[4] Will
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Incarceration wouldn't be so bad if it weren't for all the boring parts.
Integra Hellsing stood on an unmarked expanse of dungeon floor, one hand gripping the end of the three-foot pointer like one of her prized swords as she idly outlined a rough map of the invasion of Wallachia in yellow chalk. Here was something her servant vampire might have appreciated. At least up until the point he'd actually started losing the war.
The tip of chalk lifted, hovering over the freshly drawn line.
Had Alucard been a vampire as far as back then? She couldn't quite remember, having lost the specific numbers of his age around the middle of his semi-millenia, with only somewhat of vague recollection of him being around for at least four-hundred or so of those years before being captured. Added to that, another hundred years at the Hellsing Institute.
What had transpired in the century of her family's experimentation and dabbling in the dark arts, wasn't exactly a topic Alucard liked to talk about in great detail. Or really, at all. Oh, she knew all the binding spells and the incantations by heart, could flawlessly perform the ceremonies and arts that shackled the No Life King to her will. What Integra didn't know, however, was why her ancestors had chosen to spend a century perfecting a monster, only to promptly seal him away.
Chalk touched the ground once more as Integra sketched out the remaining forces lining the bank of the Danube.
Fear, perhaps.
Of being unable to control him?
Distilled to his essence, Alucard was the equivalent of nitrocubane in sunglasses and an overcoat. Yes, ridiculously powerful, explosive, and of dubious temperament. But when not actually killing anything? Mostly inert. In fact, sometimes Sir Hellsing wondered if her servant vampire even functioned outside of modes 'sleep' and 'shoot'. Well, there was 'annoy', but she had a feeling that was more an affectation.
So, what then?
Alucard had once oh-so-cryptically pointed out that the Eugenics Laboratory was only two doors down from the Dark Arts Room.
Integra's mouth formed into a thin line as she moved the pointer over to the other side of the river, outlining the invading Turkish army.
Ever the assuming one. Always opinionated. He swung his version of the truth about like a truncheon. Especially on topics he knew nothing about.
A stream of fine rock powder trickled from the ceiling and dribbled off her shoulder, followed by a mechanical groan of some sort, much like large wooden gears shifting against each other overhead. Integra looked up to see a familiar arm reach down into the room, the gloved hand dropping something resembling a portable DVD player and a speaker-headset into hers.
"I gather they've already warded the tower?"
"Most of it." The rest of Alucard slowly sank upside-down into the room. "It makes me itchy."
With cat-like ease, vampire turned in midair before dropping, his boots landing square in the middle of the Sultan's army, smearing them over floor.
Ah, well. It was historically accurate.
Glancing about the area he'd stepped in, it took a few moments for Alucard to recognize exactly what was happening within the borders of his master's rough-sketched geography.
"You should have dropped by yesterday." Integra plugged the headset into the device, extended the antenna, and flipped the LCD up. "The Caledonian War was something to be seen."
"I'm sure it must have been impressive."
"There was a legend. Color, even." The pointer swooped up in an arc, its end stopping three inches in front of the vampire's throat. "Did you know they made these things in multi-colors?"
Alucard eyed the tip of chalk pointed at him like a rapier.
"...We really need to get you out of here."
She chose to ignore that, swinging the pointer back down with a flick of her wrist, and turned on the receiver, favoring the familiar image and voice that popped up with a warm smile. "Walter. Wonderful to see you again."
"Likewise, Sir Integra."
"Update me on what's happening."
"Miss Seras has been placed on inactive status." A thin smile. "For some reason, I don't think Sir Wyndham-Pryce trusts her either."
"And you?"
The Hellsing family retainer ostentatiously adjusted his monocle. "Everybody enjoys tea, sir."
"What is Pryce doing about the FREAKs?"
"As of now, absolutely nothing. And speaking of which, there have been reports of possible activity in several close-in areas, one supposedly at Her Majesty's Theatre."
"Bastards are getting bold if they're coming in as far as the Haymarket."
"Unfortunately, yes. But while we are presently unequipped to actively engage any potential hostiles, we do have ample resources to engage in a bit of, shall we say, surveillance?"
A smirk slowly crept across Integra's face. "Thus the reason behind this setup."
Four buttons labeled CAM1 through CAM4 lined the palm area of the device. Clicking through the remaining inputs, Integra discovered her own profile on the third channel. Turning, she saw Alucard, who had on a headset similar to hers, only with the addition of a side-mounted CMOS camera. The video image dipped as he inclined his head.
I shall return anon. And like mercury, he slipped up through the ceiling and out.
Hmm. "By the way, Walter. How exactly did you come upon this information?"
A polite cough. "Officer Victoria felt strongly that our ventilation ducts were in need of cleaning and took it personally upon herself to inspect each one thoroughly."
"Good girl. I imagine the one above my office was quite dirty."
"Extremely so."
"Can I also assume--" Integra paused and her gaze tilted up to the spot the vampire had disappeared through. "Anon?" Since when did Alucard anon?
"Beg pardon?"
"Nothing." Back to issues at hand. "Above the main conference room. I gather that vent was also in dire need of maintenance?"
"Appalling. She spent a great deal of time there."
"The police girl's grown up quite well, hasn't she?"
Her fingers, she realized, were itching, and Sir Hellsing really wanted a cigar right now. Walking back to her dining area, she placed the receiver and pointer on the table, spotting a pair of neatly folded white gloves that hadn't been there before.
There was a click and a momentary hiss as a third voice came on line. "Sergeant Victoria reporting in. Destination and uplink successful."
With cigar firmly in mouth, Integra pulled her new gloves on and clicked on the second input. Seras' camera panned left and right as she gingerly stepped through the backstage area of the theatre. It paused on a mock-up of what appeared to be a giant decorative elephant.
"Isn't this where the Phantom of the Opera's playing?" queried the vampiress.
"Now and forever," came the dry reply.
"I believe that's CATS, Walter." Integra.
"Oh? Is there a difference?"
"I love the Phantom of the Opera!" Seras squealed, sotto voce. Integra pulled the headphone slightly away from her ear. "It's so romantic!"
"Overwrought melodrama with ham-handed fools spontaneously breaking out into song for no discernable reason," a fourth voice buzzed in. "But I suppose children like silly bedtime stories."
"I can see how a show starring a homicidal maniac obsessed with the ingénue wouldn't interest you in the least bit, Alucard," came the waspish reply. Sir Hellsing's bullets might not have wielded the same firepower as her servant vampire's, but few could dispute their precision.
Walter made a throat-clearing noise. "Yes. Well. Moving on. Miss Seras, you are now entering the theatre's main stage. May I caution you to watch where you step, as you may encounter a number of--"
A yelp, a thud, and static.
"...trap doors."
Seconds later, amidst a few groans, the camera blipped back on.
More groans. These were deeper and more pained.
"Are you all right, Miss Seras?" Walter inquired.
"That wasn't me." Seras concentrated, forcing her vampire 'third' eye to adapt to the near pitch of the below set area. The starlight scope feature of the camera, however, was more than adequate to display the surroundings to those on the viewing end, especially once everything came into focus.
"Pull out!"
"Ghouls!" The vampiress' shouts came at the same time as her commander's, as preternatural vision revealed a swarm of the undead surrounding her. She reflexively reached back for her Harkonnen...
...which wasn't there. In fact, she had nothing more dangerous on her person than a blood bag and a pen. Oh, hell. It wasn't even a real pen; it was one of those useless magic markers. Taking hold of the packet, she tore the plastic open with her teeth and sprayed her dinner over the nearest group, before bolting.
"I need cover for Seras!" Integra barked into the audio link.
"Already there." And a bass chuckle.
Now that was never a good sign.
Fingers snapped on the button displaying Alucard's video feed. The view greeting Integra was a spectacular shot overlooking the dress circle as Seras pulled herself up through the open trap, leaped off the stage and tore madly up the center aisle. The swarm of ghouls followed, scrambling up every available stage orifice, including the musicians' pit.
A twang sounded, much too close, and a large steel cable snapped by and fell out of view. A second twang, and the picture lurched, swinging erratically to and fro.
Oh, no. No. He wasn't...
The third one went, and the to-and-fro pendulum cam bordered on sickening carnival ride.
Oh, yes he was.
Finally, the last strand of cable broke, and all Integra heard was Alucard's laughter as the giant chandelier plummeted down into the mass of undead below.
Hellsing's former leader pinched the bridge of her nose under where the pads of her glasses pressed against her skin and rubbed furiously for several seconds before sighing and switching the input source again.
Seras, who'd made decent footwork on the strategic retreat, shot forward double-time as three-quarter tons of steel and glass crashed into the floor behind, spraying beads past her. Turning into the lobby, she paused, hand on the lever. Her eyes widened and she made a quick right, charging down that hallway instead.
As the first mass of following ghouls not crushed by the smashingly effective stage prop reached that same set of doors, several explosive twenty-millimeter rounds blew through the doors and any hapless undead in the vicinity.
"We have guests." Alucard hovered over the proscenium arch, watching with curious detachment as black-clad commando crews burst in below and made short, bloody work of the ghouls.
"Not MI-6."
"No, they seem too well-prepared."
"What are they carrying?" Integra adjusted the LCD of her receiver attempting to gain a clearer view of the large, boxy rifles carried by the kevlar-armored unit.
"Short-barreled assault rifle...integrated twenty-millimeter High Explosive Air Bursting sub...target acquisition/fire control system..." Walter's fingers could be heard tapping on the table as he murmured to himself. "I believe these may be XM-29 Objective Individual Combat Weapons, sir."
"Aren't these still in prototype?"
"Officially, yes."
Sir Hellsing watched an HEAB round explode over the orchestra pit, annihilating the hiding ghouls below. "I want one."
"Finley, you and the rest of Alpha take the left perimeter. Edson, Bravo company downstairs," squawked out from a walkie-talkie below.
"Americans," Walter intoned.
"Blackwater Ops?" Integra switched back to Seras.
"Can't tell, sir," puffed the vampiress, as she flew up the rear stairwell. "They've got no insignias, no patches or any other identifiers."
"Do you have a sticky pod on you?"
"Two."
"I'll need a closer look at these men."
"Right."
Turning, Seras suction-cupped a fourth camera to the wall of the stairwell, broke off a piece of railing, and chucked it down the stairs with enough force to alert several soldiers below.
Hauling full speed back up, she turned on the top floor spinning around the corner and leapt, pulling herself up onto the catwalk above. Skidding to a halt, she came face-to-face with the business end of an XM-29. The last thing Seras saw was a large high-explosive round heading straight towards her.
"Seras!" Integra shouted.
CAM2 went supernova, and then dead.
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