The Banana Slug: I am thinking of getting the video game, "BioShock", then go onto "BioShock 2" and end it with "BioShock Infinite". I think I was sold over by the main villain of BioShock, Andrew Ryan…or really, the bad guy before the evil guy from Brooklyn.

Now, would you kindly read this chapter?

Hellsing's League of Extraordinary Gentlemen

By The Banana Slug

CHAPTER 15: Elementary, Dear Bunter

Hellsing Organization, London

Mid-August, 2009

It was sunny as Sir Integra Fairbrook Wingate Hellsing stood in front of door to her mansion, smoking her brown cigar as she would see her menagerie of outcasts and inhumans as they stroll down the road to her mansion. Her servant sporting a large black umbrella, shifting the sun from his gaze with Seras nestled next to him like a daughter to a father.

The rest would follow, even Jason as he dragged along with them. Thankfully, she would see Mr. Griffin, wearing his clothes and showing his muscular physique that was so unlike such a stealthy character.

Integra would also see a large object draped by an enormous blue tarp being dragged by rope, with ten of Nemo's pirates dragging it with strain to the Hellsing Manor. She was incredibly uneasy with whatever the Science-Pirate had to offer her.

"Alucard, you've finally arrived," she would say to her vampire servant when he approached her, "anything to report?"

He bows to his master, saying humbly to one that was not as powerful as him, "Sir Integra, we regret to inform you that the Cavorite Notes we received in Dimmsdale were…destroyed, all to keep them from the Detective's grasp. However, we were able to thin his numbers greatly, thanks to Quatermain and Nemo."

"Hm, very good work," Integra would say to her vampire, "Bond isn't pleased, but I am. You did your part in England's safety, and I commend you for that. All of you."

She turns to her side, saying as the pirates drag the gigantic parcel up to the door, "Come inside, so that you may tell our unwanted house-guest more about what you learned."

With the doors opening, the League enters the mansion with the pirates dragging the tarped monstrosity into the main hall with Sir Integra looking with annoyance and suspicion. "Nemo, tell me, what are your men putting in my home?"

"Not I, British-woman," replied Nemo with a look of indifference, "Quatermain said you might like it."

"And what would that be?" she asks said hunter, looking over as the men began keeping the enigmatic present up with loud jacks holding it up, the men shouting at each other loudly in their native languages.

"Oh, hmhmhm, just a little thing I bagged in Isla Sorna," chortled Quatermain with pride, just as the men would remove the jacks and start to pull the tarp down in a mad rush.

Integra was surprised to see a large stuffed beast in front of her, a terrifying sight to anyone that enters her home with his maw wide open and his aggression a greeting to her guests. This was quite the interesting gift, for now, she had a Tyrannosaurus in her main hall.

"And you…bagged this?" she asks Quatermain, "This is…an actual Tyrannosaur?"

"Oh yes, wasn't too hard, didn't see why people feared it so much," chuckled Leonard, then stating with a frown and a playful tone, "but…if you don't want it, the British Museum would love to have it."

"Don't be so presumptuous, Quatermain," she says, her gaze fixated at the Rex with her eye scanning the dinosaur, "even though I never asked for it…I very much like it. I dare say this is one bloody good present, perhaps the best I ever had."

"Shall we meet you at the table, master?" asks Alucard, looking down at Integra with a smile, his master not facing him and still staring at her new addition to her home.

"Oh yes," she responded, unable to keep her gaze away from the trophy, "the Convention have already arrived, along with Bond, I will meet you there in a moment."

With that, her League would start down the main hall, with Alucard saying to Quatermain in jovial assurance, "I told you she'd like it."

As they left her, Integra would smirk calmly at her new gift, for this was the nicest surprise she had ever been given.

In the Meeting Room, where the long table would be where the Knights of the Round Table sit around for their host, with Bond sitting with them with a bored impatience. James would look to the door as soon as it made that creaking noise.

He'd watch the League walk in, all of them, even Jason as the Twelve would look at most with distrust and defense, mostly at the juggernaut still holding his machete like a riding crop.

"Ah, it is the League," sighed the Double-O with a false smile, "so glad to see you once again. Now tell me, which one was the one who burnt the Notes?"

Seras would gulp, worried about the possible law she broke, but Alucard would speak out and growl calmly, "That is not important, the New Millennium does not have the Notes…that, Bond, is more important."

"On the contrary, it is incredibly important," argued Bond, "we need those Notes to combat any other-"

"Bond! Be quiet!" snapped Sir Islands, "They are risking life and country here, I think space-rocks are not important here."

James sighs and says, "I'm only thinking of the betterment of the Empire, Sir Islands, I didn't mean to…offend."

The doors open, with Sir Integra walking in and down the room to her seat with her vampiric servant, as well as his, follow her through the room. "I see you started the interrogation, Bond. I was sure to see your superior, Miss Emma Peel, here to discuss this personally."

The room went quiet, with the Twelve turning to Bond as his brow twitched with annoyance, replying, "…I don't see why she should be here, Sir Integra, she has no authority here, I do." With a nervous roll of the shoulders, "And I will ask that you keep your queries of who my superior's identity may or may not be from now on. It's a matter of-"

"National security, I'm sure," finished Integra, sitting down on her chair with Alucard and Seras standing beside her. Sir Integra takes a nice long puff of her cigar, saying to her Convention, "…Now, I think we can now discuss the more important issues, mainly of the secrets the New Millennium has tried to hide from us."

"In Noble's Isle, we found out the identity of the new leader, he calls himself The Detective," sighs out Alucard, raising everyone's attention as they stare at him with shock and worry. James, however, sported a nervous glare with his brow sweating heavily.

"You know of him?" asks Sir Integra, tilting her head with a cigar in her lips.

"…Yes…a part of a darker chapter of England, I'm afraid," explained one of the members, a portly black-haired Knight with large glasses over his eyes, "he was once the head of the Thought Police during the era of Ingsoc…when England was once called Airstrip One. He disappeared when the ignorance fell, we assumed he was destroyed along with Big Brother."

He sighs, taking his glasses off and cleaning them, continuing gravely, "From what I heard, we was a cyborg like the Major of the old Millennium, but more…sophisticated and well-built, a phantom of the human he may have been."

"And how do you know of this?" asks Sir Integra.

The man chuckles weakly, telling Integra with morose, "My father, Gerald O'Brien, worked with him during the days of Big Brother. I never met the monster, but I have heard stories about him, doing worse things than my father did to preserve ignorance and slavery." The Knight looks away, putting his glasses back on and finishing with, "…If it is him that we are facing, then we are definitely going into fight with a monster just as cruel and vile as the late Major."

"Thank you, Sir O'Brien," she replied, pressing the butt of her cigar onto the ashtray and saying, "we now know that we are facing a relic of England's ignorance and know how much a threat this…Detective, truly is."

"That was not all, my good people," stated Alucard, "for he has a bone to pick with you all. The Detective claims that you have wronged him, that you betrayed him, that you left him to die simply for doing his job."

"It is obvious, Count," responded Sir Islands gravelly, "he blames us as dissenters of the late Big Brother, and simply wants to return to that ignorance but with him on top, such is the way of tyrants."

"However, he specifically mentioned Bond's superior, M," stated Alucard, with Bond wincing in shock and surprise. Alucard turns over to Griffin and asks, "…Isn't that right, Mr. Griffin?"

"Aheheh, that be the gospel truth, Al," hissed Mr. Griffin, leaning against the wall with the other Extraordinary Gentlemen standing there patiently.

"Hm…well…that is…quite the shocker," replied Bond with a shivering hand, "I don't know what you are expecting from me, but I will ask hi…my superior about this piece of news and see what M has to offer."

"See that you do, James…James Bond," hisses Alucard, with James shrinking in defense at his tone.

"Bond here has mentioned that the Notes to the Cavorite that you acquired in America have been…destroyed?" asked one of the Knights, an old wiry bald man with white hair and a weak stare.

"Yes, and the ones from Liberty City," explains Alucard, "taken…stolen from him."

"Bond has also been informing us about a third-party," replied Sir O'Brien, "it is obvious we are not…alone in this fight, but I doubt this third group is an ally."

"Any ideas, Bond?" questions Integra with a condescending smile.

His response was a confused, "Hm?" He remembers the question, answering, "Not yet, but I have fellow Double-O-Sevens looking for clues to where the third-party may be at."

"Then we shall wait until Bond may be able to point out where the Detective has lost the Notes, and what this Third Party truly is and what they want," concludes Integra, "so until then, this meeting has been adjourned."

"Hold there, Sir Integra," interjected Bond, "I still have questions about Orlando, for it is still a fugitive in-"

"I said…meeting is adjourned, Bond," she growls sternly, "you forget your place, Double-O-Seven."

James sighs, getting up from his seat and saying to Hellsing with a sneer, "…Fine…" The Double-O walks out in frustration, with him passing right by Quatermain and Conan with a huff.

The Convention would follow, save one, more calmly as they walk out past the League. Soon, it would be only Sir Integra, her vampires, and the other members of the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, along with Sir Islands with his hands clasped.

"Now then, living arrangements," started Sir Integra, saying to the Great White Hunter first, "Mr. Quatermain, your mansion has been refurnished and now livable once again. Rest assured, your trophies are fine and have been restored to their former glory."

"And Nemo, I take it you will be staying in your Nautilus until time needed?" she then asks the Science-Pirate.

"Correct, I am not welcome in proper society, especially English society," remarks Nemo with an almost invisible sneer.

"Detective Kudo, I think it would be a treat for you to stay over at Greyfriars, which will provide a cover for your reason to England," stated Sir Integra, "I'm sure you've heard of it?"

"Of course, I have heard of Greyfriars and have always thought of visiting the school," replies Conan with a nod, "thank you, Sir Integra."

"You're very welcome," she responds with a nod of her head, then finishing, "Jason and Griffin, you will be staying here with Alucard and Seras. I don't trust either of you alone."

"Aheheh, I'm hurt," snidely hissed Mr. Griffin, with Jason simply standing there like a statue.

"However, before you go, Mr. Quatermain," she had to add, looking over at him, "Sir Islands has something he wishes to give you, you and Mr. Griffin."

"Erhm, thank you, ma'am," he would reply humbly, bowing lightly to her with a hand on her chest, just as Sir Islands gets up and walks to the door.

He opens and asks, "…Shall we?"

"By all means," hisses the Invisible Man as he and Quatermain begin following him, "I feel like it's me birthday, aheh!"

Her League would leave, one by one as Sir Integra was left alone with her vampires. Lighting her cigar, "Bond is keeping things from me, I think he knows who this Detective is…or was. All I hope is that Conan may find out more about him in Greyfriars."

"How so?" asks Seras, looking over at her with a raised brow. However, she notices something on her left breast, in her coat pocket. She would see small gold medal inside of it, along with the top part of the red V symbol she found in Noble's Isle's pictures, but Seras left this simply as a coincidence.

"Greyfriars has secretly picked out all the top British spies, ever since the days of Gloriana the First when she first started the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen."

"You hope the Boy Detective will shed more light on Millennium's Detective, seeing how he used to work for the British Government?" questioned Alucard.

"Exactly," she said with a nod, "and not just the Detective, but M, and Bond, and everything else that slimy little weasel is keeping from me."

"That misogynist dinosaur doesn't seem to realize who he's fucking with," she continues with a growl, pulling out another cigar, slicing the top and continuing her orders, "I am not going to let MI6 push me around and expect me to work under them and not give me any information? They are sounding more like Big Brother than this Detective fool."

Lighting it with a silver lighter, she finishes with that cigar in her mouth, "But for now, we'll play along, but I swear…I will get answers from him one way or the other."

Sir Islands stands at the Main Hall, with the dreadful captain passing by as he faced both Quatermain and the Invisible Man. Conan was standing beside Sir Islands, who was to be his chaperone to Greyfriars Academy, with the juggernaut Jason staring at them all as he stood near a dresser with a tall mirror above it.

Islands held in his hand a long briefcase, holding it up and slowly opening it to the both of them. Quatermain looked inside to see to his surprise a long black rifle and a long retractable knife beside it.

The rifle was a slender beauty of weaponry, with a long barrel and a scope at the top. The rifle had a retractable stand at the bottom, for resting it during a long-range shot. It also had a keychain at the end of the handle, a baseball trinket dangling from the chain.

The knife was a silver-bladed thing, with black steel in the middle of said blade. It had a red handle, and written on one of the sides was, "Run and Hyde."

"These two weapons are for the both of you, the rifle for Mr. Quatermain, and the knife for Mr. Griffin," explains Sir Islands, turning his attention to Quatermain and stating to the hunter, "This weapon is named "The Baby Ruth", guaranteed to hit its mark without fail."

"Oh really?" scoffs Quatermain, grabbing the rifle and inspecting it with one eye with Griffin simply standing there without a word.

"Correct, sir," responds Sir Islands, "The Baby Ruth is a long range rifle that switches between long range and short range easily. It can carry up to twenty-five shots, using silver-incased shots that are powerful enough to shoot through an elephant and keep you standing from the recoil and still as silent as a church mouse. To top that off, you have a scope that can help you see almost two to five miles long, with five being the maximum range of The Baby Ruth."

"Good, I was always getting tired of being thrown to the ground because of that elephant gun all the bloody time," he says gruffly, looking down at this beauty with a smile of anticipation, hardly waiting to use this gun someday.

"Looks like I got tha short end of tha stick," sighs Mr. Griffin, "I mean, where the 'ell am I gonna keep this knife? Floating around in me arse and givin' me away all the feckin' time?" Griffin grabs it from the briefcase and holds it with his ungloved hand, and Sir Islands smiles when Mr. Griffin grunts in surprise when the knife turns invisible in his hand.

"That, dear psychopath, is called The Hyder," he says to the Invisible Man, "it was developed by a Miss Mode in America. It is able to turn invisible when in contact with you, and is silver-lined, as to be expected."

"Aheheh, thanks, boyo," The Invisible Man chuckles in response, putting the knife into his front pocket, with it returning to its visible state, "I could do some damage with this little bitch. Kinda irresponsible givin' me this mass murderer, eh?"

"Don't make me regret it, please," growled Sir Islands with distaste, being within reaching distance of this monster was enough to sicken him.

Jason, however, looked at both Quatermain's and Griffin's weapons with jealousy, even if one couldn't see it on his face. He slides his machete out, gazing at his weapon curiously as Sir Islands looks nervously at him, with Quatermain, Conan, and the Invisible Man sharing that feeling.

"Anyway, I will be leaving to escort young Detective Kudo to Greyfriars for his alibi if anyone he knows from Japan should be asking," Sir Islands says to them in a rushing manner, "Mr. Bond has agreed to follow Quatermain home, is that correct, Mr. Bond?"

"Oh yes," calmly said the agent, who was walking from the side of the Rex Trophy, pressing his hand on the hunter's shoulder, much to the agitation of said hunter. James says coolly, "I have some questions I wish to ask him about Noble's Isle."

"Hmph, if you must pry," growls Quatermain like the old dog he was.

Suddenly, they all hear a loud crashing, whipping their heads to the source and seeing Jason jamming his fist into the mirror, grabbing one of the shards and holding it with his fingers cut and bleeding.

They all watch as he begins etching the letters, "PAM" on the side of the machete, essentially giving his own weapon a name.

"Break anything else, and I'll put you in a dungeon," called out a voice, Jason looking over to see Sir Integra, standing at the main hall giving him quite the death glare before walking off. Jason stares at her with contempt, breaking the glass in his hand.

Quatermain Hall, Basildon

It was still noon when Quatermain walked into his old home, Leonard looking in awe to see his home so refurbished, like how he left it so many years ago. It was almost scary to the old hunter, entering his echoing home with his brow furrowed.

The walls were adorned with the heads of wolves, stuck in a snarling repose as he approached the large portrait of his ancestor holding a large rusty elephant gun and standing in the savannahs of Africa, the portrait of the Great White Hunter himself, Allan Bloody Quatermain.

"Ah, must be so great to be in your old home, yes?" laughed Bond calmly, walking up to him and remarking darkly, "Personally, I could care less for all the dead animals, so bloody spooky."

"If you don't like it, get out," growled Quatermain as he walked through his house to the parlor, with James following him with his knuckles popping in response.

"I'm afraid not, I still have questions to ask," said Bond, "and I am not leaving until you tell me. You may have a bit of distaste for me, but I am afraid that this is a matter of national security, so you can understand if I am a bit inquisitive about this."

"Yes, yes, I'm sure," grunts Quatermain, opening the doors to the large extravagant parlor, revealing more animal trophies from around the world to his unwanted guest.

They included five wolves, three bears, one tiger, two lions, a rhino, two elephants arranged next to the fireplace, a deer, and a large beaked monstrosity over the fireplace that seemed to have one large black beak, two smaller ones at the bottom that seemed to have split apart and the mouth were orangish-red with black spikes covering the meat.

Quatermain sat over at one of the lounge chairs made of bear skin, with an end table adorned with a stuffed goblin-like thing with large bat-ears, dark-green scales, and a wicked grin as it was made to squat and wrap his hands on the lamp as if to keep it standing.

James Bond would sit on the other, looking at his own goblinoid with disgust as his feet lay on the rug made of a snarling white tiger. "Ghastly, do you just love surrounding yourself in dead beasts?" grunts Bond.

"Why can't an old man be happy about his kills, Bond?" scoffs Leonard Quatermain, "Then again, I am sure you're proud of your many kills yourself, hm?"

"Mostly before I became a Bond, really," sighs James, tapping his finger on his knee and saying, "but I am here to discuss what happened at Noble's Isle, would you kindly?"

"Not sure what you are expecting," starts Quatermain, reaching for one of the drawers of the end tables and grabbing a cigar, "but the Detective fellow Alucard speaks of has vampires on his side like the old Millennium, fought one nasty piece of work myself that I saved Alucard from…allegedly."

"There was a settlement of animal-people there, apparently the Doctor Moreau that supposedly died in the island had a grand-daughter, who continued his work and created another society…and from what I heard, a better one."

Quatermain, lighting his cigar, stops for a moment to take a good huff before continuing, "I found Seras in a laboratory a mile away from the settlement. She was being looked at by a person named Doctor Hank Caligari, and some strange leather-clad man which I-"

"Stop," interrupted Bond, holding his hand out and asking, "…Did you say…Caligari?"

Greyfriars Academy, Kent

"I was quite flabbergasted to hear that the famed Detective Jimmy Kudo would be visiting my good school. By jove, I was quite more flabbergasted when I saw said Japanese Detective in the form of a child."

As Conan and the headmaster would walk down the empty halls of Greyfriars School with the tall windows giving an orange light into the hallway, the teacher would look down at Conan and ask, "I'm s-sincerely sorry, but am I getting your name wrong? I've heard it both Shinichi or Jimmy."

"That's fine, Headmaster Bunter, Jimmy is acceptable," replied Conan.

Headmaster William "Billy" Bunter was a short round fellow, who looked much like an owl in his long black overcoat, his green vest over his yellow shirt and red bowtie, and his plaid yellow pants ending with his black spats and held up by a long black belt. Bunter was very old and ancient, with his balding grey hair down to his ears and ending at his neck, with gigantic jowls and a neck just as rotund as he was. The headmaster would readjust his large round glasses and continued with his walk with the young detective.

"Oh, bully," chuckled the fat elder, "and do not worry Jimmy, erh, I mean Conan, you will enjoy Greyfriars, it has always been a merry place to learn, even during the days when it was a public school."

"That was nearly a hundred years ago, wasn't it, headmaster?" questioned Conan curiously.

"Oh yes! Hoho! Yes it was!" he chuckles back, flapping his hand happily. Bunter leads Conan to the garden, with an assortment of beautiful flowers danced in the light of the setting sun. "Now, knowing your dear new leader, she sent you to dig some questions from this old owl," snorted Bunter, nudging Conan playfully, "Hohoho, I remember Integra before she was a sir, always the tenacious little girl. I was honored to be her headmaster."

"Any information about the Detective could be quite beneficial to us," stated Conan as the two would sit on a stone bench, "and perhaps some about our James Bond and his superior M? I heard it was Emma Peel."

"Oh don't be silly, Detective Kudo," scoffs Bunter, grabbing into his pocket and pulling out a bar of granola, "although I cannot tell you the identity of our latest M, I can tell you that it is not Emma Peel."

"Forgive me if I don't believe you, sir," says Conan, "Sir Integra often mentions her as a possible suspect for M."

"I wouldn't be surprised, dear boy," he chuckles, taking a bit of the bar with a loud chomp, "Integra idolized good Emilia during her days here, I wouldn't be so bold to call her a heroine of hers, but one wouldn't be labeled a fool if they said so."

"Miss Peel was a personal tutor of hers, she helped her with her studies when Integra was not doing well with her schoolwork, I believe it was after her father's death." continued Billy Bunter, taking another bite of his granola, "Personally, I'm sure Emma was…sorry for the girl, she lost her own father to treachery. A theory about her generosity for Hellsing at the time."

He stops and thinks to himself, saying out loud for Conan, "I just wonder where that wonderful woman could have run off to."

"Well…if you can't tell me anything about M…" sighed Conan with a bit of drained hope.

"I'm s-sincerely sorry," interrupts Bunter, stuffing the foil wrapper back into his pocket.

"…perhaps you can tell me about our current Bond? He's not quite…trustworthy?" explains Conan to his new headmaster.

"Hrm, I understand, dear boy," sighs Bunter with a shake of his head, grabbing another bar of granola and unwrapping it quickly, "I am afraid you were given the runt of the litter, being the other Bonds off on espionage and the what."

"How so?" asks Conan.

"Oh, he was sent here to Greyfriars as a young adult after a stint in prison and a crippling parole," teaches Headmaster Bunter, "quite the troubling and violent youth he was, even before he went to this school. The boy also the subject of a very scrutinizing controversy involving mind control and painful reconditioning, things our good Detective would have a jolly good time being a part of. Yarooh, eh?"

"Eh, I believe so," he replies, "I also have quite the questions about the Detective, it is something that could very well save England from him. Anything can be very helpful."

"I will give you as much as possible," says Bunter, staring down at Conan with a smile, getting up from the bench with Kudo following him through the garden.

"I have met the Detective many times during the years of Sir Harold Wharton when he ruled Britain with that ghastly nickname," states Bunter, "for that phantom was a family friend to him and my sister, Harry's wife, God rest her soul. He had the air of a Victorian gentleman and spoke with such elegance and strength, by jove, for a jingoist cyborg I was intrigued by his attitude and manners."

"Any idea what his identity could possibly be?" Conan asks him.

"Hmmmm, I am afraid not, detective," groans Bunter sadly.

"Anything you can tell me about the Detective? Preferences? Interests? Anything important?" Conan would interrogate calmly and thoughtfully.

Bunter thinks to himself as the two enter the halls once more, "I do remember him constantly praise the old detective Sherlock Holmes, almost wistfully and dare-I-say nostalgic."

"You…you don't say," lets out Conan as he rolls his shoulders nervously, "is that all?"

"Well, I do know one thing, I do remember one night when Greyfriars was shut down during the Ingsoc years," explains Headmaster Billy Bunter, "he gave his condolences for the shutting down of the establishment, calling it the best years of his life."

"It's…funny you mention his praise for Sherlock, sir," says Conan with him listening to the footsteps echoing in the halls, "when I met the Detective on Noble's Isles, he seemed to have contempt for me, offended with my attempts to emulate Holmes."

"Quite queer, quite queer," sighed Bunter, wiping his brow again before going to his jowls as his beads got more frequent.

"Perhaps he was a good friend of Sherlock, thinking my detective skills and my position in the league is an insult to his name," says Conan with a roll of his eyes, taking notice of Bunter's sweat-storm, "what exactly did he say about Sherlock Holmes, sir?"

"Oh, his personal library was filled with Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's biographies of the famed Sherlock Holmes, and would often recommend me books." replies a nervous Bunter, "He'd also quote Sherlock many times, so either he was a dear companion or a fanatic of his."

"Headmaster Bunter?" asks Conan with a tilt of his head, both stopping in the middle of the hall, "Do you know where the Detective's library was at?"

"Sadly, in the Vauxhall when it was old Wharton's Miniluv, most likely cleaned out," explains Bunter sadly, then stammering and saying with hope, "but, but, but, however! He did have a study in Greyfriars that hasn't been touched for at least ten years." He grunts and shakes his head, "But MI6 cleaned his office twenty years ago, all that is left are idle notes and his vast collection of Sherlock Holmes' biographies."

"Anything can be of help to this assignment, sir," Kudo would quickly say, "I need access into the study, it may be our only hope of finding out the Detective's identity and where he is hold up at!"

"Oh…uh…well…I don't…" stutters Bunter, stroking his chin with fear before taking a deep breath, looking down at Kudo with a determined glare and hoots, "Yes! You may be right! Follow me!"

As the two quickly walk through the halls towards the stairs, Bunter grunts out, "It is on the third floor, in the older wing. It is locked shut, but I have a key to his study with me at all times."

As Conan follows with a successful grin, Bunter would sport a grimace of regret and terror, not sure of the consequences for showing him the study and what he may find would entail for him, from either his own government or the Detective himself.

Hellsing Organization, London

"Pheh! Yeh call this a livin' quarters?"

A small little room was there for the Invisible Man, which looked as if it belonged to a cheap motel with a spring bead, a dresser holding the black cable television and a miniscule fridge, and a small round table with two small chairs at the sides of it finishing up the quarters. There were two doors with one a closet about a foot in diameter, and a bathroom with a simple bathtub with dreary green curtains, a small toilet, and an old fountain with a crusty mirror above it.

Alucard and the floating brown overcoat stood in the middle of the room, with the coat turning to the vampire and raising his arms up and flopping them back down in disappointment.

"It has a bed, a television, and a bathroom," states Alucard calmly, "isn't that all you need?"

"It looks like shite, vampire, complete and utter shite," growls Mr. Griffin, "I wouldn't fuck a dog in this rat-hole."

"Integra's orders, Mr. Griffin," hisses Alucard with a smile, "you are allowed to walk around the halls freely, just don't do anything to harm Sir Integra or anyone else in these halls…or you will never be found again."

"Aheheh, yeh think so harsh about me, count," chuckles Griffin darkly, "I may have thoughts about yer boss and little slave, I'd be an idiot to act on them and piss yeh off."

"Speakin' of idiots," groans Griffin, taking his coat off and dropping it on the messy bed, "is the hulk allowed to roam around as well?"

"Why not? Jason is a guest, like yourself," sighs Alucard with a smile, entering the room and looking out the window with its blinds hiding the dying sunlight.

"He's a dumb animal, that's why," grunts the Invisible Man as his invisible hand grips a small black remote, turning the television on and continuing with his berating, "the spastic will most likely kill us in our sleep by tomorrow. All I'm sayin' is that I'll be sleepin' with one eye open, and I suggest yer boss do the same."

"He is not as dumb as you and the rest of the League believe him to be, Mr. Griffin," replies Alucard, looking back at Griffin with dark red eyes, "if Jason was the dumb animal that is believed of him, then he would have kept trying to kill us any chance he got. However, Jason has been nothing but obedient, he knows if he is ever going home, then he has to play by the rules, and if he doesn't…I will be there to make sure he does. Despite appearances, he is quite the intelligent little survivalist."

"Could'a fooled me," scoffs Griffin, flipping through channels during Alucard's speech, "just keep a close eye on the dog, even a trained one can bite."

"Just because I understand his wit doesn't mean I have not, Griffin," replies Alucard, walking past Griffin and his remote floating in the air, "Jason still needs reminding who the alpha is in this little pack of wolves."

It was twilight by now, with Seras walking down the halls of her home with the fledgling deep in thought. Something bugged her about Sir Integra, about that V in her pocket, the symbol of oppression and simple-mindedness in her person.

Seras would scratch her head, shaking her head and making a thousand different explanations for that V, but most of them all were quite dubious and random. She didn't want to believe it, she didn't even want to believe that she would think to that conclusion.

How could she even think that about Sir Integra? That was a criticizing question she'd ask herself, a question that is disrespectful to her master and his master all at the same time.

Seras crosses her arms and walks through the halls, she wanted to see Integra and confirm or disprove her paranoid theories that plague her mind so. The fledgling would get closer to the door, finding it half open and allowing Seras to peek into the room and see Integra stand before a mahogany dresser.

Integra was holding a picture frame, standing there with a calm faint smile on her lips as she scans it so nostalgically. Seras Victoria would slowly approach her, trying to get a look at her photograph, only for Sir Integra to place her photograph back into the dresser, closing it and turning to the slightly disheartened Seras Victoria.

"Hello, Seras, how can I help you?" Sir Integra asks of her.

"Oh, just…wanderin' around sir, waitin' on the Bond fellow to find out where the rendezvous point might actually be on," replies Seras with a soft smile, then asking her, "What…sir…what do you think of this whole Ingsoc business? And the Detective?"

"Not sure, Ingsoc has been dead for at least fifty years, and this Detective is here to bring back dead governments and harsh ideals to England," would be Integra's answer, "frankly, I am not sure we can oppose him…and assimilation may be the only retaliation."

"Sir?" breaths out a defensive Seras, stepping back.

Integra looks at her with a calm yet confused stare, "…Yes?"

"I thought you said…" blurts out Seras, scratching her head and saying, "Well…I don't know, you said something quite…silly."

"Silly?" scoffs Integra lightly, placing her glasses back on and saying, "By heaven, Seras, you are quite the silly girl."

Integra walks over to Seras, who looks at her master's master with a nervous blush and a bite of her lower lip. Sir Integra looks down and says to her kindly, "If you need anything else, I'll be at my office. I'm always available for you, my dear. Goodnight."

As she walks past her, Seras watches her leave and says, "Ehhh, goodnight, sir. And…eh, thank you."

Seras watches as Integra walks out of the room, waiting until her footsteps would cease to be heard from the halls. She then turns her attention to the dresser, walking quietly and pressing her hands on the knobs of dresser. Seras slowly opens it up, her eyes getting wider the more she saw what the frame held.

It was a black void, which sported the symbol of fascism that defines the New Millennium. The red V, with a black hand and a white one would shake each other in false brotherhood, and the letters spelling "INGSOC" underneath the hands.

Seras slams the drawer shut, falling to her knees and staring at the wood in terror. "No…it…can't be true…it's not…" she breaths out in horror, her head shaking in this act of betrayal, "…not her…not again…"

Seras gets up, slipping her fingers into her golden hair and backs away from the drawer. The frightened fledgling falls on the bed, sitting there as she lays her hands on her lap, staring at the floor trying to comprehend this new information.

"…There…has to be some explanation. It can't be true."

The Detective's Study, Greyfriars

Conan would sit at the desk of his new enemy, looking through documents stacked at the right edge of the black desk. A small lamp would be his light, resting on the black chair that was so uncomfortable to sit on, resting his shoulders on a red wool cover with the symbol of the Detective's beliefs stamped on it.

The study's walls were filled with books of Arthur Conan Doyle's work of the famed detective of Britain. Mixed with them were books of socialist propaganda and books of Big Brother's reign.

Near the door sat Headmaster Bunter, eating a chocolate bar he got from the kitchen a few minutes ago as Conan was searching through document after document. The Headmaster was quite bored, reading one of the books of Sherlock Holmes the vile Detective kept.

Kudo did not get much, only letters to and from acronyms like "H.W." and "G.O'B.", with some names known in some the letters, with the only ones Kudo can find were "Robert Cherry", "Gerald O'Brien", and one that he did not recognize, a strange one, a "Montana Max."

However, they were mostly about suspects and dissidents in Airstrip One, information on Alucard and the Hellsing Organization at the time, and finally idle talk and further book recommendations from both parties.

"Huhhh, there is nothing, all these letters are quite dated and give me very little," said Conan aloud, "I already know these people, except this Montana Max. What about you, sir?"

"I'm afraid not, Jimmy Kudo," replied Bunter, wiping his dark lips of the chocolate staining them, "perhaps someone from the Old Millennium, other than that, nothing at all, dear boy."

As Conan began stacking the documents again, Bunter would look at the watch and say loudly as if to make sure Conan heard him, "Oh! Look at the time! I believe it is time for us to hit the hay, as the Americans say, eh?"

"Perhaps you're right," sighs Jimmy, packing the documents and putting them back neatly into the drawers of the desk. "I just want a few more minutes, sir, I am just want to see if there might be something I missed."

"Oh, but of course," lets out Billy Bunter, "just a few more, it is getting awfully late, my friend."

As Conan was stacking documents back into the desk drawers, he'd stop at the top right drawer, noticing a crease in the drawer floor. Conan would slowly reach down and dig his fingers into the open crease.

After a bit of a struggle, he flips the floor of the drawer up to reveal a small of very old paper documents, covered in dust and yellow with age. Bunter watches in fear as Conan pulls the documents out and swiftly lays them on the desk.

"I think I found something! More documents! Letters! They date from…1937! Before the Second World War!" acknowledged Kudo in surprise and awe, "They seem to stop at 1949, near the end of the HYDRA Rebellion in East Germany." As he checks through them, much to Bunter's worry, Kudo whispers to himself, "Huh…some of them are letters of gratitude, for finding acceptable recruits for Millennium, apparently. They include…Zorin Blitz, Rip Van Winkle, Gwynplaine, even the Valentine Brothers…along with a father, it seems. Jackson. Jackson Valentine."

Conan looks through more of the documents, explaining to his headmaster, "They all seem to have been sent by…the Montana Max figure from the Ingsoc Documents, either this is the true name of the Major or an alias, it seems. Intriguing."

"Any…anything important, though?" questioned Bunter nervously, "Identities? Clues? Anything?"

"Not yet, but it looks like that the Detective was used by the Major as a scout, a recruiter, someone who detects people that would prove to be valuable for Millennium," teaches Jimmy Kudo with a proud smile, "seems he himself was valuable to Millennium, it's no surprise he'd be able to take over after the Major's death."

The Boy Detective stops when he notices one document older than the rest, holding it close as he began reading it. The contents slowly shocked him, reading it over and over, finding it more and more disturbing from what he learns within the letter. For it was not written by the Detective at all, nor was it of anyone he contacted in the past letters.

The letter was from a Mycroft Holmes, the older brother of Sherlock Holmes, and it was addressing the M of the late 1800s, near the end of the Victorian Era. He was shocked to learn so much from it, learning the identity of the M of the time, and of the possible motives for the Detective, revealing a person that apparently has been betrayed by Britain, revealing that the M was a great and terrible figure, and that the very person who was betrayed, who was killed by M, and who may be the Detective that walks among the world as a blighted shadow, may be none other than Sherlock Holmes himself…

-To "M"

When I heard you were to become Head of Intelligence, I nearly lost my temper and threatened to resign. When I regained my composure, I retracted my desires for resignation, but my anger and hatred has not subsided.

I do not want a cad such as you as my overseer, as my master, which is why I put those parentheses around your little title. Quite enigmatic, of course you should be, surely a criminal such as yourself, Moriarty, would be devastated if the public knew that the person protecting them from harm is, not was, a criminal mastermind, a psychopath, a murderer.

No need to get paranoid, you pathetic old man, for your secret is safe with me, as I do like to live. I'm sure my brother loved to live as well, but I guess you put an end to that, eh?

Your actions branded my younger brother a victim in your little conspiracy, and now the government has allowed this to continue and revere him as some sort of martyr, when in the end, they betrayed him. I remember you joked to your confident, Campion Bond, after you escaped my brother in Victoria, that Sherlock Holmes, the Great Detective, was a traitor of the Empire.

No, my newly found rival, 'you' are the true traitor here, and now I feel that this entire government has betrayed my brother. So pray to the heavenly father that my brother is dead, James, because in the end, he will be the downfall of your 'false empire'.

I'm sure after getting this letter, you will be sending people to look into me, observe me, in hopes to quell a rebellion. Be assured that won't happen, I have already explained my reasons not to.

However, I swear that when the time comes, you will suffer for your treachery, for the life of Detective Sherlock Holmes.

Sincerely,

Mycroft Holmes

P.S. Have you read the most recent story by your good friend Sir Arthur Conan Doyle? I believe it was called, "The Final Problem". What a lovely lie, don't you think?

The Banana Slug: I got a review in LustCraft, and it was from Captain Nemo! (not sure which one, though) I never knew Captain Nemo was a fan of troll-sex and the what-not.

Bizarre. Very bizarre.

…

…

…Look! A Shoggoth!