Cwolf2: I have too many theories for my own good. I just like testing how far I can go uncanon with my fic while still writing an okay story.
Sailor Water Dragon: UPDATED!
Owlman114: It is a very uncanon theory. Very uncanon. But it was fun to piece together. But, if you want to keep with canon, my argument is that Alucard isn't REALLY Cain. But, because he is a vampire, he must be the 'child' of Cain. So, in a way, he inherited Cain's personality, beliefs, etc. Like, an extended version of Cain. Hence, he descended from the line of the Dragon. The dragon being Cain. Ohohoho. It just gets better. ;P
Deacon: I still don't write half as well other people here, and this isn't even as good as my other fics. But it has some potential.
Thanks!
Seph1: I know. Tell me about it
Melrose Stormhaven: I can't remember what his brother's name is…
Thepretender1031: I hope you like this update
Thess: Bah you and your nitpickings! BAAAHH! I'm not listening! LAALALALALA.

Dear Hellsing Fic Readers,
I really should be doing my western civilization homework. Thought I'd let you know. Cheers. Ciao. Baibai.
p.s. Go find Tori Amos' "Siren". There should be an online source to download it. Fabulous song. It really conveys Integral well as a character. Hearts and kisses.

:year six – age nineteen:

never was one for a prissy girl
coquette call in for an ambulance
reach high doesn't mean she's holy
just means she's got a cellular handy
almost brave almost pregnant
almost in love "vanilla"
know know too well
know the chill know she breaks
my siren

-Siren; Tori Amos

Pay attention to the paintings. Notice how each tapestry of cotton and twined microscopic threads of different colors are what create the larger picture. A flush of pink over the dotted figure of a girl adds sexual tension in an otherwise formal piece.

"It's a beautiful painting," A silky voice whispered, baring a line of white teeth as calm steps clacked against the shined marble of the gallery.

The person pursed lips, eyes divided between ice and cold twitching as they glanced between figures, focusing on the two distinct elements of Rembrandt's piece: Dark and light.

"You know…" The man begins, pressing a finger into the corner of his lips. "This is perhaps one of my favorite pieces. Rembrandt has a passion for contrasting light with dark. His subjects always were distinctive against dark tanned backgrounds."

The stranger said nothing, figure taut and body frigid as the man continued to ramble.

"…It could be assumed that the figures naturally illuminate like light bulbs. Or it could be assumed that this cleverly placed imagery conveys the subject's obvious difference and opposition to his very environment. Hem hem," The man pressed a scarlet handkerchief to his lips as the loose congestion played the back of his throat. "My question to you is… Did Rembrandt assume that certain people naturally gleaned with this light?"

"No," The person let a word slip from her frozen lips, bored with the man's company. "Some people are very distinct and apart from others. In fact, a few are completely separate from commonness."

The man was startled, the stranger's voice revealing femininity and adrogeny to what he originally assumed as a man. He raised a lithe brow, one eye studying the profile of his company, observing clearly asexual features untouched by makeup or stubble. Features showed little care for vanity, blonde hair pulled back with a rubber band more for necessity rather than fashion. She wore a plain suit, plain shoes, and oozed of plain features. The woman merely enlightened his curiousity.

"Pardon me. I have yet to introduce myself,"Spinning on one heel, the man thrust his right hand forward. "My name is Enrico Maxwell."

The woman refused to move, bored with the present moment. She yawned, placing a gloved hand over her mouth. Like Enrico, she turned on one heel and sauntered towards the next painting.

He stood there, hand still in the air. Never, in all his years, had he been so insulted. Especially by such a young woman. Slowly, his hand returned to the pocket stitched on either side of his trousers. Pride hurt and infuriated with the woman's impolite reply, he decided to pursuit and fix this uncomfortable situation.

"Wait now. I didn't quite catch your name."

The woman continued to keep her back turned, walking up to the next piece. Her head turned to an angle as she examined the art, ignoring the blabbering man behind her.

Enrico's mouth twitched into a frown, hands fisted as he tried to control his anger. Swallowing mixed pride and submission, the man trailed after her, determined to either become a friend, and acquaintance, or heaven forbid an enemy with this person. What he wanted was recognition.

"Rembrandt must be turning in his grave with grief," He began.

"Why?" She enquired with cold elegance.

Enrico's frown split with a smile, "He must be upset, knowing that one of the most distinguished people was born after his time and he was unable to capture her intensity on canvas."

His answer was repaid shortly by silence, then…"Hellsing. Integral Hellsing."

"Ah! Then that explains why the art director would let you enter his building hours after it closed. See, I too am here on the same mission."

Integral crossed her arms, unblinking while drinking in the painting of Da Vinci's 'Last Supper.'

"You must be aware that there is an investigation concerning vampiric history and its traces in the bible, that there is rumor evidence of their ancient existence is actually here in these paintings."

Integral smiled, a sly turn of rose hued lips. "No," She answered curtly. "I am here to celebrate my birthday."

Maxwell blinked, cheeks flushing red as his assumptions proved terribly wrong. He ran one hand through threads of jaw-length hair, silver knots untangled by thin fingers. "Ah. How old?"

"Nineteen."

Integral suddenly turned to face Maxwell, cold eyes lit with something of great possession. Fingers thumbled over the black dots over her trench coat, snapping off buttons with patient rhythm. One foot was placed infront of the other, her walk controlled by pattern and direction. Steady, calculated.

Enrico's brows furrowed with alarm, stepping backwards as he swallowed air.

"You said you are here searching for evidence of vampiric history throughout the bible. Your accent is Latin. Are you Catholic?" Integral's voice was flawlessly monotone, her English accent cutting a dangerous undertone.

"Yes… as you are Protestant…" His eyes flashed with sudden hatred as he spat the word, stepping back too soon and stumbling on a bench plastered to the wall. One hand grabbed the stone edge, steadying himself before his knees bent and he sat down on the cold surface. Maxwell slumped forward, elbows resting on his eyes as he knit his fingers together.

"It disgusts you, doesn't it? Seeing me, a young protestant woman controlling all of Europe, second only to the Queen. Envious? I spit upon you and your Pope, your flawed, sick ways. You sit there conversing, saying so plainly you are investigating evil through the bible. Tell me, Catholic. What is this Euchrist that is so sacred to your faith?"

Maxwell sat there, shocked by the barrage of insults and sick that he was taking this. He lifted those gold bits of El Dorado to reexamine his new enemy, brows lifted and jaw dropped in surprise as she relinquished her shirt and exposed her breasts. The man bit his lip but couldn't look away. The darkness seemed to shift with rage, lights flickering as the madness released.

"The Euchrist… is the body and blood of Christ. Transfiguration. When you take the holy Euchrist into your mouth, it turns into the flesh and blood Jesus sacrificed in the last supper."

"Sick," Integral spat, as she continued to approach, unbuckling her trousers and removing her suspenders from their clasp. "Why do you do that? Why?"

"…Because it promises eternal life in heaven, else we will be damned," Maxwell reluctantly growled, glancing between the tawny flesh of her breasts then back to examine the solid features of her face.

"Tell me, Maxwell. Isn't that the very basis of vampirism? Consuming the host in order to inherit their life?" Integral crossed the floor, her polished shoes clacking against the polished surface of the gallery's floor. She stopped, and began to inch herself closer towards Enrico, invading his personal space as she closed in. One leg arched, the inside of her thigh brushing against the back of one of his hands. "What do you think of me now, Maxwell? What do you think of this subject who escaped Rembrandt's canvas?"

Enrico swallowed, eyes blurred and mind split between his spiritual code of ethics and human instinct. His hands slowly unclasped, the fleshy back of his arm attracted to her leg, fingers twitching with lack of finesse as he experienced temptation.

"What's it like, Maxwell? Being a man raised with men and women dressed like your whore Mary? Do you often scream at night with frustation and pent up sexuality, wondering what life would have been like had you not been sacrificed for God's will? Do you sometimes beg a bastard pretending to be Jesus Christ for forgiveness after touching your genitals in the middle of passionate dreams then stopping yourself before going further? Then cry out for damnation of your soul after experiencing an ill fated erection in the middle of prayer?"

Enrico ground his teeth, gold eyes staring into a blank see of nothing. He then began to snap back a line of insults, staring back into those eyes of solid ice that reflected little but hate for what he was. "What about you, Miss Hellsing? Do you sit there in your little palace with your butler and often think about Daddy dearest? Lay there with your pagan filth, begging for help from a god raised by Satan's creation to help you get through the day let alone the rest of your life? Raised in isolation, forced to stay in isolation, alone for as long as your pagan god deems it. Do you sometimes wake up in the middle of the night screaming the name of your father after your pet vampire sexually molests yo-"

Maxwell's words were cut short as the back of Integral's hand slammed into the flesh of one tender cheek with a distinct SMACK. Growling, the man curtly pressed his hand against Integral's sex, massaging.

She refused to reveal shock from this assault, facing the man with a new layer of loathing as he caressed her intimately.

"How does it feel," Maxwell asked with voice choked in violence and animosity. "Being defiled by a Catholic?"

Integral swallowed, and suddenly pressed further into the touch, one vile hand tickling Maxwell's jawline as she glared down at him. "How does it feel being defiled by a Protestant?"

"Curiously satisfying."

"Ah."

Maxwell's raged fueled his sexuality. He watched her with anticipation as he continued to move his fingers with an unpredictable pattern. Both were uncertain, inexperienced, and features unreflecting of their arousal. Integral stood there, unflinching and glaring down at Maxwell as he continued to massage her inner thigh and flick his thumb against her sex.

"Are you a virgin?" He asked calmly.
"I don't know," Integral replied. "I don't know."
"Have you done this before?"
"..Not with a human."
"Does it feel different?"
"Yes."
"How?"
"It's warmer."
"More pleasant?"
"Yes."
"Did you ever give your consent before?"
"Never."
"You were forced?"
"In a way."
"By your pet?"
"In a way."
"Is this a test?"
"Yes."
"Were they all tests?"
"Yes."
Enrico paused, his stomach turning as his head put together the pieces. "Did you know I was coming?"
"Yes."
"Is this what you wanted?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
Integral became silent as her muscles tightened, biting her tongue as she let the pleasure ride out a little longer, "I have to kill evil. But in order to kill evil, I have to kill my humanity. It is necessary for my duty. I need to overcome the very things that disgust me, I must be little more than what is necessary to kill."
"Did your pet set you up for this?"
"Yes."
"Is he here?"
"Yes."
Enrico paused, his fingers pulsing as Integral's muscles spasmed. She swallowed the pleasure, focusing on him, looking through him, past him, into him, away away away. He was chilled by her reflection. It was eerie, the feelings that erupted with her orgasm. Maxwell suddenly desired her, wanted her, hated her, wanted to crush her. The mixed feelings alarmed him. He hardly knew this woman but her impression ripped apart his sanity.

"Have you passed the test?"
"Yes."

Enrico Maxwell's hand remained there as Integral stepped backward, moving back to retrieve her clothes in silence. Half naked, she moved with grace back towards the picture of Da Vinci's 'Last Supper', standing there and reflecting the masterpiece's use of mute colors weathered by time and decay.

Maxwell only slumped forward as he removed moist gloves from the tender flesh of his hands, combing fingers through his silver hair as his eyes slid oft to the hallway directly to his right. Standing there, composed, was a figure dressed in a red coat and hat, outlined by the moonlight shining through the arched window behind him. He smiled madly, white teeth glittering and red eyes glowing amber. The figure removed himself from the shadows, and Enrico could do little but look back at Integral as she stood there in neutral satisfaction of having defeated her humanity and two men – one who was Catholic and the other who wasn't even human.

"I wanted it so much, to see you removed from humanity. It was something I wanted ever since I met you. I loathed your living flesh."
"I didn't do it because you wanted it. I did it because it was necessary. They say humanity is driven by two instincts – Sex and Power. I aim to have neither."
"No power, Integral? You will never be able to remove yourself from that desire."
"There is a difference between having power over human beings and having power over what isn't human, Alucard."
"Does that same difference exist with sexual instinct?"
"…"
Author's notes: I'm sorry if I offended Catholics. But Hellsing is just a fantasy story written by a cooked up Japanese Guy that I decided to write a fanfic about. So nothing should be taken seriously, and nothing should offend anyone.

Do I think Integral x Enrico is possible? Only as Possible as an Integral x Alucard. See my logic? Integral hates vampires, Integral hates Catholics. So, to be honest, both romances are very uncanon. Me? I like uncanons. As long as they are handled intelligently. And others I just plain dislike out of taste. Some people like AxS, I HATE it. It is sort of like how some people like grape flavored jolly ranchers. I, myself, can't stand the flavor.

I didn't know if Integral knew Enrico previously before their intro in Hellsing manga or the Anime. I didn't really study that aspect. I'm just assuming they did. Hence, the Art Gallery is very symbolic of their relationship.

Oh. Enrico's hair length is different. This just goes to show you how much time has passed since they first met.

I can't think of anything else to say. I hope you liked it.