Thank you to everyone who has put this story on their alert/favorite list!
Read, review, and enjoy! :)
I do not own Hellsing.
Even with adrenaline fueling her limbs, Amelia's pace had definitely slowed. Gunfire sounded behind her, and it took all of her self-control to not look back. An uncontrollable sob escaped her lips as she blinked back tears.
Keep running. Don't look back. Don't think of anything else. It was a statement easier said than done. There was a soft beating noise, and at first she thought it was her heart pounding in her ears. The noise was growing louder with each passing second, and to her horror, she realized it was coming from behind. Her muscles tensed and she risked a backward glance, just as something solid connected with her stomach. She had unknowingly run in to someone's fist. The wind knocked out of her, she leaned forward in an attempt to breath.
The fist loosened for a moment before clenching the fabric at her stomach, shoving her backward and into the ground. Spots danced in her vision as the back of her head hit the earth.
Coughing, she raised her eyes to the man hovering over her, taking note of the white hair spilling out from under his cap. Red eyes seemed to glow in the darkness, boring into her. Does a human with such an appearance really exist? It's unnatural and…disturbing. His skin was too tan for that of an albino, and his eyes were a shade too dark to be considered pink.
Gasping at the pain in her gut, she grabbed his wrist in a feeble attempt to alleviate the pressure pushing her into the ground. Through the coat she could feel the hardened muscles of his forearm. It was enough to let her know that she had no chance of winning against his physical strength.
"Let… me… go…!" She struggled to no avail, trying to twist out of his grip. The man did not reply, but in one swift motion, lifted her up and over his shoulder.
He stood up, and she instinctively grabbed a fistful of his coat. This guy is tall. Too tall.
Getting over his height, she swung her leg, intending to kick him as hard as she could manage in her uncomfortable position.
A firm hand caught her ankle before she could do any harm and began to squeeze.
"Owowowowow!" Amelia hissed as the man began carrying her back the way she had come.
After a few more seconds of pain, the man released her ankle. Even though she couldn't see it, she was sure he was giving her an over-the-shoulder look that warned against further struggling.
"W-where are you taking me? What are you going to do?" No answer. Either he was intentionally ignoring her, or he was mute. It was most likely the first.
For the next few minutes they continued on in silence. Amelia chose not to struggle. The man's display of strength was unnerving to say the least, and she would probably have a better chance of escaping if she wasn't in his iron grip or thrown over his shoulder like a disobedient child.
A foul stench permeated her senses, and her captor stopped walking. It was a welcome respite from the discomfort of the man's shoulder jabbing into her sore gut at each step. But the smell… She swallowed heavily and looked around.
There were dark patches in the grass, and numerous bullet holes in the trunk of the closest tree. A figure lay unmoving beside it.
Amelia felt her heart beat speed up and she looked away. Clive Richards. He… Bile rose in her throat, and she rubbed at her eyes, trying to remove the dark and bloody image.
"Captain," a strained voice spoke from behind her.
The Captain – apparently the man who was carrying her – turned, giving Amelia a view of another corpse a few feet away. She noticed the black emblem on his sleeve. What, they're Nazis? Nazis are after me?! No, this is ridiculous. Why would Nazis come after me? The smell was stronger now that she was facing death, and she pinched her nose and shut her eyes at the carnage.
"Some tranquilizers left," the unseen speaker panted in a thick German accent. "Take them… The others, are dead…" He gave a wet cough; it didn't sound good.
"… Bastard activated… a tracking device... emergency… code…" Another cough. It was possible the man was dying, his voice growing softer and words cutting off as he continued. "They… send operatives, and… Heh…"
There was a sickening gasp, and Amelia found herself wanting more than anything for the man to die or pass out – anything to stop the noise.
"Si-sieg –"
An abrupt silence washed over the area. For a couple of seconds, the wind calmed.
The Captain crouched down, and from her position she could feel his arm extend. Plastic or glass clinked together, and then he stood back up. The hand that had been resting on her back grabbed her coat collar, pulling her off the shoulder and nearly choking her in the process. His hand did not release her collar when she was placed on the ground in front of him.
Something glinted in the dim light: a small dart in the man's large hand.
Instinctively, she took a step backward, and her leg hit something. Her muscles tensed, and it felt like her stomach flipped. The grip on her coat tightened, but her eyes remained on the dart's needle as it was moved closer.
Tranquilizer dart… Where's he going to stab that thing? Her hands protectively clamped around her neck.
The Captain removed his hand from her collar and grabbed her left forearm, her coat sleeve bunching around her wrist.
No, no! I can't stop him! No matter what I do, something's exposed! She removed her hands from her neck and held the man's sleeve tightly.
"Please! Please don't!" Needles terrified her. They ranked second after conversing with strangers on her list of fears. "I promise I won't do anything! Please!"
The hand with the dart paused at her words, and she cringed at the tranquilizer's close proximity. Her panicked eyes rose to meet those of the Captain's, pleading with him to not use the tranquilizer.
Two red orbs stared back, the man's face emotionless. His grip tightened on her wrist and he raised the tranquilizer to the moonlight so that she could see it clearly, his eyes never leaving hers. Slowly, the dart was tucked in the safety of his coat pocket. Although he didn't speak, the message was understood: if she attempted anything, the tranquilizer would be put to use.
A cool light suddenly shone from behind her and she looked over her shoulder, only to remember an instant too late that there was a corpse at her feet. Nevertheless, the shock at the sight of blue fire burning around the body kept her transfixed. Another blue burst appeared in her peripheral vision. The flames were unearthly, and unlike those of a regular fire, did not set light to the grass or trees, nor to her foot beside it.
In seconds, smoldering ash was the only evidence that the space had been occupied by something more.
Having forgotten about the hand on her forearm, she stumbled forward when it gave a small tug. "Oof!" The Captain had crouched over, and her bruised stomach hit his shoulder.
He let go of her wrist and moved a hand to her lower back, keeping her balanced as he lifted her off the ground. The position was painfully familiar; what she did not expect was for the Captain to take off at the pace he did. It wasn't a casual walk this time – it was a run. Though he sprinted at the speed of someone on an Olympic track team, his movement was too graceful for the average person. Not even the darkness was enough to slow his progress.
The wind had picked up again, blowing strands of her hair in her face. She closed her eyes tightly. How can this man run so fast? It's not normal!
The Captain's hand pressed harder on her back, ensuring she did not fall off, and she could swear his speed increased.