Disclaimer: I don't own Hellsing. This applies to all chapters to follow.

A strange smile came over Integra's face as the cigar drooped between her fingers sending spiraling whisps of tobocca smoke up to mingle with the wine and blood dripping down to the floor from her servant's mangled hand. Alucard's face was plastered with a grin as her steely blues met his firey reds.

She held the gaze for a moment before, still with that strange smile lingering on her lips, she rose from her seat that also served as her prison bed. The fine cigar was bit between her teeth as she stood and faced away from her vampiric slave.

"Master. One drop. And you shall be free of this prison of stone and life." He stepped towards her feeling the licks of a taunting power that he could have over his master. He would be the master; she would be his!

Integra's strange smile reverted to a smirk as she folded her one arm against her chest to support the elbow of the other now holding her dwindling addiction. "Alucard... To taint my blood would disgrace my family's honor."

"Honor? There is no honor left for the Hellsing name. They've stripped you of everything." The red clad monster's wild smirk faded to a thin smile as he let the shards of broken glass grasped in his bleeding, gloved hand clink against the floor.

With a flare of sudden rage, Sir Integra spun on her heels to face the blunt thing she called pet. A fire danced in her eyes as she raved. "As long as I live, I shall fight to keep my family's honor! The Hellsing dynasty has fought to protect the name of God, her majesty, and this country! I will not have naive fools over taking my operations! I will never surrender! I will fight to my final dying breathe!"

Alucard kept his facial expression; though, his eyes hidden behind lenses of amber sadden as his flesh rejected the shards embedded in it and the fallen blood returned to unmarred skin. Only the tell-tale rips in his gloves spoke of a mutilation that had afflicted his dead flesh. "Then how do you intend to escape, my master. Do you wish me to mutilate the weaklings they set as guards and unlock the door for you?"

With a sudden calm, Integra said, "As tempting as your offer may be, I must choose a more stealthy route." Integra took a long draw on the final remains of her cigar before shoving the stub and ash into the fine meat nicely laid before her. Staring at the elegant display of cutlery and tossed salad she mumbled, "They treat me as an unfit deviant and treat me to fine delicacies suited to the Queen's taste... Alucard, I have a new mission for you."

"Yes, my master?" Alucard's earlier disappointments were shoved to the back recesses of his mind as he curiously quipped about what his master's scheme could possibly be. It always amazed him how she could stand strong at the most dire of moments and discover a rat hole to slither through to safety. Of course, these holes were usually of his creation and formed in a less than subtle manner.

"The supposed fall of Hellsing has certainly tantalized the ears of many vampires whom seek sanctuary. I highly doubt they will make their presences low key; however, I do believe they need a little coaxing into a riot... and before the Vatican shows. Do you understand Alucard?" Integra eyed her slave with hands folded behind her back standing like a woman conducting miniscal business.

"Of course. And by which means should I use to coax these hell unworthy creatures?"

"That does not matter to me. Have your fun. I only wish for the monsters to cause such an uproar that the knighted fools will realize this death business beyond their control and come crying to me."

Alucard's face twisted into a pleased smirk. "Ah, ingenious as ever, my master. I will do so with haste." As he spoke, Alucard faded through the cell walls and into the night.

After her monster had vanished, Integra sat on the finely carved oak chair placed before the dainty table with her meal assured things would go as she desired. She gave the soup a taste as she happily imagined the Round Table council begging and pleaing for her forgiveness. Her enjoyable thoughts, though, were ruined by the foul tasting liquid. "Bleh. The old croan must be losing her taste buds."