The Hellsing Files Reloaded
Chapter Uno: Integra shoots her eye out.
Prologue: With the Hellsing Organization, or Family, or Agency, or whatever the hell it is, back to full strength, the final battle battle between Millennium and the Vatican seemed poised to take place. And it did. Boy was it awesome. You really should have been there, man, it was something to see. You had Ranma Saotome, Master Chief, fuckin' Lobo, and Harry Potter fighting baby-eating Nazi vampires who were backed up by Lord Voldemort, Carl Johnson, and Nickelback. About halfway into it, the Vatican showed up with Father Alexander Anderson, the ghost of Jerry Falwell, the Pope, and probably that guy from Brimstone, making an ever bigger mess of things.
There was laughter, there were tears, sadness, pain, joy, death, the whole gamut of human experience, really. The event capped of The Hellsing Files series, and that's probably where it should have ended, but nope, we're doing this. Think of it like a reboot/rewrite/continuation. A cleaning of the slate, and totally not the result of the author forgetting what happened in the last 40-something chapter series and not having the energy to look.
And now for the logue:
There was a knock at the door of Integra's office. She looked up from whatever she was doing and hollered "Come in."
In came Walter, her former butler, looking like he'd fallen into a vat of Botox ('Cause that's how Botox works, right?). He stood straight and confidant, how most people imagine British folks aught to be, but his face carried humility. Under his arm, he carried a long rectangular box.
"What the hell do you want, traitor?" Integra asked.
He cleared his throat. "To apologize."
"How are you alive? Apologize by lying down in traffic."
He cleared his throat again. "I thought you might say that, so I brought you a gift."
"Unless that's the world's largest box of cigars, I'm not interested," she said, reaching for her pistol.
He showed her the label. Unless the box lied, it contained a Red Ryder BB gun. "Oh, I see some your brains have been shot out," Integra said. "Explain this nonsense."
"I remembered when you were a small child you used to enjoy shooting rats and pigeons that made their way onto the grounds. It's more of a token, really, a reminder of the good times."
"There have never been any good times," Integra said, buttoning the holster cover and getting up. "But very well, gift accepted."
"No, gift accepted. The apology comes now."
Walter stood looking sheepish out on the firing range. Integra had taken up a small camp by one of the shooting booths. Steam from a fresh cup of tea rose and blew towards the disgraced butler while a small crowd had gathered behind the Hellsing leader. These were the ones who'd survived the Millennium battle, and only a total jerk would ask which ones at this point. Seriously, wait and see.
Integra poured some BBs from a fancy box into the new BB gun. She cocked it, aimed, and fired, hitting Walter between the eyes. He winced as blood trickled down his nose, but made no sound as she proceeded to fill him full of tiny holes and little welts. She cocked the gun one final time and looked at Walter as he bled and seemed on the verge of tears. She remembered some of things he'd probably done for her when she was younger and he was a butler, and decided to let bygones be bygones. -With this lot behind me living here and trashing the place, I'm sure being a butler for me now is an awful, awful thing. Serves him right.-
"You're forgiven, but don't think I've forgotten anything, mister," she said. "If you want your job back, you're first task is getting yourself cleaned up. And age, damn it, you look stupid."
"Yes, ma'am," he said, bowing and beating a hasty exit.
"Nice gun," said Leon S. Kennedy. She could smell the smoke of those foul herbs he claimed could heal zombie bite wounds about him.
"It's good for shooting rats," she said. "And pigeons."
"I got a c note says you can't hit that bird over there," said Carl Johnson. Integra squinted to make sure it was him. He'd gained about one hundred pounds, or stones, or whatever the hell British people count fat in, and was dressed in a tuxedo.
-Was he even on our side,- she wondered. Not remembering and not caring, she aimed at the bird he was pointing at. It rested atop the roof of the firing range booths and looked at her before making some kind of pigeon sound. With the sun off to her left, the glare on her glasses was intolerable, so she removed them. Being an attractive woman, they were only there for show and she did not truly need them to see.
"Easy," she said, and fired.
The BB hit the lip of the roof, as Integra did in fact need her glasses to see, and ricocheted hitting her right in the eye.
Seras stood quietly in the nurse's office, or sick bay, or whatever, with a look on her face that indicated she wanted to pet Integra like an injured dog. "Eye patches are cool, aren't they?" she said.
"If you're a pirate," said Integra. "Do I look like a pirate to you, Seras?"
"I have an eye patch. I look 'cool.' Mustn't I be a pirate?"
"N-not necessarily, sir..."
"Stop calling me sir. I'm a woman. A knighted woman is a dame. Whoever started this sir nonsense is..."
The door opened and in snuck Solid Snake. His hair had gone gray and he sported a mustache as well as an eye patch.
"Walter is young, and now you're old...are you mocking me with that thing?" Integra asked.
"No," Snake said, removing the patch. His eye was perfectly fine underneath. "I got this on my last mission and didn't give it back. Faked my own death, long story. Anyway, it's yours if you want it."
"I've got one already," she said. "It's even got my family crest on it. It's cool, right, Seras?"
She liked it when the vampire shivered.
"This one will give you night vision, thermal vision, and it works like a monocular. You can watch movies and play Angry Birds on it, too," said Snake, handing it to her.
Integra slipped it on. After a second, she looked at Snake with her good eye. "Nice. Too bad my eye has been shot out, and can't see anything this patch would show me..."
"Ah..." Snake said, wishing he'd realized that a few paragraphs ago. "Well...by then."
"Seras," said Integra. "Fetch me my sword."
"Yes, ma'am," said Seras. "May I ask what for?"
"Gyar, don't question me, or you'll walk the plank, you scurvy bilge rat!" Integra shouted, jumping off the table where she sat.
"Aye, sir! Er, dame."
To be continued...