Chapter Text
Batter my heart, three-person'd God, for you
As yet but knock, breathe, shine, and seek to mend;
That I may rise and stand, o'erthrow me, and bend
Your force to break, blow, burn, and make me new.
--
London, England
1999
Alucard had been to South America before. Integra knew as much from her father’s journals, which Walter had presented to her on her eighteenth birthday. She did not read them immediately, although the temptation was there every time she glanced at the leather-bound notebooks. They held the last vestiges of the father she had never truly known.
Yet even at eighteen, Integra held remarkable self-restraint, and she did not devour them all at once. Instead, she chose to read entries only when situations to which they were pertinent arose. Integra did read certain portions that very night—the earliest entries, in which Sir Arthur Hellsing described his confirmation as the leader of the Hellsing Organization, and his inheritance of the servant he called only “Alucard.”
Sir Arthur’s daughter might have read those first descriptions of Alucard more than once, and her breath and heartbeat might have come a bit faster each time she did so. But she stopped there. Someday the time would be right to read the rest of the journals, up to the last where perhaps Sir Arthur had recorded his plans and hopes for Integra’s future as the head of Hellsing. . . and as the master of Alucard.
Now, with Alucard, Seras Victoria, and Captain Bernadotte en route to Rio de Janeiro, Integra decided a journal-reading situation had arisen. Sir Arthur had written out a rough index to each volume, and she used it to find the entries he’d penned about Alucard’s mission to South America. Integra could have guessed the date even without the index—1946, just after the end of the war. She could have guessed the purpose of the mission, too. Alucard had gone to Buenos Aires, Argentina, hunting not for vampires but for escaped Nazis.
Integra passed the tense hours of waiting by reading about how her father had ordered Alucard to pursue members of the Nazi organization Millennium—the same organization, in fact, whose name Jan Valentine had gasped with his dying breath as a final taunt. These members had allegedly fled to Argentina and been welcomed by newly-elected president Juan Perón with open arms.
At first, Integra was no more or less intrigued by these journal entries than by any others. However, she was surprised to learn that Alucard had failed to track down any of his quarry; then she was almost frightened when she read an aside from her father, who had otherwise related events in a straightforward manner:
I pause here, for I do not know how to describe what A. did find there, when he came to the city of Buenos Aires just before returning to London. Buenos Aires—good air, pure air. . . from pure air, a horror descended, a horror even greater than Alucard! Of course, I did not see it myself, and A. refused to speak of it again, once he had filed his official report. I believe he’s embarrassed to be outdone, and arrogant bastard that he is, he pretends it did not happen.
Integra paused as well to ponder the strangeness of it all. Her father shrinking back from anything, much less something he never even saw for himself. . . and Alucard meeting his match. Still, the ghost of a smile crossed her lips at Sir Arthur’s assessment of his servant’s behavior. The “arrogant bastard” refusing to speak of his failures—she knew that behavior well.
She began to read once more and did not stop until she came to the end of the entry several pages later. Then Sir Integra Hellsing sat back in her father’s chair and stared at the phone sitting silently on his desk. How much longer until Alucard and the others reached Rio de Janeiro? How long after that until he called to report his success—or his failure?
How long until I know he’s all right? she wondered. Alucard would be a thousand miles away from Buenos Aires, but even a thousand miles wasn’t enough if her father had written the truth.
--
Rio de Janeiro
1999
After he had destroyed the hapless humans sent into the hotel to kill him, Alucard called Integra’s direct telephone line. She answered quickly.
“Who is this?” Integra demanded. “Foe? Friend?”
“It’s your servant, Integra,” he purred. Whether that meant foe or friend, he left for her to decide. “Orders. . . give me your orders. My Master.”
“Alucard! Explain—explain the situation,” stammered Integra. He heard fear in her voice, and he knew she knew what had happened. He knew she was stalling. He’d wanted better from her, but she was still only human. Even the police girl had had such doubts, and she was turned. Alucard reminded himself not to expect perfection from his Master, although she exhibited it nine times out of ten.
He told her, “As you no doubt know, immediately following our arrival at the hotel, we were besieged. Their reach extends further than we thought. Our moves are being read. A specialized police unit attempted an infiltration just now.”
When Alucard stopped speaking and did not continue, Integra ventured, “So. . . what happened?”
“I killed them. I exterminated them. Down to the last man.” He smiled into the phone and repeated, “Now, Integra, give me your orders.”
He waited, but she did not speak. He pictured her staring down at the phone, or at Walter, as if either would tell her what to say. Neither would, so Alucard began talking again, drawing out the response he wanted from her.
“The higher-ups of the police force are probably controlled by them. However, the ones who were just following their orders to break in here. . . the ones I killed and will try to kill again are just typical ignorant humans. I can kill them. I can massacre them without even a bit of hesitation, an ounce of regret. Because I am a monster.”
Alucard paused and thought of her, imagined how her face must look just then, before he finished: “What about you. . . Integra?”
Still, she said nothing.
Alucard spoke faster with urgent need, “I will wield the gun. I will also determine its aim. I will put the ammo in the magazine, pull the slide, even undo the safety. But what will kill them is your intent. So, what are my orders?! Hellsing Director Integral Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing!”
He waited again, with nothing else left to say. His Master so rarely disappointed him, yet her silence troubled him. Something was different, something had frightened her and made her hesitate. Maybe this time, she’d fail. Maybe this time, his marble idol would crack and crumble under the pressure of human bodies slaughtered and human souls set free, all by her order—all in her name.
Still, she said nothing—to Alucard, at least. He heard her voice muffled by distance, asking Walter for a cigar; heard their footsteps and the rumble of Walter’s reply. Alucard pictured her holding the cigar lightly between her white teeth, pointed downward and resting against her lower lip—then biting down a second later just as he heard the slap of her gloved hands smacking down on her desk.
“Do not toy with me, servant!” Integra bellowed over the phone. “I’ve given you your orders! Nothing has changed! Search and destroy! Search and destroy! Any force which hinders us is to be crushed underfoot! Do not run or hide, but go and attack them head on! All obstacles are to be reduced into dust and ash!”
Alucard cackled with pleased laughter. She hadn’t cracked after all, and now she probably never would.
“Rogerrrrr,” he purred when he managed to stop laughing. “Yes, that’s the last fig leaf taken off! How splendid! It gives me a stirring in my loins, Integra!”
She did not have to reply for Alucard to imagine just how much he’d pissed her off, and that pleased him even more—not just that she had proven herself a true Hellsing, but that she’d gotten so angry about it. How dare he think she might rescind her orders! How dare he make crude, suggestive remarks to Hellsing's chaste, virginal director!
The marble idol hadn’t cracked, she had caught fire, and she was at her best when she was burning.
Having gotten what he wanted, Alucard ended the conversation so he could proceed in following his Master's orders: “I’ll leave now. Watch me closely, Sir Hellsing!”
--
To be continued