Chapter Three: The Faces Within a Crowd

BaDOM…

BaDOM…

BabaDOM…

A loud clobbering rung through the grimy, unlit, and utterly miserable jail cells, making the tenants of the age riddled cages cower against one another in fear. With each crash of the crowbar that the terrified humans just knew was being dragged across bar after bar of the jail's cells, the humans grasped onto those around them, trying to seek comfort from the dozen other souls that had been crammed into their cage. They all collectively stopped breathing, as if that would help them hide from the searching eyes that glowed a faint crimson in the pure darkness. Their hearts hammered against their chests, trying their damned best to break free and run away from this hellish nightmare of gore and screams.

They all knew what the sound meant. They all knew what the pause between each beating of the crowbar meant for their fates. It meant that The Being was selecting its nightly meal. Which one? The shrill sound of metal on metal seemed to shriek as a door was unlocked and slowly swung open. Who shall perish tonight? Asked the light footfalls that made the humans huddle into the corner, fear rolling off of them in delectable, delicious waves. Oh, how The Being reveled in their fear.

The humans heard a deep humming as the two crimson eyes seemed to sway in the darkness as The Being began rocking back and forth, biting its knuckle when all of the possibilities left it absolutely indecisive. Instead of drawing blood, a human, one closer to the monster, let out a cry of true terror as shadows seeped out of the light graze that its teeth had left on its knuckle.

Suddenly The Being stopped altogether; instead of swaying, it stood absolutely still, eyes trained on the human who had dared disturb its thoughts; instead of humming, silence crept its way back into the cramped cell and seemed to weigh upon each human who, oh-so selfishly, was fearing for his own life. The Being crouched down, coming to eye-level with the rude, noisy human.

It cocked its head, the motion clearly saying: And just who the hell do you think you are?

Tears filled the human's- a young man, barely over the age of 18- eyes as The Being loomed closer. From out of the manifested shadows that came together to form the body of The Being, came a long, sickly pink thing from where its head should be. It seemed to run over its lips as it narrowed its eyes as its newly found prey. As much as The Being enjoyed the thrill of the hunt, the potent aroma of pure, unhindered horror was like the human equivalent of heroin and cocaine mixed together with a dash of crack sprinkled in.

The Being trembled with barely restrained glee as he basked in the fear. It let the oh-so human sensation wash over it and leave it quivering in absolute pleasure. Perhaps, to a human, it could be equated to sex. Perhaps, to a human, it could be paralleled with the sensation of drinking water after walking 40 days in a desert wasteland. Perhaps, to a human, the power that soared through its veins and rejuvenated it could be said to be the same adrenaline fueled sensation as when one escapes by the hairs on his neck from a near death experience. But it would never know, it was far too greedy to take the time and ask. It was always too eager to consume a life; to devour a human's very essence. The act of carving out a human's soul from their mortal body and leaving it a hollowed out husk of its former self left The Being just… just salivating at the mere thought.

The young man, through the wisps of shadows that seemed to weave themselves through one another to form the body before him, could see the insatiable hunger that stared him down, all too ready to try and quench it's never ending thirst by gobbling him up. The young man quivered, the tears quickly turning to sobs as he fell to his knees, his hands clasped over his head as he pressed his cheek into the grimy stones of the jail cell's floor. He began pleading for mercy, for forgiveness, for a quick death- for anything. And, as the young man felt God turn a blind eye from the pure monstrosity and abomination that towered over him, he began pulling and tugging at his matted hair.

The young man's fear had reached its climax as he tore tuffs of his hair out in insanity that was fueled by desperation and terror. The rest of the humans, who cowered in the corner and couldn't help but watch in morbid fascination, had seen many others go mad at the feet of The Being. The brink of death was before them and, when threatened with the final push that would send one tumbling down into the fiery depths of Hell, many would fall under lunacy as horror pumped through their veins and the fact that escape was impossible crushed them underfoot.

Suddenly The Being threw its head back and let out a high, cackling screech of a laugh that grated against the humans' fear and made them cry out in pain. The young man at its feet kicked out wildly, his arms flailing as he tried in vain to grasp onto anything- anything at all- that could save him. He screamed for someone to save him, he shrieked at the other human's in the corner who did nothing but watch; he cursed and damned the creature above him for its vile, cruel ways.

"Oh," The Being asked, cocking its head inquisitively as its laughter echoed through the cell and the chambers that lead to only more and more cells filled to the brim with encaged humans. "Are you damming me to Hell, little boy? Oh, really?"

The only answer it got was a spat curse and a tuft of hair throw at its feet.

"Well, you see," it enunciated its words slowly, bending over at the waist to properly examine the crazed young man. "One cannot damn another to their home, now can they?"

The young man's eyes widened, his hands pausing in their tearing.

"Yes, little boy. Hell is real. It is very, very real. And, as it just so happens…" A flash of sharpened teeth, rows upon rows of them, glinted in the limited light provided by the waxing moon that shone in through the opened cell door. "… that it has a vacancy. Now, and I'm not sure about you." It leaned in towards the young man, clearing the space between them. The young man gasped and gagged, clutching his throat as the shadows seemed to suck all the air from his lungs. "I'm never one to pass up on such a blessing experience."


"… 'ank you all fer comin' tonight! We'll be back next Saturday! Goodnigh', Bristol!"

The heavyset man with deep, dark wrinkles etched into his features waved towards the crowded pub before slipping off the lanyard his saxophone was attached to. His band mates did similar things and leapt off, or in the case of a few more portly members who rather tumbled off more than anything, the raised stage and went their separate ways to mingle with the crowd. The tall, dark-skinned saxophone player brushed past a young blond woman's table on his way towards the bar. He apologized in passing as his bum knocked against the woman's table, spilling her watered down beer. The young woman muttered a curse or two under her breath as she began dabbing at the beer with the hem of her cardigan.

Of course, the young woman thought bitterly as she gingerly picked up the old book that had been opened before her. It just had to get all over it. Miss Wetherspoon is going to kill me… With a spoon, no doubt. She'll find a way.

"Tsk, tsk. What's this? Wittle Wester decided to take a dip in her beer with her book? How ridiculous, the poor thing."

Seras Victoria's gaze flickered up at the voice. 'Wittle Wester' was a nickname given to Seras- well, Nikola- a few days ago and instantly became synonyms with her name. Well, with Nikola's name.

"Need a napkin, Wittle Wester?" inquired a tall, slender woman with voluptuous curves and voluminous black hair. The woman's eyes and grin were striking in the way that both bespoke of some hidden secret that they had on another person. Her smirk seemed to say, I know who you are, while her eyes said, and I know what you're running from. It was an uneasy feeling that the woman's gaze seemed to cast upon Seras. And yet it was also hypnotic. The more unnerved Seras became, the more she wished to hang on the woman's hip. What was the saying? Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.

Nonetheless, the woman had become a fixed friend. Someone who continuously found herself day after day at Seras' elbow, walking with her home from the university or following her around at the library when work was slow.

"Well," the woman prodded, waving a stack of napkins in the air as drop after drop of cold beer dripped into Seras' lap.

"I- oh, yeah! Napkins. Yes, thank you."

Seras took the offered napkins and made quick work of the pools of beer that flooded the top of the varnished wood table. She then tried dabbing at the spine and covers of her book, cursing again as she saw the pages already begin to warp and become discolored.

"Nikola, was your head in the clouds again? You have to stop doing that, you know. Or else that thing called gravity- you know, the thing always pressing down on us- is going to slam you back to earth with no mercy. None at all."

"So, is that what you're learning in advanced physics, Simone?" asked a deep, familiar voice. Seras needn't have glanced up for she knew the voice well; the clear articulation, the way that several words were accented, the way that his tone clipped the end of the question and left it hanging in the air.

It was him. Mathias Vultri. Mathias Vultri, a high ranking member of the occult club that lied in a constant sheet of obscurity and rumor. He was one of the few known members. Many members of the acclaimed occult club preferred to lie low and not cause suspicion, but Mathias did the polar opposite. Instead, the college senior would regularly boast about his placement in the club and would leave cryptic little hints in his enchanting voice that seemed to be able to entrance any listener. He was the primary lead that Officer Seras Victoria was absolutely certain would lead her to the heart of the occult club. The same occult club that just so happened to be in the midst of the disappearances of university students.

Behind Mathias' broad shoulders were two other young men. Adrian nodded towards Seras while the other simply flicked his unlit cigarette in her direction. (Seras had come to know that the young man who always carried around an unlit cigarette was called Tommy Garner.)

Simone- whose name was pronounced sigh-moan, as she was very adamant about informing everyone-slid into the booth just opposite of Seras. The other woman winked at Seras when Adrian scooted in towards Seras, who was still dabbing at her wet jeans, the damn things. Tommy slipped in next to Simone, wiggling a suggestive brow at the young woman which only earned him a pair of rolled eyes and a flick of dark curls. Mathias dragged a chair forth- how he even found one in the busy pub, Seras hadn't the foggiest-, and assumed the head of the booth.

"So," Mathias threaded his fingers together and rested his chin atop of them. "What brings you to the Old Duke, Nikola? We haven't seen you here before."

"Not that we come here often, though," interjected Simone who threw a look of 'don't be a dick' towards Mathias. She then leant across the table to further explain her remark to Seras. "We're often going to this pub a while aways from here, see."

"Yes," Mathias simply raised a brow, almost disinterested entirely. "But we come here often enough. It was an innocent question, truly."

"Well," Seras began to say as the full attention of the group turned to her. She resisted the urge to fidget in her seat and instead took to aimlessly dabbing at the book once again. "I was only just recommended that I come here. Hilary told me about it in psych yesterday."

"Hilary Balefield?"

Seras nodded in the affirmative while Simone ahhed knowingly. Seras felt the bench shift beside her and glanced over at Adrian. He was turned towards her, his face resting against his fist while his expression was one of honest inquiry. That was something that Seras liked about the young man. He was honest in everything he did. Whether his opinion was positive or not, he still voiced it. He was, in her opinion, the only person she felt any real connection with. Her, Seras Victoria, not the false persona of Nikola Wester.

"Yes, how do you like it?" Mathias asked, gesturing towards the bustling pub that was filled with boisterous laughter and drunken slurs.

"It certainly lives up to its name," she said, meeting his gaze.

"Oh," Mathias leaned forward. "In that its jazz is remarkable?"

"No, because it's rather old," she said, feeling the joke fall flat on its ass. The joke was, in Seras' opinion, a damn good one. The Old Duke is rather old. Hah. Get it? Seras got it. The only response she got was a twitch of the lips from Mathias and a wink from Adrian that made Simone kick her ankles under the table.

"That it is," Mathias said quickly, saving Seras from the awkward silence. "Either way, we were only stopping by to say hello." Mathias had begun to rise from his seat when Simone shot him a glance that made his eyes widen slightly in realization. "Oh, yes, I nearly forgot." Had he? "I was told to invite you to, ah… Oh…," he trailed off, patting his coat's various pockets before producing forth a thick envelope from one. "I was told to invite you to a party this All Saints' Eve.-"

"Tha's Halloween, if ya did' know," piped up Tommy.

Mathias raised a brow in his direction which silenced the young man. How'd he do that? Seras would have liked to known. "Yes, Halloween. It's informal, but it is recommended that you wear a costume. It is a mixer of sorts for possible candidates for…" He gave Seras a look and she instantly knew what he meant- the occult club. "You will be graded on how well you are able to mix with the crowds. Though, you will not be told who is simply there for the party and who is already a member. I hope that you make your way, come All Hallows' Eve."

Seras nodded, unsure of what to say as she took the thick envelope from Mathias. "Thank you," she said after a moment.

"You're welcome, Wittle Wester," Simone responded for Mathias. He had already risen from his seat and was tapping his fingers restlessly against the back of the chair. Simone flashed a sultry, suggestive smile towards Seras before following Tommy's leave and vacating her side of the booth. Adrian, too, slid out of the booth, coming to stand behind Mathias. They looked like some sort of hit squad. Mathias their cold, calculating- yet extraordinarily pompous- leader. Tommy, their wise-guy with brute strength. Simone who could easily woo the chastest of people and had an air of mystery to her. And Adrian, Mathias' right hand man who was highly intelligent and able to do Mathias' dirty work.

With a parting nod from Mathias, they moved silently through the crowded pub before getting lost in the sea of people.

Seras stared after them, unsure of how to react to the encounter. This was good, right? This was one step closer to finding out all there was to know about the inconspicuous occult club. And that meant that Seras was one step closer to ending the strain of disappearances… The same disappearances that had only grown in numbers in the last few weeks. It was late October and the count of the missing rose from the staggering 23 missing people at the beginning of the month to the impossible number of 43 missing persons. It was ludicrous- in every sense of the word.

"Miss?" inquired a heavily accented voice that tore Seras from her thoughts. "Would you like another beer?" The waitress glanced down at the wet wad of napkins and the streak marks that her hasty cleaning job had given the table. "It seems tha' the table didn't get enough last time."


Another band had taken the stage while Seras found herself lost within her book once again. A half-full glass of beer rested next to the book- but not too close, she needn't have the book drenched again- and hadn't been touched in the last twenty minutes or so. Whenever Seras became absorbed in a book, she became completely clueless to the world that turned outside of the one her mind had traveled to. The sweet, tangy jazz that poured from the stage came to swirl around Seras and only amplified the intensity of her reading. The live music provided a soundtrack to the reading she was immersed in.

Page after page, section after section. She gobbled up the words like a starving man. And, perhaps, she was. Her soul thirsted for knowledge in a way that was both insatiable and yet quenched daily. Each new lesson, each thought provoking idea only served as fodder that her mind would chew on and absorb in its entirety before demanding more. Books were her favorite source of food for her scholarly soul. And this book was a great one at that. This book put things into a certain light that Seras had never thought of before. It was extraordinary- revolutionary, even. To put that point of view in that situatio-

"Hellsing?"

Seras paused in her reading. She tensed instantly while her knuckles turned white from her viselike grip she held the thick, almost ancient book with. There was something about the voice that had uttered only a mere word that was able to drag her out of her thoughts that had her instantaneously on edge. There was this cold, apathetic, and, yet, almost mocking tone to the simple question. It sent shivers running up and down Seras' spine. A voice, from somewhere deep and instinctual inside of her, screamed and shrieked that she needed to get up and run. Run. Run. Yes, Seras needed to run. Run far, far away. But from what?

"And just what is a pretty little thing like you doing reading a book about monsters and ghouls?"

There it was again. That feeling of nails scrapping across the back of her neck while wind seemed to blow across her shoulder blades, setting her nerves on fire. What was this? This sense of utter panic?

"It interests me," Seras replied, her voice betraying none of her inner disarray.

A chuckle, deeper and far more menacing than the voice, rumbled from somewhere above her.

Seras dared a glance up at the voice and nearly gasped aloud when she did. Her gaze was met by a tall, slender man who held a red duster over one arm and a crimson, wide-brimmed fedora in the other. He wore a casual suit with a loose tie that matched the blood red color of his hat and coat. His slacks were tight fitting and straddled the line between revealing too much and not revealing enough- strange as it was. Long ebony bangs hung around his face, only further accenting his sharp cheekbones. Her eyes ran along his sculpted face before settling on his orange rimmed glances that obscured her view of his eyes. The stranger's hidden gaze magnified the sense of mystery that seemed to roll off of the man in near tangible waves. He had an air of foreign beauty that stuck her as almost… almost… unnatural.

Seras felt herself lean towards where the man stood at the end of her booth while her mind roared in protest. No, she thought, halting her advance. You don't know this man, stay weary.

As if sensing that Seras was not going to come any closer to him, the man slid into the uninhabited side of the booth that Simone and Tommy had vacated no less than an hour ago. The man's very presence was intimidating and seemed to belittle everything around him. He laid his coat across his thighs and placed the hat atop of the table. The rim brushed against Seras' fingers that were still clamped to the book which had piqued the stranger's interest.

Seras retracted her arms in to herself- not without the notice of a grin on the strange man's face. She leant into the booth's wooden back, trying to distance herself from the man across from her. It briefly crossed her mind that the man's long legs had no room to breathe beneath the table.

"It interests you?" His question drew her attention to him once again. His head was cocked slightly and the tips of gloved fingers hovered near the edge of the tabletop.

"Yes," Seras said slowly, taking in all there was to the man. What about him made her so damn uneasy? Sure, he was rather intimidating and imposing. But, for Hell's sake, so were half the men at the Metropolitan Police!

"So," the man began, obviously not pleased with her short and simple answer. "What about night creatures appeals to you? Or, perhaps, is it merely a passing fancy inspired by the upcoming holiday?"

Seras pursed her lips before answering, "No, not really. It's more for personal enjoyment." And that wasn't a lie. Even though Seras was reading the book as a sort of reconnaissance for when she inevitably weaseled her way into the occult club, Seras had found herself trapped within the compelling, realistic- albeit distorted- world that the author had spun. It was written in the view of the protagonist who was merely recording his daily life within the realm of the fantastical and otherworldly. He was a human, yes. But he constantly conspired with other beings. The man's personal familiar was a wrathful, savage, and cruel beast who dined on the blood or poor, virgin women. It was said that his name was-

"Personal enjoyment?" he mused, a wicked smirk taking the place of his grin as he leaned over the table. Seras had a feeling the man always wore a bemused expression; it only strengthened the dark mystery which seemed to hang around him.

"That's usually why one reads a book," she noted sardonically, drawing the book closer to her.

The man stared at her for a moment, his expression devoid of any emotion. The only thing that rested on his features was his grin, but she felt as if that was just a staple of his appearance- that it meant nothing at all. Slowly, his smile began to stretch from ear to ear and Seras caught a brief sight of pristinely white teeth that rivaled the man's skin in their pale whiteness.

"Yes, it does appear that way. Now, let me reword my question: what about the book interests you?"

"The hypocrisy," she said. Seras gloated internally when the man's smug smile slipped into something akin to shock and puzzlement. The look only lasted a second before his grin was back in place.

"What hypocrisy?" he asked, settling against the back of his side of the booth, mimicking her pose.

"Well, as you seem to know, the book is written in the point of view of the same Abraham Van Hellsing from Bram Stoker. You know, Dracula. The man is religious, yet he consorts with demons. Seems a little anti-productive…" she trailed off, looking down at the book that still lay open before her. She stroked the yellowed pages, contemplating something for a moment. "And you'd think that a religious man wouldn't be so cruel. He's an ass really. He's walking around with all these demons- monsters, he calls them- and the only way he portrays them is as if they have no morals…"

"But, if the creatures within his fables are truly monsters, wouldn't that mean that they have already abandoned all morals?" Seras glanced up at the stranger and felt a chill run down her spine as a smile, thin and maniacal, slithered its way onto his features.

"The definition of a monster varies, but I believe a monster is something that abandons hope and fear alike. Something that loses sight of its goals and aspirations. Not all monsters are creatures that go bump in the night," Seras' tone turned grave and she met the stranger's hidden gaze full on, believing every word she said. "Some are human. In fact, most are." In her mind's eye, Seras saw a flash of a pink sweater and an eternal, silent shriek. "To be a monster is to abandon humanity, and humanity is so much more than just morals. Humanity is not about playing God and ending others' lives prematurely. Humanity is not about needless bloodshed fueled by man's greed. No, not at all. Humanity is about finding guilt and remorse for the past. Humanity is about finding joy within one's self and not within earthly sins. Humanity is about feeling. Love and hate; envy and joy; hope and sorrow. Humanity is about bearing the pain of being alive."

The man's sly, sure smile slipped into one of momentary shock and awe that was swiftly replaced with a simple, yet unsettling grin. Through her little speech, both the nameless man and Seras had leant further over the table, drawing closer in one another in an unconscious attempt at blocking out the noisy world around them. A woman, the snarky waitress from before, plopped down a plate of greasy, fried chips between the two with a flick of her wrist.

Seras immediately pushed against the back of the booth once again, dropping her gaze to the book while the man's brows –from what could be seen over the top of his orange-rimmed glasses and between the silky, ebony locks- knitted together as he glared at the woman who dared interrupt their conversation. The waitress didn't seem to catch wind of his annoyance, most likely due to her being a seasoned veteran of the food industry, and simply casted a judgment-filled look between the young woman and the strange man before losing herself within the crowd once again.

Seras shifted in the booth, her fingers dancing atop the book's pages. The man turned his attention back to Seras, the grin back in its fixed place.

"Hm." The man cocked his head to the side as if listening for something. He righted his head and trained his sight on a woman who had just entered the Old Duke. The woman was a modern day Valkyrie; glorious, beautiful, and had strength that radiated from her. Long blond hair spilled over her shoulders and down the back of her slim fitting suit that was loosely covered by a dull, shapeless coat. The woman's glasses reflected the light, causing her already powerful aura to appear menacing.

"Who is that?" Seras asked before she thought better of it.

Her question was greeted by a mere chuckle that sent shivers running up and down her spine. She looked over towards the man only to find him standing at the end of the table, coat and hat in hand. How had he gotten up without her noticing? How long did she look away- one, two seconds? How had he gotten out so swiftly and soundlessly?

Beneath the dim lights of the pub, shadows were casted up the stranger's face, accenting his sharp cheekbones and… what was that? When the man had just smiled, a flash of something had shown. Something pearly white and sharp. Seras was dragged out of her fixation when the man bowed with a dip of his head. When he straightened, his smile, both enigmatic and maniacal, was plastered to his face.

"I am afraid I must bid you farewell. The night is still young and I have much to do." His tone was ominous and seemed to allude to something besides a normal man's business. He gave the young woman seated beneath him one more look-over before turning on his heels, starting off towards the pub's exit.

Seras had begun to bid the man a good night when realization dawned on her. "Wait!" The man did not cease his exit. "Wait, sir! Hey! I don't know your name!"

The man had parted the sea of pub goers as easily as Moses did to the Red Sea. He had stridden up to the heavenly warrior of a woman before throwing a wicked glance over his shoulder at Seras. Though he was across the pub from her and tens upon tens of people stood between them and the jazz ensemble's music roared, his deep, resounding voice reached her as clear as if the man had whispered it into the shell of her ear.

"Alucard."


AN: Hello there! Ahhh! That you to everyone who has reviewed! The reviews honestly, truly motivate me to write- hence this update coming so 'quickly'. I actually had wanted to post this chapter and the next chapter on Halloween, but oops. Oh, and the reason why this chapter is mostly dialogue is because I wanted to split up this MEGA chapter into two parts so it'd flow a bit better (and not be so damn long). Yes, yes! I plan to make each chapter longer and longer! I hope you are all into that sort of a thing. *Cheeky smile*