A/N: MarzBarz has had a rough week, so this chapter is especially for her! I hope you enjoy it. This is the REAL calm before the storm, lol.
Thirteen
It was the same old story.
A new place. New surroundings. New room. New air, even. Anderson found it virtually impossible to sleep, especially with the information that he was nearly a mile underground. It was just too weird. He hadn't slept well in days. He just couldn't relax in an unfamiliar place. He was always on edge. If something like this happened back home, he'd pick up a book or two and read until he felt drowsy. He couldn't really do that here. Well, maybe he could. He had some money with him. Maybe he could find a book or two in town. Of course, that meant possibly having to tolerate one of the vampires accompanying him for protection against any threats from Maxwell. He couldn't believe how low he'd sunk; accepting help from vampires, Wynter especially. She was the one vampire besides Alucard that he wanted to kill almost more than anything. Of the two, he definitely preferred Wynter because she was less irritating. He couldn't stand Alucard's taunts and complete and utter indifference toward God. It was just too much for Anderson to take more often than not. So while Alucard seemed to be a total atheist, Wynter appeared more agnostic. He supposed he could tolerate it. At least she acknowledged God's existence.
He froze, suddenly. What was that? A faint...screaming? He got to his feet and moved toward the door, frowning. He opened it up and stepped out. There was no doubt about it; a horrid scream was echoing up through the hallways from the lower levels. More curious than concerned, he made his way toward the source, descending the steps and turning the corner just in time for the other fledgling, Seras, to literally run into him and fall backward in shock. She grumbled to herself and looked up. She blanched and a shrill squeak left her throat, "A-Anderson!" she exclaimed, "What are you doing down here?"
"Ah thought Ah heard something," he answered, "Screaming,"
"Well, yes, it's Wynter, again," Seras said in exasperation and worry, "Lately, she's been having horrible nightmares. It's dangerous to wake her up, or even to be in the vicinity, so Alucard told me to just get out of the basement when it happens,"
Anderson frowned, "Dangerous?"
Seras nodded, "Yes," she said nervously, "She nearly sliced my head off when I tried to wake her the first time. Her eyes were open and she seemed awake, but she wasn't...well, her anymore. She was yelling things in another language. It was eerie,"
"What language?" Anderson asked.
"I think it was either French or Italian," Seras said. Anderson started a bit at the mention of the second one. Living in Italy, he understood and spoke quite a bit of fluent Italian.
"Why doon't ye take meh doown there?" he suggested grimly, "Ah'd like tae check this oot faur mehself,"
Seras sighed, giving him a look suggesting stupidity, "Do you have a death wish? Wynter may act idiotic and carefree sometimes, but she's as scary as Alucard is," she said wearily.
"What kind o' fool dae ye take meh faur!" Anderson snapped. Seras winced and laughed sheepishly, "Point taken. Follow me," she said, feeling as though she'd just lost thirty years of her nearly unlimited lifespan.
The screaming grew louder and more pronounced as they drew closer to the corridor where Seras, Alucard, and Wynter's respective rooms were. Anderson felt a sense of unease as he followed the clearly anxious Draculina until she finally stopped. She pointed forward toward the door where the screams were loudest, "That's where she is," she said, "But I really don't recommend going there. She managed to decapitate Alucard a few days ago and you know as well as I do that that's no easy task. It was enough to teach him to stay away from her during this,"
"Hoo long has this been happening?" Anderson asked.
"She's been here about a week, but Sasha says it's been happening for almost a while, now, since her wings came back in faster than they should have,"
Wynter's voice could be heard screaming something in what Anderson believed was distinct Italian; " Mio dio, e morta! Hanno ucciso lei! Hanno ucciso lei! E morta!"
"It is Italian," he said. Seras looked up at him curiously, "So then what's she saying?"
"She's saying that someone is deid," he said, "That 'she was killed',"
Seras looked back toward the door and shrieked as something was suddenly hurled against it, the metallic clang echoing loudly through the halls. Anderson whipped out two bayonets as the door was hurled open. Seras dove to the side and watched, wide-eyed as Wynter stumbled out, eyes wild and blazing in pure, unbridled fury. Her gaze landed on Anderson and she let out a feral snarl, "Sei stato colui che ha ucciso lei?" she hissed in a voice that didn't seem to be her own. Anderson faltered at the unusual question. He scowled and brandished his weapons warningly, "Nae, Ah dinnae kill anyone o' yers," he answered in Italian, wondering whether or not it was a good thing that Wynter was targeting him in her sleep. Was it even possible for this to happen to vampires?
"Bugiardo! Tu hai ucciso lei!"
"Ah'm no' lying," Anderson insisted. Wynter shook her head, slumping against the wall as she started crying hysterically, "Chi allora? Chi l'ha uccisa? La mia bambina...la mia bambina..."
Wynter curled into a ball against the wall, sobs wracking her body as she seemingly fell back into a deep sleep, finally falling silent after a few minutes. Anderson sighed and replaced the bayonets into his coat, staring down at the vampire who now appeared peacefully asleep and unaware of the entire situation.
Seras staggered to her feet and made her way over, "So what was all that?" she asked, "I didn't even know Wynter could speak Italian, and so fluently at that,"
"Ye'd be surprised at ae vampire's talents as they groo old, little girl," Anderson replied, "Ah've go' nae idea what she was talking aboout, though,"
"What was she saying?" Seras asked.
"She was saying that she thought Ah killed ae child, ae small girl, from the soounds o' it. She wanted tae know who did, if no' mehself,"
"That's kinda confusing," Seras mumbled with a sigh. She blinked in surprise when Wynter began to stir suddenly, moaning and sitting up with a yawn. She glanced blearily up at the two of them and tilted her head, "Hm? What are you two doing down here? Oh jeez, don't tell me I've been sleepwalking again," she said as she stumbled to her feet.
"Wynter," Seras said uncertainly, "Do you mean to say that you don't remember?"
Wynter brushed her hair from her eyes, "Well of course not. Sleepwalkers tend not to remember whatever they did come morning for some reason, though I don't recall ever sleepwalking much before," she said ponderously. She shrugged, "Oh well. I'm going back to sleep," she said, turning to go back into her room, pausing only to peer at the crushed bucket lying on the floor amidst scattered, broken bits of furniture. Seras stepped forward, "Wait, Wynter," she called. Wynter turned, smiling, "Yes?"
"Um, by any chance, do you know how to speak Italian?"
Wynter frowned at such an interesting question. She shook her head, "No, I'm afraid I don't speak a word of it," she said, "Why?"
Seras blanched, but shook her head, "Oh, just curious, no reason," she finished lamely. Wynter frowned curiously, but returned to her chamber. Before she shut the door, she glanced at Anderson, "I really hope you're staying out of trouble," she growled. She shut the door and locked it as Anderson scowled, "And what did she mean by that?" he growled. Seras giggled, "Well, I guess that's that, then. If you'll excuse me, I'll be going to my room, now," she said, whirling and hurrying away down the hall. Anderson stared after her, shaking his head in bewilderment. He glanced back at the door one final time, slightly apprehensive, and then turned and headed back up the corridor toward where his own temporary residence was. But he knew he still wasn't going to get any sleep.
It was going to be a long night.
/ooo/
The following day, Wynter seemed to remember absolutely nothing of the night before, not even of waking up in the hallway and of Seras asking whether or not she could speak Italian. Wynter told her that she didn't even remember how to speak French, her mother tongue, much less a language she'd never even heard spoken correctly before.
So Sasha found Seras in the shooting range, working off her frustration by breaking in a new sniper rifle, a Blaser R93 with custom ammunition that Walter had specifically designed for that gun. Sasha stood beside Seras for an entire five minutes before she was noticed.
"I guess you're upset," Sasha pointed out as Seras lowered the gun to remove the empty cartridge. Seras sighed, "Yes, you could say that. Wynter had another nightmare last night and Anderson was present for it. At least now we know what she's been saying,"
"Why? Don't tell me he speaks Italian?" Sasha exclaimed. Seras gave her 'the look', "Sasha, he lives in Italy. I'd hope he can speak the local language," Seras said.
"But he's clearly Scottish," Sasha protested. She shook her head, "No, no, no, that's not even on the subject! So I guess she started ranting in Italian again, huh? And let me also guess that she claims she can't speak Italian,"
"I don't think it's a simple claim, Sasha," Seras said, firing off twelve bursts, "She can't even remember how to speak French, the language she grew up learning. That, and she told me she's never been to Italy, at least not until a few weeks ago,"
"She could have learned it on the sly," Sasha suggested.
"Wouldn't you have noticed?" Seras asked. Sasha hummed, "I guess you're right," she mumbled. Seras sighed, "Listen, why do you keep doubting her? Even if she could speak it, why would she want to freak us out like this? I'll bet that she herself doesn't even know what she's saying or why she's doing it in the first place,"
Across the room, hidden outside the door, Wynter stared at the floor gloomily. Her own best friend had no faith in her. She sighed and moved away from the door. She'd been intending to find Seras and apologize for whatever she did, but she figured there was no point.
"What's wrong with me?" she whispered, "Why am I doing this?"
/ooo/
Integra frowned at a stack of reports to her left and then to a London newspaper to her right.
"This is bad," she muttered.
"Madam?" Walter asked. Integra sighed and glanced up, handing him the newspaper, "Read the first article beneath the cover story," she said, rubbing her eyes beneath her glasses. Walter took the paper and adjusted his own glasses, frowning. He cleared his throat, "Ahem...'First local news of London Times: three families slaughtered in own homes'," he read aloud, " 'London police have begun an investigation into the murders of a single prestigious family and their neighbors, perpetrated at an estimated time of one to three in the morning. The details have not been disclosed to the public due to the graphic nature of the slayings. Police have sent four investigators to the nearby regions in hopes of discovering and apprehending the killer before he strikes again',"
Walter handed back the paper and Integra gave him the report on the top of the stack. Walter scanned through it, his brow furrowing as he did, "Sir Integra, is this what I think it is?" he asked.
"It is. It's a report from our Vatican intelligence officer, Mr. Burns. He said that around nine o clock last night, a helicopter was seen leaving the vicinity of Rome, heading toward London. Mr. Burns confirmed that three Vatican agents not of Iscariot and two children were on board the aircraft. The helicopter returned to the Vatican at around nine this morning,"
"So you're suggesting that the Vatican is behind these attacks?" Walter said.
"I'm not suggesting, Walter, I'm confirming. I have another report here from the chief of police. It describes the killings in detail. Whatever did this was most definitely human, Walter. In the very least, a modified human, maybe two, maybe three. The number doesn't matter. What does matter is the single thing that all three families have in common, which makes me suspicious of this attack,"
"And what's that?"
"All three families were Protestant. The first family killed were Protestant evangelists, often making trips to other nations to try to bring others into our fold, a practice I don't particularly approve of," Integra said, reaching for a cigar and lighting it, "From what I understand, the majority of their travel was made to Rome. I suspect that that's what caught the Vatican's attention,"
"So then, I'm assuming that this is the reason a Round Table conference has been called?"
"Yes," Integra replied, "It's been decided to hold the meeting here. We'll be deciding what to do about this new threat and hopefully, bring this to a resolution before too many more people are killed,"
"I see," Walter said grimly, "And what of the paladin?"
"What about him?" Integra asked irritably.
"Is it possible he may be more aware of the situation than he appeared to be?"
"It's possible. However, seeking information from that menace is a little more than I can stomach," Integra grumbled, squinting.
"I understand entirely, Sir Integra," Walter said with a chuckle, "And I'm sure the feeling is mutual on all accounts. Since Wynter is the only one who seems able to tolerate him, I'll speak to her about it,"
"Hm," Integra mumbled.
But Wynter couldn't be found that day. According to Alucard, he'd sensed her presence flying over the Hellsing mansion several hours earlier before wheeling south and vanishing. He supposed she'd gone to the ocean to think. She couldn't fly over it, but she often enjoyed staring at it.
Walter stood within the aged vampire's darkened chamber, watching him solemnly. Alucard could barely be seen in the dim light, although this light served him perfectly. Alucard's eyes flickered in the darkness, "Something is troubling her, Walter," he said with an eerie sense of anticipation.
"And what might that mean?"
"I've heard her on several occasions since she came back here," Alucard told him, "Ranting in a language she herself possesses no knowledge of how to speak. Talking about the death of a mysterious child and lamenting its loss, attacking without warning. I believe that something may have gotten a hold of her,"
Walter's eyes widened, "You're saying she's been possessed?" he exclaimed.
"Possibly. It's been a while since I ran across wayward spirits. They're rare, but not unheard of," he explained, "They possess humans all the time, Walter, simply because the typical human mind is far too weak to resist. On occasion, they'll attach to a vampire during periods of rest. This may or may not be the case with Wynter,"
He removed his glasses, twirling them around his finger absently, "But then again," he said ponderously, "Perhaps this is a different case altogether,"
"What do you mean?"
"Come now, Walter, don't tell me you don't know about the workings of spirits," Alucard said. Walter grinned wryly, "You know very well I specialized in vampires, Alucard. Spirits were never my forte,"
"A wise choice. Of the two, I'd have to say vampires are far more manageable," Alucard said, "In this case, perhaps Wynter may already have been housing a spirit and for some reason, a catalyst of sorts caused it to awaken prematurely. Perhaps it was the abnormally fast regrowth of her wings. Perhaps it was the formation of the cabal. Or perhaps it even had something to do with Anderson suddenly prioritizing her death above all else. There's no way of knowing what caused it short of asking the spirit itself during a complete possession. And of course, we'd need Anderson to translate, apparently," he said with a chuckle.
"I take it that means you don't know Italian either," Walter said wearily.
"I know about three words, maybe four. I never had much of an appetite for languages," Alucard said with a shrug.
"You don't seem incredibly concerned about Wynter,"
"Wynter spent over two decades enduring unimaginable torture, Walter. I endured two decades exactly in simple hibernation. Wynter knows my motto; never give in. She spent a long time living by that motto, apparently for the sole purpose of meeting me again, just to convince herself that with our declining species number, she wasn't alone in the world. Vampires may be solitary for the most part, but it's only natural for members of a species to seek out kin, Walter,"
"You're hedging, Alucard," Walter said bemusedly. The vampire chuckled, "So I am," he said, "But you understand my meaning. Wynter refused to give in after she was stolen away from me. This makes her as strong as I am; I've existed for several hard centuries, been through unimaginable terrors and pain and suffering beyond comprehension. Wynter isn't very old at all, but she's been through much more than the average vampire experiences in their first few hundred years of life. My point in the matter is this; Wynter is strong, Walter. She's earned her time to shine and she'll get it. Mind you, I do concern myself over her from time to time; I'm her sire, it's natural. But there's no point worrying about her. She's all grown up now," he said with a leer. Walter sighed and shook his head, "You're in quite the peculiar mood today, aren't you?"
"You could say that," Alucard said with a grin that showed his fangs. It was eerie, "However, there's nothing saying that as old as I am, I can't enjoy life,"
"So I see," Walter mumbled.
/ooo/
Wynter returned early the following day, weary and exhausted from flying non-stop. She touched down by the front entrance and collapsed, "God, I'm tired," she muttered, "I overdid it again, didn't I?"
She got to her feet and staggered inside the building, folding her wings down. She sighed and glanced up at the sky. It was really early. She wondered if anyone was even up, yet.
She warped through the wall, rather than rattle the walls by opening the door. However, even as she stepped inside, she felt something was wrong. There were unfamiliar essences within the building. She shook her head, shuddering her wings.
"Calm down, Wynter," she mumbled, "You're only tired,"
But she couldn't shake the feeling that something was about to go wrong.
/ooo/
Integra stared down each of the men watching her warily from across the edges of the table. She lit her cigar and blew a cloud of smoke away from them out of courtesy for the non-smokers in the room. Under normal circumstances, she wouldn't have paid any attention. However, now was different.
"So then," Sir Irons started, "Integra, according to the notices you sent each of us, it seems that the situation involving those three murders has been illuminated slightly, is that correct?"
"It is, for the most part. But it's also quite hazy, right now," Integra replied cryptically. One member, Lord Milton, from Dover, let out a noise of irritation and scowled at her, "Don't give us strange answers, Integra," he snapped, "Just tell us whether or not the situation is completely understood. You mentioned in your report that the Vatican has issued a new weapon that has succeeded in driving away their best agent and breaking up the ranks of their finest assassins unit,"
"I did say that, didn't I? Well, it happens to be true, and it also just so happens to be that I have that particular agent under the Hellsing Organization's protection at the moment. He's about five stories beneath your feet," she said, jabbing the table lightly with her cigar. Several of the men began muttering fearfully amongst themselves. It was a good bet that none of them have ever met the Paladin Anderson before, but they'd all undoubtedly heard of his 'accomplishments', if that's what you'd call them.
"And what exactly is he doing here, Integra?" Irons asked suspiciously, seemingly the only one who remained calm.
"One of the vampires invited him," Integra said nonchalantly. Irons' eyes went wide and he shook his head spasmodically, "Integra! You mean to say that one of your own monstrosities is behind this clear act of treason?" he yelled.
"She doesn't belong to us, Sir Irons," Integra informed him, "Mind you, the stolen research done on Alucard by Hellsing was used to create her as she is today, but she isn't a servant of ours and she is no threat. Therefore, she has joined our ranks. Now, I want you to think upon this scenario—"
"No," Irons interrupted, "Integra, this is one time too many you have shown a blatant disregard for Hellsing's protocols in protection of the church and crown. If you think we will just sit by and—"
"Sir Irons!" proclaimed Sir Penwood, "I believe it wise this time to allow her to finish speaking before you jump to conclusions,"
Sir Irons glared at Sir Penwood, but he fell to silent agreement and nodded to Integra. She closed her eyes, regaining her train of thought, "Now then," she continued, "Consider this; The Vatican has improved upon the technology used to modify their best agent, Father Alexander Anderson, the only known survivor of this so-called technique we've been gathering information on for the last few years. If they'd managed to duplicate and successfully improve this very same process, where would Anderson, the only other recipient, be left in this equation?"
"I'd assume that he'd have become a lesser, er, version per se," said Lord Milton awkwardly. Integra nodded slowly, "That's correct. In the world of technology and its terminology, Alexander Anderson has become obsolete, his skills no longer worth the support they once merited, his help no longer needed. He has become nothing more than a burden on a now-perfected system,"
"You speak of this process as that of an android," Sir Irons stated.
"I'm aware that this individual is no such thing; that he is quite human, albeit heavily modified. But given what's happened, it's safe to assume that his replacements are likely less than human, gentlemen,"
"Meaning?" Sir Irons pried. Integra placed her cigar in the ashtray beside her. She fixed them with a serious stare, "Meaning," she said, "That Anderson may have been the absolute least of our worries in relation to Iscariot and the Vatican. If his replacements are powerful enough to drive him away from his own homeland, we should expect the coming storm and be ready for it,"
"You say 'replacements'," Said a man in the back, Sir Rowan, "Do you mean to say that there's more than one?"
"Our intelligence officer in the Vatican reported seeing two albino children aboard a helicopter heading toward London on the night of the attacks. Now tell me, does anything about that strike you as odd?"
"Aside from the children, no; it sounds like a typical air raid," Sir Rowan said. Integra smiled slyly, "Exactly. The children are the odd-ends out. Why would the Vatican send a pair of children on a dangerous assassination of Protestant evangelists? Certainly not a parent bringing them along for the ride. No one is that daft,"
"So then," Sir Irons said, "You're suggesting that those two children are these so-called deadly new weapons that have replaced Alexander Anderson as the Vatican's top agents?"
"I'm not suggesting, Sir Irons," Integra said, "With all due respect, I'm stating. These children aren't 'maybe' factors in this equation. They're the absolute answer. Why else would the Vatican send them along? Because they were the ones who carried out the orders,"
"That's insane!" Lord Milton exclaimed in horror, "Perhaps our intelligence officer just mistook something else for what he claims to have seen,"
"Do you have a better explanation?" Integra asked dryly. No one moved to reply. Integra sighed, "It would simply seem, gentlemen, that the Vatican has found new means of fighting and apparently, children are this means to their end. In the meantime, we have enlisted the aid of their former best agent. Granted, the only one in resident who seems able to tolerate him is the vampire who offered assistance for us, but we're currently working with the situation with what little leeway we've been given,"
"Sir Integra," Sir Irons interjected once more, "Tell us about this 'other vampire' you keep mentioning,"
"I believe you're all familiar with her. Her former name is Genevieve Du Beaumont,"
"What!" Sir Rowan exclaimed, "Are you speaking of the Du Beaumont family? But they've been extinct for years! Their eldest son never returned to France and the parents and their two daughters were killed by assassins who broke into their home,"
"You're mistaken, Sir Rowan; that was the story given to the media by my ancestor prior to Hellsing's founding," Integra said, "Both of the daughters are alive. As we speak, one has taken a career in the medical field and the other is very likely asleep in her coffin down in the basement,"
"I seem to recall," Sir Penwood said quietly, his hands folded over his mouth, "The mention of another vampire in the Hellsing company by the name of Wynter,"
"That would be Genevieve," Integra said, "Her family was slaughtered and she begged Alucard to turn her in order to exact revenge on the vampire responsible. However, she paid an enigmatic cost of all her human memories. She now spends her days wandering the countryside aimlessly,"
"With now as the apparent exception," Sir Irons said skeptically, "What is she doing here, and is she trustworthy?"
"I'm rather surprised at you, Sir Irons," Integra said, "I know you don't think very highly of my intentions and actions as it is. Are you perchance trying to trap me?"
Sir Irons appeared somewhat flustered but he shook his head lightly and waved her question off. Sir Penwood cleared his throat, "Sir Integra, amidst our secret circles, it's a well known fact that for a hundred years, Hellsing has employed a single vampire, Alucard, to assist in the destruction of his own kind, a feat unprecedented in modern times with the appearance of so many odd vampires. We do not ask if Wynter is trustworthy in that she will serve Hellsing indefinitely; we ask whether or not you can control her,"
"I don't intend to try," Integra answered, "Wynter is like Alucard, in that she is his fledgling and the heiress of a good deal of his power upon her turning. However, Wynter had been through a very different situation than Alucard. She endured twenty-four years of torture at the hands of humans and actually shares more in common with Anderson in this particular case,"
"And what is that supposed to mean?" Sir Irons growled.
"Wynter was stolen from Alucard at a young age and taken away to a certain, unnamed facility, now disbanded. She was modified to surpass Alucard. The whole idea behind this process is that she would have done that organization's bidding, killed her master and drunk his blood to free herself from bondage to him. With this done, she then would have become quite possibly the most frightfully powerful vampire ever to walk this earth. However, as with many a great strategy, this plan didn't work. Wynter's attachment to Alucard was too great. She instead escaped those people and hid herself away for many decades. There is only one reason why the plan failed,"
Integra paused to let this information sink in. She frowned and continued, "That reason being this; the loss of her memories."
"How did that affect anything?" Sir Rowan asked, "And how does this apply to the current situation involving the Vatican and Anderson?"
"I'm getting to that. Wynter's awakening into this world with a clean slate caused her to imprint on Alucard almost immediately. He was all she had and therefore, her attachment to him was quite strong, indeed. Had she had memories to go back on, she might have eventually grown to hate him for what he'd done and assisted the organization in his death. Obviously, that wasn't the case. Now, to answer your question, this is how this all relates to our current situation. Wynter is a very different vampire from Alucard. She's fond of playing devil's advocate. I saw this clearly when she brought Anderson here. She holds immense respect for him as an enemy and therefore, stood close by him when I spoke with him. She was both keeping an eye on the situation and preventing a fight from breaking out between him and Alucard. Wynter is also very sensitive to affairs in the human world. This comes naturally due to her nomadic nature, which means she can never let her guard down around humans. It's to be expected that she'd sense something was wrong within the Vatican and why she'd propose assisting Iscariot for the greater good for everyone. However, Wynter is by no means, trustworthy, gentlemen," Integra said with a smirk.
"So what you're saying is that you don't trust Wynter to listen to you," Sir Penwood said, "But you do trust her to fight for the ultimate greater good for all of us,"
"I believe she's fighting with her own odd reasons in mind," Integra said, "I don't expect her to obey anything we tell her to do unless it benefits those reasons. That's just how vampires like her operate. However, we do have an advantage;"
"And what would that be?"
Integra's eyes narrowed, "Alucard, of course. Last year, Alucard offered Wynter his blood, intending to free her from servitude to him. She declined. She's afraid to free herself, for fear she'll wind up doing the organization's dirty work in the end. She doesn't want to reach her full potential. This means that she is still within Alucard's control."
"And how does this relate to Anderson?" Sir Irons asked.
"For one reason or another, Anderson has attacked Wynter a total of five times in the past, failing to kill her each time. Like Alucard, Wynter can be completely decapitated and won't die. Her entire body was blown to pieces last year and she survived. However, she does have one flaw that we discovered in her data some time ago. If her heart is pierced, no matter how powerful she is, she would likely die like any other vampire, this being because she escaped before her heart could modified along with the rest of her body. It seems that Anderson may have figured this out, but for whatever reason, he's refusing to kill her. There's no way of knowing how he thinks, nor can we determine his reasoning. For the moment, we have a temporary ally in him as long as Wynter acts as a go-between."
"And if Anderson decides to kill her?"
"Hm? Even if that were to become the case, Wynter has endured enough hardship for three vampires. She won't die easily, gentlemen. And this is how we're going to stop whatever is going on in the Vatican. If their intention is to destroy us, let them try. We'll just keep coming back,"
Sir Irons didn't look happy with the decision, "Fine, Integra," he said, "With our current situation, we can't afford to be choosy. Wynter and Anderson will be tolerated for now. But if Wynter shows any signs of rebellion toward us, any at all, she will be dealt with,"
"I understand." Integra answered, "Now then, we should get on to the subject of how to stop the Vatican's plans,"
/ooo/
Wynter sat outside on the steps with her wings open. She'd bought a fine-toothed comb in town, an object usually used for horse tails. In this case, it was the perfect thing for removing loose grit from her feathers. She couldn't just sit around and wait for a sudden thunderstorm to wash them, so she had to clean them once every few days.
She gathered a small handful of feathers, gently running the teeth of the comb between them, but stopping just before she got to the edges. She didn't want to pull any out. Not only would it hurt, but the loss of certain feathers would affect her flying.
She frowned as she continued combing. She could hear him approaching long before he actually got there. She didn't look up, "Hello, Anderson," she said pleasantly, "What are you doing out here?"
"Ah doon't like being cooped up inside," he replied, "What are ye doing?"
"Cleaning my wings. If I don't, I can't fly properly," she said as she continued brushing her right wing. Anderson frowned, "That reminds meh," he said, "Ah thought they were ripped oot ae while back,"
"They were," Wynter said, unfurling them with a rush of feathers, "But Dorcas and Harriet did me a favor. These new wings are far superior to the other ones. They're stronger and I can fly much, much faster," she said, a look of evident pride on her face, "I take great care in my wings,"
He didn't reply. Wynter hummed, "I see," she said, "You really don't like me, do you?"
"Hm?"
"I understand your reasoning. I'm a vampire, after all. However, I do wish I could figure out where you got the idea that all vampires are evil, blood-sucking monsters out to annihilate the human race,"
She stood up, opening her wings. A tremendous gust whipped up and he shielded his eyes out of reflex. When he looked up again, she was gone, high up in the sky and slowly fading from view along the horizon, a single black dot. A few black feathers drifted down. He watched her leave, feeling strangely uneasy.
Wynter beat her wings once, carrying her up several dozen feet and away from spying eyes on the ground. She couldn't understand it. Yes, vampires were hated and feared amongst humans, but like humans, there were always going to be some weeds mixed in with the wheat. Wynter prided herself on being wheat and of eradicating the weeds. She hated being mistaken for a weed.
"Why can't he understand this?" she mumbled, "Not all vampires are bad. I just don't get it,"
She shifted to the right, aiming for the river. She decided to touch down on top of the bridge and spend some time thinking. It was the only place she wouldn't be bothered during a time like this.
/ooo/
Looking back, Wynter figured that maybe, things began to change the day she was called into Integra's office, along with Alucard and Anderson. Wynter was the last to arrive, having been asleep downstairs when Seras came to get her. She found Integra looking over what appeared to be some kind of invitation. She glanced up gravely when she came inside and shut the door, casting a furtive glance at the other two in the room.
"Wynter," Integra said coolly, "It would seem that we may have been found out,"
Wynter felt a stab of fear at this. Found out? That could mean anything!
"Found out," she repeated slowly, glancing over at Anderson. He didn't move, but she could sense he was anxious. It seemed he'd gotten the same bad inclination. Wynter frowned and turned back to Integra, "Are you saying that his location has been discovered by the Vatican?"
"Quite possibly," Integra said grimly, "As you're well aware, Wynter, we agreed to hide him here because he may be the best bet to help us stop whatever Enrico Maxwell is planning. Judging from this letter I received today, I'm willing to bet that our efforts may have proved worthless,"
She held it out to Alucard who stepped forward to take it. He scanned through it quietly, his expression never changing. "I see," he said at last, "So it's simply a repeat of two years ago, then. Not very imaginative, are they?"
"An invitation to the national gallery, again," Integra said distastefully, "Creativity is not his strong suit, apparently,"
"Maxwell wants to speak to you," Wynter said. Integra frowned, "It's not just me, Wynter. He's requested I bring you and Alucard along as well. To me, this hints that Maxwell may have a general idea of Anderson's location, but he can't prove that he's here. It seems Anderson is still safe here for the moment,"
"Ah'm surprised ye're goin' tae such great lengths tae keep mah position ae secret, Hellsing," Anderson remarked.
"I'm looking at the big picture, Anderson," Integra replied, "Keeping you hidden from the Vatican while the order for your death has been issued is only a small piece of this much bigger puzzle. If it will benefit the entire nation in the long run, I'm willing to make this sacrifice. Wynter, Alucard, best go prepare yourselves. Alucard will probably hide himself, but Wynter, I want you with me. I'm taking no chances on this, do you understand?"
"Yes, Sir Integra," Wynter answered. Integra turned to Anderson, "You're not a part of Hellsing. I give you no orders to hide while we're there. I merely recommend that you do so if you wish to improve your chances on the fact that Maxwell likely doesn't really know where you are. This may be a bluff, or it may be an attempt to get myself and my most powerful agents out of Hellsing to allow for an invasion like last time,"
Anderson nodded gravely. He understood the situation completely, thankfully. Integra stood up, "Seras and Sasha Pevensy are remaining here. An extra vampire and a former vampire-hunter never hurt the equation," she said ruefully, "Walter, send for a car. We'll be leaving within the hour,"
"Of course, sir," Walter said with a bow.
Alucard grinned as he approached the wall, slowly moving through it, "This sounds like a lot of fun," he said as he vanished. Wynter watched him go and then turned to the door.
"Wait," Anderson said suddenly. Wynter paused and glanced over at him. "Yes?"
"Ah'd like ae word wi' ye,"
Wynter led him outside to the front entrance where they wouldn't be overheard. She leaned against the wall and crossed her arms, "Okay, what's wrong?" she asked, looking up at him.
"Listen," he said, "Ah knoo something's wroong wi' Maxwell. He's never acted like this before. Ah'm pretty convinced that he's no' acting completely o' his oon will,"
"So you're saying he's possessed?" Wynter asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Nae, Ah'm saying something's wroong," Anderson said again, "Because o' this, Ah want tae try tae solve this wi'oot killing him, ye understand?"
Wynter frowned concernedly. For the first time, Anderson seemed...weary. That smug expression was gone, replaced by worry and fatigue.
"Hey," she said, "You really do care about what happens to him, don't you?"
He chuckled dryly, "Ah practically raised that daft idiot," he said with a shrug, "He's always been headstroong. He's oonly doin' his job, he's just goin' aboout it the wroong way,"
"So then you're not angry that he's trying to kill you?" Wynter pried.
"Ah'm ae bit confused, but nae, Ah'm no' angry. Ah said before, something's wroong wi' him,"
Wynter smiled and shook her head, "Who knew you had a good side?" she mused. He scowled, "Watch it, vampire," he snarled.
"I'm only messing with you. If I can't have a little fun, I might as well leave," she said. She moved forward and clapped a hand on his shoulder, surprising him, "Look," she said, "We'll figure this out, get the situation back under control and return to fighting as usual. Stop worrying so much,"
"And who said Ah was?" he grumbled as she started back toward the door. She turned, "So you don't show it? You can't hide these things from a vampire. Of course, if you took the time to actually try to understand us a little better, you'd have known that already. Well, I have to go and get ready. See you later," she said as she hurried back inside. Anderson stared after her in bewilderment, " 'Understand them better'? What's tae understand? Ae vampire is ae vampire," he muttered to himself. That's what he'd always told himself and he'd always believed it, used it to destroy something that looked and acted so incredibly human.
So how come all of a sudden it didn't sound convincing anymore?
A/N: I wanted to write in a Round Table meeting and I got the chance to! Also, I'm kind of changing the plot ever-so-slightly to erase any traces of the dead plot I was originally following, but that got scrapped sometime in between then and now. So please pardon my remodeling. I hope you enjoyed this chapter.