Author's Note: Augh, sorry I haven't updated in a while. I haven't written much cuz I've been so damn distracted. My little brother's birthday was this month (ah, the terrible twos...really fun, y'know?). But I got a kitty :D. He's a pain in the ass too but he's cute so it's alright lol.

I pretty much wrote this chapter in 2 days cuz I felt bad for like...abandoning my story lol. And even though it's not the best, some people like it...and I don't want to ignore them. I may make alot of mistakes, but some people look through that and just follow the story as it is. Thanks guys! I love it when people aren't picky lol.

There's more swearing in this chapter than the others, I believe...so just...just beware.

I awoke the next morning, stretched out across the bed, covers tangled up all around me. Obviously I had a rough night's sleep. I couldn't remember what I dreamt about, but I felt that something was worrying me.

Searching through my thoughts frantically, I found the problem. Maxwell wanted us to go after Integra, and I was not cool with that. I sat up, ambushed by the sudden dizziness and blackening vision of moving too fast after sleeping, and turned to see Anderson sleeping in the other bed, on his back, no blanket out of place.

My watch said 6:30, which was a good time for me to get up, but he usually slept until at least 7:30.

"Well that's just too damn bad," I said audibly, swinging my feet over the edge of the bed and stomping slightly over to Anderson to try and wake him that way. He twitched, but no success just yet. I was rather glad that that hadn't worked. There are far more entertaining methods to get people to wake up.

Luckily for me, his mouth was closed. Smirking, I held up my hand and wiggled my fingers dramatically (even though I was the only conscious being in the room so it wasn't really that dramatic). Ever so slowly, I lowered my hand until it was inches from his face. My grin broadened and I pinched his nose, holding it as he shuddered.

His face twitched and I began to giggle. I made sure my fingers didn't loosen their grip so he couldn't breathe at all. Finally his eyes and mouth tore open and he gasped for breath as he sat up forcefully.

"What the hell are you doing!?" he asked as he rubbed his nose (and I wiped my fingers off on his blankets…I don't care if his nose was clean or not).

"…Good morning," I said with a smile. He glared at me as I beamed. Realizing that his glowering could not win, he shook his head and smiled as well.

"What time is it?" he asked, rubbing his eyes.

"6:30," I replied as I sat back on my bed.

"Well why'd you wake me up so early?" he questioned, pretty much already over the fact that I almost suffocated him.

"I wanted to get to training as soon as possible," I answered promptly. Anderson sighed and threw the covers off of him, revealing his basic black pajamas. He stood up and crossed the room to his dresser.

"I've got to do something first," he declared, opening a drawer and grabbing what he needed without struggle (unlike myself who always had trouble sifting through my jumbled clothing). "You get yourself ready and meet me at our usual spot in about 45 minutes."

I nodded obediently and leapt to my feet, saluting in jest. Anderson chuckled and exited the room, leaving me to sit around for a few minutes before heading to the clearing in the woods. There was really nothing I had to do to get myself ready-- I had no pajamas to change out of…and I was ready as all hell to get moving so I could get my revenge already.

In conclusion, instead of lying around for 20 minutes, I left early for the "training grounds." Maxwell was nowhere to be found when I stepped out of the bedroom (thank goodness), but I snuck out quietly nonetheless in fear of his popping out of nowhere and sucking me into some sort of conversation in which I had to conjure up some good comebacks. I wasn't really in the mood for that.

As I entered the elevator, I noticed that I had some fellow travelers, coming from a floor up above. They stared at me, either in disgust, fear or concern, I couldn't tell. I stayed silent for a few moments, ignoring their incessant gawking.

"What?" I asked, finally giving in to their ceaseless interest.

The taller of the two, the man, began to reach his hand out to point at me, but stopped himself and patted his chest. I looked quizzically at him, and when my expression caught his eye, he began to stutter.

"Uhh, uhm…are you alright?"

"Wh--" I began, but looked down at my chest, realizing what he was getting at. My bullet wound had healed almost all the way, but my sweatshirt was still torn and bloody. Why hadn't Anderson offered to replace my clothes, damn it? "Oh, that? It's uhm…it's ketchup."

The elevator ding rang out and the doors opened. I scurried out before the two others, leaving them looking perplexed as they were shut in again. I couldn't help but laugh as I walked out of the hotel doors.

The streets were filled with more gaping passersby, but none of them confronted me about my pronounced damage. It felt neat, like I was-- well I was walking dead, so yeah. But it did make me feel pretty badass.

I looked at my watch again. 6:45. If Anderson said to meet him in 45 minutes from 6:30, he probably meant at around 7:15. Well, that left a bit of time to screw around.

What was there to do, though? I didn't have any money, because I don't carry it with me on missions so I left it all back at the Hellsing estate. Ehh, money can't buy all entertainment.

Lost in thought once again, I was brought back to reality by the sound of a single screech. I shook my head and spun around to face the direction of the source. A woman had fainted on the sidewalk behind me. Three people rushed over immediately to help her. Figuring that I had nothing to do anyways, I ambled over to the accumulating crowd.

An old lady got the woman to regain consciousness. When she did, a man asked her what happened. Someone decided to step right in front of me, so, snarling as I did so, I squeezed myself between two abnormally tall people to get a better look. My movement caught the woman's attention, and when she saw me, she gasped and pointed. Instantaneously, all eyes were on me. Great.

"OH MY GOD!" some man decided to yell upon seeing my scarlet-stained attire. "Are you alright!?"

Humans came from every angle, trying to offer me their help. Instead of freaking out from claustrophobia, I laughed.

"This? It's just a scratch," I said facetiously. "I'll be fine."

"You don't look fine to me," one particularly too-perfect looking woman said apprehensively. She grabbed my arm. "We have to get you to a hos-- you're so cold! You must've lost gallons of blood!"

"Huh? Nah, I'm always this cold, really," I argued, trying to pull away. Damn it, why did I have to dilly-dally?

"No, no…someone call an ambulance!"

Ahhh, shit. With little strength, I slid my arm out of her grasp (with caution, seeing as it was the one I had to heal back on), and began running in the direction of the woods. They all called after me, and a few tried to pursue me, but I ran far to fast for them. If my memory serves me, they gave up after a few blocks.

Effortlessly, I reached the clearing, grumbling as I skidded to a halt in the center. Anderson was already there. It was 7:05.

"Eager, are we?" he asked me from a limb of one of the remaining upright trees.

"Oh yeah," I replied with a thumbs up.

"Good, because today's training is going to be a little different," Anderson informed me, descending from the branch and landing perfectly on the ground before me. Two shadowy figures emerged from the leaves behind him. They were both dressed as Anderson was, but didn't look quite as intimidating. "You're going to fight these two."

"But I don't have my sword," I reminded him. Strolling around the city with a visible weapon is mostly frowned upon.

"I know," he responded. "you wouldn't be needing it either way."

As he promised, the day's training did not require my sword. Anderson didn't want any of us to actually be maimed, so he went out that morning to buy some plastic ninja swords and nerf guns. In the end, we had three broken ninja swords and about 30 long-lost nerf darts (they never seem to hit your target-- especially when there's wind involved). But it was a pretty fair fight (for two against one).

"You two head back, I'd like to stay and have a word with Zinautha," Anderson ordered the other Iscariots at about 1:00 in the afternoon. That's not fair-- they got to know my name, but no one bothered to introduce me to them…ah, well, who cares.

They both zipped off without a word. I felt someone swoop me up from behind, and the wind pummeled the top of my head as I soared upwards. Upon landing, I was set down on a tree limb. I caught my breath and looked up to see Anderson laughing at me.

"You coulda warned me, you know?" I grumbled as he grinned.

"I'm well aware of that," he replied. "but it's much more fun that way."

"Heh, I'm sure," I retorted, glowering in mock irritation. "So what did you want to talk to me about?"

"Well, as you know, you're training to get back at Alucard," I nodded at the obvious fact, anxious to hear the good and/or bad news. "it's up to you when it happens. Whenever you feel you're ready, we'll do it."

"Well hell, if you'd told me sooner we'd be done with that already."

"You probably wouldn't have succeeded if we'd gone earlier than this," Anderson chuckled. "I believe that this training session showed how ready you seem. But if you think you need more time, it's no rush."

"Are you kidding me!?" I exclaimed, nearly losing my balance. "I'd go right now if I didn't feel so weak-- I haven't had any blood for a while."

"Oh, you're right. I'll see what I can do about that," he said, lifting a huge weight off my shoulders. I thought I'd never be able to drink blood again-- and if I didn't, I wouldn't be able to face Alucard. "but there's one more thing. Maxwell is alright with our revenge plan, but he also wants us t--"

"I know," I interrupted, my troubled thoughts from the previous night swarming back. I couldn't stand hearing a story twice, even if I wasn't supposed to hear it the first time.

"Are you alright with it?"

"What? Of course not!" I snapped, finally able to talk to someone about that bothersome plan. "Neither Integra, nor Walter, nor anyone else at Hellsing deserve to be killed! Alucard's the only one who ever hurt me and Maxwell has no business in changing our vengeance plot!"

"That's exactly what I thought. I told him I wasn't sure that we could accomplish that. He shouldn't be upset if we tell him it's not going to happen."

"Damn straight it's not going to happen," I shouted, jumping down to the ground and landing a bit less gracefully than Anderson had earlier. "I'm going to give that son of a bitch a piece of my mind right now. He doesn't get to control everything."

I dashed quickly all the way to the city sidewalks, followed by Anderson the whole time. My energy was decreasing with each stride but I was too incensed to really be weakened by it. My mentor caught up with me momentarily, keeping my pace, which was still slower than his normal rate no matter how hastily I stomped down the concrete.

I tore up the hotel steps and ripped the door open. The elevator couldn't come soon enough and the hallway seemed to have been stretched since I left that morning. Anderson fell behind a bit when I jogged angrily to the door of our room. I stood waiting for him to get the key, crossing my arms and tapping my foot on the overly elaborate carpet.

When the door was open, I thrust myself through it and opened my mouth to shout relentlessly at the foul figure of Maxwell. But I stopped myself. The room was unusually dim, only lit by a few candles on the coffee table. The Section 13 Iscariot leader's grin was illuminated by the flames, and I clenched my teeth.

"Ah, there you are," he purred, my roaring hatred causing me to flinch. "Care for a drink?"

My eyes narrowed loathingly. And then I saw it. Maxwell lifted it high so I could see it. A plastic pouch filled with the red liquid I coveted most. And there it was, dangling from the pinched fingers of that revolting man.

"Thirsty, are you?" he continued, his dreadful voice attempting to sound genial. "Weak?"

I gulped, trying stubbornly to resist the urge to calm myself and gratefully take the bag in my hands, sipping the godly fluid. I shook my head and dug my nails into my palms. I said nothing but glared at him with all my might. I felt Anderson's nervous presence still behind me in the doorway.

His shadow shifted slightly from side to side, obviously unsure of what to do with himself. I held my silence, hearing Maxwell begin to laugh softly. The fury I felt was seemingly untamable, but I kept my cool on the outside.

"Well then, you may have it…but only under one condition," he spoke again, his scheming voice enraging me even further. "you must join us…you must become a part of the Iscariot."