The Child of Seras - by MindAsylum - Anime - http://www.hellsingfanfic.net/hellsingfanfic/The_Child

The Child of Seras

Chapter VI

Jake grimaced at the target board sliding toward him from the fifty yard mark.

“God, that sucked.”

Out of the eight shots the magazine held, only 3 of them hit the paper at all, and none even touched the body. Worst of all, that was actually an improvement over his first volley, which only hit the paper once, and one actually hit the target beside his own, getting a few laughs out of the few other soldiers that were practicing at the time.

Seras giggled under her breath a little. “The irony of that statement aside, the point was for you to get comfortable with a gun in your hands. Now that you know how it works, I can show a little trick to aiming that only vampires can use.”

“What kind of trick?”

Seras took the .45 from him and smiled slyly. “I’m so glad you asked.”

She loaded the magazine in with click and aimed with one hand. Unlike him, she didn’t close one eye, or even favored one or the other in lining up the sight. Eight shots. 100 meters. All headshots, at or near the center. One-inch grouping.

“Jesus.” He muttered. “How did you do that?”

“Easy,” she said with what was by now her trademark friendly, student-teacher grin. “I shot with my third eye.”

Jake responded with what was undoubtedly his trademark look of confusion. “That’s a metaphor, right?”

“Sort of. It’s a vampiric sense that’s centered here.” She put a finger on his forehead. “Shoot from there, and you’ll put Annie Oakley to shame.”

Jake’s skepticism reared its head, telling him how nonsensical all of that was. But in what little experience he had so far, common sense—at least the kind he was used to—had very little to do with being a vampire. He took the gun and aimed it at the target.

Third eye, huh?

He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to picture it in his head. He opened them, and suddenly, the target seemed as though it were ten feet in front of him. Four shots. He blinked and the distance returned to normal. There was a buzz and the target slid toward him again.

“Whoa...”

One pierced an ear, two hit the left eye, and one in the chin.

She slapped him on the shoulder good-humoredly. “Now that’s shooting like a proper vampire.”

“Did I really do that?” he uttered.

“You most certainly did. Give it another try.”

He emptied a few magazines into the target, each grouping a little tighter than the last. Once he’d gotten comfortable with pistols, they’d moved on to a rifle, then to a shotgun. It was almost surreal; Jake felt as though he was using a cheat code in a video game. He was taking to this well. Disturbingly well. Every time he pulled the trigger, he felt he was getting closer to something, though he wasn’t sure what.

“You catch on fast.” Seras commented.

“Yeah...I do, don’t I?” he said quietly. It was so strange; he never would have thought he would have a knack for this sort of thing. It shouldn’t have felt right, but for some reason, it did.

He rubbed his throat. It was burning again. He hadn’t “eaten” since two days ago, and his hunger had been pulling at him on and off. It didn’t make sense to him, but Jake was sure that somehow what he was doing had brought it on. Suddenly, his head began to hurt and his legs felt weak. He teetered sideways.

Seras caught him and he slumped against her. He hated looking so weak in front of her, especially just after she had expressed a tiny bit of pride in him.

“I’m sorry, Master.”

“You’re hungry, aren’t you?” she asked softly, so only he could hear.

“Yeah, I am.” He said, ashamed of the fact.

Seras slung one of his arms over her shoulder. “Let’s get you back to the basement. I’m sure Walter already has it taken care of.”

--

Integra Hellsing sat at her desk, rubbing her temples in irritation. Another migraine. She’d been having a lot of those lately. Her problem was exacerbated by a knock on the door.

“Come in, Walter.” she knew it was him by the manner in which he knocked.

He stepped in, carrying a tray with a glass of water and a tiny plastic cup with two pills in it.

“Something for your head, Sir Integra.” He said, offer her the tray’s contents.

She sighed and took both. “Thank you, Walter. What have you recovered on Rivers’ background?”

“Well,” he began, straightening himself, “we know that he’s not a legal English immigrant, though he has resided here for roughly a year and half. Before then, he lived in Los Angeles, in the United States. As you know, he was admitted into a Catholic school at age seven, following the supposed death of his family.

Integra raised an eyebrow. “Supposed?”

“I say ‘supposed,’ because, while the official story is that they died in a car crash, there is no trace of an autopsy report for his father or sister.”

“Were they important people?” asked Integra.

“Not in any observable way,” said Walter thoughtfully, “They lived in a rather seedy part of town; the father was a factory worker, and the mother died a year after Jake’s birth of a heroine overdose.”

“Odd...” Integra mused.

“Also worthy of note is that in the period between his family’s death and his admission into the St. Bernard Catholic School, there is record of his stay at the hospital, for a broken leg, as well as a period of six months at a psychiatric hospital.”

“A mental hospital?” said Integra, “For what?”

“All the record states is severe Post Traumatic Stress Disorder,” Walter adjusted his monocle, “No other details exist on his treatment or the conditions of his release.”

Integra considered this for a moment. The fledgling’s past had some fairly severe holes in it. True, it didn’t seem like he had anyone left to ask questions, but at the same time, the vital question had to be asked.

“Be honest with me, Walter. Can we trust him?”

“It’s too early to tell for sure, Sir Integra. But from what I observe, even if he is not loyal to the crown, Hellsing, or God, I think it’s quite safe to say that he is loyal to his Master, Ms. Victoria. It would be difficult to imagine a circumstance in which he would betray her, and therefore, us. And as for whether or not he might take a bite out of one the soldiers, he hadn’t touched the blood I gave him the last two nights.”

“So what you’re saying is that his motivations are precisely the same as Seras’ when she began to work for us?”

“From what can be gathered in two days time, yes.”

A small tinge of what looked like regret passed over Integra’s eyes. “Perhaps I was overzealous in having Alucard be his watchdog. I’ll have to talk to him about that later.”

--

Seras set Jake down in the chair beside the table. She pulled one up beside him and sat down, opening the lid of the icebox, which, as she knew it would be, had just been delivered.

She pulled one of the two bags out and gave it to Jake, who took it a little hesitantly. He stared at it, as though it were a bitter medicine.

“Jake, I know it feels wrong. For the longest time, I refused to drink. But unless you want to trade in your bed for a closed coffin, there’s no way around it.”

His eyes went wide at the word “closed.” For only a moment, Seras felt a wave of deep-seated, almost primal fear coming from him.

“What do you mean when you say that?” he asked.

“Well, if you don’t drink blood, then you’ll have to sleep in a coffin with the soil of your birthplace inside it. Otherwise, you’ll only get weaker, and eventually, starve.”

He seemed to consider it for a moment, obviously between a rock and a hard place.

“It won’t make you a monster, Jake. You’re just taking what you need from people who volunteered it. Think of it like your salary, in return for your services.”

“And if I drink, I won’t have to sleep in a coffin?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said, trying to sound encouraging without being pushy, “plus, you’ll actually be stronger than you would be if you’d slept in a coffin without drinking.”

Jake gave the bag one last, long look, no doubt asking himself what lines he was crossing by doing this. She did the same when she first drank. Seras felt a small wave of vampiric pride come over her as she watched her fledgling tear open the bag, bring it slowly to his lips, and drink. He lowered the empty bag and sighed. She patted him on the back and said reassuringly:
“See? You’re a soldier cashing his first paycheck.”

He did not say anything to this, but placed the empty bag in the icebox, next to the second one and closed the lid. He was silent for a while, contemplating what he had done, and said finally: “Master, do you still think of yourself as human, even a little bit?”

Seras paused. She wasn’t sure what kind of answer he was expecting, but she decided to be honest about it.
“In many ways, I think, yes.”

Much to Seras’ satisfaction, Jake smiled and said, “Good. Then there’s hope for me, too.”

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