Something That Will Never Happen, but Did Anyway

By Sad WTF

Chapter 3. I Got Your Picture, I Got Your Picture (I'd Like a Million of You All Round My Cell)

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"Father Maxwell, you missed Mass yesterday," said an anxious Father Ronaldo, as Integral appeared at Iscariot headquarters.

"Oh," said Integral, blinking and trying to find some sort of facial expression to use that indicated that she actually cared. "Well, tell me about it, then."

Father Ronaldo frowned. "I meant that you forgot to show up. Again."

Integral was about tell the old man to mind his own business, when she heard a snicker from the corner, and found a priest, or at least a girl dressed as one, laughing at her.

"Looks like Father Maxwell found a way to avoid saying Mass again," she said, in-between her snickering.

Father Ronaldo shook his head. "No, Heinkel. Father Maxwell wouldn't ever intentionally skip Mass. Would you, Father Maxwell?"

Integral said nothing but merely stared him down. She ignored the old man's disapproving look and the girl's snorting laughter and looked around for any room that looked like Maxwell's office. She decided to search without these people watching her every move, and quickly left the front room to move into the hallway.

Glancing briefly at each door made her come to the conclusion that Maxwell's office had to be on either ends of the hallway, as both rooms seemed to possess the most elaborate doors in this area. She picked the one straight ahead of her and flung open the door to realize she had made the right choice. This room was decidedly Maxwell. Smirking, she slammed the door behind her before those meddling Catholics could find her again.

Looking around the room, she made sure it really was Maxwell's office, and confidently sat at the desk once she was positive. She grimaced to find framed pictures of Maxwell and a bunch of Catholics laden here and there. She stopped and nearly fell over when she found a picture of her in a corner.

"What the bloody hell!" screamed Integral, just as Father Ronaldo came in without knocking. "Can't you knock!?" she turned her anger onto the intruding old man.

Father Ronaldo shrank back, unaccustomed to this sort of behavior from Maxwell. He was the sort who would throw the occasional – okay, maybe not occasional, more like usual – temper tantrum, but he had never acted like this before.

"Nevermind," said Integral, calming herself a bit. "Why do I have a picture of m- I mean, that English woman here?" she demanded instead, as if Father Ronaldo had been the one to put it there.

Father Ronaldo stared. Hadn't he himself been the one to ask Father Maxwell just a few weeks before, why he had a picture of the Hellsing woman in his office?

"To throw darts on," had been the cool reply from Maxwell. And that had been the end of that. It was bewildering to find Father Maxwell asking him in turn. He wasn't entirely sure how to answer that question.

"Err..." started Father Ronaldo, hesitantly. "I thought you liked it?"

Integral blanched, disgusted. "No, I don't!"

"Well, you could always take it down. It is your desk, after all," said Father Ronaldo.

Integral shook her head. "I have better things to do," she said, tossing the picture aside. "For one, I would like you to work harder to find that Nazi swine's secret hideout. Now."

Father Ronaldo said nothing, but nodded and backed out of the office.

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Meanwhile, Maxwell was having the time of his life sorting through personal files, and learning every secret about the Hellsing organization he could find on paper. He snickered as a particularly naughty thought came to his mind. He frowned as he looked around the practically bare desk for a pencil, muttering to himself that it was about as dull as Integral's life must be. He hardly noticed when he heard a knock at the door.

"Come in," he said absentmindedly. He looked up and saw Walter walk in with a duster in his hand. "Oh, good, it's you. Do you have a pencil?"

Walter stopped short, a crease appearing on his brow. "Not on me, I'm afraid. Is there not one in your desk, sir?"

Maxwell frowned. "Yes, I suppose there is," he said, annoyed that there were so many drawers in the confounded thing. He decided to try the topmost drawer, and was faced with several boxes of cigars. His expression darkened as he looked at the phone, tempted to use it, but his eye went to Walter, who was meddling. Actually, he was just cleaning, but to Maxwell, it was meddling just the same.

Sighing, Maxwell decided to wait until the butler had gone before he used the phone. He fished a pencil out of a vapid corner of a drawer and pretended to write into the files, when in actuality, he was scribbling rude messages and doodles into every corner he could find. Walter decided to leave, disturbed by what, to him, was Integral's incessant laughing.

Maxwell spent another hour or so messing up the Hellsing files before his pencil ran out of lead. Annoyed, he started fiddling about the desk again, when the utter dullness of the piece of furniture got to him once more.

"Doesn't the woman ever put anything of interest on this desk?" Maxwell muttered to himself. He decided to rifle through Integral's things to find something to put in front of him. He scrounged each drawer this way and that and found not a single picture. Finally, in the bottom most drawers, he found an aged framed photo of some tired looking man.

"This will have to do, I guess," he shrugged, placing the picture in front of him and putting it at a nice angle. He jumped when he heard another knock at the door. He rolled his eyes at the frequent intrusions. "Come in."

Walter walked in and bowed. "Alucard has returned from his mission, sir."

"Well, tell him to go and shite. He annoys me," said Maxwell.

Walter stopped and stared. For a moment, Integral sounded very... well, he couldn't place his finger on it, but he was going to find out sooner or later. His eyes trailed down to find a picture of the late Sir Hellsing on her desk. He raised a questioning eyebrow at this, but said nothing. Maxwell caught him staring and glared and said something that made Walter's monocle fall off.

"What!?" Maxwell snapped. "I like having pictures of fluttered old men on my desk. Now get out of here!"

Walter left, highly disturbed.

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That was so funny I think I may start laughing next year. Or not. I don't know, I wasn't able to put much wit into this chapter (not that I ever do. Hahaha). I think I will stop writing when I'm half asleep.