Disclaimer: Hellsing and it's characters are not mine
Warning: Some of the characters are a little out of character (ducks to avoid flames ()
Ch 1: The New Arrival
The air felt like a wet heavy blanket over the English countryside and muffled the sounds that would normally be associated with a country road like this one. The chirping of the birds and insects sounded far away and muted. The air was still and warm with barely any breeze to disturb it. The silence was abruptly shattered by the loud sound of a motorcycle roaring along the road as if trying to create its own breeze and escape the stifling blanket that hung over everything. Seconds later the machine creating the noise sped by, creating a cloud of dust that settled back to the ground almost as soon as it had been stirred. The rider had a good reason to be in a hurry as she was running later than she wished to report to her new employer. She had heard that the head of the company, if it could be called a company, was not one to trifle with. As she hurried toward her destination, she concentrated on the machine that was carrying her there. Constance had long ago learned to treat the machine as an extension of herself and had no difficulty riding under any circumstances, but she thought to herself that the cycle's engine would need adjusting to compensate for the higher humidity in this country.
Moments later, Constance reached the gatehouse of an imposing-looking mansion. She showed identification to the guard on duty and was waved through. She rode around the house to find a place where she could leave her bike. She saw a smaller building with automobiles and cycles parked around it. She also saw several vehicles that looked like they belonged in the desert with a war-weary army rather than at a place like this. The vehicles that caught her eye were HumVees and Jeeps, mostly. She rode up to the garage and slipped the bike into a space that appeared to be unused. As she dismounted and pulled the helmet off of her head, she heard the familiar sound of a car that was resisting all attempts to start it. She checked her watch, and much to her relief, was quite a bit early for her appointment. She wiped the back of her hand across her brow and took a better look at the mansion that she would be living and working in. It had a very square appearance with structures that resembled towers on each corner. It was at least three stories high, causing the new arrival to wonder how many people it would take to maintain a house like this.
Her reverie was broken by the car attempting to start again and having no luck. Since she was no longer in a hurry, she made her way to the open garage door that the sound was coming from. As her eyes adjusted to the relative darkness of the garage, she spotted the car that refused to start. It was a Bentley, somewhat aged but looking to be in perfect condition. Truly a thing of beauty. She was so caught up in staring at the gorgeous machine that she did not notice a man in a chauffeur's uniform approach her.
"Can I help you?" he asked in a gruff voice, startling her and causing her to jump.
"It sounded like you're having car trouble and thought maybe I could help. I've worked on cars before." she replied, willing her heartbeat to slow as she spoke.
The chauffeur raised an eyebrow as he regarded the stranger. Her accent was definitely foreign and she was dressed like she was part of a motorcycle gang. Security was tight here, which made him wonder why she had not been stopped at the gate. He made a mental reminder to himself to speak with the boss about the security guards lying down on the job.
"And you are.?" the driver asked; "This is private property and if you don't belong here, I'm afraid I must ask you to leave immediately."
"Oh, I'm sorry" Constance replied. She reached into her pocket for the identification card that had been sent to her in the mail. It displayed her name, her position and a rather unflattering (she thought so anyway) photo of herself. Upon seeing the card, the driver relaxed some.
"It sounds like the car is vapor-locking", she said as she put the card back into her pocket. "Get me a couple of clamps and open the hood up so I can take a look". The driver was reluctant to allow a near stranger to fiddle around under the hood, but he was also reluctant to have the car be late to pick up the person who it was supposed to carry. Sensing the driver's unease, Constance smiled and remarked to the driver "you can watch if you want". A minute later the driver had his head under the hood as he watched the woman place the clamps at the beginning and end of the fuel line. The driver retreated from under the hood and froze in utter horror as the car's intended occupant stood before him with an angry look upon her face. Constance was still under the hood, making sure that the clamps were secure.
Just as Constance was preparing to retreat from the engine, she was startled again by the sound of a woman's voice demanding to know why her car was late and what the bloody hell this stranger was doing near her car. Constance jumped, hitting her head on the still open hood. She clamped a hand over the back of her head as if to contain the stars that were now (metaphorically speaking) coming from it and backed away from the car.
When she retained some of her vision, Constance looked at the person that was chewing out the chauffeur for his tardiness and violation of security protocols. The woman was a little taller than she was, with long platinum hair and icy blue eyes. She was wearing a green suit that was tailored to her, but still managed to look like a man's suit. Her tie was clasped with a large gold cross that reflected the sunlight directly into Constance's eyes. Standing behind her was an older man who was surely a butler. Having finished with the driver, the blond turned her attention toward the intruder that stood before her rubbing her head.
"She was helping me with the car-" the driver began, but he was interrupted by the woman who demanded that the stranger reveal who she was and what she was doing there. For the third time that day, Constance pulled out her identification and showed it.
Sir Integra Wingates Hellsing snatched the identification from Constance's hand and inspected it. She looked at the photo and compared it to the woman standing before her with a look of pain on her face. Constance was not as tall as Integra was, but tall enough that Integra could look her straight in the eyes. She was slender and had hair that in the dim light was difficult to determine whether it was brown or black. It was plied in a braid that reached to just between her shoulder blades. As Integra inspected the stranger, she noticed that she had eyes as green as a cat's. She was currently clad in an outfit that consisted of black leather pants, leather boots, a white shirt with buttons down the front and a leather jacket.
"I see, you are the resident trauma surgeon we hired", Integra commented as she handed the card back. Her face remained stern, but had lost some of the suspicion and anger that it had held before.
"Constance Williams" the stranger replied as she held out her right hand in greeting.
"Sir Integra Hellsing", the other woman remarked as she shook Constance's hand. Integra nodded toward the butler; "This is Walter Dorne, retainer of the Hellsing household." "I realize that I was supposed to meet you today at this time, but unfortunately some urgent business has called me away. Walter will show you to the house and to your room. I will meet with you later tonight.". As Integra stepped into the car, which to the driver's amusement had started right up after Constance's trick, she added "and I suggest you leave the mechanical work to the mechanics. With that, the car sped from the garage, leaving Constance and the butler alone.
Warning: Some of the characters are a little out of character (ducks to avoid flames ()
Ch 1: The New Arrival
The air felt like a wet heavy blanket over the English countryside and muffled the sounds that would normally be associated with a country road like this one. The chirping of the birds and insects sounded far away and muted. The air was still and warm with barely any breeze to disturb it. The silence was abruptly shattered by the loud sound of a motorcycle roaring along the road as if trying to create its own breeze and escape the stifling blanket that hung over everything. Seconds later the machine creating the noise sped by, creating a cloud of dust that settled back to the ground almost as soon as it had been stirred. The rider had a good reason to be in a hurry as she was running later than she wished to report to her new employer. She had heard that the head of the company, if it could be called a company, was not one to trifle with. As she hurried toward her destination, she concentrated on the machine that was carrying her there. Constance had long ago learned to treat the machine as an extension of herself and had no difficulty riding under any circumstances, but she thought to herself that the cycle's engine would need adjusting to compensate for the higher humidity in this country.
Moments later, Constance reached the gatehouse of an imposing-looking mansion. She showed identification to the guard on duty and was waved through. She rode around the house to find a place where she could leave her bike. She saw a smaller building with automobiles and cycles parked around it. She also saw several vehicles that looked like they belonged in the desert with a war-weary army rather than at a place like this. The vehicles that caught her eye were HumVees and Jeeps, mostly. She rode up to the garage and slipped the bike into a space that appeared to be unused. As she dismounted and pulled the helmet off of her head, she heard the familiar sound of a car that was resisting all attempts to start it. She checked her watch, and much to her relief, was quite a bit early for her appointment. She wiped the back of her hand across her brow and took a better look at the mansion that she would be living and working in. It had a very square appearance with structures that resembled towers on each corner. It was at least three stories high, causing the new arrival to wonder how many people it would take to maintain a house like this.
Her reverie was broken by the car attempting to start again and having no luck. Since she was no longer in a hurry, she made her way to the open garage door that the sound was coming from. As her eyes adjusted to the relative darkness of the garage, she spotted the car that refused to start. It was a Bentley, somewhat aged but looking to be in perfect condition. Truly a thing of beauty. She was so caught up in staring at the gorgeous machine that she did not notice a man in a chauffeur's uniform approach her.
"Can I help you?" he asked in a gruff voice, startling her and causing her to jump.
"It sounded like you're having car trouble and thought maybe I could help. I've worked on cars before." she replied, willing her heartbeat to slow as she spoke.
The chauffeur raised an eyebrow as he regarded the stranger. Her accent was definitely foreign and she was dressed like she was part of a motorcycle gang. Security was tight here, which made him wonder why she had not been stopped at the gate. He made a mental reminder to himself to speak with the boss about the security guards lying down on the job.
"And you are.?" the driver asked; "This is private property and if you don't belong here, I'm afraid I must ask you to leave immediately."
"Oh, I'm sorry" Constance replied. She reached into her pocket for the identification card that had been sent to her in the mail. It displayed her name, her position and a rather unflattering (she thought so anyway) photo of herself. Upon seeing the card, the driver relaxed some.
"It sounds like the car is vapor-locking", she said as she put the card back into her pocket. "Get me a couple of clamps and open the hood up so I can take a look". The driver was reluctant to allow a near stranger to fiddle around under the hood, but he was also reluctant to have the car be late to pick up the person who it was supposed to carry. Sensing the driver's unease, Constance smiled and remarked to the driver "you can watch if you want". A minute later the driver had his head under the hood as he watched the woman place the clamps at the beginning and end of the fuel line. The driver retreated from under the hood and froze in utter horror as the car's intended occupant stood before him with an angry look upon her face. Constance was still under the hood, making sure that the clamps were secure.
Just as Constance was preparing to retreat from the engine, she was startled again by the sound of a woman's voice demanding to know why her car was late and what the bloody hell this stranger was doing near her car. Constance jumped, hitting her head on the still open hood. She clamped a hand over the back of her head as if to contain the stars that were now (metaphorically speaking) coming from it and backed away from the car.
When she retained some of her vision, Constance looked at the person that was chewing out the chauffeur for his tardiness and violation of security protocols. The woman was a little taller than she was, with long platinum hair and icy blue eyes. She was wearing a green suit that was tailored to her, but still managed to look like a man's suit. Her tie was clasped with a large gold cross that reflected the sunlight directly into Constance's eyes. Standing behind her was an older man who was surely a butler. Having finished with the driver, the blond turned her attention toward the intruder that stood before her rubbing her head.
"She was helping me with the car-" the driver began, but he was interrupted by the woman who demanded that the stranger reveal who she was and what she was doing there. For the third time that day, Constance pulled out her identification and showed it.
Sir Integra Wingates Hellsing snatched the identification from Constance's hand and inspected it. She looked at the photo and compared it to the woman standing before her with a look of pain on her face. Constance was not as tall as Integra was, but tall enough that Integra could look her straight in the eyes. She was slender and had hair that in the dim light was difficult to determine whether it was brown or black. It was plied in a braid that reached to just between her shoulder blades. As Integra inspected the stranger, she noticed that she had eyes as green as a cat's. She was currently clad in an outfit that consisted of black leather pants, leather boots, a white shirt with buttons down the front and a leather jacket.
"I see, you are the resident trauma surgeon we hired", Integra commented as she handed the card back. Her face remained stern, but had lost some of the suspicion and anger that it had held before.
"Constance Williams" the stranger replied as she held out her right hand in greeting.
"Sir Integra Hellsing", the other woman remarked as she shook Constance's hand. Integra nodded toward the butler; "This is Walter Dorne, retainer of the Hellsing household." "I realize that I was supposed to meet you today at this time, but unfortunately some urgent business has called me away. Walter will show you to the house and to your room. I will meet with you later tonight.". As Integra stepped into the car, which to the driver's amusement had started right up after Constance's trick, she added "and I suggest you leave the mechanical work to the mechanics. With that, the car sped from the garage, leaving Constance and the butler alone.