My thanks to Linoge for the review. Glad to know you like it. I'll admit that Chapter 1 ended up a little... bulky. I wanted to slip background details in between chunks of story to keep things from getting too boring. And I kinda liked the idea of taking my time in identifying anyone by name.

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Matthew walked through the dark halls of Hellsing's basement… dungeon… After three years he still didn't know what to call it, but either name would suffice. In these dark, markless, stone halls it was easy to get lost, but Matthew's memory was more than up to the task. He slowly made his way to the heavy metal door leading to his room. Pressing his weight against it, the door swung inward allowing him entry.

He looked around the room after pushing the door shut. He'd managed to grab a few bits of décor for his room over the years. To one side was the bed. It was a standard flat bed rather than a 'four poster coffin' with lid held above by four poles. The idea of being shut inside a box every night had freaked him out when he'd first arrived, so he'd opted for a bed. Along the back wall was a desk on which sat his computer. It was on, its screensaver displaying a series of pictures from the series Babylon 5. On the far side of the room was a dresser. Sitting on it was a series of cylindrical objects. They were brass cartridges. Matthew had a strange habit: he collected the cartridges fired from certain guns which carried some special significance; either the gun itself, the person, or the circumstance. He had one from a fifty-caliber sniper rifle he'd fired about a week after arriving, the first cartridge in his new collection. Along with that were a couple pieces of brass from his pistols, a piece of rifle brass and a shotgun shell from his assault rifle called the Spitfire, and a larger three inch diameter shell from his cannon, the Valkyrie. He'd also snatched a shell from Seras's cannon, the Harkonnen, and a couple cartridges from Alucard's guns, a modified Casull called Joshua and a custom pistol called the Jackal. 'Certainly one of my more impressive collections,' he thought.

He didn't know why he still collected gun brass. Maybe another attempt to hold on to his past? Maybe trying to bridge the gap between who he'd been before and who he was then? He didn't worry about it. In the end, he found it fun to look at each piece of brass and remember when he'd grabbed it and who had fired it.

He looked to the table sitting in the middle of the room. It had a couple chairs around it. What caught his attention was what was sitting on it: a bucket of ice. He knew what else sat inside: a bag of blood. He started over to it. After the night he'd just had, he needed it.

Matthew and Seras used to drink their daily blood together finding it easier to manage with company. Over time, though, Seras grew past that, better adjusting to vampirism. So, Matthew went back to drinking alone. He'd found ways to deal with it as time went on. He no longer thought of blood as a needed sustenance but as a medicine he needed to take. While he had never been very good a drinking something he hated, but taking bad medicine was something he'd gotten good at at an early age. As he grabbed the bag of blood, he thanked Robitussin and Dimetapp for their horrible 'cherry' and 'grape' flavors. He bit off the bag's drain tube, turned the bag to the ceiling, and without a thought or a shudder drank it down as if it were a pouch drink. After draining the bag, he tossed it back in the bucket. 'Besides,' he thought, 'compared to those, blood tastes good.' He paused, then shuddered. "Just had to think that, didn't you Matt?" he said to himself.

He sat in a nearby chair and let his thoughts drift a moment. He debriefing had been… well… brief. It had been a mostly typical mission with no losses. Intelligence had gotten both the symbol and a description of the master from him and Seras, and there was little more to do than sit and wait for something to happen. Though it had been a long night, Matthew wasn't ready to try and sleep. He looked at the computer. No, he didn't feel like looking at e-mail. His eyes glanced at his watch. It was late, but there would still be a few people at the shooting range. He nodded at his thought, standing. 'Shooting at paper might be fun.' It used to be that the only thing he considered a target was something made of paper…

He took off his jacket and tossed it on a nearby chair. Since he was still in the base, he wouldn't need to wear it. Besides, it felt cool in the halls outside his room. He liked cool weather. He pulled the door open and quietly shut it behind him, reentering the dark, gloomy halls of the dungeon. It was a short walk to the facility's shooting range, and his enhanced hearing could detect the sounds of gunfire. He didn't need any hearing protection. Any damage to his ears would regenerate quickly. Opening the door, Matthew entered the familiar Hellsing shooting range. Three soldiers practiced shooting at paper targets with a human silhouette on them, muzzle flashes momentarily lighting up the lanes. Matthew walked to a locker he'd commandeered for some of his things and opened it. From inside he grabbed a couple of targets, a single revolver, and a box of ammunition.

Matthew had had a bank account back in the States that his father had kept alive, switching to a checking account and getting Matthew a debit card. Every so often, his father would dump some money into the account, letting Matthew get anything he needed. Hellsing didn't exactly pay him anything probably figuring that room, board, and not killing him was sufficient payment for his services. Using this money after letting the price drop, Matthew had bought a Smith & Wesson 500 fifty caliber revolver. He'd fired one once early in his short lived college career when a local sporting good store had one for trial and had enjoyed shooting it even then when its recoil was substantial to him. He couldn't exactly ask Walter to provide one as it wouldn't have been very practical. Its bullets had to be loaded one at a time. However, nothing stopped him from buying one of his own to use in his free time.

He chose an empty lane and flipped the switch bringing the target to him. He unclipped the silhouette target from its mounts and replaced it with one of his own, a simple bulls-eye target. Sending it back to the far end of the lane, he flipped open the revolver's cylinder and slid five rounds into it. Pressing it closed and setting the cylinder, he brought the gun up in a two handed grip and thumbed back the hammer. Matthew took aim at the center of the target and slowly started to squeeze the trigger.

"It amazes me sometimes…"

The voice, originating from right next to his right ear, startled Matthew. His aim jerked up, the gun firing. No holes appeared in the target. A clean miss. Matthew looked with annoyance at the speaker: Alucard. Over the years, his conversations with Alucard were more frequent than never but were still rare. He set the revolver on the table. "What amazes you, Alucard?"

Alucard, taller than Matthew, wearing his standard red trench coat and wide brimmed red hat, stared at him with yellow sunglasses. The lenses caught the light and seemed to glow. He had his classic smirk on his lips. "How you seem to always try to escape what you are. What you've become. It's almost amusing."

Matthew sighed and grabbed up the revolver. "Not exactly escaping," he said, aiming and thumbing back the hammer. "More like taking a vacation from reality." He fired, and a hole appeared in the target's center. "What brings you here, anyway? You're not the type for simple small talk." He fired again.

Alucard slowly chuckled. "Indeed. We're about to enter a time I will find… fun."

Matthew sighed, setting the revolver down again. He knew what that meant. Trouble would arrive soon, as if that night's mission hadn't already suggested that. "And you're telling me this why?"

"Why not? Besides, Sir Integra hasn't jumped in years and the Police Girl can sense me too easily. You're the only one I can still startle."

He shook his head, rolling his red eyes upward. He took up the revolver again and prepared for the next shot. In slight appreciation, he said, "Thanks for the info Alucard. I'll keep it in mind." He sensed Alucard vanish.

'A time Alucard will find fun,' Matthew repeated in his mind. Alucard had identified times he would find fun twice before. First was soon after Matthew's joining Hellsing in the battles against another ancient master vampire named Shalrik. Second was right before a trio of vampires started forming a rather large army of undead in a remote part of Europe. Both had resulted in many difficult missions and the loss of many good soldiers. 'And Alucard finds that fun… I hope that my being turned by Seras and her being turned by Alucard doesn't make me 'related' to him.'

He held his aim another moment, then sighed and lowered the revolver. Suddenly he didn't feel like shooting anymore. He opened the cylinder and knocked out the cartridges, stuffing the unfired bullets back into the box and the empty brass in his pocket. He closed the cylinder and looked at the gun. After a moment, he muttered, "I'll clean you tomorrow." Sliding it back in its case, he flipped the switch bringing the target forward and took the revolver and ammunition back to the locker. When he got back, he took the target from the mounts, folded it twice, and stuffed it in a pocket. He hung the silhouette target on the mounts, hit the switch to send it back, and left the range.

A few minutes later he climbed the stairs into the main part of the facility. The upper floors gave an impression more like a mansion, even darkened as it was then. There was no activity that night. It was late, probably after midnight. Most sane people were in bed asleep. Well… most sane humans at any rate. Matthew walked to the back of the mansion and opened one side of the double doors quietly slipping out into the dark back courtyard. Over the years, he'd come out here at night to think now and then when the stone walls of his room did nothing to comfort him. Clear of the mansion, he looked up at the stars. He knew it was too early in the year to see the constellation Orion, but a view northward showed that the Big Dipper was out. It was difficult to see; the lights of London made that inevitable. 'Maybe I should go cause a blackout?'

Before he could try his plan, his thoughts were interrupted by a voice, "So, I take it he told you."

Matthew looked over. Seras approached him from the mansion. She'd probably picked up his thoughts and had come to help him. She'd always been there for him. "Yeah, he told me." He sighed and looked to the sky again. "Decided to make me jump halfway to the ceiling, but he told me. What is it with him and finding times of heavy combat fun?"

Seras shrugged. "I don't know, Matthew. I'm just glad he's always up for it."

Matthew gave a 'hmph'. "I suppose so."

After a moment of silence, Seras spoke again. "What else is wrong?"

He almost chuckled. "Nothing I want to talk about right now." He gave a look to the sky, seeing just how far the moon had gone. "Wow… It's really late." He rubbed his eyes. "I'm gonna hit the sack. G'night."

"Good night."

Matthew started for the door. Seras knew not to pry, but she'd guessed it right. Whenever Alucard said he would find something fun or when it looked like vampire and ghoul activity would increase, Matthew always started worrying about his family. True they were all back in the states, but there was always the chance that one of their targets might get over there. 'Might be a miniscule chance, but it's enough to worry in my opinion.'

After another walk through the dark corridors of Hellsing's dungeon, Matthew reentered his room. Not bothering to change clothes, he simply pulled off his shoes and socks, turned off the light, and flopped onto the bed. After a few minutes staring at the ceiling, he drifted to sleep…

Matthew found himself in the middle of a forest war zone, the air filled with dust and the rapid staccato of automatic weapons fire. He had an M-16 assault rifle in his hands. He looked around, nearly spinning in place, but couldn't see any allies. "Seras!" he called out. "Where are you?" He heard movement behind him. Bringing his rifle to bear, he spun around. Three people in black uniforms bearing the symbol he and Seras had found shuffled towards him. Matthew didn't hesitate. He brought up the rifle and opened fire.

The trio were riddled with bullets, but refused to fall. They kept coming, no matter how many bullets Matthew put into them. The rifle clicked; out of ammo. He searched in vain for another magazine. Suddenly, three swords with handle like grips flew over his shoulders, taking the three in their heads. They dropped in piles of ash. Matthew turned around to see who had just saved him, and found himself looking into the insane green eyes of Paladin Alexander Anderson. He had an insane smile, the sort a predator gives as he strikes his prey. "I shall strike you down with my holy blades, foul demon." He charged, a sword held high in each hand. Matthew tried to run, but he was frozen in place.

"Prepare for eternal damnation, vampire!" Anderson brought his swords down in swooping arcs. Matthew could feel their edges pressing into the flesh of his neck…

…and awoke. He sat up quickly, gasping. His enhanced vision cut through the darkness and told him he was still in his room. He brought his hands up to his neck. It was in one piece, but he could still feel where Anderson's blades had touched.

He fell back against the bed. What did this dream mean? Usually when he had a dream there was some sort of meaning. He sighed and rolled over. He would worry about it later. Right then, he just really needed sleep.