Chapter 4: A New Wolf?
Walter C. Dornez woke in a soft bed with sunlight tickling his nose. He groaned as he felt an incredible amount of pain at the back of his head. Feeling his bones creak with age he sat up and rubbed the spot where the pain was concentrate, taking a moment to acknowledge the fact that he was in his silk pajamas. Under his wrinkled fingers he felt the rough paper of a bandage and the smooth feeling of medical tape.
In a jolt it all returned to him, the werewolf, his chip, his betrayal.
Dear lord he felt sick. He swung his legs out of bed and stumbled over to the waste basket and vomited from delirium and shame. He couldn't remember how much he'd given to Millennium, maybe he didn't want to.
"Sir Integra" Walter softly spoke to himself. He needed to talk with her immediately, to apologize, to beg for forgiveness. Without bothering to dress properly he stumbled out of his room, still groggy from sleep and the pain in the back of his head killing him. Without the chip to hold it back, the full burdens of his age hit him like a freight train. His bones creaked with age, and his back flared in pain. He cried out in pain and leaned against the wall for support. The poor man felt like he had grown twenty years older in a single night.
"Sir are you okay?" asked a young soldier that had been posted outside his room.
Pain and guilt made Walter irritable. "No, I'm just doubled over in pain fighting back tears because it's a new dance craze!" he shouted.
"Oh good I thought you were hurt." said the apparently stupid guard in a relieved tone.
"I AM HURT YOU IDIOT!" roared Walter.
"S-sorry sir." said the guard.
"Make yourself useful and help me get to Sir Integra." grumbled Walter. "Where is she anyway, is she all right?" asked the butler as the soldier walked up to him and allowed Walter to lean on his shoulder.
"She's having breakfast. Hate to tell you this, but you've been asleep for at least twenty four hours." said the guard as they walked down the hall towards the dinning room.
"A whole day?" said Walter in disbelief.
The guard nodded. "Yeah getting that chip ripped out of ya really did a number on your brain. The surgeon says that you're lucky to be alive."
Walter nodded, that was to be expected given that a werewolf had ripped a highly electrical mind control device from his brain.
"Ah, Walter, you have awakened." said an instantly recognizable voice from behind him. Walter straightened and turned to face the Black Peril himself, Alucard.
"Alucard, it's good to see you with free eyes again." said the butler in a relieved tone. "Is Sir Integra expecting me?"
The vampire nodded. "Indeed my friend, she will want to speak with you immediately. Shall we go now? I am eager to return to my coffin for the day." the vampire obviously was tired and wanted his day's sleep.
"Of course Alucard, let us go immediately." said Walter politely. "Thank you for you assistance good sir." he said to the soldier. "Have a pleasant morning." He then walked over to Alucard and went with the Vampire to meet with their mutual employer.
To say that the past twenty four hours had been nerve-wracking for Hans would be an understatement to say the least. Following his drastic measures with Walter he had been literally dragged back to his cell by an irate Alucard where he had spent twenty four hours under constant guard by soldiers armed with silver bullets. During that time he had been fed a total of twice in the form of old biscuits and moldy meat.
It was better than some of the crap he had eaten over the years, like the one time his sister had tried to bake. She had thought their stove ran on gasoline and it had literally blown up. It had been a miracle no one was hurt, so they had naturally laughed about it afterward, but Maria was never allowed near the kitchen again.
In reality those were the things that kept him active and hopeful, little memories like that one returning. Like the one where he and Maria had stashed the fish they had caught in the cupboards and forgotten about it. They hadn't been able to get rid of the smell for weeks.
Right now he was sitting on a new cot, a replacement for the one he had destroyed when Alucard had approached him, bouncing a rubber ball on the cold stone, trying to shake off a dream he had had, one that left a foul taste in his mouth and a cold feeling in the pit of his stomach.
Hans was in a dark hall, maybe underground judging by the earthen ceiling and the smell of old life in the air. The hall seemed to stretch on for miles for there was no light filtering in from the outside, and yet there was a mellow gold light that illuminated the stone sides of the hallway. Painted upon the stones were stories, stories of werewolves.
It showed the mighty Romulus and Remus, the first werewolves building their city and then fighting to the death over the right to rule their new home. There was honorable Julius Caesar leading his warriors into battle against the Germans in his fully morphed wolf form, his spear held high above his head while a red pall hung over his men, each wearing a look of a rabid animal as the power of the wolf infected each of them.
As he moved down the hall, the scenes showed the werewolves fighting against the Germans, loyal to Rome to their bitter ends. There was Ereth the Red, and his legion of berserkers meeting an old man, presumably a survivor of the sacking of Rome judging by his armor and horse hair plume, and bestowing upon them the power of the werewolf. The frescoes detailed the glory of the werewolf Viking's raids, spreading they're curse across Europe, even to North America in the company of Ereth
Finally, Hans came to the end of the hall, and a wooden door awaited him. The wood was a fine oak and the bark had been kept on giving it a rough feel that even in the hazy dream state Hans loved. Carefully, he opened the door which swung open with unnatural ease.
Inside was a man sitting upon a gold and marble throne. The room he resided in was that of an ancient church with crumbling walls of stone, shattered stained glass windows, and broken pews. The man was old, ancient even. His skin had turned white and wrinkly with age, like parchment left in the sun too long. His blue eyes were sunken and lusterless. His hair and beard were a pure snow white, not unlike the color of Hans's hair, but unlike his the hair was dull, and reeked of age. He wore faded robes of gold and red laced with symbols and pictures of black, green, and silver. In one hand he held a two-handed broadsword forged from silver and in his other he held a golden scepter adorned with a cross of the Church of Rome.
Hans was paralyzed for he sensed that this man was powerful, powerful beyond Hans's own pitiful strength, perhaps even greater than the No Life King himself. The man turned his icy blue eyes onto Hans, and the werewolf felt a cold feeling in his stomach, a feeling of pure dread.
The man spoke three words, three words only. And as he spoke the words in a voice of thunder his eyes came to life with blood red light.
"I await thee."
Hans crushed the rubber ball in his palm releasing a small explosion of air as he gritted his teeth against the memory of the dream. He didn't know why he felt such terror at the sight of the old man, but he filled him with dread none the less.
But despite that, the old man seemed vaguely familiar to Hans. His face was like the memory from a dream, a hazy feeling of familiarity that he couldn't quite place. The eyes of the old man were so familiar yet so alien he couldn't understand it.
To take his mind off of the dream he dropped the crushed ball and held up his hand. Hans was thinking about his mist powers. He knew that he could transform into a cloud of mist, even concentrate it in certain parts of the body to turn individual parts of himself into mist. But he always returned to his normal form. But could he perhaps make new shapes?
Curious, Hans concentrated on his arm from elbow up. It slowly deformed into white mist, floating about like dreams while asleep. He focused on the shape he wanted, and concentrated hard. Instantly, his body fought against him, protesting this new shape, longing to return to it's true form, but Hans pushed against it as hard as he could. Slowly the mist began to form a solid object, an object of metal. When he was done he felt an immense relief of pressure from his mind as the struggle of brain against flesh stopped. When he opened his eyes, he smiled in satisfaction, for his arm had reformed into a long thin blade.
Oh yes, this ability would become most useful he thought as he allowed his arm to mist back into his hand again.
His musings were interrupted by the scrapping of the metal door against the hard stone floor. Seras, flanked by two soldiers walked into the room, all three training they're weapons on Hans. "Sir Integra wants to speak with you Hans." said Seras in a curt voice. "Right now." she elaborated when Hans didn't move.
"Valter has not voken up I take it?" asked the werewolf putting his coat back around his shoulders as he stood.
Seras shook her head. "Not yet, but he's alive, and that's the only reason you are to." she said in a cold voice.
Sighing Hans followed her, with the two soldiers behind him, up the stairs quietly as she led him to Sir Integra.
"Ze vas chip analyzed ja?" asked Hans casually.
Seras nodded. "It was, why do you ask?"
"I vas right, you must see zat. Vhen he vakes up he vill tell you himself if you are still not convinced." said Hans calmly.
"Hmm." said Seras unaccommodating. Hans took the hint and was quiet the rest of the way.
As it was, Integra was in the dining room enjoying a breakfast of eggs and bacon with coffee and hash browns on the side . She looked up to see Seras, the two soldiers, and the current bane of her existence Hans Gunsche walk into the room.
"Thank you for bringing him Seras, you may go back to sleep now." said Integra in a tense tone.
"Thank you so much Sir Integra." said a very relieved Seras. "I'm still getting used to this whole nocturnal thing." she said with a small laugh. Hans chuckled with her and watched as she left the room to get some rest.
"Sit, please." said Integra in a dark voice to Hans. Not dreaming of disobeying the Hellsing chief the werewolf sat across the table from her.
Integra wiped her mouth with her napkin and pushed her plate aside and twined her fingers together and resting her shin on them.
"Do you have any idea how much of a pain in the bloody ass you are?" she asked coldly. "You are without a doubt the most bothersome beast ever to knock on my doors."
"Master." said the smooth voice of Alucard as he entered the room. "I believe that a friend wants to talk to you." It was the first time Hans had heard genuine kindness in the vampire's voice. Both Integra and Hans turned to see that the man accompanying Alucard was Walter himself.
The butler looked like hell. He was still in his pajamas, his normally neat hair was in a horrible mess, his face was haggard and gaunt from guilt and pain, and Hans could smell fresh vomit on his breath.
"Sir Integra," he croaked. "I-I.. what can I... I'm sorry." he finally managed to choke out. "I didn't want to.. I... the chip."
Integra held up her hand and Walter stopped talking, tears forming in his old blue eyes. "I know Walter, we analyzed the Chip, you were being controlled. You're as blameless as a sword or a firearm." she smiled at him. "You have nothing to be ashamed of."
Tears silently fell down the old warrior's face, but they were tears of gratitude. "Thank you... both of you." he said to Integra and Hans. "Integra, thank you." was all he could say. Then he turned to Hans. "And you, you freed me, you gave me myself back, I can't thank you enough for this."
"I hate to interrupt this little session of love and understanding," sneered the No Life King, "but I believe that the time has come for us to hear the werewolf's story." said Alucard. "Shall I retrieve the Police Girl?" asked the vampire.
Integra nodded. "Fetch her if you would be so kind. And Walter," she said to the butler. "Put something decent on."
(Rome, Italy)
The incident in Ireland was starting to bug Alexander Anderson. More specifically the werewolf whom had interrupted his slaughter of that undead heathen woman. He was frustrated that the werewolf had robbed him of his kill of course, but it was more than that. He could have sworn that he knew the werewolf from somewhere, but he also knew that he had never met the beast before.
Damn this was starting to annoy him.
Right now he was in his office at the orphanage he ran trying without success to get his mind off of the werewolf by doing some paperwork for an adoption that was currently in the works. He sighed and put down his pen rubbing his forehead in frustration. He buzzed his intercom and heard his secretary, Angela Gates, on the other side.
"What is it Father Anderson?" asked Angela as he buzzed her. "Do you need something?"
"Yes actually." said Anderson. "I need to see some Iscariot Case Files, anything regarding werewolves, specifically ones in German speaking areas."
Angela didn't blink an eye at the strange request, she was used to handling stuff like this for her boss. "How far back sir?" she asked.
Anderson considered a moment before finally saying, "About the World War Two era," that was when he started working for Iscariot, but if he had seen the werewolf in records it may have been further back, but it was as good a place as any to start.
"Sure thing boss, don't kill anything while I'm gone." smirked the girl. Anderson chuckled and disconnected the intercom. Angela was a snarky American girl who added some much needed humor to Anderson's blood soaked life. She had been orphaned at an early age when her parents had moved to Rome and had died in a car crash. Poor little Angela had fallen into Anderson's care, and had been his friend ever since.
Anderson smiled to himself and returned to his paperwork. It seemed little Nicholas was being adopted this Thursday by a lovely young couple in the city, one of the lucky ones for sure, but he was sure going to miss the little mischievous scamp. He was almost done filling out the form when Angela breezed into the room holding one thick case file.
"Here ya go boss, not sure what importance it is though." said the blonde haired American girl dropping the file on his desk.
"That's it, one file?" asked Anderson. He couldn't believe that there had only been one werewolf case since the start of Wold War Two.
Angela nodded. "Yup, and why do you even need it, you were the guy who handled it after all apparently."
Anderson frowned and opened the file, surely she couldn't mean that case. The moment he opened it, it all made sense. Why he recognized the wolf, where he had seen it before.
"Thank you for you help Angela." said Anderson hurriedly, putting the file in his coat and standing up while putting the last signature on the document. "Now I have to go take care of something very quickly, I'll be back as soon as I can." as he said all this he threw on a fedora hat and made his way to the door.
"Wait boss, what the hell is going on?" asked Angela. Anderson shot her a glowering look. "Right sorry." said Angela apologetically. "But what is going on? And don't bother lying to me, I know when you're lying to me Anderson." Angela punctuated this by crossing her arms and glaring daggers at her boss.
Anderson sighed and said, "Someone very close to me has though that she was alone for a very long time, and now I think she's not as alone as she might have thought." With that he left his office and made his way to the car supplied to him by the Vatican. It's not like he needed it, he could run as fast as the thing, if not faster, but it was important that he appear normal to the public. Anderson drove to a little convent set in the scenic Italian countryside about twelve miles outside of Rome. It was a relatively small convent, the Convent of St. Bernadotte of Lourdes, and had a total of twelve sisters living in it's walls.
Anderson exited the car and strode up to the front gate. He found it locked and, being impatient, slashed it open with his bayonets offering a quick prayer of forgiveness for the sacrilege. Stepping across the mangled gate he passed two terrified sisters and walked straight to the front door. As he approached the doors were pushed open from within and a very cross Reverend Mother walked out to look him straight in the eye, murder burning in them.
"I apologize for the gate, but I'm in a rush." said Anderson curtly. "You know whom I need to speak to."
The Reverend Mother glared at him. "If you weren't a Paladin of Iscariot as well as the boy I raised in these very walls I would have you strung up by your toes."
Anderson chuckled. He knew this woman and loved her like a mother, but he also knew she wasn't kidding about the stringing up thing. "It's good to see you again little Alexander." smiled the little old woman hugging the boy she had raised since he was in diapers.
"I've missed you as well Mother Superior." he said wrapping the little old woman in a tight hug, but not enough to hurt her fragile body, he was a superhuman, and he knew the hard way not to use his strength in certain situations.
"I'll fetch her immediately." said the nun as she turned back to the convent doors. "Stay out here, and try not to destroy anything else would you?"
'Sixty years I've known her and I still act like a bloody baby around her.' Thought the Paladin to himself. 'Probably always will.'
Anderson sat on a stone bench in the courtyard, the two sisters that were in there with him took one look at him and ran as fast as they could for the door. Anderson sighed and pulled out the file and went back over the case, dwelling on the picture that had triggered his memory earlier, the little girl beside a dying German man.
"Father Anderson," said a quiet voice. "You wanted to speak with me?" Anderson looked up from his case file to see the person he needed to speak to more than anyone at the moment. She was a rather tall German girl, thin and frail with white hair blowing in the breeze. But Anderson knew that the girl before him was an incredibly powerful warrior, even if she dressed in the garb of a nun. Her red eyes were kind, and held questions that Anderson for so long wished he had answers for.
He was happy to say he finally had answers for her.
"Maria," he said to her,"I think that your brother is alive."
(Hellsing Manor)
It was noon of the next day by the time Walter had made up his mind.
Hans had told them his story and his heart had gone out to the werewolf after hearing of the trials he had to suffer through. Alucard had been amused if anything and Integra had absorbed it all with her usual cool indifference. Seras n the other hand had openly wept when she had heard Hans's story. Not actual sobs of course, but quiet tears of pity.
Hans was now an official agent of Hellsing. After having given them the lowdown on Millennium and his spy, a female vampire named Rip Van Winkle, he had been given a position as a Captain in Hellsing.
The irony was lost on none of them.
Throughout the rest of the day Walter, for the first time, truly felt the burdens of his age. His bones hurt, his eyes hurt, even his damn skin hurt. He was certain that arthritis was developing in both his wrists and he needed glasses, not just the monocle any more.
For the first time in his life, he felt old.
It wasn't age he was worried about, it was the idea of becoming useless. He had given his life to serving the Crown and serving Sir Integra. A week ago he was sixty and could still kick a vampire's ass into next week if he needed to. Now he was finding even the simplest of his duties as butler challenging.
It was this fear of becoming useless that led him to make his decision.
Nervous beyond belief, he pushed his way into Integra's study. At the moment she was drilling Hans for any more information on the revived Millennium.
She looked up at him as he entered the study. "Walter, what are you doing here?"
Walter sighed, "I- I'm sorry Sir Integra, I know this is a bad time, but I need to do this now."
"Should I leave or..." asked Hans.
Walter shook his head. "No, I need to talk to you as well." Hans frowned but sank back into his chair.
Walter sighed and walked to the window, gazing out onto the Hellsing grounds. "Do not misunderstand Hans, I am grateful for you taking out the chip, I really am, but ever since you did, my age has caught up with me. My bones ache, I;m developing arthritis, my eyes have grown weak. For the first time, I feel old." he turned away from the window to face Hans and Integra. "I don't want to become useless."
"Walter, I'm sorry that age has caught up with you." said Integra sadly, "but what do you want me to tell you? What do you want me to do?"
'Here goes everything.' thought Walter. "I- I want Hans to make me a werewolf."
The silence in the room was deafening. Integra and Hans both stared at Walter with blank shock in their eyes. "It- it's just" said Walter quickly. "I can't be a vampire anymore, not since I was sixteen at any rate, and werewolves die eventually, so I'd get the best of both worlds."
Hans was the first to speak. "Valter.. are you sure?"
Integra exploded. "WHAT THE BLOODY HELL WALTER!" she screamed. "You want to become one of the mindless monsters we hunt! No offense." she said to Hans.
"None taken." shrugged Hans.
"I- I know how it sounds," said Walter holding up his hands to fend off the furious Hellsing heir. "But I have considered this long and hard Sir, and I want this. I know the risks, I've done my reading, and I want this."
Integra stared at Walter, her oldest friend and her brother figure, the only one in this whole place she truly trusted.
And now he wanted to become a monster.
"I- I can't lose you too Walter." said Integra, and for a moment, she was a little girl again, that same little girl whom Walter had raised after her father died.
"You aren't losing me Integra." assured Walter kindly. "I'll still be Walter, just a better version."
"I don't want a better version," said Integra sadly, "I want this version, the Walter who raised me."
Walter sighed. "I'll still be that Walter, just more useful than I was before."
Integra fought back tears. "I- I can't say that I agree with this Walter, but do what you have to. And if something goes wrong, if you hurt anyone, I will personally put a bullet in your heart."
Walter nodded, he would expect nothing less from the proud Hellsing heiress. "Now Hans, will you-" he turned to Hans but was cut off by seeing the man had shifted into his titanic wolf form. "I- I guess you agree."
Hans didn't want to turn Walter into a werewolf, but he also knew drive when he recognized it. There was nothing he could do or say to talk Walter out of this. And if Hans didn't do it, he didn't want to know what drastic measures Walter would resort to to keep from becoming useless.
Silently Walter held out his arm for the werewolf to bite. Gently as he could, Hans bit down int the flesh, his teeth pumping venom into his body through the blood stream.
Walter at first felt nothing, just the initial pain of being bitten. A few moments passed, and Hans released him, and then it started. Pain began to burn in Walter's arm, all the way up his shoulder into his chest. He cried out in agony and fell to the ground. As darkness took him, the last thing he heard was an ancient primal howl, sounding in his soul.