Alright, this is my super kick butt hellsing story. I just started it, so dont expect me to add every day. It will end in time, but for now just read. I also have a Read Or Die fanfic if anyone is interest...

SJC, contact me...

Raziel: The Being Without Origin

I am a vampire.

I don't know who I am. Really, I don't.

Raziel. My name is Raziel, I suppose. Well, maybe, I am unsure.

As for my origin…there is none that I know of, save for a few fragmented memories. I have only recently come to know my name, actually, and the small amount of visions of my past that I have been granted.

But that is actually why I am here. I am here to tell the story to this point of exactly how I became aware of the world around me and all of its technological glories, the amazing wonders that this age has shown me; and that time had passed lifetimes from my own birth. It was through the meeting of a certain individual that I was taken from my thoughtless wanderings, through the distant rainforests, the continuously changing cities, the freezing mountain ranges, and even the very depths of the sea. I have been possibly everywhere, though I cannot say for sure that that is true. I only know that I am now aware of the spinning world around me.

But I need to start from exactly how this came to be.

To begin, a description of myself should be given. I am of average height, five feet and nine inches to be exact. My skin is pale, though as I have learned through my newly attained memories, it was once tanned. I have brown hair that's cut short, but it does grow back every few years to its original length, down to the small of my back, though it stops there and doesn't go beyond that point. My eyes are red, demonic eyes, and my smile has two large fangs within it.

As for my attire…well, I found myself in literal rags, a large cloth wrapped around my body, my brown hair tangled so horribly that I had to cut it all of, my limbs covered in filth and rot. Now, though, I wear clothing that is a bit more modern, a long white trench coat, a gray button up shirt made of some very delicate fabric, and pair of black pants made of the similar cloth. Though, to tell the truth, I rather dislike these clothes, the only reason I wear them is to not to draw suspicion.

If I want attention, I know how to get it.

All I need to do is summon my nosforatu black magic, usually taking the color of a white glow, my powers running wildly all around. There is no shape, however, that I assimilate my powers to. I simply let it flow free. As for weapons, I wield a small dagger that seems to be very old, ancient even, with a gold hilt that has Egyptian hieroglyphics inscribed on it, the words reading "True Power", and a silver blade that seems to be rusted, but becomes an almost blue-silver color when I infuse my powers into it.

And when I do channel my energy through my dagger the results are quite devastating. I have memories of an entire pyramid laid to waste by my dagger and the energy that surges through it, the remains becoming tiny grains of sand and thus spreading into the winds. There once too was a magnificent city, seeming to be alien from the caveman lifestyle the world lead, its image filled with technology well beyond the glories that I have seen in this modern age. I believe that it was Atlantis, and I envision a burst of energy shooting out of the end of my dagger, the city becomes nothing, a simple pile of ash.

But those are obscured memories, for all I know, they are just fragments of imagination, and nothing more.

And there is one other possession that I have constantly at my side. It is a pendant made of red ruby with a golden crescent shaped moon wrapped around one of the sides. I always have it tied to a necklace and wrapped around my neck. For some reason, this pendant holds some value, though I don't know why. At this point I cannot say.

It was several months ago that I found myself like this. It was raining, and I was wandering the endless streets of some city in whatever this country is. I know that must be frustrating to comprehend, but I do not know at this point what country I am in exactly, only that I am in a land with the government of a Monarchy, a Queen ruling as the highest power.

But the streets were glorious, the nighttime lights painting split second canvases across my face and the rags I wore, the cobblestone streets pushing against my bare feet. The wind was calm on that night, winds blowing at my side, showing autumn's true face.

I heard a noise, a gunshot. Quite loud, actually, sounding too powerful to be a handgun. I stood dazed for a moment, curious as to what it was that just happened, but my interest was not too great for as soon as the shot drew my attention, I was already leaving the spot, my feet dragging on the stone path.

Another noise, loud, obnoxious, getting closer and louder. Police sirens it seemed, though as the vehicle owning the sirens drove up behind me I saw that it was no police car, it was too large to possibly be a civilian automobile. No, it seemed more like a modern military vehicle, about a dozen men and a single woman who's presence drew my attention jumping out of the beastly machine.

The woman stopped, sensing my vampiric presence, and turned to me. Realizing that she knew I was there I quickly used my black magic to make myself invisible to her. She obviously wasn't one of the true nosforatu, for she seemed to have dismissed my being there and ran into the building across from where I stood.

No, she was no nosforatu, but she was a vampire, I could sense that in her, and see it in her red eyes. From the short view I saw of her face, she was indeed a vixen of a young vampire, with two large womanly breasts and exposed legs coming from underneath her police uniform. Her hair was short and blonde, her face seeming to be innocent, too young for the madness of time to give it an appearance of despair or malignity; the only tint to her beauty was her red, vampiric eyes.

For an eternity of a moment I stood there, my thoughts of the voluptuous little vampire I saw, and of those that ran around the building, making sure no others were there. None of them could see me though; I was still invisible to them.

My mind raced, influenced by the liveliness of everyone there, when suddenly I was made fully aware of all my surroundings and brought back into the mentality of life. It was a certain strength I sensed, a power that could draw any nosforatu's attention.

Out of the building came a very tall man, towering over every other living being there, with long black hair and an emotionless appearance on his face. He wore orange glasses and a red hat that covered his head on all sides, a red trench coat with black clothing underneath it, though I couldn't see what sort they were. He placed his gun—a silver pistol with words engraved on the barrel—into his coat pocket and turned to me. I knew who he was, his identity flooding my mind. His name was—

"Alucard," I said to myself.

He grinned a large grin, and said in a whisper, "Raziel."

He was gone.