Disclaimer:  I in no way, shape, or form own or control the characters used here.  No profit was made from this creation. 

Times of Trial

A Hellsing Fanfiction

Introduction

" . . . unto eternal . . ." 

"*bkoom!*

The shotgun's heavy crack sundered the fluid; almost lackadaisical recitation of the Hellsing battle order, its initial retort followed a second later by the death scream of a ghoul, its chest collapsed by the blessed silver, heavily rifled round.  By now both the gunfire and the motto had become routine to the speaker. 

" . . . Damnation . . ."

            Swinging the now spent 12-gauge like a club another once living creature had its skull caved in, making a sickening, wet *thwip* as it collapsed, as if someone had smashed an over-ripe pumpkin.  The Hellsing Operative dropped the weapon in favor of something slightly less gooey as she finished off her pledge.

"Amen."

            Ceras Victoria pulled two MP 4's from her webbing, one of the overlarge sub-machine guns held in either hand.  She barely felt the recoil as hollow point silver shells cleared what had once been an isolated, closed off portion of the underground line. 

It must have once been a rather nice place to wait on one's daily commute, she reflected, her enchanced sight picking out old, cobweb laced brass fixtures and lichen covered cobblestone floors.  A crumbling newsstand stood to one side of the rusting tracks and the air was stale and mouldy.  It was cold and quite damp thanks to run-off from the streets above seeping through a cracked and crumbling mosaic ceiling, though those feelings barely even registered on the now sole occupant of the station.

            As the last spent round clattered to the floor, bounced off a rail, and rolled to a stop the Hellsing agent sighed disgustedly, holstering both weapons with a relaxed, if not slightly clumsy ease.  Hands free, she spun on her heel and began her ascent surface ward, speaking into the mike mounted on her shoulder.

"Bernadette, situation neutralized.  Send in Laegar and Mckenner to do a sweep."

"Sure thing.  You get the FREEK?"

"Yeah."  She replied, voice betraying her weariness.  "Didn't even try and fight, hid among his ghouls, bloody bastard.  I got him with a couple of rounds from the MP4."

"Great.  I'll see if I can round up some more silver shells for 'em, then.  And for your 12 gauge." 

"No.  It's gone.  Used it to finish one of the ghouls when I ran out of shells."

She could hear the chuckle over the bead and murmured voices as Pip Bernadette, acting field commander of the Royal Knights Hellsing struggled to maintain a sense of composure.

"Again?  But that's the third one this week, Ceras!  You need to be more gent . . ."

"Shut up, Pip.  Get me my Harkonnen or even an M60, and I'll start being nicer to my weapons.  Ceras out."

            She flicked off the headset and continued along the upward grade towards the moonlight above, allowing her shoulders to slump slightly, pulling at her webbing gear to try and work the MP4's into a comfortable position.  If it weren't for the fact that funding was short of late, she would have refused to use what she had come to regard almost as toy guns.  The 9mm shells were hard pressed to stop a normal human; only the shear rate of fire and the fact that they were silver even slowed the undead down.

            'But then,' she thought as she jumped up through the open sewer grate, ' it can't be helped.' 

            She walked past the handful of remaining Hellsing Troopers, failing to notice as they saluted.  Only those who had been away on leave at the time of her Master's battle with Incognito had survived.  As far as she knew only they, her Master, Walter, and of course Lady Integra had lived through that conflict.  In a manner of speaking, of course.  She and her master were already long dead.

            Pip looked up from where he knelt over a map of the underground rail line as she approached and sketched a rough salute to his superior.  "No more calls tonight, pretty lady.  This was the last one."

            Normally, a month before, Ceras would have decked him out for that comment.  Not only was she his superior, she was now de-facto head of the Trash Cleaning division of Hellsing, and for that matter, the rest of Hellsing, too.

            But she was just too tired.  It had been a month since Integra began her stay at the Tower of London and forbade Alucard from acting.  A month since Alucard  charged her with the continuation of Hellsing's mission.  A month since the loss of her Harkonnen. 

'And a month,' she reflected bitterly, 'since every freek and ghoul in this country decided to come out and show themselves'.

            In the back of her mind, she knew why the trash of the underworld had taken this chance to reveal itself.  The rumors amongst the various freeks were that Hellsing was out of operation and that her Master had been banished.  But at a rate of two excursions a night, she hardly had the energy to devote to such exercises of logic.  And Hellsing Hall's store of blood, the precious medical blood, was rapidly dwindling.

            Ceras sighed as she hauled herself into the back of an APC, and let herself slump against the steel bulkhead.  Rapping twice to alert the driver to her presence, she began the long, slow (and if she wasn't extremely careful, painful) process of reloading the dozen odd MP4 clips she had emptied with silver rounds. 

            With only 15 people left on staff, Ceras had been forced to play the role of everything from commander to armorer, her service and weapons training in D-11 having become an invaluable skill.  And with so few combat capable soldiers, Ceras was facing most of the dangers of the night alone.   

            The former police woman gave a sigh, before tossing a half loaded clip aside, and promising herself that she would get back to it later, just as soon as she could get a cool packet of Type A, and a nice day in a dark room. 

'Its been a bad day' she reflected, eyes shut against the jarring of the armored vehicle 'and tomorrow isn't likely to get much better.'




Author's Notes:
Well, that just about does it. If you liked it, give me a review, please. I plan on doing more, so encouragement is always welcome, as well as constructive criticism.