Hellsing: Inversion

By Twin Enigma

Order 02: Master of Monsters

'Captain' Seras Victoria phased through the wall of the kitchen with a cheerful smile, accidentally startling one of the new manor staff with her rather sudden appearance. She noted that the poor bloke managed to stumble this time instead of fainting and decided that he was adjusting to his job at a good pace. A few more weeks and he'd be as acclimated to weirdness as the rest of the Organization. Of course, in this line of business, weird was a sort of normalcy unto itself and Hellsing was about as normal as any organization could be in the vampire hunting business.

Seras made her way through the busy kitchen with practiced ease, absently continuing her ruminations on the general status quo as she headed for the shelves were the tea was kept. The Organization staggered the troops on a schedule by company, so that there were always at least two active companies on duty at any given point during the day. And while the majority of Hellsing's troops were either from the RAS or SAS, the vampire hunting business had a habit of making them more than a little quirky. For example, 'Geese' Company enjoyed regaling everyone with their traditional cadence regarding subjects better left unsaid whenever they were in formation – which happened to be about four times a day – and Echo Company would always abseil into any building they could, even while on base.

She frowned, unable to find the Ceylon tea, and leaned down to look in the lower cabinets, thinking one of the chefs had misplaced it. A knife whizzed through the air where her head had been a second earlier and lodged itself firmly in the wall. Seras ignored it, recognizing it for what it was: their sous-chef's berserker personality had been triggered again, probably by a misplaced pan. Yesterday, it had been a soup spoon and the day before, it was a ladle. Fortunately, most of the chefs and staff were former military and special operations personnel from around the world and they had the sous-chef back to her normal, more personable self in short order.

Seras shoved aside a cardboard box of bayonets she'd 'liberated' from Anderson some time back, some chopsticks, and several firearms. Where was that bloody tea? Perhaps it was like that incident with the Gunpowder Tea a few years ago... although, the Nosferatu hoped they really couldn't have hired anyone stupid enough to mistake Ceylon tea for something else. Hmm, Sir Alucard might just have to deal with a nice Camomile instead.

Seras sighed and went back to the overhead cabinet for the Camomile. The current Sir Hellsing was inherently a good person, if not a bit too headstrong and hot-tempered for her liking, and she loved him like a son. However, his bloody idiot of a father had given him her former Master's name, failing to understand that it would inevitably cause problems later on rather than solving them as anticipated. Poor kid, getting saddled with a name that had such a violent legacy... It was no small wonder why the boy had almost completely ceased using his first name in the years since he'd taken power – and having Integra around hadn't helped either.

She drew her lips into a grimace as her thoughts inevitably turned to the other resident vampire of Hellsing, the Nosferatu Integra. Integra was not the same woman she had been all those years ago. She had almost become unrecognizable, a true monster, and Seras could not help but fear for the safety of the young Hellsing. Integra was far too unstable for him to trust in her so readily.

Seras ordered one of the less-busy chefs to put on water for tea and set about preparing the tea service for use. Sir Alucard would be back soon and she had a feeling he'd be in need of some tea. The sous-chef bellowed in rage again and started chasing one of the dishwashers with a metal meat tenderizer. The Nosferatu sighed as she ducked a wild swing and went back to arranging Sir Alucard's favorite biscuits on a small plate.

Yes, things certainly had become weirder over the years since she'd joined.

Director Hellsing had calmed a bit by the time the helicopters had landed back at Headquarters, a weary sort of acceptance having settled over him. His servant had caught him off guard and quite literally tied his hands in regards to her fledgling. What is more, she knew it too, the bloody bint. He rubbed his temple in attempt to ward of the growing headache she'd caused and headed back towards the manor, passing by India Company. They greeted him with a loud chorus of "Sir, good evening, Sir" as they marched past, to which he responded to with a brisk "Carry on."

A veritable mountain of paperwork was waiting for him at his desk and there would be more now that he had to officially transfer the 'surviving' D-11 officer to Hellsing. Then there was the matter of the Convention of Twelve. The young director had no doubt they'd inform the King as soon as they read the reports from tonight's mission and then the questions about his ability to control the Nosferatu and run the organization would start. He grimaced and entered the manor, a part of him still itching to unload a full clip of blessed silver-alloy bullets into that smirking midian bitch he controlled.

"Welcome back, sir," said the familiar cheerful voice of his loyal retainer, the Nosferatu Seras. She hardly seemed like a midian at all, but he knew better than to be tricked by her maid's uniform and kind, youthful face. Seras had been with Hellsing since before the Millennium War and had long remained their single most reliable and effective trashman. She was semi-retired now, having preferred to stay close to the manor ever since that day, ten years ago...

"How was the mission?" she continued, cutting off his thoughts before he could wander down darker lanes of memory.

The young director scowled by way of an answer.

"I see," Seras said, "Integra, again? What did she do this time?"

He sighed, pushing up his glasses, and replied, "She turned the only surviving D-11 officer into her fledgling – most likely just to spite me."

Seras stiffened as though she'd been struck and then her red eyes narrowed in barely concealed anger.

"Are you all right, Seras?" he asked, a bit confused by her reaction.

The Nosferatu shook her head as though to clear it and plastered a thin smile on her face. "It's nothing, my child. Just some bad memories... Now, you look like you could use a nice cup of tea to take your mind off that horrid bat."

At that, the director smirked. "Best not let her find out you've been calling her names, Seras. She might take offense."

"Don't josh me," the blonde vampire huffed, waving it off. "She deserves it after all she's done."

He nodded his agreement - he had his own personal issues with her, too - and, absently, his gaze began to wander towards the stairs. He supposed he should cut this short, as there was still work to be done. "They will have probably finished with clean-up by now," he paused and gave her a false grin. "And I had better get started on the paperwork."

The Nosferatu chuckled, knowing full well how much he hated the seemingly endless stream of paperwork that flooded his office. "I'll be along with your tea shortly, sir."

Director Hellsing gave her a nod of silent appreciation and started up the stairs, heading for his office.

"Oh, Sir Alucard," Seras piped up, causing him to stop and look back. Her eyes had that strange gleam in them, the edge that showed her true predatory nature. "Don't trouble yourself over Sir Integra. I will see to it that she is dealt with accordingly."

He paused, his hand resting on the banister, and stared at her. A part of him was very tempted to stay and watch, but he supposed it would be better if he was not here when Seras ripped into her target. He closed his eyes then, smirking, and resumed walking up the stairs.

Shortly after delivering Sir Alucard's tea to his office, Seras returned to the ground floor and issued some additional orders to the manor staff that would keep them well out of the way. The last thing she wanted to do was injure one of the staff, as good help was hard to find and finding good help willing to work in the Hellsing Manor was comparable to looking for a needle in a haystack the size of Pre-Millennium London. In short, it was a pain in the proverbial arse and she just didn't feel like dealing with replacing any pillock stupid enough to get between her and teaching Integra a lesson. That being done, Seras then went back to the entrance hall and patiently waited for the other vampire to return.

A half hour passed before the vampire heard the familiar sound of the NH90 tactical transport helicopters that Hellsing used landing in the compound. Seras smirked and removed her white gloves, putting them in a hidden pocket in her skirt. She loved the sound of those tough birds, because it meant the company they'd deployed was home, safe and sound. A part of her also loved the sound for what it meant to the soldier – Pip, she amended – under heavy fire and waiting for extraction: time to leave, the cavalry has come. Wagner began trumpeting through the back of her mind, accompanied by images of the helicopter assault scene from Apocalypse Now, and she quickly shushed their source, reminding her spiritual companion of her current objective.

Seras could sense Integra now, moving steadily closer to the manor doors, and pulled on her black gloves. She took a second to adjust them and then placed her hands behind her back, resisting the urge to grin. There was no reason to alert the ex-Hellsing what she was up to, after all.

Eventually, the doors opened and Integra strolled in with her fledgling in arms. Said fledgling was mostly concealed by the blanket he was wrapped in and appeared to be sound asleep; the only thing immediately visible was the officer's black hair, as his face was turned towards Integra. A part of Seras recoiled in anger at the image, so vividly similar to the memories of her own turning and laden with hidden threat towards the current Hellsing leader that it nearly shook her to the core.

Integra was truly a monster.

"Sir Alucard has informed me that you have sired a fledgling," Seras stated without preamble, glaring icily at the taller vampire. "A room is being prepared for him in the basement, along with a sufficient ration of medical blood."

Integra's lips twitched as though she was about to smirk and then she strode forward, easily crossing the distance between them. "Well, then, police girl," she started, twisting the title maliciously like a knife as she deposited her cargo on the floor between them. "I will leave him in your capable hands and prepare my report for my Master."

"You will turn in your report to me," Seras countered smoothly, deciding not to engage in the taller vampire's childish name-calling. "I will see to it that he gets it."

Integra clearly hadn't expected that and narrowed her eyes, a leering manic grin on her lips. "Hiding from me? How childish of him. Doesn't my Master want to yell at me?"

"Sir Alucard doesn't have the time to be bothered with your infantile attempts at baiting him," Seras replied curtly, bringing her hands out from behind her back and deliberately letting the taller vampire see the black, fingerless gloves.

The former Hellsing leader recognized them instantly and immediately took half a step back. "So, police girl, are you going to tie me up here? I didn't realize you were into that sort of thing –"

"Shut up!" the smaller vampire snapped, splaying her fingers to trigger the wires. The merest flick of her wrist and the wires were tightly looped around Integra's neck, biting into her skin. Seras tightened the wires a fraction of an inch, drawing blood, and continued, "Oh, I know what you're up to, Integra, and I won't have any of it."

Integra's eyes widened sharply as Seras pulled the wires taut. Her head spun in place and dropped to the floor, though her body remained standing. Of course, mere decapitation wouldn't kill either of the vampire women – they were both far too powerful for that – but it did hurt like a bastard.

"Consider that a warning," Seras said, glaring down at the severed head of her former employer. "I'll be watching."

Integra scowled and dissolved both her head and body into mist form, quickly vanishing from the room. She was undoubtedly retreating to her room in the dungeons, where she could pull herself together and sulk for a while.

Good riddance, Seras thought nastily and then turned her head to regard the fledgling. He appeared to have slept through the whole thing. She sighed – it was probably for the best anyway – and knelt, easily slinging him over her shoulder. "Come on, then... let's get you to bed, kid."

Director Hellsing blinked wearily as the ammunition requisition form he was about to sign seemed to get blurrier and blurrier. He could feel himself nodding off even as he struggled to remain awake and finish his work. Clutching his pen tightly and scowling, he attempted to finish signing the form, only to have the text blur together again. He shook it off and then groaned as he saw the scrawling mess he'd made of his signature.

"Curse it all," he muttered, rubbing his eyes. He was so tired and there was still so much more work to do. Sighing, he tapped the pen against the desk and glared at the offending requisition form. Perhaps it wouldn't hurt to close his eyes for a minute and then get back to work. Just for a minute, he assured himself and closed his eyes.

The director's eyes had not been shut for more than a few seconds when he felt what could only be described as a blotch of darkness moving towards him – Nosferatu! Instantly, his eyes shot open and in an instinctive, near fluid movement, he drew his sidearm, bringing it to bear on the door. He narrowed his eyes as it opened and, frowning, lowered the gun. "Seras... You startled me."

"A thousand pardons," she said, smiling a little as she entered his office. "I didn't realize you were asleep, sir."

He glared at her and put the gun back in its holster. "I was not asleep, Seras."

"You, sir, were asleep," the Nosferatu retainer said pointedly. "Come on, off to bed with you. The last thing you need is to wake up with a copy of some munitions form plastered all over your face."

The image brought a slight smile to the young director's face. "Yes, I suppose that would be rather embarrassing, wouldn't it?"

"That it would, sir," Seras replied. "Your father once spent a whole day walking around with a copy of a troop transfer order on his face and no one had the guts to tell him."

He smirked, quickly finishing up the form, and put it in the 'out' box. "Is that so? I don't remember that."

"That was a long time ago, before your father met your mother," Seras noted wistfully, her gaze drifting towards the portrait of his parents. "And back then, most everyone was still in awe of what your father had accomplished."

Nodding absently, the director stood and slowly circled the desk so that he now stood beside her, looking at the portrait. The painted form of a mother he'd never known did not hold his gaze for very long; instead, he looked to the image of his father, who had been killed nearly ten years ago.

His father had been a great man – a great leader – and he fiercely wished to do his father's memory justice by being equally as great, but things hadn't been easy since he took command. Integra was nothing short of a borderline sociopath and while the seals forced her obedience, she was constantly testing both their and his limits. The Convention of Twelve didn't fully trust in his ability to control the former knight or the organization and were just waiting for an excuse to remove him from command. In fact, the only reasons they hadn't already removed him were that they were deathly afraid of Integra and knew for a fact that he was the only remaining one who could control her.

His thoughts turned back to Integra's fledgling then and he frowned, wondering if that poor police boy would have lived if he had been a better leader. "Seras, am I as good a leader as my father was?"

"Your father was a good man, Sir Alucard," she answered softly and he felt her presence gently skim the surface of his thoughts before she continued. "But he understood what things were his responsibilities and what things were not. D-11 should not have been sent in and they paid for it, dearly. As for the police boy... he made his decision, the same as I did, and he'll have to live with it."

The director sighed, turning away. "But he isn't alive anymore, Seras."

There was an awkward silence for a moment.

"Well, I suppose I could take him under my wing," the vampire huffed finally, folding her arms over her chest. "Show him the ropes... Maybe teach him how to use the Harkonnen."

"I'd prefer that you teach him how you kept your humanity and encourage him to do the same," the director noted tiredly and opened the door. "It would be worth it just to prove to the Vatican once and for all that you aren't a singular exception to the rule."

Seras shook her head, smiling a little, and chuckled, "I suspect they'll never be satisfied, no matter what I do, sir." She paused, considering something for a moment, and then spoke again: "The police boy will probably need a few days to get settled before we can see about any evaluation work. He should be pretty much up to speed though, if he's D-11."

"And if he won't eat?" the director asked. There was an unspoken meaning to the question, one that he knew Seras would understand: he was the leader of Hellsing and as such, he could not allow a starving fledgling vampire to threaten his staff and soldiers.

The Nosferatu inclined her head, a predatory gleam visible in her eyes. "Oh, I have my ways, sir. He'll eat, whether he likes it or not."

"Thank you, Seras," he said and gave her a tired smile. "How would I survive without you?"

"I suspect you'd find a way. Hellsings always do," the retainer stated matter-of-factly. "Now, you're going to get some sleep. You need it."

Before he could even open his mouth to protest, she had tapped him on the side of the head with one of her shadows and he slumped gracelessly into much-needed sleep.

Integra was sulking in the darkest corner of her Master's bedroom when she felt Seras approach the room. The steady, familiar heartbeat of her Master accompanied the former police girl's presence, though it was evident from the rhythm that he was deeply asleep. "So, Master's been naughty... staying up past his bedtime again," she murmured to herself.

"Lady Integra, it's time for bed," Walter said from the doorway.

Integra shook her head, clamping her hands over her ears as the childish echo of her own voice answered the butler's. It hurt to remember Walter and more so when she remembered how he died – both times. Still, she could not help remembering. The smallest things would remind her and then the memories would surge forward again, threatening to consume her whole. It seemed that was it was her curse to never forget all that she'd lost.

The doorknob squeaked as it turned, jolting her from her thoughts. Integra quickly scooted backwards and vanished into the wall, concealing her presence as much as possible from the shorter vampire. She didn't fancy losing her head a second time in the space of one night, which would be exactly what would happen to her if the former police girl caught her in the Master's room. Seras, it seemed, was much like Walter in that aspect and, idly, Integra wondered how much of the butler the smaller vampire had consumed before letting his soul fly on.

The concealed Nosferatu frowned: obviously, the police girl had devoured quite a lot of the butler, if her knowledge of overseeing the manor and servants was anything to go by. And Walter had always been a wary one, having seen every trick of Alucard's before. But her Count was patient, so she would be patient, too, and she'd get what she wanted in the end.

Seras entered the room, carrying the slumbering Hellsing over her shoulder with the ease of habit and set him down on the bed. She took off his glasses, placing them on the nightstand, and set about the task of putting him into his pajamas as if he were nothing more than a child... which, to the police girl, he was – her child, in all but flesh and blood.

Integra didn't watch. The idea of Seras as a mother figure was profoundly disturbing somehow. She decided it had to be because the police girl wasn't just Seras, but also Pip and Walter, too. Seras had always been a picky eater, but there was no telling who else she'd eaten over the years and just how she'd integrated them into herself. She shuddered to think what the police girl would be like if Anderson was traipsing around in her head.

The sound of the door closing brought the concealed vampire's attention back to the room. Seras was gone and her Master was sound asleep under the covers, moonlight from the nearby window illuminating his features.

"Goody, goody," Integra thought with a smirk and, slowly, she emerged from the wall. She loomed over the bed, the moon casting her shadow over the slumbering human. Fitting, she supposed, as her presence would forever shadow the remains of the Hellsing line.

The vampire now moved her shadow, letting it extend phantom-like fingers and trace the lines of her Master's face. He frowned in his sleep, but did not stir; he was firmly in the world of dreams and that was where she preferred him to remain for the time being. He troubled her when he was awake, a very living reminder of how she used to be before the Millennium War, and she hated him for it.

Her Master was a usurper, like his father and grandmother. The Convention of Twelve stole Hellsing away from her - took it, like thieves in the night – and gave it into hands that were never meant to hold it. Then they had her sealed away, leaving her to rot in the very cell where she'd met her dear Count, and all involved sought to forget their shame. The only solace she took from her imprisonment was that her time in the dungeons had given her ample opportunity to plan out her vengeance.

And what a vengeance it would be!

The Nosferatu smiled wickedly and extended her powers further, allowing her to slip into her Master's dreams. She was cautious, though: he could sense her presence and wake if she was not careful. But she knew all the tricks and how to conceal her presence as much as possible – her Count had been a good teacher and she had been an attentive student.

She manifested as shadows in a mirror and briefly assessed her location. It was daylight and she appeared to still be in her Master's bedroom, but now in the past. Her Master was just pulling on his shoes: he was a young teenager, barely older than she had been when she first met her Count, and destined to take the reins of Hellsing through violence like the Hellsings that came before him. He was shorter and somewhat gangly as a teen, with wilder hair that hung at shoulder length and lacking the scowl he'd developed over the years since he released her. In short, he could have been considered a handsome boy, had she not hated him and all he represented.

Integra absently watched her Master rise and open the door, triggering a shift in the dream. They were now in what had once been her office, standing before the father of her Master. It was this man, the bastard child of her second cousin, who had sealed her with their ancestor's spells. But she did not wish to be caught and so she hid her rage away before her Master noticed anything amiss.

"Father, where is everyone?" her Master asked. He appeared to be a little confused. "I couldn't find Seras."

"Ah... That is because Captain Seras is on a mission," his father said, smiling slightly. "There were also a few incidents in the city. It's possible our soldiers will clean out more than one nest tonight."

The boy nodded and took a seat before the desk.

Integra raised an eyebrow, smirking. So, her Master was dreaming of the day that he'd met her. How quaint, she mused and absently studied a poorly repaired bullet hole in one of the bookshelves.

The radio, which had previously been silent, came to life: "Valentin to base. All units in position. Commencing primary insertion."

The soon-to-be-dead Hellsing turned his attention to the radio and the operation, while his son's attention started to wander towards the window. In the distance, the setting sun spilled bloody rays across the land as if aware that something important was coming to an end. Integra found it appropriate and somewhat poetic, a fitting sign of the end of her Master's childhood.

"Advanced Fire Team Alpha to Command: target acquired."

"Roger, Fire Team. Target status?"

"Single Midian, type A. We have a shot. Requesting permission to fire."

"Roger. Permission granted, Alpha. All units stand by."

Her Master stood suddenly, a strange look on his face, and approached the window. "Father..." he began, a strange hitch in his voice. "There's a vampire near the fence."

The older man's face went an alarming shade of white as realization dawned on him. "Base to Valentin! The nests are decoys! Return to base immediately!"

Integra watched the younger version of her Master turn to look at his father; he was frightened, but soon that fright would be replaced by cold determination and anger. It was amazing how transformative the death of a loved one can be, she mused.

After all, look at what the deaths of her father and Walter had done for her. She was much stronger than she had ever been and, if it weren't for the infernal seals, she'd be able to freely use as much power as she desired to in whatever manner she pleased. And there wouldn't be a thing that wretched little usurper could do about it.

The dream abruptly ceased, momentarily disorienting Integra as she was forcibly ejected from her Master's psyche. She hissed, shaking her head to clear it. Then she heard the all-too familiar metallic click of a gun being cocked and opened her eyes, only to stare down the business end of a Beretta held by her very much awake and absolutely livid Master.

"Get out," her Master said in an icy voice and pulled the trigger.

Her only thought as the .45 silver bullet impacted her skull was a nice, concise 'Ouch.'

AN: Hi, I'm back with Order 2 of Inversion. In case you haven't noticed, this isn't your typical character inversion setup.

Geese company would actually be Golf company - phonetic alphabet and whatnot-, but they're nicknamed Geese company in honor of the Wild Geese.

The whole thing with the special forces kitchen staff is a joke about the Under Siege movies (namely, "You can't beat the chef in the kitchen") and the berserker sous-chef has a part to play down the road.

Pip's still hanging out inside Seras and Seras has the killer dental floss of Doom! ...Proving once again, you are what (or who) you eat. Blearg.

Integra is mostly out of her mind, just to be clear, as she's lost everything that really meant something to her, including the organization.

Sir Hellsing's choice of bedside weapon is a Beretta Cougar F, .45 cal. His regular sidearm is either a Heckler & Koch USP or a GLOCK 21C - I haven't decided yet, as I like both.

You'll get to see more of the past later on.