Author's Notes: I realize that I have been remiss in giving my readers an insight into this fractured mess of ordered chaos that I call my ground state of existence. My sincerest apologies, followed with this simple fact: I am going to be making Alucard into a being that I think most befits his character shown both in the manga, the anime and in the actions of the historical being known simply as "The Impaler." Some of you will no doubt be displeased with either Alucard's actions, thoughts or the things he says or the manner in which he says them. But please remember, this is simply the way that I view him and that the way I view him is the way I will write him. The excuses and bull-shitting made, let's get on with the story shall we?

Disclaimer: I hate writing this thing and I still don't own anyone of anything.

Credits: Something new, for the credit for this chapter rests solely in BigW's most capable arms. Or hands. Or fingers, him being a writer and all. Thank him for giving me the inspiration for writing this beast by sending a few favorable reviews his way, alright?

Memoirs of Hate

Insight to a Splintered Mind

Alucard's Good Mood

Seras Panics

A New Entry

The Price of Curiosity

Alucard was in a good mood. For an undead, even a king, this was an event that is, historically, heralded by meteors and the fall of kingdoms. When one is dead, one sees emotions and feelings as relics of one's past life. Or past existence, though the difference between the two was a trifling that the Lord of Transylvania and Unholy King didn't concern himself with. No, he and his mind, which can often be two separate entities, were concerned with the intruder into the warded vault that Alucard had crafted some years ago. Crafted using the charm and authority that only centuries of practice can generate. Crafted using the sweat and toil and even blood of those who had dared to imprison him. But the past is past and though it may be argued that undead, even sentient ones like vampires, are only capable of existing in the past, Alucard was most definitely looking forward for the encounter with the, rather, his intruder. For this intruder had entered into a lair that was as sacred as it could get being in the ownership of a vampire. And having interfered with an object that was as treasured to Alucard as his Jackal and Casull, one could almost count the intruder's heartbeats in Alucard's measured strides. Or perhaps the spaces between would be more appropriate. But this was not to be. Alucard was in a good mood. Not enraged or hungry. He wasn't after blood, though unless Seras Victoria came up with an excellent excuse as to her presence in a place that had, in effect, screamed "Do Not Enter" through its wards, well, she was dead, and his child after all. He would have to be inventive with a punishment. Unless she escaped. He smiled.

There are many types of smiles. The one given by Alucard is one that is only given by a rabid dog that has just cornered a small defenseless child or a religious fanatic that has a bomb strapped to his chest and has just received news of an infidel's approach. It was a smile that did not relish the act of killing. It relished the opportunity of killing. That said, it was a smile that many a fool had seen behind the hand holding the Jackal.

Seras Victoria was in a fine state. She was an alchemical mixture of dread, exhilaration, panic and worry. Dread at the sound of her master's footsteps. Exhilaration at being forced to think of a fast exit. Panic at being caught. Worry at the knowledge that fast exits were out of the question because panic, exhilaration and dread had made her forget how to exit the room in her gaseous form. But first things first: leave the scene of the crime in the state she had found it. She closed the book and found her mind slipping into what two years of special force police training had taught her: police mode. Assess the exits. That was easy, there was only one, it was locked tight, and the only one with the key would possibly kill her if he caught her here. Prepare for the use of force. She didn't have her Halconnen, not that the bloody huge thing would fit in this room anyway. And just how would she use it? Shoot her master? All that would do is insult him. And even if she did succeed in wounding him, she would barely have enough time to turn around before his Casull pierced her lung. Again. If she survived that, then she would most definitely be banished by Lord Hellsing.

By the time these thoughts were ricocheting through her mind, her master's footstep were so ominously close to the door that her mind had supplied, along with many unwanted scenarios of her death, a soundtrack that had a lot of organ music that was slowly building to a climax that, she was sure, ended with on the sound of a bullet being fired. So she flushed all the unwanted emotions and focused solely on panic. Panic which drove her to do what humans, alive, dead or otherwise, do best: she took a longshot, bet it all, and hoped the card she was holding was the ace of spades. She assumed gaseous form and fled for the back wall.

When one is feeling good, one does not wish for this feeling to leave. But let's leave the human emotions behind. Alucard, staring at the door which held an object that might be considered to be humanity's greatest weapon against him, was amused. He had clearly felt the police girl's departure from this sanctum where he kept his memories. And as he absent-mindedly traced her flight from the room his thoughts turned to the situation he faced.

'A troublesome, meddling girl she is, but I can do naught but admire her for her determination in finding a way around my wards. Though she did lose her composure in these last few moments. Haaah, something to cure her of. Another in a long line of 'somethings'. If it isn't her insistence on remaining at least nominally human, then it is her unrelenting inability to see just what she is and to act accordingly. Of course she must be disciplined. What shall I do to her? Curiosity may have killed the cat, but she is already dead. This is beginning to sound like a play. Prelude: The Police Girl discovers a new strength. Act 1: A Hidden Treasure, Act 2: The Master Approaches. And Act 3? Perhaps that shall be called "Banishment."'

Alucard frowned. None of the wards had been altered. He was, of course, still considering the door. Nor was there any sign of force, not that there could be in the first place. The door was old oak taken from a church in Scotland and it's blessing still held. And besides, it was several inches thick. The alternating iron bands and silver rivets which bond the door to the walls surrounding it were, respectively, two inches thick and the size of a child's fist. The actual wards themselves were scrawling whorls of geometric shapes and ancient runes; burning the wood black and staining the metal red. Everything was in place and unaltered, there was no other door so...?

But of course. He was being foolish. This was after all, his old cell and there were many vents both inside and outside of it. The one's inside had been sealed though there was no doubt that, in his mind, a vampire having taken the form of gas could find a way in. There would be cracks of course. There were always cracks. Which is why he had drained the room of its oxygen so that even if someone were to get by the warded door, to open the door would result in the vacuumed room sucking in any matter so violently that the room itself and the surrounding walls and two floors above would come crashing down. The inside of the room had been laid with spells that would slay any living being that walked its floors. Alucard had never thought to ward it against undead though. Any vampire that came into the Hellsing manor would be dispatched quickly and remorselessly and ghouls were far to stupid to achieve the feats of magic that it would take to dispel the wardings. It had simply never occurred to Alucard that he might make for himself a daughter and that his daughter would be accepted as a vampire hunter in the service of the Hellsing Agency.

Alucard reformed in the room, inside the wards of his own making, unaffected by those that resided in the room proper. He looked at the book. His book. The vault that contained every instance that had happened to him ever since his identity, and thus his power, had been stolen from him. It was true that he enjoyed his lifestyle now, limited though he was, but on the other hand he could kill as much as he pleased so long as what died wasn't human. Or so long as it died with its consent. His life, as such, was good. Free food, no mobs with stakes, strands of garlic and babbling priests, the chance to stay out of the sun and bathe in the moon's embrace. And yet he had kept something of himself for himself, away from his master and away from those who would control him. He had lost his name, but he had not lost himself.

Perhaps..? Yes, it was indeed time to shake the little police girl up. Time for her to acknowledge her heritage and to accept the power that was rightly hers.

Alucard opened his book of memories, turned to the last page and made an entry.