A Hellsing/BtVS crossover
Rating: R for adult themes and violence. What's an adult theme anyway? Is that like bom-chaka-bow-wow?
Description: Hellsing's investigation into source of the FREAK chip leads to the Initiative, Sunnydale, and the chip's origins – a vampire only known as Hostile 17. Betrayal comes in many forms, as everyone is about to discover.
Takes place after Order 13
of the Hellsing
anime and season seven of Buffy, post- Showtime
Disclaimer: The characters in Hellsing belong to um, er, well they don't belong to me, and neither do the ones from Buffy the Vampire Slayer. But you knew that already.
She supposed she should have been flattered; after all, the Beaumont Tower implied she was important enough to be imprisoned in a cellar usually reserved for the most dangerous enemies of the state.
It didn't matter that they'd discovered the traitor to the Round Table. It didn't matter that without Hellsing - Alucard and her agents, London would have been the MasterFREAK Theatre hotspot of Europe.
They'd wanted something to blame for the Buckingham Palace massacre, and the Institute was convenient; they'd needed someone to sacrifice, and its leader, Sir Integra Wingates Hellsing was presented to Her Majesty on a silver platter.
Integra leaned back against the wall of the cell, the narrow cot her seat, as she fiddled with her last cigar. When she'd first been arrested, they'd cuffed her in soft wrist restraints out of consideration for her massive neck and abdominal injuries. No one had bothered to switch to shackles when it became apparent she had no intention of trying to escape.
The ever-unkillable Walter Dorne, who had not been acting executor of the estate since she'd reached her majority five years ago, slipped with only a minimum of fuss back into command once he'd been released from the hospital. Aided, of course, by a bit of cheating on her part.
That bit of cheating usually showed up thirty minutes after evening supper had been served. Like clockwork, Alucard would materialize with her laptop, cell phone and Henry Wintermans in hand.
Had Integra been less busy ruling by-proxy, she might have found some amusement at the thought of Hellsing Institute's greatest weapon having been reduced to a mere errand boy.
Unfortunately, it also turned out to be the perfect excuse for Alucard to pester her on a regular basis as well. Perhaps it was because he, himself, had been bound and starved in her cellar for twenty years, that he would find her incarceration to be particularly irritating, a personal affront, almost. "Her Majesty and your country have abandoned you. You have no reason to stay here." "Be that as it may, I still have my duty. I serve Her Majesty, my country and God. You would do best to remember who you serve." His mouth had formed into something of a sneer. "How could I possibly forget...Master? Though I doubt your God even cares that you're rotting away in this tomb." Oh, that one had been too easy. "Well. This must feel just like home to you then." "Perhaps. But it's not for the living. Not for you." He'd tilted his head, the right corner of his lip curling up to reveal a hint of fang. "Unless you plan to take me up on my offer."
And it always came around to that. Every night, the same thing - a mocking smile and the offer of blood.
Predictable as always. It was almost charming in its simplicity. Almost.
Integra glanced at her watch for the fifth time in twenty minutes before lighting her cigar.
He was late.
With an impatient mind unused to something as simple as idleness, she pushed the bridge of her wire-rimmed glasses back up her nose and re-read the assorted carvings on the wall behind her, all elegant verse and graffiti dating back through the centuries. Her hands itched for activity, something
to do, and she was on the verge of picking up the steak knife from her dinner tray to carve out her own niche in the wall of traitors.
A bump, followed by a curse sounded behind her, and Integra shifted over on the cot, warily eyeing the source of the noise. Seconds later, the disheveled head and shoulders of Seras Victoria emerged from the wall, windmilling her arms as if she were doing a slow-motion breaststroke through quicksand. At her waist, the vampire-in-training paused for a breather, drooping bonelessly in place.
"Sorry," she puffed with unnecessary breath. "Master Alucard's been trying to teach me how to do this, but I still haven't quite gotten the hang of it yet." She unhooked the yellow backpack from her shoulders and handed it to her boss.
As she took the bag, Integra allowed herself a fleeting moment to wonder how this absurd picture might appear from another perspective; if there was someone on the other side trying to figure out why there was an arse sticking out of the wall.
Unphasing her hands, Seras latched onto the edge of the cot and heaved forward, drawing the rest of her nebulous self through the stone. Finally freed, she flopped crosswise onto bunk, exhausted. A moment later, as if suddenly remembering where she was, she shot up off the cot and stood at attention before Sir Hellsing.
"S-sir! I was instructed to deliver your items by Master Alucard."
Integra hmm'ed as she pulled her laptop out of the backpack. "And what sort of trouble is he out causing tonight?"
Other motions ceased as pale blue eyes narrowed. "Well?"
The vampire scratched her neck, a nervous stutter causing her voice to waver. "Uh...he mentioned something about...finding religion?"
"Well, s'a bit o' predicament you've gotten y'rself 'ta dinnae 'gree?" Father Alexander Anderson grinned as he drove the point of a blessed blade into the vampire's neck.
A matching grin revealed a row of bloody, needle-like teeth. "Predicament?" Alucard rasped, air hissing through the open slit in his throat as fingers of an impossibly extended hand clutched the Iscariot's mandible and tore it off, hurling the mangled jaw into next Tuesday. "I'd say the fun's only beginning." Where are you?
The vampire tilted his head at the whisper. Well. This was certainly unexpected. Still, Alucard found himself inordinately pleased with this impromptu visit from her. Or perhaps, being ever the exhibitionist, he simply enjoyed having a virtual audience for this particular scene.
Integra... he practically purred. What a nice surprise.
An image of Alucard flashed in Integra's mind, complete with the assorted stab-wounds he presently sported. A particular nasty gash had opened his neck from front to back, revealing a collection of severed arteries and a portion of what appeared to be trachea, spilling gore down the collar and front of his otherwise impeccable white linen shirt.
Alucard felt her mind twitch in response, taking a mental half-step back. Perhaps she hadn't expected her feeble attempt at contact to actually work. But there were so many things she didn't know. So many things he could teach her, if she'd only...
Two knives slid home into his shoulders. Ohh...right. Playing again?
Sir Integra never remained nonplused for long. You appear to be somewhat perforated. On the contrary,
Alucard, in an impressive feat of multitasking, snapped his left hand out of his coat, drawing out the ridiculously long-barreled Casull, all the while dodging the next set of knives that seemed to come from everywhere, and shot back the mindblip. I'm doing quite well.
Oh, he could envision her now, her perfectly pressed olive suit and tie, left leg cocked up on the narrow bunk, wearing the smirk she'd learned from him years ago.
And those soft-restraint handcuffs. But that was a different idle thought.
He pulled twice on the trigger of the .454 just as four more blessed blades were plunged into his torso. Both supernatural...creatures...for lack of a better word...stumbled back from the twin impact, bodies spraying blood into the air. The Catholic priest recovered first, bullets vomiting forth from his chest, as his wounds shrunk from the pair of fist-sized holes into mere puckers. For some reason, he hadn't bothered to regenerate his jaw. Without a jaw, the tongue just sort of hangs there, doesn't it?
Two more daggers appeared in Anderson's hands, and with a war scream unhindered by the lower missing half of his face, he ran towards the fookin' blight'n God's great earth
. And yet it still doesn't prevent the fool from yapping incessantly on.
Arching back under the blades in an elegant sidestep, Alucard twisted at a nearly impossible angle, proving he was impressively double-jointed, as his right brandished the even bigger Jackal out from his duster. He is rather like a small, annoying dog.
The vampire's arms bent back, around and down, both guns pointing towards each other, before simultaneously unloading at Anderson's legs. The paladin crashed to the ground, and slid forward, leaving twin streaks of red on the concrete, as both knees disappeared under thirteen millimeters of point-blank fury.
Alucard's grin widened as he watched the Iscariot agent scrabble around the ground on his hands and the stumped remains of his legs, cursing and snapping. Now that you mention it, yes. Yes he is. Nice shot.
A tinge of grudging admiration. Still, are you sure you ought to be doing your fighting at the Council of Watchers Headquarters?
Won't be here much longer. Now, let's see if I can't get both arms with one--
Integra's head jerked back, cracking against the stone wall as the mental equivalent of a concussion grenade went off in her head, and it all blacked out from there.
Swimming out of unconsciousness after minutes...hours...who knew...she opened her eyes to Seras gently patting her face with soft, mildly hysterical pleas of "Sir Integra!"
Waving the former police woman aside, Integra pushed herself up to a sitting position and found herself instantly rewarded with a round of nausea that sent the room spinning, with the back of her head as its axis. A warm trickle ran down her nose and over her mouth. She swiped the back of a gloved fist across it in irritation.
Glancing up, Integra saw Seras unconsciously lick her lips and swallow hard before looking away. Looking back down, she noticed the back of her glove stained with blood. With a grimace, Integra drew the offending item off and tossed it to the floor near where her now guttered cigar had rolled. That action caused her focus to swim for several more seconds before she regained back the grip on her brain. Alucard!
Nothing. She waited. Unconsciously, her ungloved hand moved to her mouth. Teeth closed over her thumbnail.
As she prepared to call out again, a weak, but distinct, I'm here
, filtered through. Integra saw a mass of eyeballs and primordial sludge slowly pulling itself back together amidst the smoking wreckage. What happened? Apparently, the building exploded.
One pale eyebrow shot up. I had nothing to do with it
, came the protest.
She grunted dismissively. It was an eyesore anyway. You do realize, though, that blowing up Anderson puts a damper on negotiations with the Vatican?
An amused pause. I thought you'd broken that habit.
Integra jerked her thumbnail out of her mouth. I wouldn't worry too much. It might take the Iscariot a few days to locate all of his bits, but it looks like he might have actually survived. I see. Pity. I could finish the job, if you like.
Tempting. No, just check for any survivors and head back here when you've pulled yourself together.
"I'm glad you're all right."
The puzzled look Seras' face told her she'd just spoken out loud.
Another pause. Sir Hellsing could have sworn the shadowy mass had actually just grinned. As always, my master.