant 'my lord'…"

This was met with the stock of the immense gun rising up to catch his chin from below, sending him backwards again. The ringing returned and he tasted something coppery in the fore of his mouth; blood.

"Zat ist no vay to speak to ein fraulein." she growled at him and he barely heard her over his mild coughing fit, the ringing, and the slight laughter rising from her comrades.

Still, he thought of something to retort with amid thoughts of, Idiot… You're certainly on a one-way track to your death… Of course, he flipped about thoughts of whether or not there was a heaven for good werwolves, though he dismissed it with his next words.

"Ah, so we have gender distinction." he said, pointing one wobbly index finger into the air while he tried once more to stand. He wove to one side violently, then the other, before he steadied himself.

Yup. Werwolves go to hell…

This conclusion came shortly after the barrel of the musket caught him across the face and knocked him over again. The world swam once more, his breath coming in wheezes through his throat. Through determination (and a lot of it), he managed to roll himself over onto his back, finding the musket resting just next to his head, stock-side down. His eyes and attention, however, were directed elsewhere.

Like the lanky sharp-suited young woman braced over him using the musket as support. She had blue eyes and long ebony hair swept back away from her face. A single stiff lock was dangling in front of her face and curled and that at least gave him something to concentrate on.

When his voice came back into his throat, he made note of it. "Y…you know that … that curl?" He caught her look up briefly at it before returning that fiery gaze back at him. "That curl … is hot."

He meant it as sarcasm, something to take his mind off the fact that it felt like one of his ribs was probably fractured (or broken) and he was most definitely missing a tooth. She didn't seem to think it was funny though. Her cheeks flushed bright red and the musket was raised again. Reno winced away from it, readying for probably the worst blow he would endure … when a static-y voice broke the tense silence.

"Ah ah ah, Rip Van. Ve need him alive."

The musket paused and was held still with great control, those blue eyes turning slowly to look with obvious hatred toward the speaker. She really wanted to beat the wolf into submission. The cat-thing held a small screen showing a chubby Aryan face smiling in a calm deranged way through a veil of static.

"Major!" Rip Van sounded surprised, standing up in something of an attention stance.

I'll eat my shorts if her last name's 'Winkle'… Reno joked with himself in the sanctity of his mind. If he only knew how he had doomed himself…

"Ve varned you he had a mouth on him." the Major chuckled. "Do not take it personally if vat he said offended you. I know his tactics. Zey vill not vork." A sigh was given, followed by a pause. "I zink you haf 'roughed him up' plenty. Time to bring him in. He ist not going back to London for a very, very long time."

A sudden surge of adrenalin raced through Reno's body and it helped him dull the pain of getting his ass handed to him by a woman, of all things. Especially one so short to the trigger as this one seemed to be. Using the newly restored reserve of energy, he shook off what fog still remained in his mind and rolled over, lifted himself off the ground, and stumble/stormed his way across the small clearing toward the screen. The cat-kid gave a small indiscernible noise and took a few steps back away from the wolf, who was soon being held back and restrained by its comrades. Despite his struggling against his captors, his words still flew flawlessly.

"You don't know anything, you little rat bastard! You don't know me or my tactics or anything save my reputation! I'm going back to London sooner than you think and not you or your pathetic peons are going to stop me!" He spit on the screen then, the normal clump of saliva replaced by a bloody stream conjured from the empty socket of the lost tooth. "Burn in fucking Hell! You'll get nothing out of me!"

All that met him was the ever-joyous sounding laughter of the Major. "I zink you vill be staying for longer zan you zink, 'Red Shadow'. Much, much longer…"

After that, that last surge of energy dissipated and, after a wave of mild nausea swept over him, Reno was vaguely aware of the ground switching places with the sky before his world went black.

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

He dreamt of a girl.

She was a pretty little thing, if a bit sickly in appearance. Pale almost translucent skin covered a frail frame clothed in a sky-blue silk dress with a long train. The hem of the train was shaped, framing a series of expertly painted peacock feathers using iridescent fabric paint. Her hair was platinum-white and fell to her knees when bound up with a little crown-like hair ornament made of opals inlaid in silver. Strands of pearls were woven into the white locks, but what caught the attention most was not any of the previous features; her eyes held the attention. With dual colors, the left eye was what was termed a 'Mako Eye' back on his home planet; an icy blue-green color set on a slit pupil. Her right eye was the exact opposite; it writhed with living flames around a slit pupil, making her inherently special outside her normal abilities.

The girl was a Seer. An oracle. The names for those gifted with fore- or present-sight were innumerable and she was one of them, guaranteed. She sat in a room that was almost completely white save a few sparkling lights that seemed to fall from a non-existent ceiling, resting her fragile body upon a wicker armchair with her hair and skirt falling around her almost protectively. Her lovely face was twisted in an expression of what appeared to be fear.

"Reno, wake up!"

Her voice echoed in his mind, snapping him to consciousness. A bright florescent light made him wince and close his eyes again, a slightly amused thought of how he never knew his little oracle could actually reach across the present to keep someone safe. His thoughts flickered to whether or not her older brother knew she was doing something like that now.

It took a moment before he realized he was laying face-down in a puddle of blood and saliva. It must have dribbled from his mouth while he was out. Wouldn't have been the first time… He slowly opened one eye and let it get used to the blaring light, though in doing so, it also made him aware of a seething headache. Either he was just waking up from a hell of a party with a hang-over or that nasty-ass dream was not a dream at all.

He took a deep breath and damn near died coughing, his ribs hurt so much. Well, that answered that question… As soon as both his eyes had adjusted to the light, he set to work on getting up. It was quite a feat, since he hurt all over, but he did eventually make it into a crouch.

He noticed as he pushed himself up that his ponytail had come undone and was hanging about his face. It did not take too long afterward to notice that he had been completely stripped of his wardrobe. In short … he was sitting naked in a white room.

It was a very white room, with no windows or doors to see at first. It reminded him of those bad movies where some actor portraying God was supposed to flicker through some far wall or something…

"Maybe it really was a party." he thought aloud, very amused by the thought. "Too bad Tsu couldn't make it. Could've found him some company besides that dragon…"

He sighed and decided to take note of the damage before he didn't have time to. He looked down and inspected his bare chest. From his right hip diagonally to under his left armpit, a massive bruise had appeared. On the left side of his torso, he couldn't help but notice the area around the second or third rib up was swelling pretty severely. He poked the swelled area experimentally and winced painfully against the sharp sting that jolted through his system. It hurt, all right.

His face probably looked like it had been put through a meat-grinder; Mistress Rip Van had seen to that, now hadn't she? He still poked around the area of his cheeks and chin. His right cheek had swollen up, as was his bottom lip. The latter was cut and bleeding and one of his bottom molars on the right side was missing.

He was still poking at his (hopefully) temporarily deformed face when a hole the size and shape of a door opened in a back corner of the room and in waddled his 'good friend', the Major. He was short and disgustingly round with a mop of yellow-gold hair falling about his face. The florescent lights reflected off the lenses of a pair of round-framed glasses balanced in front of his eyes, effectively hiding them from anyone not directly standing in front of him. His squat, fat frame was clad head-to-toe in stark white cottons with equally white shined boots. Although he walked with a straight back and had an authoritive air about him, he still had a sort of waddle that took every ounce of control Reno had to keep from laughing at the little vampire.

Flanking him on one side was a tall gaunt figure dressed in a dirty white lab coat with a set of strange-looking glasses perched upon his nose; his glasses had two main lenses, then a bunch of smaller ones screwed into the wire frame along the sides of the main ones. Long white-gold hair hung in straight greasy strings about his face and he had a smirk plastered on his face that made the wolf want to back away as far as he could from him. He did not feel at all pleasant and the fact that the air hung around him with the thick scent of fresh and old blood didn't help matters at all.

The one on the other side was tall and fairly decently built. He was hidden mostly in a long coat with the collar turned up to hide his lower face. His upper face was mostly hidden by an old soldier's cap, the only things really evident about him being that his eyes were a startling blue and looked like he had been brainwashed; they kept looking ahead, on his captive yet right through him at the same time. From under the cap stuck random strands of white hair and this was contrasted with what little tanned skin was actually visible. Reno remembered that gaze that looked somewhere on the wall behind him, but chilled the blood as the gaze went through him; this second one was the one who had spotted him sneaking around their little base. He remembered that feeling of having all the blood in his system suddenly turn to ice.

His thoughts were taken up by this second, but changed suddenly when the Major cleared his throat. "I am quite avare zat mein compatriots are intriguing…"

"Disgusting…" Reno interrupted. His correction did not seem to phase the little vampire at all, something he found a tad frustrating. So much for Escape Plan A – Fluster and Use the Ensuing Chaos to Escape. Than again, it always was Plan B that worked, right?

"…To you. However, it vould be best for you if you paid attention to me for a moment."

God, even his voice is happy-happy-joy-joy… the wolf thought, a look crossing his face as though he had just swallowed an entire bucket of worms and was feeling their sliminess and squirming as they lay, waiting to die, deep in his gut. The Nazi's voice was grating on his sanity, or whatever was left of it. His horrified expression seemed to have caused a bit of disturbance; even though the Major still stood there with that ever-calm smile on his face, the stringy-haired freak with the glasses seemed to shrink away.

"All in all, you vere spotted on our little base here." the Major continued. "Zat means you normally gazer information, ja? A spy, if you vill. Even zough ve haf all ze information ve really need, it just vould not seem right to start a var vithout interrogating a spy first, ja?"

Glasses nodded with a twisted smirk on his face, but Silent remained just that; ever quiet, ever stoic. Reno decided he really didn't like that guy. He didn't like the situation he was in, honestly, but he hated that guy more. Which, as it turned out, was a rather favorable feat in itself, given the situation.

So. The little freak was going to torture him for information for the hell of it? For fun? And here, he'd thought he'd seen it all.

A thoughtful expression crossed that pudgy ever-jolly face of the short vampire before him. "So now. How about ve start vith somezing simple, ja?" he suggested and the tone he used sent a shiver coursing up Reno's spine. "How about … who do you vork for?"

Honestly, Reno had never really had a chance to put his counter-interrogation skills to work and, while they had never been used, the training he had endured to gain them was severe enough that his mind immediately switched to those methods. Without thinking, he had pushed all information in his head as far back out of reach as he could get it and started humming, curling up into a ball close to the wall, though it hurt him to do so. Useless trivia was always a good thing to pull forward and keep at the fore of thought when being asked questions with the prospect of torture behind them.

The Major seemed quite interested in what the red-haired wolf was doing and leaned forward slowly, carefully, putting that face practically in Reno's own. "Und vas are you doing, I vonder?" he inquired with a lilt to his voice that could have frozen the blood with the mere intent behind it.

The wolf's face was shot up to look eye to eye with the little vampire and he sang the lyrics in a loud obnoxious voice:

I know a song that gets on everybody's nerves

Everybody's nerves

Everybody's nerves!

I know a song that gets on everybody's nerves

And this is how it goes!

The German looked stunned at first, then his face split into a wide grin as he turned away from his captive, crying, "Vunderbar! He plays along so vell! Dok!"

What have I done? was the only thought that passed his mind. What have I doomed myself to?

Much to his chagrin, he watched as Glasses (still smirking in that sick way of his) pulled out a canvas roll fastened with a pair of belts. The belts were undone and the roll displayed a variety of tools of all shapes and sizes, the uses of each not something Reno really wanted to think about.

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

She found herself thinking about the red-haired wolf again.

As soon as her comrades had come back home, Rip Van had split off from them to head for the small officer's bar on the complex grounds. She had really been craving a glass of their fine red wine… As soon as she had received the requested drink, she couldn't help but watch the light play off the small ripples as the drink settled to calmness again in front of her. The red shot her back to the previous mission, remembering it and the victory to be had.

The alarm through the base had traveled swiftly; as soon as the red wolf had been spotted sniffing around the perimeter of the base, the alarm had been raised and all the troops notified to find a large red wolf about half the size of an average man. Not a hard target to follow, honestly, but she knew the utter lack of intelligence of the main troops. While their strength and endurance was unprecedented, their brains were severely lacking. And so the special troops had also been deployed.

Those were Rip Van and those she threw in with … and Schrodinger. The little cat-freak had nearly botched it, getting surprised as he had when the wolf had rushed him. Honestly, had it not been for Rip Van getting as upset as she had, they would have probably lost him.

A small almost disappointed smirk tugged her lips then. She was pining over a man who probably would not be alive passed the morning. All because the highlights of a glass of wine had been reminiscent of his red hair…

While she was thinking about him, her conscience popped forward. It always took the form of her uptight late mother. She could see the old woman's straight-upright form with that perfect posture and scolding waggling finger come into being from the fog of her mind.

Now, now. You should haf made sure he healed before giving him up so readily…

She had gone to take a drink of the wine when the words flickered through her head. Deep blue eyes rolled at them, the fluted glass held just before her lips, the tangy sharp scent tantalizing her nose.

"But to disobey orders is a bad idea…" she muttered back under her breath at the spectre and went once more to take a drink. "Und I razer like meinself intact und still walking on mein own, danke…"

Adelaide…

The tone now was more than scolding; it was that maternal threat all mothers got to before they became unhappy with a misbehaving child. Like she was ready to start punishing. This time, she ignored it for a moment and drained her cup in a single gulp, her face contorted mostly at the name used more than the sour tang of the wine.

"Fine. Haf it your vay." she grumbled, shouldering the musket across her shoulders, resting her wrists across it to hold it steady and balanced and heading for where she knew they held the captive wolf. "Und do not use zat name again. Mein name ist not 'Adelaide'. Not anymore…"

The trek through the halls was simple enough, giving a small nod to any and all who passed her. The figure of her conscience had gratefully faded away to be replaced with that wolf again. She only knew his name from Schrodinger, as he had used it at the wolf's capture.

She herself had said it a few times when she knew no one else could hear her, and needless to say, she liked how it rolled off her tongue and across her lips in those two syllables. She would have said it aloud now if it weren't for the group of soldiers stomping down the hallway.

Loud creatures; you could hear them coming for miles. It really wasn't any wonder that the captive had gotten as far as he had. She squeezed herself to the wall to let them pass, thinking bemused as she caught a whiff of their scent that no, it really would not have been surprising to have found the captive already in Berlin.

As soon as the group passed, she continued onward, finally turning to attention out of reflex in front of the door into the room she knew the red-haired wolf was being held. Her hand wrapped around the lever knob and turned it, the door opening easily. Odd that it wasn't locked… The room was soundproofed, something she had not known until the barrier had been moved.

She heard that unmistakable American accent singing what sounded like nursery rhymes as loudly and as annoyingly as he could possibly muster, though the scratchy tone in it said quite plainly that he was beginning to get hoarse. She slid into the room and shut the door … in time to see the Major swiping what looked like a slender metal cane across the face of …

Oh my!

It took a moment to realize that the wolf was completely devoid of clothing, but once she realized it, she flushed furiously and turned her attention to Doc. The cut across the face with the pole had not only stopped the singing for a moment, but left a fine spray of blood along the back wall that matched a fan of similar pattern on the other side of the victim's head. The singing was replaced by a fit of coughing.

It was accompanied by another of those smartass remarks she had heard earlier from him. "Fine. I didn't need that tooth, anyway…" He figured he was safe since she had come in and the Major had turned to face her.

"Ah, Rip Van! Vilkommen!"

Out of sheer habit and reflex, she snapped into an attention stance, then relaxed. "Danke but … vat exactly are you doing?" He seemed so … happy at that moment... which never bade well for whomever held his attention so.

"I am interrogating for information." was the simple joyous answer to which Rip Van's face twisted up into a look of mild confusion.

"But … I zought you had all ze information you needed…"

"I do. But ve haf a spy und … vell …" Here, he shrugged and turned back to Reno, who was pushing himself back up as best he could. "…Zis ist ze most fun I haf had in a very long time." Here, he leaned in a little to Rip Van and whispered, "Ve are still on ze first question after almost drei hours! Most break after un hour und un half! He hast been very vell trained."

He sounded so excited that she almost felt bad for requesting what she was about to. "Major…" she started then paused.

He turned his jolly round face toward her. "Ja?"

It took a moment for her to sum up the courage to ask him. "Major, if it vould not be any trouble, might you stop for ein tiny vile to let your spy gain his health back up?"

It felt like the air was freezing, accompanied by a small noise she placed coming from Doc. The chill had to come from the Captain. She ignored both and kept her attention on the Major, despite the feeling of the hair on the back of her neck rising.

At first, she admitted to being fearful that he would say no to her request. She realized it was a stupid fear when he thought about it for a few fast moments, weighing the advantages to letting the wolf rest as opposed to continuing his questioning from here. He turned to her with that blissful expression on his face and gave a nod.

"Of course, of course. Und I know just ze person to take care of him."

Once more, she struck an attention stance. "Sir, I vill go fetch ze medics right avay." She turned about and was readying to march herself out the door when she was stopped by the Major tsking after her.

"Leaving so soon und not taking your charge vith you?"

She paused and turned, stunned by the sudden change in events. "I am not a qualified medic! I cannot take him! I may do somezing wrong und make him unfit to interrogate furzer!"

"Yeah … Let a qualified medic in a place where everyone is undead and eternal and never stays injured for very long take care of the torture victim… Right-o, I'll wait for him right here…"

The Major seemed to ignore the comment from the wolf, putting the metal cane back into its slot on the canvas Doc held. "I put more trust in you zan I vould in any ozer member of my medic staff. As our freund has stated, all of our medics are probably useless for his needs. You, on ze ozer hand…"

Rip Van stopped him there with a fast, "I'll take him, zen." She shuddered at the sensation of the collective glares from Doc and the Captain, though she felt she hid her reaction to the stares fairly well considering.

The Major, however, seemed to find it very intriguing that she refused to let anything about her past be revealed and humored her that, at the least. "Alright. It ist done." He turned with a clack to Doc and Captain. "Kommit! Ve are going out for ein little vile."

Still with that sing-song tone in his voice, he waited patiently for Doc to finish fastening the canvas before turning to Rip Van. "Take good care of him, Frau Rip Van."

With that, he was gone through the door with Doc and Captain behind him. She was grateful when they left. The room felt a little bit warmer without them. As soon as she heard the door click shut, she was a flurry of hair, turning to look at the red-haired wolf. There was a substantial smear of blood on the wall behind him leading in a graceful arch down to where he lay slumped against the corner between the wall and the floor. His eyes looked kind of glazed and his breathing wasn't exactly at its best, either.

She leaned the musket against the wall and stayed between him and it, unbuttoning her suit jacket and laying it over him. He had to be somewhat decent and she could always wash the coat or have another one fitted… The touch of the fabric seemed to rouse him from whatever trance he happened to be in and he curled up further under it, no doubt for warmth.

White-blue eyes peered drowsily at her over the collar of the coat and a tired smirk crossed his lips. This was replaced with a wince soon enough through a deep gouge in one cheek, but he still seemed able to speak coherently enough.

"You're a guardian angel. You know that?"

She allowed herself a little smile at that. "Not really…"

"No. Really…" Here, he paused and his face contorted almost comically into an expression of thought. "Out of curiosity, what's my angel's name?"

She paused at this but retained her smirk. "… Rip Van Winkle." she answered. "I'm going to go get some help in moving you…"

She had picked up her musket again and was headed for the door when what he said made her pause. "… Got any shorts?"

She turned about, her brow furrowed in confusion. "Pardon?"

His eyelids were drooping and yet he was fighting it, his gaze slowly veiling to the world. "Oh… No reason…"

He was completely unconscious before she reached the door.