ok, back with more. i don't own hellsing. and this is short, but the next one will be longer, don't worry...

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Walter walked through the dim alleyway with little apprehension. He felt the adrenalin rushing through his veins-this was where he was meant to be. This was what he was meant to do. The Angel of Death thrived off of danger and the rush of the hunt.

He had gotten an address through an anonymous source. 613 Grimswood Place. He was taken a back route, hoping to surprise the freak by crashing in through the back door. Hopefully he would be home. Walter had made sure to have the place monitored beforehand, but this George Blindaman guy could have snuck out...could he have? No matter. Walter had his floss ready, nothing could stop him now.

He slowly creaked the door open. And there, sitting on a couch, almost as if he had been waiting for him. An old enemy. A new foe. Back from his own undeath, wearing his trademark hat with the patch of an eye on it...

Walter's body tensed with recognition. A severe pain in his stomach...and all went black.