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

Order 2

Abjuration

Some might wonder if monsters have nightmares.  Do the creatures that inhabit the visions of humans, of mortals, ever feel the abject terror that only dreams can instill?  Have they ever tasted death in the soft embrace of sleep?

            Ceras Victoria discovered the answer to that as she woke up, sweat soaked sheets clinging to her form, the white linen nearly transparent, revealing the dark blue night clothes she wore beneath.

            Her enhanced senses took in her surroundings in the first instant.  A cramped, confined space, the smell of her own perspiration clinging to her, the air feeling stale and cramped.  The darkness was as plain as day to her red eyes, but she was choking, suffocating . . .

            With a gasp, she slammed her fist through the lid of the tomb, splintering a half inch of, deep brown mahogany.  First the right fist, then the left, before she had clawed her way to the top, wrestling and throwing off the smothering sheets, drawing breath after breath of the cool basement air.

            Her right hand went to her chest, feeling just above her heart.  Though the skin was smooth, long since healed, her dream reminded her of what had happened.  Of what had scared her so.

            'A dream, only a dream.  Vicks is alive.  They're all still alive.' She mouthed to herself, silently willing her mind and body to still to relax.

            "Yes," she murmured, "all still alive.  The bullet . . . its on the table, isn't it?"

            Scrambling out of her impromptu exit, she jumped to the center table of her room, feet barely registering the ice cold floor as she grasped at the object, the remains of a .351 round.

            There wasn't much left of it, just a twisted hunk of misshapen metal, but its cold, solid feeling was enough to remind her that it was only a dream, that it had worked.  That she had taken that bullet, that she had been fast enough.  That the freek at that rural tavern hadn't managed to kill one of hers.  Trooper Vicks was still alive.  At the time she had leapt into the way of the round without thinking.  It had ripped a huge chunk out of her, the sheer size of the round making a mess of the left side of her chest,  The wound only finished regenerating just prior to the train station conflict the day before, though the fight in question had been over a week ago.

           She sighed as she placed the metal slug back down on the table, worries averted, and slowly turned back to her bed, surveying its splintered remains.

            "Damn."  She said, to no one in particular, eyes wide at the damage only two of her punches had caused.  "That's going to come out of my pay . . ."

***

            "Sgt.  Victoria, Sir!  We were told to expect you . . ." 

            The man snapped to attention as she arrived, stepping lightly out of the converted APV.  She shivered slightly, though the damp night barely registered.  It unnerved her slightly to be treated as an officer, much less to be treated as an officer by a D-11 agent. Still, she mused, he seemed to be the one in charge of this situation.  A half dozen other police officers milled about uncomfortably, obviously ill at ease. 

            "Ahh . . . at ease."  She waved her hand, staring at what had been only hours, or possibly days earlier (Information was sketchy, to say the least), a productive factory of the British economic machine.  "Where is the problem, and who is in charge?" 

            "Captain Peraski has gone to confront a number of apparently . . . ummm . . ."  The young man stammered, obviously nervous.

            "Believe dead is the word your looking for, son.  Undead in particular."  Pip grinned as he sauntered out of the transport, followed by several other Hellsing troopers.

            "Continue, officer . . ." Ceras glanced at the young man's name badge, " Jacobs.  Since your Captain is gone, I assume you are the highest ranking operative here?"
            "Sir, yes Sir!"  he replied, then wavered slightly as he continued, "Umm . . . 30 minutes ago, Sgt.  We have had no word since then.  At the time, he reported entering and engaging multiple threats.  His words didn't make much sense, he said they looked like zombies, but the communications were heavily garbled.  It seems that the broadcast towers interfere with normal channels." Jacobs answered, pointing blue fingerless glove up at the two massive interlocking steel towers that served as a transformer station for this section of the industrial district.  The electrical buzz produced by them was audible even to those without enhanced hearing and to those with it was decidedly unpleasant.  Victoria did her best to block it out.

            "I see."   Ceras nodded, trying to look sage.  It was, she reflected, no easier to do the 12th time than the first time. 

            'I wish Integra was here . . .dammit'. she thought, 'this whole days going straight to hell.  First the dream, now this . .  I hate taking lead.  I don't want to be responsible for others.'

 "Order all D-11 Troops to withdraw and form a perimeter.   Do not engage unless provoked.  This incident is within Hellsing's jurisdiction." Ceras continued.

            "SIR!  But . . . umm . . . what is going to happen now?" Jacobs asked, voice shaking slightly.

            "Now you'll talk to me if you have any more questions.  Sgt. Victoria and one of my squads are going to go and remove the threat, and see if your companions are still alive."  Pip answered before Ceras could respond, weaseling his way in between the inquisitive D-11 Agent and the Vampiress.  He didn't need things to get any more complicated than they already were.

            "Ceras, no time to waste talking to these guys, D-11 or not."  He continued.

            "Shut up, Pip.  Alpha and Delta, spread out and cover the building, engage if necessary.  Bravo, you're with me."  Ceras issued the insult and the order in one fluid motion as she checked the load on her USAS-12.  Satisfied that the shotgun was fully armed and the drum magazine was ready and able to cycle, she allowed herself moment of reflection.

            Last time she had fought with D-11, she had been a rookie, a greenhorn, and ended up dead.  This time, she was the one playing calvary.  And, judging by the small, quiet small on her face, it was a role she was entirely happy with.

            "In the Name of God, Impure Souls of the Living Dead shall be Banished unto Eternal Damnation."  She called out.

            The reply came also before she was done, a simultaneous echo of "Amen"s, followed shortly after by booted feet treading hard packed earth as the men and women of Hellsing did what they did best.

***

            "Laegar!  Right side, Left side is Kent.  Vicks, Kudsman, rear guard.  Catch them in the crossfire."

            "Gotcha, Sgt." They replied, moving into position inside what must have once been a dinning hall for the various factory workers.  It now much more resembled a butcher shop, with half eaten . . . things . . . tossed this way and that, and a huge inverted cross painted on the wall.  Even the tables, collapsible laminated plywood and tubular metal jobs, had the damn sigil painted on.

            'Like the Bonny and Clyde incident . . .' Ceras thought, as she stepped forward towards a set of double doors.  'This whole thing is just like the Bonny and Clyde incident . . .'

            The level of violence that they had seen had been nothing short of incredible.  Already, Ceras and her team had ended the second lives of over 2 dozen factory workers, one of which, judging by the clipboard he attacked her with, must have been the factory manager.  But the bodies were already bullet riddled and broken, and from the way the wounds looked and the way the blood had dried on their clothes, she would say the wounds came before they had originally died.  And everywhere, the inverted cross was present.

            Forcing the thoughts to the back of her mind Ceras closed the gap between herself and the double doors.  A single mighty kick knocked both of them off their hinges and propelled them back into the four undead D-11 agents, knocking them onto their backs.  One didn't get back up, its head crushed.

            "Fire for effect!"  Laegar yelled out, and the confines echoed with the sound of 9 and 5.56 mm death as the remaining three former troopers were cut down in a blaze of gunfire from multiple angles.

            "Damn.  Looks like the freeks got the agents."  Ceras muttered, stalking forward into the next room, her team following behind her, crossing back in forth to give overlapping fields of cover fire, should it be needed.

            "Not all of them.  Just most.  This one I was saving for a later snack."

            She followed the voice, red eyes coming to rest on an apparently nattily dressed man reclining on what must have once been an executive chair, legs propped on the hunched over form of a sniffling, bound and gagged D-11 officer.

            "I'm impressed.  You've managed to defeat my . . . associates.  The D-11 Agents didn't even get halfway through the second room. I guess this means I'll just have to get my own hands dirty . . . a pity.  I did like this suit."  His voice was calm and affected a unbearably upper class accent.  As he rose, he kicked out with a leather loafer knocking the incarcerated agent aside with a casual motion.

            "You have no idea who you're dealing with."  Trooper Vicks spoke up, voice muffled slightly by the face mask and armor.

            "Just another pathetic human folly, I'm sure."  He straightened his pristine white gloves in most insufferable motion, moving into the florescent lighting.  Close cropped black hair, with a face so white it was almost blue under the artificial suns.  A black business suit with a slate grey tie was worn neatly, clipped to the jacket with a silver pin.  The emblem on it was an inverted cross.

            "Human folly?    We aren't follies, human or otherwise."  Kudsman countered, keeping his eyes trained on the freek.

            "I hardly think it proper for me to converse with future pets on such a level.  These trifles are far beneath me. So now, why don't you all be good little doggies, and die?"

             Fluid motions followed the word, his hand darting inside his jacket and retrieving a chromed Glock 19, the smaller variant pointing directly at Bravo Teams point woman.

            Passing him in speed Ceras swung the Korean made shotgun to bear.  Recovered and donated to the Knights Protestant from the freek manufacturing plants in Hong Kong, she had at first been reluctant to use it.  It was fast becoming one of her favored toys after its marvelous performance that night.  She squeezed the trigger split seconds before the freek could do the same.

            And suddenly, there was no gloved hand, no glock.  And for that matter, no right arm, at least not below the elbow on the would be vampire.          An attitude change accompanied the physical alterations, too.

            "You FREAKING BITCH!  I'LL KILL YOU!"  the accent lost, his pristine outfit now splattered in blood, the creature curled his remaining hand into a predator's claw and leapt forward, bounding a good 15 feet in a single leap.

            Bravo team opened fire, but his movements were too quick to track.  Rounds pock marked the blooded walls, and clipped the fluorescent lighting, shattering tubes and bathing the room in dim flickers of light.

            Ceras calmly sidestepped the attack, stretching out her left arm to clothesline the freek.  He flipped onto his back, and would have slid on the cold tile floor had she not immediately slammed a booted foot down onto his chest cavity, giving her a rather satisfying crunching noise.

            Ceras swung the muzzle of her assault shotgun to bear on the freeks head.

            He struggled to push her off, clawing and scrapping at the leg that pinned him down, unable to move it despite his enhanced strength.

            "What . . . how . . .I'm stronger than any human!  They said I'd be the elite!  The most powerful!"  he looked up at her, fear in his eyes as his motions became jerky and erratic as he tried to break free.

            Fixing him with a crimson glare, Ceras offered her reply, "I'm not human, either.  But unlike you, I'm not a . . . folly." 

A blast from her USAS-12 ended any further discussion on the subject.

            The few remaining florescent bulbs continued to flicker and buzz as Victoria wiped the freeks blood from where it had splattered on her chest. 

            "Situation contained.  Mission completed."       

***

            Ceras sighed as she slowly pushed open the heavy iron door, wincing slightly as the runes engraved upon its surface shocked her, threatening to bind her to this place, just as they did her master.  That wasn't why she had sighed however.  It had been a long, long day, and despite her command performance at the engine factory, she wasn't expecting any compliments.

            'He had to have felt me freak out last night.' She thought, fearing the inevitable lecture, the inevitable pronouncement of 'not good enough'. 

            "Police woman.  Welcome." He pronounced, not stirring from his slouched position in his favored chair.  His mouth hadn't even moved.

            "M . . .Master?"  Ceras stuttered.  She had never been welcomed in before.  It wasn't until the events of Incognito that she had even been allowed in this room. 

            He continued on, his lips unmoving.  "Congratulations on your kill.  It was done well.  I especially liked how you left the stuffed shirt freek wondering what exactly was happening.  Ha, fun to watch."

            Alucard turned his head to face her, her head framed in the doorway.

           'Hmm.  Backlighting highlights her quite nicely.'  He though, brushing the unbidden mental process from his mind.

            "I want to congratulate you, policewoman.  You've been doing quite well since Integra was taken.  Flowering under pressure, hmm?"          

            Ceras stepped forward into the room, not quite sure what to make of his unusually talkative nature.

'Run with it while I can,' she thought.

"This . . ."  she smiled sheepishly, scratching the back of her head, "has been . . . good for me."

            "Oh, police girl?  How so?"  he replied, grinning toothily.

            "I think you know, master.  You must . . . you must have felt me wake up last night.  Err . . . day."

            "Well I did, but no, I think it would be good for you to enlighten me.  Think of it as a lesson in being a good little midian."  He continued to smile up at her, and kicked out a chair with a languid move of his leg.

            She sighed, and sat down in the indicated chair, and gathered her thoughts, opening one of the two blood packets she had brought down for him and herself.

"I've been forced to face the problems I've been running from since Integra has been gone.  With everyone dead, I just haven't had the luxury being able to worry about being a vampire or about losing my . . . humanity . . ." her voice trailed off, unsure.

            "And?" he prompted.

            "And I've found that it doesn't matter.  The humanity, I mean.  When I saved Trooper Vicks, I did it by taking a .351.  Were I human I'd be dead and the rest of Hellsing with me.  Ceras Victoria saved him, it doesn't matter whether it was a human that did it or a vampire; what really counts is that the action was done.  I woke up last night screaming because I thought I had died, and worse, I had let down those that trusted me, that put faith in me.  That shows what I am, not some label created by a long dead philosopher or occult fan boy."  The words tumbled out of her mouth, faster and faster.  She hadn't paused to breath, unprepared as she was.

"Quite a speech, Policewoman.  But what of it?  Does that absolve your taste for blood?"

            Ceras frowned at that, idly fiddling with tube on her now empty blood packet, refusing to meet his gaze.

            'I almost liked it better when he didn't question me, if this is what he asks . . .' she thought to herself, but continued on anyway.

  "I don't know.  I don't think it does; but I need blood to survive.  I . . . I don't like doing it but . . . I think I can do it without regret.  It's part of me, something I have to accept even if I don't like it.  It is as much a part of me as my desire to protect others ever was, and for that matter, is." She said, hand absently tracing over her left side, feeling for a wound that was no longer there. 

Her voice, Alucard noted, held less and less conviction.

            "You won't always have medical blood, you know."

            Her frown deepened further.  "I know that . . . but I'll face it when the time comes.  With everything going on, with these powers starting to show up at the most inopportune times . . . but when that does happen, I'll be ready to face it."  She paused, dropping the blood packet entirely, gathering her thoughts to her.

 "I know why I'd have to drink.  I don't do it for fun or out of whim, but I won't let myself die because of it.  I'm not going to revel in the process like some stupid freek; it is a process that I'll have to face to continue my existence.  I can't be faulted for that . . . I'm a midian, I . . . I can't be judged by the same standards as a human, can I?"

            He clasped a gloved hand onto her shoulder, and squeezed.  Ceras jumped under his grasp.  As far as she could remember he had never touched her except to pull holy blades from her body or when he had turned her.  It was . . . an interesting feeling, she decided, and one that sent tiny jolts that were not entirely unpleasant throughout her being.

            "You said yourself, Ceras.  You are Ceras Victoria, a No Life Queen; you are a nosferatu, and will become a powerful one at that if you continue to progress as you have this past month."  His grip slowly tightened.

            "But . . ." she began.

            "Judgments are passing and relative, Ceras.  To a true No Life Queen or King, what matters are one's own actions and one's own reasons; do not regret things that can neither be changed nor are necessitated by circumstance.  Our lives are far too long to do so."   As he finished he eased the pressure on her shoulder, slowly sliding off.

            "Thank you, Master." Ceras' voice was a hushed whisper, as she slowly raised her eyes to meet his.  To her surprise instead of amber lenses her gaze was met by pure crimson, the glasses cast to the tabletop.

            "You do . . . well, Ceras.  Return when you can."  He said, his eyes glinting playfully in the candlelight.

            "I wi . . ." her reply was interrupted as her com crackled to life, Pip's voice paging her to the surface with yet another freek hunt.

            "Get going, Ceras.  I look forward to hearing your report."

            She smiled slightly, before turning and walking off, shutting the cold iron door behind her with a clang, the wards on its surface glowing slightly as its presence was touched by a child of the night.

            And as her footprints faded down the hallway, Alucard smiled after her.  They noise stopped just before she would have hit the stairs up.

            The policewoman called back, "Thank you for calling me Ceras, master!"

            'She will make a great . . . she will be great, yet.' He silently pronounced.

Authors Notes::

---

Arg.  Wasn't happy with the intial release . . . this is getting to be a habit.  Re-re-re-reading it, I decided I really didn't like the fight scene.  Well, fleshed that out.  This is getting to be a bad habit.  Thanks for the continued support, and sorry for the delay in getting this out.  Till Next time, Invigilata Lux.  Oh, and thank the powers that be that FMP finally has its own category.  Methinks writing something for it would be a nice change from Hellsing's darker nature.  Hmmm . . .