A Day in the Strife of Enrico Maxwell
By: Ordos45
Rating: PG-13
Category: Humor
Disclaimer: I don't own Hellsing, its characters, Vatican City or its politicians and clergy. I don't own any of it; this is all just for fun.
A/N: I'm hitting writer's block on my other Hellsing fic. Hoping comedy will help break it.
6 A.M
His alarm clock went off predictably singing "Ave Maria" to wake him. Father Enrico Maxwell groaned as he rolled onto his side and slapped the off button on the machine.
He stumbled into the bathroom and used the toilet. Afterwards he washed his hands, wetted his toothbrush, and added toothpaste. He brushed back and forth and around methodically for each molar, as the Bobble Head Pope toothbrush holder nodded up and down on the sink before him. Spitting, he was satisfied at his hygiene in the mouth and took a quick shower before donning his vestments.
6:32 A.M
He finished praying over his morning meal and began to eat in his usual corner seat of the Vatican Commissary. He didn't particularly like the Pope being on the Atkins diet and cutting French toast from the menu, but what His Holiness wants, His Holiness receives.
He looked over the reports before him. There was a hostage situation in Berlin, a crackdown on missionaries in China, a Cardinal had been killed in Burundi, and gay rights activists had spray painted a crude picture of His Holiness and the Archbishop of Canterbury on a wall in Rome.
7 A.M
Gunfire reverberated through the room. He did enjoy his morning warm-up on the shooting range with the Swiss Guard. He allowed himself to be prideful and chuckle, after all he did have the best scores.
7:06 A.M
He tapped in his code for the fifth time. With a frustrated growl he hit the panic button. It was sure to send the VSO scrambling, but they deserved it for changing the lock to Iscariot's headquarters without telling him.
7:42 A.M
The head of the VSO had just left his office, having given him a lecture on security. How little that man knew, if only he had an inkling of how many times the Vatican had been attacked by preternatural threats.
12 P.M.
Noon at last, and lunch hour was upon him after four hours of nonstop paperwork. For a secret organization he had to deal with governments quite often, and with governments come red tape, and with red tape comes migraines.
He looked down at the slop on his plate. Once again he was in his corner of the Commissary, and cursing the Pope's Atkins Diet. There was no ravioli to be found...only this...protein gruel.
He sighed, glancing through his lunchtime reports. The Burundi situation had been dealt with adequately and more importantly, silently. The Berlin hostage crisis had been resolved by Germany's GSG-9 with no hostage fatalities.
12:27 P.M
He hurried across the grounds of the Vatican, on his way to a very important golf game...erm...meeting. He heard her before he saw her and quickened his pace, only to come face to face with Lydia Folio, the Vatican's Director of Children's Bible Studies.
"Father Maxwell," she said, with the look of a woman who needed a Bible Study covered.
"Ms. Folio," he said, trying to quicken his pace without breaking out into a run.
"I was wondering if perhaps you could cover one of the children's classes for me," she said, brown eyes twinkling.
"I'm afraid that's impossible," explained Enrico Maxwell quickly," I have a very import..."
"Nonsense," she interrupted," Golf games can wait. The children are the future of the Church and they must have good substitute teachers."
1:03 P.M
"My name is Father Maxwell," he said to the six assembled children.
"Hello Father Maxwell," they droned as one.
Good, he thought, they will be easy to control. Now to give them something to keep them occupied," I hear you are reading the Psalms...where did you leave off?"
"Psalm 14," said one child.
"Good," said Father Maxwell," I think we should have a competition. The first one of you to complete the Psalms will receive...," he rummaged around in the pockets of his vestment," A vial of holy water."
The children began to read.
4 P.M
Enrico struggled against the duct tape that held him. His arms were tied, and so were his feet. Those hooligans had even covered his mouth with a piece of this silver inconvenience, and then they had even robbed him of the possessions in his vestments.
He gave up. It had been an hour since the insurrection. He knew he had best wait for aid.
5 P.M
He had been liberated fifteen minutes earlier, and now he again sat alone in his corner at the Commissary. Again he cursed the Atkins Diet and prayed that Doctor Atkins soul descended into Hell. This time however, he had no reports and found his thoughts wandering to his fellow Iscariots, all of them out of town on missions.
10 P.M
The ghouls had been rather difficult tonight. Twenty against one was poor odds for a simple man of the cloth such as himself, and then add the FREAK vampire in, and it had been an un-enjoyable experience.
12 A.M
He sat in the Pope's waiting room. He had been summoned here for reasons unknown to himself. He could only hope the Pope was not behind schedule.
5 A.M
"His Holiness will see you now," said the receptionist, perky after her thirteenth cup of coffee in five hours.
"Holiness," Enrico said with a slight bow. He was glad they had dispensed with most of the formalities years back," What can I do for you this blessed morning?"
The Pope whispered, and Enrico's eyes widened," But...Holiness, there is no reason for Iscariot to enforce the Atkins Diet in the Conclave of Cardinals..."
The Pope continued to whisper, and Enrico nodded and headed for the apartment.
5:58 A.M
Enrico sighed, his muscles sore as he settled beneath the blankets of his bed at last. With a satisfied grunt he fell asleep. Two minutes later...the abomination known as an alarm clock rang. He smacked it into the wall, hearing it crunch satisfyingly and asked thin air," Give me five more minutes Popey."