Thank you to everyone who put this story on their alert/favorite list, and to my reviewers. I hope all of you reading this find the story interesting so far – and will continue to think it is in the future – or at least entertaining (nonsensical?) enough to return for another chapter.
Please read, review, and enjoy! :)
I do not own Hellsing.
Amelia stopped to catch her breath behind a tree, covering her mouth with a hand to stifle her panting, even though the wind already drowned out the sound.
Her daily morning jogs were now coming in handy. If not for the regular exercise, she wouldn't have made it as far as she had. Unfortunately, this wasn't a jog, and she knew couldn't keep up the pace for much longer.
Listening for sounds of pursuit, she glanced at the trees around her. It was a good thing the moon was out; otherwise she would be running blind.
A disturbing thought came into her head as she rubbed at the bruised knee. If those guys are still chasing me, will they use flashlights to see, or will they have night-vision goggles? The latter was a possibility, considering the man she hit was wearing something hard over his face. But the mask was not the only observation she had made in the brief encounter.
In evading the projectile, she had noticed that the hidden sniper did not fire a bullet, but instead a tranquilizer dart. Whoever they were, they weren't trying to kill her; they wanted her alive and unconscious.
The horrors that could befall her at the hands of the attackers knotted her stomach, and drove her to push away from the tree and resume running. I can't get caught, or it's all over!
In her haste to run, she felt her leg catch on a fallen tree branch. With a jean-clad limb ensnared, she unceremoniously fell forward, sending a stab of pain through her already injured knee when it hit the ground.
With a grunt, she scrambled back onto her tired and now aching legs.
It was then that she saw the dark form move out from behind the tree in front of her. Even in the dim light, it was easy to make out the gun leveled at her head.
Amelia made a startled noise, hands raised defensively.
"Don't move," a masculine voice warned as the figure stepped closer, moonlight illuminating his face. The wind carried the faint smell of cigarettes.
Pausing a few feet away, the stranger lowered his gun. "Amelia Seward?"
"How do you know who I am? What do you people want with me?" Amelia demanded, fear heightening her voice. Talking to strangers was uncomfortable for her, but if it was a choice between trying to reason her way out of this situation and getting shot or kidnapped…
"I apologize for startling you, I thought… I work for an organization that serves the Queen and country." The man's brows furrowed at the teenager's panicked expression, and he took note of her heavy breathing. "You were expecting someone else." The gun was raised again, but not in her direction. "Someone's following you?" He lowered his voice and looked into the trees surrounding them.
"I was attacked by a hooded man. Someone hiding in the trees had a tranquilizer gun. I – I think they're still here." She took a step backward when the man stepped forward. As far as she was concerned, he could be the accomplice.
Noticing her suspicion, the middle-aged man let out an impatient sigh. "I'm not with whoever is chasing you, and I don't mean you any harm. I heard a gunshot and came to investigate." The man seemed to be staring at something behind her, and he motioned for her to come closer.
She inched forward, but kept a decent amount of space between them.
"My name is Clive Richards, and I am from the Hellsing Organization. Remember both of those names." He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a business card, handing it to her. "Keep this."
Richards? Is he Mr. Richards' son – the one visiting from London? She cautiously closed the space between them and took the card, glancing at the contact information before slipping it into her pants pocket.
"I was sent here to escort you to London, where you will be under Hellsing's protection, but it seems someone else has plans for you."
Now Amelia could hear sounds over the wind, a few shouts and the stomping of heavy feet.
"There's no more time. I'm sorry things could not have gone more smoothly." Clive sent her a sympathetic look. "You need to run as far away from Hague as you can. Get to London, and call the number on the card I gave you. Hellsing will take care of you." He reached for her shoulder and gave it a small push in the direction she had been running before their encounter.
Amelia held back the urge to scream and pull at her hair in frustration. She didn't really understand what was happening or why the man kept mentioning this Hellsing group's concern for her – she'd never even heard of such an organization! Mr. Richards' son was mistaken, and so were the people who had attacked her. Everyone had her confused with another person.
When she didn't move, a hand waved frantically at her. "Go! Now!"
Reluctantly, Amelia turned her back on the man and ran, leaving him to deal with her pursuers.
Clive Richards let out a long breath. Pulling out a second gun, he surveyed the darkness around him.
It wasn't long before four dark shapes detached themselves from the trees. One wore a cloak with the hood up while the other three dressed in military clothing; all carried firearms. One held a sniper rifle at the ready.
"Who are you?" Clive demanded, holding his guns steady and pointed at the men. Hopefully he would be able to buy enough time for Amelia to escape to a safe location. If he could make it out of here alive, he might be able to glean some information from the mysterious men as well.
The sniper shifted the weapon in his hands, and a red bandage around his upper arm caught Clive's eye. A swastika.
I knew these men were trouble judging by their appearance, but Nazis? What would they want Amelia for?
"Captain?" One of the Nazi soldiers turned to a figure whose presence Clive had not noticed. The man was broad-shouldered, similarly dressed in uniform and cap, and gave off a dangerous air. As if his height alone were not unnerving, his belt was strapped with firearms and a hunting knife. The Captain regarded Clive for a moment, and then gave an almost imperceptible nod to the soldiers.
Clive fired his guns a second before the Nazi gunmen, simultaneously moving behind a thick trunk for some cover from their return fire.
One of the soldiers fell, and another shouted in pain as a bullet punctured his thigh. The others continued firing their weapons, indifferent towards their dead and injured comrades.
Four against one.
A dark blur shot past the tree Clive was hiding behind, and he had only a second to register the back of the flapping coat belonging to the man addressed as Captain, before he disappeared in the direction Amelia had run off in.
His speed is practically inhuman, Clive noted, eyes wide in astonishment.
Three against one… If the injured soldier didn't pass out.
Who – or what – are these guys? he silently questioned as he sucked in a determined breath, ready to return fire.
"Uh!" There was a sudden, burning pain in his abdomen. Looking down, he realized he had been shot. The grey of his coat and shirt were quickly turning dark red around his stomach, sticking to his skin. He tasted copper and dropped to his knees, clenching his jaw against the pain. They were surrounding him.
There was the sound of crunching bark, and another bullet grazed his left shoulder. The gun in his right hand clattered to the ground.
Reaching inside his pocket for a tracking beacon, he found the small device and curled his free hand around it, a blue light blinking on.
Sorry Mum, but I think I'm going to be late for dinner.
Leaning around the tree trunk, he unloaded the rest of his magazine.
