Chapter 3: The Arrival
A/N: Thanks to all reviewers, if you have any suggestions, comments, or criticisms, let me know.
It was 7:15 PM on Saturday night, and Seras was exhausted. She had hardly gotten any sleep the day before, what with packing and last-minute briefings. Integra had given her orders to play her cards close to the chest, since she still didn't trust the Knights. Seras would do her best, but it would be hard being on her own like that. She hoped she'd be able to make some friends among the Knights, or else this was going to be miserable.
"When will this bloody plane arrive?!" snarled Integra, who had come to make sure Seras' departure went smoothly. The flight was scheduled to leave at 7:00, but it hadn't even gotten there yet. Integra was furious. They had had a horrible time getting their various weapons through security, and Integra was in a foul mood. She angrily paced the length of the aisle, muttering and swearing under her breath.
"You know, Master, you could just go back and leave her to me," smirked Alucard, who had come along as well. He had had to get up early anyway, since his sleep patterns were tied to Seras', so he had figured he might as well see her off. He was, of course, thoroughly enjoying Integra's frustration, and was doing his best to add to it.
"Oh, brilliant," snapped Integra. "Yes, of course, that's just what I'll do, leave you here unsupervised among hundreds of unsuspecting humans. How stupid do you think I am?"
Alucard smiled evilly. "Are you sure you want me to answer that?"
Integra stopped pacing and shot Alucard a glare that could have burned through steel. "NO."
Seras was sitting in her chair, wishing she could break up this little spat, when she saw a plane coming up to the entry ramp.
"Oh, good! It's finally here."
She picked up her carry-on, and turned to Integra and Alucard.
"I guess this is it, Police Girl," said Alucard. "Try not to screw up too much over in France. And if you do go shopping, buy me some sunglasses. Now, I'm going back to bed." Alucard grinned and walked away. Integra watched him leave and shook her head, and then turned back to Seras.
"All right, Seras, I will expect weekly reports on what's going on over in France. Remember to be careful and don't give out too much information. I don't trust those French idiots as far as I can throw them. Good luck, and good bye."
Integra followed Alucard out of the terminal. Seras watched them go for a moment, and then turned and headed into the plane. As she disappeared from view, a man in a dark suit and trench coat got up from a chair 3 rows over and headed to the public phone in the terminal. He picked it up and dialed a special number.
"She's on her way. Be ready."
Pierre Consteau scanned the skies impatiently through the airport window. What was taking so long? He and John had come to the airport 45 minutes early in order to ensure that they were there before the Hellsing agent. It had been no easy matter getting John's arsenal through security, and Pierre's Katal and .50 A.E. Desert Eagle had not been fun either. It had taken nearly half an hour for the customs people to call the Knights office and ensure that the two men were cleared for weapons carry within an airport. By that time, John had been nearly to the point of breaking the security guard's neck. Needless to say, neither man was currently in a good mood. And the fact that the plane was an hour late was not helping. John was swearing under his breath and pacing.
Pierre idly looked over the crowd. There were quite a few late night fliers dozing in their chairs. They didn't look any happier to be here than Pierre was. Where the hell was that plane?
"Flight 37 has arrived in terminal 16," announced a voice from the speakers. "Passengers departing now."
Pierre sighed with relief and looked at the passengers as they came off. He had been told that the Hellsing agent was a young woman. He had also been told that she was a vampire, a revelation that gave him no small amount of unease. Was she trustworthy? That remained to be seen.
"John, scan the passengers with your thermal implant. Let's see if we can't get the drop on this Hellsing creature." John overlaid his vision with thermal imaging, and looked for a woman that gave off less heat than the other passengers.
"I got her," he said. "The blonde with the short spiky hair and pink sweatshirt."
"All right. I'll go introduce myself." Pierre walked over to Seras, while John stayed back, ready to cover him if the vampire turned violent.
Seras looked around for the Knights escort. The flight had been horrible, with enormous amounts of turbulence. She was starving, as she had not been able to drink any of her blood packs on the crowded plane. She wanted nothing more than to relax and have a drink. Setting her bag on a chair, she scanned the crowd, looking again for the Knights. She saw an extremely large man wearing a trenchcoat sitting in a chair in the next section. Seras had been told to look for a giant in a coat. As she started toward him, a hand came down on her shoulder. She spun around, startled, and reached for the 9mm pistol that she had under her shirt.
"Wait!" said the tall, wiry man before her. "I mean you no harm. You are from Hellsing, correct?"
"Yes," said Seras, slowly taking her hand off the gun. "That's right. Who are you?"
"My name is Pierre Consteau, and I represent the Knights of Charlemagne. My companion, that large fellow over there in the trenchcoat, is John Carrigan. We are here to collect you. Did you have a pleasant trip?"
"Not really," she replied picking up her bag. "The turbulence was awful crossing the Channel. And I'm starving. Do you know of someplace private where I could eat?"
Pierre's manner turned slightly cold. "You are a vampire. Exactly what do you mean by eat?" As he spoke, he reached his hand back toward the twin Katal blades concealed at the small of his back. They had been blessed, and plated with silver, and were most effective against vampires.
Seras looked at the floor, slightly crestfallen. She should have known that this would happen. She pointed to her bag. "You know, blood. Don't worry!" she said, as Pierre scowled and put his hand under his coat, "its blood that was donated through blood drives. Nobody was killed or hurt. They didn't even know that I would drink it."
"Very well," said Pierre. "I suggest you wait until we return to headquarters. This airport has too tight of security for anyplace to truly be private. Let's collect John and head back to HQ."
They walked over to where the big man was sitting. As Seras approached, he stood and extended his hand. When Seras shook it, she was amazed at the strength of his grip. This guy was stronger than she was! How was that possible?
"Nice to meet you, Miss. . .?"
"Victoria," replied Seras. "Seras Victoria. Nice to meet you too, Mister Carrigan."
"Well," said Pierre briskly. "As the introductions are finished, why don't we go collect Miss Victoria's luggage, get back to headquarters and get her settled in?"
As the three of them were walking toward the luggage rack, John leaned over to speak to Pierre.
"There's something I don't like about that group of tourists following us," he said.
Pierre looked back thoughtfully. He has learned over the past two years that John's danger sense bordered on clairvoyance. "Have you tried scanning them?"
"Not yet," said John. "Miss Victoria, can you stop a moment? There's something I want to check."
As Seras stopped, puzzled, John looked back and turned on his infrared sensor. He scanned the crowd behind them wondering what was bothering him. Then, as he looked at a small group of teenagers, he realized what it was. The people behind them were giving off almost no heat!
"Pierre," he whispered urgently, "They're vampires."
"What! How?!" Pierre turned and looked at the group of teens. Sure enough, they all had red eyes.
"Is there a problem?" asked a voice from behind them. They turned and saw a security guard standing there.
"Yes, actually," said Pierre. "That group of teenagers have been following us and making threatening gestures for the last ten minutes. Could you tell them to stop?"
"Yes, of course," replied the security guard, and then set off toward the teens, muttering about idiot young punks.
When the leader of the group, a punk with pierced everything, saw the guard talking to Pierre, he grinned and turned to his comrades. "Looks like our cover's been blown, guys. It's Showtime."
"All Right!!" said the group of punks. They turned back to the security guard, and then, as he reached them, produced a variety of automatic weapons from underneath their coats. The guard stopped dead.
"HELL YEAH!" shouted the punks, and opened fire. The guard never had a chance. He went down in a spray of blood, his gun still holstered.
When John saw the punks pull out their guns, he jumped into action. "Pierre! Get down!" he shouted, and dived forward, pulling out his Ingrams as he did so.
Pierre threw himself to the ground, drawing his Desert Eagle. He spared a glance at Seras, who was running for the baggage rack, where her luggage had just appeared. Cowardly monster, he thought, and began firing at the vampires.
John's dive had taken him straight forward into the group of vampires, knocking two of them over. The other six aimed their guns at him, but they were far to slow. John crossed his arms and fired, hitting a pair of freaks dead on in the heart. He dropped to one knee and spun around, stopping with his guns aimed right at the chins of two more. The Ingrams roared, and the vampires' heads disappeared. As the bodies hit the floor, Pierre's Desert Eagle boomed deafeningly, the huge silver slug taking off a vampire's head. John rolled to the right as a vampire fired an Uzi at him, missing completely. The vampire aimed at the still rolling John, and then pitched forward as Pierre's bullet hit him in the back of the head.
John sprang to his feet, crossing his arms and firing his last few rounds at the vampire nearest him. There were only 3 rounds left in each gun, but the flew straight and true, striking the vampire in the head and heart. It went down and collapsed into to dust.
Pierre, meanwhile, had run out of ammunition for his .50. He holstered the weapon, and drew his Katal. He rolled forward and thrust both blades into the heart of the nearest vampire before it could react. He pulled the blades out and spun around, severing the vampire's head with one quick stroke.
The two vampire hunters stopped and surveyed the area. The vampires were all dead. Several people were cowering behind chairs and ticket booths. As Pierre watched, one of them stood and pulled out a grenade launcher. He grinned, revealing long yellow teeth, and aimed at John.
"Oh no," whispered Pierre. "John! Look out!"
Suddenly there was a sound like a nuclear bomb going off. The vampire disappeared in a huge fireball, sending several people flying through the air from the concussion. John and Pierre turned to see Seras lying on the floor, holding a huge sniper rifle. They stared at her in awe as she opened the chamber and inserted a 30mm shell.
"Is that all of them?" shouted Seras. "Are they gone?"
It took Pierre several moments to recover from the shock before he could reply.
"Yes, they are all gone; and I suggest we leave as well, before the authorities detain us." Seras nodded and quickly took the huge rifle apart, stowing it in a suitcase. She grabbed the rest of her luggage and ran for the door. Pierre wiped off his blades and put them into their scabbards. John reloaded and holstered his guns, and the three of them headed out onto the runway. They raced across the runway and out into the suburbs that bordered it. Pierre radioed the chauffeur of the armored limo that they had brought along, and they waited. 3 minutes later, the limo careened around the corner and stopped before them. They threw themselves into it and slammed the door. The chauffeur floored the gas pedal and they raced off into the night.
"Well," panted Pierre, as he sank back into the car's seat. "Welcome to Paris, Miss Victoria."
You like? Let me know! No idea when next chapter will be up, it depends on how well the creative juices flow.
A/N: Thanks to all reviewers, if you have any suggestions, comments, or criticisms, let me know.
It was 7:15 PM on Saturday night, and Seras was exhausted. She had hardly gotten any sleep the day before, what with packing and last-minute briefings. Integra had given her orders to play her cards close to the chest, since she still didn't trust the Knights. Seras would do her best, but it would be hard being on her own like that. She hoped she'd be able to make some friends among the Knights, or else this was going to be miserable.
"When will this bloody plane arrive?!" snarled Integra, who had come to make sure Seras' departure went smoothly. The flight was scheduled to leave at 7:00, but it hadn't even gotten there yet. Integra was furious. They had had a horrible time getting their various weapons through security, and Integra was in a foul mood. She angrily paced the length of the aisle, muttering and swearing under her breath.
"You know, Master, you could just go back and leave her to me," smirked Alucard, who had come along as well. He had had to get up early anyway, since his sleep patterns were tied to Seras', so he had figured he might as well see her off. He was, of course, thoroughly enjoying Integra's frustration, and was doing his best to add to it.
"Oh, brilliant," snapped Integra. "Yes, of course, that's just what I'll do, leave you here unsupervised among hundreds of unsuspecting humans. How stupid do you think I am?"
Alucard smiled evilly. "Are you sure you want me to answer that?"
Integra stopped pacing and shot Alucard a glare that could have burned through steel. "NO."
Seras was sitting in her chair, wishing she could break up this little spat, when she saw a plane coming up to the entry ramp.
"Oh, good! It's finally here."
She picked up her carry-on, and turned to Integra and Alucard.
"I guess this is it, Police Girl," said Alucard. "Try not to screw up too much over in France. And if you do go shopping, buy me some sunglasses. Now, I'm going back to bed." Alucard grinned and walked away. Integra watched him leave and shook her head, and then turned back to Seras.
"All right, Seras, I will expect weekly reports on what's going on over in France. Remember to be careful and don't give out too much information. I don't trust those French idiots as far as I can throw them. Good luck, and good bye."
Integra followed Alucard out of the terminal. Seras watched them go for a moment, and then turned and headed into the plane. As she disappeared from view, a man in a dark suit and trench coat got up from a chair 3 rows over and headed to the public phone in the terminal. He picked it up and dialed a special number.
"She's on her way. Be ready."
Pierre Consteau scanned the skies impatiently through the airport window. What was taking so long? He and John had come to the airport 45 minutes early in order to ensure that they were there before the Hellsing agent. It had been no easy matter getting John's arsenal through security, and Pierre's Katal and .50 A.E. Desert Eagle had not been fun either. It had taken nearly half an hour for the customs people to call the Knights office and ensure that the two men were cleared for weapons carry within an airport. By that time, John had been nearly to the point of breaking the security guard's neck. Needless to say, neither man was currently in a good mood. And the fact that the plane was an hour late was not helping. John was swearing under his breath and pacing.
Pierre idly looked over the crowd. There were quite a few late night fliers dozing in their chairs. They didn't look any happier to be here than Pierre was. Where the hell was that plane?
"Flight 37 has arrived in terminal 16," announced a voice from the speakers. "Passengers departing now."
Pierre sighed with relief and looked at the passengers as they came off. He had been told that the Hellsing agent was a young woman. He had also been told that she was a vampire, a revelation that gave him no small amount of unease. Was she trustworthy? That remained to be seen.
"John, scan the passengers with your thermal implant. Let's see if we can't get the drop on this Hellsing creature." John overlaid his vision with thermal imaging, and looked for a woman that gave off less heat than the other passengers.
"I got her," he said. "The blonde with the short spiky hair and pink sweatshirt."
"All right. I'll go introduce myself." Pierre walked over to Seras, while John stayed back, ready to cover him if the vampire turned violent.
Seras looked around for the Knights escort. The flight had been horrible, with enormous amounts of turbulence. She was starving, as she had not been able to drink any of her blood packs on the crowded plane. She wanted nothing more than to relax and have a drink. Setting her bag on a chair, she scanned the crowd, looking again for the Knights. She saw an extremely large man wearing a trenchcoat sitting in a chair in the next section. Seras had been told to look for a giant in a coat. As she started toward him, a hand came down on her shoulder. She spun around, startled, and reached for the 9mm pistol that she had under her shirt.
"Wait!" said the tall, wiry man before her. "I mean you no harm. You are from Hellsing, correct?"
"Yes," said Seras, slowly taking her hand off the gun. "That's right. Who are you?"
"My name is Pierre Consteau, and I represent the Knights of Charlemagne. My companion, that large fellow over there in the trenchcoat, is John Carrigan. We are here to collect you. Did you have a pleasant trip?"
"Not really," she replied picking up her bag. "The turbulence was awful crossing the Channel. And I'm starving. Do you know of someplace private where I could eat?"
Pierre's manner turned slightly cold. "You are a vampire. Exactly what do you mean by eat?" As he spoke, he reached his hand back toward the twin Katal blades concealed at the small of his back. They had been blessed, and plated with silver, and were most effective against vampires.
Seras looked at the floor, slightly crestfallen. She should have known that this would happen. She pointed to her bag. "You know, blood. Don't worry!" she said, as Pierre scowled and put his hand under his coat, "its blood that was donated through blood drives. Nobody was killed or hurt. They didn't even know that I would drink it."
"Very well," said Pierre. "I suggest you wait until we return to headquarters. This airport has too tight of security for anyplace to truly be private. Let's collect John and head back to HQ."
They walked over to where the big man was sitting. As Seras approached, he stood and extended his hand. When Seras shook it, she was amazed at the strength of his grip. This guy was stronger than she was! How was that possible?
"Nice to meet you, Miss. . .?"
"Victoria," replied Seras. "Seras Victoria. Nice to meet you too, Mister Carrigan."
"Well," said Pierre briskly. "As the introductions are finished, why don't we go collect Miss Victoria's luggage, get back to headquarters and get her settled in?"
As the three of them were walking toward the luggage rack, John leaned over to speak to Pierre.
"There's something I don't like about that group of tourists following us," he said.
Pierre looked back thoughtfully. He has learned over the past two years that John's danger sense bordered on clairvoyance. "Have you tried scanning them?"
"Not yet," said John. "Miss Victoria, can you stop a moment? There's something I want to check."
As Seras stopped, puzzled, John looked back and turned on his infrared sensor. He scanned the crowd behind them wondering what was bothering him. Then, as he looked at a small group of teenagers, he realized what it was. The people behind them were giving off almost no heat!
"Pierre," he whispered urgently, "They're vampires."
"What! How?!" Pierre turned and looked at the group of teens. Sure enough, they all had red eyes.
"Is there a problem?" asked a voice from behind them. They turned and saw a security guard standing there.
"Yes, actually," said Pierre. "That group of teenagers have been following us and making threatening gestures for the last ten minutes. Could you tell them to stop?"
"Yes, of course," replied the security guard, and then set off toward the teens, muttering about idiot young punks.
When the leader of the group, a punk with pierced everything, saw the guard talking to Pierre, he grinned and turned to his comrades. "Looks like our cover's been blown, guys. It's Showtime."
"All Right!!" said the group of punks. They turned back to the security guard, and then, as he reached them, produced a variety of automatic weapons from underneath their coats. The guard stopped dead.
"HELL YEAH!" shouted the punks, and opened fire. The guard never had a chance. He went down in a spray of blood, his gun still holstered.
When John saw the punks pull out their guns, he jumped into action. "Pierre! Get down!" he shouted, and dived forward, pulling out his Ingrams as he did so.
Pierre threw himself to the ground, drawing his Desert Eagle. He spared a glance at Seras, who was running for the baggage rack, where her luggage had just appeared. Cowardly monster, he thought, and began firing at the vampires.
John's dive had taken him straight forward into the group of vampires, knocking two of them over. The other six aimed their guns at him, but they were far to slow. John crossed his arms and fired, hitting a pair of freaks dead on in the heart. He dropped to one knee and spun around, stopping with his guns aimed right at the chins of two more. The Ingrams roared, and the vampires' heads disappeared. As the bodies hit the floor, Pierre's Desert Eagle boomed deafeningly, the huge silver slug taking off a vampire's head. John rolled to the right as a vampire fired an Uzi at him, missing completely. The vampire aimed at the still rolling John, and then pitched forward as Pierre's bullet hit him in the back of the head.
John sprang to his feet, crossing his arms and firing his last few rounds at the vampire nearest him. There were only 3 rounds left in each gun, but the flew straight and true, striking the vampire in the head and heart. It went down and collapsed into to dust.
Pierre, meanwhile, had run out of ammunition for his .50. He holstered the weapon, and drew his Katal. He rolled forward and thrust both blades into the heart of the nearest vampire before it could react. He pulled the blades out and spun around, severing the vampire's head with one quick stroke.
The two vampire hunters stopped and surveyed the area. The vampires were all dead. Several people were cowering behind chairs and ticket booths. As Pierre watched, one of them stood and pulled out a grenade launcher. He grinned, revealing long yellow teeth, and aimed at John.
"Oh no," whispered Pierre. "John! Look out!"
Suddenly there was a sound like a nuclear bomb going off. The vampire disappeared in a huge fireball, sending several people flying through the air from the concussion. John and Pierre turned to see Seras lying on the floor, holding a huge sniper rifle. They stared at her in awe as she opened the chamber and inserted a 30mm shell.
"Is that all of them?" shouted Seras. "Are they gone?"
It took Pierre several moments to recover from the shock before he could reply.
"Yes, they are all gone; and I suggest we leave as well, before the authorities detain us." Seras nodded and quickly took the huge rifle apart, stowing it in a suitcase. She grabbed the rest of her luggage and ran for the door. Pierre wiped off his blades and put them into their scabbards. John reloaded and holstered his guns, and the three of them headed out onto the runway. They raced across the runway and out into the suburbs that bordered it. Pierre radioed the chauffeur of the armored limo that they had brought along, and they waited. 3 minutes later, the limo careened around the corner and stopped before them. They threw themselves into it and slammed the door. The chauffeur floored the gas pedal and they raced off into the night.
"Well," panted Pierre, as he sank back into the car's seat. "Welcome to Paris, Miss Victoria."
You like? Let me know! No idea when next chapter will be up, it depends on how well the creative juices flow.