Author's Note: I'm sorry if I've been confusing people with the two separate stories going on. I promise that they're going to be slowly merging into one bigger story. (Sighs) I actually never intended for this to span more than 3 chapters. Why do I always do this to myself?! (Not that I mind, actually. This story is quickly becoming my baby right now, until something else comes along)
Thanks for all the amazing reviews! It's hard to remember to thank everyone personally for reviewing, but I do enjoy all the reviews and they make me want to keep writing for all of my little scarf-clad readers! So thank you very much! (Grins happily) Now, back to the story!
Integra watched Anderson push his two subordinates (minions) out of the hotel room, both protesting wildly at their new orders. He'd given them a sealed letter with strict orders to give it personally to Maxwell.
"You know that they always shoot the messenger! Can't you just call them instead?" Yumiko was practically in tears as she tried to reason with the irate priest. Integra watched in sympathy as the two women pled their case.
"I already did, and that didn't work as you can tell. Now quit your whimpering and get that letter back to the Vatican ASAP. I don't want to spend more nights than I have to with the Human Freezer sticking her cold feet on my calves!" The women nodded dutifully before scurrying into the night.
"Wake up!"
Integra's eyes shot open and she looked up at the woman standing at the foot of the bed. The stern, motherly glance had her on her feet in an instant, clutching her nightgown for dear life. Anderson had volunteered to use the last of his pocket money to trek into town for her "damned cigars", under the notion that she was to stay put and get some more rest. His cell phone, which Heinkel had brought from where he'd left it at the orphanage, lay forgotten on the nightstand. Integra was alone, face to face with-
"M-Margaret Thatcher?" The Iron Lady pursed her lips and crossed her arms irritably over her chest. "What are you doing here? Is this a dream?" Integra looked around for any sign of strange happenings, as the former Prime Minister currently looking with disdain at her starchy nightgown wasn't enough.
"The better question is: what are you doing here! Your comrade is in trouble, and here you are sleeping the night away!" Integra floundered for a moment, trying to figure out what the woman meant. "I'm your Spirit Guide; you're supposed to listen to me, no matter how unpopular I seem in the polls!"
"I understand, ma'am. But…" Integra jumped on a limb and decided they must be talking about Anderson. "I have no idea where he is; what am I supposed to do; run out there in my dressing gown and start shooting blindly?" The woman pointed to the table, where the priest's supply of beeswax had been placed "just in case".
"Of course you aren't! That wouldn't be very English of you, would it? But you can't be letting someone die while you sit around like a ninny. Go out and save him, but make sure you use that wax, and liberally apply it too. Then those unholy creatures can't harm you. Now hurry, there's not any time to lose!" The woman nodded as cannons boomed in the distance and red-clad soldiers marched in formation across the hotel room.
"J-just what's going on?!" Integra sat up and realized she was back in bed, in a hotel room thankfully empty of British Prime Ministers and victory marches. She took one look at the cellular on the table before jumping up and grabbing the wax, stuffing it inside each ear and running out the door, gun in hand. "Stupid Catholic! How can he keep track of an orphanage of children and still be so scatterbrained?" she growled to herself as she took a chance and ran down the path leading north. Despite her anger towards the priest, her heart still thudded with anxiety. What if it turned out she was too late? What sort of hype would fall on her shoulders? There'd be another Crusade for sure: she could hear them now. Those English dogs did this on purpose! She willed herself to run faster as she met with a hill, leading her back towards town (she hoped). It didn't help that any sounds of bustle from the sleepy village were dimmed by the thick wax in her ears.
Running onward, she crested the hill to see two figures at the bottom, at least 15 feet ahead. It was no trouble to place Anderson, who seemed to be both trying to fight the man on the other side of the road and walk towards him willingly. The strange man held out his hands imploringly, his short blonde hair waving in the breeze and Integra's heart skipped a few beats at the implication. She heard terrible screeching coming from the creature's open, venomous mouth and realized with a start that it was singing. The beeswax didn't muffle the song; it simply allowed Integra to hear the true nature of the beast that stood down the lane. How does that work? she wondered for a moment before snapping to attention. Anderson was in grave danger, and unless she did something quickly things would be out of control!
"Here's what we know about the creatures we're up against. Thankfully, our contacts in the Mediterranean countries have found that the Greeks knew well the dangers of Sirens. It's not just another half-truth in a story, I'm afraid." Walter looked out at the weathered, attentive faces of the soldiers. Seras was on the front row squished in between Harry Stevenson and Alucard, both of whom were glaring daggers at each other; Stevenson protectively, Alucard possessively. Seras seemed oblivious to both of them (though Walter decided that she was intentionally ignoring them by her body language) and had her eyes trained on the instructional PowerPoint that Walter had on the projector. Walter cleared his throat and continued, trying to hide his amusement.
"I say thankfully, because our Greek fellows kept a good record of their dealings and they are accessible to us now, although it cost us an arm and a leg to look at them." He pressed the button on his laser pointer and the slide changed to a bulleted list of facts. "Sirens live in groups near the rocky cliffs that line the Europe's southern oceans. They enjoy this region because of the lack of vegetation.
"This is point number one: beeswax. Beeswax is a natural thing, created by bees of course. Sirens are susceptible to it, as well as to wood such as hawthorn or ash. Christians will tell you that this is because Sirens are unholy creatures, although whether that's true or not remains to be unknown. We all know from experience that sometimes myths aren't all they seem." Everyone looked pointedly at the two vampires on the front row. Alucard grinned back viciously at the crowd and Seras ducked under their scrutiny, her face flaming.
"Yes, well: point number two: Sirens only seem to be able to hunt the unmarried. While vampires and other creatures can create ghouls from virgins and the like, Sirens can't hypnotize the married, divorced, or widowed; the Greeks didn't find this out, although the Romans did years later. This is bad for us, because of one thing. Please stand if you are married, or were married at some point." Alucard stood, as well as about a hundred soldiers. Seras looked around curiously. The married population was definitely in the minority, but she accounted that to the young, fresher faces of new men. Wow, if this had happened before the Valentine's attack; I bet over half of those men would have been able to stand. Her heart twisted as she remembered the countless new widows at the graveside funeral, which seemed so long ago now. Turning back around in her chair she eyed Harry, who met her glance with a grim nod. He too realized the point Walter was trying to make. The men sat back down, now abuzz with newfound unease.
"Yes, that's exactly my point. The ones who remained sitting aren't going to be able to fight; they'll stay at home here, protecting the manor." Seras raised her hand and Walter acknowledged her.
"But Walter, what about the beeswax? You just said that they negate the effects of the song." The butler nodded.
"Yes, that's true but this brings me to point three: defeating the creatures. You see men: even if you have enough beeswax for every one of your troops, you still have to be able to see a Siren's heart and pierce it. Now, if you're unmarried still, the Siren will appear to you in the form you think most attractive. For instance, you may find yourself in combat with your girlfriend or a beautiful, helpless woman." He turned slightly pink and coughed before continuing. "Some of you may even see men, I suppose. Still, the one problem remains. Each Siren's heart is located on a different part of its body. These are not uniform creatures like you and I. Each one is uniquely and grotesquely shaped. I've heard it's quite the horrific sight." Seras looked around as a man she didn't know in the back of the crowd stood and spoke with a raspy voice.
"So married men can see their hearts?" he sounded confused. "I mean, that would be pretty damn weird but if my wife had a pulsing heart where her right eye should be, it probably wouldn't be that hard to shoot her." Another man on the other side of the room guffawed.
"If I saw my ex-wife, it wouldn't be hard for me to shoot her at all!" The men fell into laughter at the confession. Seras covered her mouth as a giggle escaped and Harry was trying to remain serious, his cheeks turning blue as he held his breath to keep from chuckling. Walter smiled indulgently at the men before clearing his throat and letting the laughter subside, knowing that it was born from their need to do something to relieve their growing apprehension at the upcoming battle.
"Very funny; but I'm afraid you mistook my meaning. It's not that you would see your wives in place of gorgeous women," he narrowed his eyes as another ripple of laughter worked through the crowd at his words. "In all seriousness, you would see the creatures for what they really look like, not an illusion." The butler repressed a slight shudder as he hit the next slide. Seras jumped back in the chair with a shriek; the men let out a collective gasp at the picture on the slide. Only Alucard seemed unfazed by the image.
"This is a picture of a Siren, taken by a courageous, or foolish, photographer. Since pheromones can't come through photographs, everyone can see its true form here on the screen. Not beauty pageant material, I assure you."
That was an understatement. It was hard to see that the creature was alive or even something that was real and not in an R-rated horror film. It was humanoid in only the vaguest sense of the word. Its skin was jaundiced; cracked, peeling, and oozing yellowish-green pus that trailed like tears down its face and limbs. Its eyes were dim and either extremely bloodshot or naturally orange and black. The misshapen, thin arms hung past the knobby knees and ended in thick black claws. Its mouth was open in a gaping maw that revealed blackened, rotting teeth covered in mucus and slimy excretions. On its side, a translucent, fluid filled sac covered in thick veins served as the heart. Walter allowed the crowd time to adjust to the horrible image before clicking the slide and revealing the end of the slideshow.
"Yes, I agree wholeheartedly with your reactions. It looks like something out of Bruegel's works, in my opinion. But this is what we are fighting against: this is our enemy." His eyes narrowed and he stood ramrod straight, resolve written across his features. "Hellsing will not back down to this threat any more than we would vampires. These are unholy creatures that need to be silenced in order to preserve Country and Crown. I expect nothing less from the best soldiers our country has to offer. Meet with your individual Captains for orders. Unmarried men will be under Captain Victoria. Married men will work with both Alucard and Captain Penn." With that, he ended his lecture and walked offstage.
There was a deafening clamor that followed as chairs scraped the floors and men separated into two groups. Alucard stood at the head of one, looking out over the minority. The raspy-voiced man from earlier stood at his side. Seras looked over at them before studying the amassed men before her, many more than was necessary for what she'd be in charge of doing while the others were fighting. She saw Walter and waved him over, motioning to whisper in his ear when he walked her way.
"I honestly don't need this many men in charge of security and reconnaissance. Do you need help in ammunition and distribution? I can spare more than a few." Walter eyed the troop before nodding his assent and pointing out ten burly men.
"You lot, come with me. I need your help carrying boxes and guns." The men looked to their new Captain, who nodded and shooed them away teasingly before turning to see if she had any familiar faces from her own troop in the crowd. There was Stevenson, of course; a bandy-legged fellow that was relatively new named Roans, a dark skinned man who looked as if he belonged in jail who went by the name Stash… other than that, it seemed everyone was unfamiliar to her. Good, I always enjoy getting to meet new people. I just hope they'll feel the same way.
That should be the least of your worries, Police Girl. Seras fought the urge to whip her head around and look at her master, who was currently letting Captain Penn say his piece to the men.
I know. Besides, I'm not the one having to worry. You all had better be careful out there, Master. She felt her unease for the men grow. She didn't have to worry about her Master; something this trivial wouldn't be a problem for him to clear up. But she doubted they'd all get out without any casualties whatsoever. Humans are so fragile.
You act as though I've never commanded soldiers before. He couldn't keep his delight at the upcoming battle out of their bond and she frowned at the feeling. It was a slightly uncomfortable emotion for her; although when she first heard that they were going to war she had felt the ghost of excitement as well.
No sir. I've simply read how you treated your military before. I care for a good number of those men. I don't want… she wrinkled her eyebrows and set her jaw; she refused to even imagine that possibility. If she thought about them dying, then they may as well have been dead. She trained her men better than that-as their commanding officer, she should be confident in their abilities!
Do not worry yourself. His tone was actually sincere for once and she felt a phantom touch brush her head before the soldiers left the room to get ready for battle. She smiled and turned back to her own men, explaining the details of their part in Walter's grand scheme. She truly didn't need to worry; she had a kickass Master who would have things taken care of before anyone had time to think twice.
The gunshot echoed through the countryside. Anderson backed up in confusion, his eyes flashing towards Integra. The strange man jerked as the bullet pierced through his head, but acted as though it was nothing. The screeching song ceased for one moment as the creature's brown eyes flitted to where Integra stood at the base of the hill, her gun in her outstretched hands. It hissed; a thick, gurgling sound that made every hair on Integra's body stand straight. She squashed the fear bubbling inside her as she unloaded another shot in the Siren's stomach, trying to bring it down. The shot worked and it fell to its knees, vomiting a slick, oily mess of sludge and venom. She took the moment to run towards the pair, moving towards Anderson with the intent on pushing him out of harm's way for the time being until she could stuff some wax down his ears.
Something snagged her gown and she fell flat on the hard-packed dirt, the gun clattering out of her hands. She looked back to see the Siren had the tail end of her gown in hideous clawed hands, causing a large tear to rip up the side and angle across her back. He leered at her, the gurgling sound rising to another screech. She smirked, turning her head to one side in a mocking way. The Siren seemed to notice that its song had no effect and the screeching sound rose in pitch until it became a scream. Anderson flung his hands over his ears, his face contorted in pain. Integra winced, but kept her ears uncovered and watched as the Siren turned blue, then purple. Suddenly, its eyes bulged and its head exploded. Integra couldn't help herself; she gagged as thick chunks of black mess splattered across her ripped gown. The stench was unbearable. The now-headless body wiggled a few seconds before relaxing and dissolving into black swill. Integra looked at the body with a morbid fascination. I just watched someone literally sing themselves to death. He was so obsessed with making me suffer, he sang himself to death. How…strange.
She carefully stood, looking in disgust at the ruined gown. There was no way she could ever scrub the odor out of it. She adjusted it to where it wouldn't be right up on her neck, unbuttoning the collar down to the last button. She looked over to see Anderson staring blankly at the mess on the ground and made her way over to him after she retrieved her gun from where it had landed.
"Are you alright?" When he didn't answer, she stepped closer and peered up into his eyes. The usually-brilliant emerald orbs were dulled and vacant. "Paladin Anderson?" He noticed her, looking down at her face for a moment, but still silent. "Alexander?" she tried again. He seemed to look right through her, but a moment later he smiled cheerfully.
"It's not often I get to see the same girl's chest twice in one day," he crowed. Integra blinked up at him before gasping and holding the collar to her gown shut again. He chuckled at her actions before his eyes narrowed. "Hey, I know you." He put one finger on her nose and pushed slightly with every word. "Integra. Fairbrook. Wingates. Hellsing." She slapped his hand away, realizing what was going on. Drunk on magic; the words flew back into her mind unbidden and she sighed heavily, understanding what she had to do.
"You're drunk. Come on; let's go back to the hotel." Anderson gave her a bewildered look that dissolved into anger.
"Hey!" he snapped, swaying as he tried to tower over her. "I am not drunk. I haven't drank in over-over 40 years now, so don't you start on me, lassie!" He swayed a moment longer before practically falling on top of her. She managed to hold him up with his arm flopped over her shoulders. "Whoa. The ground is shaking. Must be an earthquake or somethin'" he slurred and looked around.
"Just come on. We need to get to the hotel room, okay?" Integra hadn't ever dealt with any drunkards. She hoped that he wouldn't get too angry and start swinging at her, although in his current state she wasn't sure that it would do much damage. She started walking and to her relief he followed her, letting her guide him down the road.
"Ah, if you just wanted a little nip you coulda come out and said it. No need to be shy and all." He laughed in her ear, although she wasn't sure if there was an actual joke in his sentence or if he was simply laughing for the pleasure of it. She watched the countryside as they walked, wary of any more attacks by unseen forces. Now that she looked closely, she could see evidence of a battle. Just how long was he out here? If I was brought down by a small amount of exposure, what in the hell's going to happen to him?
Afterword: What indeed? I got Margaret Thatcher off of the manga, of course. I would have no idea who the spirit of Integra's gun is. I'd like to think the spirit of her sword is Uma Thurman. ^w^
