Disclaimer: I don't own Hellsing.
Only Millennium can even possibly hope to own them.
Summary: The Hellsing estate is left in Pip's hands. What does he do? Throw a par-tay!
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Walter lifted up from his bow as the black Rolls Royce left the extensive driveway of the Hellsing estate. He then turned to the Frenchman, who was fidgeting with his long hair that was tied in a braid. "I hope you know what you're doing," the aging butler said. He closed the tall, polished double doors. With the outside background noise gone, the grand entrance hall was dark and silent.
The man stopped playing with the end of his hair and, in effect, simply wrapped the braid around his neck like a scarf. "Évidemment," the mercenary said, lighting a cigarette. "You have nothing to worry about. Everything will taken care of." Then unclipping a small radio from his belt, he spoke, "Alright, everyone, let the action commence."
Guards appeared from the decorated doors on the side of the hall, staring uneasily around until their eyes rested on their Capitan. Maids peeked their heads over the banister on the second floor, whispering to each other. Slowly but surely, the employees of the Hellsing organization made their way to the manor. But some, of course for security measures, stayed behind. When they gathered before him, the French mercenary grinned. He snuffed out his light by stepping on it on the tiled marble floor.
"Friends, we have worked hard," he began. "Therefore…"
He paused for a moment. Whether for dramatic effect (as the French were known for) or out of inanity (which they were also known for), Pip Bernadette quickly concluded, "…therefore, we party hard."
Instantly, the hall burst into cheers and applause. The guards tossed up their helmets and discarded their armor, showing off tailored bespoke suits. Likewise, the maids revealed the latest fashions of dresses when they stripped their aprons. Chefs and servers tended to the kitchen and catering, their jobs shifting with the other employees every now and then.
Pip looked on as the sun set and the festivities started. He gently exhaled some smoke. "I don't think it would be this nice."
Walter straightened his monocle. "These people are working in the presence of the undead. They are paid for their efforts, life, and silence. Of course they want compensation," he said. He cleared his throat. "Actually, I believe that this was a good idea. These sort of activities allow the employees in interact and enjoy themselves in a more causal setting."
"Or black tie setting," Pip noted as he watched a couple walk by in Versace.
"Regardless, this was your idea, and so you must enjoy yourself as host," Water bowed slightly. "I, on the other hand, am old and see the library open entertainment to me. I take my leave."
Pip breathed in another portion of the toxins and tobacco known as cigarettes before grabbing a glass of champagne from a server. As he walked though the halls of the manor, he was greeted by the employees.
"Bernadette, wonderful idea!" a women exclaimed as she danced.
"We should do this more often!" said a younger man as he downed a shot.
"Hey, Capitan, have a drink!"
"Already have one," he laughed, as he was absorbed into the party, swishing the champagne around.
Not even an hour into the party and the entire estate smelt like expensive booze and cigarettes.
A few hours later, Pip laughed stumbling down the stairs, one arm wrapped around the belle of the ball.
"Mmm…," she said, touching his chest. "Thanks for everything…Capitan."
Then she left, looking back at him once, merging back into the crowd.
Pip smiled after her, leaning against the wall.
One of his soldiers came up to him. "Another one, Capitan?" he asked, staring after the woman.
Pip had a wry smile on his face. "She just had too much to drink; you can probably get her tonight, too."
"Eh, don't know 'bout that," the soldier replied. "I don't really go for Brits."
Pip gave him an odd look, shrugged, and then walked off. It was only seven…time for another drink.
The Capitan made his way towards the make-shift bar they had set up in one of the Hellsing ball rooms. The room had gold borders and high windows. Multiple chandeliers hung from the ceiling. They swung ever so slightly with the loud music and dancing occurring underneath their shining lights.
"What would you like, Capitan?" the tender said.
"Eh, anything…," he said, tossing his braid around his neck again. "Something with caffeine."
"Of course."
Pip looked around at the party. As far as Hellsing goes, the entire force was probably at the estate now. The employees could come late, but there were some rules to follow. For one thing, all of them, even off duty at a party like this, were required to carry some sort of blessed weapon. They could arrive late or come and go from the party, but no extra friends were allowed. Finally, someone always had to be on duty. The Hellsing soldiers weren't stupid; an attack could occur at any time. And with so many personal on campus, security needed to be top.
Pip tapped his radio at his belt, smiling. He needn't worry—the Wild Geese had everything covered.
The bartender handed him an amber colored solution, "Here you go, Sir."
"Merci," Pip nodded, sipping the drink.
As much as he wanted to enjoy the party, he was host, and therefore needed to make sure none of the goers were too rowdy, or if there was vomit on the floor, or if people were lighting the garden on fire… In short, if anything happened, he wouldn't just be unemployed.
Pip grinned and walked down some crowded and needlessly long corridors to the terrace outside. Some couples had wandered out here and were profusely engaged with each other. No gardens set on fire yet.
The sun had finally set, and the pink sky was giving way to the earliest stars of twilight. The roses, lilacs, and tulips petals were closing; their scent only lingering with the last of the evening sky. The multiple decorated fountains were turned off for the night.
Pip took another sip of his drink. Later on in the night, that AA gun would be used for fireworks.
"Seriously, man, do you have to just stand there?"
Pip turned to the voice; it was one of the soldiers. Stratling him was a young woman. He looked annoyed.
"It's kinda killing the mood for us," he said. The woman blushed.
The Capitan raised an eyebrow. "Oh, really now?" He walked over to the couple, and bent over so that he looked the soldier in the eye.
He was obviously out of it; otherwise, Pip knew the man to be very courteous. Still, insubordination—even off duty—was not tolerated.
Pip grabbed the back of the officer's collar, and with one fluid motion, threw him off the balcony of the patio into the shallow fountain below. Turning to the woman, he said, "You better get him before he drowns. Silly Englishman. "
Pip left, shaking his head and started walking towards the upper floors. He noticed that whereas the youth dominated the lower levels, the elder employees mingled on the higher. They chatted in a sophisticated matter, exchanging information about their children (or even grandchildren). They were gathered in one of the nicer and spacious conference rooms. The walls were cherry and the lighting soft, touched off a little by the fire place. An exotic and ornate carpet lined the floor. One of them was even playing the grand piano in the corner of the room. Pip was handed a cigar.
"How do you fare?" the man asked. Pip recognized the man as one of the soldiers from before the Wild Geese and new employees were hired. Since then, he was promoted. What was his name again?
"Good," Pip responded as he lighted the cigar. It had a soft blend of cinnamon and cumin in its aroma. The tip was flavored with cider.
"Nice to get a break around 'ere," he said, taking a puff of his cigar.
"Yeah," Pip agreed.
They applauded as the pianist finished his piece. Pip didn't know much about the classics, but he always appreciated any sort of good music. The Frenchman strolled around the upper hallways, where he found similar parlors with people talking… Occasionally, he stumbled upon… sessions… between lovers or drunkards. Pip really didn't care as long as they stayed clear of the Round Table Conference Room and the head office.
He did, however, find Walter in the Library. Because some of the books were hundred of years old and first editions, the Library's environment was controlled. For that reason, Pip regrettably had to discard the cigar. He supposed there were over a hundred thousand books in the collection, most of them of history and law. The highest shelves were adorned with leather-bound almanacs and encyclopedias.
One wall was dedicated to the sciences, another one to the arts. A glass case on display contained some old scrolls. One insignificant corner of the extensive library was dedicated to entertainment, or rather, literature. Pip remembered that he tried reading Dracula in that section. In that place, he found Walter seated in a comfortable-looking leather chair. Surprisingly, some other elder gentlemen and ladies were engrossed in rare books.
When Pip walked in, Walter looked up.
"What are you reading?"
"Titus Andronicus," Walter answered, looking at the cover of the book.
"Shakespeare?" Pip inquired.
"Yes; though this is one of his more…obscure plays," Water said.
Pip raised an eyebrow, and took a sip of his drink.
"Basically, that means it is one of his lesser plays."
"Ah," the Frenchman said, pausing. "Is that so?"
"Quite. The man has his hand cut off, his daughter is raped and both of her hands and tongue are cut off… Afterward, the man cuts up his adversary's sons and serves them for dinner to the sons' family," Walter explained, shaking his head. "It's just a bloody mess."
Pip stared blankly at him and could only repeat, "Is that so…"
Walter closed the book. "I take it that the rest of the manor is intact?"
"Yes," Pip said. "Nothin' but a good time. I'm just wary of the clean up we'll have to do. When is the Sir returning?"
"Not until the fifth," Walter said. "That means we have all of tomorrow and the morning of the next to make sure everything is in order."
Pip looked at his empty glass. Time for another drink. "Would you like something to drink? I'll send some up," he said. "Even you oldies need some booze."
"Very well," Walter said, and then returned to his book.
Pip took one last look at the library before returning towards the main party.
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Seras awoke mumbling. Seeing the world pitch black when she opened her eyes made her panic for a second, but then remembering herself, she realized it was only her coffin.
She sighed, and touched the cold lid of her final resting place.
Her brown home dirt she was laying in begged her to stay asleep (or dead) for at least a few more hours, but Seras got up anyways. Why did she wake up so early? Oh yes, the above levels were shaking for some reason.
Ghouls? Seras thought absent mindedly. She sat still, half-dead, listening. No, just a party.
She yawned, staring around at her Victorian gothic styled room, and then realized what she just thought—
"Party!?"
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Alright, that's the first chapter. The second will be up if you really want it. Please review!