Black Lagoon Fan Fiction / Hellsing Fan Fiction / Gunsmith Cats Fan Fiction ❯ Night Angels ❯ London Drift, Pt 2 ( Chapter 23 )

XXX

THE M-5 MOTORWAY, LATER THAT NIGHT…

The rain was still falling, even after the explosion had faded. In the air, the acrid smell of burned flesh and gasoline still permeated the air as the various fire and rescue brigades began the clean-up of the horrific crash scene. As the hours would later go by, the sounds of departing ambulances would be almost constant, the rescuers vainly hoping for signs of life within the heated rubble. But more often than not, their efforts would only be rewarded with despair and disappointment.

And at the head of the scene, near the source of the deadly chain-reaction pile-up, Sir Reginald Townstead, chief inspector of Scotland Yard – and secretly a member of the Knights of the Round Table, guarded a section of the crash from the rescuers; his only comment was the preservation of a crime scene. Standing under his umbrella, he looked at the source of the tragedy – a late-1986 Honda Civic, the right side caved-in and the hood crumpled.

“What a bloody waste,” he said under his breath. Secretly, though, he hoped that the investigative team he requested from a fellow member of the Round Table, Sir Integra Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing, would arrive soon – mostly so that the rest of this mess could get cleaned-up before the morning rush.

During this contemplation, a constable, wearing rain gear, approached him, tapping Sir Townstead on the shoulder. “Chief Inspector,” the young man began, “there’s a group of young women in a foreign-built car asking to approach. They had said that you requested them.”

“I see,” Sir Townstead mused. “Very well, have them waved in. It’s time we’ve got this sad business taken care of.”

“Right-o,” the constable replied, then made the request over his radio.

XXX

Outside the barricades sealing off the accident scene, a blue 1967 Ford Mustang Shelby Cobra GT-500 patiently waited for permission to enter. Inside the car, Irene “Rally” Vincent, seated at the driver’s seat, gently tapped on the steering wheel. Next to her, Seras Victoria leaned back in the seat, sighing impatiently. Meanwhile, in the back seat, Moria Hedgley looked ahead, trying to catch a view of what’s going on. “Looks like something happening over where those constables are gathered,” the maid, who like her fellows was dressed in causal clothing and raingear, observed.

“About time,” Seras grumbled impatiently, straightening herself in her seat. “We’ve been waiting at this stop for far too long.”

“Wouldn’t have been too bad if they hadn’t gone to your window, Master,” Rally chuckled, starting up the car.

“You would think they would have seen an American car, though,” the Draculina added. “I’ve known the difference since I was in diapers.”

In the meantime, one of the constables that Moria saw made his way to Rally’s side. “Alright ladies, you can go in,” he said, motioning the other constables to move the barricade, “but I would be careful in there. We don’t know if the roadway has been damaged because of the fire and there’s still debris out there.”

“That’s okay, we’ll keep an eye out for it, Constable,” Rally answered. “Thank you.”

Edging the car slowly forward, the three women could only look in horror as rescuers pulled a badly-burned body out of one car, while others were treating an injured little girl on the side. “This is tragic… utterly tragic!” Moria gasped.

“It certainly is a mess, no doubt about it,” Seras added.

Rally looked around and added further, “This is worst than the start/finish line at Talladega after a ‘Big One’ hit. The only difference is that at least the drivers are still walking about afterwards… not all these burnt corpses.”

“What are you talking about, Rally?” Moria asked, a little confused about the statement.

Seras laughed. “Remind me to let you know about Rally’s various obsessions – like NASCAR for one.”

“Is that it?” the maid replied, catching on. “Well at least you could’ve compared this scene to a form of motorcar racing that I could identify with, like one of the Formula 1 circuits.”

“Oh really?” Rally snorted. “Personally, the only F-1 race I’m really interested in is the Grand Prix in Monaco. Now don’t get me wrong Moria, it’s not that I don’t like F-1 racing. The cars that they race are really something… high-tech works of art. It’s just that… there’s always something exciting about seeing Tony Steward breaking through the pack in the final turn to take the checkered flag! Now that’s something to watch!”

“Tony Steward?” Moria thought for a moment, then asked, “Is he related to Jackie Steward, then?”

Rally groaned inwardly, nearly bouncing her head on the steering wheel. “No,” she mumbled, while she heard Seras laughing behind her hands. Deciding to forget her embarrassment, she looked ahead of her. “Okay, this is as far as we can safely go.” Ahead, another barricade was erected, and with even more constables guarding it.

As soon as Rally had the Cobra parked with a reasonable amount of backing space, the three women got out, the two vampires first, while Seras assisted Moria out of the cramped back seat. As soon as everyone was out, the three made their way to the edge of the barricade. “Excuse me ladies, what is your business here?” one of the constables challenged.

Rally then presented a card to the constable – a royal access pass. “We’re here to see Sir Townstead, Constable,” she said.

The constable looked at the card. “I see. Follow me, if you would?” he said, urging the girls on.

They only traveled a few feet when the constable leading them caught the inspector’s attention. “Ah Miss Vincent, nice to see you again,” he said. “And Miss Victoria, a pleasure to see you as well.” But then, Sir Townstead caught sight of the woman behind them. “Moria?” he asked, surprised. “I didn’t expect to see you here as well!”

“Nice to see you as well, Uncle Reggie,” the maid replied, causing a bit of confused looks on Rally and Seras. “Sir Integra assigned me to Rally and Seras as a part-time agent.”

“And a good thing she did. I really thought you were wasting your talents by just being a maid,” Sir Townstead said. “Well, shall we get to it?”

“Uhhh… yes, please,” Seras said. As soon as the three got going, the Draculina leaned over to Moria and asked, “Uncle Reggie?”

“Oh don’t worry you two, we’re not related,” Moria laughed. “I’ve been always calling him that since I was a little girl.”

Sir Townstead overheard and added, chuckling, “I’m an old friend of Moria’s maternal grandfather, Peter Farguson. Moira’s mother was his only child and since we didn’t see much of her father’s relations, I, more-or-less, became somewhat an adoptive uncle to hers.” He then paused in his reminiscence by saying, “Well, I won’t keep you three any further. Time we got to the cause of this tragedy.”

The four proceeded down the pile of wrecked cars, stepping over mangled heaps of wreckage as they did. As soon as they arrived at the head of the line, Rally gasped in horror. “OH MY GOD!!! THAT’S AWFUL!!!” She then raced over to the wrecked Civic, studying it from front grille to rear wing. “Oh man, I hate to see something like this, a beautiful car abused like this… a total mess! If Bean Bandit ever saw something like this, I’m certain he would’ve sneezed bricks just at the sight of it!” She then bent down into the left-front wheel well, adding, “OH CRAP! THE STRUTS AND THE FRONT END ARE TOTALED, TOO!!!” She morosely placed a hand on the front fender, moaning sympathetically, “Your owner must’ve loved you, you sweet thing. But I’m certain someone could salvage something in you so that you can live again in another form.”

Sir Townstead scratched his head. “What was that all about?” he said, confused.

“Don’t ask me, Uncle Reggie,” Moria added with a deadpan tone. “I’m just as confused as you are.”

After a few minutes of Rally apparently mourning over the wrecked Civic, Sir Townstead cleared his throat. “Well,” he began, “now that the proper… er… memorials are done with, I would like to ask you ladies to take a look at the driver’s side, if you don’t mind.” He then motioned to the deputy chief inspectors milling about and added, “And don’t mind the lads here, they’re well aware of the situation you people of the Hellsing Organization are facing. If something wicked happened around here, they’ll cover for us.”

“Because of what, Uncle Reggie?” Moria asked.

“Must be because of this guy,” Rally added, looking at the driver’s side of the Civic – the driver looking like a rotting corpse. “Sir Townstead, is it possible that the fire did this?”

“Not likely,” Sir Townstead replied. “It doesn’t look like the flames from the explosion of the petrol truck reached this far.”

“Well he certainly couldn’t drive the car in the condition he was in.” Rally scratched her chin, trying to figure out the situation. “Sir Townstead, is it possible… IRK!!!” All of a sudden, the corpse’s hand had shot across the window, grabbing Rally by the throat. At the same time, it had opened the wrecked door and exited the car, exchanging hands in the process in order to clear the window opening.

At the same time, several of the D.C.I. under Sir Townstead’s command drew down on the creature. “CHIEF, THE BODY’S A GHOUL!!!” one of them called out, trying to aim at the creature.

“TELL ME SOMETHING I DON’T KNOW!!! WELL WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR, YOU BLODDY IDIOTS, SHOOT THE DAMN THING!!!” Sir Townstead called out, also taking aim.

“WE CAN’T!!! WE DON’T HAVE A CLEAR SHOT AT THE THING!!” the D.C.I. said.

At the same time, Moira and Seras took-up positions to try to aid their lover, who was struggling to escape. “Somebody… shoot this thing!!!” Rally managed to croak out, trying to escape.

“Rally, we can’t get a clear shot at the ghoul!” Moria yelled, her Glock 22 in hand and trying to find an opening.

“Then… shoot through ME to get to this bastard!!”

‘Shoot through her? But my gun has blessed ammunition!’ Moria thought in horror. She took a few seconds struggling mentally, then she took aim, saying in a low voice, “Forgive me, Rally.” Reluctantly, she pulled the trigger, sending the blessed bullet through Rally and into the side of the ghoul, forcing the undead being to release the vampire, who quickly fell to the ground in obvious pain.

Now the ghoul’s attention was turned to the warm-bodied humans, immedietly charging at Sir Townstead. But oddly enough, before it reached its target – the creature found itself being restrained by Moria in a ‘test of strength’. Shocked, the chief inspector then raced towards the woman and began to try to have her release it, calling out, “MORIA, FOR GOD’S SAKE GET OUT OF THE WAY!!! LET ME HANDLE HIM!!!”

“JUST GET BACK, UNCLE REGGIE!!!” Moria yelled back, turning to face her adopted uncle.

Sir Townstead drew back, not because of the force of Moria’s words – but from what he saw of her! Moria’s eyes, normally a gentle emerald green, were now a bright bluish white – as well as the upper and lower canines appearing long and sharpened. “You stay away from my uncle, you monster!” Moria further snarled at the ghoul as she fought it hand-to-hand, her usually lovely voice coming out as an almost-ugly lupine snarl.

“MY GOD, MORIA LET ME HELP YOU!!!” Seras added, going behind the ghoul to try to pull it off. The Draculina gasped as she saw Moria’s transformed face, which looked almost murderous.

For the better part of thirty seconds, the two women fought the ghoul, but neither was gaining ground. Rally, slightly recovering from being shot, craned her head upwards and saw to her alarm that Moria was in the fight of her life. Almost immedietly, she tried to get up, but fell back to the ground in pain. Not giving up, the dusky vampire again tried, her strength sapped from the blessed round hitting her…

…Until a huge shot rang out, severing the ghoul’s head from its shoulders and dropping to the ground. Both Moria and Seras fell back from the shockwave, the brunette’s expression and eye color returning to normal. Surprised, everyone turned to the direction of the shot… and saw Alucard standing on a light standard, a smoking Jackal in his hands. “My forgiveness, ladies and gentlemen, but this fight was going nowhere, so I thought I would help,” the No-Life King replied in his rich baritone voice. Floating down from the standard, he gave Moria a hand. “You surprised me, Moria dear,” Alucard continued. “I never really thought one like you would be able to fight off a ghoul unarmed.”

“I… I did, didn't I?” she said. “Well, I guess one doesn’t really know what one is capable of until the stress hits you.” Then Moria remembered something. “OH MY GOD… RALLY!!!” She then raced over to where Rally had managed to pick herself up. “I’m sorry, Rally, are you alright?” she pleaded, almost in tears.

Rally managed to sit herself up, albeit painfully, and replied, “I… think so. Look, don’t blame yourself, Moria, I told you to shoot through me and you did. My thanks. But now…” she winced painfully as she added, “I think… I may need a little help from you to recover, if you’ll please?”

Realizing what Rally was implying, Moria nodded and said, “Yes… I understand, my lovely.” Quickly, she pulled aside the collar from her neck. Struggling, Rally managed to move close to her neck, where she plunged her fangs into it. Gasping slightly, all the maid could do is moan sensually as the dusky vampire fed from her.

As Rally fed on Moria, Seras quietly walked up to Alucard. “Master,” she said, “during the fight, I saw something on Moria I think Integra should know.”

“I saw it, too, Miss Victoria,” Sir Townstead, still eyeing Moria being fed upon by Rally. He then whispered to Alucard, “This is what we all feared about the girl.”

Alucard didn’t say anything at first, silently nodding. He then replied, “I would not panic if I were you, knight. Let us make our report to Sir Integra first, and then we can talk about it to her.” Sir Townstead nodded in agreement.

Meanwhile, Rally had finished with Moria, licking the bite wound to close it up. “Thanks, Moria,” she said, standing up. She then noticed the young maid standing up with an unusual vigor. “Are you sure you’re alright?” the dusky vampire asked. “I took at least a unit and a half of blood from you.”

“I’ll be fine, Rally… really,” Moria said, not showing the least bit dizziness from her experience.

“Up and about with no apparent ill-effects from being fed upon either,” Sir Townstead noted quietly, with both nosferatu and Draculina nodding. Deciding to change the subject, he said, “All the same, it’s best that I come with you girls when you make your report to Sir Integra. You don’t mind, do you Moria?”

“Don’t be silly, of course I don’t mind,” the brunette answered. “But… what about your investigation, Uncle Reggie?”

“I’ll have the lads conduct the evidence gathering around here,” Sir Townstead answered. “As for the driver, we’ll see if we can get the body to a state that it would be acceptable for the family to claim it, provided we find some identification.”

Rally looked at Seras. “I don’t see anything wrong with Sir Townstead coming with us,” she said. “What do you think, Master?”

“I have no problem,” the Draculina said, glancing over at Sir Townstead and Alucard. “Why don’t you take Moria to the car?”

“Sure thing,” Rally agreed, walking alongside Moria back to the Cobra,

As soon as Seras confirmed that Rally was out-of-earshot, she turned to Sir Townstead and asked, “What in the world are we going to tell Sir Integra, Master?”

“What else, Police Girl – the truth,” Alucard solemnly replied.

XXX

HELLSING MANOR, LATER THAT EVENING…

“‘Tuners’?” Sir Integra queried. Herself, Rally, Seras, Moria, Alucard and Sir Townstead were gathered in the Hellsing leader’s office, with Walter C. Dolnez nearby, serving tea along with Moria. “In my father’s time, those vehicles would simply be called ‘hot rods’. I did not think there would be a separate category for them.”

“Understandably correct, Sir Integra,” the old butler and former vampire slayer replied, handing a cup of tea to Sir Townstead. “Miss Vincent informed me about it. This class of ‘hot rod’ would entail utilizing inexpensive and easily-obtained Japanese or European cars, then modifying them extensively, either by exchanging or rebuilding their engines, application of ‘ground effects’ molding, upgrading the suspension and tires until they become a little more than standard equipment, both in appearance and speed.”

“But it’s not cheap, though,” Rally added. “I’ve seen a lot of these tuners with at least £5000 to £8000 worth of accessories – and that usually includes extras that are not ‘performance grade’ mechanicals – but stuff like trim lighting, expensive sound systems, custom paint and rims. And usually the owners of these cars are not satisfied with all that they put into them, and often go to great lengths to build, at least to them, the ultimate car.”

“Which may include outright thievery to obtain the money they need to do this,” Sir Integra mused. She then looked at a copy of The Times on her desk, “And even if they use legitimate means to obtain the funding for the custom work, some of them often use their machines for illegitimate ‘thrill seeking’. This is the latest news concerning a local car club, the “Royal Rockets” they call themselves. It seems they have a penchant of racing their vehicles around the public roads, wreaking havoc in their wake.” She looked at Sir Townstead and added, “Have you made an identification of the ghoul driving the car and is does he have any to these ruffians?”

“We have indeed.” Sir Townstead then produced a driver’s license from his pocket. “Stanley Hardwicke was his name – or ‘Suicide Stan’ as he was known among the ranks of the Royal Rockets, for his habits of ‘risk-taking’ in his exhibitions. Odd thing, though – that, although he was a member of the club, he usually shied away from their street shenanigans and concentrated more on legitimate events.” He then scratched his chin as he added, “Come to think of it, there is one such event scheduled to take place outside London one week from now. Hardwicke was listed as one of the favorites, particularly in the ‘drifting’ category.”

Sir Integra mused over these pieces of evidence. “It somehow makes sense, that someone within the membership of the Royal Rockets may be a FREAK, and may be feasting on either his fellows or other members of this community of motor enthusiasts. Our only problem is finding a way of infiltrating this group in order to flush-out this monster and eliminating it.”

“The one problem that I see, my master, is that we may have a problem accomplishing just that,” Alucard said. “If, from what I’ve heard from both you, Sir Townstead and Rally Vincent is true, then these particular humans would be a closely-knit group, and would be very suspicious of anyone outside their little circle of hooligans walking amongst them.”

“Wait a minute, Master,” Seras added, “what about Berttle?”

“You mean the Wild Geese member in charge of the motor pool, Seras?” Sir Integra inquired. “What about him?”

“Well… if I recall correctly, he’s been working on a similar car of his own,” the Draculina said. “He’s kept his involvement with the Hellsing Organization secret, saying he’s working for a private security firm. He has a Honda Civic similar to this Hardwicke fellow. He might be the one we can go to!”

“That’s right, Master!” Rally added. “I even helped him out with some of the wrench-turning and the heavy work. So far, he’s got just a little more work on it – he wasn’t satisfied with the engine the thing originally had – said it lacked the horsepower he was seeking, and it also needs a rear wing to make it complete.” Then inspiration hit the dusky vampire. “Sir Townstead, is there any way we can salvage some of the parts from that wrecked car?”

“Now that you’ve mentioned it,” the chief inspector put-in, “that car had a very good engine in it, not to mention the rear wing was reasonably undamaged. The investigation team should be finished gathering evidence from the car, so I don’t think it would hurt if we can part-out the thing, in quiet, of course.”

“I cannot wait to see the results of the work,” Sir Integra said, then turned to Moria and added, “And speaking of work, I suggest you cut-short your workload for tonight and get some rest.”

“But Sir Integra,” the maid protested, “I’m feeling alright! I see no reason to stop early!”

“You gave Rally a considerable quantity of your blood to allow her to recover from being shot with your bullet,” the Hellsing leader countered, “which gives me cause to worry about your health.”

“But…” Moria sputtered.

“Forget it, Moria,” Rally chuckled, patting her shoulder. “Whenever Integra has an idea, she won’t give up on it, no matter what.”

“And you, Rally,” Sir Integra added, smiling, “I suggest you join her in resting.”

“W-WHAT!?! YOU’RE KIDDING!?!” Rally gasped.

Still smiling, Sir Integra continued, “You were struck with a blessed bullet from Moria’s gun, my friend, which is my cause for YOUR concern!”

Rally just slunk her shoulders and groaned, “Alright, alright, I get it! I’ll take the rest of the night off! Geez, even as a vampire, I never get a break!”

‘Well I wouldn’t worry too much about it, my lovely,’ Moria told Rally telepathically. ‘At least we have a little extra time together tonight, if you follow my meaning.’

Rally just smiled. ‘I think I understand.’

‘Alright you two, I know what you’re thinking about,’ Seras smirked to Rally. ‘Just because I cannot hear what you two are talking about doesn’t mean I know what you’re planning. I can tell just from your body language.’ She then smiled further and added, ‘Go ahead. I’ll join you two later. There’s a little… something I have to take care of over here first.’

‘Gotcha, Master,’ a relieved Rally replied.

Moria looked confused. “What was that all about?” she asked aloud.

“I’ll explain later, let’s just get going.” Rally then took the maid’s hand as they left the office.

Sir Townstead happened to watch the two, and as they left said, “Somehow, I have the funny feeling those girls have something else in mind besides resting.”

“I’ll have to agree with you, Chief Inspector,” Seras said, with Alucard grinning in agreement. Then both vampires’ expressions became serious as the Draculina said, “Sir Integra, something happened during the investigation at the crash site I think you should be told of.”

“Does this involve the incident where Moria fought off the ghoul?” Sir Integra asked. “I have to admit, that is very unusual. Very well, you, Alucard and Sir Townstead relate what you have saw.”

“Yeah,” Seras sighed unenthusiastically. She was wondering how she was going to take it.

XXX

At the same time, Rally and Moria had made it to the landing on the ground floor, and was about to go to the sub-basement level when something caught the dusky vampire by the corner of her eye. Turning, she found Alfie Henderson, newly-dressed in a Hellsing uniform, and Pip Bernadotte, the leader of the Wild Geese, walking towards them. Immedietly, though, Alfie saw the blood stains on Rally’s right side. “Geez, what happened?” he said, alarmed.

“Oh nothing, Alfie,” Rally began. “We happened to run into a ghoul at that accident scene earlier and I told Moria to shoot through me to stop him. Would’ve been nothing… but Moria’s gun just happened to have blessed bullets in it. Nothing that would’ve killed me, though, but it did hurt.” Rally then noticed Alfie’s uniform and whistled approvingly. “Boy, you look sharp there, Alfie. How did orientation go, by the way?”

“Oh, it was alright… except the captain here,” he replied, thumbing at Pip, “got on all of us hard over Vic’s mischief. Guess being chewed-out publicly by the boss got to him.”

“Nice of you to tell her,” Pip growled. “Now I suggest you get yourself to ze firing range, alright?”

“Er… alright, Captain,” Alfie squeaked, saluting then making a mad scramble to the Hellsing’s indoor shooting range.

But after he had left, Pip motioned Rally closer. “Eef I was you,” he began, “I would geev Vic a little breathing room for ze next few days. After what… Alfie mentioned, I made a discreet look at Vic’s resume.” He then shuttered and added, “From what I saw… and what I’ve heard from ze rest of ze new men, he was involved in somewhat shady workings in many of his hirings… which, I may add, may have involved some unwarranted killings of civilians in some hot spots.”

“You’re kidding, Pip?” Rally gasped, shocked.

“But then why did you hire him with all those red-flags on his record?” Moria added.

Pip just shrugged. “I only learned of zeze in ze last hour. Look, eef zat guy ever deed anything zat would compromise ze integrity of ze Hellsing Organization, I would personally ask Sir Hellsing to convene a firing squad on him immedietly!”

“Let’s just hope it doesn’t get to that part, Pip,” Rally replied.

“Oui, mon capitan,” Moria added in French, then descended the steps along with Rally. “Au Revoure.”

Somewhat subdued, the two descended the stairs to their quarters. However, as soon as they were down, Moria suddenly yelped in surprise – Rally had snuck-up behind her and was now groping her breasts. “My word!” the maid gasped as the dusky vampire began to massage her hands. She then giggled, “Rally, you are so naughty! Can’t you even wait until we are inside?”

“I’m sorry, Moria,” Rally said, drawing closer to Moria’s ear, “but I just wanted to get you in the mood, that’s all.”

“Well at least wait until the door’s closed,” laughed Moria. “After all, I hate to think what would happen if you started undressing me out here in the corridor!”

“Yeah, that would give Alucard a cheap thrill.” Rally then released Moria, then picked her up and carried her. “Remember,” she said, as she opened the door, “you did give me some of your blood tonight. Don’t want you passing out before we get to bed.”

“Quite right,” the maid replied, lightly kissing Rally as they entered their room. “I hope you have something special for me when my birthday comes up in seven days.”

“Really? How old will you be then?” Rally asked.

“Twenty.”

A thoughtful look came over Rally’s face as she set Moira down and began to undress her. “I guess I’ll have to look through your underwear drawers to see what gift ideas I can come up with.”

“Just don’t tell me what you’re buying, that’s all I ask,” Moria giggled as she started undressing Rally in turn.

XXX

“YOU HAVE GOT TO BE JESTING!?!?” Sir Integra gasped in shock as she leaned forward on her desk.

“Believe me, Integra, this is no joke,” Sir Townstead countered. “Moria has this absolutly murderous look on her face when she fought the ghoul, which made her altered features and voice even more frightening.”

“I have to confirm what the Chief Inspector and Seras saw,” Alucard added. “Moria Hedgley’s new abilities could be the sign we were told to watch out for.”

Seras paused for a minute. “Come to think of it,” she said, “there was another instance where I saw evidence of Moria’s fangs, but didn’t think much of it at the time.”

“When was that?” Sir Integra asked.

For her credit, Seras blushed before answering, “Well… I’m rather embarrassed to tell you this… but… myself, as well as she and Rally were intimate at the time… and believe me, I thought it was a play of light… but…”

“Say no more, I see what you mean,” Sir Integra interrupted, also blushing. “Well, I guess I should contemplate what to do next. Walter, please show Sir Townstead out, if you don’t mind.”

“Very well, ma’am,” Walter replied, bowing. He then escorted the Chief Inspector from the office, closing both doors as he did. Seras also excused herself, which the Hellsing leader did.

However, for the better part of a minute after they left, Sir Integra just sat in her chair, alone in her thoughts. Alucard, for his part, kept quiet, not wishing to disturb his master. Then the Hellsing leader rose from her chair and walked over to one of the wall panels. Touching a secret switch, the panel slid back, revealing a safe with a keypad instead of a combination dial. Punching in her code, the safe opened, inside were various documents and relics that were hidden from Iscariot. But Sir Integra reached for one particular document – a plain sealed envelope, with the phrase ‘for Moria’ handwritten in front.

Alucard casually strolled to the safe, noticing the envelope and recognizing it. “You still have it, even after all the chaos Incognito had caused this organization?”

“How could I not safeguard it, Alucard?” Sir Integra sadly replied. “For the better part of three years, I had prayed that I would never have to present this to Moria… knowing what harm it would cause. But now… it seems to be all in vain.” Her thoughts went back to that night…

FLASHBACK, THREE YEARS PRIOR…

The mansion had been repaired, following the massive assault on it by the Valentine Brothers… and it was a week after the incident in the London Underground involving Paladin Anderson. However, Sir Integra couldn’t dwell upon the past. She was now going over various resumes, hoping to rebuild the organization’s ranks, which were not depleted.

A knock on the door, however, distracted her from her work. “Yes?” she asked, looking up from her paperwork. Then a great smile came over her face. “Commander Farguson, it is good to see you again!”

Smiling, Peter Farguson, supreme ground commander of the Hellsing Organization, walked inside, his bald head still bandaged. “Nice to see you as well, ma’am,” he replied, saluting. “To be honest, though, I’m glad for any excuse to get out of the house. With all the attention Moria has been lavishing upon me, I was more than a little concerned she might accidentally kill me with kindness.”

“Moria? Oh, your granddaughter!” Sir Integra leaned back into her chair and added, “So how has she been doing these days. Has she recovered from the accident that had killed her mother?”

“Quite so,” the old soldier said. “Funny thing, though. That wreck was very brutal, yet she came through it with barely a scratch. In fact, she just turned seventeen just last week.” A glum look came over Farguson’s face as he added, “Sad thing about my daughter, though. Poor girl never had a chance.”

“Yes. She was a good woman and she will sorely be missed.” Sir Integra then changed the subject. “So, what brings you here, Commander?”

“This, for one,” Farguson said, producing a sheet of paper. “Been to see Dr. Trevelyan yesterday. He’s cleared me for light duty; no combat until this damned head injury completely heals. However, that doesn’t mean I can begin training the replacements. Like to bring in Miss Victoria as well.”

“Very well, you have my clearance to do so.” Then Sir Integra noticed a certain… pensiveness in Farguson’s stance. “Anything else I should know?” she asked. “I have noticed a bit of unease in you.”

Pausing, Farguson sighed heavily as he said, “It’s concerning Moria, Sir Integra… and in a way, Moria’s father Kenneth. For the last few days after my daughter’s funeral, the whole thing has been weighing heavily on my mind, not sure how to approach it.”

“Approach what?” asked Sir Integra curiously.

“Before I do, I want to make a few things clear first,” Farguson replied. “Kenneth Hedgley is a fine man, stout-hearted and loyal to the crown. For the better part of his life, he has dedicated himself to using his abilities to the protection of the citizens, the church and the Crown.”

“Abilities?” Now Sir Integra’s curiosity was piqued. “What abilities are you talking about?”

Deciding not to beat around the bush anymore, Farguson squared his shoulders and answered, “I’m talking about lycanthropy, ma’am.”

Sir Integra’s eyes went wide. “Lycanthropy?” she gasped, shocked. “Are you saying that Kenneth Hedgley, Moria’s father… is a werewolf?”

“Quite so,” Farguson replied. “To be honest, I didn’t believe the whole thing at first… that is, until I saw his transformation with my very eyes. Now don’t worry, ma’am, from what I’ve learned from Kenneth, and later Alucard, that members of Kenneth’s clan has a certain… control over their transformations, even to the ability to change at will.”

“Alucard knows about Kenneth? I generally thought that lycans and midans were natural enemies,” mused Sir Integra.

“Quite true. However, because of their innate nobility, Kenneth’s clan has won the trust of the house of Dracul,” Farguson explained. “You can ask Alucard about this to confirm, if you like.”

“That I will.” Sir Integra then got up from her desk and faced her commander. “So, what you are saying is that, there is some concern that your granddaughter may have inherited her father’s curse, am I right?”

“Correct, but hopefully it may not be,” Farguson said. “Kenneth told me that females in his clan don’t usually become werewolves, but there have been some rare instances in the family’s history where certain women had become werewolves. So he’s asked me if I could keep an eye on Moria for the next few years.”

“I see,” Sir Integra said. “When will we be able to see any signs that she had indeed inherited the curse?”

“Around the week of Moria’s twentieth birthday,” the old soldier replied. “There will be small transformations at first, but at least a week before the first full moon will it take hold.”

Sir Integra nodded. “I know this is a delicate matter… but how in the world will we be able to break the news about this to her?” she asked.

“If I might,” Farguson said, “I believe that family should be the one to explain it in the absence of her father. But the latest incident we suffered got me to thinking about an alternative neither myself or Kenneth is around to tell her.” He then produced an envelope, with the words ‘to Moria’ written on it. “I wrote this letter last night, explaining everything. If Kenneth or myself have met our maker… well, I would like you to give this to her.”

Gingerly, Sir Integra excepted the letter. “I will place this in a safe place, Commander. However, I hope and I pray that we may not have to do this.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Farguson sighed. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’d best find Miss Victoria and go over the details of the troop replacement.”

“Very well Commander, you are excused.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Farguson replied crisply, saluting as he did. After he left the room, Sir Integra walked over to her hidden wall safe, opened it, and tenderly placed the letter inside. After the door is closed, she made a silent prayer… mostly for Moria’s possible salvation.

END FLASHBACK

Now Sir Integra fingered the envelope as once again sat behind her desk. “She doesn’t deserve this, Alucard,” she sadly said. “I wish there was some delicate way of breaking the news that…” she wiped away a tear from her eye, “… that she is becoming a werewolf.”

The No-Life King looked upon his master, not with his usual cockiness, but with sympathy. “So do I,” he said. “But unfortunately, we do not have that luxury. No matter how much we try to ‘guild the lily’ about this… it will be a horrible shock to her.”

“I had a feeling you would say that,” Sir Integra sighed.

TO BE CONTINUED…

9/11/01
FDNY-NYPD-THE REAL HEROES