I do not own Hellsing.

Also, a couple of definitions :

1.) Harbinger - har · bin · ger - To signal the approach of; presage.

2.) Asmodeus - As · mo · de · us - A spirit originally viewed as king of the demons in Jewish demonology and later as a mischievous sprite.

Isabella raised her weapon and let loose a few rounds at the target, which stood far ahead. She smirked as the bullets tore it apart. A perfect shot. Flawless. Her eyes now took in the darkened landscape that surrounded her. Over the course of two weeks, these grounds had become ever so familiar. It was as though she knew no other home.

Home.

Like the undead had homes. Graves, yes, but homes? She swiveled her head around slightly to gaze for a moment at the towering stone complex that was the Hellsing Institute. Is this my home now? She wondered. But the past fourteen days since her arrival had been uneventful, with no real problems from any vampires. The undead were behaving themselves. The calm before the storm; that's what it was. Isabella frowned. Hunting and killing fellow undead seemed strange to her at first, but sometimes, it made sense. Sometimes.

At the sound of footsteps, Isabella cast the gun she had been practicing with to one side.

"Evening, Walter." She called over her shoulder.

"Miss Isabella," Walter approached the vampire, a heavy, sleek black case gripped in each hand. "I completed these just a little while ago."

"Magnificent. Let's see."

Smiling broadly, Isabella watched as Walter set the cases down carefully upon the ground. He then opened one, revealing a large, dark iron-gray pistol. He eased it out of the container and offered it to Isabella.

"The 13mm, anti-midian combat pistol, Harbinger." He said. "Eight round magazine, armor-piercing, with blessed silver tips and customized casings, tempered with holy water."

Isabella took the gun into a gloved hand. She held the Harbinger aloft, marveling silently at its fine balance.

"Well, well," she purred as she turned the pistol over in her hand. "Quite impressive."

Nodding proudly, Walter reached down for the second case. "And here," After a moment, he withdrew another pistol, which was roughly the same size as the Harbinger, although almost pure black in color. "The anti-freak gun, Asmodeus. Forty-two centimeters long. It uses explosive rounds, which consist of blessed silver and mercury. Also polished with holy water. Together, the Asmodeus and Harbinger weigh about thirty-eight kilograms."

Isabella now brandished both guns. "Light as a feather," she remarked. She then allowed a grateful smile to dawn on her face. "They're perfect. Thank you, Walter."

She now looked thoughtful. With inhuman ease, she loaded both weapons and aimed the Harbinger at another target, which stood a few hundred meters away from where she stood. For a long minute, she remained riveted in this position, contemplative. Here, Walter took his leave.

"I must go now. Good night, Miss Isabella."

"Aye, Walter."

As the butler made his way across the dimly lit grounds and towards the mansion, Isabella raised her weapon again. A strange gleam appeared in her eyes. The hard gaze of cold emotionless demeanor she fought to keep slowly faded into quiet sorrow. Her arm trembled slightly, though not from the weight of the Harbinger. Far ahead, the target loomed over its domain of grass and dirt. But in Isabella's mind, the wooden object became a tall male figure. His bloodless lips were pulled into a mocking smile, his watery blue eyes teasing her. This image ignited Isabella's fury. Her eyes grew hard, and a deep, furious growl sounded from the depths of her throat. Her ageless eyes seeing only this man, she pulled the trigger again and again. The target was torn asunder under her assault, along with some of the surrounding terrain. Isabella pulled the trigger once more, only to find her gun empty. She looked over at her left hand, which held the Asmodeus. However, as she lifted the gun, she paused abruptly. Her eyes scanned her surroundings quickly. She sniffed gently at the air, trying to pinpoint the location of the presence she sensed.

"Go away." She called out.

A tall figure, clad in deep crimson clothing, appeared beside her. A wicked grimace was just visible under Alucard's wide-brimmed hat.

"So much anger for a pile of wood." He remarked. "A sad waste of bullets. Or do you see something no one else does? Someone, even?"

Isabella scowled. "He is none of your concern." She turned back to face the targets once again. "Not too long from now, I'll make sure he's nothing more than dust upon a crossroad."

"Oh ho!" Alucard snickered. "Who is this 'he' you speak of?"

The female's glower deepened. "You bloody ponce," She spat. "You're enjoying my anger?!"

"Does this 'he' have a name?"

Isabella raised the Asmodeus, and for a moment, was tempted to shoot Alucard, anything for some peace. But a thought occurred to her. No, the first shot from this gun would be saved for him. She shoved her weapons into the folds of her tunic.

"William Montefurt." She stated the name with the utmost vehemence. "Does that answer your question?"

Alucard smirked. "Who is he? A lover?"

Isabella's temper flared at Alucard's question. "No," she said coldly. "My sire."

Such an answer made Alucard's grin become ever the more devious. "Sire? Hah! The Heretic has a lord and master."

"Lord and master no more." Isabella replied curtly through clenched teeth. "His blood tasted like rancid ditchwater."

The small child trembled terribly as she huddled by her mother. Every so often, small, frightened whimpers would escape from her lips.

"M-mommy," she whispered anxiously.

"Silence, whelp." A harsh voice tore through the darkness of the chamber.

At the sound, the child ducked her head in fear, and her mother tightened her arms around the child protectively. As quietly as she could, the mother tried to soothe her charge, although her voice wavered as she murmured softly to her. The pair, along with seven others, was clustered in the sacristy of the old church. All around them, sacred vessels lay shattered upon the stone floor. Beyond those, the mangled bodies of nine priests formed a semi-circle around the group. Amidst this horror and destruction, a tall female loomed over it all. She chuckled humorously, her eyes taking in the fear of her captives. Her milk-white hands toyed with a pair of long knives, though she was careful not to touch the blades. These she had taken from a young priest whom had attempted to challenge her, armed with them. He now sat hunched over in the far corner of the chamber. On his cheek was a long, deep slash; an injury inflicted by the vampire. With a disgusted look, the undead female, Amelia, threw the priest's knives onto the ground with a loud metallic ring. Rising up from her seat, she strode calmly over to the group of crumpled bodies. With a wicked grin, she dipped her hands into the blood the corpses dripped. The seven humans in the room recoiled at the sight; knowing all too well that they most likely would not survive this ordeal. But what could they do? Any attempts to resist had been brutally put down.

Amelia, with her soaked hands, strode over to one of the walls of the sacristy. After tearing down a tapestry that hung there, she began to write upon the structure with her bloody fingers. Her red eyes gleamed mischievously as she drew a number of runes upon the rough surface, returning to a body now and then to re-dye her hands. And in the center, she smeared a large, bloody circle. Finished with this task, she turned to face her prisoners.

"For the power of my Master," She said cryptically. "And the glory of the Ring. With each of your passings, I step closer to supremacy, whilst you are banished to death."

Her eyes seeming to be made of nothing but hell fire, Amelia approached the remaining seven humans of the church. Her eyes studied each frightened face carefully. Which should she kill first? An aged male priest, one of the few remaining clerics left alive, stood up defiantly as she came nearer. He uttered a prayer in an effort to drive the demon away.

"Oh, our Father who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom co-"

Amelia's long fingers enclosed around his neck. "Kingdom come?" She said curtly. "Nay."

There was a sickening crack as Amelia's hold strengthened. A moment later, the man fell to the ground, neck broken.

"M-monster!

Amelia sighed and turned to the speaker. "Monster? Indeed."

One by one, the vampire killed another five captives, using their blood to write more atrocities and symbols upon the remaining three walls. They resisted, but their attempts were futile. At last, only one remained. The young priest, a man of about twenty-three, lay on the ground, bleeding from numerous places. Amelia towered over him, watching as he struggled to get to his feet.

"Do you know why I left you for last, human?" Amelia leaned down close to murmur in his ear. "Because you attacked me. You cut my lovely face. For that, I cut yours." She emphasized this by rubbing lovingly at the gash on his cheek, causing him to moan in agony.

"S-scum." The priest said weakly. Although his limbs were afire with pain, he began to fumble desperately in his robes, searching for something. To Amelia, it looked as though he were in his death throes.

"I don't think I shall kill you," Amelia said thoughtfully. "No, perhaps I shall turn you into a ghoul! You'll join my wonderful horde!"

At this, the priest faltered for a moment. The vampire's plan terrified him. He preferred death to becoming a servant to this demon. His cut and bruised hand reached into the pockets of his robes. Where was it? He had another knife somewhere. But just as he found it, he felt himself being lifted bodily upwards by Amelia. Her white fangs gleamed in the moonlight as she faced him.

"A ghoul you shall be!" she said gleefully. "If,that is, unless you're a virgin..."

The priest paled slightly at this. What in God's name was she talking about? Quickly, he took the knife into his right hand.

"I shall be no servant of yours." With a cry, he plunged it into Amelia's stomach. The vampire gasped as she felt the blessed steel penetrate her body. She went rigid, and dropped the man.

The young priest groaned as his body collided with the unyielding floor. Without a moment's delay, he leapt painfully to his feet and fled from the room. His feet pounded the ground like hammers as he ran. From behind him, he could hear the frenzied cries of the vampire Amelia.

"Find him!" her voice was sharp and commanding.

The injured cleric hurried down a set of stairs and across a darkened hall. Who was she talking to? His answer, however, was quick in coming. As he rounded a corner, the priest nearly stumbled into a troop of things. He fell back, stifling a cry of terror. They had once been human, most still wore the weathered remains of clothing. But their flesh, once smooth, was now blackened with decay, and crusted with blood and filth. The mottled throats issued forth drawling moans as they ambled towards him. The young man reeled back and began to flee in the opposite direction. However, his strength was beginning to fail him. His breaths came in short, ragged gasps. His limbs were practically screaming for rest. But rest was far from what he could do at this point. Half-conciously, he wished for his knives. But the demon had taken them. Finally, his energy gave out all together. Worn out from the entire affair, his legs buckled under him. The priest gasped as he thudded against the ground. He glanced back down the hall. They were closing in.

BANG.

There was a thunderous boom, and the priest heard something fall upon the ground beside him. He turned his head. It was one of his pursuers. It's rotted form lay dead still. A huge, gaping hole in its skull stared back at him. What happened?

"Get up, priest, or do you want those ghouls to take you?"

The young man lifted his head up at the new voice. At the far end of the hall, a raven-haired woman, armed with enormous pistols, stood watching his dilemma.

"Get up." She repeated, and shot down another ghoul.

"I...can't..." The man gasped. "My legs..."

"Hells." The woman turned to her side and called down the adjoining corridor. "Police Girl."

As the woman struck down three ghouls, another woman joined her. She was clothed in a manner similar to that of one who served in the military. At her side, carried with startling ease, was a behemoth of a gun. A cannon, more appropriately.

"Isabella?"

With a nod, Isabella pocketed her two guns and darted towards the fallen priest, while Seras raised her Harkonnen. Deafening explosions sounded as Seras fired at the cluster of ghouls. The priest started as Isabella grabbed him by the arms.

"Ah..."

"Get up." Isabella grunted and borne him up high. She then proceded to drag him down the length of the hall, while Seras advanced and continued her assault on the line of ghouls. Once he was taken back a safe distance, Isabella deposited him by a wall, and drew out her Harbinger.

"Stay out of the way." she said flatly.

By now, the detachment of undead had been demolished. Seras and Isabella made their way through to the sacristy. Upon entering, they found that Alucard had already gotten to the vampire, whom lay bleeding profusely at his feet. Isabella smirked thinly as she watched Amela squirm helplessly, her legs heavily damaged by Alucard's guns.

"Damn...you." Amelia managed, her voice wavering from her pain.

Seras and Isabella now took in the walls which Amelia had scrawled upon, along with the numerous corpses.

"What is all this?" Isabella demanded as she strode about the dank room.

Though wounded in countless places, Amelia threw back her head defiantly. "For the glory of the Ring." she cackled. "The winds are ours, this plain shall soon follow."

A shot rang out as Amelia suddenly lurched forward. Alucard grimaced.

"You're no more than a worthless servant carrying out another's whim. A fool with no power."

Amelia licked her cut lips. "You know nothing of power. " she muttered darkly.

"Enough," Alucard pointed the Casull at Amelia's skull. "Go to where all cowards like you go."

As Alucard pulled the trigger, Isabella smirked and left the sacristy. Now that the head vampire had been eliminated, the ghouls she had created would soon follow. The mission was complete. However, as she made her way out of the building, she stumbled upon the priest she had rescued earlier. He lay quite still. Isabella prodded his side with a booted foot, and he stirred, moaning deeply. His eyes widened when he saw Isabella standing over him.

"Please...no more of this...just slay me and be done with it..."

Rolling her eyes slightly, Isabella helped him up. "I have no intention of killing you, priest."

"My name...Zane." he said weakly as Isabella took him out into the night air.

But she didn't seem to have heard him. "That vampire in there, she's dead." she said simply. "What can you tell me about what happened here, Priest?"

Zane made as if to protest being dubbed simply "Priest", but then decided against it. He looked towards the still church as he spoke. "She appeared out of nowhere near the end of the service. She and that band of things."

"Ghouls."

"Yes, I suppose. S-She killed the Father and almost all the others at once. She then forced the remaining seven of us into the sacristy. I...I tried to stop her, but..."

Isabella's eyes settled on his many wounds, particularly on the one upon his cheek. She nodded at it. "I see. That little thing is going to leave a mark."

"She..." Tears began to appear as Zane continued. " She killed my family. My parents...my sister.."

Despite his tragic plight, Isabella's face remained stoic and devoid of emotion. Zane's shoulders shook as he cried, as though the true meaning of his family's death was just beginning to settle in. Between his sobs, Isabella threw in a few more questions.

"What was she doing? Why did she write all those symbols upon the walls?"

"I'm...not sure. She murmured incomprehensible things as she wrote though."

"Did she say anything else?"

"Something...about a Master...and a Ring."

"Anything besides that?"

"I don't think so..."

Isabella turned away from Zane as Alucard and Seras exited the church. "Find anything?"

"No."

Seras peered curously over Isabella's shoulder, at Zane. "He the only survivor?"

Isabella put away her guns. "Aye. I would like so see Sir Hellsing's expression when we report."