Author's Note: Originally I was just going to keep this one on the DG account, but then I'm like, "ah, whatever. I'll post it to too."

Don't flag me, or you'll lose the privileges.

Also, I don't own it.

"Police Girl," Sir Integra drawled, exhaling a cloud of smoke, "I wouldn't give you this mission if I didn't think you couldn't handle it." She leaned one on hand, her remaining eye twinkling in the dim light of her office. "I have no doubts that you can conduct yourself in a manner befitting that of a Hellsing operative."

"It's not me I'm worried about, Sir." Seras fidgeted in the posh leather chair, fingers circling one of the decorative brass studs on the armrest. The elder woman's eyebrow arched and she looked off into the corner, Seras following the path with her eyes. They stared a moment at the vampire leaning casually against the wall. His face was cast into shadow, but both women knew that he wore a face-splitting grin at the Draculina's apparent discomfort with the situation. As they gazed at him, he moved into the moonlight, his eyes glowing an ethereal crimson.

"Why, Police Girl, I'm hurt," he purred sadistically, "Have I ever given you reason to doubt my good behavior?" Seras only rolled her eyes, unfazed by his false innocence. Sir Integra sighed, shuffling her papers.

"Remember what we talked about, vampire. This diplomacy mission is of the utmost importance—it is crucial that it goes well. And that means that you need to play your part—both of you," she amended, looking again at Seras, "and play it perfectly."

"I understand completely, my master," he replied genially with a snide bow. "You shouldn't concern yourself with authenticity. After all, I've been playing the part of a docile servant for decades now." The heiress' face colored with anger at the remark, but she didn't respond immediately, instead taking another drag on her cigar before extinguishing it in the ashtray and clearing her throat.

"As I was saying," she finally spoke, words laced with ice that suggested she wasn't too far off from putting a bullet or two in her "docile servant", "I have no doubt that you will do just fine, Seras. After all, you've changed much since you first came to Hellsing," she noted with a wry smile. "When you put your heart in it, you have an almost natural aura of leadership."

"Ah, um," Seras blushed. "Thank you, Sir," she finally muttered. Sir Integra inclined her head, looking through her bangs at the dossier lying in front of her on the desk.

"These Amazonian-like vampires…." she paused for a moment, collecting her thoughts before chuckling. "A matriarchal society of vampires is very rare, I believe. Do they submit to your rule, vampire king?" she teased, looking up at Alucard. The vampire considered the question before rolling his shoulders in an elegant shrug.

"I wouldn't know. I haven't dealt with them personally." He grinned wickedly. "They have their own punishments for criminals in their society, and therefore none of their kind has ever come before me for judgment."

"I assume you've already-?"

"Yes, the information you gave me last night is assimilated and processed." Another fang-toothed grin. "I am perfectly aware of the duties I owe to my new master." He purred the last word, his eyes sliding to roam over Seras' form as she sat rigidly in the chair. She scowled at him in reply, but it didn't seem to discourage the man in the slightest.

"Well then, I suppose you can go." Sir Integra waved him on, picking the folder off of the desk and handing it to Seras. "Inside this folder are copies of documents I've been gathering ever since this diplomatic meeting was organized. I want you to read over them well, Police Girl."

"Yes, Sir."

"I've also taken the liberty of compiling a wardrobe for your stay—you'll find the pieces in your room. I want you packed and ready to leave at dusk tomorrow. Oh, and Seras?" she added as the vampiress stood and prepared to phase.

"Sir?"

"I'd like you to keep in mind that while you are—for all intents and purposes— a simple soldier in my army, you are also much more." Seras blinked and turned back to face her fully, a perplexed expression on her face.

"Excuse me?" Sir Integra leaned back in her chair, regarding the girl with an examining eye.

"To the vampire community, you are a noblewoman, whether you like it or not. There are certain classes that it would be unseemly to mingle with; it's all in those papers. And I'm sure Alucard could explain it in more detail if you wanted a full-blown lecture," she added with a smirk. "Otherwise, just keep in mind that while you are on this mission, you are to act the part of nobility that knows her place in society."

"I understand," Seras replied, only half-lying. She did understand the concept of it, but putting it into practice would be the tough part. She was so used to being on friendly, equal terms with everyone—it was always discerning when she had to interact directly with vampires, whose ideas of equality was based on feudal terms rather than modern day notions. Sir Integra nodded and waved her on.

"With that being said: good luck and good evening."

"What the hell is this!?" Seras screeched, holding up a tiny black something in-between her thumb and forefinger. Something told her that it was some sort of shirt, but it was so thin, with so little material, that it looked more like a loincloth! "I hope she doesn't expect me to wear this!" she groaned, tossing the slip of fabric aside and picking up a skirt that was clearly over-hemmed.

"You can't complain about that, ma cher," The Captain replied as he floated lazily above her, twining around the ceiling lamp and blowing breaths of ethereal smoke down towards her. "It's no smaller than that skirt you normally wear."

"I'm going on a diplomatic mission, Pip," she scowled, throwing the skirt back and turning to eyeball the actual briefcase of cosmetics and haircare products sitting on the vanity. "Surely this has to be a joke. Alucard's just taken my business suit and left these here to make me angry."

"Because Alucard knows what sort of makeup a woman wears—and he'd remember to conjure up some socks for you, too, wouldn't he?" Pip sneered in reply, picking up a (thankfully) plain-Jane pair of black ankle socks. "No, I think this was the doing of that oh-so-diabolical woman upstairs," he continued to tease. "You know, if she wasn't so uptight all the time, she'd have made a very good prankster."

Seras shook her head in silent frustration and threw the dossier onto the bed. A laminated photograph slipped out of it, the edge showing nothing more than a pair of legs clad in pinstripe hose. The Captain whistled and she pulled it completely out to look at the complete picture. A woman sat on a throne made of…

"Are those bones?" Seras whispered in shock, peering closer at the black-and-white photograph. The Captain peered over her shoulder, looking at the picture with a lecherous grin.

"I'm not sure, but that's not what I'm focused on right now," he murmured into her ear. She pulled away with a glare and studied the woman sitting on the throne, which did indeed look like it was made entirely of skeletal parts. She was a buxom beauty, to be sure—in fact, her clothing left little to the imagination. Her dark hair (whether she was a brunette or darker, Seras couldn't be sure) was coiffed in a 1950s-style bouffant, complete with bangs that hung over the eyebrows and close to full, dark lashes. The shade of her eyes was impossible to tell in the colorless photograph, but they glistened with a sensual sort of pompousness that went well with the sneering half-smile on the painted lips.

She had a round face, with high cheekbones and a flat chin, and the rest of her seemed to be pretty rounded, too. She wasn't overweight by any means, but it was strange to see such a picture of a woman whose body hadn't been molded by computer magic or harsh dieting to look skinny and perfect. The way Pip was drooling over it, she was pretty sure he didn't notice the folds near her stomach or the thick, shapely thighs.

She was wearing what looked like a looser cousin to a corset, one that fitted the same but didn't give off the hourglass figure. Her breasts were nearly tumbling out of the garment, or at least the high swell of them gave off the impression. She had a mini-skirt and a dark pair of underwear beneath, with garters holding up her pinstripes and a surprising lack of shoes.

It looked very much like a pinup poster, though there was something more or less off-putting about the photo—it wasn't coquettish, but instead the woman seemed to hold an aura she'd more associate with Alucard. Vindictive, that's the word, she thought as she took in the scantily-clad sight. Turning the image over, she read Sir Integra's tidy scrawl on the back.

"Geneviève Voclain," Pip sighed, floating beneath her to look at the other side of the picture again. "Une beauté française after my own heart. What I'd give to go with you," he muttered to himself, lighting another cigarette.

"We've already gone over this," Seras grumbled, rolling her eyes with a pursed frown. "You've got to stay here and watch the house while I go off to… embarrass myself, it seems," she amended, looking pointedly at the "wardrobe" lying out on the bed. "Alucard's going to have a hard time not laughing his ass off every time he looks at me."

"Speaking of which, why's he even going?" Pip pouted. "This sexy Geneviève: she's the leader of the whole show, right? So why's he getting to go along?"

"Well, if I understand it right, nobility in the Voclain clan have their own personal male servants who act pretty much like completely devoted manwhores. They go around, sitting at their ladies' feet and doing everything in their power to make sure that she doesn't have to lift a finger; 99% of them are their lovers, too. They even get a name: the 'Famuli'. It's Latin for servant, or so Sir Integra said."

She sat on the edge of the bed, placing the photo aside and opening the dossier. She raffled through the pages until she found one with the heading that she needed. "See here? All about how I'm supposed to act with Alucard as my famulus. Listen." Pip obediently spread out on the ceiling again, giving her his attention as she read Sir Integra's words.

"As a top tier in the hierarchy of this society, you'll have Alucard to play the role of your famulus—the closest translation is 'servant', though they're more like a slave in this context.

Nothing to eat or drink passes your lips until he's tasted for poison. You shouldn't have to verbally call him; the minute your hand lifts, he should be there, ready for orders. It's not above status to use him as a footstool, or have him carry you if you get tired. He should kneel at attendance when all are seated, and stand two steps behind and to your right when standing or walking. He's not above any order, and it's quite common to see famuli being punished in various ways for not being fast enough, loud enough, tall enough, etc." She paused. "and there's three more pages just like it."

"My god," Pip murmured, his chest heaving strangely until Seras realized that he was trying to hold back laughter. "Mignonette! Do you realize just how beautiful karma is sometimes?" She looked up at him blankly, holding the papers in her lap. "It's perfect! Instead of being his pretty little pet, it's the other way around for once!"

"I'm no one's 'pretty little pet'!" she argued, voice rising. "I'd like to remind you that I'm not his servant anymore, he doesn't order me around like he used to, and for the past thirty-odd years, I've done whatever the hell I wanted to, everyone else be damned!"

"Sure, sure," he simpered, holding his hands up in a sarcastically placating way. "But if I were you, I'd milk it for all it was worth." He rushed down in a hiss of wind and cold shadow, grabbing the papers from her lap. "Any request, he's got to do without hesitation? Come on, Seras!" he urged, thumping the papers with one hand. They nearly passed through his translucent form, forcing him to put more effort into his shape than usual. "It's almost too easy! Imagine the satisfaction of watching the man who left you on top of Big Ben lick your boots clean!"

"I got down," Seras protested quietly, but in her heart a small seed of cruel vengeance was sprouting, unfurling leaves of ideas. A sinister grin crossed her face as she looked at the boots in question, but then the heavy boot of Reality stamped the seed back into the earth. "He'd murder me, first chance he got. He wouldn't stand for me to humiliate him in front of anyone, even if it was just playing a part." Pip chuckled darkly, shaking his head.

"My, my…." He tilted his head, moving to kneel in front of her on the small throw rug beneath her feet. "You still don't get it, do you?"

"Get what?" Seras frowned, using a certain tone that meant he was beginning to annoy her. In answer, the Captain picked up the photograph and looked at it again for a long moment appreciatively before waving it before her nose.

"How does she do it? How does she stay in command while the men grovel beneath her feet like obedient little lapdogs? How did Empress Lü Zhi get away with it? How did Mata Hari get away with it?" When she didn't answer, he pinched her cheeks. "Because they were women, Seras!" He brandished the photo again. "Look at that! Fuck yeah, I'd carry her around and taste-test her food! She's a woman," he repeated, looking at her seriously. "And so are you." He thumped her nose before patting her cheek. "Such a woman, though you still act like a girl sometimes," he chuckled, his fingers trailing over her collarbone before she smacked them away harshly, her shadows stinging like a whip's touch. He hissed through his teeth, shaking the hand before withering under her gaze. "See? You're doing it now, though not as favorably as I'd like…."

"What are you talking about?" she blurted out, puzzled. She thought he meant wiles, but she wasn't even trying to seduce him. Maybe he just meant he liked being smacked around; well, he did just admit to wanting to be that woman's willing slave.

"If a man smacked my hand away like that, I'd have punched his lights out. But you're a woman; I wouldn't dare think of doing that to you."

"If you're putting your hands on another man's chest, you deserve getting smacked," she resounded with a cynical smile.

"That's not what I mean!" he huffed, scratching the side of his head and upsetting his hat. "You women, from the time you're born you figure out how to play yourselves right up to the top, first with your daddies, then with your husbands, and then your sons." He shook his head. "And all our life, we can't escape it. You either turn on the charm or turn on the guilt. It's a deathblow, either way."

"You're being entirely sexist," Seras pointed out. "Men can charm and play for guilt too, just like we can."

"Oui," he agreed, floating back towards the ceiling, "but we're not half as good." He shook his head. "The point I was trying to make was that you could probably force Alucard to do anything you wanted, and then charm him up later to keep from getting punished. If you weren't such an innocent little filly, you'd have thought of it years ago."

"Do you even hear what you're saying?" she laughed mockingly. "Charm Alucard. He's… he's un-charmable! He's practically sexless, at that!" He made a face and she crossed her arms, glaring up at him. "In all the years that I've known him, he's never once had a lover of any sort," she pointed out, holding her index finger up and counting off her reasons. "He's never been overtly sexual concerning anything—including me, unlike you, he doesn't find it necessary to make everything a crude joke, and with his pants as tight as they are, I've never even seen him have an erection."

"You don't have to have two bodies to get off," Pip replied snarkily, holding his fingers up in a mockery of her. "He doesn't have to be overt about it, with his looks. Just because he doesn't say them aloud doesn't mean he never thinks them, and he wears that big coat for a reason."

"He doesn't always wear the coat—"

"I bet you anything he wears it when he's stiff." She drew in a gasp, but suppressed the outraged sound that threatened to burst from her.

"If you don't stop, I'll tell Sir Integra about what you're spewing on about."

"She'd probably agree with me. The woman's as proper as anything and she's still less of a prude than you, Mignonette."

"Oh… pack it in." Seras slumped down on the bed, giving him one last stern look before sorting through her new clothing, pulling her suitcase out from under the bed with her shadows. "I'll ask your opinion if I need it." She purposefully ignored him until she felt him drift to another part of the manor in order to spook some of the newer servants. A good and proper French poltergeist—that's exactly what this madhouse needed, she thought wryly. It's as if nature thought we were getting a little too normal around here.

She looked again at the cosmetic case, and then at her clothing, Pip's words still rattling around in her head as though he were in there instead of off accosting some poor scullery maid. She drew aside a covered case on the vanity and saw that Sir Integra had included everything: hot rollers, hair dryer, straightening iron… did she expect Seras to be a beautician while she was down there?! Still… the tiny seed of revenge furled up again, this time blossoming into a sensuous, twisting vine that threatened to ensnare the mental image of the ancient vampire and choke him in its creepers.

Maybe the Frenchman was onto something…. Just maybe.

"I'm serious Alucard. I don't want you to even think dissident thoughts while you're on this mission. Nothing should get in the way of your duty." Integra frowned at the vampire's choice of dress. It was really up to Seras to choose how he presented himself, but for the moment he seemed to have taken his new role of servant a little too seriously. He was dressed in black leather from head to toe, chains and bindings covering every available surface and jingling as he walked. It didn't help that he'd made it as skintight as possible, leaving nothing to chance.

"Of course not, my master. I told you last night; I've had decades of practice," he purred. Integra sighed. She knew he was only dressed like that to get a little jab in at poor Seras. It wasn't her fault that the Voclain clan was a matriarchal society, but even though she wasn't his servant anymore he still couldn't seem to keep himself from teasing her and making her life miserable at every available opportunity.

She wondered sometimes how Seras could take it all in stride, managing to ignore his many jibes and mockery with an air of enduring patience. And yet Seras acted disinterested in the cruel jokes, which did little more than fuel the fire; as a result, Alucard tried all the harder to get her to react. Integra couldn't help but liken it to a schoolboy pulling the braids of a girl he liked in order to get her attention, even if it made her cry in the process. It only made her feel all the worse for Seras; it clearly wasn't easy being fancied by an ancient, malevolent vampire king.

She knew that Seras returned the feelings—perhaps more so. Though the girl had never outright said anything, one only had to look close enough to see that she had a deep affection for her former master—one that ran deep enough for her to overlook his more annoying qualities, in any case. But while Seras might have even loved the man, she was sure that Alucard's attraction didn't follow the same path.

At first, she'd been afraid that he only desired the police girl as a potential lover, nothing more. But sometimes she could have sworn there was something there between them, something that meant Alucard had finally managed to form a real, healthy relationship with at least one person on the face of the Earth. If her hypothesis was correct, it would be quite the feat for him to have accomplished!

But of course Alucard was too callous to speak about anything he felt—even to Seras—and Seras was far too private and shy to share any deep feelings with her, no matter how close they'd become over the years. So she could only assume, speculate, and drill the ghostly captain on what little he might have picked up. They'd become partners in crime, almost; Pip only wanted Seras to be happy, and he understood perfectly well the complications that would arise with him trying to maintain a romantic relationship with anyone, even a vampire. So they both sat around on rainy days and discussed ways to get the two vampires together, each plan more outlandish than the last until his suggestions had her cracking her normally-stoic demeanor with laughter.

She was pulled from her introspection, shaking her head slightly as she realized that Alucard was still talking to her, and she was just staring off into space trying to decide if he teased Seras because it was fun, or because he wanted her attention to be solely on him. Alucard paused, taking the shake to mean that she disagreed with him.

"I'm sorry, I had my mind on something else," she admitted, rubbing one temple. "When you get old, it's hard to keep your train of thought on just one thing. Please repeat what you were saying."

"I asked you if you thought the Police Girl would be adequately prepared. After all, she only had one night to look over those notes," Alucard repeated obediently, but in a tone that suggested he wasn't at all happy to be ignored. Such a drama queen, Integra sighed mentally as he moved again and crossed his arms, chains clinking together.

"Agent Victoria is an excellent leader. She commands entire troops of men each night. She's good at getting orders and expecting them to be obeyed, so it should be nothing for her to transfer that over to you. Besides, she's always been very studious and prompt when asked to learn something for a mission. I'm sure she won't fail; otherwise, she wouldn't be put in this position in the first place."

"Seras can handle it," Pip added, floating up from the attic to join them on the roof. "She's looking forward to meeting this Madame Voclain… maybe she can get me a souvenir," he said hopefully. "She'd just gotten out of the shower when I went up to the attic to eavesdrop," he said carelessly with a shrug of the shoulders that clearly meant he wasn't sorry. "She should be up any minute."

"If she makes me wait much longer," Alucard started, but his threat was never finished as the door to the rooftop entry opened and the steward came, dragging two large suitcases to sit with the coffins. Behind him, a woman stepped out on the roof and came towards them. Even though there was only one other woman in Hellsing that didn't dress in staff uniform, she didn't recognize Seras at first.

"P-Please, I've got to go with them," The Captain begged, a strained note in his voice. "Mon Dieu, but she's something else."

Blonde hair, curled and bouncing with volume. A tight, form fitting black top with off the shoulder sleeves, accenting the bust and showing nothing but collarbone and creamy skin. The barest hint of midriff as she walked, glinting with the light of a low-slung silver belt. Black tights, showing every leg muscle and leaving nothing to the imagination. And high heels… eight inch high heels with open toes to show crimson toenails. Silver bangles, dangling silver hoop earrings, dark sunglasses hiding any hint of scarlet eyes. Long neck, rounded hips, and ruby lips curving into a devious, all-too-knowing smile.

"Reporting for orders, Sir." The pitch was familiar—it was Seras Victoria.

"Well… You really ought to wear makeup more often, Police Girl," Integra remarked casually before launching into her last debriefing before they left. Inwardly she was doing everything in her power to suppress her laughter, although it did leak out in a small smirk. And here she was, wondering if Alucard had dressed up to tease Seras, when it was the other way around! Anyone who saw her, and knew her as the shy, friendly young vampiress, would have been flabbergasted at this walking embodiment of sexy. It just showed how well the girl could clean up.

And if Alucard's reaction was anything to go by, she'd hit home with the outfit. The entire she had been speaking to Seras, her eye had really been on Alucard, gaging his reaction. She knew that to fit in, Seras was going to need something racier than a uniform, but to think the girl would look so… at home in it. That must have been what finally got to him, in the end. His eyes had been glued to her, raking over her form, muscles tensed beneath the chains and leather. She didn't even so much as glance his way, though Integra couldn't be sure whatshe was looking at behind the opaque lenses. He'd grown progressively uneasy, his body nearly thrumming with a strange sort of energy.

Then his eyes had torn away from her to the Captain, who had been ogling her much more openly, hands deep in his pockets—habitually, seeing as he was too transparent on the bottom to have much to hide in the first place—and cigarette dangling loosely from his lips as he shamelessly gawked. He glared at the Frenchman, eyes full of bloodthirsty rage and ice-cold animosity. It was the look that would have spelled death to a mortal, but the familiar didn't seem too worried about Alucard, giving him a 'do you blame me?' expression before continuing.

Alucard's gaze moved back to Seras again, who was still effectively ignoring both males with a steadfastness that was admirable, considering the conditions. Integra swore she heard his teeth grinding as he forced himself to look out over the training grounds, and her own grin widened at the display. She'd felt the emotions rear up in his mind—shock, confusion, anger, lust—before he threw up iron defenses and locked her out. But it was clear that this time, she had gotten the better of him instead of the other way around.

"I think that's about it. Be careful, and remember—I expect you to return with their alliance in hand, Agent Victoria." She glanced again at her servant. "And do take care of him while you're gone. I don't need a massacre on my hands; I'm getting too old for that sort of thing."

"Don't worry about him," Seras replied, the secretive smile playing once more on her lips. "I've got it under control. Pip, take care of the house, and for God's sake, stop acting like you've never seen a woman's breasts before." She snapped him rather quickly out of his lustful reverie, and he had the decency to blush before muttering some noncommittal adieu and slinking back to the attic to rattle the pipes. "Come on," she said in a brisk tone to Alucard. "I'd like to get there before sunrise." She held out her hand expectantly and he tucked her arm under his before phasing them, along with their luggage, to where the clan waited in a far-off catacomb.