Let's start off this story with some very important disclaimers:

1) I do not own Hellsing, Hellsing Ultimate, or any of its characters.

2) I do not seek to endorse or defame the Roman Catholic church. This fic is the product of hours of research and years of going to mass, and I hope that I have portrayed the faith as accurately as possible. The anti-Christian comments come from Alucard, and as anyone who has read/watched Hellsing knows, he makes no secret of his hatred for the Catholic church. I chose to portray Seras as more reasonable, and to counteract his unbridled hatred and snide comments. Please let me know if I have made any errors in my description of the church, and I will seek to rectify them. If you intend to flame me for my portrayal of my own faith, however, I will happily mock and/or ignore you. Thank you for your understanding.

PMs and reviews are always appreciated. Your input makes me a better writer, so it's really a win-win.

-Kano

Flesh and Blood

"I'm sorry. Can you repeat that?" Alucard asked, positively gleeful.

"I need your help," Alexander Anderson hissed through gritted teeth.

"Aaaand?"

The priest sighed heavily. "Please?"

The vampire grinned widely. "No."

"No?! What do you mean 'no', you treacherous heathen?"

"It's a Catholic church," Sir Hellsing interjected before her servant could further torment the Iscariot. "It's outside our organization's jurisdiction."

"And I just don't like you," Alucard added, much to his master's chagrin.

"The vampire is hiding in a monastery, aye, but he has been preying on the common man," Anderson protested. "This is England! Are the English people not in your jurisdiction?"

"Not the religious nutcases," Alucard muttered.

Integra shot him a venomous glare as she asked,"Why are the Iscariots interested in this case, if it is our jurisdiction, as you claim?"

"We have other, more pressing issues at hand."

"Like your little cardinal party," the vampire sneered.

"Aye, our consistory."

"In England?" Alucard sneered again. It wasn't as though the country was known for its Catholicism.

"So we wanted to promote our religion -"

"Absolutely not!" Integra screeched. "Your church will not have a presence in a Protestant country!"

"Regardless, the vampire -"

The Hellsing director brandished her index finger at Father Anderson as though it were a weapon, and he fell silent. "Move your meeting. Gather the cardinals in Italy, or someplace else. I don't care where, just not here; not in my country. Those are my terms."

The priest extended his hand toward the blonde woman. "Agreed."

"Then what would you have us do?" she asked calmly.

"I need one of your agents to go undercover, to find out which traitorous priest must be dealt with."

It was Alucard who chimed in. "Dealt with? I would be more than happy to 'deal with' any of your kind." He sounded like a child on Christmas morning as his voice quivered with undeniable excitement and anticipation.

"Touch only the one who has betrayed our heavenly father," Anderson hissed. "Or you will have me to deal with."

"Consider it a deal," the vampire agreed. "I'd shake on it, but I would rather not find out if insanity is contagious."

"I wouldn't shake your hand anyway, you monstrous heathen!"

For once, Alucard ignored his opponent's banter, instead shouting down the hallway. "Pack your bags, police girl! We're going to church!"

"I look ridiculous," the No-Life King groaned as he emerged in full clerical rainiment. From his polished black shoes to his clerical collar, he looked every inch as priestly as the Iscariot standing beside him, and it disgusted him. "Remind me why I agreed to wear this."

"Because," Integra spat back, "you wanted to, and I quote, 'deal with', a Catholic priest."

"Aye, don't you be backing out of our deal now," Anderson chimed in.

"Why doesn't she have to wear this?" the vampire whined, jerking his thumb at Seras.

"Only men can be priests!" she insisted. "Besides, Sir Hellsing tells me I won't be going into the monastery."

"Lucky you," Alucard muttered darkly, his lower lip jutting out in what was most certainly a pout.

"How were you going to manage this infiltration when you have no clue about Catholic customs?" Seras queried.

"I know plenty!" he protested. "I used to be Catholic, in fact, I killed people for not being Catholic!"

Seras tilted her head like a confused puppy. She had always assumed that her master had always be Protestant, like Sir Hellsing. "What happened?"

"Being beheaded tends to shake your faith, police girl."

"I meant, how did you forget everything about Catholicism?"

"I haven't been to church since I died. How do you think I forgot?"

"Oh..." Seras replied lamely. "I suppose the church has changed a lot since then, anyway. Well, master, if it makes you feel better, I haven't gone since I graduated from Catholic school."

"The nuns must have loved you," Alucard chuckled darkly, watching Seras shiver. She still had the scars from their vicious rulers.

"Well, Seras," Integra spoke as she entered the room, "I hope your memory is more reliable. We'll be needing your expertise."

"You will, Sir Hellsing?" the former cop echoed. "What for?"

"You will be going as well," Integra explained.

"But... I'm a girl!"

"Yes Seras. We noticed," the Hellsing director quipped. "You will stay outside, providing Alucard with all the information he will need to remain inconspicuous and sniping if the situation gets... hairy."

"Yes ma'am," the draculina answered smartly.

"Kiss up," Alucard muttered under his breath.

"And as for you," Integra said, rounding on him. "You are to be on your best behaviour. If I see so much as a scratch on any non-vampire priest, I swear you will regret it." Alucard could almost see the light bulb switch on as she gave a little gasp of remembrance. "Oh! And Father Anderson will be expecting you at Sunday mass shortly. You'd best be on your way."

The bells tolled eight times, signalling the start of mass at St. Benedict's. The surly vampire found himself seated next to a very frustrated Father Anderson. It wasn't the priest's fault; anyone would be cross after being subjected to a thirty minute car ride with a man who thrived on other people's pain. Alucard had began the car ride by laughing at Anderson's cassock, the iconic priestly garb he wore daily to demonstrate his life choices. He then proceeded to bemoan the fact the he too had to wear the ridiculous get-up, demanded to speak with the pope about his fashion sense, and threw his rosary out the car window. On top of it all, Alucard then finished the trip by pondering how, and more importantly whom, he would have to eat during the infiltration. Naturally, the priest was finding it difficult to focus on his worship.

Abbot Aidan O'Brien, Seras informed Alucard via their mental link as the head of the monastery walked slowly and solemnly down the aisle to heavenly music. On Integra's orders, she was at a coffee shop across the street, using a laptop and her telepathic link to her master to keep him posted with all the information he would need. He is in charge of all the monks and priests residing at St. Benedict's.

So he's the chief of the sociopaths, the vampire said scathingly. I hate him already.

Alucard felt his left eye begin to twitch as he bowed his head in unison with the congregation. He sighed heavily as the Abbot presided over the mass, causing Anderson to elbow him in the side. The vampire felt like elbowing the priest back, but decided that the other clergymen might find it suspicious if he started a brawl. Then he wouldn't get to kill anyone and this torturous church service would be for nothing.

He looked around, unsettled, when the assembled masses began to speak in unison. "I confess to almighty God and to you, my brothers and sisters..."

What on earth are they doing? Alucard groaned. They're so apologetic and whiny.

Confessing their sins! Seras bemoaned. They're supposed to be apologetic!

Stop your whining and open your book. You stick out like a sore thumb when you stand there silently! another voice shouted, echoing inside Alucard's skull.

Master? the shocked vampire asked. Why are you in my head? Also, how?

Who else would it be, you dimwit? Integra demanded.

She can listen in on our conversations if she keeps in physical contact with me and I focus on letting her into my mind, Seras explained.

And just how did you figure this out? Alucard wondered.

That is of no concern to you, Integra insisted. Now open your book and stop standing there like a slack-jawed buffoon!

Much to the vampire's relief, the chanted prayer subsided.

Oh thank god it's over, he sighed in relief. But it wasn't. A thunderous arpeggio rang out behind him as the pipe organ groaned to life. A swelling wave of voices grew into a sonorous chord. You can't be serious...

You've only been here for five minutes, master, Seras informed him patiently. They haven't even start-

This is torture! he interrupted.

You make it sound like-

How do these insane people stand this?

What are you... Oh. The choir. Seras stifled a laugh. Her master hated many, many things in this world, but singing was toward the top of that list, never mind the tone-deaf singing of a church gathering. The joyous noise assaulted his ears like tanks marching to war. He must have been making a face, for Anderson stomped on his foot under the pew. Alucard tried to force a benevolent smile while still trying to hide his elongated canines. The result was rather terrifying, and not at all kindly. The vampire could feel his stomach rebelling against the musical din, threatening to void itself.

Alucard practically collapsed back onto the wooden bench when the song was over. He was about to rejoice when a lector stepped up to the pulpit and opened a gold-leafed book. The vampire slumped further down in his seat.

"A reading from the book of Job," the lector started. "Then answered the LORD unto Job out of the whirlwind, and said, gird up thy loins now like a man: I will demand of thee, and declare thou unto me. Wilt thou also disannul my judgment? wilt thou condemn me, that thou mayest be righteous? Hast thou an arm like God? or canst thou thunder with a voice like him?"

Wouldst thou put me out of my misery, police girl? Alucard begged.

Get a hold of yourself, master, Seras urged.

Listening to this garbage makes me so furious. This pretentious god tells this sap to suffer in silence, because he can do what he wants. I should be a god. I already do what I want!

Seras sighed. The passage is telling us not to wonder why we must suffer, but that the reasons are vastly complicated and impossible to understand.

So... this god guy does what he wants and then gets away with it?

Seras sighed again. For a someone who had lived for five hundred and sixty-eight years, Alucard was capable of unbelievable immaturity.

"The Word of the Lord," the reader finished.

"Thanks be to God," the congregation murmured in unison. Alucard looked around in surprise; he had no idea what to say.

Thanks be to god that it's all over, the snarky vampire said, relieved.

Master, Seras groaned, you've only been here for fifteen minutes. Mass is an hour long, minimum!

Alucard swore bitterly. I don't get it, he moaned. Mass was never like this for me when I was alive... In fact, the extent of our religious services was a priest telling us to kill in the name of God, and blessing our kills with the sign of the cross, extra blessings for impaled heathens.

Things change in five hundred years, master.

I'm well aware, police girl, he started, but his words soon dissolved into a fit of swearing; the music had started again. He uttered a string of blasphemous curses. Fortunately for the swearing vampire, it was only a short song, though it was followed by another excerpt.

"A reading from St. Paul's first letter to the Colossians," the reader continued. "Now I rejoice in what I am suffering for you, and I fill up in my flesh what is still lacking in regard to Christ's afflictions, for the sake of his body, which is the church."

This Paul person is an utter fool. Only a moron takes pleasure in their own suffering! Alucard insisted.

Father Aidan grabbed his bible and took the reader's place at the pulpit, walking at a snail's pace as the choir sang, "Alleluia." Frankly, the vampire wished the fat man would walk a little faster, but the hefty abbot looked a bit out of breath as he ascended the small box behind the podium.

"The Lord be with you," the broad-waisted abbot said, a peaceful smile on his face. Only, that's not what Alucard heard. Thanks to the Abbot's heavy Irish accent, the inattentive vampire heard 'lard' instead of 'lord', and the sentence took on a whole new meaning.

Apparently the lard has been with him for a while, the vampire chuckled.

"A reading from the Holy Gospel according to Matthew," the fat friar continued.

"And also with you," the congregation boomed. Alucard quickly moved to cover his mouth so no one would realize that he had no idea what he was doing.

"You have heard that it was said, 'Eye for eye, and tooth for tooth,'" the abbot read. "But I tell you, do not resist an evil person. If anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to them the other cheek also. And if anyone wants to sue you and take your shirt, hand over your cloak as well..."

Alucard promptly tuned the man out. The priest was clearly insane; he gave terrible advice! If someone slaps you, you slap them harder. If someone wants to take your shirt, you choke them with it! Two eyes for an eye, a fist full of teeth for a tooth. The vampire was relieved when the hefty abbot stopped talking, but his relief quickly dissolved. Instead of stepping away from the pulpit, the priest closed his bible, took a deep breath, and just kept talking, explaining the very passage he just read.

The vampire sighed heavily and sank back onto the wooden bench. Anderson sent him a dirty look, but had long since given up hope that the vampire beside him would behave properly, instead settling down for a lengthy homily; Father O'Brien was not known for his brevity.

It was only when the No-Life King let out a loud snore that the Iscariot intervened. He coughed loudly to cover his partner-in-crime's offensive noise, then elbowed the napping vampire in the gut, knocking the wind out of him. Alucard coughed as well when the air vacated his lungs, causing the devout parishioners to stare angrily in his direction; even the Abbot was staring at him. The oversized man, still delivering his sermon, waddled toward the uncomfortable vampire, whose eyes darted around, desperately searching for an escape route. The priest, decked from head to toe in green robes, reached into one of his draping sleeves and pulled out something small, round, and wrapped in cellophane, which he then handed to Alucard.

The vampire had to resist the urge to shudder when the Father O'Brien's warm skin brushed his cold, dead hand. If he were a lesser vampire, who knows what might have happened. He could have burst into flame, or had his flesh melt away. Even as a more than five hundred-year-old vampire, it wasn't pleasant. Alucard felt bile rise in his throat; his desire to vomit on the saintly priest was growing. Thankfully the Abbot retracted his hand swiftly, leaving a cough drop in the vampire's long fingers.

The rotund priest quickly finished his homily (Those who retaliate will not enter the Kingdom of Heaven.) and returned to the altar, sitting in chair off to the side. The congregation was quiet, and their heads were bowed in prayer. Not wanting to blow his cover, and thereby miss his chance at violence without a lecture from Integra, Alucard did the same. The silence seemed to stretch on even longer than the fat friar's preaching; the vampire was bored.

Hey police girl, he called telepathically. How are things?

Things, master? she asked, confused.

You know... information-gathering support things...

I'm not sure what you're asking.

I'm bored, police girl. Tell me things are more interesting over there... wherever you are.

Things are more interesting over here. Alucard could practically hear her rolling her eyes.

There's no need to gloat!

Seras had to stifle a snort; for being more than five hundred years old, her master could behave awfully immaturely sometimes. I'm sitting in a coffee shop with my boss. I have coffee and a laptop, and Harkonnen is hidden under the table. It's not all that thrilling.

Now you're just telling me what I want to hear.

You're being ridicu-

Alucard! Integra screeched, intruding on their telepathic hijinks. Pay attention!

His master's less than soothing voice reminded the vampire of his surroundings. Integra was right to interrupt them; the entire church was standing, minus him, and Anderson was glaring daggers in his direction. The parishioners were also chanting something, but what, Alucard had no clue.

Police girl! What are they mumbling about? he demanded.

It's the creed, she explained. They're stating what they believe in.

What the hell do they believe?!

Look it up! she hissed back. It's in the missal.

Missile? Alucard wondered, confusing the religious text for a weapon of mass destruction. I didn't realize the church was so well defended...

The book! she groaned. Open the book on the back of the seat in front of you.

The vampire reached out, but his arm stopped halfway its destination.

There are two books! he said, a hint of panic creeping into his voice.

One of them is all music. You're looking for the other one.

Handling the books like a classy lady might handle a dog's fecal matter, he tenuously opened one of the books and leafed through. Sure enough, it contained nearly a thousand songs, every last one sure to make the vampire want to puncture his own eardrums with the nearest sharp object. Alucard threw the leather-bound pages to the floor in disgust, opening the other book instead.

You're looking for the Nicene Creed, Seras informed him. It should be near the middle of the book.

The book in question had several hundred pages. 'Near the middle' was not the most helpful description. Alucard hastily flipped page after page, at last landing on the one bearing the heading he had been searching for.

"... and the life of the world to come. Amen," the congregation finished. Alucard, who had just opened his mouth to join in, promptly closed it once again, slamming the book shut with more vigor than necessary. He found himself glaring angrily at the muscular man who took his place at the podium.

That is Father Rea, Seras informed him coolly. He's the almoner, so he's in charge of charity and helping the poor.

Poor sap, Alucard sighed. No wonder he looks so miserable.

It wasn't just Alucard's imagination; the large priest wore a distinct frown. His muscles bulged under his black cassock. Frankly the priest looked more like a body-builder than a man of god. The sinew in his neck threatened to snap his collar when he swallowed and took a big breath before speaking in a deep, bass voice that rumbled the walls of the church like a foot pedals on a pipe organ.

"That our world leaders may turn the other cheek when dealing with other nations, that our international community might find peace. We pray to the Lord."

"Lord hear our prayer," the parish clamored in unison.

"That we might remember the lessons and the love of Jesus when dealing with our fellow man. We pray to the Lord."

Again, the assembly echoed back with the traditional response.

Predictably, Alucard rolled his eyes and dismissed the whole ritual as silly, though he mumbled the response with the rest of the congregation both to keep up appearances and to keep the observant Iscariot's pointed elbow from digging into his ribs.

"For the sick and the suffering," Father Rea continued.

Do they really think that wishing is going to cure these people? Alucard wondered to Seras.

It gives them hope, master.

"For the deceased, that they may-"

The father was cut off by a blood-curdling yell and a metallic clamor. Whispers spread through the congregation like a wildfire; yelling in church was considered quite rude. A few people stood to see just what had happened. They found their answer on the altar.

Several priests in the congregation had joined the abbot on the altar during Father Rea's prayers to prepare for next part of mass: the eucharist. One of them, a skinny, bespectacled man, lay on the floor, unmoving.

Father Anderson stood and forced his way to the aisle, then briskly walked onto the altar, pausing only for a moment to make a sign of reverence to the crucifix hanging high above. He hurried over to the fallen man's side, ordering the other priests to, "Move aside! Vatican Special Forces, Section XIII!"

The Iscariot's powers were for more than just combat, or so Alucard found out. Murmuring verses, the Father placed his hands upon the victim's torso. The man's eyes fluttered open as he blinked slowly several times. As he regained consciousness, he regained his memory. The fallen priest, still on the floor, began to scramble backwards, away from the goblet he had taken from the tabernacle. Anderson's face grew even more concerned as he watched the terrified priest begin to tremble. What in God's name could make a man act like that? He intended to find out.

Anderson bent down and picked up the golden goblet, and nearly dropped it himself. There could be no doubt that something was wrong in this church; inside the vessel was a chunk of human flesh in a pool of congealed blood.

A/N: Just to reiterate, I do not intend for this fic to insult anyone. I am Roman Catholic, and I am making fun of my own faith through the eyes of Alucard, who has made no secret of his hatred for the Catholic church. Furthermore, I feel that by finding the flaws in our faith, we can meditate on them and use them to strengthen our resolve. If you wish to have a healthy religious debate, please feel free to PM me. If you wish to flame me, I will laugh at you and then ignore you.