The Interview
Chap. I
The Devil's Lair (sort of)
Author's Note: To humor both myself and my reviewers, I have decided to continue "The Interview". To keep with the storyline from my original essay, this story will be a self-insert (my first, so please be gentle). If you don't like self-inserts, I understand your views.
Disclaimer: I do NOT own Hellsing, or anything related to Hellsing. But I do like vampires!
The Journal of Kevin Chin September 21, 2006; 7:21 PM
I cursed as I stumbled in yet another water-filled pothole on my way to my new job because I couldn't afford a taxi or a bus ticket. I had just moved into a new apartment, admittedly my fourth since I arrived in August, something about the neighbors complaining about my working up late at night (I can't see without lights!). Anyway, the bills were racking up and I haven't been able to keep anything close to a constant job; up until a few days ago, I haven't really had much hope of getting a job. Then I received a weird letter in the mail just last Friday, saying I was granted an interview by a "Hellsing Institution". I had never really heard of the Hellsing Inst. Other than that news report a few years back on a supposed terrorist attack mounted by said Institution; suffice it to say I really didn't believe it. Anyways, here I am, writing in this journal as I walk through London showers to a dreary mansion on the middle of Old London. I can only hope that I make a good impression. Sometimes, I hate being a college intern.
7:57 PM
I am now sitting inside the headquarters of the Hellsing Inst. I was greeted by a man who looked in his mid-to-late forties; I don't know his true age. The man introduced himself as Walter Kum Donne, and escorted me to a waiting area outside Sir Hellsing's office. Seeing as I had some time on my hands, I took stock in my appearance: my shoes and pants soaked, my tie looking like a week-old Fruit Roll-Up, suit stained with gunk from the gutters, all in all I looked like shit; a real good way of making a first impression. I hear some footsteps from behind the doors t Sir Hellsing's office. I'd better close up for now.
8:32 PM
I don't think I had ever felt insecure as I had felt within the last forty- or-so minutes. Truth be told, when I had entered the office, I had expected a man to be sitting at the Big Desk; to my surprise, I find Sir Hellsing is FEMALE. I thought that she should have taken the title 'Lady', but the look on her face told me that she might castrate me or something if I so much as broached the subject; her eyes seemed to burn right through me as if I were little more than a bug. She questioned me on my background, schooling, upbringing, etc; essentially anything I'd expect to be asked by a curious employer, although she kept an icy expression on her face the entire time. Then she asked me something completely unexpected. "I have been told that you are a swordsman, are you not?" To put it bluntly, a person would have to have been deaf, dumb, and blind in order not to see the surprised expression on my face. "Well," I said, "I have taken an interest in bladed combat." To say I was sweating bullets was an understatement. Why did she want to know if I practice the sword arts or not? In a tone that brooked no argument, she told me: "What I am about to tell you will not leave this manor, am I clear?" She continued after my nod. "The Hellsing Institution hunts down the Children of the Night in the name of God and the Queen. Recently, our agents have been having a problem with an agent of our Catholic counterpart stationed in the Vatican." "You expect me to fight the VATICAN?" I blurted out, both incredulous and horrified at what it could mean for my future. "I expected you to have a question like that. The answer is no. You are to be a bodyguard for our agents, your Jewish background notwithstanding. Actually, I believe you are fortunate for being a Hebrew, considering the agents you'll be working with." I could only swallow. We talked for a few more minutes before she bade me good day and told me she would consider my position of employ. I'm going to have to say that if this is what everyone has to go through for employment, I'd rather be self-employed.
Chap. I
The Devil's Lair (sort of)
Author's Note: To humor both myself and my reviewers, I have decided to continue "The Interview". To keep with the storyline from my original essay, this story will be a self-insert (my first, so please be gentle). If you don't like self-inserts, I understand your views.
Disclaimer: I do NOT own Hellsing, or anything related to Hellsing. But I do like vampires!
The Journal of Kevin Chin September 21, 2006; 7:21 PM
I cursed as I stumbled in yet another water-filled pothole on my way to my new job because I couldn't afford a taxi or a bus ticket. I had just moved into a new apartment, admittedly my fourth since I arrived in August, something about the neighbors complaining about my working up late at night (I can't see without lights!). Anyway, the bills were racking up and I haven't been able to keep anything close to a constant job; up until a few days ago, I haven't really had much hope of getting a job. Then I received a weird letter in the mail just last Friday, saying I was granted an interview by a "Hellsing Institution". I had never really heard of the Hellsing Inst. Other than that news report a few years back on a supposed terrorist attack mounted by said Institution; suffice it to say I really didn't believe it. Anyways, here I am, writing in this journal as I walk through London showers to a dreary mansion on the middle of Old London. I can only hope that I make a good impression. Sometimes, I hate being a college intern.
7:57 PM
I am now sitting inside the headquarters of the Hellsing Inst. I was greeted by a man who looked in his mid-to-late forties; I don't know his true age. The man introduced himself as Walter Kum Donne, and escorted me to a waiting area outside Sir Hellsing's office. Seeing as I had some time on my hands, I took stock in my appearance: my shoes and pants soaked, my tie looking like a week-old Fruit Roll-Up, suit stained with gunk from the gutters, all in all I looked like shit; a real good way of making a first impression. I hear some footsteps from behind the doors t Sir Hellsing's office. I'd better close up for now.
8:32 PM
I don't think I had ever felt insecure as I had felt within the last forty- or-so minutes. Truth be told, when I had entered the office, I had expected a man to be sitting at the Big Desk; to my surprise, I find Sir Hellsing is FEMALE. I thought that she should have taken the title 'Lady', but the look on her face told me that she might castrate me or something if I so much as broached the subject; her eyes seemed to burn right through me as if I were little more than a bug. She questioned me on my background, schooling, upbringing, etc; essentially anything I'd expect to be asked by a curious employer, although she kept an icy expression on her face the entire time. Then she asked me something completely unexpected. "I have been told that you are a swordsman, are you not?" To put it bluntly, a person would have to have been deaf, dumb, and blind in order not to see the surprised expression on my face. "Well," I said, "I have taken an interest in bladed combat." To say I was sweating bullets was an understatement. Why did she want to know if I practice the sword arts or not? In a tone that brooked no argument, she told me: "What I am about to tell you will not leave this manor, am I clear?" She continued after my nod. "The Hellsing Institution hunts down the Children of the Night in the name of God and the Queen. Recently, our agents have been having a problem with an agent of our Catholic counterpart stationed in the Vatican." "You expect me to fight the VATICAN?" I blurted out, both incredulous and horrified at what it could mean for my future. "I expected you to have a question like that. The answer is no. You are to be a bodyguard for our agents, your Jewish background notwithstanding. Actually, I believe you are fortunate for being a Hebrew, considering the agents you'll be working with." I could only swallow. We talked for a few more minutes before she bade me good day and told me she would consider my position of employ. I'm going to have to say that if this is what everyone has to go through for employment, I'd rather be self-employed.