"Love of justice perverted to revenge and spite"
(Of Wrath, Dante in the Divine Comedy)

Chapter Five
- Ira

It was cold enough to freeze her bones, the icy weather was an unexpected trouble when Integral's plane descended in the international airport of Bucharest. She brought with her four of her men, three mercenaries, and one of the few surviving soldiers who had not been in the headquarters when the Valentine Brothers attacked. Richards, which was his surname, was a strongly built, middle-aged blond soldier who walked always at her right.

With Her Majesty's signed permission, she was able to smuggle her weapons without passing through customs. A relief, Integral did not need further problems to add to her growing list.

"I have been in Romania before," one of the mercenaries, Buttes, told her as they scanned to find the person who would pick them up in a taxi. She had preferred not to hire a limousine; it was too expensive and would attract attention. The driver apparently was a friend of Buttes, a mercenary who had settled down to raise a family and forsaken the profession. "There he is! Alexandru!"

Integral turned to inspect their private chauffer. His aspect, albeit clean, was untidy. His hair was messy and his shirt was half out his black trousers. He was enthusiastically waving a sign with the "Wingates" surname on it in a fine handwriting. As a precaution, Integral almost never divulged her last name, while Alucard had prevented the press capturing an image of her, she was certain they knew her full name. The driver walked towards Buttes, hugged him briefly, and patted his back in greeting.

"So this is your new boss?" Alexandru asked, looking at her. He was speaking in English. "It's a pleasure Miss Wingates," he tipped his brown hat courteously.

"Charmed, Mr. Buttes spoke highly of you. I hope you can live up my expectations."

"I see what I could do," he smiled. "Where are we going, lady? Perhaps to taste some traditional dish? It's nearly night and the trip may make you hungry. Or search a good hotel to register."

"We already dined on the plane and we don't plan to stay long in Bucharest," Integral answered, shaking her head. "Cişmigiu Gardens. Wait for us."

No further questions asked – as with any former mercenary, he knew the rules of the game – Alexandru led them to his vehicle, a yellow Dacia, and accommodated the suitcases in the boot. Integral slid into the passenger seat, while her men had to squeeze into the narrow back.

"Here we are," Alexandru stopped the car in front of the Gheorghe Lazar high school. "At this time of the day, only beggars and thugs frequent the park. And several students who have nothing better to do but risk their skins by trying to skate on the lake."

Clearly not only them, Integral thought, opening the door. "Your advice will be taken in consideration," she said, gesturing to her men to descend and follow her. They all carried revolvers beneath their coats and clips to change to silver bullets. She hoped the vampire population would have not increased in the last century.

"Boss, are you sure of this?" Buttes asked, rubbing his hands as they crossed the street towards the nude trees.

"Positive," Integral stated firmly. "My grandfather's annotations describe this… place as a pretty popular spot for the vampires who chose to live in the city." She omitted the part that stated that the Midians of this zone were grateful that Abraham van Helsing had taken Dracula away and slain the Brides. She was counting on their free collaboration.

"Trust Sir Hellsing," Richards insisted, scowling to his comrade's direction.

Integral placed her hands in her the coat pockets, trying to warm them up from the terrible cold. Minutes passed, several thugs were threatened on their way to the centre of the gardens, where there were several white statues of men displayed. Strangely, not one wielded a weapon and they did not look like warriors. She stopped, and immediately the rest did the same, and surveyed the thugs roaming and the beggars trying to shelter themselves from the winter by curling next to each other under statues. Her tracking stopped on a lone, pale beggar under the most imposing sculpture of the park: a man wrapped in Roman attire holding something akin to a scroll. Beside him, the bodies of two of the drunkards lay, both holding broken bottles and with wounds on their foreheads, their blood stained the white snow.

"Him," Integral gestured, approaching her target. The men were seemingly alive, though their breathing was sparse, it was still there. The beggar's chest, on the other hand, did not move; with his eyes closed, he seemed dead from the cold. His features belonged to a plump man, unlike the slim homeless people, with brown hair and an abundant beard over his chin. "Translate what I say, Buttes," she ordered.

"He seems dead, boss," Buttes pointed out, his foot prodding the thugs who grunted at his action.

"He is dead," Integral said, noticing a dried blood stain on his white lips. Feeding off of them without needing to bite, she assumed, judging by the brawl that took over a few steps from him. It was the perfect disguise. "But he can still speak to a Hellsing."

Suddenly, the beggar opened his eyes, as she guessed they were red. "Van Helsing?" he asked, "Are you one of the hunters?" he asked, in rather fluent English.

Integral merely nodded.

"First the rumours of Dracula's return," the beggar said with a bitter tone, "Now the foreign hunters. I wonder if Bathory is next."

Dracula's return? Integral thought, both enraged and glad to be right on her dear Count's whereabouts. "We haven't come here to hunt you, not if you cooperate," Integral stated, sensing the agitation of her soldiers. They were still very uneasy around an undead that was not Seras. "You'll soon return to rest under this statue if we go now."

"I knew him you know. He was a great man," the beggar pointed out in a nostalgic tone.

"Dracula? My ancestor?" Integral asked, lifting a curious brow.

"No, him." He pointed up to the sculpture he was leaning against. Integral glanced at the scribed name: Mihai Eminescu.

"That's very interesting." Except it was a terrible waste of time in her opinion.

"My own statue is around," the beggar stood, sweeping the snow from his tattered suit. "I am Ion Creanga, at your service Madam van Helsing," he made a low bow and looked at her expectantly. Integral just stared at him blankly and that seemed to disappoint him, for the vampire made no effort to hide his frown. "I wager they don't teach Romanian literature in England."

"About Dracula…" Integral trailed off, changing the subject.

"Oh him. It's sad when our most remarkable national figure in literature was written by someone who isn't from our country," Ion snapped, twirling his facial hair, attempting to shake the snow out of it. "The rumour has it he's back. I just heard this recently but news sometimes doesn't travel as fast as the dead," he explained with a twinge of dark humour.

"He's in one of his castles, I suppose. Which one?"

"The less popular one, at least among the living, the secret shelter in Prundu Bârgaului," Ion replied, confirming her doubts. The trip through Borgo Pass, a hidden fortress deep in the Carpathians. "Some of the old Midians in the countryside has fled to the city recently. They are terrified to face an even more powerful Dracula for hunting territory."

"I have read the honourable hunting party's journals. However, I will still need a guide in case we lose ourselves in some trickery on the path," Integral said. "We are very insistent."

Ion barked a loud laughter, several heads turned to glance at their direction, they lost interest soon and returned to inebriating themselves or rest. "He was before my time, by two years but I did visit his hideout out of literary curiosity decades ago," he chuckled. "There's no need for threats, Madame van Helsing. I will play the role of old mentor among four brave young men and a courageous lady in search of the vile beast."

"Literary interest, by any chance?" Integral inquired and was replied just with a mischievous glimmer in his eyes. "Let's leave then. We'd better not waste more time."

"What about them, Sir Hellsing?" Niles Richards asked, shooting a glance to the injured thugs in the snow.

"Tsk, leave them be, Madam van Helsing," Ion suggested, lowering his eyelids. "Those wounds aren't lethal, they will probably have caught a pneumonia in the morning and not bother us for a while."

"So you sell your protection for blood, leech?" Buttes asked, scratching his chin. "And the thugs are just stupid to not realize someone is licking their peers' wounds?"

Ion smirked and gave a shrug, "They are drunk most of the time and blame the extra bottles playing games in their minds." He turned around, heading to the pile of beggars. "I will have to speak with them, telling I am going to a quick trip."

"You truly care for their acceptance?" Integral wondered aloud, unable to contain herself.

"They are better than foppish snobs in high circles," Ion paused to tell her. "Besides, I need to assign someone to take over the reading of Paradise Lost while I am away." Integral looked incredulous at that response. "Don't be surprised, Madam van Helsing, I enjoy intelligent conversations with humble people, that is why I cultivate their minds."

"Don't take too long," Integral pointed out, staying on alert to see that the Midian did not set a trap for them. Because a vampire with a social conscience was too good to believe it was true.

----

"It's cold."

Of course it is, Judas Priest. We are in the Carpathians in winter.

Anderson scowled at the condescending tone Dracula employed with him. They had arrived, or rather Dracula had dragged him to his secret lair in Romania, packing the last domain with him. The castle was empty and quite filled with dust and vermin. Not even after a century, had other Midians dared to inhabitant it for fear of the devil's return. He was not aware that Dracula continued to be a ruler but not of Wallachia, but the undead from the zone he was in.

"Why are we here?" Anderson asked, sitting still in the head chair of the big feast table. He did not wish to leave England, especially when his control over his body was slipping further and further. He wondered how no one ever noticed a huge castle on the top of the mountains; it was not part of the tourist guides to the Dracula 'experience' so popular in Romania.

Humans ignore their fears, living in denial until they are gone. How else did Millennium hide all those Zeppelins and soldiers without being noticed? Anderson disliked his reasoning but conceded the point. Integral expects to find me here. Therefore here I am.

Anderson snorted, not buying his sudden generosity. "I don't believe you. We haven't touched the castle, cleaned or removed the spider webs to give her any clue of our existence. We are just… here."

Romania is dangerous. My kind is older and with my presence around, her safety is assured. But you made a good point, Judas, Dracula commented with a fiendish tone. Maybe we should sweep around with a broom and leave her a note. Even greeting her, would you like that?

Anderson's sluggishness shifted into stiffness. He touched the long strands of his darkening hair and flinched. He could picture her horrified expression, eyes widened in fright at the sight of his hybrid form. "No…" he trailed off weakly.

Ah, beloved Nemesis, you cannot avoid what will happen, you are just slowing it.

Anderson shut his eyes when he felt Dracula starting to take over; he recalled Seras more vividly now and in a less turbulent perspective. His memories quickly took over the sense of present reality; he was there again – in that wretched dungeon. Seras was pressed to the wall, shaking uncontrollably, her red eyes as wide as plates.

"Oh God, I swear I didn't want to! He took control of me! Please, believe me!" she started to babble. But he did not listen, she was a witness, she was looking at him as his body became more like his nemesis. "I-I…" Draculina was in utter shock and about to break down in tears. He was angry, in pain and wanted her to suffer, wanted the spawn to be in hell where she belonged, thus he struck in spite, to make her pay.

But she was innocent, Dracula added smoothly, Otherwise why do you feel so repulsed by yourself? Looking for excuses for executing a vampire?

Anderson hit the table with his fist, nearly breaking it. "Shut up! As you said, it was a vampire execution! It has nothing of special!" he shouted, but his words were shallow.

Perhaps. But as a judge, did you carry out the proper sentence for the crime you claim?

Anderson froze. It was like the weather had affected his soul in a mysterious way. He could not correctly remember why he had killed Seras Victoria, the reason why he was fighting to avoid someone else falling into Dracula's grasp. "I…"

Integral will be arriving in a few days. Should I greet her or do you want to do the honours?

Anderson imagined Integral's face contorting in dread at his shifting features and shook his head. He rose from the table, walking towards the last domain to rest and forget about the problems, they only made him more violent. Upon entering, Alexander Anderson lowered the lid and concealed the location of his casket with shadows.

----

The search had been unsuccessful, the castle was apparently completely empty. Integral was not in the best of her moods upon returning from the castle, persecuted by wolves and in the middle of a blizzard. She sneezed and felt her temperature rise. Bloody hell, she thought, searching a box of cigarettes in her pants and still attempting to shake the snow out her long hair. Her quest had been not only a waste of money and time but also of her body's defences.

"Hmm, perhaps he moved to Bran?" Ion proposed, glancing at the map of Romania, sitting across from her on the table. The rest of her men were standing, gathered for new plans in her inn room.

"There's no records of scared tourists being haunted and impaled by him," Integral retorted dryly, her voice was raspy and her throat felt sore.

"Boss," Buttes called her, "Your cell phone has signal once more. Thought you may want to call home to say we will take a bit longer to return."

Integral nodded and stood, unplugging the phone. The mountains and the blizzard had made any of their communicators useless. Apparently, there was some strange magnetic wave that affected all technology; one that had kept the castle location hidden from most machines for a long time. She did not dwell on the cause, perhaps a natural flaw that Dracula took advantage of through a mere stroke of luck.

"Yes," she sounded nasal, dialling up her Manor number. "That's a good idea." She waited for a while to be attended to, but no one answered her call. Annoyed, she tried individual numbers from her high-ranked staff's personal phones but only the company computer replied, stating they were no longer customers of the agency.

Agitated, Integral paused to think whom to call. Islands, she mused and dialled his number quickly.

"Sir Hellsing!" Sir Islands picked up and exclaimed urgently. He had tracked her number, it seemed. "Where are you Integral! I tried to communicate…"

"We just arrived from our visit to the Carpathians," Integral replied, her tone was jaded by the false presumptions that had led them on a doomed quest. "We found nothing. Why is no one answering when I call my mansion? I recall having paid the telephone tax on time," she added, irritated.

"Integral…" he paused before adding, saddened, "The Hellsing Organisation was burned down. Only the basement was saved from complete destruction."

Integral blinked, dumbfounded by what Islands had just told her. Burned down, her home, her legacy, her pride. "What happened?" she asked, demanding to know. She would destroy whoever did that.

"Vampire attack. We don't know the specifics, but it was a group of six who apparently sought to make themselves No Life Kings by destroying Hellsing… I don't know how they passed the defences…"

Integral felt her heart sunk to her stomach. Because the defences were inoperative, because I put the money into this pointless chase!

"Boss?" Buttes asked concerned.

"Madam van Helsing?" Ion inquired as well, "You look as pale as the snow."

Integral paid no heed to their concern, her hand trembled, apprehension shot through her system as well as dread. "What about my people?"

"There were no survivors, Integral. If there were ghouls or any still alive, all was burned with the fire," Islands stated, "I am so sorry. Her Majesty wishes your return as soon as I deliver you this message. Be careful. Farewell."

He hung up and Integral collapsed to her knees, her legs no longer supported her. She gritted her teeth to taste her pain, but she could not fall in pointless remorse. She would be ineffectual like that. Something was burning inside her soul, her mind, her body, chasing away the cold; it was the fire that incinerated her home and her people. It was consuming her as well with the need to kill.

"Sir Hellsing?" Richards asked, approaching her slowly. "Did something happen?"

Integral stared at him, glassily and coldly, no indication of the fire that had been ignited by Islands' words. "Nothing that wilful genocide can't take care of," she replied, monotone as she stood and straightened her suit. She pulled her revolver out of the holster and fired twice at Ion Creanga's direction. He was too stunned by her sudden change of moods to dodge the bullets shot accurately to his heart and brain. Not even the sight of his fading cadaver contented the fire; her anger was still unquenched.

"Buttes, take one of your men and get the rid of the body," Integral ordered, turning to her surprised troops. "Richards, check if someone heard the gunshots. And whoever stays, will help me to clean this mess. We depart at once for London," she informed them, her lips twisting in a smirk. "And we will leave a mattress of Midian corpses behind."

The scum would pay for their cowardice, for wronging her. She would not stop until her wrath was satisfied or they were all dead. Hellsing would open the gates to their damnation without her supernatural followers.