A/N: To Guest: Thank you very much for the interest. I hope this new chapter proves a pleasant read for you.
"Rickmansworth, Sir?" Seras questioned, taken aback by how close the threat was. It was not often that the weaker denizens of the night ventured so close to them. Still and all, it meant she had a target to destroy. It did not bother her as much as it might have in the past. Sir Integra breathed in deeply, the cigarillo she held between her slender fingers crumbling away even further. "I'll be back before you even know I'm gone," she laughed. "How many men am I getting?"
"Sergeant Farnsworth will go with you along with his men. I don't expect you'll be needing them, but they'll come in handy for cleanup, no doubt. Try not to cause too much damage to your surroundings now." Seras grinned at that tone of voice; it was almost motherly. No matter that the two of them were nearly of an age.
"Sir, yes sir," she saluted. She could read most of the file on the road. If she were travelling alone, she'd have made use of her speed, but the Seras had noticed her men were in ever better spirits if she kept close to them. That, naturally, meant blending in. She didn't need to worry for men like Farnsworth; he was a stout wall with more almost three decades of active service for the Hellsing organisation. He'd seen her do everything from singing carols to ripping enemies apart. It was the newer men she had to set at ease. While it was well known among the men that she was a vampire, Seras still enjoyed showing them that she wasn't much of a danger as far as their lives were concerned. They were her men; she would protect them to the best of her abilities.
Her orders clear, she took herself off, knowing that the soldiers would be still gearing up. She had an hour before she needed to report to the vehicle. Which meant she could pester her master in the hopes of finding out just where he was being sent. Sir Integra had briefed them separately, which could only mean both had taken on solo assignments, as it were. Seras skipped her way down the stairs of the basement, jogging lightly to her master's chamber. She knocked politely, knowing only too well that he was behind the door. His presence, at least, was unmistakable. There was no answer, but the door did creek open as though under its own power.
"Good evening, Master," she called out to the blackness yawning out before her. The shadows shook, their welcoming twitches coaxing a smile from her. It was as overt a sign as she was ever going to get on that score. Alucard seemed to be truly pleased that she sought him out of her own volition, even if all they did was have their meals together in companionable silence. She allowed her own shade to mingle with the others before stepping fully within and closing the door with a soft thud. "I take it you are pleased with your mission then."
The darkness fell open to reveal her seated master, holding a glass of blood-wine indolently between long, elegant fingers. "Good evening to you as well, police girl." She scowled softly at the moniker. "Why would I be pleased with such offerings as my Master has provided? Weak, impotent creatures that crawl about mindlessly; the only thing they know is hunger. Vermin, the lot of them." His lips curled in disdain, presumably at the thought of his hunt that night. Seras paused for only a moment before walking to the table, her chest filling with some unnamed emotion as the shadows receded even further to uncover her own seat. A couple of blood packs awaited her. Master must have retrieved them from her room. "The world is sorely lacking in challenges."
"Oh, Master," she snorted good-naturedly. "I highly doubt anyone around these parts could give you a good run for your money." Seras bit into her meal with gusto, downing the contents of the pack, becoming aware of her master's eyes on her only as the last dregs of blood spilled upon her tongue. Releasing her grip on the pack, she lifted her head to meet his scrutiny properly. "Something the matter, Master?"
An amused rumble answered her. The highly chilling quality to her master's laughter had not changed in the least. She dared a small grin of her own, depositing the deflated bag on the table and running her finger against the second one, contemplating whether she should take it with her instead of draining it then. She could always phase atop the vehicle and drink it there, the wind playing in her hair, pale moon-glow caressing her. Farnsworth's men knew her well enough, most of them having been with Hellsing for a few years by that point. "Still thinking of such nonsense, I see." She must have dropped her shields, Seras realised, holding back an annoyed sigh, correctly interpreting the older vampire's admonishment as for her concern for the common soldiery.
"You have your way of working with the troops," she said. His way mostly involved inducing small heart-attacks among the men's ranks by scaring the poor sods witless. "And I have mine; there's no need to be petty about our differences, is there now?"
"Petty?" His tone was sharp. Seras leaned back in her seat, no longer fiddling with the blood pack. "What exactly do you hope to accomplish by acting as you do?" Quite frankly, she was surprised he didn't know. But since he had asked, it would be boorish not to enlighten him.
"I'm hoping to build some healthy rapport with the troops. It makes for a better performance on their part and I enjoy it." He frowned. "They're under no illusion with regards to my nature, Master. They know full and well what I am." Seras smiled contently, "and they know who I am." The lines of tension in Alucard's face eased some; he seemed to be mulling her answer over.
"They are no friends to you, police girl. I hope you understand that at least." He placed his wineglass on the table with a soft clinking sound. His words sounded like a warning.
She knew that. The soldiers relied on her to dispatch that which they could not hope to touch. Some were friendly towards her, but not once had she encouraged true closeness between them. "I understand. But they are still people I work with. Speaking of work, where are you headed, Master?"
"Luton." That was a bit further away than her. Seras frowned. She'd hoped they might meet on the way back. But then they had some action after too much silence. She shouldn't become too greedy. "I don't expect it to take long."
"Never with you, my Master," she approved. "I hope Sir Integra will send us on a mission together soon though." Much as she disliked the thought of civilians in danger, hurt or damaged beyond repair, she couldn't help but miss the good old days. "It's been forever since," she trailed off, catching herself before she could say too much. The last thing her master needed was his ego stroked. The thing was massive enough as was. "It's just been forever."
She felt him against the tightly locked barriers of her mind. He wasn't pushing her in any way. Slowly, cautiously, she allowed him entrance. "Has it?" Her body helplessly trembled at the sound of his voice. "I suppose it has." Seras wasn't sure what he'd been looking for, but he must have been pleased with whatever he found as he retreated with something akin to a caress. "Rickmansworth may be closer, but you are slower."
"Maybe I am," she allowed. Having finally reached a decision with regards to the blood pack, she picked it up and bit into it. If she hurried, she could down it and then hie away to the assembly point. Farnsworth would be waiting with his impeccable timing. "We'll have to see who gets back first, won't we?" The question lingered between them as she stood, the coppery taste of blood dissipating as their eyes met and held. Her master stood as well.
Before Seras could take proper leave of him, however, long arms reached for her. A yelp was her only response as Alucard dragged her forward, the shadows gathering around their bodies, rendering them insubstantial, as they phased together. As a general rule, Seras did not phase before the soldiers. She used stairs and doors and other mundane means of moving from one space to the next. Gasps and startled exhalations greeted her as her feet touched ground.
"Ma'am," Sergeant Thomas Farnsworth saluted at her arrival. Seras twisted in her master's grasp to respond with a nod. He did not seem too shaken by the entrance. "Everything is ready. We only await your word." Alucard's hold retreated. She didn't know what he was doing, but she could see Farnsworth tensing. The troops had been made aware of her master soon after his return, but they'd yet to grow easy around him. For his part, her master did not seem to care about the men either way. She just hoped he wasn't trying to torment these poor souls just trying to do their job.
"Good man." Breaking away from the elder Midian's side, she took form steps towards the Sergeant. "Who's with us tonight?" Seras asked, eyes moving to the small line of soldiers waiting near a loaded vehicle.
"Krenshaw, Renfield, Stanton, Nowak and Zimmerman, along with myself." Not a big team, but then she reckoned the threat was minimal, from what Sir Integra had disclosed. Seras nodded, indicating to the man that she'd be right along. "Right then, ma'am, we depart in fifteen."
Approaching the team, Seras gave a short greeting. "I'm sure Searge took care to inform the lot of you on all relevant aspects of the mission. As always, keep your eyes peeled, don't play the hero and for the love of God, don't get in my way."
"Wouldn't dream of it, mum," Nowak said, a grin lifting one side of his mouth. "Ain't none of us planning to become targets, wot." Zimmerman snorted.
"Glad to hear, Corporal. Now if we're clear, you lot go on." Turning on her heel, she almost cocked her head to the side when noting her master hadn't moved from his previous spot, apparently taken up with observing the unfolding scene. Behind her she could hear the soldiers muttering amongst themselves, conversations rife with speculation, theories and what not. Keeping her usual pace, she walked back to Alucard, leaning in ever so slightly when she came to a stop. Something displeased him. She could feel the irritation, sharp, thorny thing that it was. I wonder what that look is for. He didn't answer. That too had not changed from their earlier days it would seem. Holding back a pout, an unworthy tactic for someone of her calibre, she instead reached out and bodily touched her master's arm, even knowing it was a daring move. "I'll be going then, my master. Fair hunt to you."
If he didn't wish to share his thoughts with her, he wouldn't. And unlike him, who she was well aware, could easily force her to do as he pleased, she hadn't that sort of control over him. Perhaps Sir Integra might; Seras shook that thought loose. It did no good to dwell on such matters; she pushed it from her mind and made her way to the vehicle, climbing in with ease.
Careful of the equipment placed within, she stepped to her customary seat at the end of the bench. Her men filed in, Zimmerman plopping down by her, with Renfield following. Nowak sat opposite her with Stanton. Krenshaw was driving and Farnsworth was in the passenger's seat.
"Begging pardon, mum, but I have to say the other one scares the living piss out of me," Zimmerman commented. "It's that look he's got; all evil, I reckon."
She chuckled softly. It was a normal reaction as far as she was concerned. Only a fool would take her master lightly. "No need for pardon, Private. Alucard would take it for a compliment, I'm sure." Or perhaps he'd merely take it as his due.
"Don't it bother you the way 'e looks at you, mum?" Nowak piped in, his tone a curious mixture of curiosity and incredulity. Seras frowned back at him. "Close like."
"Well," she shrugged, amused more than anything at such an outcome, "I am his protégé." Still his childe; and so she would remain for as long as she did not drink his blood. "Don't you worry none, Nowak." That seemed to put an end to the subject.
It wouldn't be long before master was back to his usual antics and then these men would grow used to him. Of that much she was certain. Plus, Sir Integra had fairly ordered him not to injury any of her men. If anything, Iscariot was more of a danger to them than Alucard. Relaxing in her seat, Seras returned her attention to the ongoing conversation. Renfield was complaining about Krenshaw's driving skills, threatening to cast his accounts to the unremitting enjoyment of his companions, who responded with jibes and good-natured teasing.
The entire truck shook, tarp overhead included. They must have hit a pothole in the road. Sometimes, by which Seras meant whenever she had something to take care of outside of London, the roads seemed to enjoy distorting, falling apart and becoming a minefield of cracks and holes, shaking her. Quite frankly, she would have preferred the nausea phasing induced during her early days as a vampire. Of course, the reaction had been mitigated by her master's arms around them, steady, firm. In such moments, he made her feel safe, ironic as that might sound; her killer, the one who'd ripped her forever from the hope of sun and normalcy, made her feel safe. How was that for a twisted happy ever after. Blood ever after was more accurate.
Another jolt sent Zimmerman into her side, his head knocking against her shoulder. Seras steeled herself at the moment of impact, remaining unmoved. An elbow dug into her side as Zimmerman fought to righten himself. Expletives exploded on his tongue, followed by a hasty apology. "Ma'am, these damned roads will be the death of me."
"More like Krenshaw's driving will kill us," Renfield finally spoke. He glared at where Krenshaw would be seated. "Can't be long now. Stanton, how long do you reckon?"
"Not long now." Seras caught Stanton's eye and smiled at him. He gave a snort exasperated nod. It was going to be a good night. Of that she was certain.
Warping away from the men, she seated herself atop the tarp, allowing her shadow to stretch out around her. Pip fidgeted, but did not react otherwise to their surroundings. She prodded him but when he remained dormant Seras left him to it.
Blood splattered across her chest, streaks dripping over her flesh, warming it. Seras grinned at the scattering of torn limbs on the ground. That was the last of them by her count. She grabbed hold of the flare gun she'd been holding onto and raised it towards the sky, pressing the trigger. It shouldn't take long for the men to reach her. In the meantime, she could roam around and see what information she might gather. Much as she liked to think the two cretins she'd taken out responsible for the whole mess around her, their words had actually indicated there was more to it than that. Sir Integra would want to know as much as she possibly take back to her.
Seras eyes the corpses at her feet, scanning the bits and pieces strewn across the ground, wrinkling her nose at the waste. It was not as though vampires needed ghouls. Even weak ones were more than capable of fulfilling their desires without mindless servants trailing them. As though it would've been the hardest thing to feed and then dispose of the wrappings, as it were. But no, they had to bite people just for the fun of it, cause panic and send the Hellsing organisation on their track. They'd always be caught in the end. And they would always be sent straight to hell.
She followed the scent of the weak vampires, tracking it through the streets to a small, one-story building. It was a family home from the looks of it. The front door was wide open. A shiver, unrelated to the pleasure of blood-spilling, ran down her spine. Seras stepped gingerly through the small door in the gate. She passed the entrance and found herself sitting in a comfortably wide hallway.
One of the walls was covered in blood, a vague humanoid shape barely discernible, as though someone had slumped against it. Seras growled softly; there was something wrong with the place. Besides the fact not a single soul could be heard about, there was a foul odour wafting about. She stopped breathing if only to keep from inhaling too much of it. She could only hope none of it would rub off on her. She didn't have the slightest wish to bring any of that home. Continuing her walk through the house, Seras peeked around the corner letting out a small screech at the unexpected sight awaiting her.
On the floors, ripped in a few chunks was a small body. Much too small to be an adult. Her stomach roiled uncomfortably and a moan of distress left her parted lips. The poor thing; she couldn't even tell whether she was looking at a boy or at a girl. The skull had been crushed, bone caving inward, pulpy soft tissue mixed in with brain matter. The chest had been ripped open as well. The rest of the body had simply been separated into pieces.
Unable to hold her gaze to the corpse for a moment longer, she lifted her eyes to a photograph nailed to the wall. A young boy in a school uniform was standing between two seated adults. The man was fair-haired and broad-shouldered. He had green eyes. Altogether a handsome specimen. The woman, a redhead of slim build covered in freckles, smiled beatifically at the onlookers. Seras tried to recall have ripped through ghouls of a similar description. Unfortunately, too many of them had passed between her claws for her to remember.
Feeling somewhat settled, or as much as anyone could be given the current circumstances, she eyes the boy on the ground once more. He'd not been fed upon, that much she was certain of. Raking his remnants carefully over, it was only then that she noticed a most curious detail. His heart was missing. Seras knelt down, reaching into the small ribcage, gently moving her hand through the gore in search of the organ. She came up short. It had been taken.
If the vampires had killed him, why had they taken the heart out? Why waste his blood as well? No answer came to her. Seras stood and bade her shadows clean her hand. She drifted from the corpse towards the basement. A light had been left in, as though beckoning her down. She followed, rounding a small corner.
One of the parents must have been working for the local law enforcement. Files and files were strewn across a large desk taking up most of the space inside the small room. She leaned in, drawing in a sharp, unwitting breath as a familiar design registered to her. She had seen it years ago, just a glimpse of it in police file carelessly left with her in the interrogation room. With trembling fingers, Seras reached out for the picture.
It made no sense. Why would the criminal organisation her father had infiltrated so many years ago be part of any case in Rickmansworth? But then why would it not? It had been nearly half a century; it made more sense that they would move rather than not. She opened the file, skimming over the handwritten summary which made up the first page. Names, places; she recognised Maurice Collins' name, of course. Her father was on the list as well, though his name was placed in parentheses after a crossed through name. Possibly the name he had infiltrated the organisation under.
Matthew Cribbons; the men who had come to their house hadn't called him Matthew. Or if they had, she had no recollection of it.
Seras snapped the file shut.
She was a vampire in service of the Hellsing organisation. Had she come across such information thirty years ago, she would have followed it to the ends of the earth to uncover who had killed her parents and seek her revenge. As matters stood, she could do nothing against humans. Sir Integra wouldn't allow it.
Fate sure had a twisted sense of humour.
The sound of heavy boots trampled abovehead. She heard her name being called. "Down in the basement!" she called back, recognising Farnsworth's distinctive timbre. Gracious, writing a report for the mission was going to be a headache.
Pain radiated in his gut, or rather the phantom of it so often resulting from his childe's restorative death-slumber. He suppressed it, knowing all too well their bond would see to it that her own ache was mitigated. It was familiar enough a memory by that point that he minded it none. Her distress continued to rustle in his head as the well-lit room with its blood-splattered walls and gawping corpses melted away. Unusual as the occurrence was, he only looked to the bleeding child on the ground, then strewn across a shadowed path, lit only by the thin golden glow of old streetlamps. Morphing, twisting and lengthening, the girl grew into the draculina he knew so well. Drained of life, the porcelain-quality of her skin became more pronounced in the swelling mirk. She was standing to her feet, eyeing the nothingness ahead with a distrustful gaze. It wasn't fear he felt rolling off of her. It was savage anger; delicious, blood-pounding ire. A flash of faces paraded before them, none of which he recognised.
The tension broke with an audible sound. Finding himself awake and staring at the padded interior of his coffin, he blinked sluggishly; she called to him, begging the relief of closeness offered by the ligature so ingrained between them. Alucard reached out towards his fledgling, realising belatedly what the cracking noise had been. The shadows swept him away.
She was climbing out of her coffin just as he materialised before her. Having perhaps expected his presence, she did not even startle at the approach, though he saw the slow build of tension in her muscle. "This is the second time now, police girl."
"You don't have to say it like that," she muttered crossly, eyes rising in a glare. When asleep, the walls of her mind were weak. Awake, however, she managed to mount a good enough approximation of what should be protecting her thoughts. The barrier remained sturdy against his delicate prodding, revealing neither crack nor fissure he might exploit in a bid to reach deep within her. He could, naturally, simply crush the whole of it under a sledgehammer blow of power; his draculina was strong, but nowhere near his strength yet. That would come, in time. "And you don't have to be here every time this happens, you know."
To say that after she had fairly begged to have him by her side; he snarled at her inability to grasp even the most basic aspects of their bond over the length of time they'd had together. He did not correct her, however; it would not do to feed her the information like she was some ignorant cretin. "I wouldn't, if a certain childe of mine didn't insist on disturbing my rest at every given opportunity." If only she'd concentrate half of that incredible willpower of hers into embracing her true self, she'd become a most worthy No-Life Queen in no time. Finally someone who could hope to stand proudly by his side.
"I don't." She stood to her full, albeit unimpressive, height, hands on her hips. Thirty years of hearing her constantly in his head had somehow worked towards an impression of grandeur on his part. Yet she'd remained, as before, a slip of a thing. "You can always just ignore me if I'm that much of a bother. You did it well enough before." Her voice had started to gain volume and that unsightly shrillness women had a fondness of whenever they called to mind some imagined slight. "I swear sometimes I don't even know why you bothered to turn me into a vampire to begin with if all I'm ever going to be is a nuisance."
"Might I remind you, my dear police girl, that it was your choice to come with me." He could feel the shadows lengthening around them, the violent shiver shaking them vigorously. Seras' own shades trembled in opposition. Planned to challenge him, did she? A low growl emitted from behind his firmly clenched teeth when she squared her shoulders. His warning was met with an obstinate sonorous grunt as his childe set herself against him. Thirty years hadn't cured her of that unguarded, impudent tongue. It was you who pleaded to be saved, you little wretch. I merely acquiesced.
Her eyes widened, losing some of their innocent shine, as a rather malevolent streak asserted itself in their depths. "What was I supposed to do? Keel over and die? Of course I took what you offered! It wasn't much of a choice!" She resembled a proper vampire then, with her fangs bared, her eyes gleaming with fire and her moue set ever mulishly. She forgot, nevertheless, that he was master and she yet bound to him. And thus she would remain until she took his blood. He had offered it to her, some thirty years past, and she had refused. If she wished him to abide by their erstwhile bond, than she too had to follow along properly.
Without warning, he grabbed hold of her shoulders, fingers digging into soft flesh. The movement was meant to pin her into place, unless she wished to have her shoulders torn though. But Seras either did not see the danger or blatantly chose to ignore it, because the next thing he knew, she was pushing against him with unexpected strength. Forced back, he held fast onto her, knowing she would either come with him or bear deep gashes to show for her foolhardy resistance. The draculina fell forth though, struggling and pushing all the way, demanding he release her. As if he would be swayed by her word alone in that. Alucard rolled them over, bringing his forearm against her chest and pressing down viciously. The soft tissue beneath him gave way and the fledgling flailing uselessly let out a sharp keening sound. Seras snapped her teeth at him, pointed fangs clashing together. He snarled back at her, pressing punishingly into her small body once more. She whimpered and twisted. "Release me. Let me go."
For her part, Seras forced her body to pause in its fruitless endeavours after a time. Any movement she made only served to increase the pressure he exerted. Somehow they had ended up arguing once again. In spite of her intentions not to let her temper get the best of her, to show her master that she was a capable vampire and do him proud, she'd only managed to irk him. In her defence, he'd been the one to needle her first, forever trying to get under her skin and get a rise out of her. Well he'd succeeded; she was annoyed beyond belief at him. "Just get off of me and leave me alone." Her voice came out in what sounded suspiciously like a whine.
Knuckles dug under her chin and forced her face up. "You chose this, police girl." He was still on about that? Seras frowned. The steel band trapping her to the ground shoved uncomfortably into her breasts, painful but no less mortifying than the leather clad knee jabbed between her thighs, dangerously close to her very naked and increasingly aware intimate parts. If she were able to blush, she was fairly certain she'd resemble a tomato. Thankfully for her, vampires cycled their blood much too slow for such displays. Instead she wiggled as gently as she could, testing the strength of the vampire above her. He remained an immovable wall, holding her gaze demandingly. At least he took notice of nothing else.
Best keep him on course then. "Very well, I chose this. Are you happy now?" With the hands he'd trapped between them, she pushed at his chest. "Now get off, won't you? I can't be expected to hold your weight." In truth, the heaviness as not an unpleasant one and did not hurt in the least. It marked her as the weaker of the pair, to be sure; but then her master was a marvel. Such a creature could surely not be easily equalled. She wasn't bothered by the knowledge that he was her superior in such things. It was only natural that the more experienced and longer-lived vampire would be stronger. What bothered her was the response she had for it. And if he didn't move his arse that side of the century, she would not be held accountable for her actions.
Thankfully, her master seemed to be pleased enough with his victory. Her allowing that she had indeed chosen her path was followed by a slow release of pressure. Her abused chest smarted from the brutal treatment and she resisted the urge to raise her hands to it in comfort. Alucard climbed back to his feet, his shadows, darker than the blackness of night, swirled around them menacingly still. Seras sat up, tucking her legs under her and glaring at the elder Midian. "You got what you wanted; you can go now, Master."
As soon as the words left her mouth, long finger threaded through her locks, tugging her head back sharply, pulling painfully on her scalp. "You never learn," her master snorted. "Keep a civil tongue in that head of yours, police girl, or I will rip it out." And then he was gone, leaving behind nothing but the faint scent clinging to his skin ghosting around her.
Seras straightened her neck, rising small fingers to soothe over the burn in her scalp. She massaged the painful area for a few moments, wincing as the remnants of force caused a tingling sensation in her flesh. Hopefully, he'd gone back to his coffin and would not re-emerge before dusk. She did not plan on doing anything other than heading straight for her own coffin, sealing herself in and hopefully resting without another moment's disturbance.
In fairness, she couldn't help but think she'd reacted no better than a toddler to the whole affair. Her master was difficult to please. She had know as much for a long enough time that she ought not to have risen to his teasing. He wasn't doing it to hurt her. Even recognising that, her heart had still squeezed painfully in her chest at the admonishment. What rotten luck. Seras crawled her way back into her coffin, pulling the lid over. The plain interior boasted a comforting scent and the darkness safely enveloping her made her even more aware of the day's pull. Her tired body demanded its rest, urging her to throw any reservations to the wind. Her master would not be coming back for some time; she had ensured that with her little display. Sir Integra was probably poring over paperwork, the bane of her existence, and would not call her up. In truth, she didn't think the woman would be calling her up anymore, what with master's return. It was Alucard that was bound to her, after all, and not Seras. She had kept the woman safe in her master's stead for a time but that did not change the truth of the matter.
Stilling herself, she closed her eyes, drawing within herself, leaving behind everything and everyone. She would sleep and after she would wake refreshed. Perhaps she might even have enough strength to give another stab at conversing with her master. At the very least to offer an apology for her behaviour. She knew it was too much to hope that he'd give any sort of apology for him. A huff left her at the thought before she could catch herself. Stupid master and his stupid pride; tendrils of anger slowly crept their way back into her mind. Seras groaned at the exhausting task that was keeping herself in check when it came to Alucard and his antics. One would think thirty yeas more than enough time to build up a store of patience, yet not one week after his return they were back at each other's throats. She could only hope a worthy mission popped up soon; it wasn't good to have too much frustration repressed with nary a manner of release in sight. God, just let another insipid little worm pop its way into existence nearby so she could tear it to shreds; even that would do.
A/N: Now I know Seras might come across as a bit less childish than what the source material indicates, but I'm kinda going off of the fact that being without Big Red and Dangerous for thirty years would have matured her some...hopefully. Anyway, I'm hoping it came out ok.
