The afternoon sun beat down upon the Sam, forcing him to stick to the shadows.
He was walking in an old yet fairly busy neighbourhood, and here he had been pacing back and forth, throwing people unforgiving glares.
This was definitely the site where the action would start happening. He just had to wait for the right time.
Waiting is essential, he told himself, his impatience growing. These people were begging to die, every last one of them.
The job would not be done right if he was hasty, though.
So Sam patiently waited, pacing back and forth.
Sam was sent sprawling after a man bumped into him. He held his hand out to Sam and apologized over and over. Sam grasped the man's hand and pulled himself up. This man unknowingly volunteered himself to begin the days events.
"Uh, sir?" Sam addressed the man, trying to seem timid.
"Yes, m'boy?" The man asked after an interrupted apology.
"Uh, well I was wondering if you could tell me, uh, where I am… I'm a tourist, um, and I'm lost… Could you, maybe, help?" Sam had to refrain from grinning. This was going to be too easy.
"Ah yes, a tourist! Then let me help you, m'boy!" Sam waited patiently as the stranger gave Sam directions that he didn't really need, while shifting his weight onto a different leg every few seconds.
"Something wrong, m'boy?"
"No sir," Sam replied, his pretend interest dropping. "All though I do wish you would shut the fuck up old chap!" Sam shouted in a horrible imitation of the strangers' accent.
The man stared, astounded.
"There we go! Time to have some fun!" Sam exclaimed gleefully. He gave the stranger a square kick in the stomach, sending him sprawling into the middle of the road. Sam hurried over to him, brandishing his blade as he approached him.
"Now old boy, you ready to serve your purpose?" The man stared blankly up at him, trying to comprehend why a tourist would be trying to kill him.
"Of course you're not you big, fat, dope." With every emphasized word Sam stabbed the man. Each time Sam drew his arm back in a high arc above his head, he showered himself with crimson rain.
Soon enough, the man was as good as dead, although he was so deformed that he could hardly be called a man anymore.
A crowd was drawn behind Sam. He could hear the chatter and the judgmental voices, both behind him and in his head.
Sam turned quickly on his heels to face the crowd. A woman in the front gasped at the blood-speckled figure. Sam took a large step foreword, so that his face was inches from hers.
"You're surprised?" He said in a barely audible tone. "Well, get used to this face because it will be the last one you see before you die." Sam's blade cut through the woman's throat as if through air.
"Does anyone else want some?" he called to the crowd.
Shocked silence filled the tense air. Another woman, this one in the back, shrieked. Then the shocked silence was broken and the chaos began. People pushed and shoved one another to try and get away from the blood-covered madman that stood before them. But he only scoped the crowd and smiled. Disorganization was all he wanted. Because in a disorganized crowd, it would be difficult to see your killer come after you.
A young man was running past Sam, and Sam only had to hold out his arm for the blade to cut across the man's throat and send him to the ground, throat spurting blood.
The next moments seemed to go by in a blur. Sam couldn't remember killing half of the bodies that lay before him.
Sam cut open a body and took a fairly large gulp of blood. He raised his head when he heard crying. Adolescent crying
Sam looked around, as if a dog trying to catch a scent in the air. His eyes came across a young girl, curled up and blood soaked.
"What is this?" Sam whispered. He got up from his knees and walked over to the girl, kicking bodies out of the way as he did so.
Her eyes widened as she saw the bloodstained figure standing before her. His eyes were boring down on her, almost reading her mind.
"Hello," he said casually, but the girl didn't hear. She only saw his mouth move, the teeth behind those bloody lips stained red.
Sam sat next to her, legs crossed as if sitting in his own home.
"Sit up," he said softly, but somewhere in those words it was a command. The girl did as she was told, wiping a tear off her face as she did so.
She sat on her legs, uncomfortable and unsure of what was going to happen to her.
"Do you love your life?" he asked softly, making a small drawing in the blood seeping from a nearby body.
She nodded her head.
"Family?"
Again, she nodded her head.
"Tell me what they're like," he whispered softly.
"I have two b-brothers and an older sister. And so many c-c-cousins-"
She was taken aback when the man threw her back so she was laying down, the sun temporarily blinding her.
"Your family can do without you," the man hissed and he drove his blade into her ribs. She screamed in pain and terror, giving the man plenty of satisfaction. He pulled his blade out and stabbed her again and again. He made himself comfortable on the girl's stomach, with one leg on each side of her. Still his stabbing continued, regardless of the sirens sounding in the background coming closer with every stab.
The sound of a slamming vehicle door brought him to his senses. He got up and wheeled around to face a group of people, all of which were pointing guns at him.
They ordered him to put the weapon down, and Sam did so. He raised his hands above his head and an officer approached him to check for more weapons.
"You got me. Bravo!" Sam casually said to the officer. Sam cackled as he was handcuffed. "I never thought I would finally be the one in handcuffs! I can't say I particularly enjoy the experience…"
Sam hopped into the police van, all too willfully. So cooperatively, in fact, that the officers were becoming edgy.
"Come on! I can hardly stand the suspense!" Sam shouted theatrically. His voice was slightly muffled to the policemen outside the van, but still very audible.
None of them wanted to spend the ride with the maniac presently sitting in the back of the van. But that was not a choice. They finally had the man who had killed a multitude of people, and he would be brought to justice.
Eventually, they began heading towards the police station.
Walter received the call around midday. The police had informed him that they had finally caught Integra's kidnapper after he slaughtered nearly thirty people.
"We're holding him for questioning," they notified Walter. They were holding this man just for them to witness the questioning. How kind.
The Hellsing organization was getting desperate. Without their leader, they could hardly function properly. Now they could finally have her location and get her back.
Walter considered waking Alucard, then decided against it. This was the first time Alucard seemed to really settle down since Integra's disappearance.
Walter decided to contemplate the situation to pass the time. He had a sick feeling that the kidnapper may not give the location of where he was keeping Integra. Another sick feeling wound itself into his thoughts. She could be dead.
And then there was the matter that this kidnapper was caught so easily this time. He had put up a fight at the police station and had won, as if it was a game. So why was this time different? Why-
Alucard stepped out of the shadows and he addressed Walter formally.
"Alucard, the police phoned not too long ago and informed me that they caught the man who kidnapped Sir Integra."
Alucard advance upon Walter.
"You didn't feel the need to tell me this?" he roared.
They spent the next few minutes arguing.
Soon, both of them ran out of patience. Walter sighed and said, "They said we can be present during his questioning."
"Then what are we waiting for, Walter? Let's go!" Alucard whirled around when Seras Victoria approached and asked, "Master, what's happening?"
"The police have the bastard who kidnapped my Master," Alucard growled. "Let's go Walter."
