Hey there! Welcome to my first Hellsing fanfic!
Before you start reading, you must know that I am French, so if I happened to butcher Shakespeare's beautiful language somewhere, please let me know, I'll correct. Also, that's probably the reason why you'll find random bits of French here and there.
Enjoy! :)
Monday the 23th of July:
Father Andrea Shaymoore was getting pissed. Like in, really pissed. Probably the fault of the leaders of the very ancient, venerable, righteous, and so on Section XIII of the Vatican. Seriously, who had thought it was a good idea to send a former inhabitant of a tiny little country village chasing a vampire in the labyrinth that was Paris? He couldn't even take the metro without fucking it up!
The half Italian priest introduced his little ticket in the machine for the fifth time in a row, before waiting a few seconds and trying to push past the plastic door that blocked his way... only to fail miserably. It wouldn't budge. What a disgrace, an elite vampire hunter stopped by something so insignificant. Behind him, discontent people were beginning to pile up, adding extra stress to the situation.
Suddenly, he was pushed aside with an amount of strength that was quite surprising, certainly coming from a young brunette a head shorter than him. After flashing him an exasperated glance from behind her nearly opaque sunglasses, she snatched Andrea's last remaining ticket out of his hand and introduced it into the machine, before pushing the priest through the now opened door. By an incredible magic feat, this time it worked!
"Alors, vous voyez, ce n'est pas si dûr quand-même!"
The clear voice made him jump and turn around. The young woman had now joined him. Andrea frowned. There was really something amiss with her. Outside, it was full summer. The sun shined brightly and the temperature was really high, which, in combination with the usual pollution, created a rather suffocating atmosphere. But, despite the climatic conditions, the woman was wearing a wide-brimmed black hat, a woolen trench coat and even black leather gloves! If one began adding up the elements, there were nearly no doubts: this was a vampire. Maybe even the one he was supposed to find, because she seemed to fit the description. All remaining doubts vanished when she let him see a grin full of pointy teeth.
"Quoi, vous avez perdu votre langue?"
He tried to come up with a witty answer, but his knowledge of the 'langue de Molière' was too limited, so he settled for a heavily accented "Euh, oui, euh, merci pour votre aide...".
He cursed himself for seeming like an idiot, but she just grinned (again). Before answering in English. And what she said was quite... interesting, really.
"Ah, I see, you don't seem to speak French, do you? Well, anyway, I'm going to accompany you for a little while. We need to speak. And by the way, I'm the one you were ordered to find."
"Alors, vous voyez, ce n'est pas si dûr quand-même!" - "So, it wasn't that hard, was it?"
"Quoi, vous avez perdu votre langue?" - "What, did you lose your tongue?"