Disclaimer: I make no money; I possess nothing but my own creations.

Author's note: To the faithful...here we are again. Please note that we have moved into dark territory and if you are sensitive soul, read with caution. No offense is meant by using issues regarding mental health – indeed my own is far from laudable.

Chapter 17

He had broken through the old wall that had blocked the sub-basement where he had made his nest. It opened into a dimly lit, tiled corridor. Steel doors lined the walls at regular intervals. He sensed the duty nurse at the top of the passage and knew that there would be no interference from that direction. Past experience had taught him that they never came down to the cells, except for meal times. The inmates down here were considered beyond all help and were left here to rot until death offered a release.

As he walked towards the end of the corridor, he was assailed by the screams, wails and laughter of the tormented souls locked behind each door. He made his way to the last cell, the one he was most familiar with – the one that had been his.

Prying the door open he found the little room occupied by a woman in her late forties, sitting in a corner and staring at her hands. She was whispering the same phrase over and over:

"It wasn't me, it was a monster, it wasn't me."

Tormented beyond reason by the memories of her child floating face down in the bath tub, with her hands holding him under, she paid no attention as he walked in and sat down beside her. She didn't even react when the visitor spoke:

"I know it wasn't you, I'm here to take all that away from you. You will soon see the truth of all things."

The whispering woman was so lost in her own anguish that she never felt herself being gathered up in strong arms, nor her head being tilted back. Only as she felt sharp teeth on her flesh, did she look at the person who was holding her. Red eyes met brown and suddenly she knew there were worse things than the hell she had thought she was in. Then darkness crowded in and she knew no more.

After ensuring that his gift would pass over, he pulled the cell door shut and looked down the dimly lit corridor.

* One down, * he thought. *Eleven more to go...*

The London Hellsing headquarters was equipped with a firing range as well as a tactical practice run area. It was here that Integra went when she needed to focus her attentions.

Sir Integra pulled the trigger as fast as she could, as each cardboard monster jumped out from behind windows and walls. She was sizing up a window shot when suddenly a large red form materialised just next to the target. Briefly she considered shooting Alucard just for being in her way and then calmly put a bullet through the targets forehead. She raised her hand as a signal to the range martial that she was coming out, and pulled off her ear mufflers as she strode through the fake streets. She was holstering her pistol when Alucard caught up to her. Matching his stride to hers, he walked along with her, waiting for her to speak. She kept him waiting on purpose, knowing that it irked him.

"Yes?" She enquired blandly.

"That was nice shooting master." He said smoothly. "But are you sure you shot the right target at the end?"

She turned her frigid gaze on him and said tersely:

"I know exactly where and what I'm aiming it. Now what do you want?"

By this time they had walked the distance to Integra's office and was seating herself behind her ever full desk. Lighting up a cigar, she inhaled and then exhaled with obvious satisfaction. Alucard had not bothered to seat himself in either of his customary spots, which indicated him impatience.

"We need to keep looking for that rogue vampire out there."

"I already have Walter and the information department combing the media for any indications. Also our sources in the police department will keep us appraised of any strange incidents."

"Information gathering." He sneered.

"It's what we have at the moment. We cannot allot valuable resources to reconnaissance and have nothing available when the real trouble shows up."

He glared down at her, unable to express his frustrations. He knew his own kind, he knew what sort of mayhem could arise if the angel of mercy went unchecked. And he knew that his master was right – damn her.

He gave a low bow that somehow mocked her and vanished from the office. Integra stared at the place he had been standing and then rubbed her eyes. Jabbing the intercom button she said tiredly:

"Walter, tea please."

Alucard reappeared in his cellar and snarled with rage. He was in no mood to pass the evening in contemplation and scaring the staff was becoming boring. He stared at his nightly allotment of blood and wine, deciding if it was worth the effort. Then he remembered that there was somewhere else that he could go – where he had permission from his master to go.

He drank, tempering his ever present thirst and then vanished, only to reappear in the parking lot of the Cardiff munitions factory.

He closed the last cell door and sighed. It had been exhausting but it was worth it. He had saved them from a terrible future, and now he waited for them to awaken, so he could show them the wonders of what they had become.