A/N: WHOO!! A REVIEW! THANKIES!

Chapter One Re-cap:

Dark grinned and vanished from her spot next to Anderson. With his permission she began to get ready for the next mission. And this time, she wouldn't be wearing those stupid robes. She'd be in full regalia, ready for nearly anything as long as she could get a good drink in. The thought gladdened her heart. Her undead, rotting, heart.

X-NoTmYmAsTeR-X

Chapter Two:

Stole the Queen From Her Bed

An hour or so later (Dark couldn't tell…she had a horrendous sense of time and timing) herself and Father Anderson were off. Dark slept most of the way to goodness knows where the Vatican was dragging her this time. All she really cared about was the fact that she was comfortably dressed for once. No robes, no stupid rosaries. No, now Dark was wearing clothing that enabled her to fight to the fullest. And she was armed to the teeth. Quite literally. It would be useless to count all the weapons Dark was armed with, for she had the uncanny ability to find weapons where others would see none. Nearly everything could be made into a weapon, if one only knew how to wield it. That's what made Dark truly dangerous.

For the moment, Dark sat, brooding in the darkest corner of an airplane, far away from her fledgling and as far away from the Scotsman as she could physically manage. She did not approve of being named his partner. And by partner, the Vatican really meant slave. He had been given control of her seals, and therefore could cause her intense pain whenever he wished.

Which really, really, sucked.

But there was one upside to traveling, by night, on one of the Vatican's own planes. See, the Vatican was the type of organization that would keep it's own in the dark about the innermost workings. Which meant, in very plain English, that Dark's existence was a well-guarded secret. Very few outside Iscariot knew of her existence, and once you actually got to someone who knew of Dark, they wouldn't be privileged enough to know exactly where she was being kept, nor where her fledgling was, nor anything actually important about her. Which mean that the little frightened air steward knew nothing of her. And because Anderson was preoccupied with incessantly quoting bible verses under his breath in preparation for battle, Dark could play a bit. She waved the man over, her eyes going from violet to red behind the black shades she wore.

The man came, hesitatingly. Dark understood why. She was dressed like something out of a history book and didn't look like she was someone who said "please" nor "thank you". Her entire outfit was dated to something back around the colonial era. Her jacket was loose and hung about her knees, her shirt had a slight ruffle that poofed out at the collar, spilling over the tight black vest she wore. Her boots reached nearly to her knees and her pants hung loosely over them. Every article of her clothing was dirty in some way. Her coat's edges were tattered and browned from being out in the elements and there was a distinct smell of blood and salt that hung about in the air around her.

She was lounged quite comfortably, slouching in her seat so far as to be able to rest her legs on the seat across the aisle from her. The man stopped when he got near her, bowing and muttering a hello. The chick in front of him obviously freaked him out. Dark lifted an eyebrow and her gaze slid over to Anderson, who wasn't looking her way in the slightest. Excellent. Dark reached up with a gloved hand and scooted her shades down a bit, revealing her eerily colored eyes. The man immediately stared into her eyes and with a slight exertion of power, Dark took control of his mind and spoke lowly, but politely.

"I'd like some red wine please. An older vintage would be nice, but whatever you have on hand is fine."

What she told him to do through her control over his mind was similar, but at the same time completely different. Dark wanted blood, and she aimed to have him bring it to her. And it'd be warm, fresh blood. A whole glassful. With that, Dark pushed her shades back up the bridge of her nose. The man bowed again and robotically walked to the steward's cabin-thing and did Dark's dastardly bidding. The woman in question grinned rather manically as her eyes followed the man as he left. She sat up in her chair and reached down to grab her hat. Every vampire worth his or her age knew that keeping the sun out of their eyes was of utmost importance. Hers was dated, along with her clothing. A tri-cornered hat, the color of weathered black leather. She ran her fingers along the edges, her mouth twisting into a frown when she saw that those who had kept her clothing "safe" had neglected to keep the hat from being squished and by doing so, caused the feather stuck into her hat to break.

Frowning fully, Dark pulled the broken feather out of her hat with a short tug. She twirled the brown and white feather deftly between her fingers, watching it carefully. The steward came back a moment later, his eyes slowly returning to their natural color. He presented her with a silver platter, covered with a white cloth. But the delicious smell that emanated from the single wine glass that sat upon the tray was what Dark's gaze fixated on. She reached forward, her black gloved hand meeting the cold glass of the wine glass and gently lifted. Behind the shades, Dark's eyes turned a deep crimson as she lifted the glass to her lips. But before she could take a sip, she noted that the steward's hand was bleeding. She set her glass down and motioned him over again, her face breaking into a grin.

"You seem to have cut yourself, would you mind if I take a look at your injury? I'm a doctor and I just want to make sure that there is nothing embedded in your wound that could end up giving you a nasty infection."

The steward swallowed visibly, unsure of what to do, but came closer and held his hand out. There was a sizeable gash along his thumb-something that could have easily happened while cutting something up or open. Dark dipped her head down to the wound and inhaled deeply, the sweet smell of his blood filling her nostrils. She was hard pressed not to take the steward right then and suck him dry, but the reminder that Father Anderson was still about kept her from doing so. Twisting the man's hand deftly in hers, Dark shielded both her face and his hand from Anderson's gaze before reaching out with her tongue to lap up blood still leaking from the wound. The man yanked his hand away faster than you could say "Vampire" and scurried away from a now-chuckling Dark.

She picked her glass up again and swirled it expertly, watching the red liquid in it form a mini vortex at her command. Beautiful.

Absolutely beautiful.

Dark grinned and downed the entire glass in one go, the still-warn liquid filling her dead cells with new energy. It was a fair start, but she needed more. So much more. Dark sighed and leaned back in her seat, her eyes closing from behind her shades. This could end up being quite enjoyable. She should pull that particular trick more often.

"Father…" Dark said suddenly, turning her head towards the priest.

He looked up, surprised that Dark had spoken. She wasn't a chatty one.

"Why did you choose tonight, of all nights? Why tonight do you choose to finally reveal me to the Hellsing organization? Why this night of the full moon must you see it fit to finally show your hand?"

Dark nudged her sunglasses down to stare the green-eyed father in the face.

"You do realize the significance of this very day, do you not? Or did Maxwell not see it fit to tell you…"

Dark grinned and removed her glasses completely. For a moment, she chose to loose herself in her memories. They were browned from age, but still crystal sharp and exact. Dark never forgot anything. Especially about a day as important as this one. She had really only just remembered-the blood had jogged her memory and added a new level of awareness that she had been missing for quite some time.

"Today…"

The world around her faded to sepia-colored tones as Dark truly lost herself to her memories. The airplane's interior was replaced with the interior of a captain's cabin and Dark herself changed a small bit. Instead of her hair hanging loosely about her face as it did now, it was pulled back with a black ribbon tied into a bow. She stood on shaking knees as her door was forced open. In her hand she held a sword, and in her other hand her grasp was wrapped about a blunderbuss. One without ammunition. Not an optimal situation. Through the door stomped a man drenched in blood. Blood she knew to be her crew's. She was captain, yes, but her crew had seen too lock her away when they had been boarded not a half candle mark before. She was their Queen, and they cherished her like the most rare of jewels. Dark's knees stopped shaking as the man drew closer to her. Her eyes were fixed on the floor as the man drew closer still.

And closer and he'd be able to touch her. Dark slashed out with her sword, scoring a line of blood across the man's face. He recoiled, brining his hand up to touch the thin line of blood that dribbled down his face. Dark darted past him, with every intent of escaping through her door and flinging herself overboard in order to escape the eerie man, but the moment she opened the door, she stopped dead in her tracks. There, in front of her stood her crew, animated and seemingly alive. Dark's face broke out into a smile as she moved forward to greet them. But her crew didn't move to greet her. The rushed forward and tried to attack. Tried being the operative word there.

Mutiny was not something Dark was unused to, she just didn't expect it from her crew. She backpedaled furiously, her back bumping into the red-eyed man who had taken control of her crew. His arms snaked around her waist and his hands forced her head up and to the side, exposing her pale neck. Her pulse jumped rapidly beneath her skin, and the man breathed out, his foul breath running across her skin. He twisted her head again, forcing Dark to look at her shuffling crew. He spoke, the words in a language Dark refused to comprehend anymore, and tilted her head off to the side once again.

He had pinned her arms to her side, making her weapons useless and keeping her from striking back at him. She struggled, trying to wrench herself free from then man's lecherous embrace as she had done many times before, but nothing worked on him. His grip only tightened around her slim frame, threatening to crush her bones as easily as one would crush a bug underfoot. Dark closed her eyes and breathed out, going limp all at once, her body sliding from the man's grip as she crumpled to the floor. Surprised, the man remained frozen for a moment, looking down at his now-empty arms before getting the butt of Dark's blunderbuss crushed into the side of his head. The force of her blow surprised even Dark herself and she dropped the empty gun. The sound of it clattering to the floor marked her crew's next rush to overtake her.

Eye's narrowed dangerously and now the color of chips of glaciers, Dark lashed out with her sword. She was not going to die here. No way. Shining silver sliced through the bodies of her crew. She mourned their loss as she cut them down, her emotions making salt water leak from the corners of her eyes and fall down her face. Even as her crewmates fell, it seemed that more kept coming, some crawling towards her even after various limbs had been hacked from their body. Dark panicked, swinging her sword faster and faster, frantically trying to get them away from her. Behind the falling bodies, Dark could clearly see the glowing red eyes of the strange man who had attacked her ship. He was grinning, and Dark could clearly see the canine-like fangs that adorned his mouth. She blanched and her sword arm dropped to her side for a moment.

She was tackled and pinned to the ground, rough fingers grabbing at her and bruising her flesh. Dark didn't scream but tried to bat them away, even as her coat was ripped off, even as her vest was torn away from her skin, even as claw-like fingers tried to remove her shirt. Then finally, they stopped. They backed away as the man came close. As Dark searched the faces of her crewmates for someone to rescue her, she finally noticed that they too, had blood-red eyes. She would get no help. Dark crawled backwards, one hand trying to keep her shirt closed, the other holding her sword out towards the man. Her arm was shaking, but her eyes remained cold and hard. If she was going to die, she was going to go out swinging. The man drew closer and knelt in front of Dark, his grin wide and evil. He yanked her sword away from her, grabbing it by the blade and tossing it away. Dark gaped at him, for the wounds she had inflicted upon him were gone, healed completely in an incredibly short amount of time. He reached out and latched onto her arm and yanked her closer, practically underneath him. The edges of her shirt rolled upwards as she brought both of her hands up and over her head, revealing dual brands on the fleshy joint of her elbows. A large "P" on both of her arms marked her as pirate, and the fact that she had been branded twice meant that she had escaped the gallows more than once and was to be put to death on the spot. Dark winced as the man's grip tightened on her wrists, and struggled again, her shirt flying open as she did so.

He spoke, and whatever color was in Dark's face drained away. He pinned her hands down with only one of his hands and once again, tilted her head off to the side. There was to be no escape for Dark this time, and as his mouth drew closer and closer to the pulse point in her neck, Dark closed her eyes and sent a prayer up to whoever would listen, hoping that her death would be as quick and painless as possible.

Crimson eyes flew open and Dark stood. With one fluid movement placed her tri-cornered hat atop her head. She brought her left hand's fingers to her chest and let the rest atop her sternum, nestled in the valley of her breasts. She looked down upon the Scotsman, her posture assertive and her gaze steeled. Back ramrod straight, and chin raised haughtily into the air, Dark looked the picture of a long-lost leader of a gang of ruffians, which was very near the truth.

"…is the day I died."

Dark's face twisted into a sneer of utmost hatred and loathing. She relaxed her pose but continued to glare down at the Paladin. He didn't look all that impressed, but his breath was making a cloud of steam that hovered about his face. Dark's dangerous mood had lowered the temperature to something a bit below comfortable to most humans. She personally, didn't mind all that much. She didn't really feel all that much when the weather changed, except for a nagging creak in her left hand. Age did have some drawbacks, even for vampires, she supposed. But she didn't know for sure. Most of her vampire acquaintances (for you couldn't truly call any of them friends) had long since gone into the deep slumber from which no one woke up. Dark was alone, save for her fledgling. The air returned to normal temperature as the burning in Dark's hands started up.

She sat, arranging her coat in the chair artistically before turning herself and the chair so she could stare out the window. Bright lights lit up the earth beneath the plane, and her undead stomach lurched up into her mouth as the plane descended. Dark had forgotten how much she hated flying, but at least this time she was a passenger, and not stuck in a coffin down in the cargo bay. She hated the cargo bay more than she hated airplanes.

Anderson was still quiet, but his green eyes were firmly fixed on the female Nosferatu in front of him. She was an odd one, for sure.

"What exactly are we doing in London?" Dark asked suddenly, peering out the window, and searching the grounds below her.

"Eradicatin' heathen Protestants an' their mongrel of a mostarh on their own turf. Maxwell has given the orders tae attack. And we shall, o' this verah night, wipe from the face o' this fine earth the Hellsing Organization," Anderson said lowly, his fingers twitching ever so slightly.

"So, what exactly is our game plan then, Father? Bust in the front door's and declare a presence to the whole of the Organization, then go on a killing spree until we kill both Integra and Lord Alucard?"

Anderson looked up, eyes wide in surprise. Dark had refused to refer to anyone as "Lord" or "Master", but she just had while referencing the heathen's attack dog. Dark looked at him just before she finished putting her glasses back on, and grinned, flashing her vampiric fangs.

"What?"

After Anderson explained exactly what was going to happen, the rest of the flight was silent. The rest of the flight wasn't all that long, but the silence was deafening. Anderson was getting ready for battle, and Dark was just plain getting ready. This night was not going to go well for her. Alucard was not a being with which one trifled, especially not on his own turf, and especially not when his master could be endangered. And she was far weaker than she should be when taking on such a challenge. She needed more blood. Rubbing her temples Dark stood as the plane slowed to a halt, her coat swishing outwards behind her.

Oh, well.

Tonight was as good a night as any to die.

All the more honor for losing to a being that far outclassed her.

She followed dully behind Anderson as they made their way through the late-night London streets. He knew where he was going, and Dark wasn't going to bother trying to care. If the mission went well, she'd be following Anderson out of there. If it went as she thought it would go, then she wasn't going to leave alive. Which was probably what the Vatican wanted anyway.

A thought struck the vampiress at that very moment. She had, if she remembered correctly invoked the right of parley when the Vatican had first captured her. Sure, it was a pirate thing, but still…those things were not without their own brand of magic.

If she could only get Anderson to break his word to her about anything he had said directly to her, then she'd be free. Jackie'd be in a wee spot of trouble, but Dark had trained the girl well. She'd be fine. So. That'd be her game plan then. Just get Anderson to break his word to her and she'd be off scot-free. Oops, a pun. A wickedly awful pun. But funny nonetheless, no? Oh ho ho, this night would be fun indeed.