"The Organization"
By: SniperWolf
DISCLAIMER: (See Chapter One)
Chapter Two: Welcome to Hellsing
Alex Cunard woke up slowly. Blinking back the light as it assaulted her eyes, she rubbed the back of her head, sitting up slowly. As the world came back into focus, she suddenly realized that much must have transpired while she was removed from the events of the world—for starters, she was no longer in that dank third-floor apartment, but in an ornate bedroom. She had been sleeping, not on her futon at home, but instead in a king-sized bed (ultra-plush by the feel of it, Cunard decided) under silk sheets. Her clothes had been hung up neatly and apparently ironed (Oh, won't the commissioner be happy!) during her stay and upon looking down she noticed she was clad in a silk robe with the letters "IH" carefully embroidered on the pocket. Running one hand through her thick hair, she reached over to the nightstand and picked up her glasses, placing them over her eyes once more. Though he would have been more than happy remaining in bed all day, now was a time for action. She was, after all, one of Scotland Yard's finest, and now it was time to prove it by driving a stake straight into the heart of the matter.
"Hopefully not literally," she muttered to herself. After the weirdness of the previous night or so, she wasn't quite ready for any more surprises—especially those pesky potentially-deadly ones.
As she began to put on her suit—which she was incredibly pleased to find freshly laundered—she heard a knock at the door.
"Uh, yeah, come in," the Inspector said, readjusting her sunglasses and putting her gun back in its holster at her hip.
The door opened to reveal an older man, maybe late sixties or early seventies, with graying black hair and dark eyes. He wore a monocle over his right eye, and was clad relatively formally.
"You're already awake, Inspector? Excellent," the man said politely. "I trust you had a pleasant night—well, true, you were unconscious…and believe me, we're all very sorry about that, really, it's just that one of our people occasionally…has a tendency to…overstep. We're just glad that Sir Hellsing had a spare robe lying around."
Cunard smiled amiably. "Not a problem. Better than I've slept in a long time, thank you, Mr.…ah…?"
"Walter Dornez," the man said, bowing slightly. "Hellsing family butler. A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Inspector Cunard."
"Hellsing?" Cunard asked, a quizzically expression crossing her features.
"Oh, I suppose that Sir Integra will explain it all to you," Walter said. "She's requesting your presence now, actually."
"Requesting?"
"Demanding," Walter conceded, and then opened the great oak door to its full extent, gesturing out into the hallway. "Now, if you would be so kind, Inspector Cunard?"
"Wait, can we just back up for one moment?" Cunard said, following the older man out into the hallway. "Uh, for starters, where am I?"
"Well," Walter said, leading Alex down a maze of hallways. "You're still in London, if that's what you mean. You're at Hellsing."
"Okay, uh, yeah—now what's a Hellsing?"
"I believe Sir Integra said that she would go into detail about that with you," Walter said quietly.
"There!" Cunard said, pointing. "You said it again?"
"Said what again?"
"Sir Integra!"
"Right."
"But you refer to Sir Integra as 'she'."
"Right."
"So then why is she 'Sir' Integra?"
"Did it ever occur to you that you're over thinking something that really doesn't matter?" Walter asked.
"Once or twice," Cunard said dismissively. "Now, anyhow, who is Sir Integra?"
Walter smiled, opening the door to a rather plain-looking office, with a desk facing the door. Seated there was a tall woman in a green uniform, with slightly darker skin than herself or Walter, and long almost white blonde hair. Her face was beautifully well-proportioned, and her features were possessed of the cold beauty that indelibly came of good breeding. Her best feature as by far her eyes—those ice-blue eyes that sent a chill straight down Alex Cunard's spine. Her face was sternly set as she looked up at the clock.
"The rather angry-looking blonde woman who keeps looking at the clock," Walter said, smiling a little.
"Ah," Cunard said. "I see. Thank you, Mr. Dornez."
"Walter, please," the butler said, smiling. Before Cunard could enter the room however, he added. "One final piece of advice, though—I'd keep that book on you. Might come in handy."
Her eyes widened, and Cunard turned on her heel, only to find that Walter had already gone. Puzzled for a moment, she then remembered the woman behind her and turned around to meet those disapproving eyes. "Good morning, Sir Hellsing…"
"You're late," Integra said coldly, scrutinizing her visitor carefully. "And remove your sunglasses, please."
"Must I?"
Integra did not respond, only looked at her with contempt, until Cunard pocketed the glasses and revealed her red eyes to her.
"Albinism?" the woman said, looking into Cunard's eyes.
"Correct, Sir Hellsing," Cunard said quietly. "Which is why I'd really prefer to have my glasses—"
"Have a seat, please," Integra said, sitting down behind her own desk, "Inspector Cunard."
Deciding it best not to press the issue, Alex took a seat opposite the Spartan desk. After a moment, Integra typed something in on the laptop sitting on the desk and waited. Throughout this the room remained uncomfortably silent. Alex remained silent, looking around the room as she waited, remembering everything important and attempting to siphon out everything that wasn't.
"So," Integra said, "how much did Walter tell you?"
"He told me that you'd tell me everything," Cunard said impatiently, standing once more and coming closer to Integra's desk. "Now listen, I understand that I'm supposed to be cooperating right now, but I'm a bit confused. See, I got knocked out by this asshole in a weird hat that probably saved my life last night and now I'm here. Except no one will tell me where the fuck 'here' is. And I'm really not sure how I got here either. And everybody says that 'Sir Integra's going to tell me'—but no one will tell me who this Sir Integra is and why the hell she's so damn important. I'm trapped in a fucking game of Clue, apparently. So, I'm really sorry I fucked up your sting operation or whatever it was that you people were doing, and it won't happen again. So please, either get me my union representative, or let Colonel Mustard beat my brains in with the candlestick in the billiard room and get it over with already!"
Integra said nothing, just continued to bore into her with those icy eyes. "Are you quite finished, Inspector?"
"Err, yeah. I think I'm good now," Cunard said, nodding.
"Inspector Cunard," Integra said, looking at the screen of the laptop. "It states here that you're an American citizen, born in Massachusetts."
"Yeah, that's right. I am—was—sort of—it's complicated," Cunard said finally. "I'm a citizen of Great Britain now, and I have been for a couple of years."
"And a former U.S. Marine as well, stationed in the embassy in Germany?"
"Yeah, that's true."
"You were an intelligence specialist during your tour of duty?"
"Bingo," Cunard said.
"And you've been with Scotland Yard for…?"
"Three years. Youngest inspector in decades, Sir Hellsing," Cunard said with a hint of pride in her voice. "And one of the most highly decorated at the Yard."
"And yet you've never risen past 'inspector'?" Integra said, raising one eyebrow.
"Let's just say that leadership potential isn't my strong suit, Sir Hellsing."
"Really?" Integra said dismissively, her tone slightly sardonic. "And here I was convinced that holding your tongue wasn't your strong suit. Do you actually have a 'strong suit', Inspector?"
"Of course I have a strong suit," Cunard said, smirking. "I took it to the dry cleaners yesterday, Sir Hellsing."
Integra continued on as if she didn't hear the other woman's flippant comment. "How about communicable diseases?"
"How about them?" Cunard said, nodding.
"Do you have any? Have you been exposed to any?" Integra said, her tone similar to one she might have used if speaking to a child.
"No."
"Do you have a criminal record, Inspector Cunard?" Integra said, reaching into her desk drawer for a cigar, and lighting it with a silver lighter on her desk.
"No," Cunard said, taking her cigarettes out of her pocket. "But I have every album Billy Joel ever released, if you count that."
Integra smirked. "How very droll, Inspector Cunard."
"I like to think so. Say, Sir Hellsing, do you mind if I…" Cunard asked, gesturing to her cigarettes.
"Yes, I do mind," Integra said sharply, glaring at the detective. "You've been very calm, considering everything that's gone on."
"Yeah, well, that's me. The unflappable, unsinkable Inspector Cunard," Alex said wittily, putting her cigarettes away and gritting her teeth a little. "You wouldn't mind actually telling me what's going on, would you, Sir Hellsing?"
"You acted very rashly last night, Inspector," Integra said, taking a long draw on her cigar. "And it cost you everything, though you clearly haven't realized it yet. You've already been transferred under the Hellsing Organization's control."
"What…but I…" Cunard began, confused. "What did it cost me? I saved that woman, didn't I? She lived, right?"
"In a manner of speaking," Integra said. "Tell me; are you a virgin, Inspector?"
"Am I a—"Cunard said, a little taken aback.
"Are you a virgin, Inspector Cunard? Have you ever had sexual intercourse with another human being? Don't lie, because I'll know."
"How could you?"
"I will," Integra said coldly.
"Is anyone a virgin, nowadays?" Cunard asked, raising one eyebrow.
"So have you realized what it cost you yet?" Integra asked, resettling her spectacles on her nose.
"My dignity and any right to privacy I had concerning my sex life—or rather, lack thereof?" Cunard said dryly.
"During your daring one-woman raid on the victim's apartment, did her attacker happen to—graze you with his teeth at all? Perhaps bite you by accident?"
"Not that I…" Cunard suddenly felt a spot on her neck where whoever had tended to her had bandaged, and then her hand slipped down to her mouth, where she suddenly noticed that her incisors were sharper than they used to be. "Oh, shit."
Integra nodded. "An accurate assessment. The Hellsing Organization has been, for centuries, in charge of taking care of such vampiric freaks and cosigning them back to oblivion for the preservation of God, Queen and country. You happened to get in the way, and now—well, we had two options. We could have killed you right then and there, but that might have been counterproductive. And letting you go might have proven unwise. Considering your background, however…Alucard knocked you out because we feared that if you were able to comprehend what was going on, you would have made quite a fuss. Some people just can't understand when something doesn't quite seem to have a rational conclusion…"
"Uh, okay, listen," Cunard said. "How much did Peter give you to do this? Because really, I'm impressed. Is there a…camera somewhere? Is he…Walter, is he that guy…you know, from the hidden camera show? Bald, kind of chubby, and really annoying?"
"Does he look bald, fat, and annoying?"
"Okay, look," Cunard said, standing up and heading for the door. "I've…I've really enjoyed being a part of your therapy here, but I think its best that I just leave now…"
"If you leave now," Integra said, her voice deadpan cold. "You will not leave this building before someone puts a silver bullet in your head."
"I'll risk it."
"Don't be stupid. You don't know how to handle this," Integra said coldly. "You will either starve to death or you'll go absolutely bloodcrazed and won't know how to handle it. You'll hurt innocent people, and we both know that you don't want that. I am at least offering you a way out of all that—no one else can guarantee you that."
"Scotland Yard—"
"—already thinks that you're dead," Integra finished. "Which we both know isn't exactly a lie."
Alex looked down at the expensive carpet, her hands balled into fists. As much as she hated to admit it, the smirking blonde bitch had a point. Watching her with a hint of interest in her eyes, Integra smirked as she said, "Well, Inspector Cunard?"
Alex didn't reply.
"Excellent. Now, if you'll be so kind as to head down to the basement level, I believe Walter already has your room set up, Inspector. It's also probably time that you met our other resident freaks and we put you through some basic field training. The sooner we start, the better off you'll be."
Alex smirked, but conceded her defeat. No longer was this about pride—it was about survival. "Yes, Sir Hellsing."
"Excellent. Welcome to Hellsing, Inspector Cunard."