Disclaimer: I do not own Hellsing. I just love writing stories using the wonderful characters created by Khota Hirano.
I feel like I've been reduced to a toy soldier, my every movement controlled by that crazy fat man.He is going on and on about loving war. He operates my controls and tells me what to do. I obey him without a second thought. The murders I commit pain me – I may be under his power, but I know what I'm doing and it is wrong to kill other men.
The most awful part is who I work for. I have always hated them and now they control mrmer allies, my comrades. Integral, the woman I watched grow up and protected isseeing her city burned down. I am told I will assist in her capture. Will I be able to fulfill that command? If they order me to kill her, can I? My soul is screaming for me to leave this wretched place. Secretly I hope that the police girl or Integral will put an end to my sins before I go completely insane.
I feel my mind slipping away with each human life I take. Yet, inside I cling to that shadow of the man I used to be. When that shadow disappears from my soul completely - Walter Dollneaz will no longer exist. I can only pray that someone kills me before my soul is consumed by the monster I have become. The thirst in her capture. Will I be able to fulfill that command? If they order me to kill her, can I? My soul is screaming for me to leave this wretched place. Secretly I hope that the police girl or Integral will put an end to my sins before I go completely insane.
I feel my mind slipping away with each human life I take. Yet, inside I cling to that shadow of the man I used to be. When that shadow disappears from my soul completely - Walter Dollneaz will no longer exist. I can only pray that someone kills me before my soul is consumed by the monster I have become. The thirst for blood possesses me. So far I have not killed to feed it but I cannot resist it much longer.
The Nazi's have kept me hungry - wanting me to feed on the masses of London. I wonder who will be the unlucky one when I finally succumb to their wishes. Will it be the grocer I bought tea from? Or will I drink the blood of a baker? Shall I slaughter the mailman? Perhaps it will be one of the Hellsing soldiers I used to joke with. As much as it pains me, I think of slaughtering one of the unknown innocents I see fleeing from this nightmare. I fear that by the time I come face to face with Integral Hellsing, my madness and blood thirst will have consumed me and my first taste of human blood will be hers. I can only hope that my shadow will never let that happen.