Introduction 8

An unexpected roar shattered his tame composure, and a frontward kick embedded his boot in her gut. She choked, and her eyes gaped in astonishment. The blunt impact knocked her off her feet, and suddenly he was the one to advance, she was forced to recover and defend. But she held her ground in the torn earth as Hellsing's rapier impaled her shoulder, deflected by her dagger – and, anticipating his strategy, she swung the blade to parry the second attack, halting Hellsing's dagger before it could plunge into her heart. The piecing impact of ringing metal grated against Abraham's ears and he growled at the spike of pain that drilled into his forearms. The two bodies detached and then lunged at one another, thrusts and slashes, parries, shoves, and even fists whirling motion in their turbulent exchange. The blows grew heavier with each collision, her blade grew crisper. Hellsing's only advantages were experience and skill. He was no match for the strength and dexterity of the vampire's deceptively small and slender body.

The sword would be diverted, the dagger would rebound off hers or they would shove themselves apart, and both blades would shudder before they were forced to clash again. The two appeared evenly matched for this instant, but then the man, with a snarl that piqued the sire's feral instincts, slammed his whole weight into a forward thrust, targeting her balance. The shear ferocity in the attack caused her to add an additional step to her retreat when she avoided his rapier. Abraham seized this opportunity and lunged at her, extending his arm - the tip of the rapier reached for the space between her narrowed, crimson eyes. Metal screeched and Hellsing fell off balance as her dagger scraped down the length of his sword and pushed the rapier aside, finally stopped as it struck the hilt. The impact left his right hand numb past his wrist and sent a tremor through his bones, as if his blow had landed against an anvil.

An awkward step to the side corrected his balance, and Hellsing panted; his lungs protested, rebelling as they coughed out the icy air he gasped. He swallowed, and perspiration slipped from his brow, narrowly missing his eye. Although Abraham's veins bulged with effort, he hissed as his extended arm gave away precious centimeters, bending beneath the sire's strength as she pushed against his sword. Clouds of breath puffed from Abraham's mouth, while her dead lips remained shut and failed to emit even a wisp of vapor. Her breath was as cold as the winter wind that sliced through Abraham's body and froze the sweat on his skin.

In this awkward stance, the Hellsing commander was too slow to withdraw and in the wrong position to defend himself with his dagger. So when the sire's talons swiped at his chest, they cut through the fabric of his coat and, at their deepest, sliced his vest. But they could not reach his skin. Van Hellsing was able to bound nimbly away, unharmed, and, thereafter, he was outside her reach.

When this distance appeared, a soldier drove his bayonet between them and then thrust his rifle towards the sire's undead heart. But fear did not glance over her expression, only acrid annoyance that sharpened her glare. The force of her dagger snapped the bayonet from his gun, ending the immediate threat. But another soldier attacked her from behind, and the sire spun, reaching out a filthy hand– She caught a second rifle before the bayonet could pierce her, halting the soldier's advance. With an abrupt scowl, the sire ripped the rifle from the soldier's hands and swung it to the side with cruel accuracy, in order to club a newcomer. The gun landed against the side of his face – compressing bone and brain as his consciousness skipped seconds, jolted, and then folded. The single man flumped onto the muddy grass. His fall ignited the fuse for his comrades' wrath, their desire for vengeance. Their passion exploded and the men's fury thundered from all corners of the scene, so that the storm in the sky drowned beneath the weight of human cries.

The small sire was overwhelmed by the masses of muscle and steel compressing her, the swarm of soldiers who had come to support their commander and fallen comrade. Sensing that they posed a significant threat, the sire hissed defensively, baring her fangs to show her frustration, and she leapt away to gain some distance before renewing her attack. However, where there should have been open space, she struck a wall – lifeless, glacial… it was adamantine flesh. Wide eyes struggled to both grasp and deny what this obstruction could be as the rigid arms of the No-Life-King clamped down, a vice that was as relentless as the horror that seized the woman sire. It restrained her as she cried out and choked. Her ribs caved; her lungs and heart, squelched. She writhed. Kicked. Her head beat against the solid chest while she gagged – held firmly in place, though the mud that plastered her hair and body ran onto the arms and caked the demon's rags. There was nothing that could loosen this hold.

Crying out in pain, her eyes shut. Blindly, her trembling fingers flipped the dagger in her fist to change her grip, and she growled and choked on blood, then on agony. She shrieked as she stabbed the dagger into the monster. Sharp steel plunged again and again, merciless as it punctured, sliced, and mutilated the monster's hip and side. Red gore was visible and blood ran freely over Alucard's leg to coat the rags and paint a greyed boot. Her desperation fueled more destruction, and yet, Alucard's chuckle rippled over her spine. Beyond the grasps of composure, the sire gnashed her fangs so that they grew more beastly and vile. She released her anguish in an unrepressed howl, and cursed the monster obscenely as she fought against its physical power. Her muscles bulged, her tendons reached out of her skin. Scarlet eyes shone as jaw muscles arched and capillaries ruptured. Above this horror - this creature in the throes of her angst – the Vampire Alucard wore a grin so savage, so repulsive, that it surpassed any mortal depiction of the Devil's visage, no matter how deeply they had dared to delve into the Abaddon of their most wretched imaginings. Gradually, the Nosferatu tightened the constricting embrace, relishing the sounds and feelings of her bones slipping from their sockets and her muscles tearing loose as she remained pressed against the demon's chest. They seemed to pop beneath the membrane of her skin. The demon wallowed in her rage, listening to the tenor that deepened her roar and halted any man who had attempted to pursue her while she was caught in the Vampire Alucard's arms.

Alucard leaned forward, pressing down on her shoulders. Cold lips crept through her hair; they grazed her ear. Then an undead cheek rested against her head, ignoring the grime and slivers of grass in her matted hair. The sire snarled with loathing while Alucard hummed, absolutely delighted by her responses, "I will keep you." The demon crooned in a hushed whisper that played with strands of her hair. She wrenched her head away in disgust, but was pulled back, seething and yowling deep in her throat. The Vampire Alucard's mouth spread with its fanged, voracious grin. "You will be mine to have – he will not have the chance to touch you. I will have swallowed you whole."

Her outraged curse was lost in a shriek of pure abhorrence and repulsion. A surge of strength in her limbs caused the muscles in Alucard's arms to strain – slightly. The monster would not yield. Then, without due cause to expect more from her, the Vampire Alucard had no response other than mute bewilderment when it felt and heard the female's neck pop, felt and saw her head slump forward. While Alucard questioned whether the embrace had been the cause of this phenomenon, her head rose like that of a weaving snake, and her face twisted upwards, it revolved so completely that her eyes met the befuddled stare of the Vampire Alucard.

Her jaws sprung open with a raspy, guttural hiss that resembled a groan, and bare fangs struck out at the Nosferatu's shoulder. Alucard shoved the sire away before the fangs could meet their mark, and let her limp body slap heavily against the mud. There, her body twitched unnaturally, squirmed and created hollows in the earth that oozed water, forming small pools. Watching quietly with its lips drawn into a bemused smile, the Vampire Alucard saw the buttons of her vertebrae return and realign in her neck, where they snapped and cracked into place.

Magnificent. Close – develop her more – she would become something splendid, yes. …More. Show me something grander, show me a miracle.

The sire's dagger was still embedded in Alucard's hip. The creature drew it out now before the sire could recover, and, seeing movement, slammed a boot into her back as she began to raise herself. The Vampire Alucard pressed down as it crouched on her shoulder blade, just enough to keep her still. The demon did not want her to sink too far, but since the earth was fixed on swallowing as much of the female as it could, Alucard's hand swept across the back of her neck, as if brushing off a flee, and the dagger passed through her flesh with ease.

Decapitated, the sire lay limp in the mud, face down. Unmoving. Alucard rose, eyes fixed on her, observing. Van Hellsing approached and other men followed him, though most remained where they stood quietly, watching. Van Hellsing stood over the body, his brow beginning to scrunch, his mouth a forming frown – his eyes beginning to register... Her body was full - not dust, not bone. He saw that inches separated her head from the base of her neck, and yet an impression of movement on the ground touched his vision. Instinctively, Abraham's foot tried to move out of the way, but it was impeded by the clutch of the mud that fused it to the earth. The mud immobilized his boot, resisted his muscles, and allowed true alarm to strengthen Abraham's need to retrieve his foot as he clearly saw an undead arm slide over the mud towards him. No one other than Alucard noticed the movement before the inch long claws had lodged themselves into the tip of Abraham's boot.

The men reacted with alarm, lungs seized –a weak scent of blood, then the rearing thirst, throbbing, resounding in the demon skull- Van Hellsing tearing his foot free –men striding forward- But the Vampire Alucard, dueling an escalating bloodlust that was fueled by the fumes of Hellsing's blood, had already stamped the sire's arm into the slew of mud and grass. The leg of the sire's body slipped as she tried to get up, her head still sunken, face immersed in sludge. As the body made simple movements in its attempts to stand, the Vampire Alucard mentally applauded each twitch – the demon grin expanding. The vampire's worn boot withdrew as Alucard laughed and moved back to get a better view of her efforts.

Van Hellsing was beside Alucard, unharmed beyond two shallow incisions in his foot. When he spoke, his voice showed only composure, though anger dwelt beneath his words. "Keep it restrained. I don't want to offer it another chance to injure someone or escape. We will take it into the labs-" There was a pause as Abraham sensed Alucard's inaction and noticed that his men had begun to follow his commands. He scowled at his slave and began to repeat his order, addressing the demon directly this time – but Alucard's chuckle interrupted him. There was a shout of disbelief somewhere to Hellsing's left, coming from one of the new soldiers. Inquisitive, Abraham returned his attention to the body and found it hunched over, on its knees, the head reattached. And now scarlet eyes rose, peering at him through a mask of slipping mud-

A soldier's sword whistled through the air, but the sire allowed it to sink into her open palm. Clenching, though her arm was twisted and mangled, she held it there. Her eyes had not left Hellsing's. Blood that encircled her neck bubbled softly against her skin, and for a moment, Hellsing watched, entranced by the boiling red.

Snarling like a cornered animal, the female lunged from her knees, her hand slipping free of the sword. Her bones were still realigning as she grasped weakly for some part Van Hellsing. The graceless assault was intercepted by Alucard, which was something the sire had expected. With one boot digging into the mud, she pushed up with a surprising amount of power, and sent a blow into the Nosferatu's gut that forced the larger body back. The men retreated quickly by whatever path was available, to make way for the resumed battle. But it never became a battle, it was merely a display of stubbornness. Alucard was the superior monster. It had been made clear. This next stage in that night's source of entertainment served only to satiate the No-Life-King's curiosity.

The Vampire Alucard flicked away her blows as if she were a kitten pawing for affection, and the two vampires moved sluggishly over the lawn, further demolishing the esthetic charm the grassy plot had previously held as their boots left gashes and bleeding scars that formed tiny ponds in their wake. Abraham did not approve of Alucard prolonging the battle. They still did not know whether another fledgling or a pack of ghouls might arrive – though the pack of mindless ghouls seemed improbable at this point. Hellsing was cautious, though the female had never called to any companion for aid. "Finish this now. We are not here to play with it. Capture the vampire or kill it." Blue followed the vampires' movements over the lawn. Seconds passed; the lawn gained more scars. Van Hellsing's patience waned and his order boomed with the threat of an unspoken punishment. [He had not seen the change.]

"Do it now."

All action came to a halt. Silence flooded the lawn, brief yet powerful as it altered the scene it receded from, riding upon a nauseating, rage-filled scream that scattered startled looks and unease among the men. Alarm bloomed in Van Hellsing's face, and his tongue tripped over words. The sire screamed incessantly, the final note of her concluding struggle - caught in the Vampire Alucard's jaws with her head fixed in place as her body resisted and her hands clawed. The sire's desperation soared while Alucard swallowed mouthfuls of her blood… blood that was drawn from her veins… pulling against the tide of a dead circulation that consists mostly of stagnation. Her voice split. The shrieks were roughening with the hatred that was mounting, wheezing the curses that damned the monster.

Another was also caught in the midst of boiling rage. Van Hellsing strode forward, incapable of speech while his features were hardened in place by his fury. Livid and swift in action, he said nothing as he thrust his bare sword through his slave's side, the blade sinking deep into the vampire's body.

Automatically, Alucard's jaws released its tempting prey. Dull red rolled in the undead eye sockets until they found Master Van Hellsing at the other end of the pain that speared its belly. The ivory teeth were dyed orange-crimson, and more blood stained the pale lips and the sides of Alucard's mouth. A disturbing haze distanced the demon's gaze - miles beyond the Hellsing estate, centuries past, where the lust for blood had originated. Blind with hunger, the demon stood, holding the sire against its chest possessively, clutching her as if the demon's whole existence depended upon this single meal. While the blind eyes had turned to Van Hellsing and had seen him at first, within the thickening haze, they could no longer identify him. The Vampire Alucard could not perceive why it had stopped feeding. It detected a feeble human beside it, but that was no reason to stop. 'Master' flitted through its consciousness, and then the man's name, but a name and a single mortal meant nothing. There was food in its arms. It should feed. It was holding a source of nourishment, power – sustenance it needed.

I must drink.

The blade was pulled from Alucard's side. But as soon as it left the seared undead tissue, the demon leaned towards the sire to resume feeding, oblivious of the outrage that colored Van Hellsing's face and the fury of the thrashing female who whipped her head wildly.

"Hör mal auf!"

Alucard froze. The haze burned away. The molten light of the demon's eyes shone. It saw Master Van Hellsing, heard his deep throated growl – knew that Master Van Hellsing was displeased-

"Zurücktreten!"

Following the order, the vampire released its prey and stepped away from her as she collapsed. The bleeding sire fell, and Van Hellsing stepped forward at once, raised his sword above her spine, and thrust it down with a snarl. She screamed, hands pushing at the mud and tearing at the grass, beating the earth she was impaled against. The smoke was taken by the wind as the silver burned the female sire. Her hands were driven deep into the soil, and her face buried itself in the clinging earth, smothering her screams. Van Hellsing assessed to what degree she was incapacitated. Men were at hand, waiting for orders.

Hellsing considered the possibilities for a moment, and then spoke, watching the squirming form. "Dismember it. Remove the arms, the legs. …Fetch a muzzle and the mercury. I do not want to take any chances. If the mercury kills it, then so be it. A loss, but one we can afford. It must be weakened much more than it is now."

"Yes Sir. I'll have a man bring one of the surgeons. We will immobilize her, so he can work on her safely." The captain nodded as Hellsing thanked him and then passed the order onto a nearby soldier.

Abraham observed this, and spoke. "Have two other men accompany him. They will work faster, and we should not assume all is over simply because one vampire has been defeated."

The captain nodded again, and the small group was sent off. As activity swirled around the female sire, soldiers were dispatched to the manor to inform the rest of the men of what had happened. Though it was likely the men had been watching from the windows, the night was dark, and clouds were thickening over the moon and starlight.

Someplace where silence could settle in this bundle of activity, the Vampire Alucard stood, arms limp at its sides, barren eyes fixed on the sire lying in the mud where she was pinned by Van Hellsing's rapier. This did not change when Abraham stopped in front of the creature.

Abraham's voice was hard. "Scout the perimeter. Come to me at dawn. If you encounter another vampire, disable it, or behead it-" He muttered something through gritted teeth, and scowled at Alucard's dull expression before continuing, "–in such a way that it is dead, not so that it can mend itself immediately." His anger was barely repressed at this point, nostrils flaring as Abraham breathed in the night chill he was now only beginning to remember. His skin was rough, his nerves strived to make him shiver. And his fingers – though gloved - were frozen, his hands were a mixture of numbness and pain, so Abraham breathed on them to make them a bit warmer, and then moved them to his pockets since this was more convenient. His injured foot throbbed.

Observing Alucard at this close proximity was never pleasant, but a wisp of interest had wafted into the man's mind. It was a thought that made Hellsing scowl, so he pushed it away and shifted his weight off of his injured foot, growing even more aware of the cold as he shivered. It wouldn't have surprised him if the mud froze by morning.

"Go now. Come if you are called. If nothing more happens tonight, find me at dawn – you will be permitted to go upstairs to my room in the manor, I will not be in the barracks tonight. But do not let any of the house servants or my men come across you. Disturb no one."

And with this, the demon left Van Hellsing. The surgeon arrived, and the men arranged the containers, drew blood and stopped up their ears before administering the silver mercury. As the mercury entered her, the piercing agony that rent the night brought Hellsing's attention to the grounds, to the woods, the trees, blue eyes searching for a response. But as the ringing echoes of her cries broke and were lost, nothing moved in the darkness. Pensively, Abraham waited, and the men behind him clenched jaws and fists as the sire's hair whitened to snow, and her skin greyed, her bones rose at sharp angles as her blood was turned to ash, and her veins ignited, burning away like candlewicks through her undead tissue. Then, the ash reached her heart.

Her death was imminent, so they removed the sire quickly and carried her into the labs to begin the experiments. The sire's body crumpled into dust on a bloodied table within a span of two hours.

Later, dawn rose, purple and blushing scarlet against the clouds, and crimson seeped across the horizon.

*~*~::..+..::~*~*

Abraham had not slept when the red dawn opened over his window. And he did not spare it more than a glance. He sat on a dark leather ottoman positioned between a four-poster bed and a dresser which had a mirror mounted on it. The punctured boot was held in his hands, his mind muddled with musings. Blue eyes slipped over the contour of the boot, moving as these mental puzzles were categorized and complimentary pieces were assembled.

The room was composed of a pallet of browns, olives, and grey-greens. The floor was dark, wood – a few shades darker than the color that was featured by the dresser, armoire, and the frame of Hellsing's bed. Above the ottoman hung a landscape painting of the heart of a misty woodland bathed in golden twilight. Small portrait paintings of philosophers and German composers melded into the pale-olive of the walls, among narrow tapestries of dark singular trees, about which dragons of different colors and characters were wound discreetly. One broad tapestry displayed a medieval scene: a knight in golden armor, helmet raised, seated upon his chestnut stead, broad sword sheathed – eyes given to a maiden whose pale arm was extended towards him, otherworldly grace spilling over her face, bright in her pale eyes, shining in her long tresses of flowing starlight hair. There were trees, a glinting river, and a kingdom built before a range of mountains in the background. Many of these had been found in the mansion when it had come into Abraham's possession, though other objects had been gifted or collected over time. The bedchamber had been even more gallant before Abraham had removed much of the gilded luxury. But, in truth, Hellsing rarely retired to this room, and would frequently sleep in his study, wake when he was refreshed, and return to his work. His men knew of this, and so, in lighter times they referred to the study as 'Van Hellsing's bedchamber.' In truth, Abraham did not mind it - since that was what his study had become. Only exhaustion or need for mental repose could place the commander in this room.

Overall, the bedroom was not expansive; it contained enough space to permit Van Hellsing to pace comfortably over the wooden floor and tread on the Indian rug, a patterns of tans that spread over the space at the end of his bed. The curtains were normally a dark olive, but the red rays of the morning sunlight deepened them to black as they passed through the uncovered window panes. Hellsing had watched the grounds and the woods, what little could be seen in the darkness, and had left the window bare before retiring to his ottoman to think and take up his damaged boot. The bedcovers and pillows were also of tans, most shades bordering gold. Beside the bed, on a nightstand a shaded lamp shone upon the pistol Abraham had polished since the time he had dropped it in the mud, hours ago.

Reflecting the light like a clear mirror as it lay beside the gun, Abraham's silver pocket watch rested on the nightstand as well, ticking beneath its closed cover. The sound of seconds passing was audible in the quiet, resembling a slow, clockwork heart.

There was no sound in the hallway outside, no weight to creak the floor boards. In silence, Alucard passed through Abraham's door, more specter-like than usual as the blush of the dawn doused the creature in phantom blood. Abraham rose and closed the curtains to dispel the illusion.

The man passed into German naturally once he had returned to the ottoman; his hours of musings had all been in German. This time he left the boot alone where it stood on the floor by his slippered foot. Red eyes had noted the boot, and had recognized it. There were traces of blood in the leather.

Abraham's voice was quiet. "The sire spoke to you before it attacked. But you were not speaking about Hellsing, or myself."

Alucard's face was carved plainly from dead skin and shadow, the room dim, light merely the faint glow of the curtains and the shaded lamp, both set apart from the majority of the room by the width of the unused bed. The Vampire Alucard stood at such an angle that its reflection should have fallen within the frame of Van Hellsing's mirror. But, as no such phenomenon was attached to the demon's person, the mirror showed only the holy and natural creations that were assembled in the room. The demon had responded to its master's statement with nothing, neither movement nor expression arising. Hellsing was hunched, in such a way that showed his conscious thought lay in his mind and not in the worldly present. His hands – now warm and discolored with bruises while his wrists showed minor swelling – were clasped, his elbows on his knees. His gaze had been on the shadows that were gathered near the door, but blue irises rose to the vampire to insist that it respond immediately.

The Nosferatu's voice was quiet, matching Abraham's volume, although it was monotone, while Abraham's tone had been touched by his inward contemplation. It was a familiar dead voice. And it brought forth the chill that pricked at the bones in Abraham's neck. "She spoke of her own thoughts, regarding me. …Not insulting, not when she began – though the change was expected."

"What were these 'thoughts'? Observations? Interest, regarding your purpose in Hellsing?" Abraham's body was tired, and the plainness and patient leisureliness of this exchange, this setting, were unusual. It slowed the vampire's responses. Alucard began to observe its master, as the master observed its servant. The creature sought nothing in particular, not weakness, not thought. It was a general, undirected surveillance of a moment – to gather the experience for a later evaluation.

"Why does this interest you?" The demon murmured. Abraham's temper was inert, so the question was treated as an inquiry without suspected insubordination.

"Why would a conversation between two vampires – both creatures that can survive a decapitation - not interest me? Should anything that can hold your interest not be capable of holding mine?"

The comparison, bringing himself down to the demon's level, was a slip – in Alucard's mind. The beast was standing equal to man within that sentence. The vampire masked its thoughts, and proceeded to satisfy the man's curiosity – gradually, fatigued as the sun rose, the exhaustion building with the strength of the light. The Vampire Alucard had not expected Van Hellsing to question it on this subject, rather it had braced itself for a punishment or to be chastised for how it had behaved during the battle.

"She said that she could not understand what I was, and was confused, yet interested. The woman was curious, that was all. But her claims humored me."

"Claims?" Abraham asked dully, registering Alucard's deliberate slowness, the intended suspense the demon was playing with. It did not amuse Hellsing, but he tolerated it.

"I was accused of misleading you, allowing you to believe that I was a vampire, when I was not."

Abraham stared at Alucard, bemused, and then squinted as he wondered at the reported response and tried to avoid feeling – somewhat unjustly – that it was overwhelmingly stupid. The man shook his head and shrugged his shoulders in a way that sprung a snort from Alucard.

"Most do mistake me for something worse than I am. Though ' worse' is not what I would apply to…the 'unnatural.' A werewolf is not 'worse' than a vampire."

Abraham's wonder and amusement had not faded, his eyes stared into the gloom attached to the wall. "The sire did not seem so afraid."

"She should have been, but she was too proud for fear. There is nothing strange in what she claimed. Most do not wish to associate themselves with something foreign. The living separate themselves from the dead. Weaker creatures see strange and more powerful creatures as monsters, thus monstrosities, the evil foe. Vampires who have not attained equivalent power, view one another differently. Humans do the same. The educated see the uneducated as ignorant. The wealthy see the poor as lazy, wasteful, therefore deserving of their misfortune. An oppressed or unhappy people see their king as a tyrant, and justify extinguishing his bloodline. King Louis XVI was no tyrant, but the people traded him for Robespierre, the Jacobins, for mass butchery and terror. It lacks reason, so it resembles stupidity. But it is not without thought. It is a difference of perspectives."

Abraham viewed the demon, listening to the dry speech that ridiculed history – events that had come decades before Hellsing's birth. This was another aspect of Alucard that interested Abraham – a little - but it was not common for the vampire to willingly discuss matters that were not intentionally offensive or disturbing, or engrossed in the subject of 'true vampires.' This discussion teetered on the border of what the man tolerated. But he was tired and his mood, thoughtful – a little careless. "You could not have disliked a time of calamity, one sunken into madness."

The pale lips parted, then spread to expose the chilling grin the fangs easily produced. However, Alucard knew better than to laugh, and so, contained the urge. Distaste had already risen to Van Hellsing's face, the man rethinking his words. So the vampire distracted him from a path that might lead to punishment, if Hellsing were to recall the night's events. "Vampires flocked to France to lap up their savagery and drain their streets. It is one reason for the great growth in their number. The sire who attacked you was no doubt in some way a result of their revolution, by some chain of descent. And there will only be more in the future, so you will not face idleness in any approaching time."

Blankness had opened Van Hellsing's gaze, sitting upright slowly as his mind gnawed at his slave's words.

Interested in drawing out this reaction, Alucard continued, watching Abraham closely with dim eyes brightening - temporarily. "A billion men now live. More die. More are born, just look at the royal family. Medicine improves, diseases are battered down and the sick are healing. The number will only grow. More humans, more of the undead. Science and weaponry advancing. More violent and devastating wars. More of the undead. The war ends. People compensate for those lost, are drunk on a lust for life, for happiness and family, to reconstruct the lost kindred. More humans. More of the undead. The cycle has always been there. Now it is accelerating."

Yes. Van Hellsing was absorbed, captured – in however minute a way. Alucard swelled with a hollow sense of power. "I have gone decades without seeing another vampire. Here, they are crowded on this island. None know how to establish territories. They hunt openly and terrify potential prey without establishing a functioning system. What you combat is chaos. I seem so divergent, the sire you killed seems so abnormal, because what you are used to is not the way the undead establish a hold in the world."

How the conversation had taken this particular path, the vampire did not bother to question – it did not question the direction it was going – monotone voice and dulling eyes, losing light as the sun cast more of its rays over the estate. Hellsing would not speak, would not dare to interrupt the oddly civil perspective Alucard was presenting to him. The demon never humanized monsters – and for Hellsing they never could be human – but it was a stance Alucard had never before taken with Abraham. It was ridiculous.

"An agreement is maintained with the humans dwelling within the territory, order is kept. They know to stay away, to keep the vampire secret. And so, they will expect minimized contact with the vampire. The territory is large. Unharmed, the vampire need only feed once with every cycle of the moon. Even less, in some cases. Distributed in this way, and with immigrants and travelers passing through, a parish may expect to go a year without a loss. And then they benefit. If raiders come to burn them to the ground, those raiders are challenging the vampire who has laid claim to these people as its own prey. So the vampire guards them."

Abraham was sitting upright, a half-formed smirk twitching before returning to a plain frown. "A sickening and delusional, 'utopian' farce. And a theory I doubt has ever been put to use so smoothly. You take the life of a man's wife or child, he will not thank you for sparing his own."

Alucard did not disagree, speaking with stony features. Eyes as barren as a gargoyle's. The morning was glowing hot, melting red into gold. "There are very few who would thank a vampire – of course all manner of men exist. But the individual is part of a community that is also at risk. There are other men with wives and children who will argue that this one death does not warrant a foolhardy revenge that could lead to the ruin of the entire community. If one man acts out and angers the vampire – and they know he will not succeed in killing it – then they stand to suffer the same loss. They govern themselves. If one cannot be appeased, as when a woman goes mad with the loss of her child, then some system is established – usually to expel the woman, marking her in some way to show she is mad. If it is a man, they may kill him or wound him before allowing him to go to the vampire. It shows their loyalty, in the end."

Hellsing's smirk returned with the pause. "You romanticize tyranny so grotesquely, Vampire. It is bizarre that you would glorify your kind in this way. Vampires are insatiable beasts, killers that drink the blood of human beings, taking the victim's life and even their humanity. I have observed them for years. The majority are violent, caustic, and tactless; unholy creatures that slink in the shadows, full of nothing but evil intentions, hell bent on destruction. They are demons which yearn for Armageddon. Structure and order do not coincide with their natures – only devastation and disorder."

The demon spoke, "But vampires should not feed so recklessly."

Abraham sneered, laughing once. "You want them to gather humans like chattel?"

There was still no anger in Alucard. The sun continued to climb, millimeter upon millimeter. "It would have been nothing for me to have emptied London of its inhabitants in a single night. It would be easy to burn down a forest and relish the warmth of the blaze. But it is not applicable. Destroy a city. Lay waste to humanity. Conquer and rule humanity. All possible – but also impossible. Why do it? Will it change the taste of blood? Why exceed one's thirst to that degree? There is a limit to indulgence. Nothing is insatiable – a man's greed is dead when he is ash. Desire will expire with the limit of mortality. And with immortality, there is no rush – patience stems these. The perspective has changed…

"I was more destructive as a man than as a vampire, because I had cause to hate other men - I thirsted for power, for a legacy - I could not benefit from the lives of the insignificant. All human lusts were replaced with the lust for blood. I do not need women. I do not need wealth. I need none of this. Blood is pleasure, food, and desire. All else - entertainment. Treasures and a castle - nostalgia. Claiming something material, just to possess it - establish a hold, stability. And then when a dwelling becomes dull - leave. Wander. See the world again, and the changes."

Retaining an altered, darkened form of his past humor, Abraham examined his slave. A smirk sat discreetly upon his lips. "What is this? When did this offend you? When the sire accused you? …" He stanched another laugh, and this repression altered his mood. The smirk left him. "What you have said does not make sense. I know what you are. I know of your cruelty, your adulation of torture, of destruction."

The vampire continued on its own, deepening the creases on Abraham's brow, deepening his displeasure. "You think you saved humanity, or did it some great service when you captured me. But I was less of a threat to them than the trash you sweep into bottles and study under lenses in your laboratory. I do not care that you believe in an exaggeration of what I am. Talk of the sire and her claims made me think you might be interested in being enlightened, finally. You did very little for humanity by binding me here. All you accomplished was the acquisition of a power outside of your ability. If I posed the threat you've imagined, I would have wiped out the human race within the centuries I have passed among them. What you take pride in is something you have misunderstood. And it would be interesting to consider how you approach eradicating vampires. Killing the old, who know the ways of living as the undead, leaves fewer who will kill the trash that cross their path, fewer who could teach this trash how to be true vampires. Kill the young first. …And you teach the public that vampires are rampant demolishers, so the confused fledgling will identify what they are through your vision, and will become the monster you have described because they have not been taught otherwise."

"Are you blaming me?" Abraham laughed outright, in disbelief.

Alucard's face was dead, as it had been for nearly four centuries. "Blame – no one's to blame. It is how it is. It is perspective. Something different – not mine… No. I was doing nothing – thinking. I was telling you that your actions have more influence than you are aware of. And perhaps you are too sure of yourself. You have been treated for too long as the expert on the undead, the master of killing and discovering more about them. But you are not a vampire. And you have not seen true vampires. I've told you what identifies them. Power, and the proper way of existing with the living. But, no, nothing is as civil as I've made it seem – if I have made it seem civil. Ramblings- But it is also for you – it is arrogant to believe in what you would like to believe and ignore what is real. …I'm tired. It's morning. And I've lost track of what I've said. Trust none of it. I don't want to talk to you anymore. This was not meant to become an insult. …I am too tired."

Van Hellsing wore a derisive smile, one that believed the demon king had humiliated itself. Alucard felt nothing. Hellsing snorted. "You've given me a chimerical blending of a double nature that does not exist. I believe having your head cut off skewed your reasoning. But it entertained me. And I won't forget it, not a word. And I'll digest your 'insults' while I sleep. …Now go." The smile had already expired. The man had hardened.

"Thank you Master Van Hellsing, for this privilege. I wish you goodnight."

"Good. You said it properly."

*~*~::..+..::~*~*