Disclaimer: I do not own in any way. shape, or form Hellsing. Hellsing belongs to Kohta Hirano and Dark Horse. As do many of the scenes and conversations depicted below. My only contribution is some of the scenes, and Seras' POV in the scenes.

AN/ wow…I updated like….super quickly…especially by my previous standards. Awesome. It's especially easy since I am for the most part following the Manga except for my…additional scenes. So…it's easy to keep it flowing. And I think putting in Seras' insight to these goings on is interesting.

This would have been posted weeks ago, but for the fact that I received ZERO reviews. None. Made me terribly unhappy and gave me no initiative. So; sorry. But, here it is. If you guys want the next chapter, please review. Even a word or two would make me very happy.

Last time: Of course her little temper-tantrum from moments before was not exactly a good thing, a small victory for him actually, but he was welcome to it for now she knew his game, and she would play to win. A dark smirk slowly formed across her face. "I know what you are playing Master." She purred darkly as she pushed the button to lower her bed. "And I will not let you win." She informed him, her voice now cold. She closed her eyes, and locked her mind as tightly as she could against him as she forced herself into a deep –hopefully dreamless- sleep. She would need all the energy she could get.

And as she fell asleep so quickly, she did not hear her Master's amused response. "You think you know what game I play? Oh Police Girl, dear girl; you have no idea…" And with a dark chuckle the red eyes in the mirror slowly faded from view.

The meeting with the Vatican -Section XIII Iscariot Agency led by an Enrico Maxwell to be precise- went better then expected. Well, that is to say that no one was killed. Not that her Master and Father Anderson didn't try; and in her opinion it was totally Enrico Maxwell's fault. He should not have called Sir Integra a 'protestant sow' of all things.

The letter Sir Integra had received while they had been with the new recruits had been written cordially enough, and on the surface seemed pretty tame; but the under-currents were not so kind. After all, the Vatican and the Protestant Church of England were not on the best of terms even though they were both sects of Christianity. Didn't make much sense to her, she'd think that they would be on the same side; at least on the Freak front. But both Churches were rather…antagonistic towards one-another. Especially the Vatican section XIII.

The letter had been very specific. He had invited Sir Integra for a visit to the Imperial War Museum in London on the 10th of September. More particularly in front of a painting by Kaster; 'Wilander, Earl of Worcester, at the battle of Mamon Plain', at 3pm. Sir Integra had shown up with Walter at the painting, her Master had been watching from the shadows and she had been at the main hall then with a group of foreign senior citizens with her mind open to her Master's. She kept part of her consciousness –about a third- on what her Master was seeing and hearing; and the rest was on the men and women that she was giving a tour to.

They were pretty energetic for old folks and they had a great time. She had briefly gone through all the exhibits real quick before hand and due to her now near perfect recall she think she did a fair job as a tour guide.

She felt Alucard's amusement when Enrico Maxwell arrived with what she assumed to be his assistant; and she heard through his ears the conversation they had. She bristled inwardly at the man's subtly condescending attitude towards Sir Integra. Actually it seriously pissed her off, but she hid it so well that none of group could see past her chipper superficial façade. This Enrico Maxwell apparently felt quite superior to Sir Integra. His words were at first nothing overtly offensive or disdainful, but once Sir Integra told him off for violation of their treaty by sending in Father Anderson -the man (regenerator) whom had tried very, very hard to kill her and her Master and who had succeeded in killing two of their colleagues; and had almost killed her as well- he had turned cold and malicious, and that was when he had called her a 'Protestant Cow'.

He had turned from unassuming to disdainful and blunt.

"I couldn't care less if two or two billion of you damned protestant swabs had died. Do you think I would bother talking to the likes of you filth if it were not his Holiness' direct order? So shut your mouth and listen well. You Protestant cow." He had said with a sneer in his voice. And that was when her Master stepped out from the shadows, understandably upset.

"Sow?!" He had exclaimed in a humorous offhand manner, as if the slight was of little offense to him –although she could feel the seething anger within him, an anger she echoed as well- before continuing. "That's what I'd expect from the infamous Section XIII. Always trying to impose their peace and laws on everyone else. Those at the top squelching any who oppose their power. Nothing ever changes. Nothing's ever changed in Rome these past 2000 years."

"The Nosferatu Alucard. Hellsing's trash man!! The killer joker!!" Was Maxwell's response, mirthful and not intimidated. "I've not seen you in the flesh. Greetings Alucard."

"Greetings, Maxwell. And farewell. You. You just called my Master a sow. Don't think that I'll let you leave this country alive. Your as good as dead, human!!" Alucard informed the man coldly, his rancor raised and his guns ready. It was not an idle threat, he fully meant to kill the man for his transgression; Seras felt his rage flowing through his veins like remnants of his long dried out blood. And she found it fascination and wonderful, the feeling of his blood-lust thrilled her. But she also knew that it would not be well to let things get out of hand, and so she began to lead her group towards the part of the gallery where they were.

Maxwell's response was not what she would call cowed, in fact he hardly seemed nervous at all, a dire mistake on her part, and sent her hackles up that he would think so little of her Master's prowess.

"Ohh, how frightening. We will never get anywhere with such a scary bodyguard waving a gun around. I say it again, we are here simply to speak with you. But if that is how you want it…we must follow suit…in order for us to retain equal footing." And then he snapped, and through her Master she felt Sir Integra and Walter's surprise. And that was when Maxwell scream for his bodyguard, the name sending shivers down her spine, chills through her body.

Anderson was the name he had called. Father Anderson. She was frightened, terrified; almost panic-stricken with the thought of facing him again. But then she felt the delight her Master felt to be facing him again, his unbridled glee he felt, and she felt so much better. Happy for her Master to be so happy.

Father Anderson came out quoting scripture in an odd almost monotonous voice, dark, bloodthirsty even. And evidently Maxwell had not expected Father Anderson to be so eager to fight, because he began to tell Anderson to stop. Yell, actually. Nervously even from what she got from her Master. But to no end, Anderson and her Master both wished for the other to die, and were both readily prepared to do so, even against their Master's wishes.

Her Master and Anderson began to laugh, both dark. But her Master's sent thrills down her spine and warmed her through; oh, how she adored this side of him though she hid it so very deep in the depths of her mind, covered up by superficial thoughts; that she was almost sure that even he was unaware….though if he cared to search her mind with any sort of effort he'd find it easily enough.

"Yes!! Let us kill Judas Priest!!" Her Master declared.

"Jus like last time, Vampire." Was Father Anderson's response.

And THAT was when she brought her group in through the doors with her persona still in place

-never having been dropped in the first place- announcing loudly (they were somewhat

hearing impaired after all…) "All right then, everybody! Here we have the painting gallery!!"

And she marched them right past and between the frozen forms of her Master and Father

Anderson. It seemed that she had arrived just in time to forestall the bloodshed, and she

hoped her Master would not hold it against her.

While she was leading the foreign folk around the room they commented curiously about the

priest with his swords and knives and at the size of her Master's custom pistols, but then went

on to the paintings with little thought about what they had just seen. And both her Master and

Father Anderson had evidently completely lost interest in any further conflict and they both

took their leave –to they mutual annoyance of Sir Integra and Maxwell- and she breathed a

sigh of relief as she finished up with her group so that she too could leave.

Seras was once again sitting alone in her room, her Harkonnen cannon propped up in the corner and the pack of chilled blood in her hands. She was staring listlessly at said pack, her thoughts miles away. Or, more truthfully, down the hall. On her Master of course. She could not help herself, it seemed futile. She sighed sadly and began to consume her dinner slowly, her mind going blank as she attempted to meditate.

She came to the decision that if she truly wanted to get over this stupid compulsion of her she only had a few choices. Confront her Master with it, let it fester until it killed her, or find someone else to bestow her affections upon. The first was not even close to being an option as far as she was concerned, and the second seemed like it would just make her miserable; and make her less then useless to the Hellsing organization…and she did not want that. So that left the last choice. Finding someone else.

But that too did not seem very feasible. Who else was there that measured up to her Master in any sort of way? He was truly one of a kind in every sense of the word, none were even worthy to lick his shoe….and that way of thinking only made her want him more and she moaned low in her throat as she lay her head down on the table, her fingers gripping her blonde hair and tugging slightly.

She wondered if it were like this for all fledglings, or if it was only her. Considering Alucard's power, it wouldn't surprise her. And of course he was enjoying her plight, she could feel his mirth at her expense…she realized that he was 'with' her in the sense of in her mind and she bristled in indignation and nervous shock. How much had he 'read' from her? She hurriedly locked her mind down as tightly as she could, her face flushed and her body trembling slightly from nerves.

And then she suddenly felt a strong pair of hands begin to slowly knead her shoulders in a manner that was certainly not platonic. Her hands tightened into claws in her hair, scraping against her scalp as she resisted the urge to respond. All of her muscles tensed up and she clenched her teeth tight. The hands began to press harder, to relax the muscles but only causing her to tighten even more. Her Master truly was out to get her. She bit back a moan when her master encountered a knot and smoothed it out. It felt wonderful. How dare he. She closed her mind from him as best she could, throwing up walls between their minds and blocking him out. She knew he could rip through the barriers easy enough if he wished to, but that would not be as fun. For that she was very grateful.

She felt an unnatural breath brush her left ear as he began to whisper to her in a purr. "Relax now, Police Girl. You know you want to."

She stiffened even further and swung her hands back over her head to knock his hands away while jumping to her feet and whirling to face him with a scowl. "You have no idea what it is that I want Master. And I am not about to tell you either." She told him in a cold voice, her eyes narrowed. He just smirked at her in a knowing fashion and bowed to her as if conceding her point as he faded back through the wall. She just stared at him, agape now. What the hell was that?!

AN/ I know this chapter was a little shorter, but I hope you liked it. Please review.