Part Two: From Dust we come, to dust we must return

Chapter Twelve: A year.

Alucard

1st January 2010

1:01 am

A/N: Okay, I think it's about time I put in another disclaimer, just so we're all clear that I don't own Alucard, Seras, Walter, Integra, Anderson or any of Hirano Kouta's (Yes, Japanese style title/name thing) characters. I am not affiliated with him, I am not receiving payment for this creation, it is simply a bit of creative fun.

Furthermore, I would like to start warning everyone about the fast-pacedness of the next few chapters. Basically I have to cover a few months in the space of….two/three chapters and I've been debating how to do this for a while; so I've decided that I shall hop up into the future (as Alucard, obviously) and recap on what has happened so far. There will be spaces where I shall have to slow things down, but…yeah…I'm trying to make excuses for the change in writing style, soooorry! Anyway, let's experiment a bit :P Keep your eyes open for dates.

Kitty: Yeah, I'm being a bit more pessimistic with the recession, the opener of this chapter really revolves around how the people of England would suffer in contrast to those running it. I'm just so pissed at how we're being governed at the moment. I'm make the context of this fan fiction the perfect hyperbole to make class-differences, particularism etc more prominent. I mean, why the hell are we still being run by this kind of government, why is it that they can get away with STEALING tax-payer's money?! Some people say they didn't, that they've been fired. No. That's all bollocks! They are asked to RESIGN! They still get huge effing pensions. Politicians…urgh…. The Inner Most Circle of Hell is reserved for them all! (#Burn baby burn# plays in background)

Far be it for me to presume New Year's would be more eventful than Christmas, but I had expected something. Perhaps the echoes of cheers in the distance, a collective sigh of relief as humans counted down the days to salvation or counted themselves lucky for living. But no.

There was no noise; the usual BBC New Year's Party Live was somewhat damp in spirit, smiles obviously plastered on their faces in a desire to instil some kind of hope in those watching: "Hey, the celebrities are still smiling- we must be nearing the end of this hell". The whoops on the television screen were half-hearted, the camera swept over the crowd below, the docks were practically empty in contrast to last year's soirée with couples dancing drunkenly and an expansive crowd whooping and jumping for joy.

I decided to head to the old ruins of Saint Kathrin's Church, where I might be able to think in peace without Anderson or anyone else bothering me. It was highly unlikely that I would be needed by Integra- she still had not left her room, with her only visitors being Peter, James and Walter- and Seras was too busy with official Elite duties- the lucky girl had been promoted to Captain of Squad four.

I stopped short of the ruins and decided to take the scenic route, walking beside the river and up to the sand banks. The river meandered around the large glass building reserved for the delightful and unbelievably over-priced Debenham's, behind the Yvonne Arnaud Theatre, followed the main road out of the town and sharply turned in the opposite direction, leading towards the ruins behind the old Tudor and Elizabethan buildings.

I stopped in front of Debenham's, the large glass front-doors were smashed and taped over, wood having been placed in places. The tall windows over the doors were yawning open, remnants of smashed glass littering the window frames and inside I could make out the silhouettes of destroyed counters, glass bottles of perfume had been smashed at some point and the air still reeked of a disgustingly sweet mixture of colognes and perfumes; clothes littered the floor; the walls and counters were scorched in places where rioters had set fires. Debenham's was simply the people's way of rebelling against all those that could actually afford such expensive clothes and perfumes, jewellery and waste enough time not working (yet still earning more than those who had wrecked the expensive store) to be able to peruse the store's shelves and counters, its multiple floors and multiple sections. I walked over the bridge and towards the old pub, noticing its white exterior was also tainted grey and black in places, its windows were dusty and smashed- this place had been empty for months. Further down the river, where the grass was once kept short, where a cast iron sculpture of Alice and her sister reading whilst a rabbit hopped down a hole had once stood clean and majestic beneath glorious weeping willows, the grass had grown tall and unkempt; where the sculpture had once been there was instead dusty brown soil and a toppled bin. The benches dotting the edge of the river were broken in places, or inhabited by lumps of human flesh.

I continued down the river, the sky black and tumultuous as a sudden downpour rained down upon me, pooling at the brim of my hat then flowing silkily down onto my shoulders. After a few more moments of walking and taking in the depressing landscape: drooping trees, rotting litter, sleeping humans on benches, shivering humans sitting around small fires beneath the weeping willows, their grubby clothes boasting the possibility of having once looked acceptable.

A small family of four turned their head around to watch me walk past, the mother beckoning to her two young girls, clutching them to her as I continued to gaze at the family indifferently; the father stood up from the bench, rugged features caked in dirt, "Hey-!" He stopped short at the sudden shout, coughing into his fist as I carried on past. It got worse. More families were camping in tents on the more marshy of the river banks, a family of six- grandmother and baby included- were sleeping on a few old mattresses next to the cows, a low fire glimmering and faltering weakly in the darkness as the rain continued to soak them. The baby began to wail discontentedly as the eldest son and father worked to set up a cover over the collection of mattresses and fire.

Finally I came to the large wooden bridge over the river and the sand banks, figures stood on the bridge, the single electric light at the top flickering in and out as they exchanged something and parted ways. I sprinted up the steep sandbank up a few dozen feet and stopped amongst gorse bushes to see several other families clustered inside the ruins behind the wrought iron fence amongst the tall weeds and litter. A quick look into their minds told me that they had been attacked several times already by muggers and looters and inside the wrought iron fence was the only safe place for them. The single mother stood watch with heavy-lidded eyes as her two infants dozed in the darkness, one rolled over and began coughing in the darkness, the water no doubt pooling inside the ruins and soaking them through.

I wandered around the ruins, careful not to spook the mother as she tended to her daughter and gazed down to the main road cut between the two tall hills and then further in the darkness to the bright cluster of orange lights in the perpetual darkness. I regarded the old Elizabethan buildings as the shouts and music echoed down from their own soirée, silhouettes danced about behind the windows, whooping loudly. I had initially thought that everyone was hit by the recession, I knew after a few more reports that it was turning out to be more fortuitous for some than others.

Those who owned their own houses without mortgages were safe from being evicted, those who were in high-paying corporate jobs that were, more often than not, jointly run by a political party, were also safe from homelessness and other tragic events.

I remembered what Molly had once said. "There's something rotten in the air". She was right after all: it was injustice. I looked down at the numerous fires along the flood-planes, fires dwindling, flickering, whimpering in the darkness as the harsh breeze and rain cruelly clamped around the simpering flames. I would bet that all of the families below and around me were all working-class to lower-middle-class, that they had been robbed of their money by money-pinching banks that, even as they sank in debt themselves, dolled out generous Christmas bonuses of a few thousand to each high-ranking banker, earnings within the 400,000 region for the CEOs and various other favourable and benevolent bankers. They had been deceived into believing that their own tax-payers money was being spent wisely when it was being squandered on Mps' second and third homes and various other expenses. They had been turned away by the organisations that proclaimed benevolence and aid to those who deserved it when they had their houses robbed from them. They had been turned out into the winter evening with young children with nothing but the clothes on their back and a couple of mattresses as the men and women within the office agreed that the family hadn't done themselves any favours by getting jobs- and losing them shortly after.

"There is something rotten in the air", perhaps it's the promise of death manifest in the smell of illness and vomit.

There was something rotten in the air, and I had a feeling it may have been a combination of all of Briton's injustices. What I found so entertaining, as any cold-hearted, sadistic vampire would, was the question of humanity. For years now, Britain has disagreed with the death penalty, had been campaigning for human rights, had made the murderers and rapists, robbers and thieves a home in prison, giving them food, warmth, clothes, sanitation and a bed and yet had deprived those who had paid their taxes, gotten a job, worked hard as British citizens and not broken the law of the bare necessities to survive. The sheer dark irony of it all- The British campaigned for humans rights of law breakers and yet ignored the wellbeing of the innocent, even now I find it laughable.

Though of course I had seen worse in the past, I had grown accustomed to the more privileged lifestyle of a more developed country.

The cough from the daughter continued to mount into almost a choke, the mother attempted to start a fire in a corner of the ruin where there was cover and carried each child over to it, but her kindling was sodden. I turned my head away and returned to the headquarters. I'd had enough of the New Year's spirit.

I laid in my coffin, the sunrise outside watery as the rain continued to pelt the new year, and realised that it was about this date a year ago that I first met her. I had first thought her to be a human, but overlooked her lack of a heartbeat or the inconsistency of it, I couldn't really remember what I thought she was- a new kind of freak, one that fought alongside us?

She had first appeared so…human and unfortunate- a young girl forced into the world of the macabre, fighting it, whilst simultaneously fighting to sustain her own life through prostitution. But she'd been a demon, just over half a millennia old, born of one of the highest ranking demons of the Inner Circle of Hell and a woman descended from a line of women tainted with the blood of a demons. A demon lost. A demon fighting only because that was all she knew. A demon purportedly blackmailed into prostitution by a lowly freak. A demon cunning enough to gain money for her services without doing anything too… strenuous.

And in the time I knew her she had gone from this lost, adolescent, confused thing and grown into a bloodthirsty, bipolar, vengeful Demoness. I saw those few months flash behind my eyelids, her unsmiling mouth tilting slightly in the corner at a joke, her eyes darting about, sneering at men and companionship, batting away any chances of friendship, then suddenly breaking habit and reaching out for it, trusting others, caring for others, smiling broadly. Her eyes no longer darted about a room as long as she was accompanied by those she now dubbed as "family"- Seras and I- her body developing curves, albeit slight, and her attitude became far more confident and….content.

I smiled at seeing her in her demon form in the corridor, her pale eyes glaring through the sand clouds and catching my eyes as my eyebrows arced, she winked.

And yet she had shown such demonic tendencies before she broke out of that human shell and donned her natural skin, having been able to tear freaks apart and devour them whilst they still kicked at her, having aided me in ripping evil beings of the night to shreds. Aiming her crossbow at slight shadows in the darkness and rendering them dead with a single bolt.

I wondered how anyone could keep her imprisoned whilst she was like that, how could they have been able to keep her so weak? I scourged Mirdori and Faust's memories, finding that the poisons they used had slowly become more potent, starting at arsenic and holy water and ending with using radiation and viruses- of all things- injecting them directly into her spine. They'd observe the effects with curiosity as she became weaker and immune to pain. They soon realised that her spine truly was her weak spot, her main arteries twisting around her spinal column and for some reason her spine and back were so much more sensitive than a human's or a vampire's. I went deeper into Faust's memories, conjuring up an image he had suppressed and I had managed to only just dredge up.

She had endeavoured escapes, numerous times, but had only ever got outside of the compound and had been poisoned and dragged back. And on one escape they hadn't needed to poison her, she had doubled over suddenly, throwing up pale purple blood onto the floor as the corridor lights glared down on her frail body. She'd gripped her stomach, screaming and choking. Faust gave the orders to have her taken to an operating theatre immediately. The memory stopped there, having been suppressed by him so much it was all but destroyed.

My fists clenched at the prospect of anyone harming her. She was a monster, a deceptive, bloodthirsty creature and yet they had her trapped and bound, screaming and throwing up her own polluted blood in some sordid cell. It enraged me to the core, just as seeing her being ripped to pieces by those ghouls in the corridor had.

I felt a body next to me and turned my head to see the creature shuffling closer to me tentatively, eyes empty, mouth….ripped to pieces.

The jaw had been crushed, her lips had been torn to shreds and it was obvious she had been crying simply by the lines of clean flesh on her cheeks. She rested her head on my chest and curled up into a ball. "Not as talkative tonight then?" I ask, she sniffs. I rest my hand on her back, she flinches and I move my hand to rest my hand on her shoulder, she relaxes slightly. "This year proves to be an interesting one, doesn't it, Woman?" She nodded into my chest, her fingers clutching onto my shirt desperately as she began to shiver. "How can you be cold? This coffin is always warm," She shrugs, mumbles something I can't make out and then seems to fall asleep against my chest, her body slowly fading away into nothingness. I sigh and look down at my shirt to see it dirtied and creased where her hand had been.

25th January

Alucard

4:00 am

Seras knocked her King over, "I give up, I never win 'gainst you anyway so why bother?" She folded her arms and slouched in her chair.

"You're not thinking logically, you're moving on whims and guesses. You have to keep up with your opponent, try to figure out all their possible moves to figure out which one they are more likely to take." I answered exasperatedly.

We sat in the Infirmary playing chess with Peter's bottle of whiskey between us; Peter sat with his back to us, rapidly typing into the computer- researching something- and Anderson sat on one of the beds reading the newspaper. The front page showed an image of the queen and her family at another palace somewhere in Europe, the headlines cried outrage "International humiliation- England without a Monarch for first time since civil war".

"Master?" Seras asked as I turned back around and set up the board for another game. She bit her lip nervously, started jiggling her leg and playing with her hair- looking anywhere but me.

"Yes."

"Have you- um. Nah, it's fine. Probably just me," I don't want him going on about me bein' weak again- I've had enough of that bollocks. Just a nightmare. Just a dream. It's not real.

"What are these nightmares of?" I asked with an ounce of interest.

"Um, well…I don't…I…a woman." I raised my eyebrows, "I mean, I've been getting them for a while now actually, since I joined the Elite, actually." I heard the sound of the newspaper being folded up, the springs on the bed creaked as Anderson stood up and pulled a chair up to the table, pouring himself a glass of whiskey. "Oh?" I inquire.

"Um…She's sitting on a rock and there's blood everywhere, and…her face…"

"Is ripped to pieces?" Anderson asks. I paused and regarded him with a sceptical eye- is he being serious?

"Well…kind of…there's…it's too disgustin' t' describe-y'll all think I'm a disgustin' monster." I raised my eyebrows.

"You're a vampire…" I sighed exasperatedly. "Just tell me what she looks like."

"Like…Frankenstein or something. She's all…broken. She has wire through her lips to hold them shut and she keeps on trying to talk to me but can't. And when she walks towards me it's…like some kind of jolted robot stuck in an old video. Jumpy. I wake up as her face is only an inch from mine and I can smell her and feel her. But, when I wake up, it's not over…" Seras turned pale at even thinking it. "I mean, maybe I'm crazy!" She laughed to herself nervously as Anderson and I looked at her, I feigned disinterest, "Ur…Well, she's sitting over me with her face right there but she's pulled the wire out and is bleeding on me and…it's…I mean. It's just a nightmare right, so it doesn't really matter?"

"If I'm going to be honest with you, Seras," I began, Seras looked to me expectantly, "I wouldn't be surprised if this is your subconscious just playing tricks on you after all the people you've tortured and killed. You are, after all, still practically human in that way." Anderson scoffed and slugged back the last of the whiskey.

"Ah'm auf tae bed." He huffed.

Seras started to play with the pawn pieces nervously. I found it peculiar that Seras would have similar dreams to me, or at least as similar to the dreams I had had a few months ago...

I sensed a shift in the air, Peter gasped and the chorus of typing stopped altogether. I turned to watch him as he stands up and glared at the screen as if to will it to change and tell him something different.

"What? Is there another riot?" Seras asked as Peter stumbled over to our table and poured himself a glass of whiskey. His hand was shaking as he brought the glass to his lips, his eyes wide, his upper lip covered in a thin film of perspiration. I have to stop all the orders now. I have…I have to tell Integra and…SHIT! FUCK! Why didn't you see the connection sooner, Petey? SHIT.

He finished off the first glass and poured himself a second, swearing under his breath between glasses, his whole frame shaking like a sick child. "We have….a major….major….ma-a-a-ajor problemo. Major. Huge. Fuck-ugly problem." Seras frowned.

"Software malfunction?" She offered unhelpfully.

"If only. If only," He answered, he sat down on the spare chair, "Our supplies…They may be contaminated."

"How did you come to that conclusion?" I asked, Peter looked up and stood up, returning to his desk where he beckoned for us.

"Have a look at this," Peter maximized the screen, "I was just going over Anderson's medical records, as well as Seras' and…Something caught my eye: the makers of the upgrades. Both come from an occult-medicinal company named Acorn, they've been working alongside all of the worlds leading occult organisations since the 1930s." He sighed, a hint of sadness in his voice as he moved onto another screen showing acorns website, along the top were several other tabs. "I was just curious. I mean, the name reminded me of something and, not surprisingly I found links from Acorn to Merris labs- our labs. And Merris is a branch of Molmally- the largest medical-occult research facility, the largest pharmaceuticals distributor and the only European board created to regulate the creation of genetically engineered products and also clones."

"I don't see the problem," I interjected, "In this day and age every company is somehow linked to another."

"Yes, but that's not all!" Peter exclaimed, "I was going over the old files for Molmally a few weeks ago- just general perusing, trying to find out where they got all their technology, all their supplies- and a new company's name came up: Galsbury Inc. They provided some of the rarer chemicals for the toxehedrants for Llewenden-Murray. Furthermore, Galsbury is a branch of Acorn! Don't you see?"

"Couldn't this all be coincidence though? Couldn't it all just be business? Like, Galsbury was the only one who could make those chemicals and it just so happens-" Seras offered.

"No, it can't be! It isn't merely coincidence! Acorn was opened up by a German company in the 20s, Molmally GMAA was created when the same German company and Molmally partnered together, and Molmally GMAA were the ones that opened up Llewenden-Murray!"

"What's this German company?" Peter clicked on a new tab and a large word spread across the screen, Seras sucked in her breath. 'Millennium'.

"To further this uncanny coincidence, I'm pretty sure that Molly was in one of their research facilities during the second world war."

"Which one?"

"It was known as the Isles, I think. One of the worst research facilities known to occult creatures- the tests were more like torture than anything else. But that's besides the point…Do you understand what this means?"

"They're everywhere." Seras answered as we turned to look at the screen. Molmally, Merris, Llewenden-Murray, Acorn, Millennium, Galsbury and several other companies: Fraser Technology, the Xeno Project - a research project being carried out in the US to see if there are any biological similarities between occult beings and humans- The Dean Facilities, to name a few, were all somehow connected to Millennium and all these companies we key components in numerous experiments, organisations and research projects all over the globe.

To further Hellsing's need for panick: Merris had always been given our information. They had our medical records, they supplied us, they knew about Molly- and if they knew where Molly was and they were somehow linked to the old research facility that she had escaped from in the 40s, then they must have gotten through to Faust and Midori to abduct Molly. It made more sense. However it was a horrific idea.

If this was all true, then millennium's last scheme to destroy England and the world could have merely been a way of lulling us into a false sense of security, of getting Molly into the open- but why would they need her?

Her blood was the key component in the creation of the toxehedrants, the Creatures and the veritable menagerie of freakish creations!

Peter's face seemed to even tinge with green at this prospect, Seras was glaring at the screen with such anger and fear that the vampire in her seemed to have been stripped away completely. "Are you going to tell Integra, or am I?" I asked, sensing Peter's apprehension of retelling this horror to his boss.

"N-no, I'll do it. She's still busy. She won't want to see you at the moment." Peter nods and stands up shakily. "This.-" Peter sighed, "This doesn't bode well for Hellsing, does it?"

"It does not." I answered sombrely, the white letters across the top of the screen burnt into my retinas.

Even a day later as I endeavoured to sleep, 'Millennium' still flashed up in the darkness of my closed eyelids. Anger swelled within me though collided with a thrill- another fight. One that appeared to be more taxing than the last. I couldn't help but feel some sort of excitement, I'd be a key player in saving Britain once more and thus destroying hundreds and thousands of enemies. It would be utterly delicious!

Peter did not specify as to how Integra reacted, but all of their supplies were destroyed and further supply deliveries were cancelled- thank God Integra had organised for the supplies to be dropped off at the remains of the Surrey Hospital. We were then made to stoop to steal our supplies from nearby hospitals, to steal through the night and act like criminals. But , in the new ruling of the state, we were.

A/N: Dun-dun-duuuuuuun. Well, the next chapter boasts to be the BIG chapter which very few people know about…. Because of my stupid fat mouth ¬_¬ But for those that don't know…wait and seeee… though it may be the big chapter leading on to the BIIIIIG chapter…. Bear with me. Is it bear? Or bare? *sigh* We need a new word, why not bair… cos you have the growl bear, naked bare and the bear of 'bear with me'. Why is the English language riddled with homonyms?!

Right, my cat has to take this stupid worming pill and we've tried being kind and lacing it in her food: she ate the first one, the second one she licked and then refused to eat all day and the third…is not going so well. Looks like I'm going to have to help mum forc it down her throat *teary eyed* I can't do that to her, though! She'd already a scaredy cat as it is…. Any tips from cat people? Just grab her and open her mouth? *cringe* I really can't do it….