I do not own Hellsing and all that.

(But if you're interested in seeing artwork of Isabella, email me.)

Isabella swore violently under her breath as she ambled down the hall. She felt horribly disoriented, and very angry. An awakening in a dank pit was bad enough, but her unsettling trip from the Vatican to England, followed by another revival down in some unknown basement (Covered with injuries and bandages no less.), and some child asking for her tale was more than enough to overwhelm her. At the moment, however, she didn't care about the present. She knew her mind was a mess; that was obvious. And the reason why was just as elusive as clarity. But that was why she would need to sort them out. She started off from a point she could recall, and urged her memories onward, like someone pressing the fast-forward button while watching a movie.

A vampire sitting between two mangled bodies, crimson liquid dripping off her fangs. A sudden racket from the north. A tall man appears, he is clothed in a clerical outfit. At his side, sheathed in their scabbards, was a pair of broadswords. A bloody encounter upon the ridge.

At this point, Isabella paused. A gruesome, pained smile crossed her face. She remembered losing the battle against the man, Father Wrexmar. She also recalled swearing revenge against Wrexmar as she laid wounded upon the ground, bound and broken.

"Ye should have slain me while ye had the chance. Someday, I shall dance upon your grave."

The cleric took the defeated vampire to some church. There were priests and nuns everywhere, and they all crossed themselves and quickly muttered earnest prayers when Wrexmar brought the vampire onto the hallowed grounds.


"So," One priest remarked. "Here be the Heretic."


"Aye," Wrexmar said gruffly, throwing the bound creature onto the stone floor. "I found this damn hellion outside Leeds. The heathen had slain the Father of the church, along with another."


A passing nun heard the tale, and her placid features contorted with rage. She pointed an accusing finger at Isabella. "Dust thou art!" she declared. "And unto dust thou shalt return!"


Isabella's cut lips moved slightly, forming words that were inaudible to those near. Wrexmar picked her up roughly.


"High time..." he murmured. "High time we dealt with this vampire..."



Here, Isabella's memories failed her. After that, she only found muddled recollections, and short scenes. A deep, thudding pain also began to assault her temples, which did little to improve her mood.

Dust thou art, and unto dust thou shalt return.

A sigh escaped from her lips. She straightened and cast a disdainful gaze at the halls. Where to now? The sound of approaching footsteps made Isabella swivel abruptly around. An elderly man was making his way down the way, a small packet of papers in hand. He stopped when he caught sight of Isabella.

"Ah," he said, a tone of slight surprise marking his voice. "So you've awakened."

Isabella shrugged and rubbed at her temple. "Aye. You're...Walter?" Yes, she believed that was his name, someone had called him that earlier.

Walter nodded and calmly strode past her. "Walter Dornez, Hellsing family butler."

"Butler, eh?" Isabella followed after Walter. "Who is the head of the Hellsing family now?"

"Sir Integral." Walter answered, and stopped at a pair of doors. He opened them deftly and stepped through. "Integral Wingates Hellsing."

The mentioned figure was seated at her desk as Walter and Isabella entered her office. She nodded slightly at their appearance, barely acknowledging their presence. Walter approached her desk and offered her the collection of documents he held.

"Sir Integra," he said. "The updated reports from the occurrences in Exeter and Canterbury."

"Thank you." Integra said, taking the papers from Walter, whom bowed slightly and left the room soon after.

Now alone with Integra, Isabella cast a thoughtful gaze at the blond-haired woman before her. The former did the same. The two surveyed each other intently, their gazes piercing into the others. Integra scowled as Isabella's crazed, feral eyes bore into her own. A crazed smirk settled on the vampire's features, and she looked away.

"Integral Wingates Hellsing." She spoke the name, enunciating each syllable perfectly. "Quite a mouthful."

Integra's brow furrowed ever so slightly. She recognized the undisciplined, chaotic nature of this vampire quite clearly, and resolved to remain in control of their meeting. When she spoke, her voice was serious, to the point.

"Exactly who are you? And why was such an emblem branded on your body?"

Isabella's smirk dropped into a calculating frown. "Normally," she replied. "I would refuse to part with the answer. However," Here she pulled down the neckline of her dress slightly, so that the decagram was fully visible an ebony design upon snow-white flesh. "Bound I am to your family, to your blood. Ask of me what ye will, and I will serve."

"Isabella, correct?"

"Aye."

"Why, were you imprisoned down in that pit?"

Isabella pulled her lips into a devious sneer. "For unspeakable crimes against the Catholic Church, for the murder of numerous priests and nuns, and for defiling the name of his Holiness, the Pope."

Integra's eyes narrowed, as though she were trying to decide whether not she spoke the truth or not. "The Vatican captured you?"

"Their emissaries, specifically."

"Why didn't they just slay you and be done with it?"

The vampire snorted. "They feared this brand upon my chest. Some believed I couldn't be destroyed, which is far from the truth. Incarceration was the next best choice. And so they bound me, thinking that perhaps a few centuries without blood would kill me."

Integra leaned forward in her seat. "Tell me about that tattoo."

"T'was placed upon me by one of your family. A symbol of my servitude and allegiance to the Hellsing line."

"You allied yourself with my family?"

Isabella chuckled. "Hardly. I was captured, examined and experimented upon; they wanted to find out the effects of vampirism upon the human body, as well as other things."

"Hence your unstable healing abilities."

Isabella pulled at one of the many bandages that adorned her arms. "Indeed. To be honest, I am a failure; I couldn't handle some of the experiments. While in their keep, some days I couldn't be harmed by any weapon, while the rest of the days, I would be bleeding all over the grounds. By and by, I gathered my strength. I managed to escape one day. And only three days later, was captured again, this time, by the Vatican. And here I am before ye today. I am a servant. And a servant I remain until the Hellsing name dies. But tell me, Integral...what am I offered for my servitude? Riches? Nay. Perhaps a sip of the blood I am a servant of..."

Their gazes locked again. Integra stiffened with anger at Isabella's implication. She slammed a closed fist upon the desk and stood up abruptly. "How dare you." She said, her tone was laced with cold fury. "You are not the master, I am. You are in no position to command nor request anything of me, understood?"

Isabella's pale features broke into a wicked grin in the face of Integra's wrath. She had expected no less from a Hellsing. She bowed slightly.

"Then I shall serve..." She looked up at Integra with a toothy smirk. "Master."

And with that, Isabella left the office, her lithe form passing through a far wall at those it was nothing. Integra picked up a cigar from her desk and lit it. She glared at the wall. How bothersome. Yet another bloodsucking fiend in the house. But then again, it wasn't actually another, considering the Police Girl didn't drink blood.