The Hellsing Files:

Carl Johnson Interview

Integra Hellsing looked between the résumé in her hand and the black man sitting across from her, slouched low in a wooden chair, scratching his crotch and looking around the room as though she wasn't there. He was wearing blue jeans and a white tank top. His hair was short, his face beardless, and he hadn't taken off his shades despite being inside and at a job interview.

"You've got quite an impressive list of skills here Mr. Johnson. It says here you can fly a Harrier?"

Carl Johnson nodded slowly. "Yeah, easy."

Integra smiled, thinking that if nothing else, the man was amusing. "It also says you're proficient with nearly all types of sub-machine guns, RPG launchers, and assault rifles. Is that correct?"

Carl inhaled deeply through his nose. "Yeah. Like I said, easy."

"And where did you learn all of this exactly?"

Carl scratched the back of his head. "Why you gotta ask so many questions? I learned on the streets, no big thing."

"You learned to fly a Harrier and a helicopter on the streets of Los Santos?" Integra asked, dropping Carl's folder.

"Naw, I learned that from CIA buster. My bro got locked up so I had to put in some work for him or else…well you know it works."

Integra lit up one of her cigars and took a long drag. "You realize of course that you'll be expected to demonstrate all of this in a field test?"

Carl took off his glasses, revealing surprised eyes. "A test? Aw, damn, I can't be takin no tests. That shit's for marks…"

"All you have to do is run through a maze and shoot things," Integra said.

"…yeah that's alright." Carl said. "Let's go get that out of the way, I gotta be somewhere"

"I've got a few more questions for you," Integra said, blowing smoke out her nostrils. "Why do you want to be a vampire hunter?"

Carl's eyebrow shot up and he sat back in his chair. "Vampires? Say what?"

"Vampires; the living dead, fangs, blood, stakes, holy water, Bram Stoker, you know."

"You mean like Dracula and shit? Man, that's messed up. I thought vampire was code for something, like, I dunno, white folk."

Integra paused, wondering if she should even send this man onto his field trial. "No, Dracula is actually on the payroll, don't worry about him. But we do hunt vampires, not…white people."

"Oh, oh," Carl said. "Yeah, alright, vampires. Sure, I'll roll on vampires. No problem."

"Good. You're field trial will be Friday…"

"Thursday."

"I'm sorry?" Integra said, looking annoyed.

"Thursday. I can't do Friday, I got things to do."

Integra drummed her gloved fingers on the desk slowly. "Look Mr. Johnson, this isn't the sort of outfit where we decide what days are good to work and which ones are not, we…"

"Look man, why you gotta bust balls? I told you, I got other work to put in and can't be…"

"Man?"

"Yeah. Sir whatever-your-name-is, you gots to let a player play, you know what I'm sayin? You look like a pimp who knows his shit, why you gotta be crampin my…"

"You are aware that Sir is an honorific and that I'm a woman?" Integra said, angrily.

Carl stopped talking a looked at Integra. "Oh…oh, OH, I see. Yeah, sorry. This English thing is weird, you know?"

"Why exactly did you come to England in the first place?" Integra said, remembering her prior question.

As if on cue, both heard footsteps outside the door, as though a dozen or so men were running around outside. "Uh, I think that's why," Carl said, getting up out of his chair.

Before Integra could ask questions, the door burst in and a dozen black men wearing purple and white clothing burst in. "Ballas!" Carl shouted; somehow a gun had appeared in his hand.

Integra tipped over he desk and got behind it, wincing at the sound of bullets slamming into the surface as the men opened fire. Integra drew her own gun and was about to return fire when everything fell silent. She looked up to see Carl standing in the doorway among the corpses of the invading men, picking up the money they seemed to have dropped upon dying. "Friends of yours?" Integra asked, inspecting the bullet holes that riddled her desk.

Carl shot her a dirty look. "The Ballas? Hells no. They aint nothin but busters…"

"Alright, Friday it is," Integra said, realizing that he had killed a dozen people on his own. "Don't be late."

"Yeah, yeah," Carl said, stuffing bills into his pocket and stepping over the bodies of the dead gangsters.

End Carl Johnson Interview