Disclaimer: Hellsing belongs to Kouta Hirano, Gonzo Animation, Dark Horse Comics and Geneon Entertainment.
Painkillers
She cradled the fragile glass doll in her arms carefully, taking small, slow steps. As she shuffled by the many intricately carved doors, she stroked the doll's hair.
"Father," she asked hopefully, "do you think Mother will like her present?"
"Yes, Integral," he replied, though a worried look tinged his face. "I'm sure she would."
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"So, Walter…" she muttered, pacing among the rubble. "You… left—on my orders— and come back here, in front of me, for… For what, Walter?"
The Butler howled with laughter, his voice echoing.
"For what, you ask?" he said, amused. "For what? My dear Miss Hellsing! How can you forget?"
At first, she did not see what he was referring to, but still her wrath harboured. Slowly, however, it sunk in. She did not know exactly what it was, but knew it was something she would not like.
Then, as she did start to realise it, her teeth she ground, knowing what would come next. Her fingernails dug into her palms, gloves tearing where her fingers fought. The cigar between her cavities was close to being chewed in half.
"Your order, Miss Hellsing!"
She drew her sword in a rush of anger, poised to strike.
"Come back alive, at all costs," she repeated.
"Come back alive at all costs!"
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A man dressed in a black suit hurried over to her father, and said urgently after a hasty bow,
"Sir, something's gone on with your wife. It's like she's poisoned!"
Integral's hands shook, and the doll very nearly fell to the floor.
"What is it, Father? What is it?"
The man took no notice of the little girl and continued to relate something to Sir Hellsing in a hushed voice while the man himself motioned her to be patient.
After a while he nodded curtly to the messenger, and turned his attention to his daughter.
"Come, Integral," he cried, taking her hand. "Mother's in danger!"
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"Walter!" she shouted, lunging at him with her bloodstained sabre. "Why?"
He dodged her attack easily; still wearing that satisfied smirk.
"And you still ask why, Miss Hellsing!" he exclaimed in mock surprise. "Isn't it obvious? I have come back, Miss Hellsing! 'At all costs'."
"I never meant it that way, you know that," she called angrily. "And—yes, you are no longer alive."
"Oh well yes, I am," he replied smoothly, chuckling. "You see me move, don't you? I am very much alive, my lady…"
"But you're an Undead! A vampire!"
"That, I am not," he asserted, jumping high to evade her low swipe. "I am… How should I say this…
"A reconstructed human."
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"Mother… Mother…" she sobbed, standing at the door, trying her best to refrain from jumping into her mother's arms. "Mother, what happened to you? Wh-why are you in bed? What are these tubes?"
Mrs. Hellsing gave a weak laugh, and gestured for her to come closer.
"Come here, Integral," she said gently, though with a rather strained smile. She took her hand in hers, and swinging it, consoled her, "It's ok, Integral. Mother's doing fine, just fine. Why don't you go to your room? I'll be there in a minute."
"M-mother, your present," she stuttered, instead of immediately obeying her mother's words, and getting confused with all that was going on. She held out the glass doll. "This is for you, Mother."
"Oh, what a lovely gift! What a good girl I have; don't you agree, Arthur? Integra's such a good girl." Mrs. Hellsing ruffled her hair fondly.
Pleased, Integral brightened up considerably, beaming.
"Now, would you like to help me place that doll up in my room? I'll see you there when I've had a change of clothes. Agreed?"
A series of happy nods sealed the understanding. Yet, Integral was not so sure. "Promise?"
"Promise!"
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"Reconstructed human!" sneered the knight. "I have never heard more nonsense in my life than I have tonight."
"Believe what you will, Miss Hellsing. For what I say is what I am."
"Silence!" she hissed, very narrowly missing the Butler's stomach. The remnants of the ripped fabric fluttered into the air. "Lies will always be lies."
"It is time you face the facts, Hellsing. Just what a scientist always does," he went on, unperturbed. A wry smile formed on his lips.
"Well, I am not the Doctor."
She persisted in slashing thin air with every casual sidestep from the one who was once called Walter.
One would see it as a lost cause, and a waste of one's energy, as it was virtually impossible for a mere woman to inflict so much as a scratch upon a superhuman, lest he relents. But she was not a mere woman. With each thrust, she had more reason to soldier on; more vigour.
Suddenly, with more carelessness on the Butler's part than swiftness from Integral, her blade sliced off his hand. Blood spurted from the wound, staining her arms red. However, with a laugh, he healed the wound in no more than five seconds.
She had seen how those who had the ability usually regenerated any missing body parts, yet the Butler's "method" looked different. It was utterly bizarre and looked more sinister. For a few instants she stared at the hand, then found out why.
The way it was rebuilt looked like flesh needed was taken from the rest of the body; the surface of his arm rippled as tissue was pushed forward to provide for the hand.
His hand was flexing its muscles, when it suddenly contracted into a fist and connected with her face.
He grinned madly as she fell backwards to land on the soiled ground. The punch very nearly broke her nose, and it hurt; but her glasses cut into his knuckles and flesh. Nevertheless, he brushed the matter of his ravaged fist aside without much thought; he licked the blood dripping down and nibbled at the bare, sensitive meat. In another moment the wounds closed up.
"You see, Miss Hellsing," he said lightly, "my body is much better than yours. Yet I'm not even a vampire."
"If you think so," she growled, pushing her sword into the ground for support. "But that mind's demented."
"So it is!"
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As she was about to close the door, spasms from her mother erupted behind. Jolted, she turned to look, and her young heart broke.
"Mother!" she screamed, dropping the glass doll she was holding. She ran towards the woman lying on the bed, tears already streaming out of her eyes. The sight immediately aged her, and the pressure on her eyes instantly brought myopia to her healthy eyes.
Mrs. Hellsing was in a bout of fits: Foam spilled over the corners of her mouth, her eyes rolled about in their sockets, her body was jerking as if possessed.
As she tried to get into her mother's arms to comfort her, the glass doll fell to the floor.
It shattered into a million pieces.
Just like her heart.
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As he jumped into the sky to avoid yet another hack, he suddenly stiffened. Unable to recover quickly, he crashed hard onto several iron splinters. The metal pierced his back and kidneys, and he lay there helpless. Why had his body suddenly seized up?
Feeling strangely weak from the sudden shock that filled his whole body, he struggled to get back on his feet. He managed it, though the numbness never left his limbs. Was it the splinters?
He then tried to heal the deep gashes. But it went horribly wrong.
It was as if the exposed flesh was crying to get out, burning in its place, fighting to escape the host. He screeched out into the night, and tore away at the wayward tissue. In spite of this, the searing pain got worse. The new wounds opened by his scraping off of his own flesh also bore the same unbearable sensation, and he tumbled to the ground once more.
So this is the "instability" the Doctor warned, she thought. Smiling, she strode over to the fallen Angel.
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"Integral, why are you so uptight? Why can't you relax?" her father asked exasperatedly. It was already two years after his wife's sudden death, but his daughter showed no signs of recovery. It was like she had vowed to grieve all her life.
"I'm all right, Father. I wish to do well," she said formally.
"Yes, but this is too much!"
"What is too much?" she inquired, a little too crisply.
"Integral, I want you to enjoy your childhood, your life!"
"I am, Father. I enjoy working hard and succeeding."
"No, Integral, you aren't. I know you aren't. You were never like this before," he noted distractedly, walking up and down the room.
"I've changed, Father," she replied as curtly as before. "We all change."
"Yes, you've changed, obviously you've changed!" he burst out , grabbing his head in frustration. "But you're changing for the worse, not better! You are building a wall around yourself, you are trying to suppress your feelings."
Hearing this, she dropped the pen she was scribbling with. It clearly surprised her, and it was no wonder, for she had never heard such an accusation.
"What did you just say, Father?" she asked, the blood drained from her face.
"All this that we see here, your abrupt change in behaviour, opinions and character—are all the result of your sorrow from your mother's death," he told her quietly, finally seating himself in front of her table. "You are in danger, Integral. In danger of being taken over."
"Taken over by what?" she snapped, swiftly returning to her old self.
"The Monster that controls you, Integral. Painkillers can numb the pain—but that is all they do. And they cease to work after prolonged use."
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"Nowhere else to go, Walter?" she jeered, pointing the tip of her sword at his neck. "What will you do now?"
"What will you do?" he finally succeeded in ceasing his loud groans to retort.
She ignored his comment, and continued acidly, "Seems like a normal human's body is better off after all."
"Integral, you are strong. But there's one thing wrong with you."
"And what is that?"
"You may have been controlling millions, and may be controlling more after the war's over. But above all, the Monster is controlling you. The painkiller numbs the pain and controls the host's body."
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"Rubbish," she dismissed her father's prediction. "That is not what's happening to me."
Despite her confident outlook, she knew that he was right. She was only using a mask to cover her weakness. And it still remains.
"Listen to me, please, Integral! Suppression of one's emotions will never work. You have to let it out."
She gave a quiet laughter and responded, "That has never been the matter, Father."
As she excused herself and strode to the bathroom, tears filled her eyes, only to be beaten back down.
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"Your mind is fading, Walter!" she proclaimed to the world, raising the sword high.
"You will fall, Integral! You will fall!"
"Words from the defeated."
He yelled something with what was to be his last breath, but she cut him off, bellowing as she plunged her blade into his heart and chopped off his head, ending his life.
"You are dependent on the painkillers you use. They will betray you one day.
"They are but mere painkillers."