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

The Child of Seras

Chapter VII

January 22

Seras is off on a mission now. I know I’m far from combat-ready, but I can’t help feeling like I should be by her side, even if she doesn’t really need me. I have a huge debt to pay, and when I’m not being taught by her, I feel idle, useless, like an unwelcome guest. I do what I can to keep busy. I go to the shooting range and try to improve my accuracy. So far 4”at a hundred yards is the best I can do, even with the eye trick Seras taught me. When I think I’ve used up enough bullets, I go to the library and learn all that I can, to try and stay ahead of the game. Walter provided me with a volume on Hellsing’s history, it’s research and findings on vampires and ghouls, even records of older enemies that were eliminated. I always feel a small puff of pride whenever I see one that my Master took out. There are pieces missing from it, though: I couldn’t find any information on Alucard, and the history section cuts off at eighty years back. When I asked Walter about this, he shrugged and said “Security reasons. You understand; we can’t have soldiers in the field that a clever enemy could extract vital information from.”

It sounded reasonable to me, so instead of pressing the issue, I just moved on to some other books. I almost laughed when I saw a copy of Dracula sitting on the shelf next to “references,” but in the end, I picked it up anyway. It might be interesting to see if Stoker knew what he was talking about.

I don’t see much of Alucard, but when I do, he never speaks to me. He just gives me a look like I’m something he wouldn’t feed to a starving rat, and passes me by. Maybe it’s just my imagination, but I get this weird feeling that he’s always watching me, just waiting for me to screw up. I never thought I’d say this, but I can’t wait for combat. I’ll show him just how wrong he is about me, and Seras that all her hard work hasn’t gone to waste.

Jake checked the clock: 5:30pm. A little early from the established routine, but he was getting in the habit of rising earlier, so as to make the most out of his day—or night. He felt it was important to show that he was focused, staying in sight and busy as often as possible, even if that meant emptying clips at a shooting range full of irritated, uneasy soldiers, two hours before his Master rose. Besides, it wasn’t as if he slept very well here. His body didn’t to protest; he felt no less energy that before.

That is, so long as he ate his first meal of the day.

Blood...he mused, staring at the ice bucket on the table.

It used to be that the sight of it would make him dizzy and nauseous. Now it was being without it for more than 12 hours that made him feel the same, along with those horrible hunger pangs that encompassed every vein in his body, like dry roots seeking water. When he thought about it, there were plenty of reasons to drink it: to keep his strength, to avoid distraction from hunger, so Seras wouldn’t worry about him. But when he was being honest with himself, there were only two that gave him the courage to tear off the lid and pour it down his dry, aching throat.

The first was to avoid sleeping in a closed coffin. All his life he had always been severely claustrophobic; and if just the lack of windows in his room made him uneasy, and if getting shoved into a locker at age 12 had nearly given him a heart attack, he didn’t want to imagine what sleeping in a pine box might do.

The second was a little harder to deal with: it was delicious. He didn’t want to enjoy it, but he did. Drinking it was an experience all to itself. It was smooth, sweet, and filled him a strange vigor he had never felt before becoming a vampire. It reminded Jake vaguely of a caffeine high; the sudden rush of energy, the need to be in movement and doing something. And yet, if he didn’t drink his second helping before bed, he couldn’t sleep. He’d never thought at any point in his life that he would become so dependant, so, for lack of a better word, addicted, to a single substance, though so far, his body hadn’t demanded any more than he was given.

At least, not yet.

He put the empty bag in the trash beside the desk and closed the lid on the remaining one. He wasn’t about to get into the habit of drinking two at a time; and under no circumstances would he ask Walter for any more. What would he think if he did?

Moreover, what would Seras think?

He decided not to worry about it, and instead focused on making himself look presentable. While Seras never said this outright, he knew it to be true: if he looked bad, then she looked bad, and that was the last thing he wanted. Looking formal, however, was not his strong-suit. In the end he let his hair fall partially over his eyes, and tried to make sure his uniform looked right, but after fumbling with his waistline for ten minutes, he began to realize just how futile all of this was. It didn’t matter how he looked; he was a yankee bloodsucker in a mansion full of people who liked neither. It was a lot like his old Catholic school, only the kids didn’t normally carry around M5s, and the school bully couldn’t walk through walls.

But the least he could do for Seras was not embarrass her. Jake finally straightened the waist and the belt-line, opened his steel door and walked into the dimly-lit hall. His moves from there had become rather formalized: go to the range, ignore the distrusting looks from the soldiers, try to improve his groupings with various weapons, and read in his room until Seras wakes up at around 8:00pm which he looked forward to immensely.

Jake felt that by-now familiar rush of warmth and put down the his copy of Dracula when he heard a knock on his door.

“Come in, Master.”

Seras grabbed Jake by the wrist and tripped him, catching him in a headlock.

“Now what did I tell you about being soft with me?” she jokingly chastised.

Jake struggled, trying to wiggle free of her grip, but to no avail. “I’m not, I swear! You’re too fast.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere.” She said with a smirk.

She let him go and went back to a ready position. “Besides,” she added “you have advantages of your own, you know. You’re taller.”

They circled around each other, reading body language and setting their footing.

“I didn’t realize that was an advantage.”

This time, Jake took initiative. He faked once to the left, which Seras saw through in an instant. She countered by stepping forward to throw off his angle of attack, but then, as though he expected it, he sidestepped and grabbed her by the shoulder and tried to pull her into a throw. She spun in a 180 degrees arc and found her footing, reciprocating the move on him. Then he found his footing, and backed into her sharply. He got his grip on her right wrist, about to throw her over his shoulder...

Seras landed on her feet and pinned him against the padded wall, there faces scarcely an inch apart.

“Nice,” she said proudly, “almost had me there.”

Jake face went flush. “Um, thanks.”

Seras backed down and resisted a giggle. “I think that’s enough for one night.”

It was painfully obvious to Seras that he was attracted to her. But then again, so was she to Alucard when she was a fledgling. It must have been a sort of vampiric, adolescent phase. She was sure he would grow out of it when he became Nosferatu, just as she did.

“Keep this up and you’ll be combat-ready soon.” She said as they walked through the painting-laden corridor, past a group of soldiers heading toward the shooting range. They eyed Jake suspiciously as they moved on, and he sighed uneasily.

Seras gave an assuring smile. “They’ll get used to you after a while, once they realize you’re not going to crack them open and drain them out.”

It didn’t seem to help him much. Perhaps he was already aware of the fact that even if they did get used to him, the vast majority would never really accept him. It was just a fact of life for being a part of Hellsing’s vampire unit.

The intercom clicked on as a stern voice brayed out its commands. “Squads A and B fall in at 1100 hours. Details upon briefing.”

“Oh bloody Hell.” She groaned, “Another one crawls out of the hole.” She turned to Jake and put a hand on his shoulder.

“Well, I’m off. Don’t wait up on me; I might be a while.”

“Ok, Master.” said Jake.

“Oh, and stop calling me ‘Master.’” She chided playfully. “It makes me feel like I’m in some cheap kung fu flick. Just ‘Seras’ is fine.”

A modest smile crept up his face. “Yes Mas—I mean Seras.”

“Right then, see you soon.”

Seras waved, and as she made her way to the briefing room, she had become very aware of the fact that with that simple request, she had gotten that much closer to him, which she hoped was a good thing. While she would never admit it to Alucard, she really didn’t have much idea of what she was doing in this venture of siring a fledgling. Seras supposed that, just like a parent raising a child, she could only do what she thought was right, and then hope for the best.

He won’t end up in the gutter, she thought to herself, he cares too much.

When Seras disappeared down the hall, Jake walked away with even more elation than he usually did after training with her. All he could think about was how lucky he was, to be the fledgling of someone like her. Surely she was a better master than—

“What’s with that smile, fledgling?”

—Alucard...

Jake shrieked and whipped around. He was without his usual hat and glasses, so Jake could very clearly see his eyes bore into his skull like twin power drills. And that damned smile, that predatory grin that seemed permanently cut into his face. It was subtle right now, a sly curve that Jake understood on an almost primal level. A snake didn’t need to use its venom; it just needed you to know it could.

“N-nothing...I was just heading back to my room.” He stammered, broadcasting to Alucard how easily he could inspire fear in him. Alucard might go away if he felt his power had been asserted. This game felt eerily familiar to Jake; in fact, he was sure he’d played it many times before, but with who?

“Resting already? But the night’s just started.”

Alucard’s grin widened, and suddenly, Jake knew that the snake had stopped rattling its tail, and was coiling itself, preparing for the killing strike. He turned slowly, though Jake jumped regardless, and said seductively:

“Follow me.”

Alucard strode out of the hallway and toward the mansion’s main entrance, and Jake, not knowing how to object, obliged him. How did Alucard do this to him? How did he create such a palpable wave of nausea and chills without even having to try? He had no reason to believe—apart from his obvious disdain for him—that wanted to hurt him. Besides, they were fighting on the same side: why would he hurt an ally?

They had already gone a ways away from the mansion and beyond the outer gate, when Jake’s fear of Alucard in general was suddenly outweighed by his fear of being alone with him.

“Where are we going?” he asked quietly, as if it were mere suggestion.

Alucard didn’t answer, which was a better result than Jake imagined. Even before tonight, Alucard always seemed to act like he knew something, like he was the keeper of some big secret. It should have made him angry, but instead, it only made his presence that more unbearable. Maybe it wasn’t that he might never know, but rather, he was afraid that Alucard just might be cruel enough to tell him.

They were in the forest now. The crickets’ chirping got quieter and quieter, and eventually disappeared completely. Jake had always hated the woods at night, and even being able to see in the dark hadn’t changed that. He was struck with a feeling of déjà vu, and remembered a joke Hans had told him a long time ago, about a boy and a murderer walking through the woods. The boy said ‘I’m scared,’ and the murderer responded ‘You’re scared? I’m the one who has to walk out of here alone.’

Jake swallowed hard. He almost bumped into Alucard when he realized he had stopped.

“I think it’s time someone gave you an accurate assessment of your strengths and weaknesses.”

Alucard turned, and before Jake could even cry out for help, pulled out a silenced .45 pistol and shot him in the head. He watched it as if he were in slow motion. He felt the contact of the bullet, its heat scorching his skin as tore through it in a circular motion, the contact with his skull, and then the noise; that overpowering crunch of his skull being breached, cracked like an egg stabbed with a needle. The pressure of it pushing his brains aside as it made room for itself.
He lay on the wet, muddy grass; paralyzed. Blind. Dead.

Seras sat in one of Hellsing’s newest silent choppers, halfway to France for the scheduled freak removal. It was times like this that she felt more like an exterminator than a soldier. It was probably just another stupid weak-blood with too much free time and no common sense. She understood why Alucard pined for a challenge after almost a century of work like this.

She sat beside Mick, the only one willing to share the two-seater section divided by the main door and weapon rack with her.

“So how’s it going with the kid?” he asked.

“Not bad at all,” she said proudly, “Just today he almost threw me in CQC.”

“So, he might just have what it takes after all”

“What you mean ‘after all.’” She said, only half-defensively.

“Well, if you want me to be honest,” Mick began, taking a long drag from his cigarette, “I thought he was a little too highly strung for this line of work.”

Seras laughed to the point of near-hysteria. The other soldiers gave her strange looks, but that only made her laugh harder.

“I don’t know what the hell you guys are passing around, but save some for me!” Shouted the co-pilot.

Seras quieted herself and turned her attention back to a confused and slightly put-off Mick.

“I’m sorry,” she wiped the beginnings of tears out of her eyes. “It’s just that your granddad said the same thing about me when I first joined.”

“Well stone the fucking crows...” Mick said with a nostalgic smile, “I’d better remind myself not to speak too soon then.”

“Well, you do have a point—

—He is a little timid.”

“Get up fledgling.” said Alucard dismissively. “You’re fine.”

“You...shot me...in the head...” he said, so shocked he hardly noticed that the brain matter was re-growing itself, pushing the bullet out of its snug position in his medulla.

“How observant you are.” He said irritably, “I didn’t even use my real gun, now stand back up.”

“You think he’ll get over it faster?”

He brought a hand to his wound, and realized, to his amazement, that nothing remained but a small patch of drying blood.

“I said,” Alucard pulled Jake to his feet by his shirt collar, “Stand up!”

Jake, still dizzy, felt himself being shoved backward against a tree, barely keeping on his own two legs. Alucard’s condescending leer was only a steadily clearing blur, but he could still detect the growing impatience in his voice.

“I won’t know until his first mission, but...”

When his vision cleared, he found Alucard was still pointing the gun at him. He fired. A bullet seared through his chest and hit the bark on the other side. One of his lungs collapsed as he cried out and writhed in pain. Alucard’s finger tightened on the trigger, and Jake turned away in anticipation of more pain.

“But what?”

“Why are you flinching?” shouted Alucard with disgust “Did I not just demonstrate to you that any shots from this gun mean nothing? I could empty it into you a dozen times and still you’d live.”

“Because it fucking hurts you asshole!” Jake shouted back in confused despair. “What have I done to deserve this? Tell me!”

“Isn’t it obvious? You’ve inherited my bloodline, perhaps the strongest in the world. How can you be worthy of such a gift, when you can’t handle the most basic of its benefits? How can you be worthy to be the fledgling of my fledgling? And as for pain...”

He emptied the remainder of the gun into his legs, stomach, and shoulder, ignoring his agonized cries with a cocksure grin.

“I’m not sure what it is...”

“...you know nothing of it.” Alucard grabbed Jake by the throat and pulled back his fist. Jake’s eyes screwed shut, waiting for his teeth to be knocked out of his mouth

“Maybe it’s the way he seems so guarded,”

Alucard’s eyes widened “Are you flinching again!?” he nearly screamed in outrage.

And just like that, his rage cooled. What remained was little more than a severe disgust. He dropped Jake onto the ground and turned to leave.

“Or that he gets so nervous whenever I talk to him about his past,”

“What a pathetic waste. By all rights, I should kill you right now and save Seras the disappointment. But that is not within my authority at the moment. Consider yourself lucky that Seras takes such undeserved pity on you, you worthless undead pup.”
“Whatever the cause, I get this feeling that beneath all of that modesty and shyness, there’s...”

Of all those harsh words, only one burned its way through the pain in his body: “Pup.” He’d been called that by someone before. Someone terrible. Someone he hated more than anyone or anything else.

Someone he wanted to kill

“Something else.”

Jake felt his heart pump acid into his veins, burning so hotly he screamed. Something stretched within him the farther Alucard walked away, and suddenly his heart began beating so loudly—was that even possible for a vampire?—he couldn’t hear anything else. The next he knew, he was rushing toward Alucard so fast he formed tunnel vision for a moment, and, not even realizing what had happened, heard a grotesque squishing noise.

He heard Alucard chuckle darkly. “Perhaps there’s a vampire in there after all.”

The tunnel vision faded, and Jake found his arm was halfway through Alucard’s gut, who, as he looked up, seemed more amused by it that worried. Jake’s mouth dropped. He tried to say something, but nothing came out. Alucard carelessly pulled Jake’s arm out of him and left, leaving him to piece together what had just happened for himself.

“I don’t know what you did, fledgling,” said Alucard as he walked away, “but do it more often. It was the only useful thing you’ve done since you came here.”

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