Hellsing Fan Fiction / Witch Hunter Robin Fan Fiction ❯ Fire in the Blood ❯ Aftermath ( Chapter 1 )

I do not own Hellsing, Witch Hunter Robin, Castlevania, or any of its characters. They are owned by Kouta Hiraino, Bandai Entertainment, and Konami respectively, as well as a few others I am probably forgetting.

A note on cannons. This is a crossover of the three anime/games mentioned above, however knowledge of Castlevania is completely unrequired to read this fic, as all Castlevania elements will be explained in it. It picks up after both animes, but incorporates many elements from the Hellsing mangas.

This fic is tentatively rated PG-13 for now, but will most likely be bumped up to an R rating later.

Thank you for your patience, and enjoy.

"The choice, Sir Integra, is yours..."

BAM! BAM!

The low knock rang through Integra's small cell. Alucard opened his hand and let the shards of the wine glass fall to the floor.

"Choose wisely." Alucard's low chuckle echoed through the small room and he faded into darkness.

BAM! BAM!

"Are you... decent, Miss Integra?"

Integra flinched. What would her father have though of her being called "Miss"? She took the cigar out of her mouth. "You may enter."

The door slowly opened. Integra squinted at the sudden light that shone into the room.

"The Queen will see you now.

Integra had had many audiences with the Queen before. She had even been called on the carpet before, when she was in her late teens. The ceremony was always the same. Integra would kneel before the Queen and pledge her undying loyalty as well as her skill and knowledge of the undead. The Queen would then accept her pledge, and then they would get around to the matter at hand. Walter had told her once that the ceremony was based on her great-grandfather's first audience with the monarch of England.

The cloth handcuffs, however, were new.

"Integral Wingates Hellsing, I am sorry to inform you that the Round Table Conference has found you guilty of treason against the crown. As such, your family is stripped of its land and titles, all records of your birth and life shall be purged, and Hellsing manor shall be renovated and auctioned off to another. In effect, you will officially cease to exist; in fact, you will effectively never have existed."

Integra kept her head bowed, humiliated but still amazed that she was still alive. She wanted to leave, to retain at least the smallest bit of her dignity; but she could not, would not leave, not until she had been dismissed.

"Now," the Queen said, "To the issue of establishing a new demon-hunting organization. Rise, Integra Hellsing."

Integra rose and stood, straight backed, in front of the Queen.

"In view of you and your family's exemplary service to Great Britain, I am offering you knighthood, a seat on the Round Table, and a position as director of the newly formed Hellsing organization. Do you accept?"

Integra raised an eyebrow slightly. "I'm afraid I don't understand your majesty."

The Queen wrote something on a slip of paper and handed it to an attendant, who walked down the stairs and handed it to Integra. She stared at the slip of paper and smiled slightly.

"Can you put your house in order by the knighting ceremony in a week's time?"

Integra folded up the slip of paper and slid it into her pocket. "I think I can manage your majesty."

Chapter 1-Aftermath

It started with a report by a BBC reporter covering the effort to reconstruct the Tower of London, and indeed, most of England, following the devastating terrorist attacks. It was the cub reporters first piece, and it surprised everyone by being amazingly good.

The program was playing in a New York Airport on a bank of television screens, displaying different news networks, the BBC among them. A pale man with long dark hair sat in a chair idly and watched the program. He shook his head slightly every time the reporter decried the Hellsing organization as the culprit.

A McDonald's bag dropped into his lap as a young man with red hair tied back into a pony-tail and the beginnings of a goatee vaulted over the seat back to sit beside him

"How can you eat that?" the redhead asked, pulling a Styrofoam box and a pair of cheap chopsticks from a plastic bag.

"Once you reach a certain age, most food starts to taste the same."

"Oh? And what age is that?"

"Two-hundred and fifty."

The redhead shrugged and started digging into his General Tso's Chicken. He followed the pale man's gaze and started watching the new report with him.

"It's a thankless job, isn't it?" the redhead said, staring at the BBC reporter.

"The vampire's greatest power is that no one will believe in him. So to combat it, we hunters must also not exist."

The redhead nodded. He stood up and walked to a trash can where he threw away the Styrofoam container and plastic bag. He returned to his seat and pulled a file from out of his luggage.

"How did you find out about Orlox wanting these two?"

"I've had some old friends looking into Orlox's movements."

"The DeNasty's?" the redhead asked, flipping through his file.

The pale man nodded and began to eat his Big Mac.

A voice rang out over the loud speaker, announcing that flight 2893 to England was now boarding rows 15-26. The pale man put the remains of his Big Mac in the bag, stood up, gathered his luggage, and started walking towards the boarding area.

"Hey, Al!" the redhead called out, "Good luck with your father!"

The pale man gave him a rare smile. "Thank you Julius... but it's Adrian now. The name of Alucard belongs to someone else." Adrian turned around and vanished into the crowd.

It was picked up and broadcast for English speaking audiences in a hotel room in Rio de Janeiro. A young woman about sixteen years old put down the remote and hugged her knees to her chest as she watched.

A tall, dark haired man stepped in from the bathroom and looked at the news report. He shrugged and continued to towel off the shaving cream.

"Who did that?" Robin wondered aloud.

"A vampire," Amon responded.

Robin looked up at him. "A vampire?"

"Most likely. Currently the only beings that posses power like that are vampires. And not too many of them even then."

Robin turned back to the television. After a while, she asked, "Will I be that powerful one day?"

"It's possible," Amon said. He took a blanket and a pillow from the bed and threw them onto the floor. He started laying guns out onto a table.

"Get some sleep," Amon said, "we're leaving early." He started to take apart and clean an automatic.

Robin turned off the TV and rested her head on the remaining pillow.

Robin's nightmares usually involved fire. Her own power burning out of control, taking everyone she loved. What frightened her the most about these nightmares was that she was always outside of her own head during them. She was always watching herself smiling as her friends burned.

This nightmare started very similarly. Fires raged through her dream, consuming everyone she cared for. This time, it wasn't her that she was watching. It wasn't her smiling.

A short, fat man, cast almost entirely in shadow, laughed as the flame consumed everything. Robin tried to push back the fire with her own flames, but it was useless. She wasn't strong enough, she didn't have enough control. All she could do was watch everything burn, as the short, fat man laughed.

The report was watched in its country of origin, in a small pub in London.

Seras ordered another beer, knowing it wouldn't make her any less thirsty. It had been almost a month and a half since Sir Hellsing was arrested, and without her supply of medical blood, Seras was almost starved to death. She had come dangerously close to attacking humans in the past few days. And now she was sitting in a bar, drinking liquids that killed her judgment and did nothing to quench her thirst.

The barman brought her beer to her. She reached for some money when a hand suddenly slapped some notes on the bar, "I got this one, barkeep."

And the worst part of it was that she was in a pub full of guys who looked like they hadn't seen a real life pair of breasts in a long time.

The man who had slapped the notes down on the bar seemed to be the leader. Fairly tall, with long light brown hair tied back into a braid, a cowboy hat, and an eye-patch over his left eye. He shoved his hand out. "Captain Pip Bernadette."

"Thank you, Captain Bernadette," Seras said, shaking his hand and squeezing it just a bit too hard. God, his blood smells good, Seras thought.

Pip winced and sat down next to Seras. "Only my men call me Captain Bernadette, everyone else can call me Pip."

"You're French, aren't you?" Seras responded, sipping at her beer. God, his blood smells sweet. Probably type AB too. And his neck is soooo exposed.

"Did the accent give it away? Nice contacts, by the way, where did you get `em? They make you look scary as hell."

"You like them scary, do you?" The blood is the life.

"...You alright there? You look kind of pale."

Seras nodded her head forward. It was growing awfully dark. The blood is the life, the blood is the life. "I'm... fine...." What she wanted to do right now was just move away from the aggravating Frenchman and nap in a booth somewhere. Unfortunately, what she wanted took a back seat to what she needed. Something primal took over her brain and she lunged for Pip's neck. The last thing she remembered before blacking out completely was a constricting feeling around her torso.

When she regained consciousness, she was on the floor, lapping up blood. She jumped up suddenly, a look of pure disgust and horror on her face.

"Miss Victoria, please don't stop drinking on our account. Quite honestly, it's a miracle you made it this long."

Seras looked down at her hands to realize that she had been sucking the blood out of a transfusion pack. She looked back up to see Walter, a bandage around his head, sitting across at a table. Captain Bernadette sat across from him, sipping at a beer. The bartender had disappeared, and some of the patrons were hovering around the doors in a noticeably threatening fashion.

Seras ran up to Pip. "I am so sorry, are you alright?"

Pip fingered his long braid, which he had wrapped around his neck. "Eh, there are worse ways to die than an overzealous hickey."

Seras glared at him. Pip grinned and tapped his eye-patch. "Besides," he said, "I've had worse."

Walter indicated that Seras should sit down and cleared his throat. "We're hiring Captain Bernadette's mercenary group, the Wild Geese, to staff the new Hellsing Organization. It was pure luck that you happened to be in this bar when I arrived."

Seras stopped sucking on the blood pack and tried to get her thoughts in order. "You're replacing Commander Ferguson with this creep? And anyway, isn't Hellsing disbanded? And where did this blood pack come from?"

Walter held up a hand. "Please slow down, Miss Victoria. You're still quite weak from the blood loss. We've been looking for you for quite some time now, and every operative we still have has been carrying around a blood pack or two in case they found you. I just found you first."

Seras nodded and continued to sip at the blood pack.

"As for Hellsing, her majesty has seen fit to reinstate us. Which reminds me," Walter said, bringing a pen and a note pad from his pocket, "we'll need have you fitted for a dress uniform for the knighting ceremony ... Captain, I don't suppose you have your own dress uniforms?"

Pip raised an eyebrow and sipped at his beer. "Dress uniforms? No. I have a semi-formal outfit or two if that helps."

Walter frowned. "We'll see."

"Knighting ceremony? But Sir, I mean, Miss Integra was stripped of her title, wasn't she? That isn't exactly something you can go back on."

Walter took a napkin and scribbled something on it with his pen. He slid it over to Seras.

Seras glanced down at the napkin, then started at Walter, an eyebrow raised questioningly. "Is it really that simple?"

"Everyone of any importance knows the truth of what happened that night, and nobody feels comfortable with anyone but Sir Integra in charge. In cases such as these, people are surprisingly wiling to look the other way, with a few small provisions."

"And what exactly do the provisions entail?"

"The supplying of our own army is the most relevant, which is where Captain Bernadette comes in, assuming he's willing?"

Pip reached into his jacket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He selected one from the pack and lit it.

"So, no more war, huh? Just guard duty, hunting, and destroying? A real home..." He pointed at Seras, "And our main duty will be hunting down cute freaks like her, right?"

Seras slapped him, sending him sprawling to the floor. He chuckled, pulled himself into his chair, and lit another cigarette.

"Most of your prey won't be as nearly as pleasant as Miss Victoria," Walter said.

Pip took a deep drag on his cigarette. "We'll take it. The Wild Geese are yours to command."

Walter smiled and produced several cards. "Excellent. Have all your men and equipment at this address by ten o'clock tonight. If you need assistance moving any of your equipment, contact this company and charge the cost to this credit card."

Pip grinned. "Done." He stood up and saluted to Seras. "I'll see you later tonight, kitten. Come on boys, let's get moving!" He left the pub, the other patrons leaving with him.

Walter nodded contentedly and slowly stood up. "Well, if there isn't anything you want from where ever it is you've been staying, shall we go home now, Miss Victoria?"

"Home?" Seras asked.

"Yes. I've kept your room just as you left it."

It was watched, as so many other news programs were watched, in an office in Vatican City. This office, and several other places like it throughout the city, resided in churches permanently marked to the general public as "Under Renovation".

Father Enrico Maxwell, director of the Vatican's Section XIII, sat in his chair and stared at the two reports on his desk. "So, the Protestant whore is being reinstated. You'd think England could do better."

A quiet knock at the door distracted him from his preoccupation with Integra Hellsing.

"Come in!" he called.

Father Renaldo entered the room and quietly closed the door behind him. "Heinkel and Yumiko have returned with Bishop Gandolfini."

"Any trouble?" Enrico asked.

"A few vampire fanatics, only one vampire to speak of."

"FREAK-chipped, I assume?"

Father Renaldo nodded. Enrico stood up, walked to the window, and stared out over Vatican City. "Did they recover the chip?"

Renaldo nodded, even though Maxwell couldn't see him. He didn't have to see him, he already knew the answer. Heinkel and Yumiko were among his best agents.

"Get the chip down to the research department; see if it's one of the new ones that have been turning up. And make sure my clothes are cleaned and that my overnight bag is packed."

Renaldo nodded. "Sir, why are we attending this ceremony in the first place?"

Enrico turned around, sat down at his desk, and picked up a report. "Because if this true, we're going to need all the help we can get."

"Even heretical help?"

Enrico smiled. "Especially heretical help. Come Father, haven't you heard of the phrase `canon fodder'?"

It was watched on a computer screen in the Raven's Flat building in Japan.

"Remind me again why we have to go to this thing?" Sakaki asked, leaning back in his chair and tilting his head back to look up at Karasuma, who was standing behind him.

"Public relations, Haruto. The Catholic Church is on the outs with the British Government right now, something to do with the Iscariot Organization. Section Five, in the interests of goodwill, has asked Solomon to send us over to see if we can help make amends."

"But why us?" Sakaki asked, swiveling his chair around. "We're hunters, not diplomats."

"Well, we are kind of famous in the black-ops world." Michael said, never taking his eyes off the news report. "I'm sure Solomon just wants to show off the agents who took down the Factory."

Karasuma turned to Michael. "Which reminds me, Michael, do you have actually have anything we can `show you off' in?"

Michael looked down at his dirty black t-shirt. "Er... not really."

Karasuma turned to Sakaki, "And you?"

Sakaki shook his head. Karasuma sighed and put her hand on her forehead. "This is not part of my job description..."

"Who's going to do our job while we're away?" Sakaki asked.

Karasuma nodded towards the Administrator's office. "The boss is calling in for a team from Solomon HQ. They'll work in conjunction with Eliza."

"That's an awful lot of responsibility to shove on someone so green, isn't it?" Sakaki asked.

"You were a rookie once yourself, Haruto," Michael said, turning his attention back to the report on the computer screen.

Eliza stepped out of the office. Karasuma walked towards her, pushing Sakaki's head as she passed. "You're still a rookie," she said.

Karasuma put an arm around Eliza's shoulders. "Are you okay? Ready to take this one on?"

Eliza nodded uncertainly. Karasuma took a card from her pocket and handed it to her. "If things get really, really bad, and you don't know what to do, call this man. He'll help you."

Eliza looked down at the card. "Nagira?"

"Just don't let him take you to any pachinko parlors," Karasuma said as she entered the Administrator's office.

It was watched, by a multitude of eyes, in a dark room. A white gloved hand reached out and picked up a remote. It hit the power button and placed the remote back on the table. The owner of the hand, a short, pudgy man, smiled. "Amazing. His power is almost god-like! Incognito, even after taking Set into himself, never stood a chance!" He turned to the figure on his left who was nervously biting his knuckle. "What say you, Doc?"

Doc shook his head and adjusted his multi-colored glasses. "I am sorry, Major, but there was nothing we could do to improve him. He was, after all, supposed to have died a long time ago."

The Major shook his head. "No, Doctor. This was a victory! We now know what Alucard is capable of when his power is unleashed! Tell me, Orlox, is it him? Is it your old master?"

The man referred to as Orlox stepped forward and pushed his sunglasses up his nose. "It's him alright. He's not using the powers from the Crimson Stone, but it's him."

"Are you sure?" Doc asked.

Orlox nodded. "I'm sure." He picked up the remote and pointed it at another TV screen. It flickered on to reveal a shadowy picture. Someone, or something, impaled on a long metal spike. "I'm very sure."

"Schrödinger? Warrant Officer Schrödinger?" The Major said.

A blonde boy dressed in a Hitler Youth uniform sitting at the Major's feet stirred and yawned. Schrödinger stood up and scratched his fuzzy ears. "Sorry Major, I fell asleep. What was that about? EEP!"

Schrödinger suddenly found himself lifted up by the collar and staring into his reflection in Doc's glasses. "Warrant Officer Schrödinger! What have I told you about-"

The Major held up a hand. "It's alright, Doc. It was a full moon last night. It's to be expected that he's a little tired."

Doc sighed and put Schrödinger down.

The Major handed Schrödinger several envelopes. "These are the Werewolves' orders, including yours and the Count's."

Schrödinger nodded.

The Major nodded. "Dismissed."

Schrödinger and Orlox stood at attention, their arms held out at an upward angel. "SIEG HEIL!" They quietly left the room, leaving the Major and his shadows to themselves.

The shadow on the Major's right side reached out and picked up the remote. He hit a button and the main screen flickered on to reveal news footage of a helicopter, smoke billowing from its tail, flying behind the Tower of London and crashing.

The Major patted the arm of the silent shadow next to him. "Don't worry Captain. The Angel of Death is far more resilient than that. You'll have your fight yet, old friend."

The Captain looked down at the Major from under his hat and nodded almost imperceptibly.

He handed the remote to the Major, who pressed a few buttons. The footage of the helicopter crash disappeared, replaced with the picture of Incognito impaled on the metal spike.

"Time for our shots," Doc said, producing three syringes. He handed one to the Major and one to the Captain.

The Major started to roll up his sleeve as he stared at the picture. "What a superb war declaration, don't you think so?"

"Yes," Doc said as he injected the syringe into his arm, "A magnificent specimen. I cannot wait to have him under my scalpel."

"Yes, a superb war declaration," the Major said as he depressed the plunger on his syringe. "I'm so glad. This means war. This means we can again go to war."