The sensation of fishhooks through his body, pulling him along their wires, was nothing especially new to him. It was a sensation brought forward every time he was summoned by his masters and did not immediately act on his own will. It was simply the feel of magic taking hold of him under the command of a more powerful force.

It happened often enough to him that the uncomfortable feeling was no longer unexpected. Normally, he responded to Integra without much hesitation to avoid discomfort. Alucard, however, was not above enduring pain just to irritate Integra. There were times she would summon him without answer. He would purposefully ignore her call. Alucard would make her wait a few extra seconds, until he was forced to answer by the seal's fishhooks.

Then, of course, she would summon him while he was sleeping. When he wasn't prepared for the sensation, it was always more than unpleasant.

Alucard started awake, instincts screaming. He writhed, twisting into anatomically impossible positions in an effort to relieve or escape the pain. While the pain itself was nothing too great, the shock of waking under such circumstances was frightening.

Once it wore off, Alucard lay flat on his back, working to recover himself from being dragged from the safety of his coffin while sleeping, for whatever unimportant task Integra desired while the sun still owned the sky.

"Was that really necessary?" he asked, and listened to the echo of his own voice respond.

He didn't hear her heartbeat, and was finally bewildered enough to open his eyes. Nothing had changed. He lay beside his coffin, staring at the stone ceiling. Alucard sat up, frowning and looking around to inspect his surroundings. Out of habit, he reached mental fingers out to Integra. Following the ethereal leash that bound them together, he found his master's end empty. Unheld. His master was missing. Not dead, not hiding from him. Gone. Not even a successor. Alucard was unsure what to make of such a discovery.

"Master?" Despite the strange realization, he still called for her, and only heard the echo of his own confusion in answer.

The vampire's confusion did not alleviate as he rose to his feet, turning slowly to inspect his room. Something very curious grabbed his attention. His coffin was not his coffin. Yet, it was. He felt the connection with it, but visually he knew this was wrong. It was one of many familiar, old crates he'd used as a coffin, over a century ago when he'd visited England and encountered the hunters responsible for his internment with the Hellsing family. Abraham had destroyed all but one while the men hunted him.

For a moment, Alucard wondered if he could possibly be hallucinating. His mind was unstable, and he saw shadows and memories from time to time. This was far more detailed than he'd experienced for quite some time. Alucard approached the crate, brushing a hand over it attempting to determine if it was real. This was the coffin he'd been captured in. The very same which Abraham had used to ship him from Romania back to England like some kind of luggage. The marks of holy items and chains used to keep him inside were still marked over its surface.

Why would he hallucinate such an odd detail? He'd not used this box for so long, and he'd been under the seal for less than a year before Abraham had destroyed it. Alucard was used to seeing strange visions at the edge of his sight, or hearing the voice of long dead masters. This made no sense. Always he understood the lies for what they were. Simply signs of his insanity. Scars upon his mind that would never heal.

Voices echoed beyond his door, and Alucard straightened to hide within the deep shadows to listen.

"…perfect sense. I do not understand your methods, Professor, but I cannot argue your logic."

The voice was so very familiar. Alucard tilted his head to the side, scraping his memory to place the voice.

"You will in due time, Doctor."

Cold fear seized his limbs. That was a voice he'd never forget. Abraham. The second voice became very clear to him with that realization. Doctor John Seward. Both men who had passed away over a century ago. This was more than a simple hallucination brought on by memories. Their voices were too clear, and far more precise than his unstable mind could concoct. Alucard breathed in to capture the scent and taste of the air. The two hunters walked past his door, continuing their conversation.

How was this possible? It was as if he'd been dragged deep into his past. Alucard listened to the men retreat through the hallways. Looking down at the familiar coffin, Alucard crouched and opened it. Breathing in the strong scent of his homeland he questioned how real the scene before him had become. What was this?

He closed the coffin and turned to slip through the doorway. Scents so long gone assaulted his senses fresh. Abraham's strong scent of leather, gunpowder, and chemicals. He smelled like death, but not as a human knew it. A danger, another predator. Alucard slipped away, moving in the direction the two men had traveled from. These halls were well known to him. Every stone and crack just another friend. These halls had been his home for over a century. The only question in his mind now was which century he was currently in. This was no hallucination. Things were far too perfect. Details even his mind would not create in a figment of his memory.

No other humans moved through the hallways. This was some time before Abraham would build his young organization, before support from the monarchy. Alucard paused outside the last cell of the lowest dungeons. This space held his scent. But the scent suggested him as a weaker creature than he currently was. It was strange to scent his own at two different phases of his life. He couldn't hear sound beyond the door but he knew what was beyond it.

Himself. Freshly captured by the humans who were, no doubt, relaxing in the upper levels.

Alucard backed away and retreated back to the crate of soil. Here he felt some small semblance of safety. Abraham, or any of the others, would likely not visit here for a few weeks. He settled himself on the lid, clasping his hands and leaning forward in deep thought.

This was no work of deranged imagination. Something, somehow, had thrust him into his past. It was one of the darker times, the one he'd feared above all. Why? Why was he here? What purpose would this serve? He wasn't even reliving this but just another participant. How would time handle two of him?

Alucard feared making himself known to Abraham and the others. Fears he had buried long ago began surfacing. The fear of hunters once more tailing him through darkened streets and mist veiled forests. He'd originally met the group with the same amused haughtiness he'd faced all hunters with. That was until he'd been defeated.

Had Abraham, in his experimentation of occult, mistakenly summoned him here? Were that the case, wouldn't this same event have happened in his past as well? Abraham never seemed distracted. But if the professor were the reason he'd been brought here, Alucard worried he'd need to confront him. Facing Abraham again did not sound inviting. Would the man believe him at all or think him some trick of the younger Dracula? And the ultimate question: Would Abraham help him at all?