Anticipation.

Have you ever felt that feeling? Where everything seems to go faster, the smile on your peers' seems more genuine, the praises from your boss sounded actually honest, the comment about your last night performance by your wife felt real, or that smile on your face when you're about to meet the Devil?

That was how the soldiers looked like as they poured into the commanding room like a flood of babies, wearing that shark-like grin like a loon fresh out of the bin. I stood in the background, leaning against the wall with Schrodinger standing beside me.

Funny thing about my rank, really, since technically I'm a Private, and the only Private in the organization. So I should be standing amongst the soldier, but of course, for those in the know, I was more of a lieutenant than a real private. But then, for those who weren't in the know, I was just that unfortunate recruit who is just weak.

I had no doubt that was what the Valentine brothers were thinking when they glanced at me, or at my patch, then at the cat boy beside me, before snorting in amusement. In their thoughts, I was probably some unfortunate recruit being the play toy of the annoying cat boy.

It was probably better that way.

Ah, The Valentine brothers, funny thing how they ended up being recruited into the Millennium in about a month ago, right in the end of the year. They're basically here just like how Alhambra was here. Two wannabe vampire hunters, trying to chew something bigger than they could, and in the end ended up having their throats burst open like a narcotic gone wrong.

Of course, being the lucky guys they are, they were found by some wandering soldiers in some dark alleyways. And basically, the soldiers looked at each other, shrugged, and dragged the dying body to the Doctor for the fuck of it.

They got, well Luke got the lucky ticket and locked himself that nice super speed power, and while Jan wasn't so lucky, his stupidity somehow managed to land him as a Warrant Officer. Seriously, decades in the Millennium, and I still don't even know how the rank system works.

I wouldn't even be surprised if it's just there for the sake of being there.

The Major cleared his throat as soldiers finished pouring into the room. "Welcome, everyone," he greeted, the ever familiar grin slapped on his face. "Today is the day we commemorate the new start of this year, the year where our operation will proceed..."

I tuned him out as I leaned against the wall, it was basically the same thing that he does for every start of the years. Of course, there was a difference this time. I glanced to the small digital calendar on the side of the room.

1999

The year where everything will go, simply said, bat-shit insane. Where the Millennium will start to move that hidden piece on the chessboard, where Seras will be turned to a Vampire somewhence in the future, where the chances of me dying is running high like a legless man dumped on a running treadmill. Oh and where London will burn down to ashes with its millions of population, including infants, but that's not important.

I mentally sighed, feeling more tired than the few decades. The ten months since that day had been okay to me. Well, not okay. I may have had increased my workload, and left more collateral damages, but I blamed that on my increased consumption of blood. I wasn't depressed at all.

Seriously, I wasn't. It was just a withdrawal from having too much blood; becoming too wild, and all that jazz. That said, since my job was basically traveling all around the globe, fellow soldiers began to call me the Exotic blood bank.

It became quite a hobby to collect things. Like weapons, unconventional weapons like the Kerambit, or maybe bottles of blood from people of different races.

Also, Seras is apparently counted as a genius in the Police Academy. I mean, who would've thought? She passed it in four and a half month, when it usually takes six. Apparently, she aced the physical training, and she did well at the Academics.

Then, a month later, she quickly gained a promotion after arresting a serial killer, which surprisingly, isn't a vampire. From a Constable to a Sergeant, which methinks, was the fastest promotion ever in the London Police Department.

There's a hearsay she was going to promoted again to an Inspector, and unsurprisingly, she became quite the mascot of her particular department. Kitten, they called her, and she would be a tiger just in a few months.

Surprisingly, her social life wasn't in ruin. It may not be the best, but apparently she's good friends with both her partners, Eddie and Thomas, which, if I remember, will die in just a few months in Cheddar via dozens of walking flesh.

Much more pleasantly, I think she's not that angry at me if the smile on her face the next day after I sent her that box of silver throwing knives was any sign.

I found it more worryingly that she didn't seem suspicious on how I knew she had completed her Police Academy, and her new apartment. Heck, I found it even more worrying when she didn't even seemed pissed or angry that I had known she entered the police force.

Really, the girl's a police. She needs to be more cautious, though I sincerely hoped she didn't seem suspicious simply because it was just me, and not because she's just that gullible, or trustable. That would be a much bigger problem I need to solve.

That said, I think being in the Police force made her happier than she had ever been, and I won't doubt that throwing skills of hers is going to make a good party trick, or in a game of darts.

Ah, is this what it feels like to be a father who has an offspring he could be proud of?

"... Dismissed."

I snapped back to the realm of reality, watching as the soldiers saluted like a proper boy scouts, grinning all the way to kingdom come before they poured out of the room, leaving the rest of the important members of the organization.

Heh, I counted as important.

There was a moment of silence in the room as the Major took a deep whiff of the air. "Ah," he sighed, sounding a tad wistful for a warmongering bastard. "I love the scent of a war in progress. It makes me rather, what's the word, eager." He chuckled to himself, before tilting his head to the side. "Alhambra and the Valentines, how is the distribution of the Vampirization chips?"

At this, Alhambra, and the Valentines gave a wicked smile. "It's been going rather fine, Major. You would be surprised how many I've got in London and Ireland,"

The Major chuckled gleefully. "Believe me, Lieutenant, I'm not; and how, how about your part, Valentines?"

"We are doing fine, major. The Americans' underground have been very eager with the prospect of immortality," Luke smoothly answered, a self appreciating smirk on his face.

"Ya, Major, especially that Indians. You wouldn't believe the kind of shit they would do for immortality," at this he grinned perversely as his right hand went into a squishing motion. "That petite girl really has a nice ass—urk."

The shoulder on Jan's side pulled away to where it belonged as the owner took a deep breath."Will you stop talking about your unnecessary sex life, brother?"

Jan grumbled. "Fine."

Alhambra, Zorin and Rip sneered at him and at the brothers as well. There weren't any love in our small dysfunctional group. Rip, Zorin, and the Captain was the original members of the Millennium, with Schrodinger as a new addition. Alhambra, I, and the Valentines aren't.

Though I was given a lot less scorn since I worked behind the curtain, and mostly avoided the ones like Zorin, and the only reason I was fine in Rip's book was because I played music to her.

The Major made a humming, almost happy noise. "Well then, keep up the good work." He then tilted his head at me. "And how about you, Private, how's the collecting going?"

I shrugged, a small smile playing on my face. "It's been going swimmingly. I had just stored another dead vampire from Asia into the Doc's storage room," I answered curtly, giving the mad Doctor a nod. "I think you would be happy with it. This one is apparently one of the old ones. Or at least I assumed she was," I shrugged.

"Oh?" the earlier mentioned Doctor raised his eyebrow, the perpetual smile on his face stretched wider. "I'll see about it. I do hope this one would be a real Old one. The last one you brought wasn't even close to one,"

I gave him a shrug. "I wasn't the one who got the information."

"Well then," the Major cut in. "Dismissed."

I nodded my head, giving him a salute, before I sauntered myself out of the room, and it wasn't until I was out of the room that I realized Schrodinger was following me, a mischievous grin on his face as I turned to him, both his hands hiding behind his back.

"What?" I asked, raising an inquisitive eyebrow at the cat boy.

He pulled his hands off his back, his grin doubled as I caught a letter with a pressed mark of Millennium on the top. "A secret message from the Major," he handed me the letter, twirling around as he moved back. "Auf Wiedershen."

And he popped away.

You know, it's kinda ominous when I remembered that Schrodinger only used 'Auf Wiedershen' for a final good bye.

I turned my head to the letter on my hand, red candle pressed with Swastika. Raising an eyebrow, I pocketed it into my pocket, sauntering my way to my room. No need to open a possible secret message in public.

Once I entered my room, and firmly locked the door, I pulled the letter from my pocket and opened the seal, reading the message.

I blinked; a twitch appeared on my face as they paled considerably. A chuckle escaped, quickly turning into a laugh, before it evolved into a hysterical cackle as I slid down to the floor against the door, and for the last time, I was glad that it was heavily sound-proofed.

I glanced at the message once more, before I broke into another bout of cackling like a maniac.

Infiltrate Hellsing.

-Major

"Oh," I managed to let out between gasps. "Aren't you a bit cruel here, Major? And why didn't you just tell me in the room?" I added after an afterthought.

I didn't know how long I cackled and gasped in my own agony, before I finally calmed down, taking a deep refreshing breath as I stood up from the door, and straightened my trench coat.

Now, to find a way how to get rid of the chip.

Thankfully, the Major wasn't quite cruel to send me right away to infiltrate Hellsing, or at least, not while it was day, so I took the time given to take a rest. I would need it for my death-battle. That is, if I could rest, because I couldn't.

Having a not-so subtle metaphorical guillotine over your head, apparently, doesn't feel that nice as people usually hyped it for. Then again, those people took drugs every time that had the chance, and I was going to face a Humanoid Eldritch Abomination, otherwise known as Alucard.

Trying to join the Hellsing was the first idea to cross my mind, since not only that it doesn't technically betray the Major's order, I would also gain safety. Except, I didn't think Alucard would be that generous, nor will Integra be that naive, and getting information about Hellsing to Millennium isn't such a nice prospect to think about.

Thus, I came to the conclusion that I need to get rid of the chip. Why? Because I need to get out of the Major's fatty fingers, and that it would be easier to take side with Hellsing, and having that kill switch would be a nice thing. Though of course, this is saying that Alucard wouldn't kill me first before I reached Integra.

My mind was a whirlwind of random, elaborate, convoluted and chaotic mess of plans; thrown around like Richard Hammond's nice car. I couldn't simply pluck it out of my body. For one, I didn't know where the Doctor placed it, and for two, I don't think storing your organs from inside would be an accurate thing.

A plan formed, and a plan thrown. An idea started, and an idea burned. The same flurry of motions came repetitiously in my head, and I was somewhat surprised that I hadn't received any kind of brain aneurysm.

There was something niggling in the corner of my head, and most definitely my brain going to explode in a mess of grey matter. Something I needed to remember, something that... Oh.

I inwardly smirked. Who needs a plan when you can do a gamble?

That day, I slept rather peacefully for a person who was about to die, or having a fate worse than death in the hands of Alucard himself. That or I'll be able to join and work with Hellsing.

Or I'd have my body burned into ashes by blue flame sprouting from who knows where the doctor placed the chip in, but let's not think negatively.

()_()_()

It didn't take long before I finally reached the Airport in that evening, using an unused jeep, and quickly bought a one-am ticket to London. Waited, and boarded in.

The flight to London was... relatively silent aside from the overly obese man spouting so much shit that I was honestly surprised that he's not dead from how much shit he talked off of his little mouth. Not that it would matter, really, he's probably going to die a year or so from a heart attack, or early if he's staying at London for a time.

Thankfully, the stewardess kindly came and told him to shut the fuck up. The passengers couldn't even sleep with his shitting mouth.

I relished in the silence before the obese man beside me grumbled and began to snore off. Ignoring the god-awful snore, I closed my eyes, and suppressed that urge to pull out a knife and cut his brainstem off if not for the reason that his blood would probably taste too sweet. Nobody would even notice before it was too late, and I doubt they could even track me, what with fake ID and all that jazz.

Except if Hellsing suddenly became involved with it.

Thankfully, the sexy stewardess, as per the standard of every woman who dreamt of being stewardess—so stop ever dreaming becoming a stewardess for you acne-covered girls out there, you would be more successful at a brothel!—came back with a vengeance, eyes twitching as he glared at the fat bastard as apparently someone called a protest at him.

It was, definitely not me.

I gave her a weary smile, in which the sexy brunette stewardess replied back with sorry nod, before she sighed and looked at the fat snoring bastard with that calculating look, probably thinking if murdering the fat bastard would be worth it—which it would!— or should she politely wake up the obese bastard and told him to sit elsewhere.

That's another benefit of being in an early flight. There's a lot of empty sit in the plane, what with the lack of passengers. There were probably about thirty or so, in a plane for fifty people.

Sadly, the brunette woman chose the latter choice, and politely nudged his shoulder. "Sir? Sir, please wake up," she... not quite shouted, but not quite whispered as well. It was something in between of them drenched with hidden annoyance.

The obese man's mouth flopped open, mumbling something out about some shit, before he batted the brunette's hand away.

The woman's eye twitched as she forced a sigh and a smile, before nudging the sad excuse of human with much more force. "Sir, please wake up."

The fat man's eyes twitched, before he grumbled and swatted the stewardess' hand away from him.

Her hands clenched to a fists, and I came to a conclusion that she was probably new when she was about to shout to the fat man. I raised a hand at her, and she blinked, looking at me with bewilderment, before she blushed in realization as I shook my head.

I gave her an understanding smile as my raised palm slapped the fat man's left cheek like an abusive husband would to his stupid submissive mistake of a wife.

Few things happened at the same time.

The stewardess jumped, hand covering her mouth as she stared at me in shock. The young couple on the back choked in shock and the male counterpart of the couple snorted to hide his laughter. The fat bastard though, he jumped, his dirty mouth worked like a motor as it spouted plenty of expletives that even the Comedian himself would look at him funny.

"Who the fuck did that?!" The fat bastard screamed in rage, his hand resting on his reddened cheek, head swiveling in accusatory stare.

I slapped him again for that, this time harder. Too hard, I thought, as he immediately snapped back to unconsciousness. I blinked, staring at my hand in surprise, before back at the stewardess who had elicited a squeak as she stared at me in horror.

Then I realized that the plane seemed awfully quiet for some reason.

"Is-is he dead?" the man behind me asked in horror.

Most of the awaken passengers around us looked at me with a fearful look.

I shook my head in response, waving my hand in a friendly dismissive manner. "Nah, he's just out cold"—unfortunately— "And for better or worse, I think he's not snoring anymore."

The awoken passengers in the vicinity let out a collective sigh of relief, before they went back to rest, grateful now that the fat loud bastard had stopped being a fat loud bastard. The stewardess sighed, her hand over where her heart would be, as she let out a disturbed chuckle. She gave me a nod, in which I replied back, and went back to the back.

I turned to the window, staring the black, clouded night sky without purpose, before I closed the window. Returning my head to the chair, I closed my eyes, and thought of about the gambit I was going to take in about several hours or so.

()_()_()

It was about ten hours later that we reached into the air of London, and it had taken precisely thirty minutes that we landed on the ground of the International airport of London. Like always, the intercom crackled, saying its fanfare and thanks, before we were allowed to exit the plane.

The obese lard beside me blinked sleepily, and yawned as he looked around in confusion, blinking as he realized where he was. "That was quick," he commented, blinking once more in dull surprise and befuddlement as he cleaned the drool on the corner of his mouth. "And painful." He added as his hand touched his bruised cheek.

I stood up from my seat, giving him a nod of agreement. "Indeed," I said, giving him a half-sneer half-smile as I tried to cross my way to the mid-walk of the plane. "Excuse me."

I took great pleasure from his shout of pain when my leg 'accidentally' stepped onto his feet. I gave him an apologetic look, before I 'accidentally' stepped on his other feet, before I was finally standing on the mid walk. Not giving him a look, I followed the line, and exited the plane.

Thankfully, it wasn't too crowded, and I easily reached to that place where people would gather, lifting up large papers with names on them. You know, where usually a distant uncle of yours that you knew about just yesterday stood there boringly, lifting up a sign with your name on it?

That kind of place.

Except, instead of a certain distant uncle, waiting for me like a bored little shit, it was a certain red coated, and red fedora wearing Eldritch Abomination in a human skin. I blinked, and his grin stretched into that famous shark-like grin. Numbly, I looked up to the sign he was holding.

'Hello Private Jaime Copperfield.'

I blinked once more, rubbing my eyes in hope I was only seeing things, and that I was having blood dehydration. No such luck, however, as he was still there.

I gulped, and he raised his white-gloved hand, and made a 'here, here' gesture. "I've been waiting for you." He mouthed.

I stood, frozen in fear as the small crowd passed around me. I felt my pair of lungs constricting in pain, before I snapped back to reality. I gave him a shaky smile, before I turned around, and—

A hand clamped on my shoulder. "It appears that my Master wants to talk with you, Private, or should I say, my Blood bearer?"

I gulped.

Oh hell's bells.