- = spaces

fanfiction does not keep the extra spaces I add so I went back and added dashes to replace them

updated several times today for corrections

"You're gonna go check out that place, right?" A heavy arm draped across the back of a chair as Jake tilted his head back to look at the teenager that was currently tying his black laces at the couch he slept on. Vlad nodded, making a loop with nimble white fingers.

"Yeah, right now. It's a little bit more expensive than my last place-" He shrugged his shoulder and leaned his head to the side to move his hair out of his view. "-but it's a lot bigger. It's supposed to have it's own bathroom with a shower and stuff."

Jake turned back to his breakfast, taking a bite while his eyes scanned a magazine featuring new models of cars and reports on the rising or falling prices of specific car parts. One hand reached out to grab an open can of Pepsi. The giant spoke after swallowing. "It's an actual place right? It should have a bathroom. The last place you had, Jesus…that was not the usual. The shower is gonna be a good investment for you. If you're clean and presentable, someone's more likely to consider picking you for a job. But expect the water bill to go up."

"Yeah. Figured as much."

"Good." Jake took another sip of Pepsi, looking around the can to see what he was reading as Vlad passed him to go to the door. "How likely do you think it is for you to get this place? I don't mind letting you stay here for another week or so."

Vlad stopped to look back at Jake, appreciating the offer, but he was shaking his head. "No, I'm good. I think I'll get this place and then I'll be out of your hair. You need your space."

Jake said nothing, consuming his breakfast with his eyes on his magazine while Vlad shut the door behind himself and left the giant to read in silence.

*~*~::..+..::~*~*

The room was a large rectangular box with three doors. One door leading outside, one door leading into the bathroom, and one door that opened up to reveal the interior of a closet where there was evidence that the teen, if he was able to live in the tiny apartment that was more of a bedroom walled off from the rest of another apartment, would have a few eight-legged neighbors for company. It was dusty, it was grimy, there was dark stains on the carpet and there were similar stains on the walls, both of which could questionably have been blood, and from outside the sounds of the city echoed off of bricks that walled an alley.

But, in Vlad's view, the room was sparkling with corny fairy dust. So, a step above being the possible location of a past homicide, the apartment looked like the possible location where Tinkerbelle had been brutally murdered.

The bathroom…at least had running water that might be used to scrub away some of the fungi forest that was growing in the shower…the crusty, black fungi forest…burnt fungi maybe…

Back by the doorway Vlad was surveying the room for a moment. Without a doubt, he turned to the dull-eyed landlady with a sharp nod of acceptance, to which he earned a raised eyebrow and then a shrug. The landlady was a broad, rather stout woman with a floral print dress and a large bust that distracted attention from her expressionless face, but she didn't say much and that was enough to please Vlad. He could tell she didn't like him, but he wasn't sure if he would ever come to like her either. But he could see that they might be able to tolerate one another in a satisfactory way.

"Do you have a number I can call?"

"Yeah. If you have a pen I can write it down."

The woman walked off down a dark, cramped hall and around a corner, Vlad following her part of the way. She returned quickly and handed him a pen and a notepad where he scrawled Jake's number below his last name. "My friend might pick up, his name's Jake." Vlad added a skinny arrow from the phone number to Jake's name when he wrote it down. "You can leave a message with him if I'm not there and he'll pass it along to me so I can call you. Is there any special time you want me to call at….or like a-"

"If I tell you to move in, then I want you to call me back within forty-eight hours, or I'm going to give the room to somebody else. I don't have patience for waiting around. If you want the room, then you had better call me back and not make me wait. You got that?"

Seeing the face that belonged to a woman in her mid forties or early fifties, the teen blinked once before handing her the pad and pen with a few nods. Her eyes were assessing him, he saw, unable to break eye-contact as his thoughts raced to figure out what she might want him to do, how he should behave in order to gain her acceptance. He needed the room. He wanted only honesty with her. She looked into the red eyes, in no way communicating as to whether or not she had seen his thoughts, and then left him behind when she went back to the room, taking out a bronze key to lock it. Vlad said good-bye after asking if there was anything else she needed, and left shortly there after.

Out on the street again with busy traffic, yells, and honking horns adding to the fumes that polluted the air, the teen strolled down a couple of blocks, his head down with his hood up, thinking and watching his feet as he relied on peripheral vision to guide him. He ducked into a liquor store, making use of the nearest door, to ask for the time before leaving to stalk the sidewalk. He had finished sooner than he had expected to. It wasn't even 9:30 a.m. yet and the overcast sky made it seem earlier. He had ten dollars in his pocket, left over from skipping a breakfast he told Jake he would pick up on the way and from the precaution he had taken in bringing the money in case the landlady wanted a deposit on the room, if she gave it to him right off the bat.

Ten whole dollars, and nothing he needed to do.

The teen's shoes stopped on the concrete and he stood still as the flow of other pedestrians broke around him as if he were a stone in a river. Glancing to the side, from beneath the black hood two red eyes moved over the traffic, landing on a certain green car with a list of prices on the passenger door. He approached the parked car, bending low to check the back seat. When he discovered it was empty, with his hands in his pockets, Vlad moved to the driver's door and looked in.

The cab driver was sipping at a cup of McCafe coffee with a newspaper on the steering wheel. With a start, he looked at his window, freezing when Vlad's ghostly pale face greeted him, shadowed by the hood. Vlad tapped on the glass again to snap the man out of his daze so that he would lower the window.

"How far will five dollars get me?"

Suspicious and frowning, with one hand on his coffee that was currently steaming from his cup holder and having folded and placed his newspaper on the front passenger seat, the cabdriver stared at Vlad with cold eyes. "I'm on my break."

Vlad paused and then took out his money, flashing it at the man before crumpling it up in his hand, making it impossible to tell the worth of the bill. "I've got money and I'd like to go somewhere. When does your break end? I can wait."

Damn punk. Aggravation in a growling voice snapped back that his break would be over in ten minutes, and then the window rolled up, cutting off the conversation. Vlad stepped back after a moment, wandered to the front of the cab with the driver's eyes following him doggedly over the horizon of a newspaper, and then the teen sat down on the curb in front of the car's wheel to wait out the ten minutes and insure that the cab would not suddenly drive away when he wasn't looking.

Shaking out his newspaper violently to open it wider, the cab driver grumbled to himself crossly, stubbornly focusing his attention on the newsprint and the ink letters on its surface.

*~*~::..+..::~*~*

The walk to Anderson's house from where the cab dropped Vlad off after handing him a five in exchange for teen's ten, was about an hour long, on the sidewalk or on the dirt along the side of the road. But Vlad didn't mind the walk. He enjoyed the time by himself, but he still felt a slight thrill when he saw the gate that would open to the Anderson family's driveway that cut through the trees speckling their property.

Vlad approached the gate, his gaze running over a pillar of arranged stones where a button and a speaker were present.

That would blow his surprise visit. Since he had come all this way, he could at least get a good laugh out of it. If he snuck up on Anderson when the jock wasn't looking…maybe walking right into his room and waiting to see if he'd notice…. The idea spread a grin across Vlad's face, growing broader with excitement and anticipation when he followed the fence that bordered their property, aiming for the hole he could slip under. Finding it and entering through it, Vlad took his time walking towards the house, wondering which door he should try first as he brushed dirt from his clothes. His goal was to scare Anderson. All he had to do was find the Chief or Female Anderson, if the Chief wasn't home, and then they'd let him in…or he could just unlock a door or go through an open window if he could get the screen off.

Passing the pool, the teen made a bee-line for the glass door that separated him from Integra's office. That sheet of glass was all that was keeping the delinquent outside when he wanted to be inside. But Vlad wasn't familiar with these types of doors. No paper clip or wire could be used if he didn't know what to do with them in this situation, though he had one of both in his pocket, making sure to stock up when he could in the absence of having a spare key for Jake's place.

Alright, no success with the office door. Red eyes traveled over the side of the house, searching for an open window. He went closer to the glass sliding door again and pulled at it before cupping his hands around his eyes to peer into the office. It was empty, as he had assumed. All that noise with the door would have gotten the Chief's attention if she had been there. She was most likely at work.

Okay, next. What's next? No windows on this side of the house are open, now to try…the next side. Vlad proceeded to circle the house, at one point passing a partially uncovered window that showed a room the teen had never seen before. It was a bedroom, though Vlad couldn't tell the size, but he saw a bed with a red and maroon comforter on it along with an assortment of clothes. Guess the Chief didn't finish putting them away yet. Without an available entrance, Vlad continued on until, finally, he came upon an open window with a flimsy screen a wire easily coaxed from it's frame without damaging it, which was then tossed through the window towards a carpeted area. The Christmas tree was sitting in Vlad's view when he climbed through the window, taking care not to leave foot prints on the side of the house or inside when he landed on the tile floor, the same tiles that snaked back into the kitchen but cut off before the Christmas tree to begin a faint grayish-blue carpet lawn.

Success. The screen was replaced, and all was good with the world. Soon he would be up the stairs and he'd get to enjoy scaring the fat ass he had come to visit. Yup, Vlad smiled keeping his footsteps muted when he went to the door and started down the hallway, passing first the white room where the piano was kept, the dining room, the door to Grandpa Hellsing's guest room, and so on, checking his environment to make sure he didn't pass one of the Anderson siblings or the jock he was looking for (he only hoped Anderson was in his room, it was the best place to scare him) while taking a moment to feel bad for what had happened on Christmas and the fact that the old man would have left a long time ago. With a depressing sigh, Vlad lengthened his strides and added a spring to his step, shaking his head to dislodge the cold feeling in his chest.

Now I'm going to go see Anderson and it's going to be fun and when I go home, Jake's going to tell me that the landlady called and then I'll have my own place to live again and everything's gonna be good. Today- Vlad took in a deep breath, filling his lungs - is gonna be a good day.

Just at this time, Vlad went around a corner into the kitchen and walked into a stiff back, his forehead rolling forward to hit the other body. Not expecting this, Vlad stepped back, rubbing at his face with a frown while his eyes glanced over the back, noting the blonde hair and height. He opened his mouth to say 'Fat Ass', as a last effort to get a surprised response from the jock, but as the back turned around, Vlad noticed the light skin and a deeply carved scar that continued as the neck turned to face the pale boy. The body had started to the side as it turned, and a pair of green eyes were wide when they stared at Vlad while Vlad stared back at them.

There was a moment of stunned silence in which Vlad blinked and stared, lips parting as he stared and blinked, wholly bewildered by what he saw.

This wasn't Anderson. He wasn't Anderson. This man was not Anderson. And for a second, Vlad felt anger before he felt surprise again, along with a generous injection of pain, when four large knuckles were driven into his right cheek faster than his brain could follow.

Stunned, and now with his mind reeling from the blow, the teen's thought process shut down. Staggering with round, owlish eyes, Vlad stumbled backwards and tripped over himself when he dodged another punch, becoming sprawled with his back and head smacking the tiles, a dizzy spell descending upon all of the other chaos that distorted his world.

The sole of a tennis-shoe rose up, ready to crash down on the teen when Vlad mustered enough awareness in order to roll to the side and shuffle backwards awkwardly until he hit the base of a counter and slid his back up over the ascending wood drawers in order to get to his feet.

Still unable to think, only able to dodge, Vlad ducked to the right when a fist appeared before his face again and then bolted instinctively down the hall his eyes found, running into a wall and using it to propel himself in a new direction while a hand grabbed at his jacket without getting a good grip so that the teen was able to get away. Vlad ran past doors without looking back, following the tiles as if they were the yellow brick road bringing him to a magical escape route, until they brought him to the living room with the Christmas tree, but more importantly, a good view of the front door. Vlad sprinted to the door and his feet attempted to stop on the mat in front of it but his momentum pushed the mat forward, throwing the boy into the door. In too much of a hurry to step back so that he could see what his hands were doing, fingers fumbled with the door knob, turning it back and forth but having the knob stop each time, as if it couldn't turn full circle. Trying to force it to turn, Vlad kept fought with the doorknob, all the while expecting to get tackled from behind at any moment.

All movement froze when an unmistakable metal shape pressed into the black hair, causing Vlad's body to stiffen while complying with any pressure the gun supplied, moving his face against the door but leaving his paralyzed hands on the doorknob. Seconds lengthened with the quickened pace of a beating heart. Unfocused red eyes gazed at the door, blinking and not seeing it, picturing the gun that was buried in his hair. A foreign hand clasped the cold pale hands and pried them from the door, dropping one in order to grab Vlad's left arm and arrest it painfully against his back, so immobilizing, or at least taking control of the teen so that he could be guided from the door by the gun and the hand that held him. Vlad was forced onto the tiles, part of his body laying across the somewhat dirty mat used to clean shoes before they were allowed to walk through the house.

Swallowing with the cold floor taking any heat it could from his left cheek while his right cheek, which was throbbing, was turned to the air, Vlad gazed at the bottom of the door that should have been his escape, finally coming to a realization that forced Vlad to shut his eyes and bite his lips with shame for his stupidity. The door had been locked. You can't freaken open a locked door. God, am I a dumbass. Shit-

Vlad winced when a knee dug into his arm, crushing it into his back while flattening the rest of Vlad into the floor. The foreign hand released him and moved into a pocket the teen couldn't see. All the while, neither party spoke.

Without being able to see what was happening, Vlad could still hear the clicking of a phone being dialed, pulling out a groan from pale lips and closing the red eyes again when Vlad attempted to bury his face in the tiles and melt into the floor.

"Why do you got to call the police? Why do you have to get cops involved? I hate cops. I hate the friggen cops…" Vlad muttered and cursed to himself as the clicking continued, but after a while he frowned and his brow furrowed, time making his heart slow a little and his clear some murkiness from his mind. Who was this guy? I'm not doing anything wrong. And 911 is not a million numbers long. Vlad discreetly peeled his cheek from the tiles and gradually turned his head towards the man who was kneeling with one knee keeping Vlad immobile, one hand keeping the gun Vlad could still not see against his hair, while the other hand that Vlad was now focusing on was being used to slowly, with a thumb on a right hand, type away at a Blackberry.

The teen's eyes squinted with confusion, forgetting other things for a moment. "You can text the police?"

This got the blonde man's attention and he paused to stab an intimidating, icy glare into Vlad's face, obviously disapproving of the fact that Vlad had turned it to look at him. But the man didn't say anything and soon he pushed another button and his previously busy hand stilled. With a white square reflecting in the green irises that stared at the cell phone intently, the man ignored the teen that tried to wiggle away, only grinding his knee into Vlad so that the boy hissed and stopped moving.

His face hid in the tiles again, cursing at his luck and the situation he was in. Vlad ground his teeth his teeth, snarling now. "You're nuts! Okay? Who the hell are you? AND get the fuck off of me! FUCKING BASTARD!"

The gun dug into Vlad's skull hard enough that the teen became obedient and was convinced that his head was now bleeding, but he still whispered dark curses into the floor.

*~*~::..+..::~*~*

Integra was walking towards a door that would bring her to an interrogation room where detectives were already questioning a suspect. Her hand hovered above the doorknob when a sudden buzzing vibration called her eyes to her belt where her cell-phone was clipped and fastened securely. With a cross frown and a knitted brow that further displayed her annoyance, the woman drew her hand back and took out the phone in order to quickly check the text message to make sure it wasn't anything important. If it was her children, they would have to wait…and she would be tempted to scold them later that night, but it so happened that they were not the ones responsible. The sender was labeled:

Hans

Oh. The woman lost the frown and stepped back from the door, giving her full attention to the phone. An hour ago she had gotten a text from her husband telling her that his plane had landed on schedule and that he was now at home, planning to get a good workout in after being crammed in a plane for multiple hours and also planning to work from home today so that he could relax. He wanted them all to go out to dinner tonight and spend some time as a family, hoping to catch up on what they had been doing lately. Her husband had also made plans to do more work from home for the rest of the week, which she had approved of. Hans never contacted her during work hours unless she asked him to, or unless it was necessary.

When she selected the message, the text popped up.

Someone broke into the house - got him on the ground - dont think there are others

"Shit!" Integra's face lined with a scowl, outrage and fear molding her face into a terrifying visage of raw emotion. God damn it! If it had been her children instead of Hans-! GOD! DAMN! IT! Her teeth snapped together while she retreated to the wall across from the door, out of the way from the corridor as she cursed without thinking, too much fury boiling in the blood that was flowing through her brain, to permit restraint. "God damn it!" Her curse filled the hall, but no eyes were in position to look at her, though her voice traveled to a few ears that were unable to interpret what it said.

Her fingers jabbed at the keys.

Ill send some help - dont let him go - do not use too much force - thatll make it harder for me

The text was sent and blazing blue eyes watched the screen as the woman pivoted to stride down the corridor, one hand already going to her walky-talky. But the buzz of a returned text took the hand from the walky-talky so that the message could be opened and answered.

Sorry - force used - needed gun - hes fast

Integra glowered at the phone, cursing again, but another message came that distracted her.

Checked him - no weapons - skinny guy - can handle it - not a big problem so stay calm

Off course I wasn't worried about that, Integra snorted without anything other than ill feelings, void of humor. But now her strides slowed to a walk and then she stopped, realizing that she didn't need to go anywhere if she had her walky-talky as well as her phone for methods of communication. She turned her steps back towards the interrogation room while responding to her husband.

The gun makes this troublesome - put it away - Ill get someone over there

A message came back.

Cant - need it - he doesnt stop otherwise - tried and stronger than I thought - hes an annoying punk

She reread the message once, twice, and stared at the words without realizing she had stopped in the middle of the corridor. 'Need it' Her gaze focused on this steadily, beginning to frown. Hans Anderson was a well built man with a youthful body though he had already reached the age of fifty-five. His hair was full though it was becoming silver in color, a platinum blonde, but his strength had barely dulled from where it had been when he was thirty-five or so. Worry tickled the back of her mind when her fingers clicked at her phone.

What does he look like - is he a big man with short black hair and brown eyes - six foot ten - caucasian - in his twenties

Though she didn't wait for a response with bated breath, her heartbeat quickened. It took some time before her husband replied.

Back in the Anderson home, Hans was making his observations after brushing aside his feelings about the somewhat unexpected question his wife had sent him. She wants to know if she can recognize him, or figure out if this is a man she has already had troubles with before. A man that hates cops, targeting my wife and family…

Hans' green eyes flashed with a hard scowl that Vlad missed as the teen was still grumbling into the tile floor, upset about having the stranger check his clothes for weapons. His paperclip and wire had been confiscated.

Tall but only 5 foot 11 or 6 foot at most 6 foot 1 - think hes caucasian - very white - black hair - not short - red eyes - not a big guy - said he was skinny dear

Within seconds after sending his last text, Han flinched when his phone began to ring, seeming louder than usual after the relative quiet that had persisted for the last few minutes. Vlad looked at it as well, his eyes following the phone and reading the bemused expression on his captor's face. Finally, the phone was brought to Hans' ear and the quiet returned for exactly three seconds, as if someone had purposefully counted out each one. Then a distorted buzzing sound of a voice shot out of the phone, loud enough for Vlad to hear.

Meanwhile, echoing in Hans Anderson's ear and the corridor back at the police station, Integra's infuriated voice roared.

"HAAAAAANS! LET THE BOY GO NOW, OR SO HELP ME GOD I WILL HAVE TO COME HOME AND MAKE YOU RELEASE HIM MYSELF! HOW CAN YOU-" Her voice fell minimally when the echoes made it difficult for her to hear herself. "How can you do that to a boy? That is -! He is friends with your children! A boy! And you- And you-! Oh god damn it Hans, I'm so close to wanting to kill you right now! I've told you not to overreact and everuse or even take that thing out, inside my house! You had better fix this by the time I get home tonight or you will not want to know what I'll have in store for you! -Give the phone to Vladimir, now!" There was one second of silence that impatience lengthened to seem like five. "NOW!"

On the tile floor in front of the door, Integra's husband winced again with the phone pulled away from his ear to avoid damaging it further. Now with a ringing (nearly bleeding) ear, a hard frown with both disapproval and confusion in it, was cast to the staring teenager he assumed was 'Vladimir' who was perfectly quiet now that he had figured out the person the stranger had been communicating with had not been law enforcement.

Hans pushed the phone against Vlad's ear in time for the boy to suffer some of Integra's fury, making him yelp in pain, trying to get away from the speaker.

"I hear you! I hear you! Stop yelling! I can hear you, Jesus fucking Christ! I HEAR YOU!"

It was silent while quiet wrath brewed in the green eyes owned by the husband of the woman Vlad had just cussed at.

The wife, in the mean time, quieted her voice and adopted a calmer tone. "Is that you Vladimir?"

Vlad stared at the tiles, letting Hans put the phone by his ear now. The only person with a female voice that called him that was…the one and only, Integra Anderson. "Chief?"

"Yes. …Vladimir, are you still on the ground?"

"Uh…" Completely lost now, the teen just followed her lead. His eyes darted about, seeing the floor. "Yeah."

"Then, Vladimir, you have permission to kick my husband, if you can."

Quiet.

A light bulb went off and all of the dots could be seen and connected, drawn out of the ignorant darkness, leaving Vlad to give a heaving sigh and lay his face on the tiles with a weak chuckle that further bemused the mentioned husband who was watching. Vlad glanced up at him with curious, still confused and wary, eyes and his lips cracked an awkward smile before he returned his mouth to the receiver of the phone. "Na, I'm good Chief. I…" His words were spaced by a strange giggle that cracked, the boy's body becoming limp and numb now, his head coming to rest on the floor again when he couldn't hold it up anymore. "I guess."

Hans watched quietly, beginning to understand what might be going on. The pale intruder was young, Hans now recognized, and he was no longer resisting or making trouble since he had started speaking to Integra. And the grin the kid was giving him now…

The man hesitated but got off of the teen and stood up, holding the gun by his side with Vlad's red eyes following him part of the way before giving up and focusing on the phone that had been left on the ground by his head. Vlad picked it up and rolled, with a level of difficulty that made him grunt, to the side so that he could lay on his back, not capable of doing more after the excitement he had just endured.

"He let me go now…so….but-" Vlad laughed again, airily, rolling his eyes up to the ceiling. Now he was at a loss for words, overflowing with relief and other warped feelings.

Integra heard the laugh and sighed, feeling disgust and shame for having done this to the boy, though it wasn't her fault, tapping her fingers against the arm that was holding the cell phone up to her ear. "Good. So, Vladimir, the man with you…is my husband, Seras and Alexander's father. …I'm at work right now and I can't leave….and both Seras and Alexander aren't supposed to be back until 2:30 in the afternoon... But I would like it if you could stay at my house until I get there. I would like to speak with you, Vladimir, about some things, alright? You're not hurt or anything…?"

"No, not really." Another chuckle bubbled up as Vlad felt his face begin to throb again, synchronizing with the pain in his back and the pounding blood that was rushing back into his arm after having Hans' knee cut off its circulation. With his instincts still on partial alert, the boy couldn't close his eyes to rest, but he let them become unfocused as he watched the ceiling. "So…I'll stay here then." With the crazy guy that almost killed me. Sounds great.

"Yes…and tell my husband to help you out if he did hurt you. Ask him for anything. I don't care. He can be your slave for the day, you understand?"

"…Yeah….I guess…" The sheepish response was murmured by the recovering teen who rubbed his face with his sleeve and tried coughing to make his voice stronger when he shifted his free hand to his hair.

Integra sighed again and closed her eyes for a time while she spoke. "You need to be patient with my husband, Vladimir. He's mute, so he won't be able to talk to you…he will most likely write what he needs to say down on paper. We generally communicate through sign language at home… I have to go now. I know Hans won't do anything else, but I'll apologize now. He's not the warmest person in the world, I'll tell you that. Okay?"

"….yeah, Chief. 'Kay."

The woman smiled sadly to herself with a nod of her head. "Goodbye Vladimir."

"Bye."Integra ended the call and refreshed herself with a long, composing breath, shaking her head at this mess. Her feet brought her to the door of the interrogation room and two flickering blue eyes looked at its occupants to find them staring or gawking at her, all of them pale while the suspect had begun to hyperventilate in his seat when she opened the door.

"Oh god….please d-don't leave me here alone with her."