Author's Note: Hello, my Impatient Ones! Forget plot-bunny. This plot Linebacker slammed into me this morning, and inspired me to write this. Now, as little Emmy Lou-Who the kitten rests upon my feet, I spin you a tale of magic, wizardry, witchcraft, and tiny soldiers. May I Introduce: The Fanged Wizard, a.k.a. De Vonderful Vizard of Transylvania!
1 . Me no own Hellsing. Aw.
2. Me no own WoO. Double Aw.
19-year-old Seras Victoria sprinted home from the Police Academy, her faithful mutt Baskerville in tow. She looked back as she ran, her blue and white police uniform bright against the dull gray of the cloudy English sky. After looking a third time, she slowed to a stop, kneeling at her hound's side.
"She isn't coming after us, Baskerville. Did she hurt you? Oh, she tried to, didn't she? C'mon, we'll go tell Mama and Papa. C'mon, Baskie!"
Reaching her parent's tiny farm, Seras ran to her parents' side. Her mother and father were busy pulling fluffy chicks out of an old incubator.
"Mama! Mama! Just listen to what Miss Winkle did to Basker-"
"Seras, please! We're trying to count!" her mother said, exasperated as she caught a runaway chick who tried to fly out of her hand. Seras gave her mother an incredulous look.
"But she hit him and-"
"Don't bother us now, honey," her father said patiently as he grabbed more chicks from the incubator and stuffed them in his floppy hat. "This old incubator's gone bad and we're likely to lose a lot of our chicks."
"Oh, the poor things…"Seras mumbled soothingly as she took a chick and rubbed it against her head. The chick blended in with her golden braids, cheeping comfortably. "Oh, but Mama; Miss Winkle hit Baskie with a rake just because she said he chases Schrödinger - her dumb old cat-every day! She also says he gets in her garden, but he doesn't!"
"Seventy;" her mother muttered to herself, taking the chick from Seras' shoulder and putting it in a box. "Not now, Seras! We're very busy!" She turned and walked back over to her husband, who was now sporting a hat full of cheeping babies.
"Oh, all right." Seras moaned dejectedly, walking over to where her father's hired help was fixing a broken wheel. Mr. Dornez and Mr. Fargason were holding up the wagon bed as Mr. Bernadotte leaned under the wheel, reattaching it. Seras watched them, intrigued.
"How's she coming?" Mr. Fargason asked as he strained to hold up the bed.
"Take it easy," Mr. Dornez shouted warningly from the other side, knowing that in his old age Mr. Fargason had a bad back.
"Ow! You got my finger!" Mr. Bernadotte exclaimed, followed by a few short curses in French.
"Well, move it!" Mr. Fargason said sarcastically. "Lucky it wasn't your head." Mr. Bernadotte glared at the older man before tending to his crushed finger with a sad expression. Mr. Fargason grabbed a bucket and went toward the hog pen. Seras ran toward him and grasped his elbow, talking rapidly.
"Oh, Mr. Fargason, what am I going to do about Miss Winkle? Just because Baskie chases that old cat sometimes-"
"Listen Kitten I gotta get them hogs in, not now." Mr. Fargason said absentmindedly, striding toward the barn.
"Listen Mignonette, you aren't using your head. You'd think you didn't have any brains," Mr. Bernadotte said with a shrug as he picked himself up off the ground.
"I have so got brains!" Seras snapped, turning and stomping her foot.
"Well, why don't you use them?" Mr. Bernadotte tapped the wagon, testing its strength. "When you come home, don't go by Miss Winkle's house. Then, Baskerville won't get in her garden, and you'll stay out of trouble, no?"
"No." Seras said obstinately. "You just aren't listening."
"Humph. Well, your head isn't made of straw, you know." Mr. Bernadotte cursed again as he banged his hurt finger against the hammer he held. Seras frowned at him before turning and walking toward the hog pen.
"Get in there before I make a dime bank outta you! Form formations!" Mr. Fargason yelled as he poked the hogs into the pen with a piece of lumber. "Listen soldier," he said as he watched Seras balance on the old wooden fence. "Are you gonna let that old Miss Winkle try and buffalo you? She's nothing to be scared of. Have some courage!" Seras looked back, her arms held out for balance as she walked along the edge of the hog pen.
"I'm not scared of her, Mr. Fargason," she quipped. Mr. Fargason chuckled and threw the slop into the pig trough.
"Well then, next time she squawks at you, walk up to her and spit in her eye!" he teased. "That's what I'd do." He looked up, only to gasp as he saw Seras lose her balance and fall into the mess of rowdy hogs.
"Oh, help! Help me!" Seras screamed as the hogs tossed her around, getting her tangled in the barbed wires. Mr. Fargason rushed over and pulled the wire off of the girl before carrying her to the other help, who had heard Seras' cries and had rushed over to save her.
"I say, are you all right Seras?" Mr. Dornez asked, his monocle threatening to fall off his eye.
"I'm okay; Mr. Fargason-why, Mr. Fargason you're as scared as I am!" Seras laughed, her adrenaline still racing.
"What's the matter, old man? Did a little piglet make a coward out of you?" Mr. Bernadotte laughed, clapping the panting man on the back.
"And just what is going on here?" Mrs. Victoria strode over with a plate in her hands, scattering chickens and laughs alike. She stopped at the group, glaring at them. "There's work to be done! If you don't get to work, I know three farm-hands who'll be out of a job. Don't make excuses, Mr. Dornez. I saw you over there, playing with your firearm inventions. That goes for you too, Mr. Bernadotte!" Mr. Dornez looked put-out, but nodded and started back toward the unfinished wagon.
"Well, alright, but one day they'll have a statue of me in this town, and-"
"Don't start posing for it now!" Mrs. Victoria snapped, holding out the plate. "Here, even I don't expect you to work on an empty stomach. Have some crullers." The men eagerly held out their hands, licking their lips at the prospect of the fried treat. "And you, Missy! There's no place for a young lady around a pigsty! Now quit pestering Mr. Fargason and let him feed these hogs!" She walked away, with Seras following her to grab a cruller from the plate. Taking a bite, Seras began again.
"Really, Mama; do you know what Miss Winkle said she was going to do to Baskerville? She said that-" Seras paused as her mother held up a hand.
"Really, Seras, you always worry too much over these things. Just do us all a favor and find yourself a place where you can't get into trouble!" With that, the woman walked quickly back to the house, her mind already on the list of things yet to be done. Seras sighed as Baskerville came up to sit at her feet. She grinned at the dog before breaking off a piece of her snack and giving it to him. She looked up at the gray sky, pondering her mother's words.
"Somewhere where there isn't any trouble….Do you suppose there is such a place, Baskerville? There must be!" Seras stared at the sky, lost in her imagination. She walked aimlessly, feeding bits of cruller to Baskerville as she wandered.
"It wouldn't be a place you can get to by a boat, or a train, or even a plane! It's a place far, far away. Behind the moon, beyond the rain…" she gazed thoughtfully as she heard a soft strain of music coming from inside, where her mother must have put on a record. Smiling softly, she sat on a haystack and began to sing.
Somewhere, over the rainbow….