Rain fell steady and persistent in making its presence known. Staff and agents alike were garbed in either formal black attire, or their uniforms. Not a single smile was given or exchanged, not a word was spoken. They stood, motionless save for a salute or minor gesture to loosen their joints as a mass of mourners. Their tears if shed, were masked by the rain. An elegant casket sat several feet below the earth, uncovered for those that were present to pay their respects. A silver cross inlaid upon its surface. Several white lilies lay limp upon it, weighed down with the rain. A sword had been imbedded at the foot of the coffin, before the earth had been pulled away in reservation for its place. It belonged to the woman that now slumbered inside, no longer able to wake and bark orders or scold the soldiers that now stood to acknowledge her passing. And even as someone spoke of the last heir to the Hellsing legacy, not a single person could tear their eyes from where she laid; from where she finally could sleep in peace without the burden of her occupation and the haunting memories of her past. Upon voicing her name however, everyone seemed to become life-like once more. "And we are gathered here to honor and remember the great leader of the Hellsing organization, a Royal Protestant Knight, Sir Integra Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing." The mantra started as nearly silent, inaudible murmurs ghosting from the lips of Hellsing's agents. It grew, louder and more confident, overthrowing the rain as it began to pour and beat down in an attempt to oppress those below its wrath. "In the name of God, impure souls of the living dead shall be banished into eternal damnation! Amen!" They continued, repeating it over and over until it was a deafening roar. Lightning struck, sending a spark of light against the sky and a clash of sound in response. Silence fell; and slowly, the soldiers began to depart. Hellsing, was over.