Chapter One

"Myers, Jeremy!"

Deep underground on the coast of France, there were the remnants of a train system. It was considered abandoned, but recently, the Hellsing organization had begun restoring it. It provided a useful way to secretly move troops, supplies, and on occasion, new recruits to headquarters. At present, interviews were being held for the latest rookies.

Jeremy Myers got up form his uncomfortable plastic seat, gave the rusted metal around him an arrogant once-over, and swaggered into the next cabin.

"You Jeremy Myers?"

"Yeah, what of it?" He asked. The man interviewing was dressed in a Hellsing uniform, wearing a hat and eye patch, and possessed a long orange braid wrapped round his head like a scarf. He looked more like a bandit than a vampire hunter, and Jeremy felt that this interview was but a formality. Hellsing needed men like himself, not these riffraff.

"Sit down. I'm Captain Bernadette of the Wild Geese. We're mercenaries who've worked for Hellsing for almost four years. It's my job to find out whether you've got the guts and skills necessary to be more than canon fodder. So let's begin, Mr. Myers."

Jeremy sat down, wincing at another green plastic chair, and waited.

"Alright. What skills do you have?"

"I'm a good shot, a strong leader, and I can use a mace." He said, proudly playing with his long brown bangs. He thought they made him look dashing.

"Good shot? What's your percentage?"

"Eighty-nine percent. Better than most Hellsing troops, I'll bet."

"You'll have to go through a shooting course. We usually want ninety-five for a soldier who relies on his gun. What about your mace?"

"I've defeated plenty of opponents better armed and stronger with it."

"Ever fought a vampire?"

"No, of course not."

"Ever seen one?"

"No."

"Why do you want to join Hellsing, then? You've got a grudge against a vampire, maybe your family was one of the Fallen?"

Jeremy was outraged. He stood up, towering about the Captain's head, and roared.

"What's it to you? How dare you call me a Fallen!"

"So you have no motivation...glory and power, eh? Boss-Lady isn't going to like that..."

"Boss-Lady? Your leader is a woman?"

Bernadette gave him a sharp look. "What do you have against women?"

"The weaker sex should be kept from unpleasantness."

"Weaker sex?"

"They don't send men for tribute."

"That's because female vampiresses are a dying breed. Nothing to do with weaker or stronger. I'm sorry, but if that's the way you feel, I'm afraid you'll never last in Hellsing."

"Why the hell not?"

"Because our second-in-command is a woman, and she'd make mincemeat out of you. We just can't afford to clean up your dead body."

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Two days later, the six news recruits off of the Delta Train Route, accompanied by Pip Bernadette, arrived at Hellsing HQ. It was a large, underground building set into a secluded nook of the coastline. The tides and waves kept it from discovery by sea; the constant sunshine kept it from discovery by land. The Headquarters was located on the French coast.

Among these six was, surprisingly, Jeremy Myers. He'd been accepted despite rejection from both Bernadette and the second-in-command; Lord Hellsing had approved him on the basis of his family's power. Jeremy was gloating openly about this, and Bernadette was certain he would either die in battle or be completely ostracized by his own comrades; such arrogance was not going to foster goodwill towards him.

The two women and four men were led into the facility for their tour early in the morning. Their exhaustion dissipated at the hustle and bustle of the enormous room they'd entered. It was wide, long, and well-lit, with a bar where food was served on one side and room with a connecting glass wall where people were going in and out, getting what looked to be papers. In the center, there were a number of rectangular tables and a raised platform with a microphone.

"Alright, this is the main hall. We eat here, we get our mail over there behind the glass, you meet people here, and you socialize here. When you're not trying to sleep or getting killed, that is." Pip paused to let the six absorb this. He motioned to one corner, where a tall, well-built man dressed as a priest was discoursing to several others dressed in uniform.

"The pries over there is Father Anderson. He's preparing them for a supply run later on. Don't get in his way; he's a regenerator, he's stronger than all six of you combined. He teaches some of the training courses you'll be required to complete starting tomorrow."

"I thought Iscariot and Hellsing didn't get along." One of the women pointed out.

"He's a defector. Joined up with us twenty years or so ago."

They went through a pair of double doors set in the opposite side of the hall and found themselves in a round corridor, with doors on all sides. They were labeled, and to the left there was a grand staircase, richly carpeted with gleaming banisters.

"Library, labs, hospital, training area, exit to soldier's barracks and outdoor training fields. Surface exit," Pip pointed to the corresponding door as he identified the different rooms, "and personal quarters for the bosses. Don't go up there unless they call you."

"Why are our quarters outside?" Jeremy demanded. "Don't the officers, at least, get rooms up there?"

"Nope. Only the boss and the boss's bodyguards up there."

"Unfair."

"Deal with it. You're here to fight vampires, remember? Soon you'll be grateful just to have a place to pretend to sleep."

The training areas were filled with people, even at this time of day; everything from practice raids to fencing matches were going on in there. The sounds of metal clashing, bullets hitting targets, and screaming created a cacophony that would have made anyone's ears hurt.

In particular, there was a lot of yelling going on around the fencing match; a crowd had gathered and was cheering and booing as the two figures-one with long, white-blonde hair and a suit, the other with a buzz-cut and a uniform-fought viciously. Within minutes, the match was over, the buzz-cur guy flat on his back with a saber-point at his throat.

"Hey! Boss-Lady!" Pip yelled, and the blonde victor looked up, pulling off her mask. Underneath, she was stern-faced and darker-skinned than her hair color would have suggested.

"You've brought in the new recruits, Captain? Let me see them."

Nervously, the six were led into the hallway to face the woman.

"I am Sir Integral Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing, second-in-command of Hellsing and Knight of Fernwood." That raised heads-Fernwood was the codename for the secret government still ruling humanity after the takeover by vampirekind. Knights of Fernwood were powerful people, and were usually heads of organizations rather than seconds.

"Uppity little slut." Jeremy muttered under his breath, throwing Integra's less than feminine attire a sharp look. Integra raised an eyebrow, and than swiftly kicked his feet out from under him.

"I could care less if you like me, Mr. Myers, but you will respect me or be discharged from this organization." She snapped. "I have no patience for fools, especially expendable ones."

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The current head of Hellsing wasn't working, as might be expected. Instead, he was reclining in his private sitting room, drinking some very expensive wines and reading a contract. This was no ordinary contract; the paper was made from shadow, and the ink was blood. It was a contract Richard Hellsing had gone to great lengths to obtain secretly, and was now hesitant to sign.

Not out of mercy or guilt for the carnage that would result, but for his own hide. He had no way of enforcing this contract but faith in the dark magic that had made it possible. And that magic had already failed the Hellsing family once.

Still, the temptation was too much, and Richard was a greedy man, as he had been since the day he was born. He signed with a flourish, and rolled up the pitch black sheet.

Glancing around, he made sure there was no one watching. Then he climbed onto the table, opened a trapdoor in the ceiling and shoved the paper through. A bat would be there to retrieve it at sunset.

Wiping the sweat from his brow, the coward knelt down and began to pray in vain.

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Integral knew a lot about the basement. It was sealed off from most of the inhabitants, but she knew a few tricks that had allowed her to use some of the rooms to do research. Grand, bold, fearsome research that her ancestors had once carried out. Despite it being forbidden by her uncle, Integra pressed on. She had little respect for the man, for he was less than competent at his job. The men all prayed that he would die soon so his niece could take power.

But today, she wasn't working on her usual project. No, this was something new. She laid upon the table a twisted piece of metal- a thick rod waited to be used in the construction of a train track. The end was smashed, flattened in the shape of fingers, as though someone had gripped it impossibly tight.

"The effects of the Iscariot incident are finally taking effect." She whispered into the recorder, then picked up the ruined steel and bending it. She felt no more effort than it took to move her hands through the air, yet the end of the rod met. "Increased strength, and improved reflexes as well as the primary symptom have occurred."

Laying the twisted bar down, she turned her attention to a pile of black fabric. It was specially made black-out cloth, designed to create total darkness, and strong enough to resist the sharp edge of a knife. She'd had this bodice and pair of gloves specially made with cut-outs and zippers for easy access to her skin. No one would notice if she changed her gloves, except perhaps Walter. No doubt she would need a suitable excuse.

Frowning, she looked down at her bare fingers, faintly glowing gold. Handy if she was down in a dark basement, but they would attract too much attention, hence the black-out gloves. The sparking only occurred when she got upset or distressed, although she suspected being overly happy might also cause it.

Her, overly happy. The thought made her laugh bitterly.

The sound of footsteps on the floor above reminded her of her limited time. She was expected to greet Anderson and his raiders when they returned.

She changed into her new, black-out fabric clothes, and slipped back up the staircase.

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"Sir Hellsing?" Walter caught up with her as she was heading into the front hall. "Lord Hellsing wants you in his office."

"I'll go after I get the report form Anderson. Those inventories need to be submitted to Fernwood tomorrow."

"I would advise having those reports brought to you and going now, sir. It's very important."

"Alright then. Bring some tea up, and inform Anderson to meet me in my office in half an hour."

Less than five minutes later, she was seated in front of her uncle's desk. The office was lushly decorated, a stark contrast to her Spartan workspace. Even the frames on the walls were gilded.

"You wanted to speak to me." It wasn't a question.

"Yes, I want to discuss a very important mission with you. Have you heard of Codename: Mina?"

"Yes, of course. It's the infiltration plan."

Richard leaned forward. He knew it might take some convincing. "Now is the perfect time to implement it, Integra. The vampires are preparing their millennial celebration, and they'll all be gathered on Capital Isle. There is even the chance that he will be there."

"And you think I should be the one."

"You're the best trained woman...and the only virgin. We won't be able to communicate with the person inside. The person inside has to survive or the plan won't work."

"Obviously. Uncle, this is not a time when we can spare anyone. We're understaffed as it is."

"Integral, this will never come again. We need more information than we have, and being able to attack the Millennium celebration would be a blow for humanity unlike anything in the history of vampire rule. This could be a turning pint of history. Integral, Hellsing needs you to do this."

"I..." Integra sighed. She knew she was going to agree, had known it the moment he'd mentioned it. He was right, surprisingly enough: Hellsing and the world needed to take an active stance and sneaking her in as tribute was the best way. "When do we begin?"

Inwardly, Richard let out a relieved sigh. Step one was a success. "There's a family with a daughter who's recently died. The death has gone unreported as of now. You'll be taking her place."

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Well, what do you all think? The readers in this section are freaking stingy with their reviews...

Hopefully, Alucard in the next chapter and Sera in the third.

This has been chickentyrant5.