Yet another OC. This one is fully mine, and I admit…I'm rather proud of her. I think all I changed in this version of Chapter 9 was her hair color. That being said, I leave you to your reading. Enjoy.~
After what any decent bloodsucker would consider countless hours drearily wasted away by withering sunlight, dusk had finally arrived. It was a fairly acceptable dusk, perhaps not laced with enough cloud cover for those with a more delicate margin of light tolerance, affably murky enough to wake one up and get a good job going.
For one certain goal-oriented individual who had only recently taken to lurking around rural Great Britain, the job at hand was all that mattered; she certainly wasn't blue-blooded enough to get picky about light exposure in the later hours of the evening. The very idea of such complaints was ridiculous to her; to think, these stuffy-headed Europeans would turn their ancient noses up at a perfectly decent dusk! That was the better part of a good night, and they preferred to sleep it away. Still, considering the status of the target cottage's inhabitants, this petty preference could work to her favor.
The cottage in question, nestled in a conveniently exposed position atop a nearby hill that overlooked a generous field, matched a tourist's romanticized journal description of a cookie-cutter shepherd's hovel one would expect to find amidst the green of England's countryside. However, its silent surveyor knew that the barren nature of its immediate surroundings was far from convenient to her; she knew this because she was well-informed of the individuals this small house held. Not a one of those three military minds would be careless enough to risk such disclosure unless they had the means to defend their position. Somewhere, no matter how invisible, a guard of sorts was prowling, armed to the teeth and able to spot a threat approaching from any angle of the forest she now hid in.
A tight smile tugged at the lips of the newcomer. Two could play at the prowling game, and she had already determined that the dusk was her ally in this regard. Dropping lightly from the thirty-foot pine tree without breaking a single bone or twig, the superhuman surveyor drew a gray cloak around her shoulders before darting silently across the leafy forest threshold and out into the field.
By the time she approached the nearest cobbled wall, night had fallen in full force. It was a truly glorious night; clouds were beginning to gather, blotting out the obnoxious silver starlight and curling their ebony tendrils across the face of a blood-red moon. In contrast to its usual milky glow, this delightful moonlight was dull and eerie. It did nothing to effect the lovely darkness; the rusted mimicry of its rays only barely caught the tinges of her mahogany hair.
The air shifted in a slight breeze, bringing a fresh and welcome scent to the intruder's nostrils. The smell that would have shifted some sort of primal fear in the chests of other creatures merely caused her own silent heart to tighten in predatory anticipation. Vampires. They were inside the cottage, meaning that she had come to the right place.
"Gray."
The word, even though it was spoken in such a cold and deadly tone inside of her mind, wasn't enough to startle her; it was the ominous nature of the presence that invaded soon after which caused her to shudder, despite herself. Irritated, she projected her own thoughts:
"That's my name, Pumpkin. Was that really necessary? I'm trying to work here."
The Voice was unperturbed. "You'll never use that tone while addressing me again, if you value your own well-being."
"Yes, O Malicious Majesty. What can I do for you?"
Her sauciness earned her a mental pressure great enough to make her wince.
"Don't get carried away. I find it distasteful that there is a need to clarify the fact that no bloodletting is to be done tonight. We are well aware of your nature, but you had better be sure to make this kill as cleanly and quickly as possible."
"We? Is our multiple personality disorder kicking up again? Look, I'm a big girl now; I know what I'm doing, and I happen to be very good at my job. I already ate, so don't be getting all pushy and worrisome. You'll have your feast, and whatever twisted little benefits you hope to bring with it. I just don't get why you like your food cold; shouldn't I just bring her in alive?"
An explosive snarl spread like a wildfire of pain across her temple, and she fell to her knees.
"Just because you are without your shackles doesn't mean you're free of the whip, slave. You will kill, and you will bring your kill to me. Blood is blood, be it hot or cold, and I can't afford to spend time dirtying my hands. Now, tell me your charge, Gray."
Setting her jaw against the pain of her master's displeasure, the girl braced herself against the wall and stood.
"I will kill Integra Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing, and deliver her corpse as tribute of my undying loyalty to you, Ame."
She didn't receive an answer; the release of her throbbing mind was her reward and her confirmation to proceed. Once she had righted herself after the unsettling interview, the assassin known as Gray gave the crimson moon one last appreciative glance. An anticipatory smile split her lips, revealing ivory fangs.
Tonight truly is a perfect night.
Night had fallen, but trapped as she was in a resurgence of her memories, Integra Hellsing was having difficulty waking up.
Feeling uncharacteristically claustrophobic in her coffin, the silvery blond draculina shifted in agitation as her mind supplied her with a replay of the "lesson" she had been subjected to earlier that afternoon.
"If I do not sedate you, your subconscious will force you into a state of panic as a lower your human barriers."
Yumi's voice, as light and pleasant as ever, rang out clearly through the foggy myriad of regurgitated sensations and thoughts that had run rampant through Integra's mind as the process began.
Shut up…
Everything had been so loud all of a sudden…when had all of God's creatures made an agreement to scream their names at her, all at the same time?
I can't hear anything, there's so much everything going on…
Incoherent, she had tried to make sense of all the mental noise…to somehow distinguish even one of the sentient presences that had forced their ways into her mind's eye.
Everything is so alive…I feel so small and naked…
If she could see them, they could see her, right? Miserably, she remembered concluding that the sedative wasn't doing its job very well; her crazed attempts at structured thoughts were sure signs of panic.
Who are you? What are you? Stop looking at me! Shut up!
But then, Integra Hellsing had made sense of one of those many blights of life that Yumi had forced her to be aware of.
Something familiar…something dreadfully memorable…
Like a rabbit catching the distinctive scent of a fox, her mind had frozen before concocting memories relating back to this entity. Spanning all the way back to a childhood encounter in the basement of her father's mansion that would change her life forever, the common factor in all of these memories could only be…
"Vampire!"
Even waking up with that word sticking to her tongue like the remnants of a bad dream held reminiscent significance for Integra. The last time she had woken, practically screaming the name in her youthful terror, Alucard had been at her side almost immediately. This time, however…
There was someone sitting on the side of her coffin, but it certainly wasn't Alucard.
"Guilty as charged, dearie," purred the drably-clad woman. "I'm a vampire, through and through."
Before Integra could open her mouth to demand who the hell this catty intruder thought she was, a gloved hand clamped down on her jaw with bone-crushing pressure.
"So sorry for the inconvenience," the intruder continued in a matter-of-fact whisper. "I never meant to catch you awake, and now you're left with unanswered questions. I know I hate being left in the dark, but if it helps, you won't be around to wonder for long."
She was right, Integra realized as her vision started to fade. Despite the overall slenderness of her figure, this draculina was terrifyingly strong. Trapped in the confining walls of her coffin, there was no hope of wriggling out of whatever sort of grip she had been trapped in, and the vice-like fingers crushed against her mouth made it impossible to call for help. If this girl was an assassin, she was in the perfect position to do her work well.
But what sort of assassination could be performed on a vampire…?
Integra's numbed but clinging question was answered almost immediately as, with her free hand, the assassin pulled out a fistful of long and lethal-looking needles. They shone dully in the red moonlight, and Integra didn't need the sudden chill in her veins or the sick clawing at her stomach to realize what her experience in a past life had long since taught her:
These needles had been blessed with holy silver. They meant death to even the strongest vampire.
