Black Lagoon Fan Fiction / Hellsing Fan Fiction / Gunsmith Cats Fan Fiction ❯ Night Angels ❯ London Drift, Pt. 6 ( Chapter 27 )

XXX

TWO DAYS LATER…

A group gathered at a deserted WWII airstrip at dusk. This gathering, certain members of the Hellsing Organization, watched as Berttle, the Australian member of the Wild Geese, had put his modified Honda Civic to its paces.

All the while, the group – which consisted of Sir Integra Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing, Walter C. Dolnez, Irene “Rally” Vincent, Seras Victoria, Moria Hedgley and Pip Bernadotte – watched as Berttle accelerated the Civic around a turn, causing a great deal of smoke to billow from the front tires. Many of the group waved away the smoke when it hit them, with Walter coughing openly from the acrid smoke. “My word!” the old butler managed to gasp. “Whatever Mr. Berttle is doing, he is going to ruin those tires if he keeps that up!”

“That might be your opinion, Walter,” Rally cheerfully said, “but to me, that’s the sweet smell of success!”

“Whatever you say, Miss Vincent,” Walter sighed. “Sir Integra, I am beginning to have serious doubts about the mission, seeing Mr. Berttle’s antics.”

“Old friend, I believe that is just the opinions from your generation,” the Hellsing leader said with a smile as Berttle skidded around a turn, again billowing smoke. “I believe that this maneuver is, what Rally refers to as ‘drifting’.”

“If you say so, Sir Integra. If you say so,” Walter muttered.

“Oh don’t be such a wet blanket, Walter,” the Draculina added cheerfully. “I believe this is exciting!”

“Same here, Master,” Rally added. But then she began to look around just as Berttle brought the car back. “That’s strange,” she mused. “I could’ve sworn that Bean was next to me. Where the hell did he go?”

The answer was quick in coming. All of a sudden, a loud roar came from behind the group. Everyone turned – only to see the Buff fly over everybody’s heads. After ducking for a few seconds, the crowd then saw the orange-red car negotiate the same course Berttle had done – with a few noted exceptions.

There was a small half-ramp that was set-up on the makeshift course. The Buff’s right side hit the ramp, then did a two-wheel stand for five seconds before slamming to the ground. Then taking advantage of a collapsed concrete wall near the taxiway, the car used it as an angled ramp and performed a perfect corkscrew leap, then raced back to the group, skidding near a gap between Berttle’s car and a troop transport – enough to fit the Buff but impossible to parallel park. All four wheels of the car then turned at right angles to the car and drove sideways into the gap before the engine died.

The group witnessing this spectacle – with the exception of Walter, Rally, and Sir Integra – stood slack-jawed in shock; Walter just stood silently while Sir Integra politely applauded. Then the occupants of the car exited, Bean Bandit and Kenneth Hedgley. “Fantastic!” the brown-haired man exclaimed. “That was a superb exhibition of motor car handling!”

“I’m glad you liked it,” the courier replied. “Of course, I never had someone pay me for riding next to me while I was driving… unless they were cargo, that is.”

“I can’t believe you, Father!” Moria huffed, dressed in her maid’s uniform as she charged in front of her father. “You, of all people, behaving like some teenager!”

“Moria dear,” Kenneth began, holding up his hands defensively, “I am hardly a teenager, you should know that. Besides, I believe there is a saying, ‘You are only young once’. I simply paid Bean here for the petrol in return for the privilege of ‘riding shotgun’ with him.”

Moria just sighed discouragily, still wondering about her father’s apparent lack of maturity. Rally, however, draped her arms around her shoulders and said, “Hey chill-out, Moria. I’ve ridden onboard the Buff many times. If there’s one thing I know, Bean knows how to handle himself behind the wheel.”

Berttle, in the meantime, walked-up to Bean and shook his hand. “All I can say is,” he began, “it looks like I’ve got my work cut-out for me! I’m going to have to work hard if I’m going to beat you!”

“That I can agree upon,” the Hellsing leader said, walking up to the two. “However, regardless on the outcome of the show, we must not lose sight on the true reason of this – namely flushing-out the FREAK responsible for the wreck on the M-5.”

“You’ve got that right, Sir Integra,” Bean agreed. “Berttle, we may be rivals in the car show, but we better keep an eye on the prize - on whoever caused that wreck!”

“Totally bonzer, mate,” the Australian replied. “I suggest we pack-up and get ready for the show.”

“Very good,” Sir Integra said. “We need to keep all equipment at the ready, should the opportunity presents itself.” Berttle and Bean then maneuvered a flatbed truck into position, then had the Civic placed on the bed for transport back to the mansion.

During this activity, Rally and Seras managed to walk up to Moria, who was watching them. “So,” the dusky vampire began, “how’s your arm, Moria?”

The maid did a cursory examination of her previously injured arm, flexing it, and replied, “I believe it’s all healed. I checked the bandages before we set-out and found the wound gone – not even a scar. Even the pain is gone.”

“Well thank goodness for that,” Seras added as the three headed for Rally’s Cobra. “After that little dust-up you had with that idiot Vic yesterday, both me and Rally were concerned that it might have re-opened it.”

“No doubt,” Moria said. “I must admit, even after I told him I was a lesbian, he still insists on trying to seduce me.”

“The same as Pip with Master, I guess,” Rally mused.

“I don’t really know,” Moria added uneasily. “Captain Bernadotte may still try with Seras, but at least he knows how to keep his distance. This Vic fellow however… frightens me, considering what I’ve heard from him, the atrocities and all…”

FLASHBACK, YESTERDAY…

It was barely a day since the attack on Arisugawa’s Locket that Moria was back dusting around the portraits of the mansion. Every once in a while, though, if she extended her arm too much, she would wince slightly, her upper right arm wounded during the attack. Moria hissed in pain slightly at one of these. “Bloody hell,” she muttered to herself, rubbing her arm. “How do I get myself into these messes?”

“Well how you doing, beautiful?” a voice crowed behind her. Cringing, Moria turned around… and saw Vic behind her. “Nice night we’re having, aren’t we?”

Moria gave this intruder a hostile look before continuing with her dusting. “If you don’t mind,” she huffed, “I have a lot of things to do here, so would you mind pushing off? I’m busy!” All of a sudden, she felt an arm grasping her waist. Instinctively, Moria reached around to flip Vic over her shoulder, only to gasp in pain when her injured arm was roughly grabbed. “OWWWWW!!!”

“I was prepared for you this time, cutie,” Vic smirked, using his left arm to fondle her right breast. “C’mon, let’s be honest, the only reason you don’t date men is because that vampire bitch Rally has got you under her thumb, isn’t that right?”

“No it isn’t!” Moria protested, struggling to break free. “Please let go of my arm! You’re hurting it!”

“Oh I think you like the pain,” Vic added, nuzzling her neck.

“NO I DON’T!!!” Moria pleaded. “PLEASE, LET ME GO!!!”

“LET HER GO, ASSHOLE!!!”

Quickly, Vic released Moria, who had fled towards Rally, standing behind them both. Shaking, the mercenary could clearly see the dusky vampire was extremely angry, her orange-red eyes glowing brightly. Deciding not to risk a confrontation, he made his way out.

Satisfied Vic was gone, Rally turned her attention to Moria, who was tightly embracing her. “You okay?” she asked, checking her arm.

“I… I think so,” Moria sighed. “I should have known he would be able to counter my move!”

“Yeah, but all the same, we better have Walter check that arm, just in case that asshole reopened that wound!” Rally then gently escorted Moria out, but happened to glance over to Vic, who was in another corridor. She caught the hateful glare he was casting at her.

Rally thought nothing of it.

PRESENT DAY…

“You don’t seem too concerned about him, Rally,” Seras remarked.

“Hey, if he doesn’t like vampires, there’s nothing I can do about it,” Rally shrugged. “But he’s going to have to work with them, so if I were him, I’d best modify my attitude if I want to live here.”

“Good luck to him,” Moria said.

XXX

“There,” Vic sighed, using a block plane to refine the point of the white oak stakes he was working on for the past two days. He was lucky to stumble upon the gunshop that Rally and Walter worked at, and was surprised at the number of woodworking tools that were there. He then later summized that they were for the making of custom handles and shoulder stocks, so it was no trouble to borrow them for his task – just as long as he replaced them where he got them.

He had used the block plane to finish the tips of the stakes, as well as chamfering the grips for comfort. Completing his task, he took care to make sure to leave as little evidence of his visit, but did take notice of the wood shavings on the floor.

“What the hell,” Vic dismissed. “It’s not like it wasn’t expected, after all,” as he left.

XXX

A COUPLE OF HOURS LATER…

“Say Seras,” Moria asked as she was dusting around the parlor, “I was wondering if you’ve seen Rally? She’s disappeared after we got back to the mansion.”

“I wouldn’t worry too much, dear,” the Draculina replied, “I noticed it too and asked Sir Integra about it. Seems that she and Bean had gone out to The Brown Grouse for a few hours.”

“Really? I wonder what for?” the maid queried.

“Well I would gather that the two wanted to catch-up on how each other’s lives had changed the last time they saw each other,” Seras mused. “They are old friends, after all. It’s not like they have something romantic on the side.”

“Well that might be the case for them,” Moria then looked at Seras seductively, “but that doesn’t mean we can’t. I’ll be finishing up soon, so if you’re not doing anything tonight I believe we can have a little fun together.”

“What a naughty girl you are,” the Draculina chuckled, embracing Moria. “Remind me of that on your birthday. I believe me and Rally may have a few things in mind then.” Moria just smiled as she kissed Seras’ cheek, then peacefully returned to her chores as the blonde vampire departed.

That peace didn’t last long, though. “Mind if I have a talk to you?” Vic’s voice asked from behind.

Immedietly dropping her duster, Moria spun around and crouched into a defensive position. “Just stay where you are!” she warned. “Mind you, if you so much as make so much as a wrong move in my direction, I will plant my right foot so hard and so deep in your crotch you’ll be walking around stooped-over for a week!”

“Now calm down, willya?” Vic said, holding up his hands. “I… just want to say that I’m sorry about yesterday, that’s all!” He felt a bit of relief to see Moria relax her stance. “Like I said, I’m sorry about yesterday. I talked to the others and found out about your injury.”

“Well, I’m grateful about your approach, and I gladly accept your apology.” Moria then picked up her duster and added, “Now if you’ll excuse me, I still got plenty to do tonight.”

“Well… I was going to ask you if you’re willing to go out with me to the Brown Grouse tonight. So, are you interested?” Vic ventured, hoping for a favorable response.

He was to be disappointed. “That was very nice of you, but I told you the first time around, I am not interested in men, either romantically or sexually,” Moria said kindly. “And besides, I already have two girlfriends of my own.”

“You mean those vampires?” Vic snarled.

“I don’t like the tone of that response!” Moria countered, her words having a hard edge to them.

“I’m only concerned about your well-being, that’s all!” Vic had to choose his words carefully, least he receive Moria’s promised punishment. “You can’t trust vampires, they’re tricky. Listen, I’ve done a lot of the reading the boss told us to do and I’ve learned they have a lot of underhanded methods they use to snare their prey!”

“Rally and Seras would NEVER use anything like that on me!” gasped Moria, aghast at Vic’s insinuations.

“Listen, you’ve got to watch your back around them! They may be all smiling and such, but they’re only looking after themselves!” Vic added, his face a mask of concern.

“I believe Moria has told you the truth, my good man!” Kenneth’s voice boomed out from behind Vic. Turning around, the mercenary saw the brown-haired man behind him, clearly angry. “Now if you have anything else to say, I suggest you leave my daughter alone!”

Sighing, Vic shrugged and left… but not before adding, “I was telling you the truth, y’know! You can’t trust vampires!” He then stormed off, leaving father and daughter to wonder.

A throaty, baritone chuckle disturbed the two. Turning to the walnut-paneled wall, the form of Alucard strolled towards him. “I must admit,” he began, “he has some brass… for a human, that is.” The No-Life King then looked to Moria and said, “I wonder what would he think of you if you transformed right in front of him.”

“I was half-tempted to do just that,” the maid/werewolf began, “only my concern on how Sir Integra would react of my causing one of her army a heart attack stopped me from doing so. Now if you two will excuse me, I’m well behind schedule in my cleaning.” She then continued her dusting.

“Don’t let us stop you, Moria dear,” Kenneth replied, motioning for Alucard to proceed ahead. “I need to talk to our friend for a bit.” The two then exited the parlor, and as soon as Kenneth knew they were out of earshot, he added in a low voice, “I don’t like that Vic person, Vlad. Call it four hundred years of experience but something about him unsettles me.”

Alucard nodded. “He may act like he knows what he talks about, but I wonder how he would react if confronted with a genuinely-dangerous being, like either me, yourself, Rally and Seras… or your daughter.”

Kenneth looked at the red-clad vampire. “You DO have confidence in Moria, Vlad,” he remarked.

“Of course, Kenneth,” Alucard said. “She just needs the opportunity to show it.”

Kenneth then paused outside, looking into the darkness. “Hopefully, it won’t be TOO deadly, considering it happens on her birthday tomorrow… the first full moon of the month,” he said.

THE BROWN GROUSE PUBLIC HOUSE, NEARBY…

It was a quaint pub a few kilometers away from the Hellsing mansion. Many of the Wild Geese often frequented this place, mostly because of the quality ales and good food served here. And it was here that Rally and Bean had shared a table together, catching up on old times. “So enough of me,” Rally said, setting down her glass of ale, “how have you been? You still giving Lt. Percy fits?”

It was all the courier could do not to be too amazed at his friend. Bean was fascinated that Rally could quickly adapt herself to fit inside a human environment – even allowing herself to be reflected on the few mirrors that were there, not to mention drinking ale. “Well I had, at least up until last month,” he said.

“Really?” the dusky vampire said, her eyes – which were disguised in their human blue color – widening. “Did he die?”

“No,” Bean dismissed. “Let’s just say that, due to circumstances around him, he had to take a… medical retirement.”

Rally caught on, smiling slyly. “Oh,” she said. “You gave him ulcers?”

“Ulcers, high blood pressure, migraines, you name it! He was buying antacids and aspirins by the caseful before he gave his 30-day notice!” the courier laughed. “The last time I saw him, he was the same as always, cursing and screaming my nickname – until the pain in his gut caused him to stop!”

Both human and vampire laughed, reminiscing on the old days when Rally used to work for Bean. Of course, Rally stopped when a familiar voice came from behind her and said, “Why ‘allo there, Rally! Never thought you would be in zese pub.”

Rally’s face betrayed a sour look as she answered, “Hi there, Pip! Just what the hell are you doing here anyway? I thought you had target practice with the Wild Geese to supervise.”

“I did,” Pip Bernadotte replied, settling down at the table with Rally and Bean. “Ze men finished with high marks, zo Sir Integra allowed zem some free time.” He thumbed over to another couple tables, were several Wild Geese were talking shop over pints of ale. But then taking a somber note, he added, “And besides, eet provides an opportunity to get a handle on our leetle problem, non?”

Pip discreetly pointed to a gathering of seven individuals seated at several tables, their leather jackets sporting the decals ‘Royal Rockets’ on them. “From what I hear from ze other patrons, zat group eez a regular at zeze pub. Usually zey’re well-behaved but at times zey can be a little rowdy.”

“Looks like they’re more behaved tonight,” Rally observed. “And from the looks of it… they seem to be holding a wake.”

“Oui,” Pip added. “I suggest we listen on.” Rally nodded, training her vampiric ears on the group.

It was then that one of the Rockets, obviously the leader, stood and raised his glass. “For ‘Suicide Stan’, the best of us. May he give the man upstairs fits from his driving.”

“For Stan,” the rest chorused, raising their glasses, then downing the contents. Afterwhich, the group then discussed their best memories about their departed member.

Bean leaned over to Rally. “‘Suicide Stan’?” he whispered.

“Stanley Hardwicke. He was the ghoul we ran into on the M-5,” Rally explained in a low voice. “We believe one of the Rockets over there is the FREAK that changed him.” All of a sudden, Rally stiffened, her senses going into overdrive. “And I believe he’s in this pub right now.”

“You can sense… whoever that is?” Bean asked, surprised.

“A FREAK, an artificial vampire, mon ami,” Pip explained, whispering. “We found out early on zat Rally had some… sixth sense about whenever a FREAK eez nearby.” He then moved over to Rally and asked, “Can you find out who eet eez?”

Rally shook her head. “There’s too many humans in this pub. I’m having trouble filtering them out.” Looking over to Pip, she added, “Whenever you can find your way out of here, contact Sir Integra and tell her that I plan to track where this fake vampire is living. That way, we can better plan-out how to confront him without any witnesses.”

“Are you sure this is a good idea, Rally?” Bean asked again.

“Got any better ideas, Bean?”

“Not right now… but I am a little uneasy about the whole thing.”

For the next hour, the Royal Rockets continued to drink, as well as sharing their best remembrances of their departed member, with Rally, Pip and Bean watching on. When it did break up, Rally once again scanned the departing members, trying to pick-out the FREAK amongst them – and nailed it! “There he is!” she whispered, pointing out a rather lanky man, with greasy black hair and a pierced lip. “I’ll follow him, taking care not to get too close. Pip, you know what to do.” The mercenary nodded.

“Good luck, Rally,” Bean added, “just be careful about it.”

“Don’t worry, I will.” The dusky vampire waited a few seconds, then got up and walked outside. Sure enough, the FREAK was walking home, unaware he attracted her attention. Squaring up her shoulders, Rally began her track.

XXX

Now about the same time, Vic, still sore about being stood-up by Moria, walked alone towards the Brown Grouse. Slung over his back was a nylon bag, where he kept his stakes; he didn’t trust leaving them undetected at the mansion. “Damn that bitch,” he grumbled. “Naw, I shouldn’t blame her – it’s that vampire Rally that’s got her all mixed-up! She’s scrambled her mind so that she’ll forget men! First chance I get, I’m going to get rid that dyke vampire bitch once and for all! Then maybe that maid might go out with me.” He then paused for a bit, “But how in the hell will I be able to set her up so that I can get her with the stakes?”

He was so busy with his thoughts, he hardly noticed the greasy-haired man pass him by – but he almost ran smack into Rally. “What the fuck are you doing here?” she snapped, annoyed by her surveillance nearly ruined. Before Vic could answered, Rally said, “Oh nevermind, why don’t you, for once make yourself useful?”

“What are you…” he began, but Vic found himself with a hand over his mouth, and Rally pushing him behind the corner.

“Oh good,” Rally hissed in a low voice, “he didn’t see us.” Slowly removing her hand from Vic’s mouth, she continued with, “I’m trailing that FREAK from the pub to where he lives. If you’ll back me up, I might forget what you tried to do to Moria.”

“Huh?” Vic could hardly believe his luck. “Uh… yeah, I’ll help.” Hoisting up his bag, he followed her, making sure his gun was drawn. ‘I can scarcely believe my luck!’ he thought to himself. ‘Once I get her out in the open, I can get her with one of my stakes! I just hope I survive if I mess-up though.’

Outside the pub, Bean and Pip began to make their way back to the mansion. Along the way, Bean happened to notice Rally talking to Vic, then the two moved in the direction of the FREAK’s departure. The courier frowned, not trusting the coincidence of the whole thing, but deciding not to bring it up as of yet.

SIR INTEGRA’S OFFICE…

The Hellsing leader found herself entertaining several unexpected guests, the subject of the matter blatantly obvious. Kenneth and Sir Reginald Townstead were seated near her desk, along with Sir Hugh Islands, Sir Shelby Penwood, and Sir Cedric Kensington, although this was not a formal meeting of the Round Table. “It was very fortunate you were able to accommodate this rather sudden meeting we have arranged, Sir Integra,” Sir Islands began.

“It was no trouble whatsoever,” Sir Integra replied, “but if Mr. Hedgley is present as well, I assume this has something to do with his daughter, am I right?”

Sir Islands nodded, rather uncomfortably though. “That is correct. You do realize that tomorrow night will be Miss Hedgley’s twentieth birthday, which coincidentally happens to be the first night of this month’s full moon.”

“Sir Islands,” Kenneth put-in, rather indignantly, “if you have any concerns about Moria, I’ll have you know that I have been training her in how to handle her transformations. What I like to know is what are the Round Table’s concerns about her.”

“Kenneth, calm down,” Sir Townstead said, then turned his attention to the elderly knight. “Hugh, I share my friend’s concerns. What exactly are you implying.”

“You are aware that,” Sir Islands delicately began, “during the nights of the full moon, a werewolf – especially an inexperienced one – has little or no control regarding his or her transformations. Mr. Hedgley, have you made this instance known to your daughter, in light of what may happen tomorrow?”

Kenneth was taken aback, finally noticing an error in his judgment. “Oh dear god,” he whispered. “I have been so concerned about helping Moria get through the idea about her identity – that I’ve neglected to mention that part!” He collapsed in his chair, his hands covering his face. “I’ve set my daughter up for a nightmare she may not be ready for!” he moaned.

The knights looked sympathetically at Kenneth, taking in his anguish. “You know, friends,” Sir Kensington added, “we should take into account Sir Integra’s assessment on Miss Hedgley’s character.” Looking at Sir Integra, he added, “After, she is also the granddaughter to your late commander Peter Farguson. Surely some of his influence may have rubbed-off upon the girl.”

“That is something to consider, Cedric,” the Hellsing leader remarked. “I would not despair too much, Mr. Hedgley. I have seen first-hand her resilience under pressure, so I would believe she can face this new challenge somewhat undaunted.”

“I hope so, Sir Integra,” Kenneth sighed, leaning back on his chair.

It was at that point a knock came upon the door. “Come,” Sir Integra called out.

The door opened. “Sir Integra,” Walter began, walking into the office, “I believe we may have a serious situation on our hands.”

“Could this wait until later?” Sir Islands said.

“I wish I could, Sir Islands. Sir Integra,” the butler said, “One of the Wild Geese fancied a custom handgrip for his gun and had asked me if I could fashion it for him. I know this seems to be a trite introduction, but please hear me out.”

“Go on, Walter,” Sir Integra replied, intrigued.

“Well, I had decided to take upon his request and proceeded to my gunshop on the grounds for the job. But when I had arrived, I noticed several things were off. First of all, several of my tools, particularly the block plane, looked as if they had been used.”

“Rally could have been using those tools on another task, Walter,” Sir Integra offered.

Walter just shook his hand. “Not likely. Miss Vincent is very respectful about using my tools and would never do that without my permission or myself being present.” He cleared his throat and continued, “Also, I noticed that the woodshed at the back of the mansion had been entered into, the lock was forced and the hatchet used for cutting firewood had been dulled. I decided to make an inspection of the surrounding grounds and found these.” From behind his back, he produced a quantity of wood chips.

Kenneth studied the chips. “I don’t quite follow,” he said.

“Well I do,” Sir Integra said. “Those are chips of white oak.” She then elaborated upon her observation. “I know all these do not make any sense, but I have a bad feeling what this might entail.”

“Well the wood tools in the shop were used,” Kenneth obsevered. “Perhaps someone wanted to customized their weapon.”

“Kenneth, after four hundred years of life, you don’t seriously believe someone would use white oak for a gun grip,” Sir Townstead discounted.

“Quite true,” Walter said. “I only use black walnut for stocks and handgrips.”

“Indeed,” Sir Islands added. “While anyone can kill a vampire with a stake carved from any wood, the best results can be obtained through the mystic properties of white oak.”

“You don’t believe someone would want any of the Hellsing vampires dead?” Sir Penwood added.

“Well now that you have mentioned it, Sir Penwood,” Walter put in, scratching his chin, “I did recall of an altercation Miss Vincent and Miss Hedgley had last night with one of the new members of the Wild Geese… one by goes by the name of ‘Vic’, if I recall.”

“Moria did mention that incident, Walter,” Kenneth added, “not to mention I broke up an altercation between Moria and this Vic a couple of hours ago. From what she said, I wouldn’t put it past him to make such a stupid move.”

Sir Integra was about to add something else when the phone rang. “Yes?” she said, answering it. “Yes. I see. Very well, Captain Bernadotte, I will meet you shortly.” Hanging up, she replied to the others, “Captain Bernadotte has just informed me that Rally may have found the FREAK in question. She is currently tracking him to his home and will be reporting in shortly.”

“Then I suggest we go and meet her once her mission is ended,” Sir Islands remarked, rising from his seat.

“It may not be to your liking, Hugh,” Sir Townstead said, also rising. “Police work isn’t exactly glamorous.”

“I would not worry too much, Reginald,” Sir Islands dismissed. “During the war, I personally performed shore patrols during my time with the home guard over in Dover. If I can accomplish that, then…”

CLANG-CLANG!!!

The six individuals, startled by the sudden commotion outside, race from the office to the source – namely Moria, who had dropped the tea set and collapsed on the floor, her eyes wide. Seras was kneeling beside her, a mystified look on the Draculina’s face “Moria,” Sir Integra called-up, “what has happened?”

“Yes, Moria dear,” Kenneth added. “You look rather distressed.” Moria didn’t answer, instead apparently staring off into space.

Everyone turned to Seras, and although no one asked, she said, “I wish I knew. We were busy talking while we headed up to the office when all of a sudden her face went blank and she dropped the tea.” Looking at Sir Integra, she added, “I’m sorry, I wish I knew more about what is happening to her.”

“That is alright, Seras,” the Hellsing leader said. Bending down in front of the maid, she added in a gentle voice, “Moria… can you hear me? Is anything wrong?”

Moria was strangely silent, almost in a trance. Those gathered around her just looked at each other, confused.

AT THE SAME TIME…

It had took several minutes of tracking – not to mention making sure she wasn’t noticed – but Rally had finally found the location of the FREAK’s home flat. Reaching inside her shadow, she took-out a pad and pen and jotted down the address. “There, we can keep an eye on the place in case he decides to go hunting,” she whispered. “Then after the show, I’m certain Alucard can take care of him.” She then looked around – and failed to see Vic. “Now where did that asshole go to?” Rally grumbled, sighing as she now searched for the errant mercenary.

Vic, in the meantime, was sweating bullets as he hid behind a tree, one of his stakes at hand. ‘I might not get a second chance at this if I screw-up,’ he nervously thought, his back clinging to the bark of the tree.

In the meantime, Rally had moved back into the thicket where she tracked the FREAK and looked around. “Vic… hey Vic, where are you?” she asked. “Dammit, that asshole was supposed to be my back-up on this. I hope he didn’t chicken-out.”

But all of a second, the dusky vampire froze has her ears picked-up a strange sound. Straining to hear more, Rally focused on the sound. To her, it sounded almost like a heartbeat in overdrive; a rapid, frantic pace. ‘Now that’s strange,’ she thought, ‘it sounds like… like someone’s frightened… I think.’

‘It’s now or never!’ Vic thought frantically. Mustering every last iota of courage he had, Vic emerged from his concealment, screaming as he did. At the same time, he swung the arm he had the stake in around. Startled at the noise, Rally turned around – and was surprised when the stake struck between her breasts and lodged deeply within her!

THE HELLSING MANSION, AT THE SAME TIME….

“AAAAAUUUUUGGGGGHHHHH!!!!” Moria all of a sudden curled-up, clutching her chest as she did. The onlookers jumped briefly, but then looked again as Moria seemed to be in great pain, the young maid clutching her hands over her heart.

Startled, Sir Integra bent over to the trembling maid. “MORIA!!!” she called out. “ARE YOU ALRIGHT!?! WHAT’S HAPPENED TO YOU!?!”

Gasping, Moria straightened herself, her face a mask of pain and fear. “Oh my god… RALLYYYY!!!”

TO BE CONTINUED…

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