Summary: Integral goes through men faster than they go through their shirts.
A/N: Once again, I proclaim my endless fascination with Integral Hellsing. This takes place after Chapter 85, Warcraft 3. Do know that this is spoilers for so many volumes.
Please do be smart enough to give a substantial review, will you? I'll forever be grateful to you.
I sincerely hope I've done the word "subtlety" justice.
Disclaimer: I'm not of the male persuasion. I'm still a student. I'm not from Japan. Gasp! Could this possibly mean that I'm not Kohta Hirano?
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She raised her eyebrow in amusement at the laconic Captain, directing her to the location of the Major. An honest lapdog, who would have thought?
Integral left Seras to face the Captain as she set off to butcher a pig herself. This time, she was going to do her job herself; the job she had inherited.
How would her father react if he saw her now?
Here she was, on a blimp of a Neo-Nazi bent on destroying England with his 1000 vampires, and she was going to kill him herself. Oh he must be so proud of her.
Arthur Hellsing taught her the ways of their family. He taught her the strengths of a vampire. He taught her why and why not they should be feared. He instilled in her the strength, the pride, the dignity, and the honor of a Hellsing.
He left her alone. He denied her a normal childhood. He didn't give her the comfort of the existence of other blood relatives. He unknowingly left her in the hands of his brother, the treacherous bastard that he was. He gave her the very thing they were fighting against as her guardian. He placed the very heavy burden of fighting vampires in secret on her once-frail shoulders with no option to lift it.
Oh how God must mock her.
Be glorious, Integra, he said.
Vampires. Knighthood. Battles. The Round Table. Ghouls. Loneliness. Iscariot. Conflicts. Discomfort. Millennium. Secrecy. Treachery. Swords. Guns. Blood. Destruction. Death.
Be glorious.
He died.
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Five artificial vampires faced her. Integral shot one while it was still turning to face her. She shot another one straight between the eyes as they stood in shock. Then, as if by a signal, they attacked her all at once. She merely stepped to the left, one of the vampire's claws scratching thin air only to have the unwelcome entrance of a silver bullet in his head.
As soon as she pulled the trigger, another charged up front. With her left hand, she grabbed another gun from an inside pocket of her coat and barely managed to hit the vampire's chest before it sank its teeth into her flesh.
The last one watched the others die and clenched its claws as he caught her vulnerable, neither gun trailed on him. She smirked. He charged. She threw her guns at him. He was slowed for a second. She impaled him on her sword. Dust blew on her face, blurring her already stained glasses.
Her hands weren't so steady then.
Her hands needed an arm support in the past.
If she was raised normally, Integral would have trembled before five vampires. She wouldn't even be able to hold a gun properly. She had to remember to thank her uncle Richard. After all, he did fulfill his duty: he had supported Integral to make her what she was now.
She had been staring down the barrel of a gun.
Richard Hellsing helped her make her first kill, a human kill at that.
He revealed Arthur's gift to her.
Even traitors had their uses.
He died by her hand and his gun.
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Integral looked out of the window and saw Hell. All she could see were the black charred remains of buildings and bodies; the red blood on the mangled and impaled; and the orange flames burning merry ol' England.
The graveyard she had to tend to had gotten larger than she expected.
The place she was supposed to protect, destroyed, a huge part of that destruction was made by her own pet.
Winston Churchill must be laughing at her at this moment. Integral wondered who was better off between the two of them.
Humans, Sir Shelby Penwood had said, must fight to the very end.
She could count the remaining number of humans left in London with her two hands. Integra shrugged to herself, it was an order and they all had to follow it. Sir Penwood had done his duty. She had to do hers.
She had thought he was the traitor; only to find out that he was a man after all. He was incompetent, and cowardly, but he was still a man; he stood by his word, he had honor.
He was born to his position; he accepted that it was given to him. He did the work he was given. Integral understood him in that sense. They were both bound to their orders.
Years ago, Sir Penwood had underestimated her. She had grinned at him, asking him to take care of her. Now, he pushed her away from one of Death's innumerable lunges at her that bloody day.
He was a man, the godfather she never had.
And he died for it.
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Sir Integral Hellsing barely knew him, Captain Pip Bernadette.
A Frenchman with red hair reaching down his waist in a braid and sported an eye patch; a man whose only God was measured in pounds and francs. His file said he and his men, the Wild Geese, were military experts, faithful and efficient to a price.
He was remarkably perceptive, having perfectly understood the dynamics of the Hellsing organization and its members. He knew employment under Hellsing would be signing his and his men's death warrants, but he did it anyway.
Walt--no, her former butler had been the one to reassure her that they, the Wild Geese would not betray.
A sardonic smile crept on her face.
Pip showed himself to be fearless in Rio de Janeiro. He proved himself priceless when her manor was attacked by Millennium; paying the ultimate price for survival.
For two rookie vampire hunters, she got an excellent vampire killer.
He had died for duty and for love.
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She resumed walking. Integral removed herself from the sight of Hell, fully aware it was her own power that induced it.
Power creates. Power builds. Power controls. Power destroys.
Everything and everyone followed the trend, whether they knew it or not. Apparently, Enrico Maxwell's power destroyed him first.
Destruction of all heretics, ascension to greater power, both what Maxwell wanted. What was unclear to her was his first priority.
Like her, he preferred authority. Integral demanded loyalty. Maxwell demanded subservience. They both had pets, their aces, their trump cards. She had a master vampire fond of his guns. He had a regenerator priest attached to his bayonets. They both had organizations and men. She had the Hellsing Organization and the Wild Geese. He had Vatican Section XIII, Iscariot Organization. Both had its men decimated, but both leaders had their pride. She swallowed hers. He fed his.
Integral was still alive. Maxwell wasn't.
He died not by the hands of his pet, but by his own power.
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There were no more vampires to block her way anymore. Was that it? Were the rest of the vampires down in England whose undead blood fed the earth? The Major certainly wanted her to live and reach him. Integral smirked to herself; at least she wouldn't tire so soon.
Heh, no Anderson to jump in either.
The first time she met him, Father Alexander Anderson had tried to kill her. The second time she did, Alucard and Anderson were about to destroy the Imperial War Museum. The third time they met, he ended up rescuing her.
Assassin Anderson. Executioner Anderson. Regenerator Anderson. Bayonet Anderson. Angel Dust Anderson. Paladin Anderson.
There was a time she wondered why the hell someone would give him a delicate name such as 'Angel Dust'.
He was the trump card of the Iscariot Organization as much as Alucard was the ace of the Hellsing Organization. Anderson was too tall to be a human, too quick and agile for a human, but he was a human nonetheless, for he was too resilient.
He was a killing machine, yet he had his rationality. He was under a power-hungry archbishop, yet he had his independence. He had no hesitations in his duty, yet he could practice restraint. He held sharp, blessed bayonets, yet he took care of orphaned children. He was a perfect gentleman to Integral because he didn't want anyone else to destroy the Hellsing except for Iscariot.
So absorbed was Anderson in his intent to kill Integral's pet that he was perfectly willing to turn into a monster to do the job. And oh the anger and disappointment of her servant; she understood perfectly why the vampire shed bloody tears for his enemy.
Humans are always better than monsters. Humans don't give up.
He died.
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A cigar. It was just what she needed at the moment.
She got one out of the box in her coat and lit it, savoring the flavor. It was at that instant that Integral remembered that someone else used to do this for her, the cigar then tasted bitter.
She grimaced as she closed her eyes. Integral had relinquished her hold on her former butler a while ago, but it seemed that he released himself longer than that, much longer.
Why, bloody hell, tell me why?
Was she truly that difficult that no one lasted long enough to take care of her?
She asked a high price of her men. She wanted skill. She needed discretion. She required intelligence. She demanded loyalty. Walter was perfect, the former Hellsing trashman and then an excellent retainer, second to none.
It seemed she paid a high price herself.
He had bowed to her, assured her that the Wild Geese would not betray.
Integral could not help but chuckle, the sound hollow in her ears.
She had asked him whether they were done for.
He assured her they were not.
She had asked him whether she did the right thing.
He replied he was merely a butler.
Oh, Walter.
He told her not to come back for him no matter what.
She ordered him to come back to her at all costs.
…
He didn't, and he never will.
A hit from the front hurts. A blow from the back stings; you never see it coming. It was that one injury that nothing could heal; a strike from the back would hit the spine, effectively paralyzing the entire body.
He had betrayed her by taking care of her for so long and then turning to the enemy. She betrayed him by awarding his fine service to her in the past by rewarding him with death.
She told him to die.
He will, soon.
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Integral Hellsing had sworn to protect her country from the undead; she was a Knight of the Realm after all. Time and time again, she had clamped down the attack of her enemies with no remorse.
He made her soldiers her very enemies.
She shot them with tears streaming down her face.
He made human soldiers attack her men.
She told her servant, "Search and destroy."
He had his vampires chase and corner her alone.
She faced them with blood dripping down her face and a sharp sword in her hand.
He turned her most trusted retainer against her.
She relinquished her hold on her butler and sentenced him to death.
He had every detail carefully planned out. His execution was flawless. Everything went according to his plan. She wondered why he never rose above the rank of Major. To say that he loved war was an understatement; the Major was obsessed about it, hungered for it, and lusted for it.
She declared him a terrorist, and he laughed in glee.
His thousand vampires were perfectly capable of destroying England with her forces decimated; but no, he had to twist the knife in her gut. She had lifted the last restriction of her vampire and ordered him not to let anyone leave the island, leaving destruction in his wake.
She could hear her vampire and the Major's laughter in her ears.
After all this, he deserved nothing else, only her sword impaling him like a stuck pig. It was probably what he wanted, and for the first time, Integral was happy to indulge him.
Oh he would die alright.
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Integra, do you know what monster you should fear the most?
"…Vampires."
That's exactly right. We are the vampire's oldest enemy, Integra. Now, do you know why vampires are so fearsome? Vampires are full of weaknesses. They hate garlic. They hate the cross. Holy water will scald them. They cannot cross running water. They cannot face the sun or listen to the Scriptures, and most vampires can only move at night. The only place they can rest in peace is in a small, dark coffin. Even so, vampires are said to be invincible. Do you know why, Integra?
"Because they can control wolves and bats? They won't die unless you stab them with a stake? They can drink blood and create countless companions and servants?"
It is a much, much, much, much simpler thing.
"…Because they are strong?"
Exactly. Vampires are very powerful, Integra; super reflexes, amazing concentration, sixth sense, physical strength, special powers, stamina, ability to suck blood, transformation, immortality, etc, etc. But the most fearsome thing is their capacity for violence: strength. They can easily pull humans apart like an old dishrag.
The unfortunate thing is, vampires are conscious of their strength and they use that strength like a tyrant. Fighting in close combat with a vampire would mean a certain death. Understand, Integra? Vampires are intelligent demons that can suck blood. Can there be anything worse than that?
Is it because a certain vampire is stronger and more fearsome than most that you kept him, Father?
Oh, the greatest irony of them all.
A vampire-hunting organization and its most capable trashman: a master vampire in servitude under a female master.
It was the most curious and satisfying thing.
To be surrounded by blood and dead bodies ten years ago, only to be surrounded by it time and time again.
He had spared her from the pain of a bullet then. He spared her the pain of delivering an execution now.
He had kneeled to her, a girl sitting on a cell floor. He still kneeled to her, a woman standing in the city of the impaled.
He was a servant then. He was free now.
Nosferatu. No Life King. Dracula. The Impaler. Count. Alucard. Vlad Tepes.
A man who values power and strength; the monster who enjoys the sight of men being impaled, of women being disemboweled, of ill infants being burned to death, of old people being riddled with bullets; he who is a warmonger, and the messenger, the harbinger of death.
She had her fairytale alright: her knight in bloody armor; a knight who went into battle and killed in her name; a knight who brought her as presents the bodies of her dead enemies.
He had rescued her more than once, he gave her his services. Yet not once did he ask anything in return, save for more orders.
He never touched her. Was it because he respected her space or was it because he didn't like touching humans?
Countess. That was how he addressed her. He had told her before to watch him. He asked her whether she was turned on by the battle he fought for her.
Bloody bastard.
She reminded herself he was still a monster. Yes, a monster who killed because she wanted it. They both did: death to their enemies.
Integra, in this world there exists a multitude of inviolable monsters. Every time I see them, I think of something. Their immortal nature, could they have wished for it? for what they all seemed to seek is to wage war, and endless desperate blood-stained struggles; things quite close to crying and longing. I don't think they desire those things at all. On the contrary, all of this is their way of shouting and begging for death.
That man has lived on for many moons, devouring an even larger number of peoples' desires. There is nothing left for him anymore: a castle, a kingdom, or people to inhabit such, the heart of one he cares about…or even his own heart. From war to war, he erases everything in his sight, even during times of complete peace; a ghost walking, walking ever forward.
As for what I think about vampires, Integra, who must live ever on in their immortal bodies under one frightening night after another in the world of darkness, I pity them. They seem so pitiful. They are like frightened, frail children, crying and helpless on their knees.
Would he ask her to deliver his coup de grace? Would she be ready to do it? Was that the real reason he gave her Seras Victoria? Was she going to lose ALL of her men? Would she be willing to give him the rest that stayed away from him, which he himself also avoided for 600 long years?
She wondered about the future of England. If Germany managed to stand up from the holocaust that was World War I, would England be able to do so as well?
England had to. She herself had to. Sir Integral Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing had taken up the burdens of her fallen men that it would be improper to drop them halfway.
She was a lady after all.