A/N: Ok, this was a long time coming, put I hope that it was worth it. I'm putting a lot more time and effort into this version than the old one, and I hope it shows. I'd like to thank my beta reader (you know who you are) and all of you who have been so very patient with me. Enjoy the blood of the long-delayed "first mission!"
Disclaimer: I don't own Hellsing. So don't bitch, Kohta Hirano
January 28
I was amazed at how calm I was as I walked out of the woods, past the puzzled soldiers, and into the sub basement. It wasn't until Seras caught me going into my room that I felt anything more than a dull resignation. She scrambled over me like a concerned mother, checking to see if my wounds had healed alright, and once she decided I wasn't going to die, demanded to know what had happened. I held out on her, but she already knew who was behind it. I begged her not to make a scene about it, but she wouldn't have any of it. She stomped off to Alucard's room shouting his name at the top of her lungs. From inside my room, I heard echoes of her shouting, and a few cocky murmurs from Alucard, but after about ten minutes, it was all over. I should be grateful that she was willing to defend me like that, but somehowall I feel is shame.
I can't place it, but all of this feels very familiar to me, like a dream that you swear you've had before, or a street you've walked down several times but still can't remember its name.
What happened to me in the woods, as Alucard was leaving? It's all a blur. I didn't even see myself do it; one minute I was on the floor bleeding and shuddering in pain, the next, my hand was mingling with Alucard's guts. What door in me had opened and closed, so fast that didn't even get to see what was on the other side? I'm not sure I want to know.
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"Sir Integra," began Walter, with his practiced smooth formality. "I've completed the surveillance on Mr. Rivers you requested, as well as the report on his background prepared by your American colleague, Mr. Grayson."
Integra cut the end of her cigar and raised it to her lips. "And your results?"
"Disconcerting, and frankly, a bit baffling. I'll begin with the surveillance report: observation of the subject's behavior show no signs ulterior motives in working for the Hellsing Organization. The subject is seldom idle in the time between his Master's training; in fact, he makes a concerted effort to occupy himself as productively as possible. He rises early, goes to the shooting range, reads texts divulging Hellsing's history and research in combating undead, and when he's not doing either of those, he is journaling. It must be noted that when doing all of these things, even journaling, the subject will consistently stay within plain view of the soldiers or staff, usually in the library. The only thing he does alone, it seems, is sleep."
"No doubt a result of Alucard's little 'game' last week." Integra mused, taking her first drag of the cigarillo she'd been holding.
Immediately after Seras reported Alucard's actions, Integra confined him to his coffin for the remainder of the week, and relieved him from his responsibility of training Rivers until further notice. Preparing the fledgling was one thing, torturing and humiliating him was another. But Alucard had always had a way of 'interpreting' her orders, and that made him unpredictable, even dangerous. Her unwilling servant had to be reminded of his place at times.
"Actually, this tendency was observed even before that incident." Walter paused and furrowed a brow, as though making an important judgment. "Rather strange, in a way."
"'Strange' how?"
"Well, to put it simply, his entire life was just destroyed less than a month ago, and as far as can be gathered, he hasn't shed a tear. He behaves as though his old life never existed, and accepts his role without any apparent reservations. One may conclude however, that keeping himself busy is the only way he knows to deal with his situation. Furthermore, Rivers has not commented on the incident with Alucard, or even uttered a single word of complaint. Perhaps the report on Rivers' background would provide some insight into this."
"Go on," urged Integra with unseen interest.
"Well, first of all, River's family originally consisted of himself, his father, William, his mother, who died of a heroin overdose shortly after his birth and an older sister, Ciel. William would later die in a car crash due to intoxication, however, neither Jake nor his sister were present or even living with their father at the time."
Integra cut off her drag midway, and took the cigar out of her mouth. "Then where were they?"
"In Grandville, a farming town in northern California. It is believed that they ran away from home and William, not the model father, neglected to report them missing."
"So then, if Rivers' sister did not die in the car crash, then how did she meet her end?"
"This is where he begins his file with The Foundation."
Integra's eyes widened ever so slightly. "The Foundation...and what would our fellow hunters know about Rivers?"
Walter looked up from the paper. "More than he knows about himself, I'd wager."
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The armored car rumbled and shook as it passed over the rough dirt road. The soldiers on board were muttering to each other about how many more kills they'd get than the other. Some shot tentative glances at Jake, and for the first time, he didn't notice.
Because, to be perfectly honest, he was just too damned excited.
Of all the emotions he was expecting to feel—nervousness, anxiety, fear—excitement certainly wasn't one of them. There was a strange stirring in his blood, as if it eagerly awaited what was coming. He'd memorized Integra's every word in the briefing as it were a bible passage:
"The target is a FREAK chip-enhanced creature named Arthur Langston. He is currently in Inner city London, holed up in a block of flats called 'Bridgewater,' with a minimum estimate of four dozen ghouls. The objective is the same as always: search and destroy. If just one ghoul makes it out of that block, the infection could spread to the whole inner-city in a matter of hoursAny questions?"
Jake had perked up and asked what he thought was a proper question. "What do we do if we find any survivors, Sir?"
Snickers erupted in the room. Integra silenced them with a dire stare and said: "Trust me Rivers, you won't."
Jake counted time by repeating the briefing over and over, clutching his large-caliber rifle in his hands like a teddy bear. He tried and failed to suppress a nervous tick in his knee. If he had a pulse, it would be all over the place.
"Amped up?" said Seras in his mind. She was looking at him with a mix of motherly adoration and a bit of anticipation herself.
"Yeah, I guess..." the soldiers gave him strange looks, and he realized that he'd spoken out loud. He still wasn't totally used to the whole telepathy thing, and at times he wondered just how open his mind was to Seras. Or Alucard, for that matter.
"Yeah" he said uncertainly,"I can't figure out why, but I'm totally wired."
"Well, that's..." she was about to explain something, then trailed off a second, searching for the right word "...natural. I mean, this is your first mission and all." She didn't seem very sure of herself as she said that, and she clearly was about to say something else, but Jake let it go. She was probably more nervous about this than even he was; her good name was in his hands right now. It was just another reason that he couldn't fail.
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Seras looked back at her gun, asking herself if there was anything she forgot to teach him. On the surface, he seemed ready, but she knew that he was already thinking of how many ways this could go wrong. She had faith in him. It was herself that she was worried about. Something was nagging at her, something important, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't put her finger on what it was. His and her equipment was stocked and fully loaded; she made sure of that. She had trained him as best she could, and with all the reading he had been doing between sessions, he wasn't short on knowledge of his enemy. With that eager expression on his face, he probably wasn't about to hesitate either.
What the bloody hell am I so worried about?
She looked at Jake, sitting across from her, shoulder to shoulder with others of Hellsing's finest. It never struck her just how young he was until then. With his moderate height and skinny frame, he looked incredibly small sitting next to a bunch of grizzled soldiers, like a child even. True, Seras herself didn't fit right in either, but at least she looked to be the right age.
It's never going to change, either. She thought grimly.
The armored car coasted to a stop and everyone started bailing out into the alleyway, and Seras stopped Jake just short of the door. He gave her a questioning look.
"Stick close, ok?"
He nodded eagerly and Seras turned to give her orders in a stern, resolute voice. "Squad A will divide into two teams: myself and Rivers will go up the fire escape into the third floor. Mick, you'll lead the rest through the main entrance. Squad B already has the other two exits covered. The vamp will either have to go up to escape you or down to escape us."
"Squeeze the bastard in between us..." said Mick, "You got it, ma'am. And kid," He said with a friendly wink, "Try to leave a few for us, eh?"
Jake gave a shy smile, they went their separate ways.
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Jake cycled his rifle and tried to keep his footsteps as quiet as he could, so as not to alert their quarry. With one leap, Seras cleared the first floor and landed on the fire escape as softly as a fallen leaf. She motioned for him to follow, and Jake tentatively followed, first hopping onto a closed dumpster, and landed on the fire escape so clumsily he was amazed it hadn't collapsed. If the entire complex hadn't been dead already, the ramshackle crash and creak of strained metal should have woken them all up.
So much for the element of surprise.
"Don't worry." Seras soothed mentally, "This guy's got only two ways out, and both are covered. Even if he takes to the streets, he'll get mowed down by Squad C."
For the second time that night, he wondered if Seras was reading him or just knew him too well. They were ascending the steps to the third floor as quietly as they could manage, when Jake felt movement coming from the bottom. He looked down and saw two figures: a little boy and a teenaged girl. The grating made it impossible to make out details, but he could hear them speaking.
The little boy was crying as he said, "I don't wanna go back! He's gonna hurt me, I know it!"
The girl was kneeling down, with her hands on the boy's shoulders. "It's ok, Jake. He probably fell asleep in front of the TV again. He won't even hear us coming."
"But what if he does?" the boy sobbed.
"Then I'll keep you safe. I promise."
"Jake...Jake!"
Jake snapped his head upward to see Seras with a hurried look on her face. "Come on Jake, what's the matter?"
"There was..." He looked down, but the boy and girl were gone. Had he imagined it?
"There was what?" insisted Seras, her patience drawing thin.
Jake shook his head and mumbled a quick "never mind," and crept up the steps. He shoved aside any questions and crawled through the broken window into the bedroom.
The smell was overpowering by the time he was halfway inside. Like abstract art, blood was dashed on the whitewashed walls in jagged lines. By the stains on the window, it was clear that whoever had died here had tried to escape and failed. There was even a smattering on the bulb of an overturned lamp, still sizzling like frying bacon. His stomach turned, but to his chagrin, it wasn't in disgust. He gripped his rifle a little tighter. He had just fed less than four hours ago, why was this making him hungry?
Seras took point, kicking the door to splinters. It was just as well; stealth was moot at this point. Jake trailed closely behind, the right while Seras scanned the left. More red streaks were finger-painted down the hall; stencils of people's last horrible moments of living. But there were no bodies. At least, not yet.
Gunfire popped from two floors down. Squad A was already engaged. On cue, the doors on either side of them were smashed, and slavering groans resounded into the hallway.
Here were the true victims; the slaves, the mindless, the ghouls. Empty shells of men and women on invisible strings pulled by whatever vampire decided it would be more fun to play with their leftovers instead of letting them die with a scrape of dignity.
What kind of monster would take pleasure in such a thing?
He would find the answer sooner than he expected.
Jake quieted his mind and raised his rifle to toward the stairs, while Seras had his back. He aimed for the head of the first ghoul, a stocky man in plaid pajamas with half his face torn off and hanging from his cheek like a potato skin. The sight was on its head, his finger was on the trigger, the safety was off...
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The nagging feeling was coming back again, and suddenly she realized what she forgot.
Idiot! She screamed in her mind. I didn't think of how to act in the field!
It was something she never had any reason to think about until now. She was his master; Jake looked to her to see how to act as both a vampire and a soldier of Hellsing. She'd been developing the tendency to just cut loose on her enemies, but was that the example she wanted to set for her fledgling?
No, she decided. He wasn't ready for that just yet, and bloodlust was something that had to be kept in check if he was going to work with human soldiers. Besides, it didn't seem in his nature to gravitate toward that sort of thing. At least, she didn't think so.
Control, that's what she would teach. Learning to harness bloodlust would come much later, when he was more used to his vampiric nature.
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Jake cursed himself inwardly. Seras had already fired three shots, all kills. This was the moment he'd been waiting for, his big chance, and now he was hesitating and this bloated corpse was lumbering closer to him by the second
Just pull the trigger! he screamed at himself, Pull the god damn—
And just like that, the muzzle flashed. He wasn't even sure he meant for it to happen, but it did. The fat ghoul's head from the jaw up was completely gone. It dropped to the floor in a heap, causing another skinnier one behind it to trip. It was so easy...but why should that surprise him?
"Nice shot, keep it up!" called Seras.
"Uh, right!" he called back.
Another shot on the one that tripped, no resistance this time. Its brains flew in all directions, adding fresh stains on the wall; some even catching in his uniform. Another blew through midsection of some suit, cutting him in half. He finished that one off with a blast to the heart. Every time he pulled the trigger and saw another ghoul fall to pieces, he felt an unusual swelling in his chest; an exhilaration unlike any he had before. The shows he used to do with his friends were nothing compared to this: his instrument was his gun, the only audience he had were those who fell before him, their applause came in the sounds of their bones shattering and flesh tearing. His blood boiled with anticipation as more ghouls appeared shambling up the stairs, doubtless driven there by Squad B. A crash of broken glass came from behind Jake as he aimed for the heart of another festering meat-puppet.
"He's flown the coup!" shouted Seras, "Can you hold your own here?"
"I'll be fine!" he shouted without turning back; perhaps a little more than fine.
He heard Seras dash for the window at the end of the hallway, and Jake went back to work. He was in the middle of switching magazines when one ghoul tried to creep up behind him, and he decided it was time to give the rifle a break. He brought a foot down on the creature's knee, snapping it backwards with a sound that reminded him of popcorn kernels in fast forward. It groaned coarsely and collapsed, its head right inside the doorway. Jake suddenly got an idea. He grabbed the door and slammed it on the ghouls head, smashing it between the door and the frame. The first time didn't make it stop wriggling, so he did it again. The door shattered on the third slam as the ghoul's head finally gave completely, revealing another ghoul. Jake brought the butt of his weapon against its chin. It fell backward into a dresser laden with pictures and a large mirror on top. Jake loaded in the last magazine and shoved the barrel of the rifle into the ghoul's mouth, smashing through its teeth, and pulled the trigger. The contents of its head splashed onto the mirror, and in it, Jake could make out a pair of beaming red eyes and razor-thin smile.
Alucard?
The blood ran down the mirror a little more, and Jake realized it wasn't Alucard he was looking at. It was himself.
He looked down at the bloodstained, broken pictures: two redheaded girls that must have been the daughters or nieces of this degraded husk of a man that lay headless before him. The question he asked himself before echoed in his mind again.
What kind of monster would take pleasure in such a thing?
The rifle fell from his hands. His skull suddenly felt as if someone had parked a garbage truck on it. An incoherent scream resounded in his head, a girl's voice, but he couldn't hear what it was saying. Images flashed in front of his eyes: a bloodstained bed, a tunnel with the light closing, and a shadow standing in a doorway. That horrible feeling from that night in the woods returned, his heart began that impossible beat again, the hot lead surging through his veins. He felt like he was dangling on the edge of a bottomless pit.
And then he felt a hand on his shoulder. His heart stopped its agonizing pulsing, his head quieted, his needless breathing returned to normal.
"Are you ok?" said Seras.
"Yeah," he said slowly, "I'm fine."
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