Hellsing—Bloodlust

Disclaimer—I do not own Hellsing in any way, so get over it.

Chapter Title—Weight of Malady

Rating—PG13 to R

Synopsis—Iscariot arrests Integra Hellsing, Millennium moves forward for their war and Alucard comprehends the full meaning of his Master's malady.

Author's Notes—First of all, I must apologize to all my glorious readers that I did not finish this according to schedule. Work and school proved troublesome. Besides I had some mild computer—namely 'G-Drive' problems involving a dog, in which case I lost everything…and I mean everything. All my fanfictions and even some of my original works. Don't question why or how, because I think I may seriously cry again. No one is more displeased than myself. I plead for your forgiveness and patience. God, I got to finish this thing.

Ta,

Immortalis

Detained

--Hellsing Manor

--Hellsing Private Library

"Arrest her!"

"No!" Seras Victoria cried out as the agents of Iscariot descended upon Sir Integra. She made a lunge, shielding the Master of her Master from their merciless and prejudice clutches. Tears spring from her eyes even as she pleaded, "Please! You can't. You simply cannot." Iscariot, blinded by their ignorance or arrogance even, were non-sympathetic to her cries and pressed further, and closer. In a flash the Angel of Death and the Frenchman were along her side, making a wall of loyal companions and standing with their will firmly resolved. "Stop! This isn't right! Can't you see what going on? It's Millennium. Think about it. They want us to kill each other. Please! Father Anderson!"

"Be quiet," the Paladin hissed between his teeth. "We have our orders."

Pip snorted under his breath and rolled his good eye with contempt. He gestured with a waving gun. "What? You mean from Archbishop Asshole, over there."

Iscariot took in a horrid gasp and their faces disordered even more—if that was already possible—into expression of hatred. "Heathen-dog." Alexander Anderson removed a blessed blade and threatened in a low booming voice, "Stand aside or I shall slice you from where you stand."

"Like fuck you will," the Frenchman growled.

"An heathen and a demon," begun Heinkel distastefully, "how romantic."

Seras Victoria's glaze fell to the floor as her cheeks flushed.

Pip made a vulgar movement concerning his hand and groin area, hissing, "Blow me, bitch. Or better yet, yourself dike."

"Enough…"the Hellsing-Daughter breathed. Integra stood her feet, returning as always to her stoic and unyielding gesture of authority or perhaps, English pride. Her eyes flashed dangerously and her hair gleamed like silver in the moonlight shinning brightly through the panel window. All together it gave her mystic, if not angelic appearance. "That's enough. Lieutenant Victoria, step down."

Seras opened her mouth to protest, "But sir…"

"I said step down. Are you not bound to my orders?" Integra asked sternly.

"I am…"

She warned, "Captain Bernadette…"

Pip pouted like some child and pleaded, "Just one bullet, please. And I know where to aim it." The barrel was perfectly trained between Anderson's eyes, who glared and leered violently.

Integra stumbled forward. "I said 'ease and desist.'"

Pip threw his hands up and exclaimed, "Shitfuck! Things were starting to get good. " He continued to grumbled indistinctly, "Me, I hate London…old fashion cocksuckers…horrible weather…paychecks…"

"My cigar Maxwell," Integra demanded.

The Archbishop smiled and purred, "All in good time Miss—Director. Shall we…" In a flash of cloaks Iscariot and the Hellsing-Daughter were gone.

OOO

OOO

Despite the ruthless encouragement from her sire, Alucard—Seras Victoria wipe away the clear 'human' tears from her cheeks, instead of the blood streaks a typical vampire would shed. Lesson 8 as Lord Alucard said, "A Nosferatu, a vampire shall not cry." According to him, crying was a pathetic, feeble sentimental that human exercise quite often. There was never a circumstance worthy enough to find an excuse to cry for him. Never. Not only were they increasingly complicated, but also humans were emotional.

This of course, was total bollocks to the Police Girl. Crying was not a weakness—but instead, just human.

Alucard was human…once. And perhaps that was all he hated it.

Now that was pathetic.

"Fuck these assholes," Pip declared. "I got enough C-4 to blow them back to the crusades."

After what seemed like hours the Angel of Death spoke, "What a charming proposition, Captain," his voice carried a trace of banter but otherwise Walter, always managed to keep his cool, calm professionalism—Expect, of course when slicing vampires into bite-able chunks with those wires of his. Then, he was a manic! "However, I would like to avoid all violent conformation with Iscariot until absolutely necessary."

"So we wait. I hate waiting. I like—no," hew corrected himself, "I love the old fashion way. My granddaddy's way of getting the job done." As he spoke Pip fished into his pockets and pulled out a half-emptied carton of cigarettes. He smacked the pack against his free hand until one white roll of tobacco rolled out, practically begging to be smoked dry before the others. "Granddaddy got things done."

Walter was well aquatinted with his history; after all, he recruited Pip Bernadette and the Wild Geese. Wiping the crust from his eye he asked, "I trust your Grandfather retired."

"Sure!" he quirked playfully. "Six feet under is a retirement."

"Ah…" he exclaimed.

Taking in a deep puff of smoke he explained further, "Whole family been mercenaries for eight generations. It puts bread on the table and clothes on our backs. We'll do just about anything for money. Besides, it sort of a commitment to die in duty. My own Pop was killed in Colombia. Personal…If I die, than I die. I can tell you this—I am going to go out with a gun in my hand and a smile on my face…and if not, than old age might be nice." Reaching into the other pocket, Pip removed a switchback knife and started to pick his nails with it, as if it was a causal thing to do. "To which ever comes…"

A smile twitched on Walter's lips, as he noted, "Weren't you frisked, Captain?"

Pip flashed a wicked grin and his one golden-olive eye gleamed with mischief. He exchanged a glance over his shoulder, peering at Seras Victoria and answered more towards her than the Butler, "I may have a fancy for cute girls…but not all of my flirting is pleasure. Some is strictly business. I have discovered that Iscariot chicks are not fond of frisking a man—especially he makes comments about them trying to grope his nut-snack." He held up a point in deep thought and continued, "First thing—I never surrender my cigs. I never go completely unarmed." The Frenchman took a brass knuckle, a grenade and a palm size handgun from his pockets and down his pants. With a large grin he displayed his glorious items on the table. "So in reality…I was not properly frisked."

"Brilliant Captain. How witty of you," Walter commented, much amused.

He laughed openly and loudly, "Brilliant? Not brilliant, but genius!"

Seras blinked away the drying tears and approached them—what Alucard referred as her 'Two Suitors'—with growing interest and then amusement. She reached out to examine the objects but remembering what location he hid them in made her think twice. Gagging, she wiped her hands. The brass knuckles were engraved with one letter on each bulge…B-I-T-E, and of course the second word spelled…T-H-I-S. Bite This. Interesting. It certainly gave a new meaning to a 'knuckle sandwich.' Seras exclaimed, "I cannot believe that you manage to stuff of this down your pants."

"There wasn't a lot of room down there. I had to improvise." Pip added, "And the Paladin…is not the tough shit everyone makes him out to me. Regenerator? Nothing a swift kick in the balls couldn't do. You should not seen him. It was hilarious. That Heinkel was not happy about that." Laughing he slapped his knee and pinched his sinuses, feeling the ghost tears coming. "Besides a grown man never likes to feel up another man's groin."

The Police Girl huffed a short laugh and exclaimed, "Aha! I knew that wasn't all you down there. You stuffing your boxers is hilarious! Poor Frenchie…"

Like any man whose 'Precious' were violated by comments of 'lack thereof', Pip did what any man would do—he defended himself, "Hey! Trust me, it is big enough and it works very, very well. It makes me happy that you were looking, Seras."

Seras threw her hand up, scoffing "I cannot believe we are discussing this. I mean I figured you would do just about anything for money. All for money."

"That I resent."

"You just said that a minute ago."

Pip fired back, "Like a woman, you misunderstood me."

"You sexist pig. Care to elaborate?"

"With pleasure, mi Cherie. Money isn't the thing to fight for." A pause followed as Pip flicked his bangs out of his good and only eye. "There's out of things worth fighting for—for aggression, for the homeland, for family, for women, for children, for narcotics, for food, for lots of things…But, I never would have pegged 'killing vampires' for the list."

"You will find that I Hellsing Organization is filled with surprises," Walter said.

"Like Alucard's sex change," Pip joked in a low voice.

Seras blinked. "What?"

Walter laugh and then his face returned stoic as he noted, "Speaking of Alucard. Wherever did he go?"

A voice called out, "Down here." Together, simultaneously like a three stooges, Pip, Seras and Walter peered over the edge of the table and saw Alucard, the No-Life King in a position less suited for a noble vampire. He was lying on his back, feet crossed and staring bleakly at the ceiling. There was a new expression on his face, a look of revelation. "How curious…"

"Master!" Seras cried as she rushed to his side. "Are you alright?"

"That hurt more than I originally expected," Alucard winced as he fingered the gaping bullet hole.

"Master…"

The No-Life King smiled through his wheezes and said low, "No fear my childe." Causally as if the action was common-some he glanced down at the sigils of the Hellsing Seal. No fractures. Nothing. "Everything is in order."

But the secret and better yet, the origin to Integra's secret malady had been revealed to him. O

OOO

OOO

The Malady

OOO

Above, tens of thousands of feet in the air, the Grafzeppellin II flew through the orange and yellow sky, and even between the seemingly opaque clouds like a knife slicing through butter. The war-craft hummed along its way, undisturbed by the passing flocks of seagulls and not intimidated by the darkening threats of an approaching storm on the horizon. No, instead it forcefully faced nature as if smiling in the face of death itself. And yes of course, that insane Major laughed at the concept of anything standing in his way. Sure enough, nations, its leaders and its people would stand in his path, only to be crushed and left behind as bloody stains in Millennium's wake. It might be considered a noble or even brave attempt at heroism, but a pathetic and vain one at best.

War was coming.

The Blood-Maiden knew this too well.

Draped in shadows she stood meekly, and completely lost in redundant thoughts, as she stared at the chalk and blood engravings of the Hellsing-Seal. For the first time since her training and, mastering in the Dark-Arts, she had failed. Such an event seemed impossible for her. Failure! What terrible shame for the likes of her, and The Covenant. But why? Why? A frustrated hiss escaped from her throat, rumbling deep like a furnace as she pondered the fall of her pride and questioning of her skill.

She heard the Major speak through his fat lips, "Ah…what a beautiful display. This is what I love, someone who dances on the brim of sanity and madness. I am intrigued. Positively elastic with joy and anticipation! This war will change the world… " The Major bowed his head as if caught in prayer. Flashing a row of tiny white teeth he added, "Excellent…"

Stupid man, she thought. Fool of war.

The Doc adjusted his glasses and replied meekly, "Ja, of course."

Couching down, she examined the design close and personal. Her eyes fluttered in eager anticipation and desperation to discover the fault in her perfectly feasible plan. It could be done—the Hellsing Seal would break…But yet, something had gone wrong. Her calculations were ideal, the ingredients present and she was the Mistress of the Dreamworld, so the talent was there. So, what had happened? Her deathly pale features were an inch from the concrete floor as she breathed in its scent, and there was the sickening aroma of coppery-blood and betrayal. Her fiery eyes snapped open, even as she could smell the deception. Perhaps it was not the failure and shame that appalled her, but instead, the treachery of it. This was the unkindest cut of all, the deceit and manipulation from Him. It was his doing.

The No-Life King, Alucard.

"It is he," she leered in absolute disgust. Growling like a mad-beast, dark burgundy nails ranked the air and she cursed in her native tongue. "Him." It was unpleasant to be betrayed by one of her own kind, a vampire who had sat at The Covenant as a ruling Master and True Undead. And to rub salt in the wound, to be exchanged for a human-woman—that whoring bitch Integra Hellsing.

"And do you think my Captain?" quirked the fat man playfully.

As always, the Captain did not say a word and he would not. A Lycan, a werewolf was a strange creature. Most were just mindless animals, who would bathed in the moonlight, feed gluttonously and howled without rhyme or meaning. Not this one. He was not deaf or dumb. No, she thought, there is cleverness and sense in those golden eyes. It was a humble ruse. If he ever spoke, something dire would have to spark the nerve to supply his tongue and vocal cords. Rumors among those fabricated Midans said that his words were solely for his lady, the Huntress—Rip Van Wrinkle. But if so, she never said.

Schrodinger exchanged a glance with the Doc and shrugged his shoulders, apparently bored or uninterested with the typical silent gesture from his werewolf mentor. The cat-boy twitched his ears and quirked, "I think it's time to meet them, Major."

"Schrodinger…" the man in the lab-coat warned.

"All in good time. Be patient." The Major paused and added, "Things have taken an unexpected twist. As the No-Life King said—"So war it is?" So shall it be. War is coming, a war to which to change the world." He paused to look at her. "Shall you join in this beautiful war, Baroness?"

"No doubt you were enjoying that hideous display by him…you—" The Doc paused before adding some insult or undesirable entitlement. "You would betray Millennium."

"No more than you would to I." Deep within the shadows, Carmilla—the Bloody Baroness, Queen of Illusions peered over her creamy shoulder and smiled, softly laughing at his innate foolishness. Yes she did. She laughed, despite the brutal carnage that spelled out before all of Millennium. Even now, the new-bred Midan-Freaks were alarmingly quiet with wide fearful eyes and tease shoulders. In fact several had soiled themselves; after all, the sight of a Hellhound gorging itself on their comrades was hardly appealing and stimulating towards self-esteem. It was an exquisite exhibit of bloodshed, and the No-Life King did have a unique style when it came to murder and chaos.

Still her laughter carried on, echoing off the steel and armor-plating walls. The blood of the dead decorated her robe, darkening the color, which could be the reason for her mood but then again, perhaps it was the irony of what had just played before them. Millennium wanted to play chess with the devil and would lose their souls. It was amusing. Prophetic words slipped from her lips, 'We are leeches, and your blood sickens our bellies/ We have had our fill and now depart from you to find sweeter souls'." O

The Major mused, "A verse from the Black Veil."

"Rather suitable considering the situation, "Schrodinger noted.

"Blood is the life, as water to the flower." Carmilla paused and again, reviewed her findings. Everything was going smoothly until he disapproved, but why had he? He was a slave, a domesticated pet to the Hellsing Family, who hunted his own. Although yes, they might have been pretenders and frauds, but now, Alucard seemed almost willingly to do so. Perhaps, years being with humans, their weaknesses and sentiments had rubbed off him. But here at the possible moment to seek revenge on them, on the last descendent of Abraham Van Hellsing, he refused. Why? "But, the faltering of the Hellsing Seal shall be on my terms, not yours," he had said.

"Blood is the life," she whispered as a thought came to her. "It is the currency of the soul." Turning on her heel Carmilla faced the crafted Seal. It was here.

"My Lady…" the Major tried to regain her attention, "Baroness."

She whispered to herself, "The Hellsing-Seal stands unbroken. I have done nothing but a ripple in a stream and now, the waters are clam. A loose thread in the sheet, if you will. The No-Life is enslaved, almost willingly."

The Doc stepped forward and demanded, "Whatever are you saying, woman?"

Alucard had refused, and even before he was not apt to assistance, not even with Van Hellsing. So why would this be any different? He wanted the pride of breaking the chains that held, and enslaved for an over a century. "As he said, 'It shall be on my terms,' hence," she paused and the prophetic words rolled off her tongue, "For the craft used shall be turned against the Master/ Same as the childe feeds upon its sire." O

Relatively speaking, Integra Hellsing was the Master, and Alucard was the childe, the slave. He would feed upon her to gain his release, not only from the bonds but also from the connection to his Master. Virgin, or not he would drink from her but he seemed reluctant. It was simple—she was human and it was his instinct to feed. "Damnation!"

It was useless he was so stubborn. Then again, so was she. Despite the difference in species, they were both surprisingly similar.

And there it was!

For Abraham Van Hellsing to enslave an immortal there had to be more than a sigil, a few Catholic O prayers and blood. No. How ironic, she thought. They are bonded but in more than one-way. The ink of the Seal is Hellsing Blood but to recruit the devil in your ranks has its consequences.

"Using your Inner Eye, Carmilla? Yes?" the Major asked with even more eagerness.

"Use me, abuse me, craft me and hence fall into my blackness. A willing victim, an eternal slave." The Blood Maiden took a remaining blood-vial of the No-Life King and other that of Sir Integra, she pour both, each a pile an foot from each other. The coppery smell saturated the air like some sweet perfume, and they smelled alike. Human blood has a distinct smelt and it was somewhat lacking. Like before in the attempt to fracture the Hellsing Seal the miniature pools of blood shifted like individual beings with like minds. Within seconds the two pools became one. "Bound by blood and bound by life. So alike are you and I…Shall we dance, shall we breed, breathe and bleed."" O

A grin twitched playfully on her lips. It was almost as if she had discovered some terrible secret.

The Doc rolled his eyes and demanded, "Speak plainly."

Finally she finished, "We are falling…falling but not yet broken." O

"You are gabbling nonsense!"

Carmilla lifted her eyes towards the Major and her voice was sharp of obsidian, "Let this war begin…Be assured Major, you shall hear the orchestra of war."

The threat was obvious enough but the Major was too overjoyed with the prospect of coming war that he forgot about it. He clapped his hands together, grinning and giggling like some insane spoiled child. "Good! This is what I want…" a hum of pleasure followed. "War…chaos…murder and of course, death. Order 666 shall resume forward until the climax."

"I doubt that…" she cooed with delicious wickedness as she peered intently at the vital of remaining blood.

The fat insane Nazi frowned and asked, "Whatever do you mean, Baroness?"

"Pride is a sin, child. It shall be your untimely fall…at the hands of a virgin…an Artemis O incarnated." It was frightening that the Baroness was not only the crafter of illusions, but also the foreseer of vision, namely of the future. The gift was not hers by birth. No, it was not. The Third-Sight was a 'borrowed' instrument—but stolen would be the more appropriate term—that she manipulated it for her own twisted, dark purpose. While her smile was a friendly sight, her heart was foul and black as an endless abyss. A powerful and threatening gift if mastered by the spiteful, deceitful and unfeeling. The images were like tricky creatures. Endless riddles—but some things were perfectly seen. And now, the Baroness stood over the main bridge and saw the world below as much as the images dancing inside her mind.

Yes indeed, what a glorious war it would be.

TBC

Immortalis

O—But the secret and better yet, the origin to Integra's secret malady had been revealed to him O—more revealed in the next chapter.

O—We are leeches, and your blood sickens our bellies/ We have had our fill and now depart from you to find sweeter souls'." O—I don't know why but for some reason I felt prophetic in this chapter, and I like to use the Black Veil as a reference for coming events. Vampires are parasites. This line is quite simple, "I have had my fill and now I go to someone else."

O— For the craft used shall be turned against the Master/ Same as the childe feeds upon its sire. O—like I said in the following chapter, Integra is the Master and Alucard the childe. Remember in the amine and Hellsing OVA 1, when Alucard tried to get Seras to feed on his blood so she could be free? Same principle. But to be completely free Integra must be thoroughly drained and dry, something the Hellsing Seal will never permitted. Alucard is basically screwed. Ha!

O-- Abraham Van Hellsing O—I figured he was Catholic, but when he enslaved Alucard the church dismissed him.

O—Bound by blood and bound by life. So alike are you and I…Shall we dance, shall we breed, breathe and bleed O—Integra and Alucard are bound in an endless cycle of love and hate.

O—We are falling…falling but not yet broken O—same quote Alucard used in Somniator.

O—Artemis incarnated O—Integra Hellsing.

Thank you so much for your patience. College is a total bitch right now. One more week and then finals!! I need to finish this thing. So, what's next…Alucard creates a dreamscape so he can commune with an enemy, Abraham Van Hellsing. Iscariot interrogates Integra, and Maxwell has the most intriguing and unexpected proposal.