The mouse's new cage was carried down into Alucard's lair, and soon Maxwell and Anderson could view the dim chamber. The great empty chair was ignored as the mouse was lowered to the stone floor, a metallic echo ringing against the high walls and ceiling of darkness above. Outside the view of the camera, the Iscariots heard the nosferatu lift the cover of his coffin, and silently enter. The lid closed, and the chamber was silent.
But the Iscariots were surprised by a sudden chirp, which they took a moment to identify as a frightened squeak. It came a second time, as the camera quivered within the cage.
As before, when it'd been assaulted by Integra Hellsing, the small rodent was a ball of anxiety, puffed out and fattened to seem 'intimidating' (failing miserably), while its tail was stiff and high, pointed in the air. Rigid with fear.
Without cause, it suddenly reacted to an unseen assailant, leaping across the cage and flinging the paper shreds beneath it. In unexplained terror, the mouse spun in circles, then hopped fretfully into and out of the depths of the paper bedding. With a rattling the Vampire Alucard did not react to, the mouse hurled itself into the bars of the metal trap – the makeshift cage, before used to catch live vermin in the vents and lower regions of the estate. In the dimness, while light was only present at the border of the chamber, the mouse scurried erratically, causing the Iscariots to believe it'd gone mad with fright. Which did not seem improbable.
Alexander Anderson looked on with mild pity for the tiny creature. Enrico Maxwell bit into his finger, gnawing a knuckle as he stared nervously at the monitor, dreading the moment the camera broke and the screen went black. It would be because of the little vermin, or the Hellsing Protestant and her vampiric scum… Who would he blame?
…
Everywhere. Everywhere- the Attacking Female was all around, in the darkness- circling, CIRCLING! What to do- What to do? Coming? Coming?
No. No- yes? … There, THERE! Over there! No- THERE! No? No? Where? Here? No, no there? Over there? No? …
Shadow objects were being thrown into its eyes, the objects the Cold Young One had made into a nest-shelter, knocked down so easily. No threat then, no. No threat then. But- but then! The Attacking Female, hunting it-! HUNTING IT! And nowhere to burrow! No Protector to hold it! Take it away! Yes, at the end, yes the Protector-Master had come! Saved it. Yes. Saved it.
But the Attacking Female was out there now, beyond the bars now, looking in now, and circling- circling, here- NO! There, over there! No? … No? … Then here! … No?
It was motionless. Quiet. Stillness. Death- death here? No? No- Protector-Master. Protector-Master!
It threw itself wildly against the bars, making the cage rattle. The water spilled, soaking into the bedding – wet, its coat wet. Cold, cold and the Attacking Female-! Here? No.
There was a gap, discovered while squirming over the bars, where the door was, how it had entered – around a coiled wire. Now, head fitting through- the rear? Back legs? Squeezing- slipping- Through! Through! And it leapt onto the chilling stones, landing on light paws. It stood, rigid. Cold. Fear. Over there? …No? …There!- no. No?
It saw the black structure, felt and smelled the Protector inside. Must run- must hide! There! Protector- there!
Scratching, scratching. Come out! Come out! Up! Up! Take up! Hold! –HOLD UP!
…
After squeezing through the gap around the spring that opened the gate-like door of the cage, the mouse flew like a shadow that was dashed against the side of the Vampire Alucard's sarcophagus. It scratched and clawed furiously at the ebony surface, a rapidity unceasing in sound. Within, the terror was amplified, and bright molten-fire eyes appeared from the mass of blackness within the coffin. These fiery orbs shifted towards the source of the disturbance, and then the head of the forming creature rolled in the direction of the mouse, separated by black wood. The eyes flicked up as the mouse landed against the side of the coffin – and then, with another leap, reached the top.
Pushing the lid up gently, light scraping was heard. And so the lid was shut immediately. The mouse was puffed with confusion, tail high, beady mouse eyes gaping, chest fluttering after having begun to slip off the coffin. A high squeak broke like a scream in the Iscariot's room, making Father Anderson flinch and then lean forward sharply, gazing with his glasses shining and darkening instantly as the mouse and the camera were pulled into nothingness. A large gloved hand had seemingly swallowed the tiny mass of fur, causing the terrified squeak. The hand passing through the wood, drawing the captured rodent into the mass of formless darkness, and darkness that resembled contours of natural things – such as the head with burning eyes shining out of it. The mouse seemed to float, not seeing or knowing, unable to detect where it was in space, what its orientation might be, should be – on the side, upside-down, all unknown. But then it met the satin that cushioned the bottom of the casket, and the frightened tail lowered, gradually, as the little mouse calmed. Surrounded by the Protector-Master, the embodiment of two feelings that reassured the tiny beast… No Integra Hellsing could reach it here. No blade could skewer it, no book could smash it – it was safe.
Maxwell and Father Anderson had caught a glimpse of the glowing eyes, their skin icy and their breaths absent as they stared into the blank screen. Knowing that it was not empty, that the darkness was the interior of the Vampire Alucard's coffin, as well as the form of the monster himself. The eyes again came into view, burning into their faces from the monitor. Dominating it, lidless and round. Ghastly, though the mouse did not seem frightened. The humans were speechless and at a loss as to how they might use this insight, dreading the incessant feeling that nothing could be had from it. Father Anderson let the Mouse-Cam record, as, perhaps, something might be acquired later.
The deep, reverberating voice - disjointed, it echoed, as if consisting of many distinct beings, united into one identity – or else an infinitely condensed space in a mobbed world. "Never harm my coffin."
The mouse did nothing but focus on the eyes, keeping the camera set upon their light. Both the miracle of the disembodied demonic orbs, the shifting of shadows, of nothingness and something beyond Godly wholesome creation… and the voice… These were caught by the men who leaned into the light of the monitor. Maxwell held his tea in his lap, barely warm now, and unfelt by his severed hands. His head severed from his neck, his eyes taken from his skull and suspended – all of his physical body invested in his sight as he witnessed this phenomenon – this forbidden realm in undeath.
Protector-Master? Loud. Aggression, growling. "Bad?" Bad, bad? What was "bad?" Climbing on- the image of the black shape, black structure it was now in. The Protector-Master's? It was- belonging to. Yes. "Bad?" No longer… climb on. Bad to climb.
"No climbing. … And now… No chewing, gnawing, or eating. (Absolutely no relieving yourself.) You will have to wait, since you refused to stay in your cage. When Walter went through the trouble of preparing it for you, and provided you with seeds and nuts and water – you also had bread, you spoiled vermin. Now. … Let me sleep, or else I'll let Integra have you."
…
There was no use staying, seeing as the vampire would be sleeping for nearly nine hours, or even longer. Maxwell left as Father Anderson was given the duty of ending the recording and saving the file, storing it in the folder: Hellsing sow flees from tiny domesticated mouse. (Of course, named by Maxwell.) Father Anderson frowned with disapproval, and after naming the new recording: Demon Coffin – he changed the previous file to: Evidence 1. The exhausted paladin grunted as he detached himself from his chair, reaching up to stretch with creaking limbs. Taking off his glasses to rub at an eye, the priest replaced them before switching off the light and shutting the door.
*~*~::..+..::~*~*
The mouse's nose barely reached over the lip of the cereal bowl when it was set on the kitchen counter, brimming with fresh water. The tiny creature was stretched to the utmost extent of its length, back paws barely touching the granite – its little clawed toes lifting and returning to the counter. As its pointed face was dipped into the water, a pink tongue lapped at a ridiculous pace. A nudge from Alucard's hand, moving the bowl closer, caused the water to slosh, and it dunked the mouse's head into the cool liquid. The mouse pulled back, blinking, sneezing - droplets that hung from the long whiskers were flung in every direction, with each convulsive squeak. A large gloved finger carefully touched the mouse's head, between its ears. And the vampire petted it, gently, slightly apologetic. Though nothing was said.
The aged Angel of Death watched from the other side of the island, set in the center of the kitchen. Ms. Barrie, gone for the evening, having returned home. Dinner had already been cooked, served, and eaten. The mercenaries would continue to eat, drink, and enjoy themselves as nothing more was to be done with them at present. As with most evenings, they spent unstructured hours amusing themselves, their training sessions overseen by Seras Victoria being the exception. Which was something that would soon commence, to keep the men out of trouble. And speaking of Seras Victoria… Walter waited for Alucard to finish petting the mouse. Eventually he did, and the little beast resumed lapping at its bowl (rather a pond) of water.
"Do you think it would be more appropriate if Miss Victoria became the official caretaker? It'll have a regular domestic, house-pet environment, living in her room."
Alucard looked at nothing, becoming thoughtful. "Have we decided to keep the mouse? Against Integra's wishes?"
Walter smiled at the vampire, who took up less room in the kitchen now than he had before. Having left the red trench coat in the lower levels. The levels which had once served as the Hellsing laboratory. And had continued to hold the Vampire Alucard.
"Sir Integra hasn't been asked, quite yet. Though I'd like to think she would be… gracious enough to reconsider. Keeping her notorious enemy, close."
"Walter, you are a sadist, aren't you?"
The grin spread wide, and the old blue eyes glinted with wry humor. "Oh my. … 'Sadist'? Coming from you?"
Alucard smirked.
The old man chuckled softly, "We are in trouble then. Me, a sadist, in the eyes of our infamous sadist-King."
There was a heavy laugh, and Alucard leaned against the counter. The mouse looked up at the towering white back and the black, trailing mane – but only briefly, before it crouched down and rubbed its head and licked its fur vigorously, giving itself a bath. The vampire surveyed the old man, the old friend before him, still amused, "Don't elevate me to such levels, Angel. Sadist-King? That's legend, at this time. Monster. Blood-thirsty beast. Demon Spawn-" Another eruption of humor broke out over the kitchen, a certain Judas Priest wrinkling his brow, not appreciating the beast's mirth in connection to the unholy title Father Anderson had given it. But the Vampire Alucard was in a calm, yet merry mood, in all appearances. Reclining on the kitchen counter, chatting with the Hellsing butler. Circumstances that did not appear to be the norm… No. The Vampire Alucard did not belong in the kitchen.
It belonged in a crypt, underground. Away from human life and feeling.
Walter resumed the mouse-subject, still smiling and warm, "Should we bother bringing it to the pet store? I'm not sure they'd accept our little friend. The 'Little Alucard'."
"Oh no, don't even attempt it, Angel. No 'Little Alucard'. Integra doesn't need to associate my face with a creature she detests."
"Hm? A creature she detests?"
The vampire snorted and red eyes narrowed, for the feigned innocence in the 'question,' "Oh, she doesn't quite detest me. I wouldn't say that. No. We get along, swimmingly."
Walter found this equally enjoyable, and was left chortling to himself. He was looking towards the door, expecting the visit Alucard had not been informed of. "Be sure not to drown."
"I can manage."
"Of course you can."
"But what of the mouse? Are we making it a permanent addition to the Hellsing Organization? Perhaps accepting an 'Iscariot operative' would improve our relations with the Vatican…"
Integra stepped in as Walter was enjoying Alucard's comment, laughing, creating a relaxing, homey setting. Warmth, she was not too accustomed to feeling, wafted into her face, her cheeks, and relaxed her hard eyes. She found Alucard, and beside him-
The rat.
On the counter. … Where her meals were prepared. God Lord, Jesus – what are they thinking?
Her finger indicated 'the rat' as Alucard smirked at her, an obnoxious expression she'd be unable to erase. "That. Off the counter. Out of my kitchen."
"On the floor then?" The vampire reveled in the look of hatred this suggestion earned, and long ivory fangs shone momentarily. "No? Not to your taste? It will eat your crumbs and keep your floor clean-"
"I have maids for that." Integra snapped, tolerating the unamusing humor, as she addressed Walter and demanded to know when 'the rat' would be thrown out of her home.
"Sir, I was considering…" His old blue eyes were frightfully similar to the Vampire Alucard's at this moment, and Integra glared at her butler, daring him to imitate the demon – who was excused because he just couldn't help himself. But Walter, no you won't be excused. No rat jokes. Don't you dare. Walter smiled at her, and went on, "I was considering keeping the mouse-"
"ABSOLUTELY NOT." Her bludgeoning tone beat down his words, knocking them dead against the tiled floor.
"I thought it might be a good opportunity to address your musophobia – since, really Sir, mice are quite friendly – when domesticated."
"Are you mad, Walter? Have you LOST your mind? … No! I told you I want it out of the house. I want it either dead or sent away somewhere, where I won't have to see it."
"So, we may let Miss Victoria look after it-?"
Integra Hellsing scowled at the butler, her blue eyes dangerous and her tone biting, as she batted away his needless alternatives, "No. I don't want it living under this roof. I'll have it dead by morning, unless you get rid of it tonight."
"But that wouldn't give me enough time to contact the pet store and see whether they'd like to take in a new addition." The calm, elderly smile was immune to the young woman's irritation. In fact, it fed off of it. Like a vampire.
"Don't you kill my mouse." Alucard enjoyed the fury this demand produced. Integra seemed to inflate with hatred, perhaps to be distributed between the nosferatu and the rodent, probably unequally. But which would receive the greater portion…? The vampire could not decide.
"Fine. Then I'll have you eat it."
His amusement plunged, leaving his dead features barren – for the moment – and Alucard responded, "My, that's simply barbaric. Are you just now becoming your great-uncle? Not even he would have asked for such an atrocious feat, as eating my beloved pet…"
"Oh," the unimpressed Hellsing heiress lifted a brow, exasperation sedated in her dark features. "'Beloved' is it? Your little rat? You've already got a pet. Her name's Seras."
"The Police Girl isn't a pet, Integra. That would be inhumane. And you, proposing to demote a girl to a pet, or slave, to be mine – to do with as I please?"
"Alucard. You aren't funny."
"Why is that?" The pale lips curved, as the tips of the monster's fangs appeared between them.
Integra viewed the teeth with crossed arms and a silent snort of suppressed humor, "Your jokes are tasteless."
Turning, Alucard's fangs were completely unsheathed, "They're really quite delectable. Don't you agree, Walter?"
The butler remained on the outskirts of the semi-skirmish of sarcasm and verbal, nonsensical acrobatics. "No. …Not quite, wholeheartedly – I'm afraid."
"What? I'm not a delightful socialite? Why wasn't I told?"
Integra came close to groaning, her aggravation soaring as the vampire's game persisted. "I believe you have been. Multiple – countless times, Alucard."
"I thought I was charming."
"….No…. No, if someone yells at you and is forced to call you an idiot, it means you've exceeded their capacity to put up with your unpleasantness."
"Oh – how disheartening. And here I believed it to be a term of endearment between us. I have been grossly misled. I feel quite betrayed, by both of you." Alucard looked down at the mouse which had scurried to his elbow – as Integra rolled her eyes at his lackluster tone. "You, you're my new favorite." And with this, the demon petted the little mouse head, which lowered as the small creature's eyes squinted at each stroke. "Yes. You. Are…"
"Am I supposed to be jealous?" Integra frowned, uncaring and unimpressed by her servant's behavior.
"What? Of the fact that you don't have a mouse of your own? You can have the Police Girl. She'd let you pet her."
Walter cleared his throat before the nonsense could resume, or the degree of "petting" could be expanded upon. Yet the man was smiling at his mistress when he spoke, "I was hoping to propose that you, Sir Integra, might adopt the mouse. To get used to it – familiarize yourself with it-"
"For what reason? … I'm no masochist. Be reasonable." With a shrug of her shoulder, Integra dislodged the proposal.
However, Walter seemed to recover it with ease. "To, as I suggested, reduce your phobia of rats, including mice. It would be helpful. And the mouse won't hurt you. You don't even need to hold it. Not until-"
"Not until never."
Alucard murmured, making the blue Hellsing eyes flare, "That goes against what you intended to say, dearest Master…. If it's not never, then it will be, at some time-"
"Quiet you. I'm having a conversation."
With a furrowed brow that was betrayed by his fanged simper, Alucard continue to tug at Integra's temper with a tenacity that disturbed the Iscariot viewers. "And I'm not invited? That's unheard of."
"Of course you aren't. Now off with you, go play with your miniature- 'beloved' rat."
"Oh goody." The lengthened purr clawed at Integra's nerves, causing her mouth to twitch and her eyes to narrow.
"…I said, I wanted quiet."
"Hm… Yes, my Master."
The narrowed blue eyes matured into a glare, upon seeing the demon's smirk – that, unfortunately, only widened at her expression. Integra sighed, and turned back to Walter. Pausing, she waited for her thoughts, the conversation to return, but the Vampire Alucard had already succeeded in muddling everything. As usual. Well, Walter should remember – though there was something depressing about a nearly twenty-three year old woman needing to rely on a sixty-nine year old man's memory… Something… very depressing about that.
The sixty-nine year old memory successfully resumed the topic: "Might I allow Miss Victoria to keep the mouse? Your phobia is something that we should address."
Dully, Integra crossed her arms, reclining back on a counter as she viewed the old man; trying to pull patience from her mental reserves. Ugh- "Why, Walter? Just give me- several good reasons that I can agree with, and will convince me to go along with your scheme of nonsense."
"Well. Luckily I have one very good reason, or else I'd be fighting a losing battle, it seems." Walter smiled at his mistress as she continued to stare at him, humorless. The butler's expression faded, and as he grew more serious, Integra straightened. "Well, Sir. Your 'evaluations' may at some time include a test of possible phobias towards animals-"
"Walter, they check to see whether my mind has deteriorated – it only has to do with keeping Alucard… WHY, would they want to know whether I like rats? Are vampires rats? Am I afraid of vampires? No. I'm not. And I don't need to like rats."
The Hellsing vampire interrupted, disobeying the previous order, with a perverse look of quizzical humor. "As you know, but have conveniently excluded: vampires can control rats. Some, legitimate undead creatures, at least, can. If I knew of your weakness, and I was your enemy, Integra, I'd flood your mansion, fill it to the ceiling with-"
"Shut up! Don't you dare…" But the anger diminished itself when it supported Walter's argument, rather than her own. The resentment in the blue Hellsing eyes was received by the Angel of Death with a tight twinge; the old man's features emptied as he cast off the unpleasantries that he was so accustomed to. Adhering to his duty…. though, it was a part he performed reluctantly.
"As you can see, Sir Integra. There is a definite problem, if you cannot even withstand a description of a hypothetical, and not wholly impossible, situation. Though, Alucard is the only vampire Arthur or myself ever knew to have this ability."
As if all this could be blamed on Alucard, Integra set her sharp cobalt stare on the dead face, and of course received a daggered smile for the compliment. "Yes. You have that delightful ability," she delivered the statement in full monotone.
Alucard's grin opened to reveal the rows of glistening fangs, and his delight at her disgust.
The woman's eye twitched, and she frowned, but kept her arms crossed, and maintained eye contact – with her undead nuisance. "You can control all rodents?"
"Yes."
"Mice?"
"As you have seen."
"Rats?"
"Oh, yes."
"Ferrets?"
"I adore them, and yes. So versatile."
Intagra tilted her head, blinking slowly. "Rabbits?"
"Cotton-tailed things with long ears? Why not? And Walter can make the soup. It'll be delicious-"
"Oh, then it's clear that we have failed to exploit this invaluable avenue, truly. You would be perfect in the garden. I'll string you up on a crucifix and you'll keep the bunnies and squirrels out of the vegetables- can you take care of squirrels, Alucard? Or am I asking too much?"
"You cannot leave me out in the sun."
A blonde brow rose, and for the first time that day, Integra smiled perceptibly. …Though, it was more of a malicious smirk, which caused the vampire's eyes to shine. "I'd forgotten that the Scarecrow asked for brains. …You will wear your fedora of course. That should keep you out of the sun."
"It doesn't quite work that way, given that my hat is composed of shadows. And the sun is rather good at negating darkness."
"We won't be sure of that unless we test it thoroughly."
"You haven't been authorized to conduct tests, Integra."
She merely scoffed at her monster, "My garden's well-fare is rather important to me. I'm sure I'll get clearance."
As the babble continued in the Iscariots' ears, they plucked strands of useful, though not entirely new, information from the sarcastic exchanges. They had not suspected that psychiatric evaluations had been instated. It was something the Vatican had labored to have the Counsel establish nearly sixty years ago (biannual check-ups, specifically) – but they, at least the Iscariot, had never been informed of their success. The fact that Hellsing was no longer conducting experiments was again, something they had expected but been uncertain of. One of the main reasons Van Hellsing had given for keeping the demon was to have the opportunity to acquire much needed knowledge from the No-Life-King. Supposing that all of that promised knowledge had been acquired, the only reason now for Alucard's use in the Hellsing Organization was his performance in combat.
Though, with Seras Victoria, Maxwell had already gathered parts of a case to dispute the employment of two vampires. One... was all that was allowed. And in addition to this, a human girl had been: 1. Killed by the Vampire Alucard, 2. Bitten by the Vampire Alucard, and 3. Made into a vampire, which, above all, blatantly disregarded the fact that the creation of nosferatu fledglings was forbidden. Yet, none of this had been prepared before the damned ghouls and, what was it, just two vampires? –had decimated the Hellsing Organization, down to one human operative (retired, at that), Sir Integra Hellsing herself, and then the Vampire Alucard and his protégée. This had made the fledgling necessary and legitimized her preservation, supported further by her failure to drink, which kept her at the border of truly becoming the demon's offspring. She could be quantified as the sum of forty or more trained soldiers, near the number that had been lost in the ghoul attack, and- ah, they had been called the Valentine brothers. Yes…
Enrico Maxwell had reveled in Hellsing's misfortune, elated by the utter disgrace that had marred the organization's history. Aha! An anti-vampire organization, wiped out by ghouls! Mere GHOULS! God Lord! It was stupendously ridiculous! How it had come about, Maxwell could not fathom. The Vampire Alucard could have slain them himself, but even with the Angel of Death, Seras Victoria, and the fifty or so active operatives Hellsing had employed – sure, why not count the great Sow herself – with all this, they had suffered such a humiliating near-defeat. No, it should really be counted as a defeat, since it was clear Millennium had achieved their objective. Clearly.
Oh, yes, Jesus is righteous. … Yes. … This demonstrated the superiority of the Catholic Church, of Section XIII. And Enrico himself. Ah… Disgusting heathen Protestant swine. Scum stuck to the underbelly of Christianity. This third generation Hellsing Organization relied entirely upon the Vampire Alucard. So completely, it was beyond nauseating to consider. Father Anderson was in agreement - Enrico had often discussed the matter with the priest. Yes, it was a sin against God to allow an organization, claiming to be in His holy service, to continue to be carried on Lucifer's shoulders.
Just the thought caused Maxwell's jaw to tremble, his hatred boiled in the pale eyes that glowered at the screen, seeing only the rippling bowl of water, as he listened to the repulsive voices... God damn these cretins. Almighty Lord, let us wipe them from your palm of creation. Give us the strength to crush them, to make them repent for their crimes against you, to finally deliver their wretched beast and his spawn into the fires you've set beneath their feet. In the name of the Father, the Son, the Holy Spirit… Amen.
Though Maxwell's hands remained stationed at his desk, he heart was in this prayer – so absorbed, that he lost track of the rambling that continued in the Hellsing kitchen. Father Anderson listened beside him, with much calmer thoughts.
Walter's voice came from the speakers, gaining Maxwell's interest. "At least the Iscariot would have done something helpful. But Sir, while we're on the topic, have you sent a thank you letter to Enrico Maxwell yet?"
"No, not yet Walter. But I plan on sending him a cobra."
"What of Father Anderson?"
"Oh, I don't know. A heathen to behead." And Integra muttered to herself, "That bastard."
Alucard chuckled his way back into the conversation, displeasing his master to no end. To her, his humor surpassed the grating shriek of rusty nails carving a swastika into a chalk-board. "Oh, send me. I want to visit Judas. You'd be surprised how easily I fit into a-"
Integra waved her hand at her tainted mood, the stupidity that dribbled from her (most likely sleep-deprived) servant's mouth, finding both needlessly distracting. "Enough, I have actual work to do. But since you have nothing to occupy yourself with tonight," the Hellsing heir eyed her servant, fully displaying her low expectations, "You might as well aid Seras in training the fruit troops."
"Pineapple Army," Walter corrected, though he wore a supportive smirk.
The woman scoffed, her back already to them as she left the kitchen. "Equally ridiculous."