Pip-centric stuff again. This is what I am doing instead of Math Homework.Oh hellz. So, got this idea from a song. It's a bit of a song fic but it's like my 'Red Flag' fic that the lyrics are spoken dialogue. The song for this one is "Funny Little Feeling" by the Rock 'n' Roll Soldiers. I also rather like the Australian OC that I just made up on the spot, so I may have him more fics. READ AND REVIEW PLEASE.
Disclaimer: Lyrics and Hellsing aren't mine.
Pip Bernadotte sat hunched over something in a bombed out shack at the tender age of twenty-one. Another mercenary entered the shack. They were in the middle of a mission. A wealthy politician was their main target and they were to take him out by any means necessary. The second mercenary- Rick, if you will- tried to look around Pip. Someone was whimpering.
" 'Ay, Mate," Rick said and pushed his hat up on his head. He adjusted his rifle. Pip turned and gave him a look of interest. He held a hammer and his teeth held onto a collection of nails. They had obviously been pulled up from the bombed out shack that Pip was occupying. "You feel okay?"
"Non. I am not. I am zinking about zat whore back in zat little country. I boned her in a phone booth."
"Heinous, mate," Rick said and Pip nailed something with his hammer. A shout echoed the shack.
"Oui. I am zo bored," the Frenchman said and sighed, looking at Rick. Rick looked around him and found the politician they were supposed to kill. He raised his eyebrow at Pip, whom was apparently nailing the man's hand to the floorboards.
"Bored then, Mate?"
"Zo bored…" he put another nail in the man's hand. "…Ztill bored. I am zo bored."
"Should I kill him?" Rick asked and gave his gun a shake. "Wait, why didn't you just kill him?"
"Ran out of bullets," Pip continued to play handyman. "I 'ave such a feeling."
"What sort of feeling?"
"A funny one. But, I zhall ignore it," Pip shrugged.
"Are you going to put him out of his misery?" Rick asked and took a seat near Pip.
"Oh, I am a zlow move, guy. No time to zimply…zwat flies," Pip smirked down at his pray. "Though, the zooner we finish here, the zooner we can be appeazing beez kneez and eazing a g-ztring, right? Zeizing, wheezing," Pip seemed to be speaking to the politician below him. He sighed and shook his head.
Rick laughed, "Ain't that the truth? Lick it dry."
"Hmm," Pip agreed and turned to Rick again. He was out of nails. "Where haz my life gone? I haven't done anything I want. I ztill 'ave so many 'musicians' to kill. I 'ave to fill zat landfill, full of bodies standing still."
Rick shrugged. "It's a job, Mate. We'll get paid good for this one. Maybe they'll throw in some extra because you tortured the poor bastard."
Pip leaned back, sitting next to Rick. He took up his pistol and removed the magazine. Rick handed him a single bullet and Pip placed it into the magazine, and then replaced that into his gun. He smiled and pointed it at the politician. The musician that was leading an orchestra of blood. He deserved this.
"I've got a funny little feeling
my arms are zhaking like a lightning rod, yeah
I'll cannonball right through the ceiling
and zink my teeth in 'till the feelings gone, yeah."
Pip smirked and pulled the trigger, the man's scull splashing up against the shack. His head fell with a thump back to the floor. Pip wiped some brain matter from his face and sighed at Rick, who in turn made a face of disgust.
"That's bloody nasty, Mate," he said and Pip frowned.