"In the chest, I said!"
The explosive
discharge of a military rifle. Stuffing
burst over the simulated battlefield,
one mannequin toppling without the support
of its leg. The soldier squinted
through the debris,
trying to discern his effectiveness in disabling the fake
target.
His
instructor, Celas Victoria, seized the gun from the soldier's hands.
Positioning the
weapon on her shoulder, she aimed carelessly and fired a
shot at the fallen mannequin. The
shell entered the chest, scattering the upper torso of the dummy across the
grass. Then she
threw the gun to
her startled student.
"I told
you, the chest! We're fighting
vampires, not humans. A missing leg
is a minor
distraction to the enemies we'll be up against!"
"Y-Yes, Ma'am."
Celas sighed
deeply, irritation in the fine lines of her face. Why, she wondered, can't
these recruits seem to
understand simple procedure? She
ignored the fact that she herself
was once new and trained in the style of the
police force. Celas left her
student to maim a fresh
target, venturing toward the building that housed the
break room and bathroom facilities. A
respite from the stench of gunpowder and boom of military fire might do her a
world of good.
The Hellsing
Agency began recruiting numbers in the thousands a few weeks ago.
Precautions, Celas was sure, but the current state of the organization
was always veiled in mystery
to even those with high status.
Celas thought that perhaps the only people who knew the true
standing of
Hellsing were the Commander herself and Alucard.
But while Celas had an interest
in knowing exactly how hard up the Agency
was in its holy war, asking either of the two lacked
appeal.
Integral had been unreasonably cold to her of late, and her master...
Well, Alucard
seemed to enjoy keeping her in suspense.
Celas strode
into the break room with her head held high.
The officers occupying the
many tables glanced up to see who had entered
and watched her go to a vending machine with
wary eyes.
The soldiers killed her kind, and they held no trust for the vampires who
aided their
cause. Celas ignored them and removed the change from her pocket,
counting out the sixty-five
cents that would score her a Milky Way.
"You're pretty good with that gun," a voice remarked from behind.
Celas
recognized the melodic tenor of Michael Rowen, a soldier brought in with the
last
batch of recruits. Handsome
fellow, Celas had thought, but careless. With
his trusting,
lighthearted personality and his youthful optimism, Michael made
friends too easily. The way he
had
approached her the first day, even after the warnings of her 'condition'
issued by veteran
members of the squad, proved that.
A good trait for a man; a bad trait for a soldier.
"How silly
of me; of course you are!" He
laughed, a musical, lilting sound. Celas
found it
suspiciously naïve. "Forgive
me."
"What is
it, Michael?" prompted Celas, walking back toward the exit, away from prying
ears. Truth be told, she didn't
want the company at the moment. Especially
not when it drew such
unwanted attention.
Michael
scratched at his scalp with a forced smile.
He was the perfect picture of
apprehension. "Ano... I, uh,
was kinda wondering if you wanted to... you know... have lunch with
me...?"
The faltering statement was followed by a series of garbled gagging
noises. "That is – I
mean, uh
– If, um-"
"I'm
sorry," Celas responded curtly, "but I have to get back to work."
She crumpled the
Milky Way wrapper in her fist and threw it into a nearby
receptacle, cutting past the blushing
newbie smoothly.
Michael,
pride quite wounded, was attempting to sort out just where he went wrong.
He
turned to view the retreating figure of Celas as she advanced briskly
to the field. "Maybe some
other
time, then," he called, hoping she heard over the din of gunfire.
Celas didn't bother to acknowledge.
As she headed
to her designated post, Celas questioned her actions. Why did she
have to be so cold to him? He only asked her to sit and eat with him.
She could have handled
that, right?
Because
I'm a vampire, now, she answered herself.
I don't belong in the world of
humans anymore...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Several hours
later, Celas deposited herself on her fluffy mattress with a sigh.
The
assignment of training new officers had only recently been appended
to her list of duties.
Integral must have thought she had nothing to do but lounge
around all evening and so decided
to give her the extra task.
Celas would have rather done without the leery stares of her so-called
comrades.
One hand
snaked beneath the pillow, curling around the soft item to pull it close so
she
could bury her face in it. The
linen smelled of rosemary – a common scent in the halls
of Hellsing Manor.
Its basis in religious lore must have appealed to the lady of the manor.
Celas enjoyed the floral aroma. It
reminded her of her youth, the simple days with her parents...
She lay on
her back, facing the cherry varnish of the coffin lid above.
She played idly
with the buttons of her shirt, fastening and unfastening
as she slipped deeper into memory.
"How do I look, Mommy?" A young Celas Victoria jumped excitedly on the
stoop of the
church, grinning wide enough to show a full set of newly permanent teeth.
She spun, twirling the tips of her blue dress high enough to expose her
slip. She giggled
merrily at her
mother's frown.
"Behave
yourself, Victoria! You're in the
House of God, now." Then she
smiled,
a vibrant, radiating smile she saved for her daughter alone.
"But you look darling,"
she said with a wink.
"Darling!" Victoria repeated with glee while bouncing on her toes.
"Yes,
sweetie. Now hurry with Mommy
inside." She extended a delicate
hand.
"Daddy's waiting for
us." Victoria giggled and let her
mother escort her into the
church and down the aisle.
The
minister was an aged man, wizened and traditional. He gave his sermon
in a candlelit chapel surrounded by the
motivating scent of rosemary incense. When
asked,
he said the atmosphere made him feel the presence of God.
With his failing vision,
he could imagine that God could attend his mass,
and he would speak with passion
and never forget who he served.
Victoria
liked the minister. She called him
Father John and pretended she had
two daddies.
This would always provoke a smile from the old minister.
The Father
treated her like his own in return, often meeting her after
mass and lifting her up to
ride on his shoulder while he gathered his notes and
bible from the podium. Then he
would set her down and they would go around the room blowing out candles until
only
the incense remained lit.
Father
John knew how much she loved the incense, so he let her smother the
wicks while
he watched affectionately as she flit about the room, dancing and laughing.
Once finished, Victoria returned to his side and embraced him in a tight
hug.
When her
real father died, the church became her home away from home.
She sought peace within the sanctum of the church and Father John.
She assimilated
his beliefs, relying on the smell of rosemary to bring
her closer to God in trying times.
Her
laughter faded in those granite halls, but her mind was at ease in the dim light
of the chapel.
"Father," Celas whispered. Her hand, seeking the cross that had been ever-present
at her
collar, came away empty.
But that was
many years ago. The girl who felt
safe in Father John's arms was dead.
May
she rest in peace.
Celas,
disciple of the night, redirected her attention to the casket in which she lay.
The sheets were a fine silk; Integral treated her soldiers well for their
service, current
disposition excluded. Celas
would have preferred red, however, to drab white, but she
knew better than to be
picky. A bed such as this had been
a dream to her (sans power coffin
lid, of course).
Whether or not the sheets were her color was a petty gripe.
Besides, it's not like she had anyone to impress.
The episode
with Michael surfaced briefly. Celas
groaned. She would have to
apologize.
Even if she was a
vampire now, she still had her old personality.
The old Celas would be
appalled by the rude behavior she displayed
today. Vampire Celas was no
different. The dull
ache of remorse
settled over her heart. Tomorrow.
She would find him and apologize tomorrow.
That didn't change her mind about dinner, however.
As if cued,
Walter rapped twice at her door. After
a pause, he opened it and entered her
room, a tray laden with a bucket and
dinnerware in one hand. He set the
tray on her table before
addressing her with a smile.
"How is the Lady Victoria this evening?"
Celas sighed
dramatically and rolled to view him fully.
She propped her chin on folded
arms, saying, "She took a holiday, I'm
afraid. Super-Bitch Victoria is
present in her stead."
Walter
chuckled. "I see.
Then you may help yourself to her meal, Madam.
And please
send Lady Victoria my regards."
"Will do,
Sir." Then remembering her title,
Celas corrected, "I mean, go away! Leave
me alone to brood in peace!" The
pseudo-demanding face she wore was less than convincing,
and she knew it.
She sweatdropped, chuckling lightly.
Walter rolled his eyes with a hint of a smirk as he departed. "As you wish, Madam."
Celas waited
until the door clicked softly before she eyed her meal.
Will I be able
to eat it? Or
will I chicken out again?
Stepping out
of bed, Celas wandered to the table and plopped into a wooden chair.
The smell of blood wafted to her nostrils, pungent and strangely
alluring. A bowl and spoon
were set
neatly for her on a placemat. All she had to do was rip the tip of the blood packet
and
pour it into the bowl. So
easy,
she thought. But...
"Master?" Celas spoke to the silence, head bent shamefully.
Seconds
passed before he replied. His
throaty baritone rumbled from every corner
of the room.
"Yes?"
Uncertainty
stalled her voice. Showing weakness
in front of her master worried her.
What
if he decided she wasn't fit to be part of Hellsing? A vampire who couldn't even drink
blood...
How disgraceful.
"Why-"
she began, but her throat was constricted.
She cleared it and tried again.
"Why
can't I force myself? Wh...
What am I? I don't belong
to humans. I don't even
belong to
vampires if I can't drink blood. Master, where do I belong, then?
Can you tell me?"
Tears
threatened her eyelids, and she squeezed them tightly to stanch the flow.
Suddenly all
she wanted was for him to appear.
She wanted it so desperately.
"I'm
here," he said, and this time the voice came from behind her. Celas felt his hand
on her shoulder and shuddered as her dam
broke, tears spilling over her cheeks and into the
bowl below, glittering and
running together in her vision. A
strained sob welled in her throat,
and she spun to embrace her master, trembling
and sobbing into his black suit.
Alucard
stroked her hair absently, his eyes gazing unemotionally at the
strawberry-blonde
head at his abdomen. "I'm
sorry," he said quietly. "I've
made a mistake."
Author's Notes: I am irritated. Fanfiction.net keeps taking my story off. Argh! *Fumes* Anyways, I'd like to say thanks to those who reviewed. It showed two before it went all to hell, and I only got to read one. I think the reviewer was DarkLeech, if I recall. By the way, I'm sorry if I misremember or spell your name wrong -_-*. I'd also like to tell you that I've taken your suggestion about the Japanese words. Ordinarily, I like to keep them in there for the feel of the show, since I think a lot of us watch the subs. But when I thought about where it was taking place, even the anime doesn't seem appropriate for the language. So, after this chapter, there will be no more Japanese terminology. Yay! *Ahem* Anyway... Thanks for the suggestion, DarkLeech. And thank you to everyone else who's reviewed! Please keep the suggestions and comments coming, people! I don't want to get anyone's characters screwed up. That's such a pet peeve of mine... Bye bye!