Hellsing Fan Fiction ❯ Fight!! ❯ The Fight to End All Fights! ( Chapter 1 )

“Sir, are you entirely sure you know what you're doing?” Seras frowned, squinting as the harsh morning glare accosted her eyes. She was much better suited for nighttime now, and she didn't really have as many qualms with it as she thought she would. The sun hurt her eyes; it was just too bright. That was fact, plain and simple.

“Seras, you worry too much,” the heiress replied. Even though she had just celebrated her seventy-eighth birthday, she still moved and talked like a spry woman of fifty. “If you go with me, who will watch the manor while I'm gone?” Seras sighed, already having had this conversation with her boss all week long.

Sir Integra was going to a 3-day convention of some sort, the kind exclusively for high-bred politicals. She was taking all the young Round Table Knights with her as it was their first dip into “that” sort of society, besides what happened within the confines of their own houses. The 192 members of the London headquarters, staff and rotary guard included, had been given the weekend off. The manor would be nearly deserted, since the lady of the house would be gone off to Geneva for the weekend.

“Alucard can.” She made the same argument she'd been making all week. Even if the young men and their guards would be with her, and even if she was taking the head butler (who was a mastermind with twin blades) for protection, Seras still wasn't satisfied. That butler was no Walter; he couldn't protect her as well. All those guards were just humans. Sir Integra needed supernatural defense.

She'd begged to go, but had been declined time and time again. She'd even offered for Pip to accompany them. He didn't eat, being a specter, and he could travel long distances away from her and still be back in the blink of an eye if she needed him. But still Sir Integra had obstinately refused.

“The Captain will not go, you will not go, and Alucard sure as hell will not go.” Integra replied firmly. “This is supposed to be a peaceful gathering. If I show up armed to the teeth with my vampires and their familiars, I won't seem very peaceful.”

Deep down, Seras knew that the older woman was right. After all, that “peaceful” meeting between her and Maxwell in the museum would have ended in bloodshed if Seras hadn't tactfully reminded Alucard and Paladin Anderson that they were in a public place and had an audience that might not react well to bayonets and guns.

“And besides, I need you here at the mansion,” the elderly woman added with a laugh. “Who will watch after Alucard while I'm gone? That's your job, Police Girl.” Seras smiled; Sir Integra and Alucard were the only ones who still called her that. All the others who had ever used that almost-pet name were long gone, either retired or six feet under. To the men she was “Captain”, while the staff used a resoundingly polite “Miss Victoria” to address her.

“With all due respect, I think Alucard is old enough to take care of himself,” Seras teased, pretending not to understand the other woman's meaning. “Surely he can find some blood to appease his thirst without having it handed to him on a silver platter at dusk.”

“You know that's exactly what I mean, Seras,” Sir Integra answered, pointing a finger at Seras' nose. “I've given him his standing orders, but he's as willingly boneheaded as ever, and you can be sure he'll find some loophole. It's up to you to keep him occupied and amused, so that he doesn't find time to get into trouble. I don't want to come back and find bloodstained hallways overflowing with rats or mist.”

“So I'm babysitting him,” Seras concluded in a deadpan tone. Sir Integra grinned at the thought, but didn't correct her. Her good eye twinkled as she winked, the gesture still holding even with the eye patch. She turned and cleared her throat.

“Come along, boys,” she ordered, walking out the door. Eleven prim and proper young men filed in a solemn single-file procession behind her. Seras covered her mouth to stifle her laughter. It looked like an old mother hen leading her chicks out to the waiting cars, not a political-minded woman and her “peers”.

Seras waved to them from the dim safety of the foyer as the cars were loaded and they left, leaving only hints of cigar smoke and gasoline fumes in their wake. She looked expertly at the rising ball of fire in the sky and turned to head to her basement room, where darkness and the warmth of a coffin welcomed her.

She woke at exactly 6:09 on the dot, the same way she had for over forty years. Something about being a vampire made time seem unimportant, and yet she felt governed by it sometimes. She always felt sleepy by 8:32, and no matter how late she stayed up in the day she always awoke at 6:09.

Her former master was the same way. She knew that she wouldn't see him before 5:30 in the afternoon, or after 10:00 in the morning. She didn't know exactly when he roused himself but she had a general idea of his habits, and he was just as set in his ways as she was in hers.

Rising from her coffin, she felt a presence in her room. She opened her coffin and scratched her stomach, her worn lilac pajamas becoming rumpled in the process. Alucard was seated at her table, in the only available chair. He was watching her, and she blinked at him uncomprehendingly before yawning.

“Hullo,” she greeted sleepily, stretching her arms towards the ceiling. Her pajamas rode up her stomach and she saw his eyes flash towards her exposed skin before coming back to her face.

“Good evening,” he responded with a nod. “Sir Integra is gone for the weekend,” he added, picking up a glass of dark crimson liquid and taking a sip. Seras wondered briefly whether it was wine or blood—those were the only two things he ever bothered to drink. She enjoyed a glass of water once in a while, herself.

“I know,” she answered, reaching down towards her feet to stretch her legs before picking herself up out of her coffin. “I saw her off this morning.” She sent a mental question to Pip, who responded that they were in fact the only two living creatures in the building… if they could even be called that.

“Have a seat,” he motioned, and another chair appeared, seemingly made from shadows and turned into wood. She wondered where he'd got it from. She shook her head and moved to her bureau, pulling out a clean uniform.

“I'll get dressed first,” she told him. “I'm taking a shower too,” she added, in case he decided to wait. He nodded and she went to her bathroom, shutting the door but not locking it. A lock wouldn't stop him if he wanted to enter.

But he wouldn't come in; he would if it meant bothering her and making her mad, but in all honesty she was past minding. He'd seen her exposed chest before—he'd shot it open, in fact. And he did carry some leftover wisp of chivalry, or at least he acted that way towards those he'd deemed high enough to be worthy of the honor.

Still, she looked around carefully for any prying red eyes before stripping and getting into the shower. She performed her morning routine, showering and drying her hair to its usual fluffiness, brushing her teeth and dressing neatly. Looking in the mirror, she finally was satisfied with her appearance and left the bathroom, disposing of her pajamas into the laundry chute for cleaning when the staff returned.

To her surprise, Alucard was still sitting at the table when she returned. She quickly shut her mouth, which had become unhinged when she saw him. Why had he stayed? She'd spent a pretty long time in the bathroom; far longer than his patience usually allowed for. But there he was, sitting with his dirty boots on her clean table.

“Now, sit.” He hardly ever ordered her around now that she was “independent” or however-the-hell he said it, but this was a command, if a very thinly-veiled one. She obeyed and sat in the other seat, and by the time she'd scooted up to the table he had a glass for her as well. She took a cautious sip—ah, so it was blood after all.

“B,” she murmured, licking her lips as the briny taste burned its way down her throat. B reminded her of alcohol; something to be drank in moderation, as the mere taste conjured images of drunken people. She didn't ask for it much, but perhaps it was his favorite. She'd never asked him what his preferred blood was.

“Yes,” he murmured, lifting his glass in the air. She mimicked him in a sort of air toast before taking another, larger sip. The blood filled her stomach like fire, spreading energy to all parts of her body and waking her up fully. She was used to the feeling, but she still cringed inwardly if she thought too long on the fact that she was drinking what was once someone's life supply.

They sat in silence punctuated only by the tap of glasses against the wooden table and the grating sound of a mouse chewing a hole in the wall. Seras finished her glass and set it aside, while Alucard filled his twice more and drank. She watched him quietly, her eyes on his Adam's apple as it bobbed in time with his gulps. How can he drink so much? It's so acrid, I can barely stomach a full glass!

“They say that you're strong,” he said suddenly, scrutinizing the small bit of liquid left sloshing in his glass. Seras jumped, having already spaced out into a daydream.

“Huh?” she blurted, blinking rapidly as she came down to Earth once more. Not one to repeat himself often, he glared at her as he sat his glass down next to hers on the table.

“They say you've grown strong, I said,” he snapped, before leaning back in his chair and regaining his composure. He stuck his boots on her table again and she pursed her lips, fighting the urge to reach over and knock them off. “In vampire terms, anyway.”

“Do they?” she replied, trying to decide who “they” was. Sir Integra? Maybe. Other vampires? Probably. “I've never heard tell of it.”

“Oh, yes,” he grinned, his eyes boring into hers. “Seras Victoria, the Draculina who killed a White Wolf with her bare hands, the most dangerous vampiress of Europe… the dancing shadow, the crimson harpy, Hellsing's avenging angel.” He spread his fingers as if he were going to grab two handfuls of her. “All those names are what others use to describe you, Police Girl.”

“Oh really.” She wasn't impressed. For some reason, it didn't strike a chord with her. People wanted to give her names; so what? She flicked a finger against the glass, letting it ring. “So then… the No-Life King and the Avenging Angel. We sound like tacky superheroes.” This made him laugh.

“Do you really think so?” he sneered, shaking his head. “Humans put a name to things they fear, so they don't have to remember that their fears were once as human as they were.”

“Humans have nothing to fear from us.” She caught his questioning glance. “From me, at least,” she corrected herself. He laughed again, sounding as pretentious as ever.

“You are a vampire, Police Girl. Humans automatically fear you. Vampires or nightwalkers, zombies or Ghouls, werewolves or lupines; any of them have so many different names. The more names you have, the less human you become.”

“Is that so?” she quipped. “Well, they can call me what they want. I don't really care.”

“They call you strong, no matter which name you go by.” He tilted his head slightly and looked down his nose at her. “But you haven't passed the last test, yet. I have not seen your worth.”

“What?” She wasn't sure what he was trying to say, other than the fact that she was apparently worthless to him. She bit back a smart retort and instead gave him her best “death glare”, the one that sent hardened soldiers running for the hills. One regal eyebrow arched, but he was otherwise unaffected.

“While there is no one here, let's have a little fun.” His grin grew even wider, splitting his face, and he leaned over the table towards her conspiratorially. She leaned back, her eyes narrowing. What did he mean by fun?

“What are you suggesting?” His smile threatened to detach the upper half of his face, spreading from ear to ear.

“A little spar. A proper fight between vampires. If you're strong, you should be able to go up against me with no problems. I want an accurate measure of your strength.”

Seras balked. He wanted to fight her? Sure, the weaker rogue vampires that managed to stir up trouble now and then were no match for her prowess, but she wasn't omnipotent like he was! She couldn't fight against him!

“Are you crazy?!” she whispered, cowed by his sudden close proximity to her. He'd stood up to lean over as far as he could, and their noses were practically touching. “I can't hold a candle to you!”

“While I'm touched you have such faith in me,” he purred, his eyes jovial, “surely Hellsing's Avenging Angel can hold her own against a fellow vampire. I made you, remember. I know what you're capable of.” He looked up at the ceiling. “And it's the right conditions. Full moon, no humans around to get in the way, my master not here to fuss about how loud we get….”

“Y-you've been waiting for this, haven't you!?” she hissed, feeling irritated. So this had been his plan? This was why he hadn't protested about not being allowed in Geneva? He wanted to fight her!? “Fine!” she spat, frustrated that he would be so shallow, so one-track-minded that all he could think about was fighting and bloodshed. “If it's a fight you want, it's a fight you'll get.”

She phased into shadows, focusing on the grounds away from the manor. She landed in one of the training fields and decided it was as good a place as any. She rematerialized and yanked off her gloves, shoes, and socks. She stood in the dewy grass in her bare feet, the warm June night all around her. Licking her lips, she sighed and peeled off her jacket as well, leaving her only in her white tank and skirt. She shook her shoulders and fluffed her hair back, preparing for whatever was to come.

“Did I make you angry?” he growled, coming up right behind her. She jumped to the side and glowered at him, keeping a good distance between their bodies. She wasn't going to hold back; if he wanted to know her strength, she'd give it her all. He chuckled at her undressed look and in the blink of an eye was left only in his shirt, pants, and boots. She dug her toes in the dirt and he feinted to her left, forcing her to move right to keep away from him.

They circled each other, and Seras realized they must look like cats before a catfight. She bent lower to the ground and he copied her, his eyes blazing in the moonlight. She sucked a breath in between her teeth, watching him carefully for any movement.

Then, all of a sudden, she was knocked back as a dog t-boned her from the side. She felt the air leave her with a whoosh of breath and cursed aloud, leaping back to her feet. She snarled and shoved the hair out of her eyes, calling immediately for Pip as the massive hound dissolved into the shadows once more.

“You're going to play dirty then?” she growled, and he grinned devilishly in reply. The captain flew to her side and appeared, frowning sternly at Alucard as he lit a cigarette.

“'Zat wasn't very nice, vampire,” he called out. “Didn't your maman teach you not to hit girls?” Seras rolled her eyes.

“That's the best you came up with on the way here?” she snorted. The captain shrugged. “Well, Alucard,” she straightened up slightly. “Call all the dogs you want. Captain Bernadotte can take them, familiar to familiar.” Alucard nodded with a smile and suddenly hundreds of hellhounds surrounded them on the field.

“What the hell, Mignonette!” Pip squeaked, looking around at the slobbering, growling animals, red eyes blinking in the night. “I can take them? There's a thousand here at least!”

“Yes, you can take them,” Seras admonished. “Don't be a coward. Take them… somewhere else,” she whispered, jerking her head towards the other training fields. You're my familiar, you signed up for this, she added mentally, so that Alucard couldn't hear. Just keep them away from me, so I can fight him one-on-one.

“Right,” Pip sighed, before whistling shrilly and snapping his fingers. “Come on then, you damn mutts!” he shouted before shooting a few at random and then jumping across the training fields, hounds in hot pursuit. Alucard watched them with raised eyebrows before turning back to Seras.

“Your man is deserting. I've never seen anyone run away so fast,” he said mockingly.

“It's called strategy,” she responded, cringing as the howls of wounded animals mingled with the captain's curses. She pushed the sounds out of her mind and concentrated on the man before her, cracking her knuckles.

She wasn't an idiot. She knew Alucard was much stronger than she was, and he had a bigger arsenal of weapons at his disposal. But she wasn't sure how much of it he was willing to bring out against her. She was sure he had some design of his own in mind behind this farce of a sparring match, but she couldn't figure out what he wanted to see from her.

Maybe it was just an assessment of her strength. Maybe he wanted to test her fortitude. Maybe he just was bored and wanted someone to rip him apart for a few hours. Who knew? But what he had said nagged at her mind. “A proper fight between vampires.”

She had watched vampires fight before. They fought to the death, or until one surrendered to the other. In Rome, she'd seen vampiric gladiators duke it out with each other in a coliseum, where such gory spectacles were the height of entertainment for the upper castes.

“I'm waiting,” he announced, and she hissed angrily.

“After you.”

“I've already been accused once tonight of behaving in an ungentlemanly manner,” he retorted. “I'd hate to mar my good character again.”

“Listen,” she barked, “if you don't hurry up we'll still be standing here when Sir Integra gets back. Either attack me or don't!” He tutted, shaking his head.

“Such impatience,” he tsked sarcastically. “Well, if that's really what you want….” She barely had time to see his body move before he was right in her face. Her instinct kicked in and she slapped him, backing up a step. He barely touched his cheek and frowned at her. “Police Girl, if that's all you're going to do to me, this fight will be over before it's started.”

“What are you talking about?” she growled, shaking the sting out of her palm. Damn, he scared me and I reacted in the stupidest way possible. I should've punched his skull right off his head. “I'm just getting started.”

“Oh, so that should count as a warm-up?” he teased. She shrugged one shoulder and balled her hands into fists, honing in on him with every sense she had. She hung off every twitch of his body, every sound that he made. He wasn't going to startle her again.

He moved and this time, she felt the air behind her become unsettled before he even reappeared. She swung her arm around, her claws coming out and sliced him cleanly across his throat as he moved in. Warm blood splattered across her arm and she saw his eyes widen in astonishment as his head fell back, no neck holding it up anymore.

His shadows raced to heal the wound and she stepped back, licking the blood off her nails. It tasted like he'd drowned himself in B. Ugh, not a good combination with what he's already got. He picked himself up off the ground, cracking his neck as it finished healing.

“Warm-up's over?” he asked, and she swore under her breath. He just had to take everything as a joke, didn't he?! She nodded violently, face twisted in anger, and he crouched down. “Good.” The next thing she knew, she was on the ground, tackled and held down by his body.

She threw her knee up as hard as she could, and felt it connect with something soft. He grunted and she shoved him off, scrambling to get back onto her feet. He rubbed his gut with one hand and dived for her legs, shadows spreading into hands that groped for her.

She backed away to the side, her own shadows grappling with his, avoiding his lunge and trying to get a good angle to force him to the ground. She heard a snarl and turned without thinking, her foot colliding in midair with a shadowy hound. It yelped in pain and dissolved into nothing, but it distracted her long enough.

She gasped as her arm was twisted behind her back, forcing her to rise onto her tiptoes to ease the pressure. She wriggled, but to her chagrin he'd managed to capture both her arms in the hold. He leered at her, twisting around to stare at her like that awful priest had, the night she lost her life.

“That's crooked, even for you.” She frowned at him somberly, angry that he would use such a low-handed trick. He twisted her arm tighter, and she heard her bones protest. Finally she grew tired of letting him have the upper hand and did the one thing she wished she'd thought of in Cheddar.

Leaning back, she bashed her forehead against his as hard as she possibly could. She saw stars and gritted her teeth against the agony that blossomed in her skull, but the move did its job. He let go of her with a hiss of pain, and she stumbled away, her hands going to her forehead as black spots impeded her vision. Ow, ow, ow!

She looked up, feeling dizzy, and saw him holding his head as well. He moved his hand and she saw a trail of blood on his glove, realizing that she'd broken his nose with the impact. She felt her own face gingerly and found to her relief that she was mostly alright, save a minor concussion. And that wouldn't be a problem either; she'd be right as rain in a few moments.

He smeared the blood between two fingers, frowning in puzzlement. She backed away further, ready for his inevitable counterattack. He looked at her, his eyes narrowed, one fang showing. Until this moment he'd been playing with her, but now he clearly meant business. She gulped quietly, feeling a shiver of fear run down her spine. She wasn't going to get out of this without a few broken bones. Not now.

The baying of the hounds rose in response to their master's hellish fury, and Seras scowled as she wondered if he'd try another sneak attack. Was this all he was going to do all night; attack her with the dogs and then laugh when she was too busy with them to see him coming?

“Enough with the damn hounds,” she snarled, sounding a lot like a canine herself. “I'm ready for you to fight me, like you said.”

“I am fighting,” was his reply. She shook her head.

“With low-handed tricks and childish sneak attacks?” she laughed coldly. “That's hardly fighting like a real vampire, now is it?”

Alucard was amused for a moment, recalling how he had taunted the elder Valentine in much the same way; urging him to fight like a real vampire. Baring his sharp teeth in a vicious smile, he took a step forward and appeared to vanish in the blink of an eye. Seras felt a pressure as he leaned on her, hand resting lightly on her forearm as if he were using her for balance.

“If you insist, Police Girl,” he nearly purred, his lips brushing her ear lightly as he whispered the words. She barely had time to shiver at the implication of his tone before he moved. Snap. It was such a clean break, she almost didn't register what had happened before the pain burst like a flame through her nerves. Her forearm was twisted to an unnatural angle, dangling sickeningly from a new joint he'd so kindly made for her.

He swung her by the same arm, his eyes never leaving her body as it arced over his head almost gracefully before he threw her to the ground with a maniacal laugh. Despite the pain, Seras managed to flip in midair a split-second before she would have face planted in the dirt. Her breath jerked in a ragged hiss as she cradled her arm close to her chest protectively while her powers worked to quickly set and heal the break, leaving it as healthy a bone as it was before in a manner of seconds.

“Cheap shot,” she grumbled as she flexed her fingers, testing the sturdiness of her reformed limb before launching herself forwards in a head-on assault. She mimicked his move, seemingly vanishing into thin air. Her heel landed on the back of his right knee, the force of her body inverting it. She bounced backwards, the grin on her face eerily similar to his.

He barely moved, only grunting as his leg snapped towards the ground from the force of her kick. He looked down at it briefly before turning his head to stare at her over his shoulder, eyes burning like hellfire as he licked his lips.

“Is that the best you've got?” he chuckled. “And here I'd thought we'd agreed to stop warming up.” Her smile faded at the insult and she felt her cheeks grow hot, growling at him low in her throat. He pivoted on his heel, aiming a kick at her face with his broken leg and roaring with laughter as she stumbled trying to avoid it.

He kicked his leg out before him as she righted herself, and she heard the wet snap as it fell back into place and healed. He cracked his neck again, loosening his shoulders as if he didn't have a care in the world. The sight irked her; she turned her head slightly and rolled her eyes, writing him off without fully lowering her guard.

“It's dangerous to take your eyes off your opponent, even for a second,” he crooned in her ear, jumping behind her as he slid an arm around her chest. He ran his fingers over her cheek teasingly, his breath cold on the back of her neck where the tank top exposed her bare skin. She stiffened in outrage to hide her shiver of something else, and when his fingers came too close to her lips she reacted without thinking.

She bit his fingers with a snarl, hearing the satisfying crunch of bone as her senses reeled with the taste of blood on her tongue. As close as he was to her, she could hear the grumble of anger in his chest. Suddenly, his skin squirmed and she shrieked in repulsion as the mangled digits became writhing, disgusting insects. They skittered around her mouth, little feelers brushing the inside of her cheeks and sliding down the back of her throat as their legs lost traction on her wet tongue.

Gagging violently, she tore herself away from him in a panic as she felt the insect bodies against the back of her mouth. He laughed uproariously at her and she saw red as she tasted something vile and bitter. She spit on the grass, wiping her tongue on the back of her arm as she coughed. The bugs dissolved into tart, dry ash which she spat out easily enough, but she swore she could still feel them crawling around her teeth and gums. Nausea churned in her stomach and she allowed herself a small tremble as disgust and rage warred in her turbulent thoughts.

Rage won and her eyes glowed with an unholy fire as she stormed towards him, shouting angrily.

“You wanna mess around with your hands?!” Her voice rose an octave as she came even with his hunched over form and her claw-tipped fingers dug into the meat of his shoulder. She yanked with brute force until the ball slid from its socket, muscle and flesh tearing sickeningly with a sound not unlike ripped newspaper. Blood gushed from the moment his skin ripped, flowing everywhere and staining the ground, the grass seeming to wilt with the dark color of death.

“Play with these hands!” Her voice cracked and trembled in her indignation, her temper at the breaking point as she lifted the limb over her head. Blood trickled down her arm and dripped into her hair, but she was beyond caring as she swung and smacked Alucard in the face with the soggy, gory end of his own severed arm.

He tumbled to the ground, already off-balanced by the force of his own wild laughter. He lay on his back, a red stain streaked across his cheek and over one eye, and continued to howl at the moon. Seras gulped, her fury waning only slightly at the utterly insane sound of his nearly shrieking mirth.

“Stop it,” she muttered, feeling something akin to fear blossoming in her chest at the sound. Suddenly, she understood what his enemies felt the minute before they died. “Stop it!” she repeated, screaming this time. She held his arm like a baseball bat, and it cracked with wet, muffled sounds as she swung it again and again at his head every time he tried to sit up. She heard his neck snap at one point, but didn't dare stop. “It's. Not. Funny!” she yelled, punctuating every word with a swing of the arm.

The fingers of the hand she was holding tightened on hers, claws scratching her palm as it was held in a tight grip. She squeaked in alarm and let go, but it dangled by its punishingly tight hold on her. She shook it off like it was a small animal, dancing around for a moment before smacking it once more against his head. His skull cracked, but for the moment he'd stopped laughing.

“Lemme go!” she hissed angrily, and the hand obediently released its hold and dropped from her. She rubbed her knuckles, studying the even scratches as they welled up with blood. She heard him move and looked quickly, not going to be fooled again by his quick reflexes. She was through with him playing around with her; she meant business from now on, and she wanted him to be the same.

He sniffed, and opened one eye. The other was hanging from its socket, the entire left side of his face having been caved in from her frantic pummeling. Part of his brain was showing and his face looked more like a poorly tenderized steak, red and lumpy. Still, he sat up, grinning even as his teeth sagged from gums no longer fully connected to his jaw.

“Something smells good,” he cackled, though the words were slurred and the laughter came out as more of a sick gurgle. She groaned as she stared at his face, and then licked her wounds out of spite. Like hell he was going to get her blood; he'd made her cave his face in like a melon! She made sure her scratches healed and then watched with morbid fascination as his face rebuilt itself.

It was like watching an anatomy diagram building itself up. The skeletal structure healed, fractures sealing and turning his face back into a skull shape. Then the muscle rushed to cover the polished white bone, and she could see nerves snapping back into place and veins rewiring themselves around the thick tissues. Skin stretched over the reformed head and hair moved to cover it. It took less than a minute for his face to be back to normal.

She watched in awe, head tilted slightly and the fight temporarily forgotten. She'd never seen him heal any part of his body like that before. Usually it was just shadow being made into flesh, but this way was so much more…interesting.

He felt his face, rubbing his hand over his cheekbone in satisfaction before standing. His arms were both back where they belonged, and Seras turned to see the arm she'd severed dissolve, rats pouring out both sides of the sleeve. She winced and then he was before her, hand tangling in her hair as he wrenched her head back and forced her to look him in the eye.

“Now,” he mused, eyebrow arching imperiously as he stared her down. “If your little nervous breakdown is over, we can get back to business.”

“That was disgusting, and you know it,” she snapped, mouth drawn tight in case he got any other ideas. He leered at her, shaking his head.

“Come now,” he teased. “Every little girl is forced to eat bugs on the playground. But if you're ready to stop biting and fighting like a child, then I suppose we can move on.” He brought his other hand up to brush the bloodied bangs back from her forehead. “Then again, if you really wanted to taste me, all you had to do was ask,” he grinned. Seras squirmed, wincing as her hair pulled taunt, and let out a put-upon sigh.

“Let go,” she grumbled, her voice firm as she made him know it was a command passing from her lips. He raised a brow and she glared, her mouth twisting. “Please,” she spat, the word dripping with venom and doing nothing to soften the order. He obliged her, his fingers untangling from her hair and she pulled away sharply, brushing the imaginary dirt from her tank top to resettle her shot nerves. She took a deep, unnecessary breath and turned her face towards the moon's surface, which appeared closer than ever and had taken a red tint.

She nodded at him, and he stared at her inquisitively. She took no more time to prepare before she jumped behind him, nothing but the air displacing before she grabbed hold of his shirt, dragging him down as her leg aimed between his slightly parted ones.

He dissolved into shadows, leaving behind his white shirt still in her hands. Her leg, without his groin to stop it, came up all the way and tangled in it, forcing her to bounce slightly to keep up with the shift in her weight. She grit her teeth and tensed as she felt the hairs on the back of her neck bristle in response to his powers flaring. She turned on her heel, nearly falling but managing to thrust her leg at his chest, using the force of the impact to rebound backwards out of arm's reach. He laughed at her as he crooked his finger in a come-hither gesture, leaving his discarded dress shirt on the grass, forgotten for the moment.

“Put your shirt back on!” she squeaked as she stared at his naked chest, feeling her cheeks burn. His lips curved up at the corners smugly as he stood there, clearly comfortable with letting her look as long as she wanted.

“No, I don't think I will,” he leered, gloved fingers twitching at his sides. “It's such a beautiful night tonight, Police Girl.” He glanced suggestively at her, and she scoffed, suddenly wishing he could at least act embarrassed. “In fact, why don't you take your shirt off, too?”

“A-Absolutely not!” she sputtered, her wide eyes incredulous. “Some of us have dignity! A-and besides,” she added with an uncomfortable air born from years of living with a prudish heiress, “Some of us like to keep our proper English manners.”

“You forget,” he retorted, stalking closer before blurring and coming nose to nose with her, “that I am not English.” She gasped and he moved behind her, hands teasingly grabbing the hem of her top. “Vampires belong to no country, Seras,” he informed her, and it could have been just another lecture from him had it not been for their current positions. “So why don't you forget your manners and join me?”

“What are you going to do next, rape me?” she scoffed, twisting out of his hold. He let her go, hands on his hips as he studied her. “We're fighting, remember?” She took a defensive position and stared him down, waiting for his next move.

“Rape?” he parroted, voice light with amusement. He jumped in the air, and she craned her head in an effort to keep up with him. He landed a punch that rocked her head back, and the edges of her vision blurred white with the pain. “Are you sure you wouldn't be even a little willing?”

“No!” she coughed, trying to drag in some air as her head spun. She shook it off and managed to deflect his next punch, twisting his fist in her grasp and breaking the elbow joint until his forearm was completely upside-down.

“Is that no, you're not willing; or no, you're not sure?” he teased, letting his broken arm hang loose as he struck again with his other fist.

“Sh-shut up!” she yelled back, dodging the swing and leaping forward while his arm was still extended to shove her palm under his chin, hearing his neck snap with a satisfying crack. She leaned back as her momentum rebounded and pushed off from his knees with her feet, back flipping through the air. She squealed in alarm as he caught her by the ankle, dangling her in mid-air teasingly as he bounced her a little, the hem of her shirt catching on the underside of her breasts.

He swung her around behind him with his shadows, coming face to face with her. He hadn't healed his neck yet, and he grinned at her savagely, looking down (up?) to where her breasts were squished uncomfortably against her chin.

“My, my….” he tutted. “What a compromising position you've gotten yourself into, Miss Avenging Angel. Perhaps you're not so strong after all.”

“Oh, stop with the melodrama,” she sneered, managing to sound formidable even though she was upside down and nearly swallowing her own boobs. “You sound like we're in a bad porno!” With that, she grabbed two fistfuls of his hair and yanked as hard as she could, feeling some of the strands rip out of his scalp. Their balance upset, he let her go in surprise and she landed on her back, throwing him across the field. She sat up and watched him tumble once, and then land on his feet. He turned around and looked back at her, brushing off his shoulders.

“Like you've ever watched a porno,” he chuckled, a malevolent gleam lighting his crimson irises from deep within. He took one step, and then another, his serial killer stalk down pat. Seras bent at the knees, ready to pounce at a moment's notice. However, that seemed to be the exact reaction he was waiting for. He stomped his foot down, and his shadows tore up the earth at a frightening speed, sending dirt and grass flying into the air.

Seras gasped and tried to dodge, but the air was thick with soil and she had no idea which way the attack might be heading, apart from the general direction of the cracks. She jumped high in the air, tucking into a ball and searching for his form as her shadows spread into wings to hold her aloft. She heard laughter behind her and then wham. Her skull snapped backwards as he elbowed her in the back, sending her towards the earth.

She hit the ground in a belly-flop and laid there a moment as her spine fused back together. She was surprised at how much pain she had been able to take so far. She'd been broken, beaten, and torn all different ways, but behind it all was a desire to show him what-for, along with the knowledge that if she did give up, he'd think less of her for it. She had to find some way to make him surrender to her, or else it would be like those gladiators in Rome—a fight to the death.

She rose up on her elbows, spitting out grass and dirt. She made it to her knees and sighed when she saw that her white tank top was now a mess of gory splotches and grass stains. Oh, that's bloody wonderful. His hand tangled in her hair again, raising her up as if he meant to lop off her head or something. She gazed up at him dispassionately.

“I've seen more than you. You don't know how to work the damn telly anyway.” He bent down on one knee, lips stretched in a grin that seemed more vicious than happy.

“Why should I pay to watch it on a screen, when I can go and see the same things happen live?” he asked her. She wrinkled her nose and he pinched her cheek mockingly. “Little prude.” Seras made a face at him, trying to pull her cheek back to its rightful place.

“You try living with one for fifty years and see what rubs off on you,” she snipped, hands jerking up to wrap around his wrist. She used her sharpened thumbnail to slice through his nerves, at the same time pulling hard on the temporarily senseless fingers. Some of her hair was yanked out in the process, but she managed to break free of his hold and she scrambled backwards, trying to get a relatively safe distance between them. She wracked her brain for a new plan of attack.

He watched her, tipping his head forward habitually, peering over sunglasses that weren't there. He opened his fingers, dropping the strands of hair to the ground dismissively and shaking his hand as the feeling rushed back into it.

“Rubbing off on you, hmm…” he seemed to consider her words for a moment, his expression pensive. Then, a perverse sneer twisted his face as she mistook her footing while rushing towards him and tripped over an exposed root. He practically blurred forward to shove her flat to the ground, knee landing flush between her breasts.

“Haven't I rubbed off on you, Police Girl?” he purred. “It's been twenty years, after all.” As he spoke, his leg moved slowly up and down along her abdomen, and her face flushed with shame, anger, and embarrassment. He caught the myriad of emotions running rampant across her face and his sneer widened. “Ah, the poor little virgin is still so shy, even after all these years,” he murmured sarcastically, his tone bordering the line between mocking and hurtful. She opened her mouth and closed it again, looking up at him with a scornful glare.

“Who says I'm still a virgin?” The question was enough to make him stop for a split-second, his eyes widening in shock before he grinned once more, making it clear that he didn't believe a word. She arched up into his leg, the corner of her mouth rising in a challenge. “After all, you were gone for thirty years, and a lot of things happened that Sir Integra doesn't know anything about. Especially when she goes to sleep so early in the night…” she trailed off, leaving him to draw his own conclusions.

The smile froze on his face, and the all-too-familiar aura of insanity was rolling off of him in waves as he glared down at her, the barest hint of suspicion high in his ginger gaze.

“Is that so?” he enunciated slowly, practically oozing with malice. His leg moved down to press almost painfully against the apex of her thighs, and she bit back a gasp. Shadows squirmed around her and rose from the grass in thin tendrils, wrapping around her arms and legs and holding her down to the loamy soil. Still more rose to her breasts, clenching them in their wispy hold.

“W-what are you doing?!” she jerked, trying to push him off, her claustrophobia rising as she found herself completely immobile. “Let me go!” she demanded, wincing at the shrill edge to her last word as he leaned down to plant his gloved hands on either side of her head, caging her in further.

“What's the matter?” he crooned brutishly. “You act like this is something new!” His eyes burned with cold fire as he spat the words venomously, no longer holding the playful façade. “Your lover must have not been very satisfying if he didn't touch you like this!” To emphasize his point, the shadows squeezed her breasts tighter and he pressed his full body weight onto the soft, fleshy part between her thighs, causing her to gasp in pain.

“Well,” she responded through clenched teeth, trying not to show the pain he was causing her, “perhaps he was a little more gentle, and a little less bony!” She hissed as his shin dug further into her body out of spite. He felt like a skeleton—no mass to him beyond bones and skin, and when he threw his whole body on her like that it felt like a knife!

She thought about calling out to Pip, knowing that the Frenchman would come to her aid in moments the minute he knew what was happening. He would be furious at the way Alucard was treating her. But he was still on the grounds somewhere, fighting off legions of hounds. For the moment, Seras was all alone in her battle. She felt a spark of panic and fear blossom like a tiny flame in her chest, but she pushed it back firmly.

Alucard bared his shark-like teeth in a cruel sneer, the sharp points gleaming in the moonlight. She frowned, trying not to cower beneath him although that was exactly what she felt like doing. She knew that saying what she did would provoke him into doing something bad, but she didn't think he'd manage to take it this far.

“You want gentle, Police Girl?” He eased the weight off her abdomen, but kept her thoroughly pinned as the shadowy wisps retreated from her chest, one of his hands taking their place. His smile never wavering, he leaned down ever so slowly, jaw unhinging sickly as every sharp tooth in his head aimed for her other breast. She shrieked in fright and bucked, trying to throw him off.

The shadows around her arms and legs tightened, digging painfully into her skin and holding her completely still. She chewed her lip, trying to decide how far he'd go. She couldn't move at all, and even though fearful tears welled in her eyes she blinked them away, determined that he wouldn't make her cry.

She wasn't a little girl anymore, who whimpered and sobbed at the first sign of danger. If that vicar couldn't make her cry, and if the Nazis couldn't, than Alucard sure as hell wouldn't! She screwed her eyes shut and hunched her shoulders as best she could despite the shadows holding her back, her fangs biting into her lower lip as she awaited his strike.

“What's the matter; are you frightened of the big, bad vampire?” he hissed as the points of his teeth touched the material of her shirt. She shook her head quickly. “Then open your eyes and face me!” Her eyes flew open and he raised back up enough to see over her chin, peering at her angrily. His knee moved, pressing against her almost gently, the gloved hand on her breast pressing it flat in a not-quite-painful way.

As they eyed each other, heat surged in her cheeks; whether from fear, embarrassment or—god forbid—arousal, she wasn't quite sure. Fighting back an uneasy sound, she went stiff as a board beneath him, fingers clenching and digging up handfuls of dirt and grass. She frowned at him, looking away after a long moment. His eyes were just too piercing; it was like he was trying to see down into her very soul.

“I said look!” he snarled, jerking her back towards him with a hand on her chin. She cried out in alarm and pain as her fangs sliced her lower lip. The blood welled and she tried to lick it away, but he was too fast for her. His finger swiped the crimson liquid from her mouth and he studied it in the moonlight with all the air of a connoisseur before licking it off in one fell swoop.

He swallowed, licking his lips. A moment of silence passed, and then a slow smile spread across his face. It was one of the few smiles that ever reached his eyes, which glittered from within with a solemn, knowing light. He leaned forward, his hands running smoothly up her body as he kneeled over her, fingers almost teasing in their light touch. He bent down, his forehead resting against hers, noses brushing.

“Seras Victoria, you are a liar,” he whispered against her lips, and she felt his grin. Her own tightened into a thin line and when he rose back to look into her eyes, she made the most disrespectful, sarcastic expression she could muster. He laughed, the sound almost jovial, before bending back down to brush his lips against her ear. “I abhor liars, you know.”

“Well, too bad. Guess you have to hate me now, too,” she deadpanned, and swallowed hard. Adrenaline was still gushing through her veins, and if she had been alive her heart would have been beating in overdrive. She had the sudden wish that Sir Integra had been around to enact a very demeaning, much deserved punishment on him.

“Mmm, what a waste that would be,” he murmured, looking her over scrutinizingly. “A fifty-year waste, to be sure. I've put too much time and effort into you to hate you, I'm afraid. Even if you are a defiant, cheeky little upstart.” She narrowed her eyes and squirmed, ready for him to release her. He watched her, leaning on one elbow lazily.

“Then again,” he mused when she stopped for a moment, “Women who are completely submissive aren't that much fun in bed.” He grinned when she gasped. “Perhaps you might be lascivious after all.” He nipped her ear and she shied away from him as best she could with bonds still tying her to the earth. “How about we test my theory?” he growled playfully.

“How about not!?” She felt him playing with the hem of her top and wiggled, trying to evade his touch. “If you touch me, I'll scream at the top of my lungs,” she avowed, eyes cold. Even though she knew—they both knew—that no one was around for miles to hear them. The grounds were empty, and the forest outside of the manor had no houses.

“Good,” he retorted. “I like it when women resist me, Police Girl,” he explained, encouraging her struggles he ran his inhumanly long tongue from her chin to her forehead, and she cringed in disgust.

“Please. Don't lick. My face.” She grit her teeth with every word as if to stop what she really wanted to say from spilling out. Her accompanying glower was lost on him, however, as he just chuckled darkly.

“Well, would you like to suggest a better spot?” he asked amiably. She shuddered and looked away, preferring to give him the cold shoulder. Then a cunning gleam lit up her eyes and she finally muttered something under her breath. “I'm sorry, what was that?” He put a hand to his ear mockingly. She turned back to him, jerking her head sideways to direct his attention.

“I said, my arm,” she repeated louder. “You got dirt all over it, shoving me down like you did. Lick it up.”

“You're either unimaginative, or just no fun,” he replied with an exaggerated sigh, frowning. Seras' eyebrow twitched minutely at his words.

“Says the man whose definition of fun involves mass murder.” He laughed loudly at that, the peals echoing across the training fields all around them. Then his gaze became more serious as he looked back down at her.

“I'm not licking your arm. Name your second option,” he urged her on with a perverse tone. She shook her head, obstinately refusing. “Why? Frightened?” he asked again, and a flicker of recognition lit up in the back of Seras' mind. Is that what this is all about? Is he trying to make me admit that I'm scared of him? Fat chance!

He made her nervous at times, and she did comprehend that he could easily rip her limb from limb without breaking a sweat, but a good 90% of the time she wasn't afraid of him at all. Somewhere in the back of her mind was the logic that he wouldn't kill something he had put effort into creating.

“No,” she said slowly, drawing the syllable out as she considered what to say. Finally she thought to herself, Screw politeness. I'm stuck on the ground and he's being a bastard anyway. It was time to stop being Miss Nice Vampire. “If you want to act like a slobbering puppy, you can lick me where little drooling animals do,” she informed him icily. “So lick my arm, Fido,” she snarled at him, doing her best Integra impression along with the order.

All at once, it became too quiet. The sounds of the forest beyond the walls, which until now had been loud with the squeaking call of night creatures, the hoots of owls and skittering leaves under the hooves of deer, ceased completely. Over the barely rustling leaves a new sense of anticipation and dread hung, and the hairs on Seras' neck rose as she too sensed the sudden aura of danger in the air—while before it had been a notion in the back of her mind, now it was all too apparent that she'd said the wrong thing.

The corner of his mouth twitched downward, the only part of his face that even moved in response to her authoritative voice. But the danger was clear in his eyes, narrowing in anger as her words sunk in. She half expected him to come out with some “you dare!?” line, the look he was giving her was so potent. She swallowed, suddenly wanting to apologize. The words didn't come and she brushed back the guilty feeling, deciding that she meant it. He was taking this too far, and she didn't care anymore if it made him mad.

“What's the matter?” she hissed, her eyes hard. Maybe now he'd realize that she meant business. “Did I hurt your feelings?” Finally he moved, and she was quite proud of herself for not twitching or cringing. She expected him to punch a hole in her body, or perhaps break her neck, but he simply poked one finger into the valley between her breasts, digging punishingly hard into the tender spot beneath her collarbone.

“If I am a dog,” he snapped, sounding very much like a canine (or perhaps a wolverine), “then that must make you my bitch. And last time I checked, they didn't give the orders.” Seras let out an exclamation of pure outrage, her face flooding with righteous indignation. Did he just call her a—did he think he could get away with—her mind refused to work for a full minute as she fought back furious tears. The nerve of him!

“You! Why—you—don't think you can just go around and do what you want! I'm not taking orders from you, either!” she finally screeched. “You challenge me to a fight, and then you tie me down and feel me up like it's some kind of sick fantasy of yours—which isn't going to happen, by the way!” She twisted beneath him half-madly, her wild movements nearly unseating him before he tightened his hold on her.

“Let me go!” she howled wildly, yanking against her bonds with all her strength. “I'm done playing your sick little games! Let me up! I'll break my fucking arms if I have to; just watch me!”

He did watch her, moving with her but staying silent until she managed to completely wear herself out. She slumped back against the ground, panting. She felt his gaze boring into her, but she only glanced at him long enough to see that the wrath had mostly disappeared from his features, a shallow impatience taking its place.

“Are we finished?” he said at length, seemingly unaffected by her fit. His arms were crossed, one knee on either side of her hips as he balanced his weight on her lower body. She took a deep breath, praying to anyone who would listen that his hold on her would loosen for only one second; just long enough for her to punch him right in the mouth and break every damn tooth he had.

“Oh…just—fuck you!”

“And here you just said it wouldn't happen,” he crooned, fingers kneading her hips. “Do you even know what you want, Police Girl?”

“I want you to get off of me!” she shouted to the heavens, her throat burning with the effort. She'd shout until her voice box broke, if that's what it took.

“You want me to get off? Well, you'll have to try harder than that.” His hips ground against hers suggestively as he laughed sadistically.

“Ooh,” she swore, inhaling sharply. “You make me so frustrated sometimes!” He cackled again, a truly terrible sound that grated against every last nerve in her body. It was nearly astounding—she was too livid to even be scared, if that was indeed what he wanted out of her.

“That's what time alone in your coffin is for, my dear.” She was so busy indulging in her own furious thoughts that she almost missed the barb. Almost. Her eyes widened and she tried to move her legs, to no avail. If I could just get my knee up a little farther, I'd make him a eunuch for that.

“That's not what I meant!” she insisted coldly, her arms straining. The shadows wrapped themselves around her with an extra loop, keeping her firmly to the ground. “Besides, you're being completely improper with me!” she added. So much for imagined chivalry. He might not be much of a voyeur, but he's lewd and impolite to everyone after all.

“You don't like that suggestion?” he asked with pretend-desolation. “Or,” he leered at her, ignoring her protests of inappropriate conduct and looming over her like a hawk ready to strike, “If you prefer, I could help you with that.”

“I'd prefer not,” she declared stonily. He shook his head, tsking. Every sound set her already frazzled nerves on edge.

“Now, Seras. What did I just say about lying?” he asked, looking much like a teacher lecturing a very undeserving, delinquent pupil.

“What makes you think you're my type?” Seras growled, glaring up at the half-naked man looming over her. She fought to keep her eyes from wandering down his exposed chest and abdomen, cursing her weakness for—as Pip so blatantly put it once—“eye candy”. “You're really full of yourself, you know that?”

“I'm not blind,” he replied knowingly. “I see you trying to ignore what's right in front of you.” She began to shake her head, but he stopped her, his palm flat against her forehead. He pushed her bangs back from her face, her eyes no longer hidden by the blonde strands. “Look me in the eyes and tell me you don't see something you like.” His tone was smug—he had her cornered. The corner of her mouth twisted and she broke eye contact to look him over pointedly, her features appraising as she took in the sight. Finally she sighed.

“Yeah, you're okay.” That earned her a low chuckle.

“Okay? Just okay?” He bent down, pulling his body flush with her prone form, his eyes never leaving hers. “I'll have you know women have been lusting after a mere glimpse of me for centuries, Police Girl.” He sounded offended, but Seras could tell it was all just a front. “Females of our kind would sell kingdoms for one night with me.”

“I'm sorry our standards are so low,” she responded curtly.

“If you say so,” he responded, seemingly unbothered by her not-so-subtle insult. He laughed softly after a long moment, running his thumb across her lips. “Poor little thing,” he murmured if there were some unseen listener nearby. “If she'd just admit defeat, I might take it easy on her.”

“As if,” Seras scoffed. She wanted to bite his thumb off, but at the same time didn't want another mouthful of bugs. “If you weren't playing dirty and holding me down, I'd be making you admit defeat.” He tilted his head and watched her, leaning just enough on her to make sure she felt every possible inch of his body without her lungs being crushed.

“But isn't that what “winner” means? The person who comes out on top?” he asked, eyes gleaming with unholy glee as he pressed down further, clearly enjoying himself.

“We'd probably both have more fun if I came out on top,” she answered stoically. She knew what was coming next, and was already working quickly to turn the odds in her favor.

“Is that a suggestion?” he murmured, shifting one leg between her thighs in a blatant effort to upset her. She smiled demurely, but beneath the façade her eyes were blazing.

“It's a promise,” she responded sweetly. “I think you'll get everything that's coming to you.” He laughed then, grin stretching immeasurably wide and showing off every tooth in his head.

“I'm not falling for that, Police Girl.” She shook her head.

“I didn't think you would. But you've never been able to resist a challenge.” This earned her another laugh, and he brushed the stray hairs off of her face, the smile slowly fading as he watched her. She stared back at him, her mind turning over the plan she was concocting. It might not work, and it might get her in a lot of trouble. However, if it did work, she'd have the upper hand again, and maybe then this little “fight” could be over. His hand brushed her neck and she pressed into his touch, sighing softly. The act was enough to make him pause and she smiled coyly before closing her eyes.

“That feels nice,” she murmured. She felt his hesitation and cracked one eye to see him staring down at her with something akin to puzzlement. “What?”

“I'm not falling for that,” he repeated. She mentally sighed and then batted her eyelashes, moving slowly beneath him.

“Falling for what?” she asked innocently. His frown deepened as he narrowed his eyes. “What are you talking about? All I said was that it felt nice.” She smiled. “Do it again.” When he didn't move, she pretended to pout. “Please?”

“Seras…” her name was a dire warning that she probably should have heeded. She huffed derisively, not bothering to hide the trail her eyes were taking down his exposed body.

“Unless you can think of something better. Or are you just scared, vampire king?” she purred, rubbing against him. He pulled back an inch or two, eyes flashing darkly. “Oh, so you only came onto me because you thought that's not what I wanted—ah, yes,” she remembered, “you said you only like it when women resist you.” His nostrils flared in anger as he glared down at her, lip curling and showing the edge of one pointed tooth.

“Police Girl….”

“Well, maybe I like it when men resist me,” she continued brazenly, wiggling purposefully and arching her back a little, the shadows around her midsection stretching to accommodate her. A dangerous gamble, as it left her vulnerable to retaliation, but she was determined to ride it out until the end. She felt him shake above her, and then laughter escaped his clenched lips. He grinned and laughed louder, drowning out the never-ceasing bay of the hellish legion battling with the Captain. She wanted to snarl, but forced herself to laugh with him, even outdoing him, her own peals sounding near-hysterical. She managed to get it under control when his fingers wrapped around her throat, squeezing warningly.

“Let me offer you some advice, my dear,” he said, the both of them still chuckling. “You better watch out,” he murmured, still squeezing her neck tight enough to leave bruises, “or you just might find yourself in over your head.” She couldn't take in air to reply, but she didn't let her gaze waver for an instant. “I've been gentle, because you wanted it, but if you keep provoking me I might have to change my attitude and take you up on that little offer.” He loosened his grip enough for her to take a breath.

“No one's stopping you,” she retorted as soon as she could get her vocal chords to obey her again. He said nothing, but she saw his gaze flit quickly to his gloves and knew what he was thinking. She rolled her eyes, giving a shrug as best she could with her arms still stuck to the ground. “What Integra doesn't know won't hurt her. Besides, she's in another country.” She knew that she was only playing Devil's Advocate, or maybe a twisted verbal form of Russian roulette—which sentence would hold the bullet? Who knew?

“Well then, if you insist,” he muttered. Before she could rethink her supposed strategy, he allowed himself to collapse on top of her, bony chest squishing her breasts painfully to her ribs as his long serpentine tongue swept up her throat and his teeth tugged at her ear. Biting her lip, she bucked instinctively, but the shadow tendrils held fast and his leg slid up between hers, knee flush with her core as his hands crawled up her body. “Mmma-“ she gasped, “Alucard!”

He drew back, unholy glee lighting his eyes as he bared his teeth in a parody of a grin at her, “What was that, Police Girl?” He purred, fingers trailing along the sides of her breasts, “Were you about to say Master?”

“N-no,” she flushed, squirming, unable to hold his gaze, fingers curling in the grass, unable to muffle her gasp as he tweaked her nipple with his fingers, chuckling darkly.

“Tsk, tsk, Seras. And just after we had that little chat about liars.” She refused to look at him, mortified by her little slip up, until gloved fingers wrapped around her chin and forced her head back to face him, eyes smoldering with an unreadable emotion as he bent over her breasts and licked the fabric of her shirt tauntingly. “Now, you can't tell me you're not enjoying our little heart-to-heart,” he teased, pressing his chest to hers once more.

“I'm—not saying that,” she managed to force out, along with a smile that she was sure looked more strained than inviting. Her plan was already going up in smoke, just because she was a bad actress. Not that she minded him touching her like that… but there was a time and place for everything, and now was not the time!

“Well, if you really want this, don't just lay there like a dead fish,” he scolded, knee thrusting against her pelvis, her entire body jerking up the grass with a combined grunt-gasp escaping her lips. She gaped at him indignantly, and before she could formulate a response, he sneered at her, “Or you could humor me and start resisting again.”

Her expression went flat, even as he pressed more of his bony weight into her fleshy center, back arching to escape the uncomfortable feeling. “Ah. No. Don't. Please stop.” She spoke in a monotone, spite lighting a cold fire in her blue eyes that dared him to retaliate. His messy hair flew as his head was tossed back in a bark of laughter, the shadows tying her to the ground loosening the slightest bit as the vampire king was distracted by his mirth. She bit her lip, holding back her own laughter. The action didn't go unnoticed.

“Tell me, little comedian: what's so funny now?” he jeered, his hands kneading her hips. She shook her head, looking away from him and over the training fields, where the grass still waved lazily in the breeze.

“You are… you fool.” A rustle in the grass caught his attention and he turned his head to see what she was looking at, his brow knitting in puzzlement. She snickered as he played directly into her trap; her own shadows, lying in wait, sprang up on her other side and hit him in the back of the head with enough force to tear him off of her. His shadows, already loosened, were cut like thread by her own sharp tendrils; however, she flung herself with him, tackling him and rolling twice before forcing him up, her fingers tangled punishingly in his hair.

“Idiot,” she hissed, “you broke your own rules. Wasn't that the first thing you taught me? Never take your eyes off the enemy, don't get distracted and fall into a trap, and the most important—yes, the pinnacle of teaching, the one that got me beaten up time and time again—don't underestimate your opponent?” She spoke with a giddy, breathless laughter, sounding near-hysterical. “Well, you underestimated me, Alucard! I bet you didn't think the little Police Girl would be able to pull the wool over your eyes, did you? Did you!?”

The entire time she spoke, his head had been pulled to the side by the force of her hold on his hair. His eyes never broke contact with hers, the light within them gleaming with some strange emotion that was a mix of irritation and pride. When she was quiet, he finally smiled with something akin to satisfaction.

“You really are trying to get me off, aren't you?” he asked with a leer, but the cold intensity behind his earlier words was gone, and Seras felt that he was pleased with her performance. She was about to make a snappy retort when something caught her eye. The shadows on his face were deeper on one side than the other, and for a moment she couldn't figure out why. Then the answer came with a start and she looked off to see the sun beginning to peek over the horizon, the sky becoming the cool gray of dawn.

“It's the sun,” she said unnecessarily, dropping his head. “You tosser—I had things to do! I didn't want to fight you all night!” she protested angrily, lips tight. “Well, in any case, I guess it's off to bed,” she added to herself, preparing to call Pip away from his little hound-icide.

“You're surrendering?” Alucard asked with an air of disappointment. “After all that, you're just going to give up and go to bed?” She looked at him strangely.

“The sun's up,” she repeated, as if he were too stupid to realize it. “I'm not getting a burn fighting you outside in the daylight.”

“Who said anything about outside?” Seras squinted at him suspiciously.

“Integra would kill us if we trashed the manor.” She spoke slowly, as if addressing a particularly dimwitted child, one hand on her hip, blonde brow arched expectantly. Shadows swirled at Alucard's feet, spreading outwards mockingly slowly.

“The basement levels are specially reinforced, Police Girl,” he lectured, ignoring her barbs. She smacked his shadows away with her own, backing up and shaking her head.

“Oh, no you do—ah!” She was cut off as a shadowy tendril managed to sneak behind her and caught her ankle, dragging her down. Her stomach decided to stay behind and she closed her eyes against the wave of nausea, letting out a muffled grunt when she collided with something hard. “No!” she yelled again when he landed on top of her. “Not in the house! Not in my bedroom! You're going to tear everything to bits!”

“We just keep managing to come full circle, don't we?” he said, ignoring her tirade as he settled above her again, pinning with his hands instead of shadows. “Now, I believe that you were just about here—“ He put her hand back in his hair, closing her fingers around the strands, “and I was about to be here,” he continued, his hand leaving hers in his hair to slide up her tank. She sputtered frantically, but before she could manage to find a plausible excuse—

Ring… ring… ring…

“Leave it,” he ordered, burying his face in her neck and scraping the corner of one fang teasingly over her jugular. She shook her head, but he grabbed her hand before she could even reach for the phone. Her shadows seized it instead and she managed to hold him off long enough to see the ID picture flashing on the screen.

“Let go, its Sir Integra… I mean it! Stop!” she squeaked, pushing his face back as she answered the phone and glaring at him pointedly as she spoke. “ Hello, Sir! How's the conference?”

“Don't give me that bull, Police Girl,” Integra barked, making her jump as the loud voice accosted her eardrum. “What is Alucard doing? I know he's up to something, no matter how badly he's trying to hide it from my mind.”

“What-whatever do you mean?” she replied with a cringing sort of cheer, as if sounding happy would automatically make everything hunky-dory.

“Seras, don't try to deny it. I know he's got something planned. He's not… he's not forcing himself on you, is he?” Seras' smile froze and her gaze flitted quickly to him seated on the ground beside her with a vexed frown.

“No, he's sitting right beside me, minding his own business,” she answered—it wasn't a lie, he was sitting beside her and minding his own business at the moment. As for earlier, well… it was like she said: what Integra didn't know wouldn't hurt her (although she could clearly guess it). “Police Girl,” Integra's pitch dropped warningly, “I may be old but I'm not blind, or deaf, I know when that damned vampire of yours acts up.” “He's not mine!” Seras protested, “He's yours, Sir.” She added, glancing pointedly at him from the corner of her eye, not wanting to claim any sort of responsibility for her Sire's actions. He put a hand to his chest in a mockery of a bow, leering at her menacingly as his other hand crept towards her leg.

"Don't think I don't know what you're trying to pull!” Integra snapped. “I'm not an idiot, you know! Alucard, I know you can hear me.” There was no room for argument or feigned ignorance. “Do you need me to remind you what I told you when you brought her here? No molesting!" Seras bit her lip to muffle a laugh as Alucard rolled his ginger eyes theatrically at the voice of his master on the line.

“Really now, my master: `molesting' implies she doesn't want it.” They both heard the distinct sound of Sir Integra Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing's cigar snapping.

"You never did this sort of thing with my father!" She sounded terribly put-out and Seras couldn't help but feel a little sympathy for the poor old woman.

"To be fair, he always had enough women around as it was. I didn't need to bring him any." Seras fought a laugh, amused by the soap opera-esque banter going on between the two.

“Do you think this is funny?” Integra shouted at Seras this time. “I'm trying to protect you, and you're sitting there laughing! What's gotten into you?” Seras' expression fell into a chastised pout, despite the fact that the Heiress couldn't see it through the phone.

“Sorry, Sir,” she mumbled, “but I can take care of myself.” Perhaps to contradict her point, Alucard's wandering hand reached her thigh and squeezed, taking unholy delight in how she jumped and muffled a squeak of alarm.

“Seras,” Integra growled, then her tone softened the slightest bit, “do I need to order that red clad maniac to his room?” Tempted, Seras hesitated, but then she remembered how he acted to her supposed “surrender” at the rising of the sun, and knew that his retaliation for being sent to his room like a naughty child would be far worse than finishing their little quarrel after Sir Hellsing was satisfied that her pet vampires were getting along and not destroying her house.

“No, Sir.” Seras answered solemnly. “Everything is fine. Go back to sleep,” she half ordered, half pleaded with the aged woman. “I promise he can't do anything to me. You can rest easy,” she added in a joking way, her hand grabbing Alucard's and squeezing the wrist so tightly that the bone broke in her fingers with a muffled snap.

“Are you sure?”

“Go to bed, Sir. You don't want those young men getting the jump on you in the morning!” Seras said before hanging up and cutting the woman's reply off. “Can you not behave for five damn minutes!” she snarled, shaking his arm and making the wrist flop in directions it was never meant to go.

“Not around you, clearly,” was his snark reply. She shook her head and huffed, a blush rising to her cheeks.

“How about we call an armistice and settle this tomorrow with—oh, I don't know—an arm wrestling match or something?”

“You want to wrestle, Police Girl?” He purred lasciviously, shadows winding around her hips, jerking her forward into his lap. She squawked in protest, palms pressed flat to his chest to keep some distance between them, a flush on her cheeks.

“I said an arm wrestle you pervert! Even you can't make that sexual!”

“Is that a challenge?” He murmured, leaning in to nuzzle her neck again. She hissed, one hand moving to cup his throat, pushing him up and away from her.

“Damnit, no!” Exhaustion tugged at her bones as the sun rose higher and higher in the sky. In the back of her mind she knew Pip and the hounds had stopped their fighting when they moved their little quarrel inside. “Look, I'm tired, you're being a perverted ass. Let's go to sleep and we can continue this tomorrow.” She tried to sound commanding, but cringed inwardly at the hint of a pleading whine in her words. Damnit, she knew better than to show weakness in front of him!

“Alright, if you insist,” he sighed, the breath wafting over her skin. She sagged in relief, only to tense up when he pulled them both into her coffin and shut the lid. “We'll go to sleep, and first thing tomorrow we'll pick up where we left off.” His arms tightened around her and he chuckled when she tried to break free of his iron hold. Finally she gave up and fell to grumbling under her breath.

“You're just so literal, aren't you?”

Afterword: Another one that I've been working on for months, with Ketti's help. We got it done, today! :D