Hellsing Fan Fiction ❯ Servant's Night Off ❯ Going Out Again ( Chapter 2 )

[ P - Pre-Teen ]

It’s me again. I’ve resurrected my muse through unholy means and am enjoying it greatly. Toodles.

“How was your evening?” Integra lit a cigar before leaning back in her chair.
Walter smiled with genuine satisfaction. He was quite pleased with the prior night’s accomplishments. It was an immense ego boost to know that he still had the touch. “I had a nice time.”
Integra shot him a triumphant look. “You see Walter, it wasn’t all that bad. You really should get out more.” She flipped through some paperwork, somewhat ignorant of the irony of her words. She looked up at Walter lazily. “Yes Walter, I really did just suggest that you should make a habit of going out more.”
Walter sighed and a bothersome little thought surfaced. Anderson might be in town for a little longer. If he dealt with the priest again, who knew what positive results he might gain? Well, and the small fact that he’d reacquired the taste for the naughty little joy of drinking.
“Well…then how does tonight sound, Sir Integra? We have no urgent scheduled affairs.”
Integra almost dropped her cigar. A slow grin of realization spread across her face. It was kind of scary… “Why Walter, did you meet someone interesting last night?” she inquired in a sugary tone.
Walter gulped down his discomfort very adroitly. “One could say that,” Father Anderson was indeed, very fascinating, just not in the way Sir Integra was implying. The butler backed up a little, trying not to think about the thoughts running through Sir Integra’s head. That was wrong. Terribly, terribly wrong.
“Really Walter, is this someone you’d like to bring home?” Integra smirked, taking much pleasure from teasing her butler. How often did one get to grill their parent-figure over his dating preferences.
“No,” Walter said a little too quickly. He hung his head, not in shame, as Sir Integra might have imagined. No, he was desperately trying to conceal the fit of hysterical laughter that threatened to erupt from his chest.
“Shame on you!” Integra scolded, laughing. “Really Walter, I can only envision you when you were young, you rogue!”
“Oh he was quite the lady-killer,” another voice interrupted. As if things couldn’t get worse, that thrice-damned Arucard appeared. A true Cheshire grin was plastered to his undead features. “Yes, special agent Walter Cumm Ddolneazz, you should have seen his little black book. There never was an evening when he was without female-”
“Now Arucard, that is terribly ungentlemanly of you, revealing a man’s secrets and slips of youth before a lady. Careful, I might have to recount some of your adventures as well…” Walter amazingly managed to keep his composure as they prepared to thoroughly roast him.
Integra raised a brow and looked back at Arucard who had suddenly become very quiet. “Oh really, Arucard?” Her voice held a dangerously inquisitive note.
“Yes master?” He responded dryly.
There was a long period of agonizing silence as the two men squirmed beneath Integra’s gaze.
“Well then, the library really need to be aired out,” Walter began.
“And the police girl probably needs saving…” Arucard finished.
“Go one, get out of here!” Sir Integra growled, a wicked grin forming on her face. She didn’t have the time to expend on interrogating them. Oh, she would find out eventually…
Both men retreated, Walter through the door; Arucard through the floor.
Walter sighed in relief as he shut the thick double oak doors behind him. Sometimes Sir Integra could be so…unsettling. That damned Nosferatu had taught her too well. He inwardly blanched as he turned to find himself nose to nose with that specific, aforementioned, damned, Nosferatu.
“Really Shinigami, I was simply jesting. No need to reveal my skeletons…”
“You have so many,” the Englishman responded wryly. “How could I hope to encompass them all?”
“Oh,” Arucard lowered his glasses a bit so he could look Walter in the eye. “But you know just enough to be dangerous.” He tilted his head back and waited for Walter’s next move.
Walter shrugged innocently. “Quid pro quo, Sir Arucard. You don’t mention my indulgences, I don’t tell about yours.”
Arucard shook his head. “Really, I was jesting. No need to be so defensive; a smooth operator such as yourself would be bound to leave behind a trail of trysts, broken hearts, and even a few whelps, here and there.”
“…Better babies than corpses,” Walter said offhand. “Besides, I was always fairly cautious.”
Arucard laughed. “Yes, those were the days, Shinigami. A war raged on, with an abundance of blood, the charm of desperate fatalism, and a lifestyle that I have been denied for over forty years. It was a splendid time. You were young…I fed on live food daily…life, or unlife, was good.”
Walter stared.
Arucard continued, a suspicious lilt in his voice that led the Englishman to believe that the vampire was not joking. “Yes, those were fine days, Shinigami. We should get together some time. Discuss and reminisce the days of your youth.”
Walter stared some more.
“We’ll go drinking, Shinigami, to see if you can still hold ungodly amounts of liquor.” Or to see if his senility was kicking in.
Walter opened his mouth, but Arucard roughly clapped his hand on Walter’s shoulder.
“Don’t overexert yourself, Shinigami,” Arucard smirked maliciously as he faded out.
Walter stood there, unsure which earlier occurrence was more disturbing. Arucard verbalizing nostalgia? Sir Integra inquiring about his sex life?
Walter wiped his brow. Yes, he’d definitely go out tonight. He really needed another drink.

Anderson sharpened his trowels idly. Mindless. It was a task bereft of any conscious thought; so the priest drifted in and out of la la land. The night before had been exceptionally extraordinary. That butler was truly a character. Maybe he could get some useful data out of the man.
Unlikely. The man, Walter, was far too cunning to slip up.
Anderson sighed. OK, maybe he could be honest with himself. He enjoyed good company. Life was lonely and Enrico Maxwell was a lousy drinking buddy. Dumb arse, bless his soul. That paper pushing priest could never hope to outdrink a regenerator.
Anderson scowled and rubbed the blade against the whetstone harder. Being a paladin, especially a berserking lone operative, was incredibly lonely. He had no common interests with the other fathers of his parish. Yes, you heard a heinous confession today, if you think that’s something, last night, I impaled a zombie on a flagpole. And the children, as much as he loved them, there was no way to communicate the anxieties of his lifestyle to children. The other Iscariots thought he was bloody bonkers- not far from the truth, but they had no room to talk. None whatsoever.
As much as he hated to admit it, yes, he needed some serious downtime. He hadn’t taken a breather in ages. Anderson began looking around for his cell phone. As he placed the trowels on the bed, he noted the needle-thin slivers that remained. Perhaps he really did have some anger issues?
Blasphemy.

Walter pulled on his overcoat and straightened his collar. No spiffy uniform tonight. He’d managed to look like a classy rogue in a white button down shirt and black pants. OK, no spiffy vest.
Still, he was dressed down and Seras Victoria gave him a funny look as she came up the stairs.
“Going out again, Walter?” she asked, not a little surprised.
“Why yes, Sir Integra thinks it necessary for me to find occasional recreation.”
“She’s right, you work to hard. Have a nice time, Walter,” Seras said cheerfully.
Walter nodded politely as he left for the garage.
Why did everyone have to act so surprised?


More to come. God help us. Every one.