*Standard Disclaimer here*
A/N: Bergens are large rucksacks carried by the British army, and they weigh a ton, trust me.
Carpe Jugulum, Chapter 5
Almost a week after her introduction to Hellsing, Victoria Celes was settling in, albeit awkwardly. After a somewhat subdued meeting with Sergeant Sheppard, she settled into a daily routine that consisted mainly of medical testing and fitness/weapons training. The first such session had been a shock for her, however…
"Ok, first we'll try to establish your limits." Sheppard motioned to an enormous equipment crate sitting on the ground next to him. "Lift this." Victoria stared at him for a moment, then slowly moved her gaze to the crate, peering around it to see if the Sergeant was pointing to a smaller object behind it.
"You can't be serious." Sheppard shook his head.
"You're a vampire, you have superhuman strength. Lift the box." Still staring at the crate, Victoria moved forward, and put her hands around it. It was almost three times as wide as she was. She half-heartedly tried to lift the box. She was about to complain about the impossibility of the task, before she realised that the crate was, in fact, several feet above the ground. To her left, Sergeant Sheppard grinned humourlessly. "Ok, you can put it down now." She dropped the box with a resounding crash, which echoed throughout the training area. She winced as the echoes subsided.
"Sorry…"
"It's not a problem, we're underground, most of the walls are a few metres thick." He dismissed her apology. Walking towards the door, he called out: "Ok, now we're moving on to the firing range. You'll want to visit the adjacent changing rooms first; we've got your new uniform ready.
When Victoria entered the firing range a few minutes later, she found Sheppard waiting for her. He nodded appreciatively at her uniform. It consisted of a set of black t-shirt and black pants, with a bullet-proof vest over the t-shirt, and Kevlar pads on the arms, legs, knees and elbows. Her head was protected by a helmet, with her face covered with a mask and her eyes covered by goggles. As she approached, Sheppard commented on it.
"Standard equipment for Special Forces around the world, and especially useful for you since it exposes very little skin, so you don't have much to fear during daylight hours; though to be honest, being a half-vampire at best means that the sun wouldn't really harm you much anyway" He nodded towards a rack of firearms nearby. "Since you passed your weapon handling qualifications in the police, I'll assume that you're familiar with basic use of firearms?" Victoria nodded. "Good. In that case, we'll start you off on the H&K MP5, our standard submachine gun. In the field, our weapons use silver bullets, but the ones in the firing range generally use standard 9mm rounds. Much cheaper that way." He handed Victoria the weapon. It was well balanced, and fit well into her arms as she moved into the firing position. Sheppard watched from her left.
"Good, you've got the stance right. Alright, officer Celes, you may fire when ready." Almost as soon as he was finished speaking, Victoria started off with a three-round burst. The bullets penetrated almost exactly in the centre of the target. She stared in surprise at the holes in the man-shaped silhouette. In the police, she had been a mediocre shot at best, and had barely managed to pass the firearms course. She looked to her left. The Sergeant looked mildly surprised, but took it in his stride. "Very good. Either you were an excellent marksman before, or your vampirism has improved your aim." Blushing slightly from the compliment, Celes fired again, with similarly effective results. Sheppard stood impassively, staring at the perforated target. Now, the centre was almost completely torn out. He turned back to look at Celes. "Looks like you'll be ready for active duty in no time."
With aching slowness, a few weeks passed, with Victoria Celes a virtual prisoner within the Hellsing base, treated courteously by those she met, but denied access to certain areas, particularly anywhere near the access elevators that led to the surface. Her training was going surprisingly well, considering that Sheppard had been forced to skip most of the course due to his pupil's adeptness in most of the skills required. In addition, the blood-drinking aspect of her vampirism wasn't that huge a problem; she had managed to overcome her initial revulsion to the subject, and was starting to find the taste of transfusion blood almost appealing.
The medical aspect of her stay was also proving tolerable. The tests she was administered were nothing as gruesome or painful as she imagined, and she had Bryans to keep her company on the days he wasn't on active duty.
Then, a mere five weeks since her arrival at Hellsing, she woke up to hear a notice over the PA system, summoning her to a briefing room. A few moments later, she arrived there. The room was mostly dark, with the illumination being provided by a number of computer monitors, and a huge, central display. Sheppard was sitting near the door, and indicated an empty chair nearby. Thanking him quietly, she sat down. She could make out Bryans in the small group occupying the room's chairs, but the other few faces were unfamiliar. Celes was soon drawn from her ponderings by a man walking up to the podium in front of the main display screen. He was a distinguished-looking man with greying hair, probably in his late forties or early fifties. He wore the standard dark grey Hellsing uniform, and walked slightly stiffly, as if with a mild limp. As he reached the podium, the Hellsing troops stood to attention, saluting in almost perfect unison. Celes abruptly realized she was the only one still sitting, and stood up quickly, saluting awkwardly and looking around to see if anyone had noticed. Seeing her predicament out of the corner of his eye, Sheppard grinned. Even in the darkness of the briefing room, he could see she was blushing furiously. The officer, whose rank markings identified him as a Brigadier, nodded to the troops to sit, and began to speak. Despite his age, his voice was perfectly clear, with an obvious amount of quiet charisma that commanded immediate respect.
"Gentlemen, for decades, the Hellsing Organisation has protected the shores of Britain from the scourge of the undead. For decades, we have been successful." Behind the Brigadier, a map of the world appeared, with Britain shaded Blue, with the rest of the world shaded in varying intensities of red. "However, many other nations are not as fortunate as us. In almost every other part of the globe, vampires run rampant, though their work is almost always dismissed as the work of demented serial killers or wild animals." At this point, various gruesome post-mortem images flashed silently on the screen. None of the troops displayed any reaction, but Celes thought she might be sick.
"In the last few years, we have begun to extend our protection to other countries nearby, with a certain amount of success. However, we have never offered any aid to one of our greatest allies, the United States. In fact, out of all our allies, they should have the largest population of vampires, crying out for extermination.
Recently, extremely secret talks between the heads of our government and theirs have brought up the following conclusions: Firstly, America needs its own undead fighting force, and we have proposed to send certain specialists across the Atlantic to train special groups of soldiers to form the nucleus of this new group. Secondly, the vampire population needs to be reduced, before the murders and feedings reach epidemic levels, and the US is overrun by armies of ghouls.
You, in this room here, have been selected as some of the best agents Hellsing has. You will undertake the mission. Callahan, Donahue, and Robertson, you will be the 'specialists' I mentioned earlier. It will fall to you to begin the training of the American teams. Sheppard, Bryans and Celes, you will be travelling to the US on an extermination mission, to locate and destroy groups of vampires, and if possible to discern something of their command structure, if they have one." At this point, the excitement in the air was palpable; they were being sent on one of the most important missions ever undertaken by Hellsing, and their excitement and pride showed clearly on their faces, even in the murky darkness. Waiting patiently for the chatter to die down, the Brigadier moved from his position in front of the screen. "Gentlemen, you are dismissed." Talking quietly among themselves, the group exited the room. While the other three dispersed, Sheppard motioned Bryans and Celes to stand nearby for a moment.
"Ok, the general briefed me and Sergeant Callahan before he gave his little speech, and according to him our Time Of Departure is 0200 hours tomorrow, or perhaps I should say tonight. The idea is to get through the air trip during the night. We won't have to worry about getting through customs, because we're taking a RAF cargo transport to Mexico, ostensibly to pick up a Special Forces team." With a curious look, Victoria asked:
"Why Mexico?" Sheppard looked at her, and then smiled thinly.
"Because we'll be going through America's southern border, without anyone in the American government knowing it, apart from a few at the very top." Bryans and Victoria both did a double-take, looking at each other, then turning incredulously to their commanding officer. Amused by their reaction, he raised an eyebrow and asked: "How else did you think we were going to get all that equipment into the States? You think they'd let a group of masked commandos through Customs, ignoring the submachine guns, grenades and knives?" Simultaneously, the other two made vague noises of understanding. That made sense, mostly. Then the Sergeant began walking away. Over his shoulder, he called out. "Be ready for tonight. Get your stuff together, and prepare for an interesting flight."
A few hours later, they were bundled into a C-130 Hercules at an airfield a few miles from the base, and were given an additional last-minute briefing by Sheppard, which included the course they would take through the desert, how they would get over the American border, and where they would find shelter later. As they ran across the airstrip, a cold nocturnal breeze chilled the air and hurried them on their way.
"While only a few people know we're coming, they have lots of influence, which is why we have a CIA safe house waiting for us after we cross the border." Yelled Sheppard, struggling to make himself heard over the sound the aircraft's engines were making. "All we have to endure is a small hike through the night, and a quick days rest in the south of Arizona. That's where we'll meet up with a group of American CIA operatives, who will be briefed by their superiors a few hours before our arrival." To Celes, it seemed as if the whole operation was being planned on the run, with the need for secrecy necessitating deception on all sides. She felt a certain amount of pity for the CIA agents they were going to encounter-the world as they knew it would be redefined, and whatever futures they had planned would be thrown into disarray.
Almost before she knew it, the plane was landing in at a small runway in Mexico. The runway had been scratched roughly out of the desert, and hastily paved over. It didn't take much imagination to realise this landing strip wasn't sanctioned by the Mexican authorities. The three soldiers hurried out of the back of the transport, running into the hastily constructed airport. No-one was there, which wasn't surprising, so the three of them began the long walk towards their objective. The plan was to trudge through the desert for most of the night, then spend a day in a concealed position, observing border security and looking for weaknesses, before jumping the border at night.
For hours the three soldiers walked, through the chilly blackness of the Mexican night. Few words were exchanged, with the three preferring to keep an eye on their surroundings, either with Night Vision goggles, or in Celes' case, with her bare eyes. At first, the clarity of her vision had disturbed her, but it was proving to be extremely useful. As the three walked, each was absorbed in his or her own thoughts. Sheppard was silently running through the mission plan.
Right, when we're across the border, we head to the safe house, and the US government will provide us with transport to Chicago, which has had an inordinate amount of attacks. Once we've 'cleared' Chicago to some extent, we can proceed all the way down the East Coast…With a start, Sheppard realised he was thinking a bit too far in the future. Let's stick to the immediate problems, shall we?
A few metres behind him, Corporal Jack Bryans walked steadily, bearing the burden of his equipment silently. He was also lost in his thoughts, but still kept an eye on the surrounding terrain. Well, this certainly came out of nowhere. I never thought I'd be selected for something this important, but one thing seems strange: Why is Vicky along with us? She's never been on a mission before, never killed anyone before. She has no operational experience whatsoever. Bryans shrugged mentally. Maybe command simply wants to see how she does in the field, and how effective she'll be against the bloodsuckers. At this point, he noticed that he never thought of Victoria Celes as a vampire, merely as a human affected by an unfortunate disease. Perhaps it was because she never acted like any vampire he'd ever seen. Instead of revelling in the drinking of blood, she swallowed it down hurriedly, and never made mention of her condition, unless absolutely necessary. In fact, she was always self-conscious when it came to her fangs and eyes. Bryans found himself smiling under his mask; he had been impressed by Celes' strength of character ever since that first week, when she had taken only a few days to come to terms with her condition, and been conscripted into the Hellsing Organisation's military wing. He was also impressed by how hard she struggled to retain her humanity, even in the face of the massive changes her life had taken. Thinking a little more on the subject, he felt better: Considering her scores in the shooting range, she shouldn't have any trouble engaging the enemy, especially with her disgust at vampirism.
Bringing up the rear of the group, Victoria Celes was, unlike the other two, not particularly deep in thought. Instead, she looked around with wide eyes, marvelling at the wide nocturnal vistas afforded to her by her night vision. In her view, the starlight seemed to illuminate the world as far as the eye could see, bathing the landscape of the desert in an eerie light grey glow. From hundreds of metres away, she could pick out the shapes of small animals hurrying about their nocturnal lives, with small rodents scurrying about, taking advantage of the cold night to evade their reptilian predators.
A few hours later, after an uninterrupted walk through the darkness, the group found shelter in small cave network near the Mexican-American border. Creeping quietly through the almost absolute darkness, the group came across several sleeping would-be illegal immigrants, their sleeping forms pathetically thin, the signs of malnourishment and disease evident. Moving stealthily, the group managed to avoid waking even a single of the sleeping vagrants, and eventually took shelter in a cave farther down than the rest, which was as yet unoccupied by the refugees. Settling down silently, the group prepared to have a long rest, sleeping through the rest of the night and the next day, in preparation for their infiltration of the American border. As she had the least need for sleep, Celes took first watch, while the other two settled down.
While slightly disgruntled at being the first on watch after the long walk, Celes was gratified by the fact that the other two trusted her enough to let her watch their backs. Her watch was uneventful, until the events of a few hours later, at approximately 0600 hours. As she stood, watching the approaching sunrise through her goggles, her supernaturally keen eyes took in movement on the desert floor below the cliffs the caves were set into. Her crimson eyes narrowed as she spotted several figures moving clumsily along the base of the cliffs, working their way upwards.
As far as they could make it out later, the incident occurred when a Mexican border patrol decided to investigate the cave network. They were spotted by a waking refugee, and the ensuing panic alerted Celes to the fact that something was wrong. Turning to alert her comrades, she found they had both awakened at the first sounds of widespread panic. They barely had time to grab their weapons before a horde of Mexican immigrants entered their cave, waving a motley assortment of flashlights, torches and sharp pieces of wood. Understandably, the group stopped dead when they saw three masked, armed soldiers standing in front of them, with weapons at the ready. There was a moment of silence, and a sudden rush in the opposite direction by a large group of refugees who had decided that being detained by the Border Police was a more attractive prospect than dying at the hands of a group of anonymous commandos.
That would have been the end of it, but one of the fugitives must have mentioned the presence of the Hellsing troops within the caves, because it was not long before a group was sent to investigate. This resulted in a near head-on collision between Sheppard, Bryans and Celes, and a group of Mexican police. Fortunately for all involved, the Mexicans backed down when confronted by massed machineguns, and ended up with their hands and feet bound together, just inside the mouth of the cave. Waiting near the cave entrance, the remaining police, all but one of whom were unarmed, ran for their lives as the Hellsing squad emerged, considerably irritated and blinking dully as they emerged into the sunlight, apart from Celes, who still wore her goggles. Facing down their one armed opponent, an older man armed with a single-shot rifle, they didn't even bother to raise their weapons. The man took one look at them, and then ran to join his comrades, leaving the three soldiers standing in the morning sunlight.
"Well, that could have gone much, much worse." Suggested Bryans hopefully, looking over to his two team-mates. Victoria nodded agreement, but Sheppard remained silent, facing North, adjusting their plan mentally. A moment later, the Sergeant spoke up.
"Alright ladies and gentlemen, we're going to have to alter our travelling arrangements somewhat. We're going over the border in a few hours, at the most." The other two looked at him dubiously.
"Are you sure that's a good idea, sir?" Bryans asked, his brow furrowing as he frowned, following the Sergeant's gaze.
"Well, it's either that or wait for the Mexican cavalry to arrive…" Sheppard took a quick bearing, and began walking towards the Border. After a moment of hesitation, the other two started off hurriedly behind him.
After a few refreshingly boring hours of walking in the scorching sunlight, the group made it across the border. They'd obviously timed it right, because they never came closer than a mile to any patrols, none of whom spotted them, despite the fact that their black camouflage stood out glaringly in the desert terrain.
As the night drew closer, they found themselves in the south of Arizona, on the southern edge of the United States. Arriving a few hours early at the rendezvous point, they settled down to wait for their contacts from the CIA. Conversation was nonexistent between the three, and no-one seemed particularly keen to start one. Idly, Sheppard tested the edge of the knife he was holding on a scorpion nearby, throwing the knife silently, bisecting the unfortunate insect. There was no sound among the three, apart from a brief shriek from Victoria when she discovered a large tarantula crawling on her shoulder.
At this point, those contacts had yet to begin their journey. They were currently talking in a motel room in Green Valley, Arizona. After a few moments of quiet conversation, the two agents rose from their positions and headed to the door. The first one to reach it was Special Agent in Charge Robert Benson, a man in his mid-thirties, with thick black hair that was already starting to grey slightly. When he referred to it, he always blamed the stress of his job, though he was generally a good-humoured man. For the mission, he was dressed in fairly casual clothing, with a light blue shirt and jeans. Behind him stood Agent Mike Kaczynski, a much younger man, who had been with the Agency for about a year and a half. He had dark brown hair, and sky-blue eyes, which he often hid behind a pair of sunglasses, an affectation that amused his older partner constantly. One thing he didn't find amusing, however, was the current mission. His assignment was to pick up a group of 'important personnel' at a certain point next to a road in the middle of a desert. He was then supposed to escort these 'personnel' to the safe house he and Kaczynski were currently occupying. This is ridiculous, he thought to himself. With next to no information, how the hell do they expect me to do my job? When he had expressed these concerns to his superiors, he had been told in no uncertain terms that no further information would be forthcoming, and he should keep his mind focused on the mission. Thus, Benson was not in a happy mood when he departed the CIA safe house that night.
The drive through the desert was also fairly uneventful, with few words being exchanged between the two agents. When they had reached the rendezvous point, Benson parked the black SUV they had arrived in, and got out of the car. Peering around as best he could, he tried to spot something, some sign that whoever they were supposed to meet was actually there. Looking around, he saw Kaczynski getting out of the car behind him, also glancing around. Turning back, he got a nasty shock, as standing less than three feet away from him was what appeared to be a mobile shadow, a shapeless black form slightly taller than he was. As his eyes adjusted, the figure resolved itself into a rather tall man wearing black fatigues, with a Kevlar jacket, helmet, mask, and goggles, rendering him completely anonymous. As Benson remained paralysed, the figure spoke.
"CIA?" Benson nodded dully. The figure turned around and waved to someone still in the darkness. A few seconds later, a pair of figures moved up, clothed identically to the first one. "Ok, our transport's here, get in the truck." The two figures ran past Benson. By this time, a rather surprised Kaczynski had noticed the soldiers, and had moved over to their position, with his service sidearm drawn. As he took notice of it, the lead commando waved him down. "You won't need that; we're on the same side. Probably." At this point, Benson had recognised the soldier's British accent.
"You guys British?" The commando motioned to the car and nodded.
"That's right. Didn't your superiors tell you about us?"
"They didn't tell me jack shit." The commando seemed satisfied by this.
"Good."
A few moments later, and a distinctly uncomfortable pair of CIA agents were sharing the car with three heavily armed soldiers, none of whom were inclined towards conversation. As Mike drove, Benson took the opportunity to study then through the rear-view mirror. In the car, two of the commandos had removed their night vision goggles, and stored them in one of the multitudes of pockets their uniforms incorporated. The third, however, kept his goggles on, and Benson noted curiously that they weren't NVGs, but simple eye protection goggles, standard issue for troops in desert environments. The third soldier also seemed to be rather small in comparison to the two others. With a small shock Benson realised that the third commando was a woman, and a rather…well endowed woman at that. Internally, Benson chided himself for his thoughts. What was wrong with woman in the Special Forces? Still, it wasn't a job he thought of as sexually inclusive. It was at that point that he noticed one of the other commandos staring back at him through the mirror, so he averted his gaze.
After an awkward drive that seemed to last far too long, the group arrived at the motel. Fortunately, the seedy building's neon sign wasn't working, so the heavily-armed soldiers went unnoticed in the darkness. Hurriedly, Benson let them into the room, and they entered, leaving their Bergens and weapons by the door. They did this without any comment, moving into the living room to occupy the chairs there afterwards. Benson grinned. Only here a few seconds, and they acted like they owned the place. He was starting to like these guys…and girl.
Following the soldiers into the living room, he leaned against a wall and took a better look at them. They were in the process of removing their headgear. The leader appeared to be the tallest of the three, with extremely short, black hair and piercing green eyes. The second man was slightly shorter, with brown hair and blue eyes. They were fairly unsurprising, but Benson had to restrain a gasp when he saw the third commando's pinkish eyes. He stared for a moment, and then mentally it explained it away. Maybe an allergy or something…Remembering himself, he cleared his throat and began speaking.
"Ah, our organisation withheld most of the details of this operation, saying that you guys would provide the info. I wasn't expecting it to be an international op, though…" He looked questioningly at the Sergeant, sitting across the room from him. Looking back, the Sergeant smiled grimly, and replied:
"Well, the operation will be taking place entirely within the mainland United States, so it isn't really international. We're just specialists your government has requested." None of this was information Benson hadn't already deduced or guessed, but he didn't let his exasperation show. Inside, he was busily speculating. Maybe they're here for the War on Drugs? The War on Terror? Deciding to probe further, he said:
"Well now, that doesn't really tell me much. Can you be more specific?" At that moment, the rather awkward conversation was interrupted as a screeching, stinking mass hurled itself at the room's window, causing it to explode inward, showering the room's inhabitants with sharp shards of glass. Benson had only the briefest glimpse of what the intruder was, but it seemed to be an amalgamation of a human and some kind of horrible biting insect. The thing righted itself almost instantly, hissing at the people in the room.
At least, until it was torn almost in half by a flurry of bullets.
Getting up slowly, Benson looked behind himself to see the three commandos rising from crouching positions by their seats, all of them with pistols at the ready. Nearby, Benson noticed a similarly shocked Kaczynski getting up slowly. The younger man took one look at the smoking corpse on the floor, leaned over to his side, and was noisily sick. Looking back at the commandos, Benson stared for a moment, and then spoke slowly.
"Ok now…what…the…fuck…was that thing?" The soldiers remained silent for a moment, then the Sergeant spoke up.
"That was a vampire, Agent Benson, and we'd prefer it if you write this off as a domestic shooting incident when the police come to see what the shots were about." That very moment, Benson heard the sirens incoming. The commandos had noticed a second or so earlier, because they were already moving their equipment to another room, and picking shell casings off the floor. Benson turned his heard as he heard a sizzling sound, which turned out to be the 'vampire's' corpse, which appeared to be melting. Gulping, Benson moved to the kitchen, to get himself a well deserved drink. A few seconds later, he was joined by Kaczynski, who was there for a similar reason. There was silence in the room for a moment as they listened to the approaching sirens, and then Benson sighed and moved to the door, mentally preparing his cover story. Don't worry gentlemen, this is a CIA operation, we have the authority here…
After the initial excitement, and a quick conversation with the police, the rest of the night passed without incident, thankfully. In the morning, Benson woke at 5, hoping to have a moment to himself, and was surprised to find the three British commandos eating breakfast at various points around the room. At least, the two men were eating. The woman was poring over a file of some sort which she had taken out of her Bergen. She flashed him a smile as he entered the room, and returned to her reading.
"Morning." The three commandos spoke in eerie unison, and that was enough to unsettle Benson quite thoroughly, considering last night's events. Gathering himself, Special Agent in Charge Benson decided to get some more information.
"Would you mind telling me just what the hell happened last night?" The Sergeant looked up briefly.
"A vampire attacked the motel room." Benson exhaled noisily, and tried again.
"Yeah, but why?" The answer came in the form of a noncommittal sentence spoken by the Sergeant as he got up and headed for the sink.
"It was attracted to a pack of donor blood we broke open outside the window when we arrived here." Benson frowned. He hadn't let them out of his sight, and he certainly hadn't seen them doing anything like that…
Then the obvious question occurred to him.
"Why'd you do that?"
"Mr. Benson, if we told you we were part of a British Agency dedicated to the extermination of Undead and Supernatural creatures, you either wouldn't have believed us, and thought we were joking, or thought we were all insane. We lured the vampire here so you would have no doubts as to our purpose." By this time, Kaczynski had moved into the room, and was listening, open-mouthed.
"But what're you doing here?"
"That, Mr. Benson, is nothing to do with you." The man's voice was still infuriatingly calm. "Suffice it to say that currently, your country has no official protection against the Undead threat." Moving smoothly from his position by the sink, Sheppard moved towards the living room, turning his gaze to the broken window and the bloodstain that had long ceased spreading across the floor. "What we need now is a means of transport. We need to get to Chicago, as soon as possible."
"Why Chicago?"
"It has the largest vampire population of any city in the US. I have no idea why."
"Uh…fine. I can get you guys a jet within a few hours."
"Perfect."
A/N: Yep, that was an abnormally long chapter, but what can I say-my muse was abnormally insistent today.