HELLSING does not only have station in London. Much activity is handled by the main base, but there are other, much smaller bases around the United Kingdom, particularly in major cities. The Manchester office got a bit of a scolding quite recently, as Paul Blackwood had somehow been right under their nose without them realising it. In actuality, there isn't a lot they couldn't done. Realistically, one can't be aware of everything until it happens. They had absolutely no idea that the man would have been anywhere near there! The scolding was light, but made the group want to do better, somehow.
On a hunch, they were instructed by headquarters to keep an eye out for any unusual supernatural activity. By that, they mean that they want them to look for specifically demonic activity, acting on the hunch of agent Sebastian Michaelis. The only problem was that demons were harder to track than vampires, who were already quite difficult due to their human appearance. Demons, however, don't always leave behind a solid trail of bodies in their wake when they feed. Instead, demons tend to eat one human every few years rather than one every forty-something days. It wasn't until something bizarre turned up that they thought they had anything to go on.
Lloyd Turnbull, an investigator for HELLSING's Manchester branch appeared on the scene with a few others. Mostly, they were soldiers who were there as backup in case whatever it was decided to come back, but from what they found, it was debatable if they would be any help. On the ground was a tarp with a lump in the middle in the shape of a corpse. Sure enough, when Turnbull crouched down and lifted it, that is what he found.
Pulling back the tarp, he whistled a flat note and peeked over his sunglasses at the body. "Well… I know vampires bite necks, but that's a tad peculiar." Looking over the body more thoroughly, he shook his head. "Scratch that. I have seen it. Back in '99. I've only seen Draculian vampires and Millennium vampires do this, before. If it's either one of those, this is bad."
Looking up at one of his associates who were gathering information, he asked: "By the way, why isn't there a bullet in it's head? The guy could turn into a ghoul at any second!"
Another, slightly younger and less experienced investigator, Tyrone Watkins, was also at the scene. "It's the middle of the afternoon." he said. "If he was going to turn, he would have done it by now."
"How do you know it was that long ago? We don't know it it's a nocturnal supernatural who did this." Turnbull stated. "There was that werewolf up in Hull that was arrested not too long ago. He's old enough to shapeshift at will during the day. How do we know there aren't more and one isn't rogue?"
"Does it look like a werewolf attack?"
"Dunno… Never seen one… All I know is that this man is missing the entire front of his neck, and we don't know why." Turnbull grumbled. "Find any fur?"
"Some. We collected what we could so we can have it analysed." spoke one of the agents gathering evidence nearby.
"Good." Standing up, Lloyd put the tarp back and turned to the others. "Get this body back so we can perform an autopsy. Keep some soldiers in the area. I want to make sure this pathway is safe."
Turning, he began to walk back to the car, only to hear groaning coming from behind him. To his surprise, he also heard rustling, followed by a few men gasping and uttering expletives in shock. Looking back over his shoulder, he saw the body sitting up with. It's neck was mangled as it bent all the way backwards at an angle that was both grotesque and assumed to be impossible, held only to the rest of the corpse by the man's spine and a few strands of meat. Turnbull could see it's eyes staring lifelessly at him as it began to stir even further in hopes of getting to its feet.
"What are you waiting for?!" demanded the investigator. "Shoot it!"
Guns were aimed and the soldiers fired them, missing as the creature got low to the ground. It's head dangled lifelessly, but it still seemed to know where it was going. It was strange. This creature was far too graceful to be a ghoul. Fast, too.
In the blink of an eye, the creature was crawling on its hands and feet at an abnormal angle, staying close to the ground so it was hard to hit. Panicked, the guards did not respond as quickly as they needed to. They were too flustered by how quick and grotesque the ghoul was. It was unlike anything they had ever seen! As Turnbull reached for the pistol at his hip, he was tackled to the ground.
The lack of neck in the front made it difficult for the ghoul to sink its teeth into Turnbull as its head flopped around weakly. Frantically, Turnbull tried to push it off as he was unable to aim his gun at the angle he needed without harming himself. The seconds crawled by like hours until someone else helped him, shoving the beast out of the way before firing. Blood and tissue splattered against the dirt as the ghoul was killed on the spot.
"Sir!" called out one of the soldiers on the scene as they rushed to ensure that they double-checked to see if the creature was truly dead as well as to check on the investigator. Lloyd just sat up and looked over, dumbfounded by what he saw lying next to him.
Reaching for his sunglasses, he picked them up, only to grunt at the stinging sensation in his arm. It was a tiny scrape, but if the others knew about it, they would have him thoroughly examined and bother him with invasive tests that might be nothing. It might not be a bite. If it was, what happened next is inevitable. He might as well make the most of the time he has left. Standing up, he put the glasses back on.
"I'm fine." he said, masking his uncertainty. "What in blazes was that?"
"Not anything I've seen before..." answered Watkins. He looked down at the body with a wrinkled brow while scratching his head. He really couldn't fathom it. "I guess we can rule out a werewolf attack..."
Turning around, Lloyd faced the other operatives tending to the operation. "Well?! What are you waiting for?! Contact London headquarters and send this thing to their lab! File a report! Get on it!"
People scrambled and the sounds of boots stomping about could be heard for miles. A group of men returned to their vehicle and donned hazmat suits in order to transport the body. Turnbull continued barking orders until London was informed of what happened. Integra knew and it was a matter of time before action was taken. He filled out an entire report in record time, giving his personal account of what happened. Within hours, the news of a "new type of ghoul" had spread, but he hadn't much time.
Within hours, he became ill. He knew it. This was bad. The creature's teeth had grazed him and the area around the small scrape was changing into an ugly, infected-looking green. How? How?!
Lloyd Turnbull was a seasoned soldier in his forties. He had survived long enough that being a foot soldier no longer suited him. He had been loyal, fulfilling every task he was given to completion for the good of no only the HELLSING organization, but the country he loved and was proud to live in. Perhaps it was time for him to retire. Turnbull wrote his report down twice, filling in every single detail that he could recall that might not have been originally featured before slipping the note into his dress uniform. He donned it proudly as he stared out at the red and black crest hanging on the wall in his small apartment that the organization has given him. He was grateful, truly, he was.
Many of the employees at HELLSING are former mercenaries. People who couldn't get honest work or find work anywhere else. The organization gave them work and treated them right. It was a good job with benefits. They even got insurance! Before HELLSING, Turnbull was no different. He fought wars for people he didn't know or care about because the price was right, but now he's in England, living comfortably. It was the closest he's felt to being an honest man in years. It was good work. It was noble work. He loved this place. Most everyone did.
Thus, it was for this reason that he decided to don his dress uniform for one last time. Well, that and the fact that he wanted to retire before the inevitable happened. Lloyd wanted to die a man, not a brainless monster. It was the HELLSING way. In the quiet, he stood momentarily, checking himself in the mirror. All of his buttons were fast and uniform pressed and straightened. He looked like a man who knew what he was doing. In reality, he didn't. He had his doubts. He knew what was coming, but he was scared. He didn't want things to be this way. He wanted to continue on, but alas, this is where he must depart. Lloyd would march on ahead of his comrades, but he believed firmly that they would meet again someday.
Pleased that he looked official, he stood in front of the banner on his wall and offered a salute. Never before had he ever felt like the romanticised version of a soldier before HELLSING. Never before did he have pride. It was for this reason that he would not become what his life as a "good" man had been spent trying to prevent and destroy.
"In the name of God, all impure souls of the living dead will be banished into eternal damnation..." he recited, pulling the revolver at his hip out of its holster. Opening it up, he slid one lone bullet into one of the chambers. "Amen."
A/N: Kind of dark...
I don't really feel like doing A/Ns today. This chapter was a pain in the ass from start to finish. Even posting the damn thing gave me problems!
I just wanna move on from it...
Until the next chapter, my duckies...
