Disclaimer: I don't own anyone...in this chapter at least.
It was true. You really could be friends with anyone, depending on the circumstances. The circumstance that particular night was desperation for similar company, for him as much as her.
Sir Integra had never imagined sipping champagne, lounging casually in patio chairs out on a balcony with Paladin Alexander Anderson, nonetheless having decent conversation with him. But she was.
He seemed to have been dragged to this formal convention as well, replacing Father Renaldo as Archbishop Maxwell's right hand man. It was a gathering of the world's leaders for peace or something equally unattainable; she hadn't read into it too thoroughly, knowing full well that she was going whether she wanted to or not. These were the more painful parts of being the leader of Hellsing, she thought as she rubbed her heels together in a vain attempt to ease her feet's soreness. Black strap high heels were not practical in the least. Then again, neither was a cobalt blue ball gown, but at least it was loose enough in the skirt so she could go slightly faster than a snail's crawl. Her hair was pulled back in a bun, and around her neck was a silver cross on a silver chain. Anderson had donned the typical black suit, never been worn from the way he fidgeted in its crispness. He wore no tie and no gloves, his shirt untucked in a vain attempt at casualty. They were both appropriately dressed for the icebreaker event, a formal dance. Her hatred of such events was a passion born of the fiery depths of hell. Anderson seemed to despise them just as much, if just because of the boredom-induced coma he suffered at such idleness.
It had started simply enough; everyone else was having a terrific time. It was unbelievable how joyful they all were, flitting around and gossiping. All except for Anderson and herself. He had walked over to her and noticed her uneasiness, then offered an escape. She took it, no matter the company.
Conversation was slow in coming, but eventually picked up. Sensitive subjects were avoided; God, country, the tense past between their organizations and themselves personally. Once they cautiously broached the subject of their mutual enemy, it seemed they had found common ground. They could both agree that vampires were demons who needed to be sent back to where they came from and traded hunters' advice. Integra's best agents were two fanged pink elephants in the night air, but both graciously avoided bringing them up.
Despite all odds, "Babylon's whore" and "the insane religious fanatic assassin" put aside their differences and shared their hatred of formal affairs and vampires, sipping at too sweet liquor.
Out of nowhere, a pang of anxiety struck Integra and she sat up, glancing around. There was nothing to see but a well-manicured forest below and city lights to the left and right. It didn't matter, though; her heart was racing, pumping adrenaline through her. Something was terribly wrong. Anderson watched her, frowning.
"You feel it, too?" He asked her. She nodded.
"Perhaps it's time for us to rejoin our peers," she suggested. They rose, retreating from the open air of the balcony for the tight confines of the ballroom.
She didn't like this feeling of claustrophobia, chest tight and skin crawling. Whatever was setting her off wasn't outside at all, but rather in here, among them. Father Anderson excused himself, skirting the room and heading for the staircase out of there. Integra remained where she stood, a headache starting to come on.
Flashes appeared before her eyes, two pictures so similar it was hard to distinguish the differences. She squinted, focusing. The staff...they didn't seem quite right. They were all off to the sides, near exits and windows. Blocking them…locking them. She stared at them unblinkingly, willing away the other picture.
The staff…they all had red eyes. She blinked, and they went back to normal. It was an illusion, a very strong one, and only her and Anderson had the training to see past it. She slowly rubbed her ankles together, easing off her high heels as she counted. At least a dozen, and she was positive there would be more.
Right before her eyes, the staff sent a signal through them. There was a single nod of understanding…then pointed grins. All at once, they sprang onto the unsuspecting guests.
Of course, Integra grumbled mentally as she hiked her dress up, making a break for the doors Anderson had disappeared through. Of course the one time she was unarmed there was a massive vampire attack. Bulges in dresses be damned, she should have at least had a stake on hand! Most of the others had the same idea, running for the doors. A sick twinge of guilt hit Integra as the screams started and the blood flowed over granite steps. Sadly she was too ill-prepared to save a single one of them and had to arm herself before trying.
The bottlenecking almost complete, two vampires began to shut the last exit out of the massacre. Integra hurled herself up the final steps, between the vampires, her arm reaching into the small gap just to hold it open a little longer…
Unexpectedly, a hand grasped hers from the other side and pulled her through the rest of the way roughly.
She stumbled into a brand-new suit and the smell of holy water and old parchment, and quickly pushed herself away. Father Anderson bolted the door shut with one of his bayonets behind them.
"I was wondering why you were dawdling, Protestant scum," he grumbled, scowling at the closed doors.
"Excuse my tardiness, Catholic bastard. I didn't quite translate your departure as a signal that we were about to be overrun."
"Well it's not like I could say anything out loud."
The doors rattled on their hinges and Father Anderson drew two more bayonets from his endless sheath. He stared in frustration at the closed doors, wincing at a particularly clear scream. Integra touched his shoulder briefly, sympathetically, before turning to run for the entrance to the grand estate. He followed.
"I couldn't help but notice your engagement ring," Anderson said, indicating the rough scratch on the flesh of his palm. She must have accidentally scratched him when he pulled her through, "Who's the man foolish enough to give you that rock?" She smirked.
"A count," she admitted.
"Really?"
"Yes. I'll tell you the whole story if we make it out of here alive," she offered.
Vampires had already been posted in the vestibule and they turned at the sound of approaching humans. They grinned and prepared to attack. Integra glanced to the left and saw the purse rack, her black clutch looking rather plain in comparison. She made a dive for it.
Between beheadings, Anderson stared in amazement at her.
"There can't be anything that valuable in there!" He insisted. A vampire who had held back before now lunged at Anderson. He didn't have the time to make a direct hit.
There was a crack and the vampire flew back, brains splattering the wall. Anderson looked over to see the smoking gun in Integra's hand and her arched eyebrow.
"Nothing valuable enough?" She asked and he shot her a glare. She tossed him the keys to her car, "For that, you have to drive."
He caught them smoothly, "Fine by me."
There was one brief moment of quiet as Integra slid into the passenger's seat, gun in her lap and seatbelt across her chest. She closed her eyes and the screams came back to her mind. There was nothing she could do, she assured herself as the engine roared to life. There was nothing either of them could do for the leaders of the world now. The car lurched out of parking and sped away from the crime. It felt like a two thousand pound bullet with Anderson at the wheel.
"Your place or mine?" He asked gruffly.
"Mine, of course. We are in London," she reminded him.
"Aye, but they'll be expecting you to go home."
"They'll get a nasty surprise when Alucard answers the door then, won't they?" The argument was an odd sort of stress reliever, something trivial to focus on. "Who had the best comeback" was certainly better than "how long do we have to live".
The car started to slow down to a normal pace and she opened her eyes. Anderson was glancing back in the rearview mirror.
"I don't see them anymore," he murmured.
No sooner were the words said that Anderson slammed on the gas. Integra stared in horror as the bridge they were about to cross started to cave in before them. God, she hoped he'd make the ju-
There was an ear piercing screech of metal and Integra suddenly felt the air rushing by her side. She didn't have the time to cry out as a vampire tore her seat belt off and ripped her out of her seat.
"INTEGRA!" Anderson screamed.
A sharp pain seemed to split her skull as she hit the ground, and then everything went black.
III
It took a lot to put a vampire's hunger off, Officer Seras Victoria had learned. At the most inappropriate moments imaginable her stomach would have sharp pangs and her fangs would slip out; casual cuts during training with other soldiers, grisly murder scenes where the body was still fresh, Integra's time of month if the human wasn't too careful about her scent… But staring around the room at all the famous presidents, prime ministers, royalty and democratic leaders ripped to shreds in the worst ways imaginable, Seras didn't have the slightest feeling of thirst. Bloody tears welled up in the young vampire's eyes, the crimes so unfathomable to her. These were people of peace, not war. Why would a group of vampires attack them?
She turned eagerly as she heard Walter walking towards her.
"Any sign of her?" She asked hopefully. Walter shook his head.
"All of the bodies have been identified, all deceased. Except for two missing persons; Miss Integra and Paladin Anderson," Seras's eyes widened. Walter put a comforting hand on Seras's shoulder, "Don't worry, Miss Victoria. Once His Majesty gets off his lazy arse and graces us with his presence, he'll find her."
"You rang?" Seras jumped as her master appeared next to her. He gave a large yawn, showing all of his sharp fangs.
"You sure took your time in getting here," Walter insisted.
"I slept in," Alucard scanned the crime scene, "What happened here?"
"A large scale assault on the world leaders by the undead. A very successful large scale assault on the world leaders by the undead," Walter noted as two medics wheeled a body bag by them.
"Where's Integra?"
"That's the problem. No one's seen her," Alucard straightened a little.
He vanished just as suddenly as he had appeared. Seras and Walter stood awkwardly for a minute before he reappeared, tossing a pair of high heels down at their feet.
"She took off," He noted, then gestured out of the room, "Her gun's missing, as are her keys and the car. We probably crossed paths coming here."
He didn't seem very distressed at her absence, Seras noticed. As if they were doing nothing but playing an innocent game of hide-and-seek, not praying that Sir Integra had survived a massacre.
"Anderson was here too," he added, "Wonder if he survived…"
Alucard turned and started walking up the steps. Seras huffed but followed, and Walter fell into step behind her. He led them out of the estate, out of the parking lot and down the road. He gestured to some skid marks.
"Naughty little master didn't stop completely at the sign. Maybe she got pulled over." Seras felt that she'd get an ulcer if her master kept this nonchalance act up; something was clearly very wrong if Sir Integra wasn't to be found.
Alucard strolled without hesitance down the streets, making offhanded comments about the lovely moon or Sir Integra's terrible driving (though he did concede that she was running for her life, so a little sloppiness could be forgiven). They turned a corner and Alucard froze, his carefree demeanor drastically changing. Seras gasped.
The very center of London Bridge had been smashed away, caving down towards the river. Alucard paused and stared down at a discarded car door. It looked like it could easily match the car Integra had taken to the conference.
Alucard began walking briskly over to the abandoned bridge, the angle making no difference to him. He paused and crouched down, and Seras craned her neck to see what he was looking at. He was sniffing at something on the ground, but jerked violently away from it. He threw off his fedora, overcoat, and sunglasses and, without a word, he plunged into the river.
Seras jogged closer to the wreckage, scooping up her master's belongings instinctively and setting them on higher ground. She then went back, sliding carefully down towards the dark red smear. She delicately sniffed and nearly screamed at the smell. It was Sir Integra's blood on the cement.
After several long minutes, Alucard bobbed to the surface, glancing around.
"Integra!" He yelled. There was no response. His face distorted into a snarl, "Integra, answer me!" He screamed louder. Still, no response.
He disappeared. Seras glanced around, as though Sir Integra was going to come out of hiding and giggle at her morbid joke.
"Sir Integra!" She wailed. There was no answer to her cries, either.
Seras scrambled back up to level ground. Walter had gone into a frenzy at the vampires' reactions, running around and crying out for her as well. She shook her head. No, it didn't make sense. If Integra had fallen in the river… No. She couldn't be dead, she just couldn't be!
Seras and Walter walked up and down the river, calling for her. Walter even drove back home, but she wasn't waiting there for them, irritated that they had abandoned Hellsing headquarters after a devastating attack. But there was no sign of her, nothing but the smear of blood to lead them on.
After hours, both of their voices hoarse, Alucard returned. There was no swagger to his step, no smirk of satisfaction or snarl of anger. There was no Alucard to him. Seras opened her mouth to speak but then he looked up, his face a haunting sort of hollow. As though he had lost the light in him.
"Her car's completely smashed at the bottom of the river," he reported blandly. "Anderson's dead, and her dress was nearby." Walter and Seras exchanged a look.
Alucard shut his eyes, raking his fingers through his hair.
"I can't… find her," he admitted. Walter stared at him.
"What do you mean you can't find Integra?" His voice rose, "She's your master; you have to know where she is."
"She's gone," Alucard murmured.
"Then we have to go find her!" Seras demanded shrilly, "She could be seriously hurt, and can't get to us. She could be imprisoned or-"
Alucard's cold eyes looked through Seras.
"There are a lot of tricks she has, but she cannot hide from me. Our link forbids it. I can always find her, no matter if she's block her thoughts or unconscious or anything else." He clenched his jaw, "She's. Gone."
Alucard turned to pick up his things, and then simply walked away from Walter and Seras.
III
Some of you might be wondering "hey, this sounds familiar…what's going on here?". Yes, this is familiar; after about a year of consideration, I took down the original "Dracula's Heart" in favor of a less OC third person approach (and just edited the first chapter so I didn't have to rewrite it…yeah, I'm lazy). Heck, pretty much the base line's the only thing that hasn't changed. I am looking forward to the new direction this is going to go, and hope y'all will like it too.