Chapter 4: Getting settled.
The Hellsing Manor was quiet at Night. Most of the operatives were sleeping, with only a select few awake. Those select few were the night watch and guard, and the resident vampires. One such vampire was currently looking at the portraits of the heads of Hellsing.
Integra looked at her father's portrait with an expression of sadness on her face.
The expression abruptly vanished when she heard the door behind her open. She whipped around, her mask back in place. She relaxed when she saw it was only Walter. He was the only person who was ever able to see Integra as she truly was. A person who still had feelings, who missed her father with all her heart, and everyday asked herself; 'am I honoring his memory?'
Integra turned back to her father's portrait, and let the mask fall. She heard Walter maneuvering his wheelchair so that he sat to her left. Silence reigned for a minute as they both studied the portrait, remembering the man it showed.
To one, he had been the best of friends, an ally, and a leader.
To the other, he had been the strict, but absolutely loving father.
"Do you think I did the right thing Walter?"
Walter turned his head to look at Integra and saw her still studying the portrait with an odd expression on her face.
"Becoming a vampire, I mean. It seems somehow ironic, and somewhat wrong, that a vampire leads the Hellsing house in its mission."
Walter returned his attention to the portrait.
"No more than having the best agent be the most powerful Vampire of all. I do know this, Miss Integra; No matter what your path, or your decisions upon it, your father would've been proud of you, and loved you. He always was. And he always will be. In heaven, he supports you in whatever you do. Remember that."
Integra nodded, and looked down at Walter. He looked at her and saw the relieved expression on her face. Then the mask fell back into place. But there was something different. This time, the mask seemed somehow softer, but in a strange way, far more powerful than before. Integra nodded, then turned and left.
Walter turned his wheelchair around and headed out of the room as well.
-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_- _-_-_-
Elsewhere in the Hellsing mansion, another woman was reflecting on her past. The time period she was reflecting on was much closer to the present, however. More specifically, the last ten minutes, as she attempted to put her twin children to bed.
Sam grinned slightly thinking of her children. They were always a handful, an occasionally aggravating and infuriating handful. Just like their father.
Sam's grin grew as she smoothed back the hair from her son's forehead carefully. He shifted slightly in his sleep, as did his twin a moment later.
Sam removed her hand, and stood. She walked away from her children's bed, and upon reaching the oak door, quietly opened it. She entered the room that the door led to and closed it just as quietly. She had learned the hard way that both of her children were VERY light sleepers, and would often wake at the slightest noise.
She turned around and fully entered her room, seeing Doug sitting on the bed in a pair of sweat pants, his back to her. He wasn't wearing a shirt, and several scars on his back were visible. Sam also knew that there were several scars on the front on his body.
Sam climbed onto the bed, a large queen size affair, and moved to behind Doug. She gently wrapped her arms around him and rested her chin on his left shoulder. She felt his well-muscled chest expand, and heard him take in a deep breath through his nose. She smiled slightly as he inhaled her scent.
Sam closed her eyes and gently touched the scar on Doug's face. The breath he had just drawn in slowly was exhaled in a slight hiss. Doug raised his right hand and caught Sam's.
Sam continued to trace the scar, Doug's hand still holding hers.
While the scar merely looked straight and small, it wasn't. If Doug had been wearing a shirt, it would've hidden how the scar suddenly became much larger. The scar actually ran from Doug's temple, curved just below his ribcage, and finally tapered off just above and to the left of his navel. By the time their hands had reached the end of the scar, Doug was shivering slightly.
Sam gripped Doug's hand hard. She knew why he was shivering. Knew that no matter what he did, no matter how many enemies he defeated, how many monsters he destroyed, that this was one he could never win against. Doug had lost one family, seen the mutilated bodies of his siblings and parents. He was always afraid that he would come home one day to discover the mutilated bodies of his wife and children.
Sam merely held him, trying to reassure him through willpower alone that she was there, and she would always be there. Especially if she had anything to say about it. Doug received the unspoken message, and grinned. Yes, Sam would most definitely have something to say to the creature that would burst in through that door with killing intention. After all, if Sam could knock him around when she wanted to, there was nothing to say she couldn't do it to other things as well.
Doug turned around to face his wife, still encircled in her arms, and kissed her. When he drew back he noticed something.
"Aren't those my clothes?"
Sam looked down at the clothes she was wearing and grinned. They were indeed Doug's, a ratty white t-shirt, and a pair of gray sweats, both worn, and thoroughly comfortable.
"Why yes, they are. Why? Do you want them back?"
Sam's grin changed slightly, as did Doug's, and Sam grabbed the bottom of the shirt, and started to pull it upward. She was stopped by Doug's hand.
"Maybe later. Until then..."
"'Until then' what?"
Doug didn't answer verbally. Instead, he suddenly attacked Sam's sides viciously, making her shriek with laughter. She collapsed back onto the bed, and tried to move away from Doug, but he pinned her in place and continued to tickle her. He stopped a minute or so later to let her catch her breath. Sam took advantage of the respite, holding her sides and gasping for breath. She looked up at Doug, wary of a recommencement of the tickling. He grinned down at her, and crooked his fingers. He started to reach for her, Sam preparing a defense, when suddenly he stopped, his ear giving a slight twitch.
Doug's grin suddenly widened, and he bent down toward her slightly. Sam could feel the muscles in his body tensing. He closed his eyes, and Sam could see his ears moving back and forth.
Doug's eyes snapped open, and he back flipped off the bed, while still in a kneeling position, and landed in a crouch just behind one of the many couches spread around the room. Sam raised an eyebrow when she heard two identical squeals of surprise and Doug stood up, holding the twins, one in each hand, by the back of their shirts. Like kittens grabbed by the scruff of the neck, the twins hung there helplessly, looking at their mother with pleading eyes for help. Sam merely grinned at the twins as Doug walked over to the bed, twins in hand.
"Now, mind telling me what you two were doing, sneaking in here?"
The twins exchanged looks before one of them answered.
"We heard mama laughing, and decided to see if we could ambush you two."
Doug looked down at his son with a mixture of pride and humor on his face.
"Ambush us, huh? Well then, in that case..."
Doug and Sam traded duplicate grins before Doug tossed their daughter to Sam and set about tickling his son. Sam caught her daughter, pinned her to the bed, and mercilessly attacked her sides. The twin's laughter echoed in the room for a minute before things escalated.
Doug's son, in an effort to get away from his father, crawled backward across the bed, Doug following, his fingers still crooked. The boy's hand came down on something soft that wasn't attached to the bed, and he grabbed it and swung it at his father. Doug reeled at the unexpected blow.
Silence reigned for a moment as Doug's son looked at his father, then at the pillow he had just used on Doug, then finally back to Doug. Suddenly the boys face split into a delighted grin, and he stood up, drew his arms back, took aim, and let his father have it.
Sam was laughing as Doug raised his arms in defense and tried to step away. But he tripped on the bed sheets, and tumbled off onto the floor, with his son in hot pursuit. Sam would've kept laughing had a pillow not hit her in the face. Sam's daughter laughed as she drew back her arms for another blow. Sam dived for a pillow, her arm at full extension. As her hand closed around one of the pillows, she felt the second blow from her daughter hit, but Sam shrugged it off, and swung the pillow she had just acquired. Her daughter stumbled back from the blow, and Sam grabbed another pillow.
"Doug!"
He looked up, dropping his guard for a second. His son jumped up and walloped him in the face and Doug stumbled back. He looked at his wife and she tossed him the pillow. Grinning his thanks, Doug went on the attack, ruthlessly beating his son down with the pillow. The boy retreated back to the bed, laughing as he got a swing in.
Sam blocked a blow from her daughter, then swung in return. The child ducked under the blow, and darted away. Sam moved to follow but a pillow hit her backside and she yelped, swinging around to see her son grinning at her. Sam drew back her arms for a blow, but her daughter followed her twin's cue, and hit Sam with her pillow, again on the backside. Sam yelped again, and swung her pillow behind her. But she saw her daughter move into her peripheral vision out of the way of the attack. Sam suddenly knew that she was about to be double teamed by her children as they drew back their arms to take advantage of her defenseless stance.
They had all completely forgotten about Doug.
Doug came in, swinging like mad. One horizontal swing brought his son down, hitting him fully with the pillow, and laying the boy out flat on the bed. Doug tensed the muscles in his arms and chest, then brought the pillow back around, swinging it into his daughters face as the girl went to attack Sam. She joined her twin spread eagle on the bed.
Sam grinned her thanks at her husband till she noticed the gleam in his eye. Sam started to bring her arms up in defense, but Doug's speed proved the deciding factor as the pillow hit her in the face with the force necessary to sprawl Sam out on the bed.
"Bwahahahahahaha! I am the pillow fight KING!!"
Doug struck what he obviously thought was a heroic pose, right leg fully extended slightly behind him, left leg crooked at the knee a bit, right hand on his hip, and left hand fully extended, pillow held high. He head was thrown back, with his golden eyes fixed on the pillow in his hand. His family looked at him for a moment before Sam spoke.
"Yes. None of us could beat you single handedly."
Doug nodded, coming out of his pose, and then froze. Something about that statement sent alarms in the back of his head ringing. He looked at Sam with a slightly worried grin to see a look of total innocence on her face. Doug was not reassured.
"So we'll have to gang up on you! GET EM'!!!"
"EEP!"
Doug froze like a deer caught in headlights, then disappeared beneath the mass of his family as they pounced on him, pummeling him with their pillows. This continued for a moment until Doug decided to end it, and reclaim his title as the Pillow King.
He watched his son draw back his arms, and tensed. At a crucial moment, Doug's arm snapped out, fingers fully extended and next to each other. There was a tearing noise as Doug's fingers tore through the pillow and down feathers flew about the room. Doug withdrew his arm and shot it out again, this time catching Sam's pillow. The pillow tore just like its brethren and feathers once again shot out to cover the room. Doug's daughter stood gaping at the mess for a moment. She snapped out of her shock when Doug calmly reached over and plucked the pillow from her hands. She blinked at her empty hands, then yelped with indignity as the pillow that was suddenly pilfered from her hands hit her back and sent her sprawling.
All three looked up and grinned sheepishly at the sight of Doug standing above them, a pillow in each hand.
Sam suddenly darted toward the bed in an attempt to gain another pillow, but Doug stopped her by throwing one of the pillows he had, and hitting her on the back. She pitched forward onto the bed, and rolled over onto her back, in reach of the pillows. Her fingers were just brushing one of the pillows when Doug landed on the bed, aimed perfectly so that all he had to do was sit down, straddling her waist, and pinning her to the bed.
Doug threw the other pillow he had to the head of the bed, and then attacked Sam's sides with his fingers once again. Sam writhed beneath him, shrieking with laughter. As her arms were free this time around, she grabbed his wrists, and attempted to shove his arms away. Doug's greater strength made this a vain effort.
"OOF!"
Doug suddenly pitched forward, the twins having jumped on his back. This unexpected attack caused Doug to collapse onto Sam, who merely grinned up at him and caught her breath.
Doug reached behind him with both of his arms and grabbed the twins. After placing them onto the bed, he rolled off of Sam and sat up, surveying everyone.
"Good warm-up, what's next?"
Sam didn't answer immediately. Instead, she sat up and pushed herself to the head of the bed, where she leaned against the headboard. She stretched her legs out before her, sighing as the muscles stretched a bit. The twins crawled over to their mother and sidled up next to her. Sam obligingly raised her arms, allowing the twins to lie against her sides. She then looked at Doug.
"No more rough-housing tonight."
Doug pouted, the twins following suit.
"But mama, we're not a bit tired."
Sam looked down at her son. Her attention then switched to her daughter as she spoke.
"He's right, not a bit ti.."
She was cut off mid sentence by a rather large yawn. It seemed that last attack against Doug had taken the last of the twin's reserves.
Doug crawled up the bed, picking up his daughter as he took the spot she had just occupied to Sam's right. Doug leaned back against the headboard and raised his left arm. Sam took the invitation, and leaned against him, snuggling close as she moved her right arm behind him to grip Doug about the waist. Sam held her son to her with her left arm, the boy already asleep. Doug's daughter, also asleep, leaned against his left side, Doug's arm around her protectively.
Sam looked around the room and winced at the mess.
"We've been here less than five hours, and we've already torn the place apart."
Doug chuckled, and kissed the top of Sam's head.
"I have trained you all well."
Sam punched him in the side for that comment, then drifted off to sleep, Doug soon following.
-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_- _-_-_-
Elsewhere in the Hellsing Manor, Seras was walking the halls, bored out of her mind. She was currently trying to decide what to do.
(Well, I could go to the gym and mock whoever's in there, I could visit Walter, I could go the firing range and mock whoever's in there...might as well go to the firing range. At least practicing with the guns does something."
Seras set off with her destination in mind. For some unknown reason, she decided to take the long way around, which passed by the gym. Seras tucked her hands into the pockets of her skirt, and started walking lazily toward the firing range, gaze slightly focused on the path before her.
After a few minutes of walking, Seras passed the gym and saw that the doors were open as usual. As she passed she glanced in and stopped dead.
The gym was usually empty at night, and at first Seras thought it was empty, since the lights were off.
But the gym had one occupant, who was apparently totally focused on mutilating one of the punching bags. Seras watched as the figure circled the punching bag, raining it with blows powerful enough to make the bag bend around the fist or foot as it impacted, then sway away violently, only to have the figure somehow move to the other side of the bag and hit it back the other way.
Seras watched the figure closely and because of this she was able to catch a glimpse of his face when he moved through a shaft of moonlight, let in by one of the high windows.
Slightly unruly blond hair framed the face of a seventeen year old with red eyes. The moonlight glinted off of the earring he had in his left ear, as well as the fangs, revealed by his slightly open mouth. A white tank top revealing well-muscled arms to great effect was tucked into a pair of baggy gray sweatpants, the cords tightened so they wouldn't fall. His hands and feet were bare.
Seras found herself staring at Matt as he moved fluidly, lashing out with his right arm and burying his fist in the punching bag with enough force to break through a brick wall. The punching bag's only saving factor was that it could disperse the force by moving away slightly. With her vampire sight, she could see the muscles moving underneath the skin, tightening and loosening to bring his arm back.
Matt stepped to the left as the bag made its return swing, and he drew his left leg up to waist height, and back, knee bent completely. Then Matt swung his leg out, impacting the bag. Matt's arms were both relaxed, his right crooked at the elbow at a ninety degree angle, his left extended behind him. His hands, Seras noted, were totally relaxed, fingers slightly crooked.
Matt withdrew his leg and raised his hand to catch the bag as it came back. His arm absorbed the swinging force of the eighty-pound bag easily.
Matt took a deep breath, then turned suddenly and looked right at Seras. Her eyes widened with surprise as she unexpected found herself looking him in the eye.
Seras found herself overcome with a sudden bout of nervousness. She found herself fidgeting and mentally cursed herself for it. It wasn't until Matt broke the eye contact by looking at the punching bag and taking it down did the nervousness passed.
If Seras had known that Matt had been feeling the same nervousness as she was, and had decided to put the bag away so he could break the eye contact, she might have been a bit heartened. But it still didn't change what she decided to do next.
Seras walked into the gym over to Matt, who had swung the bag onto his shoulder and was currently walking over to the area that the bags were kept. After reaching the other bags, he swung the bag he was carrying over his shoulder and let it drop onto the ground. He then turned back around and leaned up against the bags, crossing his legs at the ankles, waiting for her. Seras closed the distance, and for a moment, silence reigned. Finally, Seras came up with a question and started a conversation.
"Where'd you learn to fight like that?"
Matt shrugged and crossed his arms before replying.
"We've got a few martial arts instructors in Dark's Bane, and they taught me the basics of their styles."
Seras looked at him quizzically.
"Just the basics? What about the advanced moves?"
"Something didn't feel right when they started to teach me the advanced moves, and I kept making mistakes. Since Doug had the same problem, he helped me solve my own. Taught me to make my own style, taking the basics I had learned, and improvising from there. I've been working at it for the past five years."
Seras smiled slightly.
"And here I thought the training I received at the academy made me a proficient fighter."
Matt chuckled, closing his eyes slightly, and looking at the ground.
"There's a difference between a proficient fighter, and a martial artist."
"Ah yes, the 'inner power'."
Matt looked up at her, his eyebrows raised. Seras laughed lightly.
"Oh come on, you know! I've heard all martial arts styles are based on something, some form of movement, like an animal. Hence, a styles inner power that the fighter draws upon. I wonder what kind of power you use to fight."
Matt grinned at her, displaying his fangs, when he suddenly moved. Seras didn't start in surprise, but it was a narrow thing. Instead she brought up her hand in an attempt to catch Matt's fist, or at least block the punch aimed at her face. The punch never came near her face; suddenly moving down to lightly hit her just beneath the ribcage. Seras backed away a few steps and glared at Matt. He laughed in response, then spoke.
"Fire."
"Huh?"
"The inner power of my style is fire. You never know where a flame will move to next. Totally unpredictable, fire can be a gently crackling blaze one moment, a raging inferno the next, sweeping everything in its path aside with unrivaled speed and power. And it's nearly impossible to hit. Flame always seems to bend out of the way of anything that is sent its way, moving around the object, letting it pass unharmed, then turning on it and consuming it once it's passed."
Seras' mouth formed a small 'O' of understanding as she contemplated what Matt said. After a moment, she looked at Matt, who was studying her.
"Can you teach me?"
Matt's first impulse was to refuse, but something made him give the idea serious thought. After a moment of thinking, he looked at Seras, taking in her height and making a guess at her weight. Finally, after keeping Seras waiting for a minute or two, Matt spoke.
"Sure. But we can't start tonight. Or at least, not now."
At Seras' confused look, Matt elaborated.
"You've got the wrong kind of clothes on."
Seras looked down at the clothes she was wearing. A red shirt exposing her midriff, a black mini-skirt, with black leggings that ended short of her skirt, as well as black arm coverings that left the last few inches of her upper arm exposed.
"Try the wrong moves in that outfit, and you'll expose a lot more than you want."
Seras looked back up at Matt with only a slight blush. She grinned at him as she spoke.
"Strange, I thought this outfit would've made you more inclined to teach me."
Matt blinked before grinning at her. He pushed off of the punching bag he was leaning against and walked out several feet so that he had some room to maneuver.
"Well, if you want to train in that, go right ahead."
He fell into a stance and beckoned her forward. Seras' grin faded.
(Damn, he called my bluff.)
"On second thought, no. If it's alright, I'd like to start training tomorrow."
Matt's grin widened and he nodded. He came out of his stance and stood up to his full height. He then stretched his arms over his head, standing on tiptoe to stretch his legs as well. Seras suddenly realized just how tall Matt was. Seras stood at about 5'5", but Matt was a few inches over six feet, though he unconsciously slouched, which detracted quite a bit from his height. Matt fell back to his feet, and his shoulders slouched down, but Seras was still left with the impression of just how tall he was.
"Ah. Well, then I'll see you tomorrow night."
Matt nodded at her, and turned to leave.
"Oh. One last question."
Matt turned around to answer.
"Earlier when we were fighting, and I...well..."
"Used the cheap shot?"
Seras nodded, a slight blush of embarrassment.
"How did you come through that with no effect?"
Matt grinned at her discomfort, and waved his hand lazily.
"Nothin' to it. It's a type of focus that I've got. I simply ignore the pain to deal with later on. Works with everything."
Seras nodded, and the two went their separate ways for the moment.
-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_- _-_-_-
Walter was, as usual, working. The fact that it was around three in the morning, and that he was at the moment handicapped made no difference to him.
At the moment he was sitting in his wheel chair at his desk, typing away on his computer, designing specs for new weapons. The current weaponry were a request from Seras.
Walter reached over to his left and picked up the cup of strong coffee. After taking a liberal gulp of the black liquid, he placed the cup back and prepared to start typing.
Knock knock.
Walter's head snapped up in surprise to look at the door. Most people simply came and went, never bothering to knock. Walter didn't really mind, since it wasn't his room.
"Come in."
The door opened and a bald man entered, a duffel bag thrown over one shoulder. He was wearing a black long sleeved shirt, and a pair of black jeans. A pair of sunglasses covered his eyes, but Walter didn't need the sunglasses removed to know that this particular man appeared to not even have eyes.
Black entered, and looked around, studying the room. After a moment, he nodded and looked at Walter.
"I hope I'm not interrupting."
Walter shook his head to the negative and Black continued.
"I've been looking for a room suitable to set up my workplace, and while I have found a few that would do, this room is by far the best. I was hoping that I could set up my equipment in here."
"You're the weapon smith for Dark's Bane, correct?"
"Among other things."
"Well then, make yourself at home. This is my workplace where I design specialized weapons, and I'm sure we could come to a mutually advantageous arrangement."
"It would be my pleasure and honor to work with you, Angle of Death."
Walter gave no expression of surprise at Black knowing his old nickname, re-focusing on his laptop.
Black walked over to a currently unused counter and placed his bag upon it. Black opened the bag and started to pull out various objects. At first Walter didn't pay much attention, as the objects would've easily fit into the bag. A binder, a laptop much like Walter's, a plastic box filled with floppy discs, an old book, and an old-fashioned treasure chest at least twice the bag's size. Walter's head snapped around as he caught the size of the object in the corner of his eye.
Walter watched as Black easily maneuvered the chest onto the floor, sitting in front of a spot where there were no cupboards. Walter's mouth slowly fell open as Black started to draw forth more objects from the innocent looking black duffle bag.
After nearly ten minutes of Black pulling out objects of both a technological and magical variety, some objects defying the laws of physics by even being able to fit past the bag's opening, Walter felt as if his jaw would never fit properly back into place.
Black grinned upon seeing Walter's expression, and he walked over and patted Walter on the back. Walter's jaws shut with a snap, and he looked at Black out of the corner of his eye.
"How did you DO that?"
Black shrugged while his grin widened.
"Practice."
Walter felt a muscle in the back of his neck start to tick.
-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_- _-_-_-
Matt walked down the hallway of the catacombs of Hellsing Manor toward his room. His eyes were half closed and he slouched as he walked, giving an appearance of total laziness. It wasn't all that far from the truth as Matt was a rather lazy person, and he always felt rather sloth like after a training session. As the night was winding down, Matt had the idea to unpack and then sleep the day away.
Matt's expression didn't change as he suddenly felt an unfamiliar presence. He continued to walk toward his room, and as he did so, he analyzed the presence. Darkness, with a foul, insane feeling to it, but with an overlay of cleanliness. After a moment, the image of a five- pointed star with symbols forming a circle around the star appeared in Matt's mind, formed of red energy. Matt stopped walking, and looked at the wall to the left and slightly in front of him.
"Come on out 'Big Red.'"
The wall seemed to ripple, turning to dark water for a moment, and He stepped out. Matt, like every hunter worth the name, had heard stories about the man in front of him.
Much taller than Matt, wearing an old fashioned black suit with a blood red leather trench coat, he usually wore a wide brimmed blood red hat. Coupled with his red eyes, which were now visible, he had earned the nickname Big Red. His trademark insane grin in place, he stared down at Matt, and Matt felt the man's sheer presence, enough to dominate most people, whether they were Vampire or human. He was thin to the point of gauntness, but no one believed that appearance, since there were too many stories of his tearing buildings apart with his bare hands. The man's midnight black hair tapered off into a point just above the man's shoulders. The man's head tilted back, and his grin widened, his lips stretching to reveal his fangs in all their accursed glory. Before Matt stood the vampire widely accepted to be among the most powerful, if not the most powerful, in existence. The First Immortal.
Alucard.
"So you are the child of the night in Dark's Bane's employ."
Matt felt Alucard's sheer presence sweep over him, the magical force of the Dead Lord enveloping Matt. Matt felt a pressure appear against the mental shields he had constantly erected, and he knew Alucard was attempting to read Matt's mind, no matter how passively.
Alucard's expression didn't change, but Matt sensed the Dead Lord's irritation as the pressure on Matt's mental defenses increased.
Matt's expression remained unchanged, lazy and bored, as the pressure continued to increase. Finally the pressure stopped increasing but remained, and Matt smirked internally.
Suddenly the pressure vanished altogether. Alucard raised his right hand, and Matt spotted the white glove, the back decorated with a five- point star and symbols. Alucard gave Matt a mocking salute, and the sigil suddenly turned red.
Matt felt magic appear below him, and he glanced down. The same five- pointed star on the back of Alucard's glove was now on the floor directly underneath Matt. It was large enough that Matt stood in the space made by the five lines.
Matt's gaze returned to Alucard as red light drifted up from the sigil to surround Matt. He looked at the red light surrounding him unconcernedly.
The light reached a new intensity, making Matt look as if he was in a pillar of blood, when suddenly there was a flash and the light vanished.
Alucard looked at Matt, his expression unchanged. But Matt could feel the other vampire's curiosity, and glee.
"Well, since the seal art didn't work..."
Alucard reached into his jacket with his right hand and drew forth an obscenely big silver handgun. He pointed it at Matt, who looked on unconcerned.
"...I'll have to destroy you."
Alucard pulled the trigger, and time seemed to slow down as the rifle caliber bullet flew toward Matt. Alucard's eyebrows rose slightly as he felt a focusing of power from Matt and he suddenly...moved.
Matt didn't blur, though some might think that he did. Alucard knew better. Matt simply was in one place, then he was in another, leaving behind a very clear after image, which seemed to be composed of very still water, with no ripple or movement of any kind.
The bullet passed to the real Matt's right, through the after image, which faded away. Alucard looked into Matt's eyes, which had been lazy and calm a moment before. Now they were alert, and angry. Matt suddenly shot forward, leaving behind four after images, which faded as he got a certain distance away, only to be recreated anew. He covered the ground between Alucard and himself in a fraction of a second, and his right fist snapped out to collide with Alucard's chest, quickly followed by Matt's left fist, which gave Alucard a vicious uppercut, sending the taller vampire flying into the air.
Time returned to normal for Alucard as he started his decent. He fell flat on his back, but instead of impacting the floor, he sank into it, reappearing seven feet behind Matt, shooting up from the floor so fast his trench coat continued upward for a moment when he stopped.
Alucard stared at Matt for a second. Then his eyes widened, the muscles in his face going strangely taught, and the space right between his eyes grew darker. Matt's eyes narrowed.
"Don't even bother. With your current level of restricted power, you can't beat me, no matter how hard you try. And since I'm not attacking you, or a human, the request to release some of the seal will be denied. And as I am not a part of Hellsing, trying to place the seal on me won't work. Did you forget that in order for that part of the restriction art to work, you have to be willing to have a member of the Hellsing household as your master?"
Alucard's face relaxed and the dark energy he had gathered dispersed harmlessly.
"Indeed. You may prove more interesting than I thought."
Alucard reached into his coat with his hand, and returned the gun to its holster. He then turned and started to walk back into the wall.
"Alucard!"
He stopped and turned toward Matt, one half of his face in the wall, the other half still visible.
"Don't try to place the seal on me again. If you do, I will give you several wounds that will not heal."
Alucard raised one eyebrow at Matt's angry tone, then the other as he saw that Matt was holding a katana. Alucard's interest rose even more as he realized two little facts that should've made it rather impossible for Matt to be holding the sword.
The first, and more obvious, fact was that Matt hadn't had the sword on him before now, and there wasn't enough room in his sweats to hold the sword and allow him to move around like he did.
The second reason was far more puzzling. That sword was filled to the brim with holy magic, as well as being a silver blade. Merely touching the hilt with the tip of his finger should've taken Matt's hand and forearm off with the amount of power he was currently channeling.
Alucard didn't nod, or give any kind of response that he had even heard Matt. He simply faced forward once again, and walked through the wall.
Matt looked at the spot where Alucard had vanished, and then he turned and continued walking to his room. As he walked, the sword in his hand slowly turned into mist, which was absorbed into his arm.
After a little while of walking, Matt came to his room. The room was practically bare. A four-poster coffin rested in one corner, with a non- descript table, and an equally non-descript dresser, were the only things in the room. A quick magical scan and he discovered that the room had no magical defenses. At all.
"Hmm...This just will not do."
-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_- _-_-_-
Integra entered her office. She shut the door behind her, and looked around. In the early hours of the morning, the office was lit with only natural light, giving everything a pale, ethereal look.
Integra walked over to her desk, and sank into the rather large chair behind it. Integra looked around her office again, her new eyes showing her things that she had never before seen. Such as a table across the room, with a scratch on one of its legs, or how the painting of her great- grandfather had a finger print in the upper left corner. Such trivial things, yet now that she could see them, they drew her eye as if they had some great importance to her.
She reached out with her hands, picked up a match with her right, and a cigar with her left. As she lit the match, her face was thrown into sharp detail, the light from the match illuminating her face.
As the flame of the match came into contact with the cigar, Alucard stepped into the room.
Integra studied Alucard over the cigar as the flame from the match took, and the cigar lit. Before she removed the match, Alucard looked her in the eyes, and he was struck by how the light was reflected by her crimson eyes. It seemed as if the match light reflected in her eyes represented her indomitable will, which was constantly burning within her.
"Why did you attack Dark's Bane's vampire?"
Alucard grinned.
"It's the first time that I've felt a vampire with his power that safeguards humans."
Integra took a long, slow drag on her cigar.
"Incognito served a human master, just like you and-"
"He doesn't serve a human master."
Alucard walked over to the window, his grin widening. As he passed Integra's desk, he dropped a blood packet onto it.
"Matt has erected impressive magical shields around his mind. At my current sealed level of power, I could not break through. But I can judge his power."
Integra leaned back into her chair, and exhaled the smoke from the cigar. After a moment, she motioned Alucard to continue.
"His power level is very high. I would need to unlock the seal to level three to deal with him if all it came down to was sheer power."
Alucard tilted his head back, interest and glee filling his voice as his grin grew, displaying his fangs. His eyes were wide, his entire body was tense, and he continued.
"No, it is his skill. He knows more about vampire magic than any vampire except an elder. He even knows a trick that I thought only one vampire knew. Battling with him will be an unrivaled pleasure."
Integra looked at Alucard out of the corner of her eye. She returned her attention to her desk as she took one last drag on the cigar and then put it out. She picked up the blood packet, and popped the top off of the straw, then slowly drank the red liquid within.
"Alucard, you are not to attack Matt so long as he is an ally. If he betrays us for any reason, then you may battle with him. But until then, steer clear of him. I will not have you running the risk of turning Dark's Bane into an enemy. They don't recognize territorial boundaries, and fighting with them would be disastrous for Hellsing at this point."
Alucard gave no indication that he had heard her. But he relaxed, and his eyes closed lazily. His fangs were once again hidden by his lips, which were now drawn into a small grin.
"And you, Master Integra, must not overuse your powers to spy on me as you did this evening. Such activity could cripple you for a time."
Integra drained the last of the blood, and dropped the empty packet into the waste bin. She then pushed back her chair and stood up, turning to her room, which was adjacent to her office.
"Very well Alucard. Good day."
There was no answer, and out of the corner of her eye, Integra could see that Alucard was already gone.
:Author's Notes:
Sorry for the long wait between updates. My computers being a pain. Hopefully I should have the next chapter up much sooner.
Anyway, what cha' think?
Also, one last thing. To the anonymous reviewer 'I': This is my story, written as a continuation with how I interpreted the series and characters. If you disagree with me, then convince me through the use of logic, NOT simply saying 'you are wrong'. Your review of 'you shouldnt have seras not liking alucard' was a waste of both your time and mine.
Right. Sorry about that, but the above reviewer just rubbed me the wrong way. Totally useless.
Till next chapter then.
The Hellsing Manor was quiet at Night. Most of the operatives were sleeping, with only a select few awake. Those select few were the night watch and guard, and the resident vampires. One such vampire was currently looking at the portraits of the heads of Hellsing.
Integra looked at her father's portrait with an expression of sadness on her face.
The expression abruptly vanished when she heard the door behind her open. She whipped around, her mask back in place. She relaxed when she saw it was only Walter. He was the only person who was ever able to see Integra as she truly was. A person who still had feelings, who missed her father with all her heart, and everyday asked herself; 'am I honoring his memory?'
Integra turned back to her father's portrait, and let the mask fall. She heard Walter maneuvering his wheelchair so that he sat to her left. Silence reigned for a minute as they both studied the portrait, remembering the man it showed.
To one, he had been the best of friends, an ally, and a leader.
To the other, he had been the strict, but absolutely loving father.
"Do you think I did the right thing Walter?"
Walter turned his head to look at Integra and saw her still studying the portrait with an odd expression on her face.
"Becoming a vampire, I mean. It seems somehow ironic, and somewhat wrong, that a vampire leads the Hellsing house in its mission."
Walter returned his attention to the portrait.
"No more than having the best agent be the most powerful Vampire of all. I do know this, Miss Integra; No matter what your path, or your decisions upon it, your father would've been proud of you, and loved you. He always was. And he always will be. In heaven, he supports you in whatever you do. Remember that."
Integra nodded, and looked down at Walter. He looked at her and saw the relieved expression on her face. Then the mask fell back into place. But there was something different. This time, the mask seemed somehow softer, but in a strange way, far more powerful than before. Integra nodded, then turned and left.
Walter turned his wheelchair around and headed out of the room as well.
-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_- _-_-_-
Elsewhere in the Hellsing mansion, another woman was reflecting on her past. The time period she was reflecting on was much closer to the present, however. More specifically, the last ten minutes, as she attempted to put her twin children to bed.
Sam grinned slightly thinking of her children. They were always a handful, an occasionally aggravating and infuriating handful. Just like their father.
Sam's grin grew as she smoothed back the hair from her son's forehead carefully. He shifted slightly in his sleep, as did his twin a moment later.
Sam removed her hand, and stood. She walked away from her children's bed, and upon reaching the oak door, quietly opened it. She entered the room that the door led to and closed it just as quietly. She had learned the hard way that both of her children were VERY light sleepers, and would often wake at the slightest noise.
She turned around and fully entered her room, seeing Doug sitting on the bed in a pair of sweat pants, his back to her. He wasn't wearing a shirt, and several scars on his back were visible. Sam also knew that there were several scars on the front on his body.
Sam climbed onto the bed, a large queen size affair, and moved to behind Doug. She gently wrapped her arms around him and rested her chin on his left shoulder. She felt his well-muscled chest expand, and heard him take in a deep breath through his nose. She smiled slightly as he inhaled her scent.
Sam closed her eyes and gently touched the scar on Doug's face. The breath he had just drawn in slowly was exhaled in a slight hiss. Doug raised his right hand and caught Sam's.
Sam continued to trace the scar, Doug's hand still holding hers.
While the scar merely looked straight and small, it wasn't. If Doug had been wearing a shirt, it would've hidden how the scar suddenly became much larger. The scar actually ran from Doug's temple, curved just below his ribcage, and finally tapered off just above and to the left of his navel. By the time their hands had reached the end of the scar, Doug was shivering slightly.
Sam gripped Doug's hand hard. She knew why he was shivering. Knew that no matter what he did, no matter how many enemies he defeated, how many monsters he destroyed, that this was one he could never win against. Doug had lost one family, seen the mutilated bodies of his siblings and parents. He was always afraid that he would come home one day to discover the mutilated bodies of his wife and children.
Sam merely held him, trying to reassure him through willpower alone that she was there, and she would always be there. Especially if she had anything to say about it. Doug received the unspoken message, and grinned. Yes, Sam would most definitely have something to say to the creature that would burst in through that door with killing intention. After all, if Sam could knock him around when she wanted to, there was nothing to say she couldn't do it to other things as well.
Doug turned around to face his wife, still encircled in her arms, and kissed her. When he drew back he noticed something.
"Aren't those my clothes?"
Sam looked down at the clothes she was wearing and grinned. They were indeed Doug's, a ratty white t-shirt, and a pair of gray sweats, both worn, and thoroughly comfortable.
"Why yes, they are. Why? Do you want them back?"
Sam's grin changed slightly, as did Doug's, and Sam grabbed the bottom of the shirt, and started to pull it upward. She was stopped by Doug's hand.
"Maybe later. Until then..."
"'Until then' what?"
Doug didn't answer verbally. Instead, he suddenly attacked Sam's sides viciously, making her shriek with laughter. She collapsed back onto the bed, and tried to move away from Doug, but he pinned her in place and continued to tickle her. He stopped a minute or so later to let her catch her breath. Sam took advantage of the respite, holding her sides and gasping for breath. She looked up at Doug, wary of a recommencement of the tickling. He grinned down at her, and crooked his fingers. He started to reach for her, Sam preparing a defense, when suddenly he stopped, his ear giving a slight twitch.
Doug's grin suddenly widened, and he bent down toward her slightly. Sam could feel the muscles in his body tensing. He closed his eyes, and Sam could see his ears moving back and forth.
Doug's eyes snapped open, and he back flipped off the bed, while still in a kneeling position, and landed in a crouch just behind one of the many couches spread around the room. Sam raised an eyebrow when she heard two identical squeals of surprise and Doug stood up, holding the twins, one in each hand, by the back of their shirts. Like kittens grabbed by the scruff of the neck, the twins hung there helplessly, looking at their mother with pleading eyes for help. Sam merely grinned at the twins as Doug walked over to the bed, twins in hand.
"Now, mind telling me what you two were doing, sneaking in here?"
The twins exchanged looks before one of them answered.
"We heard mama laughing, and decided to see if we could ambush you two."
Doug looked down at his son with a mixture of pride and humor on his face.
"Ambush us, huh? Well then, in that case..."
Doug and Sam traded duplicate grins before Doug tossed their daughter to Sam and set about tickling his son. Sam caught her daughter, pinned her to the bed, and mercilessly attacked her sides. The twin's laughter echoed in the room for a minute before things escalated.
Doug's son, in an effort to get away from his father, crawled backward across the bed, Doug following, his fingers still crooked. The boy's hand came down on something soft that wasn't attached to the bed, and he grabbed it and swung it at his father. Doug reeled at the unexpected blow.
Silence reigned for a moment as Doug's son looked at his father, then at the pillow he had just used on Doug, then finally back to Doug. Suddenly the boys face split into a delighted grin, and he stood up, drew his arms back, took aim, and let his father have it.
Sam was laughing as Doug raised his arms in defense and tried to step away. But he tripped on the bed sheets, and tumbled off onto the floor, with his son in hot pursuit. Sam would've kept laughing had a pillow not hit her in the face. Sam's daughter laughed as she drew back her arms for another blow. Sam dived for a pillow, her arm at full extension. As her hand closed around one of the pillows, she felt the second blow from her daughter hit, but Sam shrugged it off, and swung the pillow she had just acquired. Her daughter stumbled back from the blow, and Sam grabbed another pillow.
"Doug!"
He looked up, dropping his guard for a second. His son jumped up and walloped him in the face and Doug stumbled back. He looked at his wife and she tossed him the pillow. Grinning his thanks, Doug went on the attack, ruthlessly beating his son down with the pillow. The boy retreated back to the bed, laughing as he got a swing in.
Sam blocked a blow from her daughter, then swung in return. The child ducked under the blow, and darted away. Sam moved to follow but a pillow hit her backside and she yelped, swinging around to see her son grinning at her. Sam drew back her arms for a blow, but her daughter followed her twin's cue, and hit Sam with her pillow, again on the backside. Sam yelped again, and swung her pillow behind her. But she saw her daughter move into her peripheral vision out of the way of the attack. Sam suddenly knew that she was about to be double teamed by her children as they drew back their arms to take advantage of her defenseless stance.
They had all completely forgotten about Doug.
Doug came in, swinging like mad. One horizontal swing brought his son down, hitting him fully with the pillow, and laying the boy out flat on the bed. Doug tensed the muscles in his arms and chest, then brought the pillow back around, swinging it into his daughters face as the girl went to attack Sam. She joined her twin spread eagle on the bed.
Sam grinned her thanks at her husband till she noticed the gleam in his eye. Sam started to bring her arms up in defense, but Doug's speed proved the deciding factor as the pillow hit her in the face with the force necessary to sprawl Sam out on the bed.
"Bwahahahahahaha! I am the pillow fight KING!!"
Doug struck what he obviously thought was a heroic pose, right leg fully extended slightly behind him, left leg crooked at the knee a bit, right hand on his hip, and left hand fully extended, pillow held high. He head was thrown back, with his golden eyes fixed on the pillow in his hand. His family looked at him for a moment before Sam spoke.
"Yes. None of us could beat you single handedly."
Doug nodded, coming out of his pose, and then froze. Something about that statement sent alarms in the back of his head ringing. He looked at Sam with a slightly worried grin to see a look of total innocence on her face. Doug was not reassured.
"So we'll have to gang up on you! GET EM'!!!"
"EEP!"
Doug froze like a deer caught in headlights, then disappeared beneath the mass of his family as they pounced on him, pummeling him with their pillows. This continued for a moment until Doug decided to end it, and reclaim his title as the Pillow King.
He watched his son draw back his arms, and tensed. At a crucial moment, Doug's arm snapped out, fingers fully extended and next to each other. There was a tearing noise as Doug's fingers tore through the pillow and down feathers flew about the room. Doug withdrew his arm and shot it out again, this time catching Sam's pillow. The pillow tore just like its brethren and feathers once again shot out to cover the room. Doug's daughter stood gaping at the mess for a moment. She snapped out of her shock when Doug calmly reached over and plucked the pillow from her hands. She blinked at her empty hands, then yelped with indignity as the pillow that was suddenly pilfered from her hands hit her back and sent her sprawling.
All three looked up and grinned sheepishly at the sight of Doug standing above them, a pillow in each hand.
Sam suddenly darted toward the bed in an attempt to gain another pillow, but Doug stopped her by throwing one of the pillows he had, and hitting her on the back. She pitched forward onto the bed, and rolled over onto her back, in reach of the pillows. Her fingers were just brushing one of the pillows when Doug landed on the bed, aimed perfectly so that all he had to do was sit down, straddling her waist, and pinning her to the bed.
Doug threw the other pillow he had to the head of the bed, and then attacked Sam's sides with his fingers once again. Sam writhed beneath him, shrieking with laughter. As her arms were free this time around, she grabbed his wrists, and attempted to shove his arms away. Doug's greater strength made this a vain effort.
"OOF!"
Doug suddenly pitched forward, the twins having jumped on his back. This unexpected attack caused Doug to collapse onto Sam, who merely grinned up at him and caught her breath.
Doug reached behind him with both of his arms and grabbed the twins. After placing them onto the bed, he rolled off of Sam and sat up, surveying everyone.
"Good warm-up, what's next?"
Sam didn't answer immediately. Instead, she sat up and pushed herself to the head of the bed, where she leaned against the headboard. She stretched her legs out before her, sighing as the muscles stretched a bit. The twins crawled over to their mother and sidled up next to her. Sam obligingly raised her arms, allowing the twins to lie against her sides. She then looked at Doug.
"No more rough-housing tonight."
Doug pouted, the twins following suit.
"But mama, we're not a bit tired."
Sam looked down at her son. Her attention then switched to her daughter as she spoke.
"He's right, not a bit ti.."
She was cut off mid sentence by a rather large yawn. It seemed that last attack against Doug had taken the last of the twin's reserves.
Doug crawled up the bed, picking up his daughter as he took the spot she had just occupied to Sam's right. Doug leaned back against the headboard and raised his left arm. Sam took the invitation, and leaned against him, snuggling close as she moved her right arm behind him to grip Doug about the waist. Sam held her son to her with her left arm, the boy already asleep. Doug's daughter, also asleep, leaned against his left side, Doug's arm around her protectively.
Sam looked around the room and winced at the mess.
"We've been here less than five hours, and we've already torn the place apart."
Doug chuckled, and kissed the top of Sam's head.
"I have trained you all well."
Sam punched him in the side for that comment, then drifted off to sleep, Doug soon following.
-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_- _-_-_-
Elsewhere in the Hellsing Manor, Seras was walking the halls, bored out of her mind. She was currently trying to decide what to do.
(Well, I could go to the gym and mock whoever's in there, I could visit Walter, I could go the firing range and mock whoever's in there...might as well go to the firing range. At least practicing with the guns does something."
Seras set off with her destination in mind. For some unknown reason, she decided to take the long way around, which passed by the gym. Seras tucked her hands into the pockets of her skirt, and started walking lazily toward the firing range, gaze slightly focused on the path before her.
After a few minutes of walking, Seras passed the gym and saw that the doors were open as usual. As she passed she glanced in and stopped dead.
The gym was usually empty at night, and at first Seras thought it was empty, since the lights were off.
But the gym had one occupant, who was apparently totally focused on mutilating one of the punching bags. Seras watched as the figure circled the punching bag, raining it with blows powerful enough to make the bag bend around the fist or foot as it impacted, then sway away violently, only to have the figure somehow move to the other side of the bag and hit it back the other way.
Seras watched the figure closely and because of this she was able to catch a glimpse of his face when he moved through a shaft of moonlight, let in by one of the high windows.
Slightly unruly blond hair framed the face of a seventeen year old with red eyes. The moonlight glinted off of the earring he had in his left ear, as well as the fangs, revealed by his slightly open mouth. A white tank top revealing well-muscled arms to great effect was tucked into a pair of baggy gray sweatpants, the cords tightened so they wouldn't fall. His hands and feet were bare.
Seras found herself staring at Matt as he moved fluidly, lashing out with his right arm and burying his fist in the punching bag with enough force to break through a brick wall. The punching bag's only saving factor was that it could disperse the force by moving away slightly. With her vampire sight, she could see the muscles moving underneath the skin, tightening and loosening to bring his arm back.
Matt stepped to the left as the bag made its return swing, and he drew his left leg up to waist height, and back, knee bent completely. Then Matt swung his leg out, impacting the bag. Matt's arms were both relaxed, his right crooked at the elbow at a ninety degree angle, his left extended behind him. His hands, Seras noted, were totally relaxed, fingers slightly crooked.
Matt withdrew his leg and raised his hand to catch the bag as it came back. His arm absorbed the swinging force of the eighty-pound bag easily.
Matt took a deep breath, then turned suddenly and looked right at Seras. Her eyes widened with surprise as she unexpected found herself looking him in the eye.
Seras found herself overcome with a sudden bout of nervousness. She found herself fidgeting and mentally cursed herself for it. It wasn't until Matt broke the eye contact by looking at the punching bag and taking it down did the nervousness passed.
If Seras had known that Matt had been feeling the same nervousness as she was, and had decided to put the bag away so he could break the eye contact, she might have been a bit heartened. But it still didn't change what she decided to do next.
Seras walked into the gym over to Matt, who had swung the bag onto his shoulder and was currently walking over to the area that the bags were kept. After reaching the other bags, he swung the bag he was carrying over his shoulder and let it drop onto the ground. He then turned back around and leaned up against the bags, crossing his legs at the ankles, waiting for her. Seras closed the distance, and for a moment, silence reigned. Finally, Seras came up with a question and started a conversation.
"Where'd you learn to fight like that?"
Matt shrugged and crossed his arms before replying.
"We've got a few martial arts instructors in Dark's Bane, and they taught me the basics of their styles."
Seras looked at him quizzically.
"Just the basics? What about the advanced moves?"
"Something didn't feel right when they started to teach me the advanced moves, and I kept making mistakes. Since Doug had the same problem, he helped me solve my own. Taught me to make my own style, taking the basics I had learned, and improvising from there. I've been working at it for the past five years."
Seras smiled slightly.
"And here I thought the training I received at the academy made me a proficient fighter."
Matt chuckled, closing his eyes slightly, and looking at the ground.
"There's a difference between a proficient fighter, and a martial artist."
"Ah yes, the 'inner power'."
Matt looked up at her, his eyebrows raised. Seras laughed lightly.
"Oh come on, you know! I've heard all martial arts styles are based on something, some form of movement, like an animal. Hence, a styles inner power that the fighter draws upon. I wonder what kind of power you use to fight."
Matt grinned at her, displaying his fangs, when he suddenly moved. Seras didn't start in surprise, but it was a narrow thing. Instead she brought up her hand in an attempt to catch Matt's fist, or at least block the punch aimed at her face. The punch never came near her face; suddenly moving down to lightly hit her just beneath the ribcage. Seras backed away a few steps and glared at Matt. He laughed in response, then spoke.
"Fire."
"Huh?"
"The inner power of my style is fire. You never know where a flame will move to next. Totally unpredictable, fire can be a gently crackling blaze one moment, a raging inferno the next, sweeping everything in its path aside with unrivaled speed and power. And it's nearly impossible to hit. Flame always seems to bend out of the way of anything that is sent its way, moving around the object, letting it pass unharmed, then turning on it and consuming it once it's passed."
Seras' mouth formed a small 'O' of understanding as she contemplated what Matt said. After a moment, she looked at Matt, who was studying her.
"Can you teach me?"
Matt's first impulse was to refuse, but something made him give the idea serious thought. After a moment of thinking, he looked at Seras, taking in her height and making a guess at her weight. Finally, after keeping Seras waiting for a minute or two, Matt spoke.
"Sure. But we can't start tonight. Or at least, not now."
At Seras' confused look, Matt elaborated.
"You've got the wrong kind of clothes on."
Seras looked down at the clothes she was wearing. A red shirt exposing her midriff, a black mini-skirt, with black leggings that ended short of her skirt, as well as black arm coverings that left the last few inches of her upper arm exposed.
"Try the wrong moves in that outfit, and you'll expose a lot more than you want."
Seras looked back up at Matt with only a slight blush. She grinned at him as she spoke.
"Strange, I thought this outfit would've made you more inclined to teach me."
Matt blinked before grinning at her. He pushed off of the punching bag he was leaning against and walked out several feet so that he had some room to maneuver.
"Well, if you want to train in that, go right ahead."
He fell into a stance and beckoned her forward. Seras' grin faded.
(Damn, he called my bluff.)
"On second thought, no. If it's alright, I'd like to start training tomorrow."
Matt's grin widened and he nodded. He came out of his stance and stood up to his full height. He then stretched his arms over his head, standing on tiptoe to stretch his legs as well. Seras suddenly realized just how tall Matt was. Seras stood at about 5'5", but Matt was a few inches over six feet, though he unconsciously slouched, which detracted quite a bit from his height. Matt fell back to his feet, and his shoulders slouched down, but Seras was still left with the impression of just how tall he was.
"Ah. Well, then I'll see you tomorrow night."
Matt nodded at her, and turned to leave.
"Oh. One last question."
Matt turned around to answer.
"Earlier when we were fighting, and I...well..."
"Used the cheap shot?"
Seras nodded, a slight blush of embarrassment.
"How did you come through that with no effect?"
Matt grinned at her discomfort, and waved his hand lazily.
"Nothin' to it. It's a type of focus that I've got. I simply ignore the pain to deal with later on. Works with everything."
Seras nodded, and the two went their separate ways for the moment.
-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_- _-_-_-
Walter was, as usual, working. The fact that it was around three in the morning, and that he was at the moment handicapped made no difference to him.
At the moment he was sitting in his wheel chair at his desk, typing away on his computer, designing specs for new weapons. The current weaponry were a request from Seras.
Walter reached over to his left and picked up the cup of strong coffee. After taking a liberal gulp of the black liquid, he placed the cup back and prepared to start typing.
Knock knock.
Walter's head snapped up in surprise to look at the door. Most people simply came and went, never bothering to knock. Walter didn't really mind, since it wasn't his room.
"Come in."
The door opened and a bald man entered, a duffel bag thrown over one shoulder. He was wearing a black long sleeved shirt, and a pair of black jeans. A pair of sunglasses covered his eyes, but Walter didn't need the sunglasses removed to know that this particular man appeared to not even have eyes.
Black entered, and looked around, studying the room. After a moment, he nodded and looked at Walter.
"I hope I'm not interrupting."
Walter shook his head to the negative and Black continued.
"I've been looking for a room suitable to set up my workplace, and while I have found a few that would do, this room is by far the best. I was hoping that I could set up my equipment in here."
"You're the weapon smith for Dark's Bane, correct?"
"Among other things."
"Well then, make yourself at home. This is my workplace where I design specialized weapons, and I'm sure we could come to a mutually advantageous arrangement."
"It would be my pleasure and honor to work with you, Angle of Death."
Walter gave no expression of surprise at Black knowing his old nickname, re-focusing on his laptop.
Black walked over to a currently unused counter and placed his bag upon it. Black opened the bag and started to pull out various objects. At first Walter didn't pay much attention, as the objects would've easily fit into the bag. A binder, a laptop much like Walter's, a plastic box filled with floppy discs, an old book, and an old-fashioned treasure chest at least twice the bag's size. Walter's head snapped around as he caught the size of the object in the corner of his eye.
Walter watched as Black easily maneuvered the chest onto the floor, sitting in front of a spot where there were no cupboards. Walter's mouth slowly fell open as Black started to draw forth more objects from the innocent looking black duffle bag.
After nearly ten minutes of Black pulling out objects of both a technological and magical variety, some objects defying the laws of physics by even being able to fit past the bag's opening, Walter felt as if his jaw would never fit properly back into place.
Black grinned upon seeing Walter's expression, and he walked over and patted Walter on the back. Walter's jaws shut with a snap, and he looked at Black out of the corner of his eye.
"How did you DO that?"
Black shrugged while his grin widened.
"Practice."
Walter felt a muscle in the back of his neck start to tick.
-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_- _-_-_-
Matt walked down the hallway of the catacombs of Hellsing Manor toward his room. His eyes were half closed and he slouched as he walked, giving an appearance of total laziness. It wasn't all that far from the truth as Matt was a rather lazy person, and he always felt rather sloth like after a training session. As the night was winding down, Matt had the idea to unpack and then sleep the day away.
Matt's expression didn't change as he suddenly felt an unfamiliar presence. He continued to walk toward his room, and as he did so, he analyzed the presence. Darkness, with a foul, insane feeling to it, but with an overlay of cleanliness. After a moment, the image of a five- pointed star with symbols forming a circle around the star appeared in Matt's mind, formed of red energy. Matt stopped walking, and looked at the wall to the left and slightly in front of him.
"Come on out 'Big Red.'"
The wall seemed to ripple, turning to dark water for a moment, and He stepped out. Matt, like every hunter worth the name, had heard stories about the man in front of him.
Much taller than Matt, wearing an old fashioned black suit with a blood red leather trench coat, he usually wore a wide brimmed blood red hat. Coupled with his red eyes, which were now visible, he had earned the nickname Big Red. His trademark insane grin in place, he stared down at Matt, and Matt felt the man's sheer presence, enough to dominate most people, whether they were Vampire or human. He was thin to the point of gauntness, but no one believed that appearance, since there were too many stories of his tearing buildings apart with his bare hands. The man's midnight black hair tapered off into a point just above the man's shoulders. The man's head tilted back, and his grin widened, his lips stretching to reveal his fangs in all their accursed glory. Before Matt stood the vampire widely accepted to be among the most powerful, if not the most powerful, in existence. The First Immortal.
Alucard.
"So you are the child of the night in Dark's Bane's employ."
Matt felt Alucard's sheer presence sweep over him, the magical force of the Dead Lord enveloping Matt. Matt felt a pressure appear against the mental shields he had constantly erected, and he knew Alucard was attempting to read Matt's mind, no matter how passively.
Alucard's expression didn't change, but Matt sensed the Dead Lord's irritation as the pressure on Matt's mental defenses increased.
Matt's expression remained unchanged, lazy and bored, as the pressure continued to increase. Finally the pressure stopped increasing but remained, and Matt smirked internally.
Suddenly the pressure vanished altogether. Alucard raised his right hand, and Matt spotted the white glove, the back decorated with a five- point star and symbols. Alucard gave Matt a mocking salute, and the sigil suddenly turned red.
Matt felt magic appear below him, and he glanced down. The same five- pointed star on the back of Alucard's glove was now on the floor directly underneath Matt. It was large enough that Matt stood in the space made by the five lines.
Matt's gaze returned to Alucard as red light drifted up from the sigil to surround Matt. He looked at the red light surrounding him unconcernedly.
The light reached a new intensity, making Matt look as if he was in a pillar of blood, when suddenly there was a flash and the light vanished.
Alucard looked at Matt, his expression unchanged. But Matt could feel the other vampire's curiosity, and glee.
"Well, since the seal art didn't work..."
Alucard reached into his jacket with his right hand and drew forth an obscenely big silver handgun. He pointed it at Matt, who looked on unconcerned.
"...I'll have to destroy you."
Alucard pulled the trigger, and time seemed to slow down as the rifle caliber bullet flew toward Matt. Alucard's eyebrows rose slightly as he felt a focusing of power from Matt and he suddenly...moved.
Matt didn't blur, though some might think that he did. Alucard knew better. Matt simply was in one place, then he was in another, leaving behind a very clear after image, which seemed to be composed of very still water, with no ripple or movement of any kind.
The bullet passed to the real Matt's right, through the after image, which faded away. Alucard looked into Matt's eyes, which had been lazy and calm a moment before. Now they were alert, and angry. Matt suddenly shot forward, leaving behind four after images, which faded as he got a certain distance away, only to be recreated anew. He covered the ground between Alucard and himself in a fraction of a second, and his right fist snapped out to collide with Alucard's chest, quickly followed by Matt's left fist, which gave Alucard a vicious uppercut, sending the taller vampire flying into the air.
Time returned to normal for Alucard as he started his decent. He fell flat on his back, but instead of impacting the floor, he sank into it, reappearing seven feet behind Matt, shooting up from the floor so fast his trench coat continued upward for a moment when he stopped.
Alucard stared at Matt for a second. Then his eyes widened, the muscles in his face going strangely taught, and the space right between his eyes grew darker. Matt's eyes narrowed.
"Don't even bother. With your current level of restricted power, you can't beat me, no matter how hard you try. And since I'm not attacking you, or a human, the request to release some of the seal will be denied. And as I am not a part of Hellsing, trying to place the seal on me won't work. Did you forget that in order for that part of the restriction art to work, you have to be willing to have a member of the Hellsing household as your master?"
Alucard's face relaxed and the dark energy he had gathered dispersed harmlessly.
"Indeed. You may prove more interesting than I thought."
Alucard reached into his coat with his hand, and returned the gun to its holster. He then turned and started to walk back into the wall.
"Alucard!"
He stopped and turned toward Matt, one half of his face in the wall, the other half still visible.
"Don't try to place the seal on me again. If you do, I will give you several wounds that will not heal."
Alucard raised one eyebrow at Matt's angry tone, then the other as he saw that Matt was holding a katana. Alucard's interest rose even more as he realized two little facts that should've made it rather impossible for Matt to be holding the sword.
The first, and more obvious, fact was that Matt hadn't had the sword on him before now, and there wasn't enough room in his sweats to hold the sword and allow him to move around like he did.
The second reason was far more puzzling. That sword was filled to the brim with holy magic, as well as being a silver blade. Merely touching the hilt with the tip of his finger should've taken Matt's hand and forearm off with the amount of power he was currently channeling.
Alucard didn't nod, or give any kind of response that he had even heard Matt. He simply faced forward once again, and walked through the wall.
Matt looked at the spot where Alucard had vanished, and then he turned and continued walking to his room. As he walked, the sword in his hand slowly turned into mist, which was absorbed into his arm.
After a little while of walking, Matt came to his room. The room was practically bare. A four-poster coffin rested in one corner, with a non- descript table, and an equally non-descript dresser, were the only things in the room. A quick magical scan and he discovered that the room had no magical defenses. At all.
"Hmm...This just will not do."
-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_- _-_-_-
Integra entered her office. She shut the door behind her, and looked around. In the early hours of the morning, the office was lit with only natural light, giving everything a pale, ethereal look.
Integra walked over to her desk, and sank into the rather large chair behind it. Integra looked around her office again, her new eyes showing her things that she had never before seen. Such as a table across the room, with a scratch on one of its legs, or how the painting of her great- grandfather had a finger print in the upper left corner. Such trivial things, yet now that she could see them, they drew her eye as if they had some great importance to her.
She reached out with her hands, picked up a match with her right, and a cigar with her left. As she lit the match, her face was thrown into sharp detail, the light from the match illuminating her face.
As the flame of the match came into contact with the cigar, Alucard stepped into the room.
Integra studied Alucard over the cigar as the flame from the match took, and the cigar lit. Before she removed the match, Alucard looked her in the eyes, and he was struck by how the light was reflected by her crimson eyes. It seemed as if the match light reflected in her eyes represented her indomitable will, which was constantly burning within her.
"Why did you attack Dark's Bane's vampire?"
Alucard grinned.
"It's the first time that I've felt a vampire with his power that safeguards humans."
Integra took a long, slow drag on her cigar.
"Incognito served a human master, just like you and-"
"He doesn't serve a human master."
Alucard walked over to the window, his grin widening. As he passed Integra's desk, he dropped a blood packet onto it.
"Matt has erected impressive magical shields around his mind. At my current sealed level of power, I could not break through. But I can judge his power."
Integra leaned back into her chair, and exhaled the smoke from the cigar. After a moment, she motioned Alucard to continue.
"His power level is very high. I would need to unlock the seal to level three to deal with him if all it came down to was sheer power."
Alucard tilted his head back, interest and glee filling his voice as his grin grew, displaying his fangs. His eyes were wide, his entire body was tense, and he continued.
"No, it is his skill. He knows more about vampire magic than any vampire except an elder. He even knows a trick that I thought only one vampire knew. Battling with him will be an unrivaled pleasure."
Integra looked at Alucard out of the corner of her eye. She returned her attention to her desk as she took one last drag on the cigar and then put it out. She picked up the blood packet, and popped the top off of the straw, then slowly drank the red liquid within.
"Alucard, you are not to attack Matt so long as he is an ally. If he betrays us for any reason, then you may battle with him. But until then, steer clear of him. I will not have you running the risk of turning Dark's Bane into an enemy. They don't recognize territorial boundaries, and fighting with them would be disastrous for Hellsing at this point."
Alucard gave no indication that he had heard her. But he relaxed, and his eyes closed lazily. His fangs were once again hidden by his lips, which were now drawn into a small grin.
"And you, Master Integra, must not overuse your powers to spy on me as you did this evening. Such activity could cripple you for a time."
Integra drained the last of the blood, and dropped the empty packet into the waste bin. She then pushed back her chair and stood up, turning to her room, which was adjacent to her office.
"Very well Alucard. Good day."
There was no answer, and out of the corner of her eye, Integra could see that Alucard was already gone.
:Author's Notes:
Sorry for the long wait between updates. My computers being a pain. Hopefully I should have the next chapter up much sooner.
Anyway, what cha' think?
Also, one last thing. To the anonymous reviewer 'I': This is my story, written as a continuation with how I interpreted the series and characters. If you disagree with me, then convince me through the use of logic, NOT simply saying 'you are wrong'. Your review of 'you shouldnt have seras not liking alucard' was a waste of both your time and mine.
Right. Sorry about that, but the above reviewer just rubbed me the wrong way. Totally useless.
Till next chapter then.