Dying Art

By TheLostMaximoff

Disclaimer: Don't own these characters. I decided that since it's almost Halloween I'd try something new. This is also my first Hellsing fic so be kind and R/R.

I used to be an artist. Well, not really I guess. I guess most people wouldn't call what I did art. They still wouldn't, really. But I left my mark on people and by doing that I left my mark upon the world. That part hasn't changed. I was a tattoo artist and a piercer. People would come to me seeking pain and pleasure. I delivered it to them. There is a pleasure in pain, no doubt about that. Once the endorphins kick in, you get a great high off of the needle in your skin. It's a beautiful feeling, why not share it?

This one screamed a lot. They used to scream sometimes when I stuck them with the needle. Some screams were out of pain, some were from pleasure. Like I said, both are linked. And it's no different now, now that I'm using fangs instead of a needle. The pain and pleasure are still there only there's an even better high now. Could you even imagine what it's like to feed on someone? God, it's such a huge rush. The best high ever and you don't even have to be alive to get it. What could be better? I stare down at the girl as I remove my fangs from her neck and wipe my mouth. She has a nice body, no reason not to admire it. She was a great fuck too. I always like a good screw before I create. Well, first the fucking then the feeding then the creating. Priorities, you know? But now we're down to business here. No more fucking, no more feeding. Time for some art now. She'll be a ghoul, this one. Somebody got her in the sack before I did. Lucky for them. I don't mind though, it's better for the art that way.

I grin wildly as I reach over to the pocket of my pants and flick open my switchblade. I start with a little cut down the length of her body, from her neck to her stomach. That's how I usually start it out. Once I'm done with the first cut, I move to her round, perky, little breasts. I dab a little blood on her nipples, doodling little circles with it and then licking my fingers to get the excess off. Then it's up to the face. I make a few cuts under her eyes, letting the blood drip down in little rivulets. God, this turns me on. It would've been better if she had been a virgin though. Virgin blood always tastes the best. That's the kind of shit you wanna snort up your nose or shoot into your veins. God, that stuff is the fucking best. I slice a little under the edges of her lips, letting blood run down her chin. It's back to her body now, back to that gorgeous and now wonderfully cold body. A few curved slices that go out from the vertical one are now created, acting like ribs. Yeah, I think this has potential. A few cuts that run down her legs soon follow and then some on the inside of her thighs. Next, some rings that go around her arms. That'll look real good on her, I can already tell. Yeah, red is definitely her color. I smile as I remember the old days. It's no different now. I'm still leaving my mark on people. But now it's even better because I get the incredible high from feeding on them. The body designs are just for show. The real mark, my real signature, is on her neck. Two nice puncture wounds, crisp and neat after I wipe the blood from the edges. People have always said the devil is in the details and I don't want to make anything sloppy. It's not very professional. Even though cleanup is a real bitch, it's worth the extra effort.

But now comes the best part of all, the part where I show off my latest masterpiece. After all, it's no fun unless other people see it. It's no fun unless people look at it and say, 'Jan Valentine must've done that'. Yeah, that part's always the real kick. I quickly get off the bed and leave the room. Hopefully, Luke's around. He better be, I didn't go to all this trouble for nothing. I can hear the music from the club downstairs. I check his room first and, surprisingly, he's there.

"What is it?" asks Luke. He's in the middle of something, I can tell.

"You gotta see," I tell him simply. Luke rolls his eyes. He never really appreciates what I do sometimes, the masterpieces I make out of people. He never did, even in the old days when we were human. But he indulges me well enough and, like I said, I have to have someone see it.

"You know how much I despise this," says Luke. There's some noise from his bathroom. A girl walks out dressed only in some tight, black lingerie and for a moment my mind entertains the thought of creating something else tonight.

"I'll be back in a minute," Luke tells the girl, "This shouldn't take long."

"This your brother?" asks the girl as I leer at her and she returns with a sexy smile, "He's hot."

"And he's leaving," assures Luke, "I'll be back." I grin at the girl as we leave the room and walk over to my bedroom.

"It had better be good," warns Luke, "You know how I hate your little unveilings." I roll my eyes and open the door. Luke will never get it. He's too wrapped up in all that high society garbage. Life is all about the rush, the high, the thrill. He could never get that. We're an odd pair, me and him. We're so different that we could only be brothers because if we were anything else then we wouldn't still be together.

"Now tell me that's not art," I beam as I see the walking corpse standing up by the bed. Luke looks over the ghoul. He simply nods his head a few times which I take to be good signs.

"You are one sick bastard, little brother," admits Luke, "But you've got a little talent, I'll give you that much." I grin at my creation. God, adoration is such a great drug.

"Clean this 'mess' up when you're done," orders Luke as he heads for the door, "And next time, make sure you're not interrupting something when you barge in like that."

"I knocked," I reply sarcastically, "Gimme some credit." Luke rolls his eyes again and leaves. I turn back and stare at my beautiful work. The ghoul stares back at me, blank eyes fixing straight ahead with no real thought behind them at all. I stare into those hollow eyes and feel myself starting to get turned on all over again.

"Now, where were we?" I ask the ghoul. A groan issues from the corpse's lips and my grin gets even bigger. God, she looks so hot like that. I made her a fucking masterpiece, a goddess. She was nothing and I turned her into something beautiful. I love the rush I get from that, always have. Through all the pain, there's such a wonderful pleasure and I enjoy feeding on it almost as much as blood.

"God, I love it when you talk dirty to me," I tell the ghoul as it groans again. I move forward, taking my masterpiece in my arms and kissing the lips of a walking corpse. The night is young, the adrenaline is still flowing, and there's so much else I could create.