Order 22: Darkness Falls
Disclaimer: I do not own any original Hellsing Characters.
Shivaren walked towards the building where his master's subordinates were staying. The werewolf, Devarious, was slung over his shoulder. He really was looking forward to studying this creature. In order to find out how it ticked he would have to cut it open, without any sort of tranquilizer of course. He walked into the main hall and saw one of the cowards whom his master was forced to stomach.
The man licked his lips and swallowed hard when he saw. "Ah, sir?"
He had a smile on his face that was a tell tale sign of nervousness. "What is it?"
"There's someone here to see you. He says that you are to meet him in the m- m- main chamber."
Shivaren looked at the man and said, "Oh, well I should congratulate you for telling me."
The man's face broke into a deep smile until he saw the look of pure ecstasy on Shivaren's face. Shivaren's claws pierced through the man's face in blurred motion.
He them proceeded to go to the main chamber. It was a dark circular torch lighted room with chairs all around. On one of those chairs sat a tall black man. He wore a general uniform and his head was shaved. "Well at least you obtained the main objective. That alone is why you're not being shipped back to our master; nailed into a coffin."
The man's voice was deep; very deep and commanding. Shivaren said, "What's the problem? I got the job done, didn't I?"
"Yea, you got job done...but in the process you destroyed nine hundred special forces soldiers, many by your own hand. None of them are going to be easy to replace. If you hadn't have gotten the werewolf, this would have been the worst loss since Incognito's little coup. If you can remember, his job was getting those soldiers, and bringing them back to us. All you had to do was slip in, get the werewolf, and slip out. You made a huge mess out of this situation. That is why our master has decided to dispatch me to act as your advisor. And just to let you know, I've been given permission to relieve you of command, should you act so recklessly again."
Shivaren felt his back straiten. His master did not trust him any more? Oh well, he would just have to prove he could be more careful. What was wrong with having a little fun? It would have been boring to have just sneaked in. Oh well, he could not change it.
"So what's your name?"
"Corvine. Frank M. Corvine."
Integra sat at her desk when Walter came walking in. "What is it, Walter?"
He looked reluctant, but finally said, "This just came from America," he handed it to and continued, "I think you should look at the sender."
She looked first at the flap of the envelope. It had the seal of the Paranormal Division, an Eagle with a shield over its chest and lightning in one talon and a sword in the other, pressed upon it. She then looked at the front. The moment she saw the name of the author she nearly choked.
"James Ryan Masterson; the leader of the Paranormal Division!!"
"Yes, sir. And you know that if he is writing it, then he's very upset."
That was correct. The last time he had written a letter himself had been when Iscariot had dispatched agents into his country and nearly killed five-hundred of his men. He was not lazy; that she knew for a fact. He just was usually too busy to take the time to write a letter.
Bloody hell, she thought. He might well try to strangle her. It was probably just a silly story, but many people said he had come close to choking the life out of Maxwell before one of his bodyguards managed to pull him off.
Walter then proceeded to take out another two letters. "This one comes from Section XIII of the Vatican, and this one comes from the Round Table Conference. I believe all three are very important."
She opened the Paranormal Division's first. It read: Dear, Integra Wingates Hellsing
In response to your loss of agent Devarious, I will meet at the National Art Gallery at three o'clock sharp on Wednesday January 16. I expect an explanation.
Signed,
James Ryan Masterson, Head of the
United States of America's
Paranormal Division
He had been short and to the point. It was a cold, calculated letter. The lack of title showed that he was furious at the loss of his operative; furious enough to have left even the slightest bit of courtesy out of the door. She then turned to the one from Iscariot.
It read: Dear, Sir Integra Wingates Hellsing
As a prelude to fast coming winter season I believe a visit to the National Art Gallery is perhaps in order. My invitation is extended to you at five o'clock on January 19. I hope to see there.
Signed,
Father Enrico Maxwell, Head of the
Vatican Special Section XIII, the
Iscariot Organization, Hit Squad
She would meet him there and knock his teethe out of his mouth. The stupid little bastard knew that his last stunt had not left him on good terms with her, and was probably trying to smooth things over.
She then went to the letter from the Knights. It read: Sir Integra Wingates Hellsing
You are to report to a round table meeting at noon January 22. The location will be at my estate, seeing as how poorly you defend yours. How your failure to protect your mansion will be punished is one of the many issues that we will be discussing. Do not be late.
Signed,
Sir Author Penwood, head of the
Knights of the Round Table
Her fist thudded across the table. Three diplomatic meetings in the course of nine days. The only way this could get any worse is if she were fired. Alucard suddenly walked through the walls.
"Bloody hell, Alucard! You do not just walk through walls on people!"
She suddenly saw the look in his eyes. He looked hurt. He suddenly took out a brown folder. "I thought you might want to take a look at this master. It was the information the insider gave me. Are you on edge master? It's so human to snap at the innocent. Maybe you need a little bit of a time out for throwing a tantrum."
He laughed and his smile was as dark and malicious as they came. She sat there wondering. Was that look real or just another mind-game? She had learned to never trust him. He was as deceitful and misleading as he was powerful. But that look had been genuine. There was certainly more to the vampire in red than met the eye, but that had been obvious from the day she had met him. Could it be that he felt some sort of bizarre attachment to her? It couldn't be love. A thing like Alucard could never be capable of love. Or could he?
"I almost forgot what with the letters and all, sir, to tell that the guest you were expecting has arrived."
"Send him in."
Alucard went into the cellar where he stayed, took out his gun and shot himself in the head. That was his punishment for showing any sort of emotion. What was wrong with him? He was totally devoid of all emotion, except for the lust for revenge, the love of tormenting people, the feeling of power over others, and control. He had not felt any truly human emotion in at least hundred or more years. Yet now something was creeping into him. Integra had created it somehow, and it was causing him to show remorse on the battlefield.
"See what happens when you stay with humans for too long Alucard? You become just like them."
Alucard turned to see Havoc, adorned in the same attire he always wore. "So, you fell like you can go to anywhere you like?"
"No, actually I have an invitation. You try so hard to beat those emotions into nothingness Alucard, I can see, but you'll never win. Only if you somehow escape will you be free. Good luck..."
He shifted into nothingness. Alucard couldn't help but have a sense of de'ja'vu. It was almost as if he had had a similar conversation with the vampire. But where could that have been?
Devarious woke up feeling groggy. He was still tired after the previous night. Oh well, he thought, it's not like it's all that uncommon.
The wolf part of him never slept. He suddenly felt his instincts start to churn. This was not Hellsing Manor. "So, you're finally awake. Well it's about time."
He looked up and saw that the owner of the voice was a vampire with shoulder length blond hair and deep red eyes. He could smell that the scent was the same as the one who attacked Seres. "Who are you?" he demanded.
"I, little wolf, am the one who will study you. My first subject will be to see how long you can withstand torture. I will stop if you call me master."
He took out a whip and began to flay Devarious...
Integra walked towards the National Art Gallery. It was January 16, and she was not looking forward to the meeting witch would ensue. James Ryan Masterson stood outside of the gallery. He was a tall man, around six feet tall, who had blond hair and green eyes. He wore a grey business suit, with a yellow tie.
"Ah, you're here," he said coldly, "Let's get this over with, shall we. I have some important matters to attend to."
The walked over to the cafeteria area. It had been cleared of all civilian personnel just for this meeting.
"First thing's first. How on earth did you manage to lose agent Devarious?"
"We were attacked. An operative of the FREAK group slipped in and kidnapped your operative during the ensuing chaos. It's your own fault for sending in an adolescent werewolf. Now, I have a question for you. What were your true motives for sending him here? I know it wasn't just a token of good will. So, tell me the real reason."
"For quite some time now, the Paranormal Division has been trying to find a way to use werewolves against the undead. Devarious is the first agent of his kind. We needed a way to make sure he was capable, but at the same time, not killed in the process. Your country seemed like the best bet."
She felt a wave of fury crash through her. She, however, managed to master emotions quickly. How dare they use them as a guinea pig? "This meeting is at end." She said more coldly than he had.
As she turned to leave, however, she heard him say, "I've heard that your entire army was decimated by the attack. Perhaps I could offer some assistance."
"What are you proposing?"
"A joint union in the battle against the FREAK organization."
"You have no claims on them. Now, leave this country if you want to live."
"That's where you're wrong, Integra." He took out a small brown folder. "This is Agent Byres de'Ramsey." He held up a picture of a small picture of a man with black hair, and dark eyes. "He was one of our top spies and, at the time, was stationed in South America. He found something out. What that is we do not know, for you see he was found in Arizona, in a toppled over car, with all the blood sucked out of him. All information he carried with him was burned, so we have no evidence what the information he so desperately wanted to tell us about was."
He was silent for a moment, allowing the effect of the words to sink in. He then continued, "I've pulled some strings and managed to get the O.K. to transfer two divisions of our soldiers to you. I hope you will take this as an apology for our deceit."
"I agree." She said, gladly. He wasn't a conniving person. He just wanted what was best for his country, as did she.
When he left, the relations between the two groups were stable. She feared that that was the only good thing that would come out of her meetings would come out of her diplomatic meetings.
Her biggest concern was the meeting with Maxwell. If he brought Anderson with him there would be no way to avoid a battle between him and Alucard. That would shame her Organization even more than it already had been.
Seres lay in her room. It had been a day or so since she woke up from her coma. She felt her mind continually going into a loop of the attack. He had seemed so little of a threat that she had walked into like a blind man into a cliff. Her body was shaking, she realized. He had been more powerful than she had ever anticipated. It had left a deep fear in her. A fear witch would not stop churning through her stomach.
Corvine sat in a high backed chair listening to classic music. The artist he was listening to currently was Amadeus Mozart. It was being played off of a record. He loved to listen to the classics of music. Music, for him, was an art to be cherished above all others. He loved the arts. Music, pictures, literature, acting. They were something he had always loved. He heard a scream pierce through the sound of the record. Corvine rolled his eyes back. That psychopath was practicing what he called art. In a twisted way Corvine was able to see why no one disobeyed the creature. He had always had a sort of respect for people who could do that. His inclusion into his master's inner circle had not been by any choice of his, but he would do his job, which included making sure that fool did not make a mess of things again. That fledgling of his Sophie, had finally returned at nine o'clock. She seemed competent enough. So what was she planning? He filed that away to the back of his head. It wasn't important at the moment. The time for bringing their master's grand scheme into fruition was nearly here. Soon they would have to relocate and begin their preparations.
Author's Note: This chapter is a basic setting up chapter. No, the story is not anywhere close to finishing. There are going to a great many more chapters and battles before this is finished. I'm also considering making a follow-up story. For the time being, there are still a lot of mysteries to solve; including the true motives of Devarious, Havoc, Corvine, and many other characters.
Disclaimer: I do not own any original Hellsing Characters.
Shivaren walked towards the building where his master's subordinates were staying. The werewolf, Devarious, was slung over his shoulder. He really was looking forward to studying this creature. In order to find out how it ticked he would have to cut it open, without any sort of tranquilizer of course. He walked into the main hall and saw one of the cowards whom his master was forced to stomach.
The man licked his lips and swallowed hard when he saw. "Ah, sir?"
He had a smile on his face that was a tell tale sign of nervousness. "What is it?"
"There's someone here to see you. He says that you are to meet him in the m- m- main chamber."
Shivaren looked at the man and said, "Oh, well I should congratulate you for telling me."
The man's face broke into a deep smile until he saw the look of pure ecstasy on Shivaren's face. Shivaren's claws pierced through the man's face in blurred motion.
He them proceeded to go to the main chamber. It was a dark circular torch lighted room with chairs all around. On one of those chairs sat a tall black man. He wore a general uniform and his head was shaved. "Well at least you obtained the main objective. That alone is why you're not being shipped back to our master; nailed into a coffin."
The man's voice was deep; very deep and commanding. Shivaren said, "What's the problem? I got the job done, didn't I?"
"Yea, you got job done...but in the process you destroyed nine hundred special forces soldiers, many by your own hand. None of them are going to be easy to replace. If you hadn't have gotten the werewolf, this would have been the worst loss since Incognito's little coup. If you can remember, his job was getting those soldiers, and bringing them back to us. All you had to do was slip in, get the werewolf, and slip out. You made a huge mess out of this situation. That is why our master has decided to dispatch me to act as your advisor. And just to let you know, I've been given permission to relieve you of command, should you act so recklessly again."
Shivaren felt his back straiten. His master did not trust him any more? Oh well, he would just have to prove he could be more careful. What was wrong with having a little fun? It would have been boring to have just sneaked in. Oh well, he could not change it.
"So what's your name?"
"Corvine. Frank M. Corvine."
Integra sat at her desk when Walter came walking in. "What is it, Walter?"
He looked reluctant, but finally said, "This just came from America," he handed it to and continued, "I think you should look at the sender."
She looked first at the flap of the envelope. It had the seal of the Paranormal Division, an Eagle with a shield over its chest and lightning in one talon and a sword in the other, pressed upon it. She then looked at the front. The moment she saw the name of the author she nearly choked.
"James Ryan Masterson; the leader of the Paranormal Division!!"
"Yes, sir. And you know that if he is writing it, then he's very upset."
That was correct. The last time he had written a letter himself had been when Iscariot had dispatched agents into his country and nearly killed five-hundred of his men. He was not lazy; that she knew for a fact. He just was usually too busy to take the time to write a letter.
Bloody hell, she thought. He might well try to strangle her. It was probably just a silly story, but many people said he had come close to choking the life out of Maxwell before one of his bodyguards managed to pull him off.
Walter then proceeded to take out another two letters. "This one comes from Section XIII of the Vatican, and this one comes from the Round Table Conference. I believe all three are very important."
She opened the Paranormal Division's first. It read: Dear, Integra Wingates Hellsing
In response to your loss of agent Devarious, I will meet at the National Art Gallery at three o'clock sharp on Wednesday January 16. I expect an explanation.
Signed,
James Ryan Masterson, Head of the
United States of America's
Paranormal Division
He had been short and to the point. It was a cold, calculated letter. The lack of title showed that he was furious at the loss of his operative; furious enough to have left even the slightest bit of courtesy out of the door. She then turned to the one from Iscariot.
It read: Dear, Sir Integra Wingates Hellsing
As a prelude to fast coming winter season I believe a visit to the National Art Gallery is perhaps in order. My invitation is extended to you at five o'clock on January 19. I hope to see there.
Signed,
Father Enrico Maxwell, Head of the
Vatican Special Section XIII, the
Iscariot Organization, Hit Squad
She would meet him there and knock his teethe out of his mouth. The stupid little bastard knew that his last stunt had not left him on good terms with her, and was probably trying to smooth things over.
She then went to the letter from the Knights. It read: Sir Integra Wingates Hellsing
You are to report to a round table meeting at noon January 22. The location will be at my estate, seeing as how poorly you defend yours. How your failure to protect your mansion will be punished is one of the many issues that we will be discussing. Do not be late.
Signed,
Sir Author Penwood, head of the
Knights of the Round Table
Her fist thudded across the table. Three diplomatic meetings in the course of nine days. The only way this could get any worse is if she were fired. Alucard suddenly walked through the walls.
"Bloody hell, Alucard! You do not just walk through walls on people!"
She suddenly saw the look in his eyes. He looked hurt. He suddenly took out a brown folder. "I thought you might want to take a look at this master. It was the information the insider gave me. Are you on edge master? It's so human to snap at the innocent. Maybe you need a little bit of a time out for throwing a tantrum."
He laughed and his smile was as dark and malicious as they came. She sat there wondering. Was that look real or just another mind-game? She had learned to never trust him. He was as deceitful and misleading as he was powerful. But that look had been genuine. There was certainly more to the vampire in red than met the eye, but that had been obvious from the day she had met him. Could it be that he felt some sort of bizarre attachment to her? It couldn't be love. A thing like Alucard could never be capable of love. Or could he?
"I almost forgot what with the letters and all, sir, to tell that the guest you were expecting has arrived."
"Send him in."
Alucard went into the cellar where he stayed, took out his gun and shot himself in the head. That was his punishment for showing any sort of emotion. What was wrong with him? He was totally devoid of all emotion, except for the lust for revenge, the love of tormenting people, the feeling of power over others, and control. He had not felt any truly human emotion in at least hundred or more years. Yet now something was creeping into him. Integra had created it somehow, and it was causing him to show remorse on the battlefield.
"See what happens when you stay with humans for too long Alucard? You become just like them."
Alucard turned to see Havoc, adorned in the same attire he always wore. "So, you fell like you can go to anywhere you like?"
"No, actually I have an invitation. You try so hard to beat those emotions into nothingness Alucard, I can see, but you'll never win. Only if you somehow escape will you be free. Good luck..."
He shifted into nothingness. Alucard couldn't help but have a sense of de'ja'vu. It was almost as if he had had a similar conversation with the vampire. But where could that have been?
Devarious woke up feeling groggy. He was still tired after the previous night. Oh well, he thought, it's not like it's all that uncommon.
The wolf part of him never slept. He suddenly felt his instincts start to churn. This was not Hellsing Manor. "So, you're finally awake. Well it's about time."
He looked up and saw that the owner of the voice was a vampire with shoulder length blond hair and deep red eyes. He could smell that the scent was the same as the one who attacked Seres. "Who are you?" he demanded.
"I, little wolf, am the one who will study you. My first subject will be to see how long you can withstand torture. I will stop if you call me master."
He took out a whip and began to flay Devarious...
Integra walked towards the National Art Gallery. It was January 16, and she was not looking forward to the meeting witch would ensue. James Ryan Masterson stood outside of the gallery. He was a tall man, around six feet tall, who had blond hair and green eyes. He wore a grey business suit, with a yellow tie.
"Ah, you're here," he said coldly, "Let's get this over with, shall we. I have some important matters to attend to."
The walked over to the cafeteria area. It had been cleared of all civilian personnel just for this meeting.
"First thing's first. How on earth did you manage to lose agent Devarious?"
"We were attacked. An operative of the FREAK group slipped in and kidnapped your operative during the ensuing chaos. It's your own fault for sending in an adolescent werewolf. Now, I have a question for you. What were your true motives for sending him here? I know it wasn't just a token of good will. So, tell me the real reason."
"For quite some time now, the Paranormal Division has been trying to find a way to use werewolves against the undead. Devarious is the first agent of his kind. We needed a way to make sure he was capable, but at the same time, not killed in the process. Your country seemed like the best bet."
She felt a wave of fury crash through her. She, however, managed to master emotions quickly. How dare they use them as a guinea pig? "This meeting is at end." She said more coldly than he had.
As she turned to leave, however, she heard him say, "I've heard that your entire army was decimated by the attack. Perhaps I could offer some assistance."
"What are you proposing?"
"A joint union in the battle against the FREAK organization."
"You have no claims on them. Now, leave this country if you want to live."
"That's where you're wrong, Integra." He took out a small brown folder. "This is Agent Byres de'Ramsey." He held up a picture of a small picture of a man with black hair, and dark eyes. "He was one of our top spies and, at the time, was stationed in South America. He found something out. What that is we do not know, for you see he was found in Arizona, in a toppled over car, with all the blood sucked out of him. All information he carried with him was burned, so we have no evidence what the information he so desperately wanted to tell us about was."
He was silent for a moment, allowing the effect of the words to sink in. He then continued, "I've pulled some strings and managed to get the O.K. to transfer two divisions of our soldiers to you. I hope you will take this as an apology for our deceit."
"I agree." She said, gladly. He wasn't a conniving person. He just wanted what was best for his country, as did she.
When he left, the relations between the two groups were stable. She feared that that was the only good thing that would come out of her meetings would come out of her diplomatic meetings.
Her biggest concern was the meeting with Maxwell. If he brought Anderson with him there would be no way to avoid a battle between him and Alucard. That would shame her Organization even more than it already had been.
Seres lay in her room. It had been a day or so since she woke up from her coma. She felt her mind continually going into a loop of the attack. He had seemed so little of a threat that she had walked into like a blind man into a cliff. Her body was shaking, she realized. He had been more powerful than she had ever anticipated. It had left a deep fear in her. A fear witch would not stop churning through her stomach.
Corvine sat in a high backed chair listening to classic music. The artist he was listening to currently was Amadeus Mozart. It was being played off of a record. He loved to listen to the classics of music. Music, for him, was an art to be cherished above all others. He loved the arts. Music, pictures, literature, acting. They were something he had always loved. He heard a scream pierce through the sound of the record. Corvine rolled his eyes back. That psychopath was practicing what he called art. In a twisted way Corvine was able to see why no one disobeyed the creature. He had always had a sort of respect for people who could do that. His inclusion into his master's inner circle had not been by any choice of his, but he would do his job, which included making sure that fool did not make a mess of things again. That fledgling of his Sophie, had finally returned at nine o'clock. She seemed competent enough. So what was she planning? He filed that away to the back of his head. It wasn't important at the moment. The time for bringing their master's grand scheme into fruition was nearly here. Soon they would have to relocate and begin their preparations.
Author's Note: This chapter is a basic setting up chapter. No, the story is not anywhere close to finishing. There are going to a great many more chapters and battles before this is finished. I'm also considering making a follow-up story. For the time being, there are still a lot of mysteries to solve; including the true motives of Devarious, Havoc, Corvine, and many other characters.