At long last, the lion was free. He was going to continue doing work for Pyestock, but he was relieved to be heading home to his family. The separation was becoming too much for him and he was definitely at his limit. After checking out and leaving his contact information, he got in his car and began to drive out. His pace was dreadfully slow until he reached the gate, as more people tried to run alongside his car than when he arrived. Occasionally, he would left one hand go of the wheel to wave, but did his best to stay alert and focused until the danger had passed. Once he was out, he was checked by the guards before taking off at a much higher speed.

He was breaking the law a bit by speeding, but it wasn't the worst thing he's done. It was all out of haste as he was more than ready to be home again. Luckily, he wasn't pulled over, having strategically memorised the spots where police officers are most likely to be. His speed was only fueled by his restlessness as his desire to be home worsened with each passing moment.

Instead of driving, his thoughts were filled with being in his own house, bathing in his own bathroom, and sleeping in his own bed. The latter of the bunch he would be doing with his husband, whom he was anxious to reunite with. Alois would be able to eat with the family again and talk to Luka, Revy, and Sebastian. It was something he did every single day but at that particular moment, it sounded like a treat.

When he finally got to London, he wanted to scream! The traffic was so slow! He thought he would take a shorter route in order to cut time, but it looked as though everyone else had the exact same idea. Gripping the steering wheel tight, he fumed with his brow furrowed and body tense.

"I just wanna go home!" he cried out to no one in particular. No one could hear him unless they were standing right next to the car on the street. Unfortunately, that was just the case as he heard a knock at his window as he was frozen in traffic. Naturally, it wasn't a good idea to roll your window down for a random stranger in the middle of the city. But, the intruder persisted, prompting the menace to reluctantly crack the window open slightly with a drawn out huff. "Yeah? What d'ya need?"

His displeasure was not hidden very well, yet the man before him smiled. He looked a few years older than Alois and dressed in an odd flashy sort of way. His eyebrows didn't match his hair colour, as they were black while the hair on his head was a sort of pseudo-bleached blond that one gets from shampoo, rather than going to a professional. To be entirely frank, he looked like kind of a punk- like some sort of n'er-do-well who hangs outside business, blocking the door while smoking cigarettes and throwing the butts on the ground. Yet, his expression seemed friendly. Perhaps it was too friendly. He seemed a tad suspicious, but trying to talk to someone stuck in traffic wasn't exactly normal. Alois wasn't rightened, however. His gun was just in his jacket. All he had to do was reach inside and draw. If worst came to worst, he would teach this guy how real criminals behave.

"Nice car." the stranger said while admiring the Mercedes Benz. "I want one."

"Then go buy one." scoffed the menace, unsure why the other man continued to smile. Either way, his head was starting to hurt and it was making him even grouchier than before. "Look, I'm having a rough afternoon. I don't really have time for much."

"You're stuck in traffic, though."

"I could be doing ten different things while waiting in traffic, but for some reason, I'm talking to you. Do you have a reason for this, or can I just roll up my window?"

"Give me the car." the man said, earning an arched eyebrow followed by an abrupt laugh.

"No." Alois said, and immediately, the man's smile fell. He paused, somewhat confusedly, and spoke again.

"I said, give me the car." the man said. "Get out and give me the car."

"You're not very good at this whole carjacking thing, are ya?" the blonde questioned. "Where do you intend to drive off to? If you did somehow get the car?"

Suddenly, the man's face darkened. "I said: Give. Me. The. Car." Impatiently, the man jiggled the doorhandle, only to find it locked. Hearing the electric window, he saw that it was rolled down a bit more, but only so the gun in the demon's hand wouldn't shoot it. That changed things.

"Different idea: you piss off and avoid getting a gut wound, yeah?" Alois offered, smirking a bit as the stranger's face shifted from annoyance to horror as he wisely slinked away. The blonde watched him as he left, opening his door when the man stopped to look at his license plate in order to scare him off.

Eventually, he was moving again and the man was out of sight, but really, he just went around the corner. He approached a parked turquoise van and knocked on the door. It opened, and he was let inside. The others around him looked nervous due to the graveness of his face, but were too afraid to inquire what was the matter with him.

"Get to the house." the man said. "Any word? Tell me."

"The people we sent Manchester never reported back in, so when we sent the others in to check like you said, they were stopped by military looking blokes." one of the flunkies answered. "They made it back, but it looks like it was taken."

The boss' brow furrowed deeper at this and he sighed. "Do they have any more information?"

"No, sir."

"Why not?"

This was a dangerous question to answer honestly. But, if the poor flunkie didn't answer at all, it would be forced out of him. It was easier on him if he just spoke the truth from the start. "I… I don't know, sir."

"Hmm..." hummed the boss in thought. Eventually, however, he smiled. It wasn't a kind smile, either. It was the smile of someone up to no good. "I suppose I'll jus' have to ask them when we get back, yeah?"

The air in the back of the van suddenly vanished as everyone knew that something terrible was bound to come from this. No one knew what exactly their boss was going to pull, but they knew it would be inhumane. Unfortunately, they would find out when they arrived.

The hideout in question did not belong to the boss at all. In fact, it was chosen at complete random. All he had to do was waltz up to the front door and say "let me use your house." The rest unfolded from there. Thus, HELLSING was not monitoring it, not that they even knew that the legitimate anti-freak organization existed. They might just figure that out in time, however.

He said nothing at first, but his mood radiated off of him, tainting the air so that it was breathable. Those in the house held their breath as he walked by. They could tell that he was looking for something- rather, someone. Someone was in trouble and that never meant anything good. The man in the skull mask was known to have fingers or fingernails removed. He would make people torture themselves and there was nothing they could do. They were helpless as their body moved against their wishes. If he told someone to do something, they had to do it. It didn't matter what it was.

"The team that handled staking out the Manchester lab needs to come here. Bring them to me." He ordered the closest person who seemed capable enough to do just that. "Make it seem like a good thing. Just tell them that due to their efforts, the leader of the Belmont organisation wishes to meet with them."

After receiving his "yes sir" response, the man continued to the room that he had commandeered as his office. One his desk rested a mask that made his face look like a skull. He only wore it on occasion "just in case," as he put it. None of his flunkies really understood it, but they really didn't understand him.

"Fan-fucking-tastic." he said while sitting down with a huff. Looking up again, he noticed that he had been followed by the men in the van. "First, ol' moneybags goes missing, and now one of my labs and… now Martyr? I can't replace her. Whoever the fuck is responsible for this, find them and bring them to me. I'll make 'em fuck a wall outlet."

Turning, his underlings walked away, leaving him to his own devices. They were shocked at how well he was handling this and dreaded the idea that he could just be saving his rage for later. He was. While alone, he seethed, finding no point in throwing a tantrum now. He could destroy everything in sight, but what good would that do? It would just ruin perfectly good equipment that he had worked so hard to acquire. Inanimate objects could not be taught a lesson. Those who were truly at fault were his field agents in Manchester. It might take a few days for them to arrive, so he would wait patiently until their arrival. Then, he would greet them with all of the hospitality he could muster.

"Sir?" greeted the underling from before, peeking his head in the door. "They've been notified."

"Great. That'll be it for now."

"But, sir..." the words escaped the flunkie before he could censor himself. There was no questioning this man. If there were questions, they were best unspoken, but now the idea that there even was a question had been brought to the attention of his boss, causing him to arch his brow.

"But, what?" the boss inquired, standing from his seat. "Tell me."

Suddenly lips were flapping without the consent of their owner. "Is there a back-up plan if Marty's dead?"

"Hmm..." the other man hummed. "Good question… I think it's only fair that I explain it to you. But first, though, do you smoke? Can I bum a fag real quick?"

"Yeah, sure." There was a touch of hesitance to the other's answer, but he was in no position to protest. Taking a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, he gave his superior one before lighting it for him. He shut his eyes as the boss blew smoke in his face.

"Put your hands on the table, Gus."

Without any choice, the flunkie known as "Gus" did what he was told, watching the other man closely as he paced back and forth. His eyes were fixed on the cigarette, in particular. There were no ash trays on the desk. Putting the pieces together, a chill ran down Gus' spine and he tried in vain to move.

"I'm sorry to hold you up. I'm just so stressed, y'know?" The end of the cigarette glowed brighter as he paused to take another drag, causing Gus to sweat a little. His eyes followed the light intently as his boss paced back and forth. "Y'see, I've been havin' a bit of a rough time, lately. A bunch of supernaturals trashed my lab and I can't even get into it anymore because of some military-types. Then, my main financial supporter goes missing and nobody can tell me where he went."

With a flick, some ashes landed near Gus' fingers, causing them to twitch. Unfortunately, they remained in place and his leader continued. "To top it all off, I don't know where one of the key pieces to my plan had gone, either! It's just- wow! So… stressful."

Bending over, the man finally looked directly into his underling's eyes, leaning on the desk with his elbows. "But y'know what?" he asked, "I'm not too worried. Y'see, me and Martyr? We have a sort of connection, so to speak. So I'm not too worried."

Reaching out, he put out his cigarette. He pressed it between the other man's fingers, right into the table. Seeing that he was unharmed, Gus uttered a heavy sigh of relief.

His employer smiled at him in an unkind fashion before his arm shot out and reached for the office supplies in the cup on the desk. With a pair of scissors in his fist, he raised his arm before bringing it back down again over Gus' hand. Agonised, the man uttered a loud scream and his legs gave out from beneath him. Yet, his hand still remained in place, in part due to the order he was given, and also because the scissors were stabbing into the desk through his palm, splitting open the wood and dyeing it red.

"What does worry me are fuckheads who don't think I know what I'm doing!" the other man roared, gnashing his teeth. "It's best ta get rid of doubt when it starts, right? Ya don't think I'm stupid, to ya, Gus? Do ya think I'm fucking stupid?!"

"NO, SIR!" Gus writhed with tears streaming down his cheeks and snot dripping from his nose. "PLEASE, SIR!"

"'Please' what? Be specific. Don't be vague."

"My hand! Please let go of my hand!"

"Why are you so bossy? I'm the leader, ain't I? Leaders don't take orders."

"Can I please have my hand back, sir?!"

"Aight." answered the other, removing his weapon from the man's flesh. Once he did, Gus just stayed there, panting. He wanted to clutch at his wound, but his hands were still stuck. In an ugly fashion, he sobbed, but was only met with a raised brow.

"Oh. That was a little overboard, huh? Sorry 'bout that. I meant to save it for someone who deserved it." the boss stated. "That's human nature for ya. We're designed to wanna be top dog, and we'll fuck up anything that gets in our way. Fortunately for me, I was born to be top dog. It's not my fault. I can't help it. You understand, right?" When he was met with only further sobbing, he sighed and rolled his eyes.

"You can move your hand now, so move it." he said and quickly, Gus did just that, holding his wounded hand with his undamaged one. "Go get someone to take you to a hospital. Don't tell anyone about me or anything else here. If the person you're with tries to tell, kill them."

That was a grim instruction. Yet, it was sensible to cover his tracks. Gus knew that he would follow through with it, too, no matter how much he didn't want to. This is how the Belmont organisation remained a secret for so long. The leader was not an idiot. He kept his subordinates ignorant, however, as those who are ignorant are generally more compliant and willing the believe what he's selling them. He intentionally withheld the information about the man who he had tried to steal a car from earlier. He didn't know who Alois was, and because for some reason he was not compliant. That on top of everything else, infuriated the man behind the Belmont Organisation like nothing else. Sometimes, it happens, but he could never figure out why. Because he couldn't write down the liscence plate of the menace, he might never find out.

He plans seemed to be falling apart, but he would make it work. He could make anything work. He always got his way no matter what. That was how things always worked for him, even as a little boy on his parents' estate. His family never liked him, however. It was tough, knowing that one's son was a monster.


A/N: For some reason, I just couldn't get this guy's name to fit in here? I didn't mean to be all mysterious on that front, but I couldn't figure out how to put his name out there! Oh, well. Let's just pretend I did that on purpose to be all clever.

I just HATED calling him "the boss" over and over. It was really annoying to me for some reason. Some of you might not have even noticed until I pointed it out. Now that's ALL you're gonna think. "Yeah, it is pretty fuckin' annoying."

This chapter took me a really long time because of the fact that the majority of it is written following an entirely new character. It's always tough writing for someone new for the first time, ESPECIALLY when they have a significant chunk of their debut chapter. It was really difficult. I didn't want him to seem whiney of #edgy. Dunno how that worked out. I spent most of my time writing out like, what he's after and what he believes and how he sees himself in the world in order to get a grasp on him before this chapter, but I still ran into trouble. Sometimes, you just can't win.

I think this is just one of those chapters that you just gotta post and wait for feedback on. We'll get it next time.

The response to the last chapter was kind of surprising. I guess the opinion on Daffy never improved, huh? He's still a mullet-having asshole in the eyes of the fandom. Beautiful.

Until the next chapter, my duckies~!


CHARACTER SHET

Question: "Character Shet Questions Alois: What ever happened to Bernard the duck?" by raynaheart23

Alois: "Unfortunately, Bernard met his untimely end a while back. First, his squeaker gave out and not too long after that, he couldn't float anymore. Then, it was discovered that dirt had gotten inside and he couldn't be saved. R.I.P old friend..."