"I need you to focus, Green!" Sam hissed. "Stop crying and tell me, how far did you get with the investigation?"

"I-I-I don't know sir, I really don't-" Green's voice quickened after he finished stuttering 'I'.

Sam held up a hand. "Do you want to die today, Officer Green? Answer my question."

"I really don't know! I wasn't part of it; I had nothing to do with the entire investigation!"

"Don't try to claim your innocence! It won't make a difference!" Sam snarled and Green backed away. "Don't move," Sam growled.

"We had no leads or suspects for the Hellsing case," an officer chimed in from the corner of the room. Sam nodded in approval. Green looked nervously down the barrel of Sam's gun.

Sam picked up the file and searched the contents. There was a report on the day she went missing and there was a description of her, but that was all. Through all this, the gun pointed at Green stayed level.

"That's great." A good-natured smile cracked upon Sam's lips. "Thank you gentlemen!" Sam lowered his hand. Green breathed a sigh of relief.

An instant later the barrel of his gun was smoking. His hand was level with Green as if it had never moved. It took a few moments for Green to fall back after he was shot. As if in slow motion, Green looked down at his wound, slightly propelled backwards by the force of the bullet, and then crumbled.

Sam shot the man who spoke up earlier saying that they had no leads. His death was just a quick shot to the head.

People were starting to panic. As their eyes widened from dawning realization that they would not make it out alive, Sam shot them.

Nobody mistook the gleeful expression for a grimace or a regretful look, no. All of them clued in that this was merely entertaining him. They might as well have lined up in front of him so they could be shot. He fired once, twice, three times and let out a joyful sigh when he took down two people with one bullet.

"Put the gun down and put your hands on your head!" A commanding male voice shouted from behind him. He did exactly as the voice said, crouching down and placing his gun on the floor. Two officers rushed forewords to handcuff him.

"Just a minute," Sam said, shoving one of them away. "Just-just let me fix my pants. They're falling down." Sam grinned at an officer pointing a gun at him. "You know, I had to keep'em loose so I could get my gun easier."

Sam hitched up his pants. The officer looked stunned as his co-workers all of a sudden fell down in bleeding heaps.

Sam was twirling a bloody blade, and was advancing on the officer.

"You'd be better off putting that gun down," he suggested, but the officer ignored him.

"I'LL SHOOT YOU!" He cried, obviously trying to scare Sam away and save his life.

"Go ahead." Sam spread his arms apart. The officer squinted as he aimed for Sam's head, right between the eyes. Sam lunged foreword as the officer's finger tightened on the trigger. Sam was on one knee in front of the officer, his other leg stretched out behind him. Blood streamed onto his arm, and then dripped onto the floor. His hand was nearly lodged in the officer's stomach. Sam wrenched his hand out, along with his now crimson colored blade. He caught the officer from falling under the arms, holding him up.

He whispered in the officer's ear, his head so close that with every word the officer could feel Sam's lips moving.

"A gun wasn't the only weapon I had to hide." Sam let the officer fall, and the officer did so gracefully. His legs were folded underneath him, and his arms were splayed out as if he were anticipating an embrace. His vision was doubling now, and darkening around the edges. But the officer saw Sam's face as clear as he remembered kissing his wife goodbye that morning.

Sam grinned. His white teeth showed through the shadows concealing his face.

Sam stepped foreword with one leg. His foot was now resting on the officer's throat, and every moment that passed the pressure his foot was creating became greater.

"You were brave, officer," Sam said, his tone warm and almost regretful. "But now it's time for you to die." Sam lifted his foot off the officer's throat. The officer thought he would be free despite what Sam just said, but Sam's foot slammed back down onto the officer's throat with lightening speed.

More police officers shot at him, but the bodies on the floor continued piling up. Sam was covered in the blood of the others around him, not one drop of his own spilled.

It was like Sam was dancing. Graceful and light footed, Sam slashed throats, stabbed chests, eyes, and stomachs, and even held one man's head and decapitated him as if he was cutting through a stick of butter.

The police station was in a blood fest. Crimson liquid sprayed up in graceful arks with every slash of Sam's blade.

One officer had the common sense to run, but Sam caught him. He threw his blade across the room and struck the deserter in the back of the head, where a few feeble spurts of blood appeared like fireworks. The rest of the blood leaked down his back.

Sam ran across the room to retrieve his weapon. An older gentleman stepped in front of him, gun raised at eye level.

"Son, I'm going to take you in. You'll be lucky if you ever see daylight again."

"As will you." The officer took a moment to be puzzled by this remark and then fell backwards as Sam pounced on him. Sam grabbed the flesh of the elderly officer's stomach and ripped, taking uniform and flesh off.

The man shouted and pleaded, tears leaked off his face as he begged Sam to stop, but Sam continued ripping off the man's skin. He advanced higher up with every tear, diminishing the man's figure. Sam reached the man's throat and stopped. He listened to the man's breathing, shallow and wet sounding. The man's mouth was moving. Sam leaned down to hear. He still heard nothing so he leaned closer.

"You… are a demon…"

"That's right, sir." Sam closed his hand around the man's throat and pulled. Effortlessly the flesh came off and the neck broke. Sam leaned foreword again, burying his face in the man's blood. All commotion around him stopped as they watched him.

"What the hell are you doing!" Someone called from in front of him. Sam looked up. Another terrified officer stood in front of him. The officer dropped his gun, his hand twitching.

Sam licked his lips, and stood up. His eyes seemed to glow deep red, the color of old dried blood. He stood up to his full height, and towered over the officer (who was rather short anyways).

The officer fumbled inside his shirt for a moment and brought out a large silver cross.

Sam glared. The officer thrust it foreword.

"I know what you are!" The officer shouted. "You're a vampire!"

Sam tilted his head in a sideways nod, and said in an approving voice, "Not quite." The officer held his cross out and Sam felt immediate discomfort. Sam belted past him and retrieved his blade from the back of a head. He sprinted at the officer with the cross.

Seconds later, Sam was pulling his blade out of the officer's kidney. He stabbed him one more time around the liver. Sam ripped his blade out through the side of the officer, leaving the body nearly severed into two pieces.

Nobody else remained. Sam waltzed around, feeling superior; checking to make sure everyone was dead. But he did so quickly.

Sam pulled one body off the floor, and slung it around his shoulder. He had to work fast if someone in one of the offices had called an ambulance and some back-up. The media might very well be on the way as well.

Sam made a large incision down the middle of the body. He inserted his hand into the wound and brought out a dripping handful of blood.

Slapping it on the wall, he started smearing it. Eventually he ran out and had to reach in for more blood. He thought he heard sirens outside and hurried to finish.

Fifteen minutes (and two bodies) later, Sam admired his painting on a once-clean wall. He heard sirens again, and this time they weren't just in his head. He quickly made his way out of the building and out of sight.


Sam arrived back 'home' within ten minutes. He rushed into Integra's room. He hurried up to her and slapped her cheeks to wake her.

"Hey hey hey!" He exclaimed.

"What-" Integra started to say groggily but stopped. Her eyes widened. "Why are you covered in blood?"

"Sh sh shhhhh!" Sam made his way to the corner of the room. He pulled the tarp off of a large object, revealing a very dusty television. He turned it on to the news, where the picture wavered and then solidified.

The reporter was speaking of a murderer who massacred over twenty police officers. She looked sick standing amongst the bodies being cleaned up.

"If you have seen this man, call the police right away," she was saying. A side-view of Sam's head captured by a security camera showed in the corner of the screen.

"Now I'm officially a murderer and a kidnapper!" Sam exclaimed. "And guess what!" Sam pulled a cream-colored file out from his shirt and held it in front of Integra. "It's your missing person file!"

Integra's heart sunk. Anything they had on her, any helpful information was now in Sam's hand. And he wouldn't let it get back to them again.

She glanced over to the television, where the camera was zooming into a large symbol on the wall, painted there with blood. What she was seeing was no more than the pentagram she knew too well, the one that belonged on her servant.


Alucard was watching the camera zoom out of the pentagram. It couldn't be. The same sick person who kidnapped his master was now taunting him personally. Alucard clenched his fist into a tight ball. But he was grinning. Because now he knew what Integra's kidnapper looked like. He didn't look very tough; he looked just like a normal human. After every enemy he's faced before, another human would be nothing.