Ok people, bear with me. It's been a whole whopping two years since I've actually written any form of fan fiction and nearly that long since I read an honest to God one. You may ask why I stopped and what I was doing in this interval and I don't mind answering. To why I stopped, I got bored and aggravated. I had an abysmally small reader following and was damn lucky to get a single review in a three month period. But I'm getting back up on the horse because I have an awesome idea I've been wanting to write on. Now onto what I've been doing. Over all this time I've been honing my skills; roleplaying on websites like Gaiaonline, reading genius authors like Terry Prachett and Neil Gaiman and over all letting the thought juices flow.
Well, let's get this shindig started but be warned, I have yet to honestly get the hang of separating my story content from my rants and such.
Prologue
Most stories start with a unique beginning, a thrilling middle and a heart wrenching or happy ending. These stories are works of the author's mind, a beautiful explosion of the original thought processes of their own intricate minds. But all stories are not islands of their own creativity. For with every unique creation there are an infinite amount of parallel universes created alongside it. Some of these are alternate times lines, some entirely different existences. What separate them can be something as simple as whether or not the main character chose to eat that sandwich, whether they turned left or right or whether or not they told that guy or girl how cute they looked.
But then you get those doppleganger Earths where major changes dominate it's history and sets it as its own. Maybe a war didn't go the same way, maybe the world's supposed Messiah was born a woman instead of a man. In fact, on that one point there is a utopian universe where a Herald for the dominating religious sect of all it's brother dimensions was born with the wrong equipment below the waist. As a result, when she went around trying to convert people she was completely ignored as a insane chick and that Earth lived in a very pleasant state where others would face years of strife and war because of one religion.
We now look upon such a universe, where the vast xylophone of probability hit a note far different then what would be assumed and the Demiurgic player smacked his forehead and uttered a galaxy shaking swear. The eye jumps down, past veils of time and space to the specific point in this new universe where history took a giant turn down the wrong corridor of history...
The Hellsing Manor 10 years prior...
The stately building is something that few but some of the most elite and clandestine of England's ruling class know even exists, let alone where its ground actually lay. It is home to the family that serves as Britannia's shield and sword against their greatest threat. You opposite of the fourth wall, you ordinary people of the every day hum drum may stop and wonder now whom that could be. This is where you start wrong, it is not a whom that serves the role of England's bane, it's a what. It's not Al Qaeda that would tear apart London block by block, It is not some descendant of Adolf Hitler rallying an army with in Germany's borderlands and is certainly not some new threat from some third world country that suddenly got nuclear arms.
No, England's greatest threat is something that is as old as human history itself and more chilling then the largest nuke. The inhuman forces of the dead rising and walking among the living. People and skeptics may scoff that the Undead hold no place in the world save movies, video games, literature and other works of fiction but this ignorance is merely the gift of years of secret blood shed and government cover ups. In this modern day man the undead are still a very real threat and it is only the Hellsing Organization that prevents England from being over run with Vampires, Zombies, Ghosts and the like.
We penetrate the outer walls of the mansion and dip several floors underground to the form of a sixteen year old girl running for her life. She isn't exactly what young men would call alluring. She's one of those late bloomers, still all knobs and knees, flat as a board on both sides and mostly ignored by their peers if not made fun of. But there is a hint of her of future magnificence and she can hold dear to the fact she carries an exotic quality. Her hair is long and as beautiful as a field of grain before the harvest, it resting just above the back of her waist. Her skin is a deep shade of milk chocolate, not in an African sort of way but hailing of the temperate lands of India. Two gorgeous blue eyes shine with fear behind horn rimmed glasses, a dried stream of tears evident below them.
She is Integra Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing, only daughter of Arthur Hellsing whom was the Organization's former director. Thoughts of anger, terror and depression pound through her mind as her expensive shoes clap loudly against ancient stone, nothing save adrenaline fueling her on. Her mind now skips back to only three days prior, resting on the morbid events that have left her in her current situation...
The room is quiet, smelling of antiseptic, pain and a dwindling life. Such are the last few hours of Arthur Hellsing's life. He lays on his death bed surrounded by the friends, family and associates who remain after his long years of service for her majesty, but his only sadness is coming from his leaving of such a life. In his younger years he was a heavy drinker and quite the womanizer, only one woman tying him down and taming him. He had fought horrible creatures that were the polar opposite of humanity and even dealt with one as Master. But thinking back on it all now, the doctor's final words and packing of equipment, the crying of his daughter and pained silence of the others a dim buzz, he wouldn't wish a single bloody second had never happened.
Arthur turns his head, forcing a smile upon his lips, locking his eyes on the misty ones of his own daughter. There...that was his only true regret in leaving this life. He would never get to see his dear, sweet Integra blossom into a proper woman or even dote upon any eventual grandchildren. With a hazard cough he opens his lips, rallying his words before he is taken. "Listen to me, Integra...After I die...Hellsing will be yours...You will lead Royal Order of Protestant Knights...to victory...And...protect England from the enemies of her church..." The elderly man falls into a fit of coughing as Integra tries her best not to collapse from the grief. With trembling parted lips and tears racing down her cheeks she manages to choke out, "Yes, Father..."
Arthur experiences another violent fit of coughing, his wizened hands grasping the sheets of bed tightly before he manages to pull himself together again. "Integra...I am sorry that I have to die so soon...I still...had many things to tell and to teach you...Remember...the future of Hellsing...lies on your shoulders...I wish I could stand guard over you forever...but clearly...I cannot..." His pained and sallow face turns, meeting with that of his brother Richard. "Richard...with my dying words...I beg of you...Please help and support Integra...!" With a face that does not betray his true feelings, the other Hellsing brother nods and answers, "Yes, Brother."
The perception jumps a head to this very day, resting only hours earlier. Richard Hellsing has shown his true colors and made his actual ambitions known. Around him are seven men. All loyal and all merely guns to his intellect. In an attempted coup on Integra's life she has been left alone in the Hellsing manor, any loyal guards already sent to a violent grave and the butler Walter sent on a circuitous errand. An eighth man comes running up from the opposite direction, both parties stopping as Richard gives him a look that reads "You better have something worth while to tell me". When his lips part his voice carries nothing save a tone of anger and deep rotted hatred. "Have you found her yet?!" The man, sweating from what his paranoia sums up to be his fate, slowly shakes his head. " So far, we've been unable to find any trace." Before he can even finish he is violently cut off. "Forget the rules and regulations! I want her found at all costs! For twenty years I've waited for my brother to die! Rather than giving the position to me, he's given leadership to a child!" His hand flies from his coat pocket, a Glock held tightly in his fingers. With a single motion he pulls the slide back and let's it slam forward, index finger testily on the trigger. "I want her killed! Eliminate Integra on sight!" Richard begins moving, entourage hastily following. "With her out of the way, we may work unimpeded! Move out!"
Unknown to Richard or any of his men, the young woman they seek lies directly above them, watching their every move from the safety of a ventilation duct. Her bare fist collides angrily with the cold metal, her teeth clenched shut. "It's been less than a week, and they've already come to this...Uncle, what of your morals?!"
The view skips once more to the present and is still centered on the tragic heroine that is Integra. Mercifully her position is still unknown to her corrupt Uncle and her very survival depends on this fact being true. A muffled scream escapes past her lips as she turns a corner, her right arm catching a low fixed lamp that she was unaware of. A bloody gash is present on her arm and a piece of her sleeve is caught on the lamp. Ignoring the throbbing pain she merely clamps her other hand over the wound, continuing her frantic run. Once more, with her heart throbbing in her ears, her mind slips into the past, but much farther then the last...
"Integra, before I die, I have only one more thing to tell you. When you are in extreme danger, or cannot defend yourself against forces superior in might...Take yourself to the forgotten dungeon beneath Hellsing. There lies our only secret weapon...It will protect you."
Once more the view skips and hops, landing back on Richard. He is visually fuming with anger, one man already standing apart from the rest, holding a sore jaw. "Is Integra still missing?! How can a small child be such a hindrance?!" The man, who Richard had obviously punched in the heat of fury, spoke up. "We've searched meticulously through the entire building. Nothing's been found! The only place we've yet to search is the basement." "No more excuses! If she isn't found soon the other members will begin to suspect! Hum...basement? It's been deserted for ages. It's been twenty years since it was sealed." Richard eyes fall upon the map before the men, running to the basement levels. "Remaining is Wizard Analysis Room, Library, Biology Centre, Holding Cell, Dissection Chamber, and Prison. Inform the rest of my coalition. Come with me to the basement."
Integra tentively opens the door, greeted with nothing but a darkness more foreboding then what she assumes is waiting for her back in those long and twisting hallways. Silently she enters the room, absorbed in the pitch black as she shut the door and locked it. Her dainty hands grope hopelessly across the wall. It takes several pain staking and never wracking moments but she finds a light switch, the room bathed in artificial light. Integra slowly turns around and takes the whole room in, her eyes widening in shock as sweat runs down her brow...
The room is completely empty save her...
One of the many Divine creators finishes off his swear, laying down the xylophone sticks and rubbing the back his neck. He was personally responsible for this screw up and he could only hope no one ever found out what happened. He turns from the instrument and hastily runs away, currently in the mood to get a strong drink.
Thoughts of sorrow and betrayal race through Integra's mind as she goes to the opposite corner from the door, huddling in it and hugging her knees. "Father, is this supposed to be my protection? This stark and clearly empty room? This isn't really funny...Father..." Gentle sobs causes her chest to rise and fall, she feeling completely alone in this world. "I thought a knight in shining armor await me...instead of this. If only such fantasies were reality...I would be happy...Oh Father...why have you done this? I don't want to die...I really don't..."
"Found her! She's right in here! We did it!" The secure silence of the holding cell was suddenly ended by several gunshots, the entire lock blown clear from the door. With the single smack of a rifle's butt the door was sent slamming into the adjacent wall, Richard's ten goons flooding in followed right by the man himself, the others parting to make way. Integra jumped to her feet, desperation evident in her voice. "No!" Richard chuckled loudly, an evil tone carried with it. "You hide yourself well Integra." "Uncle, why are you doing this?! Are you really so full of hate?! Are you fit to lead Hellsing?!" The sound of flesh connecting with flesh filled the air, Integra falling limply to the ground. In his rage Richard had punched her clear in the mouth, his niece gasping and sobbing as she tried to rose. Her questioning eyes sook his own, but only met the end barrel of the man's handgun. "Good night my little Fraulein..."
It was here that history took another turn, effectively pulling Integra's fat out of the fire. Screams of pain and fear exploded into the room, Richard spinning around just in time to be smacked to the ground by a corpse, gun skittering across the ground. Standing feet from the door way, seemingly an Angel of Death personified in human form was Walter C. Dornez, butler for the Hellsing family. He walked in a dignified manner to the scared men, black gloved hands resting at his side. Three of Richard's goons laid on the ground, bisected and otherwise cleanly torn apart by an unseen force. Walter came to a stop just before the door, gently kicking aside a severed arm. "My, my, my. Quiet the infestation of vermin we have here. Wouldn't you agree, Richard?" The surviving Hellsing brother got to his feet, his once dominate ego beginning to slip. What he saw in the older man's eyes were not the same gentlemanly kindness or even tolerance he had found their normally. No...those were the eyes of a human turned fiend, those of a person who could kill with out regret.
The sad truth for Richard was that very few things mad Walter angry. If his favorite soccer team lost, if the dinner burned, if the pet dog ran away, even if some one tried to mug him on the street he would merely give a sad sigh and move forward in his life. But when some one threatened those he held dear, those he protected and loved...they would receive no mercy! Few actually knew it and Walter would rarely say it, but he had always seen Arthur as a Father. The aged butler had come to the Hellsing's service when he was very young and had served into his old age now. For years he had suspected Richard and this all came to a head now. The bastard had threatened the life of his charge and had planned to destroy everything the late Sir Hellsing had worked so very hard to create.
"Well..don't stand there you idiots! Kill him! He's only one man!" The men rallied and raised their assorted weaponry, opening fire on their single enemy. Walter's aged lips pulled into a grim smirk as he moved faster then the human eye could follow. Bullets either dug into stone or ricocheted harmlessly into the winding corridors behind him, not a single round even coming in contact with Walter. His hands moved fluidly and unseen through the air, like some master conductor of a refined symphony. Silver lights, barely glinting in the gloom, raced from the tips of his finger, dancing around the men and their guns. Where they touched metal was cleaved, flesh was sundered and blood was released into the world.
Only Richard, Integra and Walter remained alive, the villain of this story realizing now that he was between a rock and a hard place. "You fools. I have fought the Undead and have served as a Hellsing Trash man from a time when I was younger then Miss Hellsing. Your traitorous rebellion served for light entertainment." Richard stumbled back, fear evident on his face. "Now...Walter..." Blood blossomed on the man's cheek, a thin cut made by the gentleman's weapon of choice. He had only one gamble left, take Integra hostage and use her to win his escape. But as he turned around, all the color proceeded to drain from his face. There stood Integra, but no longer was she whimpering, crying or trying to plead for her life. She gave him a glare as heartless as that of a shark, her eyes two freezing gems of the purest ice. Aimed square at his heart was his own lost gun, she having grabbed it in the confusion. A single shot rang out and Richard fell to the ground and crumpled, his life quickly fading away.
Integra's eyes met those of Walter, no remorse or regret transmitted in the least between the two of them. The two of them were the future of England, the destined protectors of all British mankind. On a stage of bloodshed and terror Master and Servant stared at each other as equals.
Well, that was the prologue every one, I hope you enjoyed it and wish to see more of how this story unfolds! Any and all reviews are welcomed and you god damn better submit some!