Who Am I? Redux
Disclaimer: I didn't Create Hellsing, I don't own it.
(Note from Chris: Once again guys I'm really sorry for the delay. Had a family crisis back in the fall and have been trying to fight my way past the writer's block it brought on since. But I'm back for now and getting ready to bring this first of three re-writes to an end.)
Chapter 4: Wasting Time…
A quiet afternoon to himself was something Max hadn't been able to have in the last six months, and he had to intention of wasting the one he now had. He had a backlog of comic books he had yet to get a chance to enjoy, the greatest hits of Queen and a cold case of beer. Everything he needed for a nice, lazy afternoon without a care in the world. His lighter sparked to life, the flame raising for a second, swallowing the end of the cigarette teetering between Max's lips before he snapped the lid down, snuffing it out in an instant.
He inhaled deeply, letting the smoke drift out from between his lips. It was going to be a good afternoon.
One hand drifted lazily over to the pile of comics and took hold of the top book. The first 30 Days of Night graphic novel. He hadn't developed a taste of horror comics until he had been recruited into Zero. The entire Hellboy series had been on the recommended reading list he had been given during his first week, and wile it was a far cry from what Zero did, it had defiantly been entertaining.
Somewhere in the apartment he heard a door open followed by the sound of bare feet on the hardwood floor. He saw the tuff of blonde hair over the top of his book as Seras shuffled across the living room, vanishing into the bathroom. Several minutes ticked by before the sound of the toilet flushing and the sink running before she emerged again, shuffling back down the hallway and into her room. He smiled faintly. Seras has stumbled across the Gamecube a few days before, and been staying up past her bed time ever since playing Resident Evil 4.
He had dealt with more then a few vampires in his time with Zero, but none of them had been as cute as her, in terms of appearance and personality. Then again, he had never taken the chance to get to know any of his targets, just a few quick shots and down they went.
Gotta love .223…
The soft cloth ran smoothly over the stainless steel surface of Jack's Desert Eagle, or as Max tended to call to call it Semi Automatic Overcompensation in .50AE Magnum. The .50AE had a lot more stopping power then Max's .45, and wile the recoil would cause it to be impractical for an average solider, it felt like nothing to him.
The kid was asleep on the couch, comic books strewn across the floor and the ashtray overflowing on the coffee table. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out how he had spent the afternoon wile Jack had been running around the city trying to find someplace to drop of their guest before they left the country for good. He had hated England during World War One, hated even more in World War Two and hated more then he ever thought possible now.
Maybe it was just because the Brits always seemed so damned snooty, their noses always in the air and a stick up their collective asses about something. Or maybe he had just met the ones who had a bad attitude towards Americans. All 'cause of the revolutionary that was over two hundred fucking years in the past, but no they just couldn't forget it.
He snorted, a cloud of cigar smoke blowing out his nose as he did so.
Or maybe it was just the lousy weather.
Either way he was looking to getting the hell out of London and back home, and hopefully he'd never have to set foot in this depressing country for the rest of unnaturally long life.
"What the bloody hell…"
Sitting crossed legged on the floor in front of the TV she stared wide eyed in disbelief at the blood splattered game over screen, trying to wrap her head around what had just happened. A swarm of enemies had come at her, hurling axes and TNT. The fight had been frantic; costing her most of the ammo and health ups she had been caring. But with a single well placed shotgun blast which took the head off the final aggressor the battle came to an end.
The only problem had been that final foe kept coming forwards, seized her character by the neck and proceeded to slam him on the ground, using up the last bit of health he had. It was a death that had seemed way too far out to believe, but she had witnessed with her own eyes. And Max, if he had seen it instead of being passed out on the couch, would no doubt have fallen to the floor laughing the sight.
The controller clattered lightly to the floor and Seras fell backwards, the upside-down image of Max on the couch filling her view. He hadn't done much in the last couple hours aside from blurting out some rather strange allegations about cake before rolling over and falling back asleep.
"There's a nice meal all laid out for you there Police Girl. Maybe you should take advantage of it."
Not you again.
She thought that annoying voice was gone for, it hadn't come to taunt her for almost a week now but once again here it was.
"Yes me again. I am ALWAYS here Police Girl, even if I don't say anything I am ALWAYS with you. I made you and you are connected to me just like that TV is to the wall."
Her lips parted, a highly annoyed whisper slipping out from between them, "If you know so fucking much why not just tell me what I seem to have forgotten?"
A deep chuckle echoed through her skull, "It seems you've developed abit of a dirty mouth Police Girl, maybe your new friends starting to rub off on you. Never before have I heard you use such language."
"What's your point?" she snapped back.
"Maybe this little excursion has been good for you. You seem to have developed a back bone over. But I think you've been away from home for long enough. It's time for you to come home."
