I do not own Hellsing, nor gain profit.

Anything bold are thoughts, italic will be speech, and etc.

Isyllt shoots up from her bunk with sweat encasing her body. She breathes heavily as her cold body shivers.

"Colonel? Are you alright?"

Isyllt looks up and sees her bunk mate, Dr. Lucy Westenra.

"Yeah, I'm fine Lucy. It's just another nightmare."

Lucy looks at Isyllt with concern and slowly raises her left eyebrow as she tilts her head slightly.

"Just another nightmare, huh. I highly doubt that madam and you seem to keep getting these nightmares as you call them. Frankly, I'm getting worried. I think I need to do a standard checkup and maybe an MRI."

Isyllt scowls at the thought of having to go through another set of "checkups", after all she was fine. So what if she frequently had the boogieman creep into her thoughts at night. Sure she looses a few much needed hours of sleep, but hey, she's been able to deal with this crap since she was little.

They're just nightmares. Geez, I don't understand as to why I, of all the people, need incessant amounts of those annoying "checkups". Lucy needs to chill.

"Lucy, really, I'm fine. I've had these night terrors since I was five years old. I'll admit not always the same kind, but they all seem to be similar enough to me. So why don't we relax on the checkups and just let it go. Besides, I'm too tired to go and have a checkup right now. I still have a mission I have to go to at 0500 hours."

Lucy frowns and sighs as she shakes her head, "Fine, have it your way...Colonel. Good night."

"Night, Doctor."

Lucy shakes her head once more and lays back down on her bunk. Her eye lids closing before her head hits the pillow. Since Isyllt kept having these terrors of the night attacking her mind, she hadn't been able to really get any sleep. It seems to be happening almost every night since she was placed in this room.

Isyllt, I hope you stop getting these things...cus I'm seriously thinking of switching rooms with someone else. I'm a doctor and can't be sleep deprived especially since I am the only one on duty right now for surgery purposes.

With that thought, Lucy was out like a light bulb.

Isyllt laid back down on her back on to the bunk, she slowly places her arms behind her head. She knew that eventually Lucy was probably going to transfer to another room. After all, it wasn't good for a doctor to be sleep-deprived, especially ones working for the military. Sighing, Isyllt stares at the back board of the bunk above her.

What the hell was that one about. Why is it that every time I dream it always has that stupid helmet with that stupid symbol on it? What are those guys? I mean I can tell that they're or it or him or whatever the fuck that was, was literally slaughtering a family or something. Was I a child this time? God, this doesn't make any sense. Lucy can't find anything wrong with me, but apparently there must be, seeing as I'm slowly driving her insane with my screaming in the night.

Isyllt sighs and looks at her watch, "Great, 0405, might as well get up."

Sighing again, Isyllt gets up and tries as quietly as possible to make her bed. She then walks over to her trunk and grabs her uniform, heading towards the showers afterwords. Promptly, turning on the shower head, Isyllt was assaulted by ice cold water.

"FUCK!"

Isyllt jumps out and instantaneously goes towards the door to check on Lucy. Seeing as Lucy was still sleeping, she then moves back to the shower, waiting for the hot water to start up.

Got to love the military's cheap way of lowering the water bill costs. Cold fucking water defiantly makes you not want to shower often. Geez-lu-wez , you'd think they'd want clean soldiers, but apparently they want to offend the noses off of their enemies instead.

Hot water slowly blends in with the cold as Isyllt lathers herself up with soap. Since she had gotten into the military, she found she liked the environment. There was order, grumpy old men, crappy food, and lots of things to kill and blow up. What wasn't there to like? Isyllt quickly washes out the soap and shampoo off of her and puts in the conditioner while brushing her teeth.

Really wish they would change the cook. I don't understand how they can let Sergeant Bradley keep being on the list of who gets to cook this week. Yuck, just thinking about it makes my tongue curl. That man can make water burn.

She gets out, drying off effortlessly, and puts her uniform on while putting her hair up as well. Making sure in the mirror that everything was straight, she then walks out towards the mess hall.

0440 hours

Isyllt walks down the line-up of her team, that she was going to command, while checking on their gear she notices that they were all using P90's, P99's, and some where equipped with CM901's with suppressors instead of the Famas.

Apparently, this isn't going to be the old run of the mill mission. What is General Gregor not telling me. My team and I have already been briefed, but what I don't understand is why we're helping out the Brits. What is going on that the Brits need our help?

Major General Gregor walks into the cargo bay.

"Attention!", shouts out Isyllt.

Everyone stands at the ready.

"At ease, men.", General Gregor states.

Everyone sits back down as they readjust their weapons.

"Today, you will be under a new command. The United States has decided to send the best capable units that will most likely be able to handle such a "special" situation as this. I'm not able to inform you on what type of "special" situation that might be, but that I know that you will be able to handle something like this. That is why, you, of all people were chosen. I, of course, have no say as to who would be chosen. You all were chosen by what was in your files and how well you did on the last mission."

Isyllt glances about as General Gregor pauses as he looks around at the units.

"Now, some of you will be separated and handed over to British officers, while others will be given to private sects. You will follow your commanding officer who has been assigned to you by them, but I also want you to follow the orders given to you by your squad leader. Any questions?"

…silence...

"No, sir," states Isyllt.

General Gregor nods his head, "Alright, dismissed and good luck." He salutes everyone and walks away.

Isyllt turns to her unit, "Alright, you heard the man. Complete suiting up and lock up, we're heading out in 0500." With that, Isyllt moves away and grabs her gear. She then moves over to her seat and locks in.

"Hey, Lieutenant Colonel Sânge?", asks a young man looking barely twenty.

Isyllt looks up at the young man, "Yes?".

"I'm new to this squadron, Major Lyon wanted me to transfer to your squadron and he stated that I was to report to you, Ma'am."

Isyllt nods her head, "That is correct. What's your name?"

"Ah, it's Private Harker, Ma'am, Private Jonathan Harker."

Isyllt raises an eyebrow at him, "Did your parents like sorrowful books?"

Harker puzzled by this comment, shrugs his shoulder, "I haven't a clue, Ma'am."

Isyllt shakes her head, "Very well, are you done suiting up?"

"Yes Ma'am."

"Then get in your seat and lock up."

Harker salutes Isyllt and shuffles past some men, quickly sitting down in an empty seat. Isyllt shakes her head, leans back, and closes her eyes.

This is going to be a long mission. La sigh. I just had to go and prove myself, nope, couldn't stay back and be lazy. I just had to do all those hard, specialized, classified missions. I really need to stop being so easily enticed to help eliminate enemies. I'm defiantly never going to get any peace when I get to England. I think I'm gonna get some shut eye.

The engines roar and hum as they lift off into the air. The ever repetitive hum sounding like a lullaby, quietly sneaks into Isyllt's mind, letting her unconsciousness come out to play.