The Wolf's Glen, located in a nearly abandoned section of London that had initially been set aside for redevelopment, was a small café that provided services to the various supernatural beings in that section of city in an effort for ensured survival. It was run by the witches, and had a few elves employed there as well. Customers of the café would go there to eat, seek help with employment, receive donated goods, and many other things. Today, the café was serving a somewhat familiar face. This time, however, he had remembered to fill his prescription for his shape-changing spell, and had temporarily rid themselves of his childish appearance.

"So, I've got the bastard by the hair, right? And he starts begging me to let him go like a little bitch! This guy was actin' all tough and shit earlier, and all it took was a baseball bat to the jaw a couple times to make him cry!" Balassare laughed, joking with his underlings.

The Girasol vampires were seated in one of the larger booths along with their leader, "Babyface" Baldassare. The man was laughing and joking around with his generals as they killed time. They didn't have anything better to be doing at that moment, after all. With the Gentlemen coven gone, things were very much relaxed at that moment. It was a shame that this was about to be spoiled by a phonecall. The man was so distracted at the moment that he didn't even bother to look at the number on the screen before putting in up to his ear.

"Yeah?" he asked, not bothering with a greeting.

"Baldassare?" spoke the voice on the other end. Suddenly, the vampire's mood went sour. His brows furrowed and he huffed as he leaned back in his seat, putting his feet up on the table.

"Oh, it's you…" he replied. "The fuck do you want? Aren't you done dragging me into your messes?"

"I'm afraid not, and it might be your mess too, this time." Ciel answered.

"What's that y'say?"

"It affects the Glen. We've got a bit of a 'situation' on our hands, and from what we can gather, the people behind it are hiding somewhere in the special zone." Informed the Phantomhive, not bothering to dance around the point with someone as impatient as Babyface. If Baldassare lost interest, he might hang up and ignore future calls, which could be detrimental to the case.

"And what? You want me to find 'em or somethin'?" questioned the vampire. "I ain't no bloodhound, pooch. That's you. What does your crap have to do with the Glen? Don't tell me that cigar-chewing broad's got something to do with this…"

"Hellsing had nothing to do with this, at least, not yet." The watchdog replied. "This time it's the metropolitan police. You see, we have a bit of a bomb problem. They've been scattered throughout the city via mass transportation. They've kidnapped humans and strapped bombs to them. If we can find the source of the problem, that threat with vanish."

"So? What does that have to do with me?"

"If you don't help, Hellsing will have to show up and search the area for our threat."

"You fucker! Keep your nasty nose outta people's ass-cracks!" Baldassare shouted, startling his underlings and he stood up and slammed his hand down on the table. "Do you know how many people they'll kill if they do that?! They'll find a fucking reason! They don't give a shit about us! They'll kill us for fucking sneezing because they fucking can! Keep that bitch out of the Glen, y'hear me! I'll fucking murder you!"

"Then I need your cooperation." Spoke the watchdog, ignoring the more vibrant aspects of his informant's speech for a moment. "All I need you to do is ask around and see if there's been anybody unfamiliar sneaking in and out of the special zone recently. If you can find out a location for us to hone in on, this will be over without H.E.L.L.S.I.N.G. getting involved. Can you do that?"

"Oh yeah, you want us to go do to door like fucking girlscouts. 'Scuse me, miss? Have you seen any dodgy shits 'round lately?'" Baldassare mockingly spouted in a high-pitched voice. "Who do you think I am?! I'm one of the dodgiest fuckers here!"

"Just do it, or you'll have both bombs and soldiers to worry about. This isn't a negotiation, Babyface."

"Don't call me 'Babyface', you piece of chewed-up shit!"

"We have less than fifteen hours to resolve this before the bombs start going off, Balassare." Ciel informed, his tone turning grave. He was done with the cove-leader's nonsense. He had played along for long enough, there were people to save, and time was running out. "Even less time before H.E.L.L.S.I.N.G. can make an appearance in your stead. I suggest you get moving."

With that, Baldassare grew quiet. He was more than aware of the position he was in, but he felt the need to puff himself up with needless bravado. He didn't like feeling small and he didn't like being someone else's pawn. It just wasn't "him". Regardless, as he looked around the room at the stunned faces who had observed his outburst and at his equally astonished generals, he couldn't keep up that farce. If he didn't play along, some of these faces might not turn up again tomorrow, or ever again. It was low for the Phantomhive to use H.E.L.L.S.I.N.G. as a threat, holding the citizens of the Glen hostage, just as Simon Says held the humans of London. The vampire grit his teeth and clenched his fist, forcing himself to say what he did next.

"I got it…" he said, his tone still irritable, but much quieter. "I'll get you what you need… Just don't bring that lot into it, alright?"

"Will do." Replied the watchdog. "I don't want any needless deaths, that's why I came to you, first."

"Yeah, right… So… Anybody specific I need to look out for…?"

"Our witness described a man in a 'devil costume'. He had a cape on, and a motorcycle helmet, too. She said that the helmet had horns on it." Ciel described. "Another person that she described had on a 'mascot head' that looked like a rabbit. There were a few others in plain clothes, but those two are the dead giveaways."

"You're joking…" Baldassare replied. "We're looking for fucking Disneyland rejects?"

"It would appear that way. Get going. I'll keep searching for bombs in the meantime, but as soon as you can tell me where these people are hiding, we can put an end to them in one fell swoop."

"Sure you don't want me to just take them out?"

"No. There will be humans involved. Leave that part to me."

A sigh escaped the vampire. The man reached up an scratched the back of his head with his free hand as he still held the phone to his ear with the other. "Alright… Got it… I'll tell ya what I can when I get it…"

"Excellent. I'll hear from you then."

With that, the Phantomhive simply hung up, leaving the vampire in silence. That is, until he gestured for his generals to stand up as well. Judging by the yelling and the mean look that the Girasol leader still wore, this was not good.

"What's going on, boss?" asked one of the other vampires as Baldassare put his phone back in his coat pocket.

"Dog prblems." Answered their leader. "He wants us to find out if anybody new has been sneaking in and out of the Glen."

"Oh, I think I might know something." Said another. "Lately, there's this grey van that's been cruising around. Not too many people have cars around these parts, so that was weird. They weren't vampires, though, so I didn't think much of it…

"What'd they look like?" asked Baldassare. "Tell me everything."

"Dunno. They always wore a hood."

"Right, so we're lookin' for a grey van driven by some hooded fuck." Clarified the leader. "That fits. Anybody else?"

"I saw a weird guy with a cape drivin' a motorcycle." Spoke another. "He had horns on his helmet and everything. Like Halloween comes every day for him or some shit."

"That's one of the guys!" shouted Baldassare. "Where'd ya see them!?"

"In district four, 'round Brawly Street." Answered the fliunkie.

"That's around where I saw the van!" imput the first.

"Right! We'll start there!" declared the Girasol leader. "Grab yer coats, boys, it's cold outside!"


A/N: This arc is turning out longer than I expected...

That's not necessarily a bad thing, though~!

Holy shit! I typed this in under two hours?!

Note to self: Sitting down and just writing the shit is the best strategy for getting out chapters.

Until the next chapter, my duckies~!


CHARACTER SHET

Question: "Question(?) For Ciel: *pokes your nose* Boop. c:" by AloisJimTrancy

Ciel's Answer: "Why?"