Chapter three notes: I still don't own Hellsing and I had to sell my soul for money to buy cigarettes and Ramen… Enjoy!
Anderson had been brooding in near silence for the better part of a week since his last encounter with the Hellsing pet vampire. He was stricter than usual with the boys at Saint Sebastian's orphanage, enforcing an early curfew with threats of time spent in Cardinal Nachtmann's office writing reports on the influence of the Church within modern Roman society and its effect on the overall economy of the City State. With these new terms in place, he would retire to the windowless 12x12 room that had been his home for the last fifty years or so and pour over his books and articles and the files he'd gleaned from the Vatican Archives. There must be something here that could help, some clue, some weakness noted and overlooked, that would lead to the defeat of the monster Alucard. He was obsessed. More than usual. And Father Maxwell was taking notice.
"I find your lack of concentration on other matters quite disconcerting, Paladin Anderson. This…interest you are taking in the Hellsing Organization's chief agent is becoming unhealthy. Granted, they have been the major concern of Iscariot, but with their recent near-obliteration, they hardly pose a threat at the present time."
"Would you have me ignore the creature, Enrico? Isn't it my job to destroy all vampires? It is the most powerful thing we've come up against in more than thirty years—since before you were born. I daresay since before World War II. Do you want that sort of evil lurking about unchecked?" Anderson raised an eyebrow at the other man, challenging him.
"We do have other concerns, Alexander."
"And other agents to handle them. Whatever it is, send Heinkel and Yumiko."
Enrico Maxwell flexed his jaw, seething at his lack of control over his supposed puppet and clenched a fist briefly.
"Very well, Anderson. But should you return to England without the grant of Section XIII, you will have no alliance and no immunity against any actions Hellsing takes against you, legal or otherwise. That is to say, Father, you will be on your own."
It felt a bit…inappropriate not to be dressed in the usual garments of his station, but Anderson was quite at ease in "civilian" clothing, trying to remain somewhat inconspicuous among the crowds of London. Of course, being seven foot three didn't help that at all, and he was certain Hellsing was already aware of his presence here. He'd taken up residence in a cheap hotel with a single duffle of clothing and toiletries and what little money he'd come up with before leaving home. He realized how convenient it'd been to have the Vatican's funds to back him up on his missions before.
Activity here was slow, it seemed. No vampires to fight, no Freaks…just the Hellsings and their aggravating state of dormancy. If he were going to face Alucard, he'd have to go out and find the thing himself. The pubs seemed as good a place as any to start, and a few hours later he found himself stumbling through dark, wet alleyways, lost and looking for his hotel with nothing better to show for than a minor drunken brawl at some tavern or other. Damned vampires. Damned Hellsing Organization, damned Vatican and Section XIII and their bloody experiments. Damned toothache… He tongued the roof of his mouth and then paused and lifted his head. Something dark and red-tinted swam into his shaky vision.
"Well. So there you are after all, monster." He grinned and blinked slowly, dropping forward against a wall as his head swam. "It's about time you showed up, but damnit, now I'm too drunk to fight. Come back tomorrow."
The vampire grinned back, hands thrust into his pockets.
"I hadn't imagined you could get drunk, Father. Amusing. And what's to stop me from filling your braincase with lead just to see if two clips full will keep you down for good?"
Anderson blinked and thought hard a moment. "It wouldn't be any fun for you that way." He laughed "And I know how much you enjoy your little challenges. Of course, I could sober up like I heal a wound if I wanted, but that'd be a waste of the money I paid to get drunk in the first place."
Alucard strode forward, a fluid, graceful motion that seemed to require little or no effort from his legs, his mouth all fangs and smiles.
"I couldn't persuade you? You are so much fun and I'm rather bored. Look, I've even brought extra ammunition…" he parted one side of his ridiculous red coat to show a row of clips secured in the lining. "Just for you."
The vampire grinned again and reached a hand out toward the priest. It was slapped away before it got anywhere near him and he was met with the smoldering emerald glare of the blond man, suddenly clear-eyed and sober, one corner of his mouth turned down in a vicious display of disgust. Anderson stood up straight and took half a step back, giving himself room to maneuver should he need to do so.
"My, what interesting attire you've come along with this time, Catholic. Where are your Holy garments? The uniform of your Devine Army? In a word, your costume."
The creature Alucard chuckled softly to himself, casually producing one of his handguns—the Jackal, Anderson noted—and checking the clip.
He didn't bother to look up when the other man growled and lashed out with an inexplicably produced blade, instead he merely shifted himself somehow, without moving, out of the way. The silver blade sang out as it came into contact with the alley wall and then scraped shrilly against it when it was drawn back. Anderson spat toward the vampire and huffed.
"You're one to talk of costumes, with that flamboyant greatcoat of yours. Hmph. Does your master—or is it mistress—approve of you nancing about making a bloody show of yourself in that thing?" he sneered, blades hanging loosely at his sides. "Hellsing hardly needs more attention drawn to itself in its present state."
Alucard raised his gun and fired one round directly into the Paladin's leering face, sending him onto his back with a gurgled grunt. He waited for the man to recover and get back up on his feet.
"Shall we continue this, Father, or are you quite over your fit of madness? But then, that's how they made you, isn't it. Sic Evil, boy." The creature laughed "Yours isn't to question or decide, only to do as your told. Am I right?"
The priest ground his teeth together almost audibly and lurched forward. He halted in his motions as an electronic rendition of "Salve Regina" sang out from the pocket of his jeans. He growled, annoyed, and fumbled for his cell phone. Alucard smirked, and after a short, barked conversation in Italian with whomever was on the other end, Anderson shoved the little device back into his pocket and grumbled.
"For being on my own here, the Vatican certainly seems to be keeping quite close tabs on me." He muttered.
"Oh, don't tell me you're not allowed to play, Paladin." The vampire hummed out that annoying, condescending chuckle that made Anderson want to shove a fist through the thing's chest and pull his windpipe out down through the hole. He gritted his teeth.
"I do as I please, monster."
"Of course you do. Dinner perhaps? I know you need all that food to keep you going."
Alucard returned his gun to wherever he'd gotten it from in the first place and replaced it with a lit cigarette somehow. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and left the cigarette hanging loosely in his lips, curling smoke up about his features, eyes half-lidded. He turned to make his way back up the alley.
"Well?" he asked and looked over his shoulder. "Don't tell me you're not hungry, I know better. You didn't eat with all that alcohol you had…but then, you don't get sick, do you. Human." Again he hummed that damnable chuckle as Anderson reluctantly and wordlessly followed.