Author's Notes: Oh, hey, lookie! I'm doing a crossover. Dear God. Okay. This may be the most ridiculous story I've ever written, or it might be something I can easily pull off (or pull out of my ass). Please don't sue. Disclaimer: This story, while told by me, has characters that belong to someone else; there are some real locations, like Israel briefly mentioned in the beginning, but everything else belongs to Hideyuki and the guy who wrote Hellsing. Oh, and another thing: I've fixed the issue with the words getting muddled. Wordpad seems to hate my soul right now.



Palestinians and Israelis, Christians, Muslims. Every religion in the world clawing out each other's eyes in order to claim this worthless spit of blood-soaked earth, and none of them the closer. What an aroma that fills the air! They say there has been more blood spilled on this earth than anywhere else on Earth. They say more wars were fought, more lives torn apart like quickened flesh. I can still smell the decay. I can hear the hoarse, distant cries of foreign languages echoing in discordant agony and terror. I remember a time when this land was pure. Hell, even I have a hard time remembering those years.

Oh, don't get me wrong. I am not a historian. I am not immortal, for there is no such thing as true immortality, the fount of eternal life doesn't exist, and you are going to die someday. Just like me. I am just a vampire! No ordinary vampire will do for this story, of course. I am Alucard, Hellsing Organization's top soldier, the No-Life King, once-Count-- but I get ahead of myself.

Vampires, ghouls, beware all! Death gives you kisses from the tips of my bullets, and they wish you goodnight and farewell.


The chopper buzzed like an enormous beetle over ale-colored sands. The heat alone was enough to make a man lose three pounds after a single day sweating it out in the unbearable elements. Bits of sand, the smell of gasoline, camels, and sweat flowed Luckily, the British transport with Hellsing's insignia was a neutral party and no one would be forced to hike the distance to their target: a recently uncovered tomb whose concents were... undoubtedly vampiric.

"A sarcophagus," a deep, meditative voice purred as he lounged in the darkness, nursing a juice pouch filled with brilliant red drink. "Buried in sand, forgotten... I wonder who it might be." A thin, twisted smile curved his mouth into a fanged scythe shape. When he laughed, nobody heard; the propellers were much too loud.



"Yes, master."

"You will find this sarcaphagus, uncover it, and no matter what is inside... you will destroy it without fail. I don't trust what's within that container, rumored to be some withered, ancient being."

"Yes, master. Of course." What are you so afraid of, hmm? That there may finally be something stronger than I?

"You will be accompanying Walter on this mission to Israel, so that if need be, you'll have back-up. I don't like sending you so far away without supervision, but in this instance it is beyond my hands. The Queen has commanded it."

If so, why are you afraid?

"Don't contradict me! Trust me in this, Alucard. This is something that must be done, and I won't have it if there is a problem where no one else can reach you."

"Very well. Hm-hm...but, Integra..."

Alucard, poised for a siesta with the fine, tailored leather jacket that was his gift from Walter several years ago draped around him like open wings, rose from the chair. There he stood counter to her oh-so-proper, vigilante and regal posture. Of her face, he could see naught but the light shine on her glasses and the slow, pensive coal-red burn of her cigar. He noted with some displeasure how the sweet stink of it filled his hallowed little basement home.

Integra stared at him impassively. Her mouth stiffened into a tight line, sucking furiously at the cigar before smoke cascaded from her nose in a glorious grey plume.

"You just have to trust me... as you have always done, hm? It has been so long since I've gone on a day trip, do you think I would be so reckless as to let myself be destroyed by some weak, wrinkled old fart?" His words didn't present themselves at a voice, but as a purr that sent ripples through Integra's body. She touched her finger to the bridge of her glasses to push them up when, silently, a hand gloved in white appeared before her eyes and gently stole the cigar from her lips. "Will you not smoke these in my chambers? Tsk. You humans, so set in your self-destructive ways..."

"Alucard," Integra Hellsing warned, bristling vaguely as the intrusion to her personal space rattled her nerves. "You will not speak to me that way again, as long as I promise not to smoke in here."

He laughed at her expense, quietly revelling in her disgruntled state as he walked past her and up the stairs. Vaguely he thought whether this wasn't just a field trip for his benefit or a mission to take a little more seriously. And what reason did Integra have for sending him with Walter, not Police Girl? "I don't need help - even from the Angel of Death himself. But, if it is your wish--"

But I wonder... Are you worried because you know something?

An interesting means to an end - maybe not quite. Maybe this would be more than a walk in the desert.


The tomb had been uncovered for who knew how long. The centuries seemed compressed, giving everything the dry, cracked, old, decaying smell of stone - of microorganisms long deceased and fallen to dust. But the "sarcophagus" that his master and the file she provided had vaguely detailed was nothing like the time-eaten marble or stone. Walter's footsteps made dirt trickle down beaten, barely discernable steps into the stuffy gloom.

The Midian stopped briefly and sniffed briefly. "Ah... Walter. You mustn't breathe this air. Men have died in it. Perhaps you should wait here, hm? Who knows how long an old man would last?"

"Very well. But I will not hesitate to come to your aid. Master Integra has ordered me to be your helper, after all." Walter smiled, and retreated back the steps into the night.

The thing in the center of a stone, circular pedestal - that was made of old stone, at least - was made of metal. It was completely solid, decored with embellished archaic runes that were beyond Alucard's immediate knowledge. Alucard wrinkled his nose. It was warm to the touch, and smooth like new chrome. It had a strange smell, aside from the stagnant poisonous air.

He was not altogether surprised when the earth shuddered under his feet, and a beastly claw reached for his dust-layered boot. Nonplussed, he eyeballed the scaly, muscle-bound arm with a disparaging sneer. In the blur of motion that followed, the arm was severed at the elbow, revealing bone and gore, blood spraying across the clean, mirror-like surface of the unearthly coffin. As he fired shots, the stone floor all around him exploded as legions of ghouls wormed and crawled over each other to avenge their fallen comrade.

Bullets rained down from apparently every direction imaginable, rending bloody, enormous holes in the corpses that rose to animation around the coffin. They were as energetic as wind-up dolls. Like shooting fish in a barrel. Somehow this felt less than manufactured. These weaklings could not be the work of some great vampire; they almost willingly put themselves in the paths of his bullets. It was pathetic! Was he reduced to this? A bored, miserable, angry vampire with no challenges to look forward to, no glorious night-long battles that would end in blood-soaked joy?

It was outrageously insulting, the way these creatures collapsed in the rapture of death.

When all was done, and the earth was muddy with ichor, the unappeased vampire gazed on the coffin with little more than scorn. "Pathetic," he laughed. "If you yet live, is that all you have to offer me? You have insulted me beyond reckoning! Now, stop hiding in that heap, and reveal yourse--"

A hissing breath, like a deep exhalation, rose from the coffin. Suddenly, seams that were hidden before appeared in a crosswise pattern. The metal groaned, the four seperate pieces moving sedately in tandem, moving to fall parallel to the coffin. Alucard noted the ichor slowly gliding as one toward the gaping blackness within the coffin. He was about to level his firearm at it before there was suddenly light.

Light poured out of the coffin, illuminating the sparkling treasure that had nothing to do with the coffin at all. Alucard knew that because he had never seen the kind of technology that was keeping this being alive. The parsley treasures around the coffin were from some forgotten era he cared nothing about. Despite the extensive technology used to keep him "alive", the creature with the coffin was so emaciated as to look skeletal.

There were tubes jammed in to dramatically reduced flesh, though judging from careful listening there was a pulse, weak and pathetic that belied the deep, bellowing throb of power that raced through the creature's withered body. What caught Alucard's attention most was the mane of lustrous dark hair that flowed past the creature's shoulders. Despite the macabre discovery, he thought how lovely it must be to die with such locks.

His communicator blipped. "Alucard," Walter's voice buzzed near his ear. "What have you found?"

"Whatever it is," Alucard replied cheerfully, "it will die as my master has commanded."

But, glaring as he did down the barrel of his gun, he sensed the power straining against the mortal coil. His gaze glided to the blue necklace around the vampire's throat. The ocean blue gem sparkled at him, smoothed to perfection. The great familiarity did not strike him as notable.

"Walter?" Alucard growled. "Please call my Master. This is no ancient coffin, besides, and this vampire is nearly spent. Perhaps we can add another monster to the master's collection."

"If you'll remember," Walter reminded stiffly, "you were the one who turned Miss Victoria at the start."

"But this time, I'll have my master's permission." Alucard's wicked smile disappeared behind his glove, as he raised his hand to shut off the communicator hooked into his jacket collar. This little theory of permission of his was going to get him into so much wonderful trouble, he realized with some glee.

"So," he sighed, addressing the pale death inside the coffin. He noted the long curve of a sword in its sheath at the man's side, elegant but lethal. "Your strength has saved you, even at the hour of thy death. How poetic. But this act of mercy is not meant to save you. I merely want to bring you back to your full strength. I'll have my glorious battle, at the behest of my master. In an arena of blood, you'll fall by my guns... there's nothing you or I can do about it. It is my life to kill my own kind, and so I shall... till the end of days!"

He bent over the metal coffin and tore the entire construct from the floor. It wasn't that hard. It was not even connected to it. He dragged the entire thing from the room, up the stairs, to greet the hot and terrible night as Walter moved toward him. Alucard heaved the coffin once he was in the fresh air, breathed deeply, and swung the coffin onto the chopper bed.

"Doesn't that weigh a lot?" Walter noted, dubiously calculating its density.

"I don't know what it's made of, but it doesn't seem to hurt him so it shouldn't hurt me. Tell my master that I'm taking him home with me." He relaxed, sitting on the edge of the coffin as if doing so made it his, claimed as his own desert prize. "Hm-hm... This should prove a headache to her, but I will apologize as much as necessary."


It was like a long, gasping breath filled with night. A constant inhalation of eternity, relentless, ventilating in one direction. There was no body, no being. No physical case into which his life was carefully wrapped. His flesh was a mere vessel, and in it he was hibernating, waiting for his power to reanimate the sinew and matriced bone within. Then, all in one shuddering go, it changed; his rib cage (yes, that's what it was called). It was as if the movement changed, just that there suddenly was movement. A rhythm borne of desperation made his lungs suck in the hot, desert air; his heart that beat maybe once every hour began to strain and beat, flooding his veins with fluid.

His mind beat repeatedly against his sanity, crying for life, for thoughts and ideas and sensory input. It beat so hard that he had a migraine. He refused to open his eyelids, even when his muscles began to twitch and spasm uncontrollably.

It was excruciating. His nerve-endings fired. The first message was pain. Life was pain, and it was a never-ending cyclical agony for him to live. But he had no voice to scream yet, and that, at least, was a blessing in and of itself, or he would have screamed himself raw.


Sirens howled. An emergency system had somehow gone off, sensing the abnormal energy polarity around the coffin. Integra must have triggered the alarms when she discovered that Alucard meant to return with the creature still intact and possibly alive and dangerous. The large reinforced van was still idling outside, the back doors open and swinging in the wind, empty. Walter was shouting something but none of the people could hear a word of his urgent message.

In the meantime, a red blur with a huge metal box fixated onto his back darted through the hallways. His power drained, he ceased his running and shoved the entire coffin through a doorway into a medical facility. Metal shrieked on marble tiles and halted at a twenty degree angle to the far wall. The red-jacketed Alucard rose and smiled insanely at his handiwork. Soon there would be people to see to this creature's natural - and supernatural - needs. He would beg for his master's acceptance. This was of the utmost priority, the only priority he had for the time being. He never wanted anything so badly than to fight to the death with something that could hold its own for more than five or six minutes.

Integra Hellsing marched herself with Walter by her side, wincing around the sound of the alarms until some fool had the sense to shut them off. Mid-sentence, her words reached his ears. "--card, what in BLOODY hell do you think you're doing, blazing through my corridors with that thing?" How beautiful she looked - a fiery demon with slightly disoriented hair, her suit pressed, glasses shining in the clinical white lights shining from the exam room.

"You had orders. Orders to kill whatever was in there, orders to destroy it without fail. You have committed more than failure, but this heinous disobedience! This is... this is utterly reprehensible, Alucard!"

Even Walter was not prepared for it - the resounding smack of human knuckles on immortal skin. She was lucky not to have broken her hand. Her eyes continued to burn holes like cigarettes into the stunned vampire's face. But there came the slow smile, creeping back like fetid water. "Master," he purred, lowering himself to the floor, his jacket pooled like blood around him. "You are highly displeased."

Integra's response hung from the tip of her tongue. Her mannishly tall frame quivered, that aching human weakness preventing her from striking out again. Her breath came in hard little pants.

The vampire sighed as if enraptured. "Punish me, Master, if it will please you... and don't you dare hold back."

Sir Integra shivered, as if his words puzzled and horrified her. "Go to your room," she whispered breathlessly.

"So you won't kill him?" Alucard murmured. "Thank you... Master."

"I'll see to this situation myself and speak with you later. Privately. Bloody vampire!"

Walter was looking painfully to Integra for permission. "Shall I call the them in?"

"Who?" Integra muttered, rubbing her temples as Alucard raised himself off the floor and disappeared around the corner to find his room.

"The physicians, Sir Integra." Walter stepped quickly into the exam room. "The, ah, specimen appears to be waking up."

"Bloody hell. Get the damn physicians. And make sure to check on Alucard. This is unprecedented behavior, even coming from him." Integra's voice lowered into an angry tenor, the words bouncing off the walls and following Alucard even as he descended into his chambers.

But she could not deny her curiousity. Her footsteps led her into the room. In the glaring lights, the creature in the coffin, clad in black, was even now slowly reanimating. It was slow, and agonizing, and she could almost hear the pain in every event that caused it life. Her eyes fixated on the blue gem fastened around its throat hanging from a chain. She looked at the sword by its side, and the beautiful head of nearly black hair framing the skeletal face that was becoming more and more handsome before her very eyes.

What was the reason that Alucard would have dragged this being here before her? Alucard rarely did anything without cause. Was he trying to tell her something? Was he lonely? But he had Seras Victoria. The Police Girl, as he affectionately taunted her. Her mind fumbled, but soon she became too caught up in the way the man's body before her ate up the years to restore his youth. He was beautiful. His muscles were finely chiseled, his body tall and powerful, radiating its own bizarre sense of beauty. He had the look of a starved young man no more than eighteen years old.

"Sir Integra," Walter ventured. "We'd best let them put him on a blood transfusion. He will wake up... very dangerous if he is hungry."

"He will be dangerous no matter what we do, Walter." She lifted the sword quietly from the coffin. The sheath was riddled with bits and chunks missing out of it, made of some sort of hide. Deep scratches, grooves, and bite marks covered it. She passed it to Walter, who would take it to their investigation lab for analyzation. In the meantime, she stepped out into the corridor and stubbornly lit another cigar, champing down on the end of it with a ferocious intent. Damn it. Who is this? Why have you brought him all the way here?