It all seemed to happen in a flash. A streak of red had passed into Alexander Anderson's peripheral vision, causing him to turn sharply, to see what it was that had drawn his attention, and be on guard for any prospective lone attacks. But he had turned too late. His eyes widened and his arm lunged forwards sharply to catch the descending body.
What he had been faced with was a look of terror in the eyes of the usually seemingly enigmatic Integra Hellsing. His heart had lunged as her pupils had dilated and blood had spilled from her mouth. Her blonde hair, though matted due to the current rapid downfall of precipitation, nevertheless fell almost gracefully over her face as she descended into oblivion.
"Hellsing, Hellsing!" he shouted. He gently smoothed the blood covering her chin with his free hand and cupped her jaw. He was jolted sharply by a loud, piercing cry as Seras Victoria came running towards him with a look of pure horror written across her face.
"Integra! Integra! Is she-"
He cut her off sharply. "Call an ambulance, quickly!" He didn't want to waste any time if she was still alive, although raising two fingers to her neck, he felt no pulse, which was a grave concern. After a moment's hesitation, Seras broke into a run, as Anderson carefully laid Integra's body down on the damp grass and removed her blazer, should the heavy material be restricting the circulation to her arms. In a furtive movement he tore her stained white shirt across the middle so that her naked flesh spare her bra was exposed and began to press it against the wound to her stomach. He watched as the material quickly absorbed the deep, dark red as blood rapidly gushed from her injury. It was bad, he couldn't afford to waste any time at all.
He began quickly then to proceed with CPR in an attempt to resuscitate her, even though a part of him wanted to accept that she had gone in peace and left this dangerous world behind. Though he expected Hellsing had would have preferred to die like a martyr, and a death like this was especially unfitting to her character.
She was strong, and part of him believed that she was still fighting an inner battle for her life. She had a vocation to Hellsing and the Queen, and it was unlikely that she was going to let death stand in the way. Unlikely, but gradually becoming to look highly possible. He continued pressing upon her chest, hoping to provoke some response in her limp body. Though she still lay motionless like a limp doll.
He gently cupped the side of her face with one hand and lightly pinched her nose with the other. After a brief moment's hesitation, he brought his lips down over her own and exhaled deeply, forcing air into her lungs. He then returned to pressing upon her chest, and checked occasionally for a pulse.
There was no response.
"Come on!" he yelled sharply and held back the tears he was surprised to find springing to his eyes. Again he placed his lips over her own and with more vigour, forced air into her lungs, almost pounding her chest as he continued with CPR. It was appearing more and more hopeless, but he was reluctant to stop.
As he looked on at her, usually so powerful and valiant, now laying completely still, without any sign of life, he became increasingly bitter – though not towards her. His anger, his frustration, his utter distaste, was in the absence of the Nosferatu, the great and mighty Alucard. Whilst all of this had taken place he had been nowhere in sight, not even in the presence of a shadow, in the dark, drizzly night. As Anderson removed his lips from Integra's once more inhaling he cursed loudly into the open air, "You were meant to be protecting her fiend, why didn't you? Show yourself! Where are you now, hellhound!"
With a vigorous movement that was unintended, Anderson pounded Integra's chest, and he sprung back in shock as her eyes immediately rolled opened and she started gasping for breath. He became speechless, watching her with bewilderment as she rolled over and began to retch and cough, her harsh deep tones familiar to him as evidence of the many years she had spent smoking cigars. Her face was very pale, though she was alive – thank the Lord – she was alive.
He carefully approached her as she struggled in her weak state to free her throat. There was no longer anything suppressing her injury, and so he gently placed an arm under her torso in order to prevent the rapid spilling of her blood, his other arm over her shoulder, and lent her some of the warmth from his body until the ambulance was to arrive. As she continued to cough, he soothed her by gently stating, "You're going to be alright, just hold on…Integra…"
