Singularity
Order: Returned
T8K is an up and coming name in the growing field of bio-engineering and genetics. Founded two years ago by several grad students and their professor it had over the course of a few lucky breaks and diligent hard work, become much sought after. Their last breakthrough in the creation of a synthetic plastic/cloth material from genetically altered plants had left them flush with cash. Especially resistant to kinetic force as well as being sturdy and lightweight, Synthguard was now sported by many well equipped military and para-military forces the world over. Including those Hellsing Soldiers now tearing down their headquarter's hallways, exchanging gunfire with a variety of once living employees.
One Hellsing Operative however was taking a very different view of the situation. Thumbing through a report, she tossed it to the plush seat next to her as the car rounded a bend and the building came into view.
'This facility acts as both headquarters and warehouse for T8K and the materials they use for experiments. Similar to the materials found in the chip factory in that Hong Kong raid a couple months ago.' Integral reasoned, mulling over the information she had just absorbed. 'Meaning what's in here is not likely your average ganger turned undead. Whoever is running this raid MUST want to create more freeks, which implies that they know the process. It also implies that they have no set source of raw materials at this time. Thank heaven for small favors.'
"Lady Integra. We have arrived." The Rolls Royce came to a smooth stop at the driver's - Walter's – announcement, pulling up in front of a massive police cordon. Eyes swiftly surveying the scene, glasses flashing ever so menacingly with reflected glare, the Knight stepped out of the car and onto the pavement.
A dozen police cars had formed a circular barrier around the building, with yellow warning tape and black and yellow orange traffic barriers guarding the spaces between cars. Policemen milled nervously in the night, pacing back and forth. Those that held shotguns and rifles clutched them nervously, protectively. The ones with side arms had the holsters unclipped if the weapons were not drawn already.
They had seen things. Impossible things.
Idly Integra noted there were no D-11 Command or Transport vehicles. That was odd given the nature of the situation. D-11 was hard pressed to match freeks, but they would have normally been summoned anyway.
A man in a Captain's uniform approached the car, puzzlement and a slight bit of fear evident in the man's face. By the time he reached her the Hellsing Family retainer had left the driver's seat and was present at her side, lanky form standing over both his master and the new arrival.
"Ma'am, I'm sorry, but this is a restricted area, I'm afraid you'll . . ."
"Captain. Are you in charge here?" Icy voice. No emotion.
"Yes, Ma'am, but you will have to . . ."
"You misunderstand, I am not a civilian. My name is Hellsing, and I am here to relieve you of command." Integra's tone brooked no argument as she stared down the officer.
For his part, the officer froze in fear. Hellsing. The name had done the rounds at the various precincts and bars officers favored. Stories of a cold eyed lady and a government spook unit that would descend on some of the most difficult situations, assume command, and neutralize the threat, only to vanish once the job had been completed. Usually after the police had suffered an unfortunate number of casualties. The Captain had had a bad enough feeling as to the operation already, what with initial squads encounter when they tried to enter the building. Two made it back out from the initial five.
"Ah, yes, Sir. I understand. My troops are already pulled back."
"I will be assuming overall command of the situation, including troops. They will be responding to my orders. But why have you pulled them back? Surely you have NOT contained the situation yet. I would not have been called had that been the case."
A frown marred her features, her voice tinged with disproval. Cowards had no place in any of Her Majesty's servants. The man fidgeted slightly.
"Ah, you see, another . . . well, speaking plainly, Ma'a . . . Sir, that other 'spook' group arrived, and we figured . . ."
" 'Other' spook group, captain? And what are you implying about my organization?" Integra's reply was instant and harsh, but the information just garnered sent her brain into overdrive.
According to the files she had been handed at her release several days ago, she had been given more than adequate funds to find, hire, and re-equip Hellsing to levels actually exceeding the organization's previous capacity. Already, inquires were being made within the various Round Table Organizations and the British Military as to who might be interested in joining such an operation.
But the Lady Knight was far more interested at present with finding out just who had survived the battle with Incognito, and subsequently been drafted unto Ceras' Command. Thus far, despite her efforts, she had not been able to contact or find her once and future subordinate. That, she supposed, was a mark in the young vampire's favor, though it hindered her efforts at rebuilding Hellsing. The hardened survivors would make an admirable core group upon which to build.
Yet here fate was tossing her a bone. Though Integra imagined Ceras would contact her once it became clear Hellsing was operating again, the Lady Knight was not willing to rush out and announce to every paranormal entity in London that the organization was back. This encounter would provide the ideal contact point.
Assuming, of course, that the other 'spook' group was in fact the splinter faction.
The officer's response broke her out of her chain of thoughts. "No . . . Nothing at all, I assure you, sir! Well, you see, we at the precinct, well, its obvious Hellsing is some kind of counter-terrorist thing, I mean, and well that other group that's been operating these past couple months is already here. You know, the ones that stopped the museum fight a few nights ago, and the subway before that, and the warehouse prior to that?"
"Are they? And did they just stop to inform you as they entered?" This time, there was tone to Integra's voice. The sarcasm was unmistakable.
At her side, Walter smirked and stifled a snort at the comment, idly imagining the strawberry blond waving cheerfully with a shouted 'Yo ho!' at the assembled officers as she and her team sauntered past, Harconnen strapped to her back.
The officer looked at the retainer oddly before continuing on.
"No sir. They, umm . . . well, we know they tend to impersonate D-11 or military units, but usually don't catch on until it's too late to stop them. They ran the northern blockade in a D-11 APC about ten minutes ago, and just crashed it into the side entrance. We called headquarters to see if one of the squads had been dispatched, and they said no, so I just figured it was a government order and they wanted it hush hush, so . . ."
"I see." Integra didn't know quite how to reply to that little bit of information.
'Where had they gotten an APC?' she thought, but shoved that thought aside when another thought hit her.
"Walter, adjust the radio unit to standard frequencies and use the standard operation ciphers."
"Yes, Lady Hellsing." The retainer reached through the open window of the Rolls, and fiddled with a knob on a broadcaster that rested in the front seat. Abruptly, static filled the air, and then resolved into battle chatter as the decoder did its job.
"Bravo! Bravo, Charlie lead here! East stairwell, sixth floor, we're tied up. Primary bolting down towards the basement, but he flooded the way with fodder. Taking time to get through, they've got autos."
A voice Integra didn't recognize sounded over the background din of a firefight.
"Charlie, Bravo lead. Third floor, northeast side. Sending Bonner and Ves to assist. They'll be hosing the stairwell entrance before entering."
That voice she did know. Corporal Stasi, leader of Team 5. One of her more able Squad Leaders. In an instant, she decided to let the scene unfold and not interfere. It would give her a chance to see exactly how well the group operated in her absence, and what kind of weapon Ceras had forged them into.
"What about Primary? You going after him?" Charlie lead called back, a note of hesitation in his voice.
"Negative, Charlie. Red Eyes and I are on his tail, he's in the subbasement and running for the sewer. Continue clearing floors and request back up as needed." The lackadaisical voice seemed to drift over the com, despite the firefight.
Another voice she recognized, Specialist Lackmay. Red Eyes would have to be Ceras, she guessed.
"Lackmay, Bravo. I can't reach Red Eyes. She's with you?"
"Red Eyes is fine, but her headset is in pieces. Combat damage from busting down a door. I'm relaying orders. Continue clearing floors, and be cautious about it."
"Alpha, Charlie Lead. Understood."
"Alpha, Bravo Lead. Likewise."
"Entering sewer now, contact will likely break up. Stasi, you're in charge. Red Eyes says to finish up and get out, as per usual."
"Re-engineer here. Third floor door. Engaging targets."
A distant krump sounded, the unmistakable noise of a grenade detonation.
"Clear Bonner?"
Integra paused at that name, idly remembering a brunette American with a penchant for explosives.
"Third floor landing, clear."
"Charlie, Re-eingineer. Clearing the stairwell using air burst pattern anti-personnel frags. There's gonna be a lot of shrapnel flying in a sec. Three count, enter after the third."
"Roger, Engineer. Charlie is out of the stairwell."
Three more distant explosions.
"Entering, nothing left. You shredded em."
"Bravo lead, done here. If you got your kills, we should be done."
"Roger. We checkout now, Stasi?"
"Yeah, head to the sewer. We really need to find a new way to leave these buildings."
"Like what? Drive out in your Hotwired APC? I don't think so . . ."
Accepting the mic from Walter's extended hand, Integra opened a channel. It wouldn't do to let them slip away before she could contact them, if indeed the sewers blocked transmissions.
"Corporal Stasi, this is Commander Integral Wingates Hellsing. Confirmation code Zebra-three-oh-tango-niner. Reply."
A moment of silence, followed by a burst of static.
"Ummm . . . for real?"
Integra practically face faulted.
"Shut up, Revlin. Sorry, sir, confirmation code received and acknowledge. Corporal Stasi at your servi . . . Crap! This guy isn't quite dead yet, Get off my leg, bugger, off my leg!" The sound of automatic weapons chatter hissed over the com, before a fourth floor window exploded in a spray of glass and lead, a zombie jerking like a puppet on strings before falling to the ground as machine gun fire tore apart its body.
"Stupid, brain dead, brain eating monty-python rejects . . . and not even a moose . . ." a half muttered, half whispered reply came over the band. The surrounding officers sweatdropped, ever so slightly. Had the coms box not been such a powerful unit, the mutter would have been indecipherable over normal static. A second later the voice resumed in a louder, more serious tone. "Situation is contained, sir, and we are exiting now. Is it safe for us to use an actual entrance, or are we still running covert?"
"We are authorized, Corporal. Use the main doors. I will be waiting."
"I'll send a runner for the Sergeant Ceras and Specialist Lackmay. They wen . . ."
"I am aware. I have been monitoring your conversation."
"Ah, yes Sir. Stasi to all squads, report to main entrance. Look alive, though. Just in case. Bonner, Ves, catch up with Alpha, give them the news".
It had taken only a few minutes before Hellsing's splinter faction met up with their recently released commander. As they emerged from the front doors, weapons out and ready, Integra took their measure.
'Hmm. Only about 15, far less than I thought. Stasi is alive, and so is Foreman. Lackmay, too, from the sound of it.' She thought, relieved that at least three of her more valued troopers had survived. 'Piecemeal gear, though. I wonder how Ceras has been paying them.'
The Corporal reached her, and gave a brisk salute.
"Sir Hellsing. All floors are confirmed clear. Trooper Ves and Specialist Bonner have gone after Specialist Lackmay and Sergeant Ceras. The status of the primary target is unknown, though I imagine it is dead or about to be." Stasi reported, holding his MP-5 across his chest. Around him, the other soldiers formed up into loose squads, weapons still at the ready.
"I see. Your men may disband. Who has been in charge in my absence?"
"Sergeant Victoria, Sir. I've been acting as second in command. We have 15 troopers currently battle ready, 3 out with injuries. Two have been killed in action."
"I will need a full report. Your men are dismissed after they recover the D-11 vechicle and return it. They are to report to Hellsing Hall tomorrow. You, however, shall remain."
"Sir! You heard the boss, now snap to!" Spinning on his jackbooted heel, Stasi barked the order and sent the other troopers back towards the abandoned APC in a flurry of salutes and flak jackets.
Ceras, Lackmay, and the runner team emerged from a manhole near the scene almost an hour later reeking of raw, black sewage and in a thoroughly curious mood. It would be expected for the four to be in foul tempers. Moods so foul that they probably would rival, but likely not surpass the sludge that clung to their gear, webbing, and clothes.
They were bitter, disgusted, and more than a little displeased. But they were also curious, excited, and nervous. One more so than the others. This operation, and every operation prior, had been under her guidance and imperative. Now that the commander had returned the subordinate was anxious and more than a little unsettled as to what her review would be.
Not to mention the fact that Ceras was uncertain of whether or not Integra would even approve of the independent actions, let alone her performance during the outings. It was highly probable that the Commander and other powers that be would take issue with a vampire leading an anti-vampire task force. Not to mention the litany of felonies she had committed in pursuit of her quarry.
"Red Eyes, I'll follow you to the Gates of Hell. On a good day, I'll storm them for ya. But never, ever again ask me to chase a freek through the sewer." Lackmay grimaced, taking off his dew rag, twisting the bandanna like black head cover to wring out some rather off colored water. "I don't think I'll ever get the smell out. Of me or my gear."
"The freek has been eliminated then, Sergeant?"
All four troopers startled and stiffened at the voice, but Ceras found herself first, spinning sharply on her heel and saluting.
"Yes, Sir. Specialist Lackmay put a round through his leg, and I finished him off, Sir." Ceras replied hastily as her mind spun, trying to figure out what she was going to say next. She knew her brief description was unnecessary, but hoped it might by a few seconds to process the situation.
'Shit, just my luck.' Ceras thought. A one in four chance of coming up on the side of the building Integra had parked on, and they hit it dead on. And didn't notice the Knight until after she had approached. 'So much for planning a response.'
"Don't bother to salute." Integra spoke, indicating the four troopers. "Sergeant, remain here, the rest of you are dismissed; the vehicle behind me will take you to Hellsing Hall. Get cleaned up and report tomorrow."
The three looked at Integra, then at their Sergeant, eyeing her nervously, unsure. They didn't want to leave a comrade behind, be it to the fates of the enemy, or an upset commanding officer.
Ceras inclined her head slightly at them, and they trudged off towards a waiting and recently summoned Hellsing APC. The brief exchange between the Sergeant and her men did not go unnoticed by the elder woman.
The Vampire was not the only one who didn't know where to start. To Integra, Ceras had always been something of a . . . well, not a trump card, but not a bad hand, either. A wild card, who could either lock up or turn the tide of a battle. Ceras had never been factored in as a crucial player in any of Hellsing's planned operations; never trained, and never used to her full potential, overshadowed as she was by the presence of her Master.
'A rather large mistake,' Integra noted, looking over her subordinate. Removed from the relative safety of the full organization, the nosferatu had obviously become a formidable leader and strong combatant. The loyalty of her men demonstrated that clearly, as had Corporal Stasi's brief run down of events given to her in the previous 15 minutes. But despite her inward pleasure at seeing the young woman excel, the Knight was at a loss for where to begin.
An uncomfortable silence filled the air between the two, even as the diesel engine of the APC roared to life and began its trip back to headquarters.
"Your men trust you, I see." Integra spoke.
"I . . . I'm sorry, Sir. I did not mean for them to look to me over you. I . . ." The words came out quicker than the Vampire would have liked, but they were truthful and somehow confident, even in her haste. Ceras had known in the back of her mind that Integra would be released eventually, and she would have to face her. Memory served to remind the ex-policewoman only of the elder's castigation and reprimands. Again, it appeared she had erred in Integra's eyes.
The knight cut her off, picking up on how the vampire had misread her previous statement.
"You misunderstand, Sergeant . . . no, Major, yes, Major Victoria. We have much to discuss, but now is neither the time, nor the place. But I will ease your mind in one regard. You have my respect, and . . . my appreciation. Meet back at Hellsing in three hours time; Stasi is already en route and I have let the rest of the men go. I expect a full debriefing at that time. And . . ." the Knight wrinkled her nose in distaste. "I suggest you wash yourself prior to arriving."
Paladin General Sigsmund of the Order Iscariot was a name known to even the most novice member of Section 13. The first of the regenerators, he terrorized the enemies of the Church during the Crusades of the last millennium, putting heretics, traitors, and undead to the sword with neither mercy nor qualm as he carved a bloody, if rather unremembered streak across history.
The nature of his death goes unrecorded among the moldy latin tomes and honor rolls of the Iscariot's stronghold library. When the Crusades came to a close and the fervor that inspired the massive martial undertakings disappeared, Sigsmund took a full legion of his personal, loyal troops east with him, promising to finish what the Crusades had started and what others had lost faith in.
But the Legio Righteous Order vanished before ever reaching its first promised stop, a city upon the River Nile. After five years, Section 13 pronounced Sigsmund as dead in the service of the church, and his legion as disbanded. And if it were not for the appearance of the Chronicles of the Righteous Order, the General Paladin would likely have remained a simple memory of the Iscariot.
The book first appeared, as near as Section 13 could determine, sometime during the Second World War. Nazi troops looted it from the private collection of a wealthy British tycoon, who had apparently acquired it from an importer located in Cairo. When the Reich fell, the book was returned to the tycoon, who sold it to the British museum in order to help recoup losses suffered during the war. It spent several decades lost amongst the archives and storage rooms of the great institution, until it was unveiled two months ago as part of a new exhibit on the Crusades.
Meanwhile, the Church Paladins had acquired a copy of the document, sans illustrations, from a raid on a Nazi cultist ceremony in France. According to the text, Sigsmund was not dead, but merely waiting for a time when his services would once more be required. He had left his legion and retreated to an abandoned temple within the sands of the Sahara, where he would slumber until awoken to enact Righteous Judgement once more.
Of what befell the Legio Righteous Order, nothing is written.
Or so Alexander Andersong and his team had been told. Their specific mission order was to recover the tome from the museum, and within it find the illustrations that apparently depicted the exact location of the Tomb of the General Paladin.
Section 13 was intent on resurrecting a sleeping hero. If the goals of the organization were to be made known to the world at large it would no doubt cause a great deal of concern amongst the older, more knowledgeable entities of the world.
And that concern would only be partially based on the thought of the Iscariot possibly regaining a champion. Paladin Sigsmund was something more, and at the same time, something less. Far less.
As it was only one of those entities knew of the intentions of the Iscariot, but soon more would learn. The Nox Praetor had waited centuries to impart its wisdom and wrath, to find someone worthy of its guidance.
In the battle in the museum, it had deduced the Iscariots intentions, being present at the conflict by simple coincidence and recognizing the book they both struggled for. Equally as important the Nox Praetor had found an individual it deemed worthy and even now it guarded her side.
Soon, it would make itself known, and all would be laid bare before this strange 'Hellsing'.
Ceras stretched her arms out in front of her, yawning widely as she tromped down the hallway, reveling in the familiar feel of the worn and polished dark wood floors and the warm breeze that seemed to blow down the corridor. The comforting scent of an expensive cigar wafted on the air currents, and she inhaled deeply, feeling muscles she hadn't know were clenched relax and go slack as she took in the gentle idiosyncrasies of her home.
Home. Hellsing.
She smiled at the thought before shifting in her new clothes, the black cargo pants still itchy and stiff, straight off the shelf of Hellsing's armory. Likewise she readjusted her brand new long sleeved loose fitting fatigue blue shirt, and shifted around her somewhat worn D-11 vest. Originally she had started wearing her old uniform just to fool police and officials at incident scenes but found it more serviceable and reassuring than her Hellsing outfit. The skirt was a bit less than practical when she was leading a charge. She had moved the Hellsing shoulder badge to the back of the vest between her shoulder blades and the vests pockets were filled out, but not bulging, with a few extra weapons clips. A rear draw holster sporting a new Desert Eagle, the warhammer from the museum clipped to a carbiner on her load bearing belt harness, and knife grip protruding from her new jackboots completed a more functional, practical, and less official look.
And she no longer smelled. A definite plus.
Integra hadn't let her into the Rolls for the ride back to Hellsing Hall, though Ceras could hardly blame her for the smell she bore. Besides, the Hall wasn't that far, and the night was pleasant enough. An easy lope had seen her there inside an hour, and two hours later, she had managed to rid herself of the awful smell.
It had given her time to reflect on the changes, both the ones she had wrought and the ones that were going to be worked by her returned commander. The initial change, her promotion to Major, was something she did not expect. Even more shocking was Integra's profession of respect. A woman she had put on a pedestal, one that she had seen in the qualities she herself desired, had raised her up.
In D-11 she had been the new guy, and a girl at that. Kitty as she had been named affectionately. She had hated it; she wanted to be taken seriously, wanted to stand by her comrades, wanted to protect those that she could. But they would not let her; too weak, too clumsy. Hellsing had been more of the same, unable to rid herself of the dual burdens of her vampire status and her weakness and hesitation before Alucard and Integra.
No more. In the vacuum of command Ceras had stepped forward and with no one to tell her she couldn't, and no one to look down on her or for her to hide behind, she had developed immensely.
An hour long shower had done wonders for Ceras' state of mind, as well as her smell. The past few revelations were but a trace of her self-created epiphany. A new force had been created over the past few weeks, and it was just beginning to realize its full strength. Ceras Victoria was a creature to be reckoned with. 'And,' Ceras thought, as she grasped the doorknob to Integra's office 'come Hell or high water, I'm not going back.'
Author's Notes:
Well, yet another chapter completed. I will say I was not particularly satisfied with this chapter in general but wanted to get it out of the way. The first scene especially was an experiement; I wanted to convey a sense of confusion and conflict, hence the lack of attribution to a lot of the com chatter. For the most part, it doesn't really matter who it is shouting about on the vox, so I decided to let it run on in that vein and see how the technique worked. If reviews note it as too confusing, I'll go back and change it. Additionally, I wasn't able to delve as deeply into Integra's character as I wanted, but I've set it up to do so next chapter. Other than that, Ceras has been promoted, Hellsing is reforming, and the Iscariot are trying to awaken a sleeping champion. Should be an interesting next couple of chapters. And, for those counting, one more chapter until Alucard struts once more upon the stage. And I can't wait to put the finishing touches on his reintroduction sequence . . . let's just say he and Ceras have a very interesting meeting.
Reviewer Responses:
Lady Blackmour: Again, a constructive and valued review. Glad you think I did the inner workings of Andersong well. It was an enjoyable scene to write. If I ever make up my mind to get a pre-reader, You'll definitely be on the top of the list, heck, if you don't mind, I may send you a couple parts of the next chapter I'm having trouble with for revision, if you don't mind. No guarntee, though, I'm far to lazy to be held to it.
Elijah Snow: Thanks for your wonderful review. I'm glad that you approve and find my story to be enjoyable. I do my best. The review really made my day, thanks.
Runemeister: Ah yes, AxC. In time. Expect no sudden revelations or epiphanies, once Alucard does reappear. Sudden, spontaneous declarations of undying affection are all well and good, but as with everything else in this story, expect it to be slow in developing.
Proles Draco: Thanks for the review, and noting the humor. I try and include at least one or two semi-amusing bits in each chapter. I guess that would be the manga influence speaking.
Seraphim 74: I plan on finishing this story, but Murphy may or may not interfere; if he does and I forsee his intervention, I'll post to that effect. That said, as evidence in some previous chapters, it has on occasion been three quarters of year between chapters.
As to the relative ease with which the Iscariot was dispatched, I tend to view it thusly. Iscariot is just like any other, similar operation, Hellsing included. It has its trump cards, such as the Hanging Judge, and it has its rank and file, like the cannon fodder that were picked apart in Conflict. Were Section 13 to be comprised of nothing but regenerators on Andersong's level, its likely that the Undead would have been exterminated in their entirety a long time ago save for a few of the powerhouses such as Alucard and Incognito. The previous conflict was between well trained, heavily experienced Hellsing Mercenaries and two junior Section 13 operatives and one extremely novice agent. That's discounting Ceras and Alexander. Two of the three Iscariot new guys were regenerators, but that in itself doesn't imply actual combat prowess. Additionally, their intelligence suggested that Hellsing was all but dead and certainly not capable of mounting an organized, well armed, and quick striking response. As for Andersong being defeated, he got careless. So sure that he was now the Big Dog without Alucard, he got sloppy. Had he bothered to use holy magic, such as the binding wards, or eliminate Lackmay initially instead of going blindly after Ceras, Singularity would have ended right then and there. A developing Ceras vs. one of the Iscariot's Aces at full power? The results would be painfully obvious for the poor policewoman. The next major reappearance of the Hanging Judge will show him as a much more thoughtful, yet still homicidal maniac that is more than an equal for Ceras. I feel that showing that there is more to Alexander than just mad bloodlust and invincibility is necessary in order to make him more than just a recurring gag type villain, whose repeated appearances and convenient defeats, while entertaining, would serve no purpose other than filler. If he's infallible against everyone but Alucard, he becomes boring and predictable. It is also important to note though that Andersong has yet to come remotely close to killing Alucard; the vampire has yet to remove any of the major restrictions to his abilities to combat him and yet has come out on top repeatedly.
