Well, here it is...a Hellsing story. I can sense the excitement...erhem...Well, the story gets better as it goes along, as this story is more than likely going to be a one-shot. Oh, and if you read my Kenshin story; there are a few similarities between the two, but that's because I wrote them in the same week. That's it...enjoy the story! Please review; flames are welcome, preferably flames of the helpful variety; such as those used to light birthday candles (and not those ones that don't blow out; whoever invented those should be shot :P)
Out of Control
I was thirsty, so thirsty...my senses were ablaze. The scent of fresh blood lingered in the air around me, flirting with my nose and increasing my desire to drink. Many possible victims wandered by, unaware of my watchful gaze. I could see the red fluid coursing through their veins, an oil well of vitality, as of yet untapped. The neck of each passerby beckoned to be bitten, and I could hardly restrain myself. So many different trains of thought raced through my head. DRINK! my body screamed, while my mind told me to stay put. You cannot give away your location, my mind persisted; YOU NEED TO DRINK OR YOU WILL BE TOO WEAK TO PROTECT YOURSELF!!! my body argued. But I couldn't drink. In my weakened state, I had no chance against him. The priest was stalking me; the predator had become the prey. He knew that I would have to drink sometime, and somehow, every night he had been able to locate me. Those damned blades of his prevented me from feeding. If I left my hiding place, he would surely see and swiftly dispose of me; if I stayed, I would soon be too weak to move. A decision had to be made quickly, as I could feel my strength waning. I decided to take a chance and feast on the next human who walked by. That was a decision to be regretted.
A man approached my hiding place. I viewed him from above, while, perched in an old oak tree, I waited to pounce. His face was hidden by a wide-brimmed bowler and a scarf, keeping him warm in the frigid night. He was a brute of a man, with a great shoulder-span. His massive girth hid under an equally massive black trench coat that blended into the darkness. Despite his cheap camouflage, he was easy for my keen eyes to pick out. A perfect walking fountain of lifeblood, I could not stop myself from attacking this human. The pull of my fangs towards his jugular was uncontrollable. As was my mind, which faded to black. Mouth slowly opened. Fangs withdrew from their sheaths . Bright red human neck. Calling. Drink. Muscles coiled. Released. Fell upon the prey. Falcon dive from the tree. So fast. Target appeared closer and closer. Human looked up. Silver flash from under the coat. Raised silver high in air. Spotted me. Spread wings as a parachute. Needed to stop. Parachute failed. Silver came closer and closer. Silver blade. Too late.
The blade skewered me like a piece of juicy vampire steak. It took me a moment, until the blood lust had worn off, but I finally realized what had happened. My mind slowed down and returned to a normal tempo. I peered down from the all too familiar blade that suspended me in a frozen free fall. A smirking priest stared back. Why had I not seen this? My thirst had caused poor judgment. I should have suspected any man of that size to be the priest, as his gargantuan stature was unusual. Now I was helpless to him. The blade embedded deep in my chest sent jolts of pain throughout my body. Its sacred power tainted my vampire blood, which was now rolling down it and staining the white gloves of my captor. "So you finally decided to show up, you unholy beast," he said in a Scottish drawl, adding a haughty laugh. "Your hunger got the best of ya, eh? Nothing but a pathetic animal, you are." "I may be like an animal," I stated, as I delicately wrapped my fingers around his blade, "But I'm a finely honed killing machine of an animal!" I bared my fangs angrily at his hideous face, and my hot breath steamed in the air. With all my might, I pushed myself off of the blade and sprung to the ground. Clutching the wound in my chest with my right hand, my left hand slid under my bloodied coat in a frantic scavenger hunt. It found the gun it sought, and grasped it firmly. When I was sure the juncture was complete, I withdrew the gun from its safe haven and forced it to face the priest's ugly countenance. Fingers trembling from fatigue, I aimed in between his two smiling eyes and readied my trigger finger. His eyes met mine, and at once, we knew that words were of no use.
The priest raised one blade to be used in defense, and extended his free hand in front of his body. The gloved hand lay flat, and the fingers first curled up on themselves, then lay flat as well. They repeated this taunting dance twice, and my trigger finger decided to join in their mocking tango. On the off beat it jumped, and the silver bullet flew from the gun's barrel. Effortlessly, and in one fluid motion, the priest slashed with his weapon, dicing the projectile to bits. Mercury shards rained from the sky and littered the ground, as the priest waited for my next move. Time for a new strategy, I decided. I placed a regular silver bullet in the gun, and finished reloading by sliding the barrel into place with my fangs.
I began to focus. Anger, fear, sorrow, desire, thirst; they all began to merge inside my hollow chest. The darkness took control of me, and once again, I struggled to keep my mind in my possession. Black blood surged through my veins, out of my fingertips, and into the gun. My body dissipated, forming a dark fog that lingered in the air and was drawn into the gun's abyss. The gun levitated above the ground, resting where my hand had once been. The priest stared at it, somewhat frightened yet slightly entertained, as if it the whole event were a magic trick. But I did not notice his amusement, as I was now one with my weapon. Fire, I thought. A soft click gave way to a torrent of sable energy, whose destination was the priest's heart. My energy bored into this feeble human blood machine, easily gaining control. The priest was possessed by my powers; his fragile human psyche bent by my means. I was inside of him; his body was mine, and I saw through his eyes. I could feel his panicked mind next to my calm one, as I contemplated what to do next. When I decided upon a particularly cruel method for his disposal, I manipulated the priest's legs and made them move. I used his hand to pick up my gun, and placed it under his filthy human jacket for the moment. Then we briskly walked through the night, through a surrounding forest, and found the nearby church that I had been searching for.
A monstrous Gothic cathedral appeared in a wide clearing just ahead of our walking path. The forest clearly feared this house of God, and trees did not grow around its domain. Light poured from its tall arched windows, scattering eerie silhouettes on the grass. Politely, we knocked on its hole-ridden wooden door before entering. However, being a church, this building was always open. With a light push, the door creaked and slowly swung open.
Thousands of candles illuminated this unholy sanctuary. They were clearly placed by human hands, as they stood in single-file lines along both sides of the building as well as the middle of the central isle. This was a truly bizarre sight, as the church was devoid of life and ripe with the stench of decay. Someone had to have kindled the many tiny flames, which were now silently dancing on their waxen stages. Cautiously, we stepped over the threshold and into this surreal world. On the church's altar, directly in our line of sight upon entrance, lay a blackened mound. While approaching the altar, the scent of stale blood filled the air. The blackened mound was revealed to be a pile of ashes. I commanded our gloved hand to pick up a small sample of these, which we raised to our nose and inhaled. I immediately recognized the smell; the ashes were human.
Repulsed by the stench, the priest briefly regained control of his body and tossed the ashes away. Enraptured for a moment by the lazy drifting of the ashes, I did not realize that the priest had taken his body back. Resuming my dominance, I scolded my bodily servant. "Tsk tsk tsk," I mentally spoke, and I could feel his very being cringe as I began to extend our hand toward a solitary candle placed at the altar's head. Its flame performed a dance of death for my entertainment, and our hand decided to pat it on the back to congratulate it on its beautiful performance. As the flames ravenously devoured the glove, I could taste the priest's fear. The heat on our hand became unbearable to him, and he struggled to pull the glove off. I decided to let him, as he would need that hand to perform his final task. After tossing the flaming glove to the church's auburn carpet and stomping out the fire, I took back my slave. We pushed the ashes off of the altar, leaving black smudges on our already dirtied hand and glove. "Now it is time for you to die," I proclaimed with a mental cackle.
I lifted our body up onto the altar, and swung our legs over its edge. We reclined slowly until we lay flat on this deathbed. I moved our ungloved left hand under the coat and found the cursed blade. I felt it's hilt, and grasped it firmly. The priest sensed what I was planning to do and struggled, but to no avail. I was determined now to end his life; the life of my stalker, my predator. Withdrawing the blade with great force, I held it high above our chest. Once again, I focused my black energy. I flew through the priest's fingers into his blade, leaving one servant for another. I could feel his desolation when I left, as he became paralyzed with fear. His hand fell limply to his side; all his strength had vanished. My blade slave rotated in midair, and faced its point downward. I aimed for the priest's heart, easily targeted by the sound of the blood, pumping faster and faster. With one swift dive into the crimson fountain, the deafening noise ceased. The silence was broken by his last breath, which gave me an indescribable satisfaction. My being left the blade, and took form in my sturdy vampire body. Now, the scent of the priest's blood reigned over all others. Drawn towards it, my fangs refused to remain still. I loomed over his body, but staring at his contorted expression, I could not bring myself to bite him. I was too disgusted by this vile human, and would not taint my teeth with his flesh. The blade piercing his heart, however, was an acceptable way to obtain his blood. I plucked it from his lifeless body, and slowly rotated it, observing its red-frosted blade. A solitary drop of blood fell from its tip and extinguished the candle on the altar. Finally, I was able to drink. Never a sweeter blood was sampled than that of my fallen rival, which I drank to my nonexistent heart's content.
Out of Control
I was thirsty, so thirsty...my senses were ablaze. The scent of fresh blood lingered in the air around me, flirting with my nose and increasing my desire to drink. Many possible victims wandered by, unaware of my watchful gaze. I could see the red fluid coursing through their veins, an oil well of vitality, as of yet untapped. The neck of each passerby beckoned to be bitten, and I could hardly restrain myself. So many different trains of thought raced through my head. DRINK! my body screamed, while my mind told me to stay put. You cannot give away your location, my mind persisted; YOU NEED TO DRINK OR YOU WILL BE TOO WEAK TO PROTECT YOURSELF!!! my body argued. But I couldn't drink. In my weakened state, I had no chance against him. The priest was stalking me; the predator had become the prey. He knew that I would have to drink sometime, and somehow, every night he had been able to locate me. Those damned blades of his prevented me from feeding. If I left my hiding place, he would surely see and swiftly dispose of me; if I stayed, I would soon be too weak to move. A decision had to be made quickly, as I could feel my strength waning. I decided to take a chance and feast on the next human who walked by. That was a decision to be regretted.
A man approached my hiding place. I viewed him from above, while, perched in an old oak tree, I waited to pounce. His face was hidden by a wide-brimmed bowler and a scarf, keeping him warm in the frigid night. He was a brute of a man, with a great shoulder-span. His massive girth hid under an equally massive black trench coat that blended into the darkness. Despite his cheap camouflage, he was easy for my keen eyes to pick out. A perfect walking fountain of lifeblood, I could not stop myself from attacking this human. The pull of my fangs towards his jugular was uncontrollable. As was my mind, which faded to black. Mouth slowly opened. Fangs withdrew from their sheaths . Bright red human neck. Calling. Drink. Muscles coiled. Released. Fell upon the prey. Falcon dive from the tree. So fast. Target appeared closer and closer. Human looked up. Silver flash from under the coat. Raised silver high in air. Spotted me. Spread wings as a parachute. Needed to stop. Parachute failed. Silver came closer and closer. Silver blade. Too late.
The blade skewered me like a piece of juicy vampire steak. It took me a moment, until the blood lust had worn off, but I finally realized what had happened. My mind slowed down and returned to a normal tempo. I peered down from the all too familiar blade that suspended me in a frozen free fall. A smirking priest stared back. Why had I not seen this? My thirst had caused poor judgment. I should have suspected any man of that size to be the priest, as his gargantuan stature was unusual. Now I was helpless to him. The blade embedded deep in my chest sent jolts of pain throughout my body. Its sacred power tainted my vampire blood, which was now rolling down it and staining the white gloves of my captor. "So you finally decided to show up, you unholy beast," he said in a Scottish drawl, adding a haughty laugh. "Your hunger got the best of ya, eh? Nothing but a pathetic animal, you are." "I may be like an animal," I stated, as I delicately wrapped my fingers around his blade, "But I'm a finely honed killing machine of an animal!" I bared my fangs angrily at his hideous face, and my hot breath steamed in the air. With all my might, I pushed myself off of the blade and sprung to the ground. Clutching the wound in my chest with my right hand, my left hand slid under my bloodied coat in a frantic scavenger hunt. It found the gun it sought, and grasped it firmly. When I was sure the juncture was complete, I withdrew the gun from its safe haven and forced it to face the priest's ugly countenance. Fingers trembling from fatigue, I aimed in between his two smiling eyes and readied my trigger finger. His eyes met mine, and at once, we knew that words were of no use.
The priest raised one blade to be used in defense, and extended his free hand in front of his body. The gloved hand lay flat, and the fingers first curled up on themselves, then lay flat as well. They repeated this taunting dance twice, and my trigger finger decided to join in their mocking tango. On the off beat it jumped, and the silver bullet flew from the gun's barrel. Effortlessly, and in one fluid motion, the priest slashed with his weapon, dicing the projectile to bits. Mercury shards rained from the sky and littered the ground, as the priest waited for my next move. Time for a new strategy, I decided. I placed a regular silver bullet in the gun, and finished reloading by sliding the barrel into place with my fangs.
I began to focus. Anger, fear, sorrow, desire, thirst; they all began to merge inside my hollow chest. The darkness took control of me, and once again, I struggled to keep my mind in my possession. Black blood surged through my veins, out of my fingertips, and into the gun. My body dissipated, forming a dark fog that lingered in the air and was drawn into the gun's abyss. The gun levitated above the ground, resting where my hand had once been. The priest stared at it, somewhat frightened yet slightly entertained, as if it the whole event were a magic trick. But I did not notice his amusement, as I was now one with my weapon. Fire, I thought. A soft click gave way to a torrent of sable energy, whose destination was the priest's heart. My energy bored into this feeble human blood machine, easily gaining control. The priest was possessed by my powers; his fragile human psyche bent by my means. I was inside of him; his body was mine, and I saw through his eyes. I could feel his panicked mind next to my calm one, as I contemplated what to do next. When I decided upon a particularly cruel method for his disposal, I manipulated the priest's legs and made them move. I used his hand to pick up my gun, and placed it under his filthy human jacket for the moment. Then we briskly walked through the night, through a surrounding forest, and found the nearby church that I had been searching for.
A monstrous Gothic cathedral appeared in a wide clearing just ahead of our walking path. The forest clearly feared this house of God, and trees did not grow around its domain. Light poured from its tall arched windows, scattering eerie silhouettes on the grass. Politely, we knocked on its hole-ridden wooden door before entering. However, being a church, this building was always open. With a light push, the door creaked and slowly swung open.
Thousands of candles illuminated this unholy sanctuary. They were clearly placed by human hands, as they stood in single-file lines along both sides of the building as well as the middle of the central isle. This was a truly bizarre sight, as the church was devoid of life and ripe with the stench of decay. Someone had to have kindled the many tiny flames, which were now silently dancing on their waxen stages. Cautiously, we stepped over the threshold and into this surreal world. On the church's altar, directly in our line of sight upon entrance, lay a blackened mound. While approaching the altar, the scent of stale blood filled the air. The blackened mound was revealed to be a pile of ashes. I commanded our gloved hand to pick up a small sample of these, which we raised to our nose and inhaled. I immediately recognized the smell; the ashes were human.
Repulsed by the stench, the priest briefly regained control of his body and tossed the ashes away. Enraptured for a moment by the lazy drifting of the ashes, I did not realize that the priest had taken his body back. Resuming my dominance, I scolded my bodily servant. "Tsk tsk tsk," I mentally spoke, and I could feel his very being cringe as I began to extend our hand toward a solitary candle placed at the altar's head. Its flame performed a dance of death for my entertainment, and our hand decided to pat it on the back to congratulate it on its beautiful performance. As the flames ravenously devoured the glove, I could taste the priest's fear. The heat on our hand became unbearable to him, and he struggled to pull the glove off. I decided to let him, as he would need that hand to perform his final task. After tossing the flaming glove to the church's auburn carpet and stomping out the fire, I took back my slave. We pushed the ashes off of the altar, leaving black smudges on our already dirtied hand and glove. "Now it is time for you to die," I proclaimed with a mental cackle.
I lifted our body up onto the altar, and swung our legs over its edge. We reclined slowly until we lay flat on this deathbed. I moved our ungloved left hand under the coat and found the cursed blade. I felt it's hilt, and grasped it firmly. The priest sensed what I was planning to do and struggled, but to no avail. I was determined now to end his life; the life of my stalker, my predator. Withdrawing the blade with great force, I held it high above our chest. Once again, I focused my black energy. I flew through the priest's fingers into his blade, leaving one servant for another. I could feel his desolation when I left, as he became paralyzed with fear. His hand fell limply to his side; all his strength had vanished. My blade slave rotated in midair, and faced its point downward. I aimed for the priest's heart, easily targeted by the sound of the blood, pumping faster and faster. With one swift dive into the crimson fountain, the deafening noise ceased. The silence was broken by his last breath, which gave me an indescribable satisfaction. My being left the blade, and took form in my sturdy vampire body. Now, the scent of the priest's blood reigned over all others. Drawn towards it, my fangs refused to remain still. I loomed over his body, but staring at his contorted expression, I could not bring myself to bite him. I was too disgusted by this vile human, and would not taint my teeth with his flesh. The blade piercing his heart, however, was an acceptable way to obtain his blood. I plucked it from his lifeless body, and slowly rotated it, observing its red-frosted blade. A solitary drop of blood fell from its tip and extinguished the candle on the altar. Finally, I was able to drink. Never a sweeter blood was sampled than that of my fallen rival, which I drank to my nonexistent heart's content.