*kicks random objects..* Stupid windows for not saving my fic correctly and
stupid ff.net for not allowing me to just replace my chapter.
So dear readers, disregard those last two terrible paragraphs from the previous chapter. THIS written below is what was meant to have been said. Those two paragraphs were my weird little way of reminding myself where I wanted to go. They were never meant to be published. Ever.
But please dear readers, just read this epiloge/end of chapter 8, and then after disregarding those two last paragraphs of chapter 8, review and let me know how I did, though I apparently am an idiot when it comes to technology.
~*~*~*~*~
Walter sat at the bedside of his master, reading the daily news to Sir Integra as she lay bandaged in a hospital bed at one of the local facilities. Thanks to Walter's quick actions, the police and medical teams arrived at Hellsing Manor before Anderson and McCallister had even left the premises and were able to rush the injured soldiers as well as Integral to the hospitals nearby to treat the wounds received in the massacre by the priests.
Walter even insisted that they take Father Harrison to the hospital, for though he had suffered an injury that would most likely leave the fledgling regenerator with some sort of permanent mental injury, his body had already began to heal the wound from the bullet to his head and the blessed blade to his chest.
"It seems you received another letter of apology from the Vatican as well Sir Integra." Walter smiled as he finished the newspaper articles of interest and began thumbing through the pieces of mail brought from home. Tearing open the envelope along the edge, he pulled the crisp parchment from its enclosure, unfolding it carefully. "Yes, that is exactly what it is. They still wish to cover up this whole incident though, because the Archdiocese that both priests belong to doesn't need more scandal."
Integral just glared at Walter. She had been lucky to survive Anderson's attack at all, for the blade had just missed her jugular, hitting instead her esophagus and trachea. She could not eat but through IV fluid nor could she speak now, and though the doctors were working hard to give her both of these functions back again, Walter had overheard the men and women sighing over the futility of the project.
"My feelings exactly Sir Integra." Walter smiled kindly at her. "I think we should press charges, and perhaps a lawsuit is in order against the Vatican."
The newly muted Integral smirked and winked, assuming Walter would understand her meaning, still unable to do much from the heavy painkillers the doctors were keeping her on constantly.
"Dear me, I don't know if we can get Maxwell involved in the scandal. Section Thirteen does not exist, just as Hellsing does not exist. You of all people should understand that.." Walter chuckled as he realized how she planned her revenge. "Oh. Right. Harrison, yes, he's still in the hospital, but I'm certain he'd accidentally tell the authorities how he received those implants."
Integral rolled her eyes. His plan was all right, but definitely not what she had in mind. If Alucard were here, he could translate her thoughts in to speech. Unfortunately, it was just after noon so Alucard would be asleep.
She had been upset with Alucard when he first came to her in the hospital, asking if she felt well enough to leave or if she needed anything he could get for her, because of the fact he disappeared and left her for dead. The vampire tried to explain that she would have been even more upset if he would have given her the blood, but rationality never did seem to set well with an irrational mind.
Oh well, Integral thought as she sighed, slipping down further on her hospital bed. Walter could talk to himself for all she cared right now, for she had finally received the upper hand for negotiations with the Catholics.
~*~*~*~*~
Alexander Anderson sat alone in the padded white cell of the prison mental facilities, tired, ragged, and incredibly bored. He had watched his comrade Father McCallister surrender to the police at Hellsing Manor, confessing to assisting with murders, and that he was incredibly sorry for all that occurred because of him, and Anderson was certain that it was for this reason alone that McCallister was already back in America, but being transferred to a new diocese somewhere in the Midwest.
Was this to be how Father Alexander Anderson would end? The priest mused over the thought for some time over the past week that he had been alone in the cell with no more than one guard to give him meals three times a day as his company. Surely, God had better plans for his humble servant, but the days passed and it appeared that more or less the Vatican had excommunicated him already for his misactions at Hellsing Manor.
Pulling a crystal rosary from hidden in his pocket, Anderson began to pray, turning the dainty beads in his fingers as he began his repentance. He had killed innocents in his quest to rid the world of its demonic plagues, and atonement and absolution could be all he could hope for before he died, for he would go to Hell with his bloodstained hands.
As the words of his prayers slipped mechanically from his lips, he wondered if Harrison was still alive. Alucard had not drained his blood, so there could be a chance that the priest was clinging to life somewhere, if he was not fully healed by this time.
Perhaps if he had waited for Pennington and Fitzpatrick to arrive the results would have been different. But would two more regenerators have really turned the odds against Hellsing? He could only wonder as he continued the prayers.
He didn't know if Miss Hellsing was dead or alive either, though that would be one of the murders he would be accused of if she did truly depart from the world of the living. The aim was not to kill her though, and Anderson was certain that he did not hit any vital arteries or veins where he stabbed her. Perhaps he should ask one of the guards when they delivered his meals.
And of course, Alucard was still undead. This was by far the most disturbing fact of the matter, for now no matter where he would go after prison, the vampire would hunt him wanting revenge for harming the woman he serves.
But Anderson just smirked. Death would be better than prison and excommunication, and while at prison, Anderson did not stand a chance of escape from his undead rival.
"Amen." Throwing his rosary against the wall, Anderson just smirked as the crystal beads shattered, scattering around the room. God did not exist anymore, if he ever existed at all. That was the only fact that Alexander Anderson knew to be the absolute truth.
So dear readers, disregard those last two terrible paragraphs from the previous chapter. THIS written below is what was meant to have been said. Those two paragraphs were my weird little way of reminding myself where I wanted to go. They were never meant to be published. Ever.
But please dear readers, just read this epiloge/end of chapter 8, and then after disregarding those two last paragraphs of chapter 8, review and let me know how I did, though I apparently am an idiot when it comes to technology.
~*~*~*~*~
Walter sat at the bedside of his master, reading the daily news to Sir Integra as she lay bandaged in a hospital bed at one of the local facilities. Thanks to Walter's quick actions, the police and medical teams arrived at Hellsing Manor before Anderson and McCallister had even left the premises and were able to rush the injured soldiers as well as Integral to the hospitals nearby to treat the wounds received in the massacre by the priests.
Walter even insisted that they take Father Harrison to the hospital, for though he had suffered an injury that would most likely leave the fledgling regenerator with some sort of permanent mental injury, his body had already began to heal the wound from the bullet to his head and the blessed blade to his chest.
"It seems you received another letter of apology from the Vatican as well Sir Integra." Walter smiled as he finished the newspaper articles of interest and began thumbing through the pieces of mail brought from home. Tearing open the envelope along the edge, he pulled the crisp parchment from its enclosure, unfolding it carefully. "Yes, that is exactly what it is. They still wish to cover up this whole incident though, because the Archdiocese that both priests belong to doesn't need more scandal."
Integral just glared at Walter. She had been lucky to survive Anderson's attack at all, for the blade had just missed her jugular, hitting instead her esophagus and trachea. She could not eat but through IV fluid nor could she speak now, and though the doctors were working hard to give her both of these functions back again, Walter had overheard the men and women sighing over the futility of the project.
"My feelings exactly Sir Integra." Walter smiled kindly at her. "I think we should press charges, and perhaps a lawsuit is in order against the Vatican."
The newly muted Integral smirked and winked, assuming Walter would understand her meaning, still unable to do much from the heavy painkillers the doctors were keeping her on constantly.
"Dear me, I don't know if we can get Maxwell involved in the scandal. Section Thirteen does not exist, just as Hellsing does not exist. You of all people should understand that.." Walter chuckled as he realized how she planned her revenge. "Oh. Right. Harrison, yes, he's still in the hospital, but I'm certain he'd accidentally tell the authorities how he received those implants."
Integral rolled her eyes. His plan was all right, but definitely not what she had in mind. If Alucard were here, he could translate her thoughts in to speech. Unfortunately, it was just after noon so Alucard would be asleep.
She had been upset with Alucard when he first came to her in the hospital, asking if she felt well enough to leave or if she needed anything he could get for her, because of the fact he disappeared and left her for dead. The vampire tried to explain that she would have been even more upset if he would have given her the blood, but rationality never did seem to set well with an irrational mind.
Oh well, Integral thought as she sighed, slipping down further on her hospital bed. Walter could talk to himself for all she cared right now, for she had finally received the upper hand for negotiations with the Catholics.
~*~*~*~*~
Alexander Anderson sat alone in the padded white cell of the prison mental facilities, tired, ragged, and incredibly bored. He had watched his comrade Father McCallister surrender to the police at Hellsing Manor, confessing to assisting with murders, and that he was incredibly sorry for all that occurred because of him, and Anderson was certain that it was for this reason alone that McCallister was already back in America, but being transferred to a new diocese somewhere in the Midwest.
Was this to be how Father Alexander Anderson would end? The priest mused over the thought for some time over the past week that he had been alone in the cell with no more than one guard to give him meals three times a day as his company. Surely, God had better plans for his humble servant, but the days passed and it appeared that more or less the Vatican had excommunicated him already for his misactions at Hellsing Manor.
Pulling a crystal rosary from hidden in his pocket, Anderson began to pray, turning the dainty beads in his fingers as he began his repentance. He had killed innocents in his quest to rid the world of its demonic plagues, and atonement and absolution could be all he could hope for before he died, for he would go to Hell with his bloodstained hands.
As the words of his prayers slipped mechanically from his lips, he wondered if Harrison was still alive. Alucard had not drained his blood, so there could be a chance that the priest was clinging to life somewhere, if he was not fully healed by this time.
Perhaps if he had waited for Pennington and Fitzpatrick to arrive the results would have been different. But would two more regenerators have really turned the odds against Hellsing? He could only wonder as he continued the prayers.
He didn't know if Miss Hellsing was dead or alive either, though that would be one of the murders he would be accused of if she did truly depart from the world of the living. The aim was not to kill her though, and Anderson was certain that he did not hit any vital arteries or veins where he stabbed her. Perhaps he should ask one of the guards when they delivered his meals.
And of course, Alucard was still undead. This was by far the most disturbing fact of the matter, for now no matter where he would go after prison, the vampire would hunt him wanting revenge for harming the woman he serves.
But Anderson just smirked. Death would be better than prison and excommunication, and while at prison, Anderson did not stand a chance of escape from his undead rival.
"Amen." Throwing his rosary against the wall, Anderson just smirked as the crystal beads shattered, scattering around the room. God did not exist anymore, if he ever existed at all. That was the only fact that Alexander Anderson knew to be the absolute truth.