Disclaimer: See Ch. 1.

Maxwell did not sleep on the flight to Scotland. If the accursed midians could attack Alexander Anderson in Westminster Cathedral, of course they could follow his master onto a plane. He was, of course, stripped of his weapons before boarding the plane, but in some desperate hope of warding off evil, he stayed awake.

Anderson's burial was quick and furtive, and Integra did not attend. Maxwell himself was hardly there; he unconsciously presided over the brief funeral without thinking. The only others in attendance were scattered Iscariot personnel; Anderson, after all, had no family but the scientists that had created him. Maxwell wondered absently then if his conception had been his downfall, but he himself knew nothing of genetics and thought it better not to ask.

When the regenerator was finally at rest, Maxwell and what forces he could gather went to rejoin Integra. She and her two vampire slaves, and the aging butler, were being hidden at the Ireland base with some of her men. She could not return to her mansion until the threat dissipated, and perhaps it would be destroyed before then. He never asked her what she thought of her father's house being demolished, and she never told him; her past was a subject she did not broach with enemies.

And so they waited and watched as Europe fell to shreds. The demon army that had sent Anderson's attacker claimed life after life. Iscariot and Hellsing alike fell to them, entire legions turned to lifeless ghouls. The few men left standing in Hellsing secluded themselves in various countries, and Iscariot retreated into the Vatican, the only place the vampires had not yet breached. Communication was cut between Ireland and Italy, and the only two agents Maxwell knew for certain to be alive were the two he had with him, who for the time being had conceded to act as Hellsing soldiers.

Integra's special agents were more robots than actual people now; perhaps the threat of death had sapped them of personalities. Maxwell never saw the knight sleeping; he supposed she must stay up to speak with Alucard, whom he never saw at all. Seras emerged in the late evening, usually walking aimlessly around the house and only speaking when spoken to. Walter seemed to go about his duties, whatever those may have been under the circumstances, without acknowledging anything.

"Where else is there to go?" Maxwell wondered aloud one day, looking out the window at the grassy landscape. Even now, Ireland was a lovely country.

Integra, who had been sitting and smoking at the table, looked up at him quizzically. "What are you talking about?"

"When they push far west enough to find us. Assuming we survive, where will we go?"

"Alucard will find somewhere to go as he has in earlier centuries. As for those of us who are less immortal..." She turned her icy-blue eyes on him. "I cannot speak for you, Father Maxwell, but Hellsing will not be so cowardly as to survive while our soldiers die to protect us."

"Anderson died of cardiac arrest," Maxwell protested, turning to her. "It had nothing to do with the vampire."

"So he would have died anyway if you had been brave enough to fight your own battle? The vampire came after you. You were armed, Maxwell."

"How dare you suggest I was responsible for my subordinate's death?" He was nearly nose-to-nose with her now, bending over her in the chair. "Do I blame you when one of your soldiers dies? Need I remind you that fully two-thirds of your regiments are now functionally dead from defending you?"

"My men protect England," she replied calmly, standing and pushing him back. "And so do I. Anderson, Maxwell, died protecting you from something you were too spineless to face. You can't absolve yourself of that."

Maxwell stepped backward, still glaring at the woman. "Leave."

"This is my property, Maxwell."

"Leave this room! Leave me alone!" His words came out louder than he had meant, and he startled even himself.

"You're angry at the truth, Maxwell," she muttered as she left. "Only the truth."

Maxwell felt a mad urge to follow her, strangle her as he had wanted to countless times before and prove to her who was spineless. Logic ruled in the end, and he was obliged to take a sleeping pill, retire to his bedroom, and contemplate while falling asleep whether self-preservation was intelligence or cowardice.