Author's note: Please be aware that this whole story line actually takes place after the anime, in a completely different direction to the manga.The events may hint slightly to the FREAK chip infestation, for reasons of continuity, but this is my interpretation on how events unfold post Order 13 in the anime.

The second chapter is a little look into how Anderson reacted to the shock of being whupped by Seras, and just what Enrico thinks about it too. This intended to be quite humorous.

Chapter Two: Facing the Music

Alexander Anderson fumed, and crushed his fists until the knuckles went white. How could this be? He thought to himself, angry and confused, as if he had just looked at his bank balance, expecting to have at least a hundred pounds there, but actually being three hundred over drawn. His face was set in a permanent scowl, and his jaw firmly set in place, grinding his teeth for the rest of the journey back to The Vatican on the Eurostar. How long had it been? Five years? Maybe six? There was no way that she could have become as strong as that in such a time, vampire or not. Her speed was surprising, her accuracy more so, and the skill with the blade – for a vampire to handle a sliver sword and not fall foul of an accidental self-slicing – well, that needed a lot of discipline. And training. Quietly the Paladin cursed himself. He was pretty pissed off that he'd needed to regenerate his arms once again. With a hint of nostalgia, he remembered that the last time he lost those limbs was as result of Alucard.

Smug bloody vampire. Thinking he's such the all-powerful monster, and now he's trained his wee Draculina pet to do his bidding.

How painfully ironic that he should feel the sting of his own bayonet in his neck, just like that little she-vampire did all that time before.

So, he thought, she never did forget about that.

He swallowed, still tasting the blood in the back of his throat, blood which he gargled on while he lay there, under the manic figure of Seras, who taunted him and had dismembered him. Yet, she spared him. He had to chuckle a little at the thought of that. At that moment, there on the rooftop, he had been caught so off-guard as to lose to the little girl, and for a short time, she could have torn him to shreds, or drained him, turned him into a ghoul – he was sure his regenerative technology couldn't even save him from that – but she didn't. Why? He thought to himself, and repeated the question over in his head until it came out as a loud, spoken word which made all the passengers in the carriage look at the blonde haired, dishevelled priest like he was mad. Which was perhaps not entirely untrue. A quick leer in all directions was enough to make them all turn around and feign great interest in the back of the seat in front.

One thing is for certain, this will not happen again. She may have exploited my complacency, but it will be much different when next we meet.

'Father Anderson,' said Enrico Maxwell with a smirk, 'you will never guess who just called.'

'Ahh, shove it up yer bloody tailpipe!' snapped the priest, who had just burst angrily in the room seconds before. He folded his arms and stood sulkily in the corner.

'Sir Integra Hellsing…' continued Maxwell, shrugging off the priest's outburst.

'What 'bout the wench?' shouted Anderson, throwing his jacket at a chair.

'She called, Father. With some rather… embarrassing news, too.'

Anderson rolled his eyes, slammed both his hands on the desk, and looked Enrico square in the face.

'It was that bloody police girl! Ah thought Ah'd do us all a favour and take her doon. Turns oot that in the wee while since last ah met her, she's groon a fair bit stronger…'

'She kicked your ass, didn't she?' smiled Enrico, knowing it would rile the priest.

'What? No! I just got too cocky is all; she was but a wee girlie before. How was Ah to know she'd have gotten te be as fast and skilled as that?'

'So you showed your weakness and got your ass kicked. You should have known better.'

'Ah dinnae want te talk aboot it. Ah mean, de yeh know how long it takes te regenerate me bloody arms? Ahh, it makes me so bloody mad…'

'She cut off your arms?' Maxwell's eyed widened in amusement.

'Whit… yeh mean yeh didnae know that?'

Maxwell chuckled, 'No, all that Sir Hellsing said was her little Seras Victoria sent you home with your tail between your legs – she didn't go into much detail.'

Enrico laughed mockingly, and poked listlessly at the executive desk toy, one of those pin-art thing that everyone thinks is so novel.

'You're a fool, Paladin.' He said bluntly. 'You had no business being in England as it was. I am as eager as you are to rid us all of the disgrace that is the Hellsing Organisation, and those heathen creatures that work for them.' He swept the toy off the desk angrily and stood up sharply, knocking his chair over, 'But that doesn't give you the right to go off on your own and take these creatures on!'

Anderson flinched only a little. But the point was going across.

'Do you think that I want that bitch to go sending her pet vampire, that Alucard creature, to come and breathe down my neck again? Your actions could have caused a serious rift between both our organisations.' Maxwell sat back down and reclined in his chair. 'I have no use for a vigilante who seeks to jeopardise Section XIII, and can't even silence a stupid little girl. I told Integra Hellsing that I would deal with you personally for your wanton act of interference.'

Oh, bollocks, thought Anderson. He may have been a regenerating, mean, heathen-battering son-of-a-bitch, but Maxwell was his boss, the Integra to his Alucard. Maxwell could really make his life a misery if he wanted to. He looked to one side, and relaxed his posture from the desk.

'But,' Maxwell grinned, 'I think, the humiliation of being beaten by a girl is punishment enough, wouldn't you say?' Another mocking laugh.

'Yes, Senor Maxwell,' said Anderson bitterly. He knew that most of Section XIII must have heard of this by now, and they were probably all having a good laugh. Bastards. He turned on his heel and stormed out of the room.

Maxwell rested his chin on his hand and sighed. He tired of this conflict. Damned Protestant cow. He looked sadly at the desk toy, and quickly gathered it back up off the floor. He placed it carefully on the desk and was relieved to find it was not broken. He listened carefully to be sure no one was about to come in, then he pushed his face in to the pins, making a crude impression of his features. He new this was foolish but it was a guilty pleasure when no one was around. The door suddenly burst open again, and he scrambled to hide the toy and pretend to leaf through a dossier. Anderson, still fuming, stormed across the office, grabbed his jacket off the chair, and, without a word, stormed out and slammed the door behind him. Maxwell threw the dossier on the desk and sighed in relief. The door opened again. Anderson peered in.

'By the way,' he began, 'Ah won't tell anyone you were playing with your toys again.'

The door closed on a red-faced Enrico Maxwell.