The Doctor.

Mad, helpful, scientist, doctor, and a pure genius. He's one of the most important figures in Millennia. Without him, the World War II of Hellsing would be finished the moment Girlycard and Young Walter was deployed. Heck, without him, there's no need of using Girlycard or Young Walter. Not only that, he had created armies of ghouls, the first to create artificial vampire, and of course, the Dr. Frankenstein of Schrodinger.

All in all, if you got some questions, then he's the one you should ask. Unless you're not a Millennia member, then you're probably going to get yourself caged into his not-sex dungeon as a not-slave. Fortunately, though I was forced, I was still a member of Millennia, and I had no doubt that he had installed the chip.

So, as an idea formed itself into my mind, I lifted two racks full of sharpies with an ease that still mildly terrified me, and skipped back to the Doctor, who gave me that rare bout of frown, and curiosity. The same emotion was also on the little jailbait's face, though it was a tad more curious and mischievous.

"You do know zat you only need one weapon, ja?"

I grinned, and it was this time that I noticed how sharp my teeth was. It made me wonder if doing blowjob is going to be possible or not, in the case I was going bottom. Which thankfully, I won't. I'm much more of a top than a bottom.

This implying I was ever going go gay, as in Homosexual, and not gay as in Happy. It would be pretty awkward if people misunderstood me for saying, 'I like to be gay'.

I gave the Doctor a smirk as I plucked a stiletto from the rack, something that seemed to make him blink. How I knew that was an unknown. "I'm going to use it all," I said confidently as I turned around, aiming, and quickly threw the stiletto to the far side of the room. It stuck perfectly to my target. "As throw able objects,"

Thank god for that throwing knife lesson my father taught me.

I turned back again to see the Doctor's look of shock turned in manic grin. Damn, I'm on a roll. Alucard may be going to, metaphorically, fuck me in my virginal ass like a bunny in heat, and then proceeded to literally eat me raw, but at least I was going to have my fucking moment!

"But," I said suddenly, a frown on my face. "I'm still not sure how I would carry them all. I have an idea," it could probably my specialty. "But I haven't tried it yet. If this fails, then I'm asking you for help,"

I took another dagger, this time a dirk, and there was this strange feeling within me. It's like that feeling of holding yourself from excreting your unused remain, except instead of pain and the risk of failed kidney, or constipation, it was more of an itching. Like the need to scratch your testicles.

So I scratch that itch, and immediately I felt something cleared within myself, and as I opened my eyes, I found the dirk in my hand gone. Not gone as ingone. It was still there, somewhere within myself, and all I need to summon it was a simple pull.

I simply did that, and there was an odd feeling, like kicking a bitch in the cunt—uncomfortable, but fun regardless— and the dirk slid out of my palm until I gripped the hilt.

"Huh," I turned to look at the Doctor. "So that happened. That was easy,"

The Doctor nodded happ—manically as he grabbed my arm. "Yes, indeed. Your specialty is a dimensional storage," he mused, before releasing my dirk gripping arm. "Go try storing a heavier weapon,"

Not one to argue with the genius in the room, I quickly stored my dirk away, before grabbing the buster sword replica by the hilt, and storing it inside me.

There was a tingling feeling, like receiving a bad touch from the Pastor, before I suddenly felt... heavier. Not heavier as in I could only walk slowly, but heavier like I was strapped with very light chains across my body.

I doubt storing five of those large swords would affect me much. Ten will, probably.

"How do you veel?" the Violator of my mind and body asked.

"Heavier. Seems like every object I store is contributed into my mass..." I plucked another large sword from the rack, before storing them again. This time, I stomped the floor, and cracks began to appear on the white tiles, before it somehow recovered. "Yep, it's my mass,"

"Hmm, interesting..." then he simply shrugged."Vell, vhat do you want to do now?"

I looked at the racks of weapon, then at the Doctor. "Give me a minute,"

Then I began to store every sharpie I could fit into my body without affecting much of my velocity, what with the gravity and all that jazz.

Soon enough, I returned to the Doctor who gave me a frown. "You need a more fitting uniform," he opined, before exiting the door with a very mischievous Schrodinger in tail, leading me to what I guessed to be where I will be officially baptized as a Nazi.

I was a student of English Literature, and now I'm becoming a Nazi with the simple purpose of causing war, and the Major's pawn.

()_()_()

It was twenty minutes later that I was fully suited with a Millennium-grade—because Millennium takes military to the next level— Nazi uniform, and a dark green army trench coat with the Swastika emblems on both side of my shoulder, without the pouches. Because who needs fucking pouches when you're a human pocket?

For some reason, the Doctor gave me a badge with another Swastika on it.

I sighed, storing it into my hammer-space as I followed him to God's knows where. Along the way, the mini jailbait had decided to go somewhere; probably to the Major. God knows he's a major (pun!) cat lover.

I sighed, looking at the swastika emblem on my shoulder. What the fuck am I becoming? I shook my head tiredly. I'm not human anymore, that's for sure. I'm in the faction that wants to cause war, and I'm going to kill a lot of people. Whether I like it or not.

It was that feeling of helplessness that kept on bugging me like an overly attached stalker, always sending photos of me bathing everyday in the morning, and emailing me detailed message of how she wants to play with me.

I shook my head. Don't fucking brood, Jaime! You're not some angst filled teenager bent on becoming a pancake on the road as a fucking life goal. If I had to kill, then so be it! Don't be a broody, superbly-emotional teenager.

Of course, it was then that the Universe decided to shove my words right into my throat like a drunken abusive father, as we entered a room full of people— civilians, seven of them, tied in seven line poles. Their eyes wide with terror as they stared at me like the angel of Death.

And they may be correct.

The Doctor pointed his hand at the tied innocents, an insane and mad grin on his face as he commanded me, "Kill them."

The seven innocents looked in terror, and tears of fear began to pour from their red eyes as they screamed under the gags, pleading for mercy. For the unfairness that is life.

The selfless part of me, that one voice of kindness, told me not to kill them. That it was better them than I; that I wasn't worth seven lives. That even though I won't be alive, everything was going to be alright.

Then the selfish part of me, the cold and cruel, calmly told me that it was better I than them. That I was more important than them, that my life was far more worth it. After all, I wasn't human anymore, and what's the difference between the seven lives in front of me if not than a mere animals?

Animals. Yes, they're just animals; trapped mice. What's wrong with killing animals? It's alright to slaughter pigs, then it's alright to slaughter the seven in front of me right?

Yes, they're just animals. You can raise them, you can pet them, you can kill them, you can coexist with them, and you definitely can slaughter them.

Thus, with a stoic facade, and my red eyes, I raised my arms against them, and with it, I rained blades of death through them. Their scents of blood wafted in the air, sneaking itself into my nostrils before I emptied them of their blood into naught but empty husks.

Bloodlust is one hell of a boost, I tell you.