Stevens23

Tiffany Stevens

Creative Writing

Ms. Foley March 13, 2006 Memories of a forgotten past

Hans awoke to the strong robust smell of breakfast being cooked in the small house. He groaned and stumbled out of bed, his eyes falling to his work uniform. He shut his eyes and moaned again. Standing up he stretched, his back cracking angrily at him. Meandering through the tiny house, he found himself in the kitchen, leaning over his wife who was busy hovering over the hot stove.

"What's for breakfast this morning?" he asked nuzzling her neck.

"Same as always oatmeal." She sighed, stirring the pot unmethodically. Hans groaned and ran a hand through his sandy blonde hair.

"Has Franz woken up yet?" he asked yawning.

"Yes, he's in his room getting ready for school." Putting his head in his hands he sighed and let out a tired growl. "Here," she said placing a bowl in front of him, "Eat, and get ready for work, you don't want to be late." She chided. He nodded and ate his breakfast. Moments later Franz came out of his bedroom dressed in his Montessori school uniform. He sat at the table and ate his breakfast obediently, without a word. Afterwards he got up and grabbed his books; he kissed his mother and father goodbye and left for school.

"He's a good kid." Cneajna remarked, cradling her cup of coffee and sitting next to her husband at the table. Hans lay back in his chair and sighed. Cneajna sighed tiredly and stood up to warm the chilling coffee. "Hans, you need to get ready for work, you don't want to be late." She remarked, pouring a bit of cream into her new cup of coffee.

"Sure I do, I hate my job." He remarked, reluctantly leaving his chair to go to his bedroom to change his clothing.

Captain Hans Günche adjusted his thick red armband before leaving the bedroom to greet his wife once more before he left. Sitting at the kitchen table he pulled his boots on and groaned giving Cneajna one last pity look before he picked up his rifle and walked out the door, his hard soled shoes clapping against the cobblestone streets. Cneajna watched as her husband walked down the street to his 'job'. She hated his line of work, but he didn't have a choice, he was in the military the day that Hitler came to power.

Hans hated his job. He wasn't a naturally a cruel person, and he despised trying to be one. Somehow he still rose to be the Captain of his fleet. He was strategic and tactful. He knew how to run things. However, being a nazi was not what worried him, it was the fact that his wife was Russian, and his son was half-Russian, and with the recent restrictions made by Führer, he feared for their safety.

The door creaked as Hans opened it. The entire house was dark; Cneajna and Franz were already in bed, as Hans stumbled through the house, the moonlight pouring through the windows his only guide. Stripping his clothes he clambered into the mattress and searched for his wife's sleeping form. Cradling her form against his, he buried his face in her auburn strands he sighed and fell asleep.

Sun broke through the window, burning Han's sensitive eyes; instinctively he threw his hand over his face, turned to his stomach and went to sleep exposing his muscular well-toned back.

"Good Morning!" Franz cried leaping to the bed. Hans groaned, and turned over. Cneajna sat up and hugged her small son.

"Hans, wake up, it's nearly 8 o'clock." She chided. Hans growled

"I got home late last night, let me sleep."

"I heard you, what happened?" she asked concernedly.

"I'm not talking about it!" Hans growled he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Clearing his throat he ran his hand through his blonde hair, and sighed. "Franz, go play in your room for a while, your mother and I need to talk." The child grabbed his toy train and left the room.

"What is this Hans? What is going on?" she asked, confused.

"Cneajna, do you realize what is going on outside our door? Do you realize what Hitler is doing? I fear for your safety."

"Why dear? I'm not Jewish."

"It's not just Jews anymore, it's anyone who is an immigrant, or non-Aryan." He explained, holding her hand.

"What should we do?" She asked sounding frantic.

"I think that I should send you and Franz to America, at least until the war is over."

"I can't leave you here Hans, I really can't, you can't survive without me, you can barely dress yourself."

"I think that I can last till the war is over, Cneajna your safety is more important."

"Oh, Hans!" she cried, bringing his head to her bosom. He wrapped his arms around her. They sat in silence for a few long moments, drinking in the tranquility, the beautiful chirp of birds outside. It seem to last only a few short seconds, before the silence was broken by a blood chilling scream. Hans cringed and broke to tears. His job was taking a toll on his mentality. All those people he killed, sent to death camps it chewed at his nerve endings and ate away at his brain. Cneajna cradled him as he cried.

Time passed quickly that day but the night was still young. Franz had unwillingly been put to bed an hour earlier than normal. Cneajna splashed a light bit of perfume on her neck, and straightened her sheer white nightgown. She approached the bed and kneeled above her husband. The lovers hit the bed in a fit of passion.

Hans knew before he opened his eyes that he was no longer in his bed, what he was lying on felt to hard, and cold. Subconsciously he searched for his wife's form, only to realize that his hands were tied behind his back. He struggled to lift his head; it felt like it was full of bricks. Flittering he opened his eyes, only to see that his precious wife was tied up and beaten, in a locale they did not recognize. However, the constant screams and bouts of gunfire told them that they were still in Germany, more than likely outside of Munich. Twisting, Hans sat up, he gazed around and found Franz, also tied up and gagged on the floor. He was frightened he had no idea what was going on, or even how they had gotten him here. Yet the slight throb of a puncture hole told him. Hypodermic needle, he cursed himself through the gag.

"Vell Vell, vhat do ve have here?" a voice resounded through the small room. Hans looked to where he had heard the voice reverberated from; a man in a Major's green uniform approached from the shadows. He was short, stout, and blonde. Around his collar he wore the Iron Cross, on his breast were medals, he was too far away for Hans to make out what they were for. He approximated towards Hans and tore the gag from the well-toned man. The moment the gag left his lips, he began to scream and thrash wildly.

"What the hell do you think that you are doing? Release me at once! How dare you! I am also a member of the German army!" He clamored loudly enough that the vein in his neck became prominent.

"Nein, Nein, you see, your vife here, she's not German, now is she? Look at her, she is Russian, you know how Führer thinks of those foreigners, he doesn't like them, he doesn't like them at all!" the man reprimanded.

"It doesn't matter," he growled, "She's still married to a military man! I have paid my dues to society! Now, let us go! You can't keep us here!" He screamed.

"And your son, a half Aryan, still Russian, and Hitler sure does hate those Russians. 'Tis a mighty pity now isn't it?" he mused. Hans calmed down, Cneajna was scared, and he didn't want to scare her anymore, or scare his small son.

"What do you plan on doing?" Hans asked calmly, his blood rushing loudly through his body, he could hear it in his ears, as could the Major.

"Vhy spoil the surprise? I'd rather just let you vatch." He murmured. Hans heard footsteps approaching from behind the Major. Moments later a rather tall man in a doctor's lab coat advanced. The way the light hit his glasses Hans could not see behind them. "Go ahead doktor, I have already briefed you on what I wanted you to do." The doctor grinned and ran a bloody hand through his chin-length blonde hair. Hans watched in horror as the doctor untied his wife, and pushed her to lie on her back. The gag was left on her pink lips. The doctor parted her legs, and tore through her dress. Hans turned away and shut his eyes, as he was forced to listen to his wife's muffled screams of terror as the doctor raped her. Foreign saltwater drops filled his eyes and ran slowly down his young face. With his hands and feet bound her knew that there was nothing that he could do to save Cneajna. He was forced to listen to the sounds of terror within the room, his wife's muffled screams and his son's subdued cries. He forced himself to remain stoic to the events; he bowed his head and ignored it.

When the rape was over Hans lifted his head; his red rimmed eyes proof of his love for his wife.

"You love your vife don't you Hans?" the Major asked, an insanely psychotic grin on his face.

"Don't ask me foolish questions; if I didn't love her I never would have married her."

"Is it impossible for you to tell your vife you love her, one last time?" Hans didn't catch the meaning of what had been said to him. It all happened so fast. Hans watched as the doctor pulled out a military rifle, and shot his wife. However, the screams of him and his son were not loud enough to muffle the ear deafening shot from the gun. Smoke rose from the barrel as the doctor recovered from the recoil of the gun. Tears flowed freely down the Captain's cheeks. "It's a pity you couldn't tell her that you loved her one last time before she died." The Major mocked. Hans stared at him with the look of sheer disgust and hate on his tear-streaked face. His once gentle eyes burning with fire and hate. "Do you have anything to say now Hans?" the Major asked.

"Go to hell." He riposted, writhing his hands behind his back attempting to untie himself from his binds.

"Then you're really going to hate me for this." The Major sighed. The man lifted his gun and shot, the bullet passed Hans and hit his son. He screamed until everything faded to black.

He felt the needle in his arm, the chill of the cold metal table on his bare back, and the rough leather at his wrists and ankles. He was afraid to open his eyes; he didn't know what he would find.

"It's time for you to vake up." The doctor spoke. Hans opened his eyes and gazed at the man standing above him.

"What do you want with me?" Hans asked his mentality was overly exhausted, he just didn't care anymore, and he wanted to join his wife and son.

"Vhy vould ve tell you that now? That vould be spoiling all of the fun that you are about to have." He retorted, untying the binds around his wrists and ankles. Sitting up Hans glared at him; he rubbed his chafed wrists and moved off of the sterile table. "The Major will show you to your room." The doctor said stoically, sterilizing the metal table. As Hans turned his head he saw the Major standing before him in a crisp white suit. The stout man had a grin on his face,

"Don't vorry, my friend, you are still a member of the German military." Hans scoffed,

"That matters not to me, I would rather die than still be a military man, there are other things that are more important." The Major motioned for Hans to follow him, feeling he had nothing to lose he accepted. As he was led down a long hall he noticed another walking towards him, he couldn't tell the gender right away but as they approached Hans realized that the face was to feminine to be a guy, despite the flat chest and double breasted masculine suit. He had to do a double take to make sure.

"That's our naval commander and first lieutenant, she's our only voman next to Joleen, if you can consider her a voman."

"Consider who a woman?" Hans asked

"Joleen, she's more masculine then most of the men on the troops. Trust me you'll know vhen you see her, she's a nasty brute. But anyvay for the most part, you are free to do vhat you vant with Rip there, that's what most of the men here do for fun."

Wait, you let your troops take advantage of your only woman for fun?" Hans asked disgusted.

"Pretty much, but she enjoys it for the most part."

"For the most part?"

"Once in a vhile she gets out of hand, just slap her vhen she does."

"That's disgusting." Hans mumbled under his breath.

"Not really vhen you consider the fact that she is a wampire, and that she doesn't have feelings, it doesn't really hurt her, only if she fights back."

"That's not the point, why are you taking advantage of her in the first place?"

"Because she doesn't acknowledge the 'abuse' like most normal vomen vould, she ignores it and puts herself into her fantasy opera vorld."

"Because she doesn't acknowledge it makes it okay?" he asked believing that the Major and the troops he now associated with were complete and utter scum.

"Yes it does, ve saved her, she is ours, and there is not one thing that she can do about it. You too vill learn to partake in the forbidden pleasure of rape as vell, in due time."

"Absolutely not, I could never force a woman against her will, doesn't matter what I've done for her, its her body not mine."

"You think that now, but you vill learn that you sometimes have to take vhat you vant that is the vay of the verevolf (werewolf)."

"The way of the what?" Hans asked disbelieving.

"The verevolf, that's vhat you are now, get used to it."

"That's childish we all know those are mere fairytales!"

"No, my child it is not. They approached a room on the far end of the hallway. "Here, this is your room." The room was small and only contained a bed, a sink, a dresser and a mirror. Hans turned to the Major,

"You expect me to live here?" he asked.

"You have no other choice." He said turning and leaving. He couldn't believe what was happening. Slowly he approached the mirror. There was something not right with him, his face…it looked…different…his eyes…there was something more animalistic about him. Hans growled and smashed the mirror; he turned and smashed everything else that was in the room with a furious animalistic snarl. He broke apart the dresser, smashed the ceramic sink ripped apart the bedclothes, all the while he didn't notice the woman standing in the doorway.

"Breaking apart everything isn't going to make anything at all right, you're only hurting yourself." Her voice was thick with a Russian accent, as he turned he noticed the woman that he had passed in the hallway earlier, for the life of him he couldn't remember her name. The thing that stayed most prominent was that she was the abuse toy of the majority of the men in the troops.

"Damnit, who are you?" he asked, he was panting, and his hands were bleeding.

"I am Rip Van Winkle and welcome to Millennium, we are division 666 Achtung."

"Rip Van Winkle, that's funny, is it some sort of joke?" Hans asked.

"In a way, I guess it is, you'll have to talk to the Major about it, he's the one that named me." She replied with a heavy sigh.

"This is all a bad dream, or something, I don't know this isn't real." Hans murmured

"This is the life that you have to lead. Get used to it."

"What are you talking about, I don't understand Damnit!"

"You can tell yourself that you're not here, but subconsciously you know that you are. You are living an open book of lies."

"You should be a poet, you know that?" he remarked

"I try."

"I can tell." He remarked cleaning the blood from his hands with his tongue.

"You're a werewolf aren't you." The pronunciation of her 'W's made her accent more prominent.

"That's what I'm told, of course I don't believe in any of this bullshit."

"I didn't believe it either, but you have to learn, and trust me you don't want to learn the hard way like I did. You really don't."

"They hurt you, don't they." He said blatantly, catching the lithe woman off guard, she looked shocked for a moment, then her expression softened.

"Who told you?"

"The major, he told me how the troops like to take part in the 'forbidden pleasure' of raping you and beating you."

"They do, but it's beyond your control so don't even bother trying to stop them it's pointless, and besides I've become used to it."

"How can you become used to something so disturbingly wrong?"

"I just did, after a while I learned that I could just block it out, and ignore it, I became a star in a fairytale not meant for children, a lead in a book that should be banned it holds so much that is wicked."

"I bet all of your poetry is dark and as twisted as what you just told me."

"For the most part it is, but honestly here what would you expect a woman like me to write about? How I love who I am and adore what I do? How I love how my life has turned out?"

"I wouldn't expect you too, after all that you have been through." He remarked, before Rip could open her mouth the little cat-boy of the fleet popped in the room. Rip immediately groaned in distaste.

"Hello! Guten Tag!" he cried.

"Look you little weasel, why don't you leave the adults alone and go play with your ball of yarn or something."

"Why are you so mean to me?" he asked blatantly, Hans noticed that the child couldn't be more than 12 years old.

"Because I don't like you. How does that sound you bothersome furball?" Rip remarked.

"I don't have fur, I'm half human! Am I a furball? Really am I a furball? You have more hair than I do!" The cat-boy remarked.

"Not really, it's just longer than yours."

"That means you have more then me! So you're the furball!" he stuck out his tongue.

"Both philosophical and childish, welcome our very own Cat-boy Schrodinger." Rip announced lazily.

"What does philosophical mean?"

"God! Would you leave already!" Rip cried, annoyed.

"Shoe." He said. Rip pulled off her shoe and threw it down the hallway.

"Go fetch you dumb cat! And leave me alone!" she turned back to Hans. "Would you like to leave the grounds tonight?" she asked.

"Why not, I have nothing else to lose."

"Very well, Just allow me a moment to grab my coat…and a shoe." She replied turning and leaving, her hip-length hair flowing behind her. She returned a moment later wearing a light green12 coat and a red armband over the left arm that bore the swastika. She tossed Hans a red scrap of cloth. It was another armband. "You need to wear this, especially when you go out at night."

"Why do I need to wear this? I am typical Aryan, blonde haired blue eyed."

"Standard rule in Millennium, you ought to read the Handbook when we get back. Just don't lose it or let the cat-boy eat it."

"Are you serious? He will eat it."

"Yes, he ate his with in five minutes of having it in his hands. Poor little moron." Rip sighed.

"That would make him more like a dog then wouldn't it?"

"I suppose it would, but he has feline genetics, it's complicated you will have to talk to Dok about it. He designed him."

"Designed him?" Hans asked.

"Dok specializes in the paranormal things vampires, werewolves, and the like."

"Specializes?"

"The Dok knows what he is doing. Too bad he can't make the Major thin. Let's just put it that way. Now, lets go." She riposted. She moved from where she was standing in the doorway and headed down the hall with Hans in close tow. "We have to walk, I don't own a vehicle." She was blatant.

"Did the cat eat it?" he asked trying to add some dry humor. Rip snorted.

"If I had one to begin with, I wouldn't be surprised if he did."

"Do you know your way around here?" he asked.

"Why wouldn't I?" she asked in response. Hans was caught off guard by her response.

"I don't know, I don't know you." He replied in defense.

"Well I know my way around, I have been here since the war started, and besides, I lived in Munich most of my life." She remarked voice filled with spite. She turned and walked east, her dark hair standing out in contrast to her light jacket. The ground was steep, slippery and marsh-like, but she managed to stand her ground and not slip. Hans found it quite easy however; he was used to marshy ground. He dealt with it too many times in the army.

It was dark and the streets were lit with a low luminescence. Rip's boots clattered against the cobblestones. They passed through stores and houses that were boarded up, windows shattered, the drapes blowing out the busted windows. There were stray kittens roaming the street. One of them rubbed against Rip's leg. She picked it up and stroked it gently. It was a beautiful gray tabby cat with a fluffy white stomach.

"I wish that I could have a cat like this." she mused, setting the animal back on the streets.

"Can't you bring it back with you?" Hans inquired.

"Knowing Schrodinger he'll probably try to mate with it or something. Besides, I don't think the Major will let me have it. We're not allowed pets that could distract us from our duty." She replied walking lazily along the cobblestone, Hans inhaled deeply, his senses were filled with the horrid stench of ash and grease and some other smell made him cringe. "It's the smell of burning flesh. Get used to it, you'll be smelling it until the war is over." Rip sighed. "Then again, I don't have to breathe I suppose you do. I wouldn't know, you're our only werewolf."

"Why wasn't I a vampire as well?"

"Virginity is required for vampirism."3

"How would you know that I am not a virgin?" he asked.

"I pay attention, you're wearing a wedding band. If you're married and still a virgin, then I don't believe that you know what you are doing." She gave him an odd side-glance.

"When Millennium disposes of bodies what is done with them?" he asked, wanting to know if his wife had a proper burial.

"Trust me, that you really don't want to know."

"That's to bad, I have to. Will you tell me?" He asked nearly desperate.

"They are burned." She replied stoically. "They burn the bodies and spread the ashes at crossroads. I don't know why but they do." There was a distinct sadness to her voice. Hans stifled a cry. Rip heard it but ignored it; she cut through the grass and walked up to a hill. Hans trailed behind her. "At one point I was a lot like how you are now. I hated everything, but you have to learn to deal with it, because if you don't you're only going to succeed in making everything harder for yourself. You need to block out human emotion and swallow fear and pride and embrace your assigned role. You need to figure out your part and make it yours." She was becoming irritated. "Look at the sky, look at all the stars and the glorious canvas that lies above you. There is still good in this world, whether or not you choose to believe this is yours." She sat down at the hill and drew her knees up to her chest. Hans noticed that her pants were too short for her long legs and didn't cover her bony ankles. She caught him staring. "They don't make pants long enough for people my height, well they do, but not in a size small enough." She pouted, and rested her head on her upraised knees. She looked really skinny, almost anorexic like. She softened her pose and lie on her back, snuggling in the warmth of her green jacket. Hans sat down beside her, his breath prominent in the chilly night air.

"How long have you been a nazi?" he asked.

"You ask too many questions, you know that? Just sit down and shut up." Rip sighed, she was tired of talking and explaining things that were irrelevant Hans lay back and Rip pulled his head toward her chest. She closed her eyes and sighed. The way the moonlight hit her face gave her a subtle blue tint to her skin, or that could have been because she was dead. Hans studied the features on her face. She had large blue eyes framed by cherished brown freckles she had an adorable stereotypical button nose, and full sensual, pale pink lips. There was strength in her face, imbedded in the way she held her jaw.

Hans was tired, he nuzzled against Rip's chest and fell asleep. When he awoke he was in the warehouse room that was where he was to live. The cat-boy ran into the room, excitedly.

"Did you get your handbook yet?" he asked.

"No, and when I do, you're not going to eat it either." Hans replied sitting up. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and ran a hand through his sandy blonde hair.

"What's under your bed?" he asked.

"I don't know, why don't you look?" Hans replied, standing up and making his way to the mirror.

"Dust! I love dust!" he cried, his feet peeking out from the bed. While Hans tried to adjust to the early morning lag, he heard a blood-chilling scream from down the hall that made him jump.

"What was that?" he asked the little cat-boy who emerged from under the bed with dirt on his face.

"That was Rip." He replied, running his tongue over his face to catch all the dust.

"What's going on? What are they doing to her?" he asked again.

"I don't know, the Major says I can't watch, he doesn't want to corrupt my innocent little mind. So I think that it's something bad." Hans splashed some cool, crisp water on his face and dried it with a towel.

"Can I have the towel please?" Schrodinger asked.

"You want to eat it don't you?"

"Yeah, I already finished off your socks." He grinned and let out a burp. Hans threw him the towel; he squealed and began to chew on it, ripping apart the cotton by intertwining thread. He purred as he did so. Hans jumped as Rip screamed again. Schrodinger looked up from his half-chewed towel sadly.

"Am I supposed to feel guilty listening to her? I think that this is my fault. I don't want Rip to be mad at me anymore. I promise I won't eat anymore of her socks, or her clothes. Make her stop screaming please." He begged. Truly, he had the mentality of a child. It reminded Hans of his son Franz. Memories and emotions flooded his mind. He was forced to sit down to clear his head. A few stray tears coursed down his cheeks, and he quickly wiped them away. Schrodinger swallowed his bit of towel and looked at Hans. "Do you want your towel back? I'm sorry I ated (sic) it." Schrodinger lamented.

"It's not that, you can keep the towel." They both could hear the troops parting ways and walking down the hallway. They were laughing and making inappropriate jokes at Rip's expense. "Why don't you go outside and play?" Light appeared behind the cat-boys eyes.

"Really! Okay!" he cried taking off in a flurry down the hallway. Hans walked down the corridor peering in to every room until he found the room that belonged to Rip. She lay in her bed; the blanket brought up to her chin, her raven black hair spread across the bed, covering her blanket. He could hear her cry softly; she muffled herself with her blanket.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"Yes, everything is fine, just leave me alone." She murmured curling up into a smaller ball.

"They did it again, didn't they?" he whispered raspily.

"Just leave me alone." She muttered.

"Is this how you cope with this?"

"Yes, now please just leave me alone, I need to sleep this off."

"Sleep it off?" he asked. She sat up. Her face was bruised and bloody. Her eyes were rimmed with red, and her cheeks were tear streaked.

"I sleep it off, that's what I do, now I ask you to please leave. I need to be left alone."

"Do you want me to hold you?" he asked knowing how sensitive women were, and hoping that would make her feel better. She gazed away and nodded lightly. Hans crawled into the small bed and put his arms around her. She cringed and twisted away. He had hit a bruise on her arm. He moved his hand and she leaned into him gently and closed her eyes. "How long have they been doing this?" there was no response, she was already asleep.

"Vell, Vell, vhat do ve have here?" Hans jumped, he didn't realize the major was standing in the corridor. "You're truly a lady's man." He remarked snidely. Rip rocked her head slightly and woke up in a daze. She had trouble focusing because her eyes were so banged up; she made a soft sound that sounded like a moan. Hans shook his head and ignored him. He pulled the girl closer to him but she refused and leaned onto his arm. "Do you know vhat ve do to lady's men like you?" he asked. Hans refused to reply. "Vell, Vell then can't reply? Ve'll just see vhat the doktor has to say about this." Hans lay the girl in her bed, and tucked her in tightly.

"I don't care what you have to say about this, this doesn't matter to me, I would rather be dead." Hans retorted. Them Major left the hallway and Hans stood in the doorway to see where he had gone, as he poked his head out; he looked to the left and as he turned to the right everything faded to black.

He didn't know what happened that night. He would find out later. He didn't feel anything when he woke up. That was the thing, he felt absolutely nothing, it was too awkward, strange, inexplicable. He rose from the 'operating table' and headed back down the hallway. He couldn't tell how much time had elapsed. He passed by Rip's room; she was sitting at her vanity table combing her long length of Cimmerian raven hair. Her eyes were swollen and puffy, her cheeks bloody, tear-streaked and bruised. He didn't feel anything though, no commiseration, no compassion, absolutely nothing. He merely gave her a short stare and continued down the hallway to his room. As he arrived he found the little cat-boy sitting on the stool, in the stance of a normal cat. His knees drawn up to his ears, his butt planted on the chair, hands in front of him. There was nothing inside of Hans that told him how to feel towards the cat-boy. Absolutely nothing, this would disturb him, if he had feelings. This was when he realized what had happened. He had lost his humanity, he had lost his emotions, and he had lost that fiber of his being that drew him to Cneajna. He had lost what made him a father. He sat on his bed and tried with every fiber in his being to draw something up from the once fertile well inside his soul. Yet, there was nothing, nothing for him to grasp and hold onto. Hans knew his fate. He would forever live as a beast among man. Nothing disturbed him anymore.

I do not own the Hellsing characters. Dok, Hans, Rip, Schrodinger, Major and the virginity clause belong to Koutha Hirano, and not me.

 Refers to a drawing by Deviant Artist SelenaH (Francesca Draconovich)

2 Refers to a drawing by Deviant Artist SelenaH (Francesca Draconovich)

3 Is Koutha Hirano's rule in Hellsing applied here, they are his characters, and since Rip and Hans weren't in the first series where this was not applied it is applied here according to OVA Episode one.