Written by: Tempus321 and Sisheo

Summary: 'The world of the supernatural is hidden by those who run the churches. Unfortunately, the world that most people think is normal and the supernatural world often collide right under people's noses. This is my unfortunate story...'

Rating: M

Please note that we don't own Hellsing, only the original characters and this storyline.


Legend:

"Migi?" – Speech

"Medre!" – Written text, Speech on an amplifying device

Dumbass... – Thoughts

(Insert comment) - Story change


"Aw shit," was the response that I gave when a pressure dist alarm went off. The item I was stealing currently is a silver necklace with a sapphire tear pendent. Everyone says that gold and diamonds are a girl's best friends, but this one didn't like either; though, this girl would become my worst nightmare and would turn me into a human icicle if I did not succeeded. I could buy the thing legally but I have two problems: I spend money on equipment and essentials and I believe in a code in which an item stolen is more worth than an item bought.

Now the ringing bells of alarms mixed with running footsteps were the sounds that filled the once silence air. My hand was still in the case, so I reset the necklace the way it was. I pulled my hand out, and hid.

The way I hide isn't like those cheap thieves, but by something else: invisibility. If you ask me or look at me funny, I'm not joking. Invisibility and intangibility are real, just the big guys don't tell you. My boss did not believe that I could do those things until I stole his wallet and in the process, phased his pants into the chair. That was three years ago.

"Now where is he at?" one of the guards asked looking around.

"Are you sure it isn't a she? Why not call it an it!" the other shouted, "But that doesn't explain the necklace is still there in the case, which is… unbroken…" The stupid look on this guard's face was priceless.

"You're not saying that a ghost tried to steal it," the first guard said, started to laugh halfway in the sentence. I almost laughed with him, but I didn't want to be ratted out. I could pants the idiot who thought I was a girl. But then again, you never see smart guards when you're a thief.

"Are you sure it wasn't the janitor?"

"THE JANITOR'S OFF TONIGHT, MORON!!"

In the end, the guards gave up and so did, that is, until another night.

(Insert comment)

I do have a name. It's Alexander Wright, the name was given to someone who seemed to have an obsession with aeronautical history, and since no one knew my actual name, the Vatican tried to give me one. The name was the generic John Smith. My boss called me by the alias маленький вор, or little thief. He still calls me that nickname even though I am seventeen years old. Then again, he is calling me that because of my age.

I was born with the genetic defect of albinism, but was gifted with intangibility (big word for phasing) and invisibility. Many of the Romany treated this as a curse and they would not allow me to join after the church bombing. Some wanted me to die because of my abilities; other wanted me alive so I can use it to kill things; I want to use them to be a good thief and escape artist.

My parents died when I was seven years old in a bombing in one of the churches. Since I didn't have any living relatives that I knew of, I was stuck staying at one of the Vatican-run orphanages. It would have been nice if I did not have a certain person trying to kill me, intentionally or not.

Some of them were nice; others were loons (especially one of the kids who was several years older than me), yet most judged me by my albinism. They always looked at me very funny because of my genetic condition. Sure, white hair and blue eyes would scare anyone but add the abilities in the mix along with the horrid sunburns from being out for too long would equate in people thinking you were something else. To tell you the truth, I am not so sure.

During those years, my skills in pick pocketing became extremely good along with my unnatural talents. I hid my talents very well and I was only caught once. Unfortunately, the one time I got caught, I get an offer for working in Section XVIII. By the time I did get caught, the person who hated me the most was running the place.

To tell anyone the truth, I did not want to fight the monsters that went bump in the night. I really wanted to go for a place in which my talents would be more useful: Section III. Every two week from the time I was caught till I was barely over two month of thirteen I would send a request to be transferred to work in Section III. Unfortunately, I was not given that respect and I forced to stay in the program.

I was trained everyday to be someone who can take out anything supernatural. All I wanted to do is to steal. A few days after very bad training session that almost ended up with my decapitation, I ran from the Vatican and hid in France via underground. I didn't care where I went, as long as I got away from them.

From France, I ran to the recently disbanded U.S.S.R. to find a job with a vory v zakone. I got caught and was sent to juvenile detention. There was another thief that was there.

(Insert comment)

"Why are you here in the first place?" He asked me in this awkward English with a Russian accent.

"I try to pick-pocket a rich man's wallet," I replied, "And the guards though I was trying to kill the guy." I still had a few bruises from getting my ass beaten with police batons.

"Whose wallet did you try to steal?"

"I don't know. I cannot understand a word of Russian!" He pulled a magazine.

"I might not understand the language as of currently, but I can remember the faces." It would have been a lot easier if there was a television so we could see what I actually did.

"You are not from here, are you?" he asked politely. I nodded yes with my head. "Can you tell which rich government pig you were trying to steal from?" I looked through the pages of pictures and unfamiliar writing as I went through. Then I had seen the man's face.

"You tried to steal the wallet of the prime-minister!?" He jovially shouted in Russian and a few who were a couple years older came up around him. I could not understand one word of their conversation.

"How long are you staying here?" he asked me.

"I don't know," I replied, "I was thinking of escaping."

"Good luck trying to get out of this place." My hand was on the table and the guards were looking away.

"Tell them what I am about to show them is a secret," I told the guy. He told the others. I phased my hand and half of my arm through the table. Some of them gasped and attracted the attention of the guards. I quickly pulled my hand out and placed it normally.

"If you are planning to escape," he asked calmly, "I want you to give this to my father..."

(Insert comment)

Shit! I'm rambling and thinking about the past again! When that thought was finished, I realized two things: I was in an unknown area and I almost tripped on a very sharp wire…


Now this is my first Hellsing fan fiction that I've written. This is also my first collaboration with a person (a fellow friend who loves Hellsing, but he doesn't have a FF account Update: He does. He is known as Sisheo.). Now I'm sorry if this chapter is kinda short, but then again... IT A PROLOGUE!

Updated: Edited on October 14, 2007
Updated: Edited and rewritten on May 2, 2008