Disclaimer—I do not own Hellsing. $#& it!!! I do wish that the manga would come out faster, however it is never a wise idea to hurry things on. I am sorry.
Author's Notes—Yes, the synopsis is like Red, Red—another worthy Hellsing fanfic. I bow before you. Lost in the Dreamworld, Alucard's desire becomes a frightening reality.
AN1— Somniator is Latin for 'dreamer.'
AN2—This is one possible view to end the Hellsing manga series.
AN3—There are hints and references from my Hellsing fanfic series known as Bloodlust. You don't have to read but it might help.
AN4—There will be four parts.
Regards your ever obedient servant,
ImmortalisShades of the Unreal
One of Four
This was a dream.
A dream was the only logical explanation for it.
And yet, it seemed so unbelievably real—the sour smell of spilled blood in the air, the cool air brushing, whisperingly lovingly against her flushed skin, hot beats of sweat trickling down her brow and waves of smoke coating charcoal London. In a frightening sense, given the mayhem and murder, it was a beautiful night. The sky was dark as midnight black and translucent prey-clouds glided on some lightning-fast and unseen breeze. The twinkling stars shimmered under the blanket of clouds and darkness. The moon was blood red.
One word could describe its nature…Perfect. It was perfect.
The Sir Integra Fairbook Wingates Hellsing emerged from the endless darkness and stood in the mist of the carnage and chaos. However, she did not wear her typical attire—scarlet tie, crisp white shirt, matching trousers and suit-jacket with a smoking cigar crushed firmly between her teeth. No, it was a dream so normal attire-habits did not apply. Instead, Integra was wearing an old-fashioned, most likely Victorian nightgown—buttoned back, laced collar and loose fitting. It was pearly white with not a drop of blood or dust on it, which was odd, considering the blood and mayhem surrounding her. The gown whipped fiercely against her bare legs and her moonlit strands danced wildly in some unseen and deviant breeze. Her silver crucifix reflected in the moonlit gleam, which dangled on rosemary around her neck and rested on her sternum, between her breasts. With her blue, almost sapphire-stones Integra glazed about indifferently.
It was a dream and therefore nothing truly special.
However, it was quiet. Far too quiet for a battlefield. She half-expected to hear explosions, gunshots, the screams and moans of the wounded and dying. But no…she was escorted by constant waves of silence. Complete stillness…
It was uncommonly silent.
And she was alone.
It was the stillness that chilled Integra.
The thud of boot and the swish of a cloak warned Integra that she had company. Integra spun around and gave a hard stare at the dark figure emerging from the darkness.
The hooded stranger spoke in a voice cool as steel, wrapped in silky velvet, "It is a beautiful night. The sight is simply breathtaking." Motioning towards the carnage surrounding them the familiar figure said, "For eons I have dreamt of days like this—the world teetering on the verge of apocalypse. I must say that it is beautiful…blood and chaos. Such Hellfire!!"
Integra frowned, wrinkling her brow and studying the figure with growing confusion. She was dreaming, so it could be anything and dreams were anything but predictable.
The figure heaved a disappointed sigh and replied thickly, "However…the circumstance is somewhat grim, Integra—nevertheless the sight is exquisite."
His crazed laughter boomed over the remains of London and echoed into the starless and moonless night. The figure purred seductively, "Lovely night for a stroll, you know." Abruptly, the stranger held out his hand. It was a sickly pale thing with long skeletal fingers and the skin partly translucent and emaciated to the veins and yellow parchment bone. While the hand appalled her, the rich voice did not. It was inviting and almost hypnotic and charismatic, "Tell me—might I have the pleasure to prompt you, my Love, to join me? Accompany me."
The Hellsing-Heir raised a skeptical brow.
Seeing Integra hesitant, he added, beckoning, "Come. Take a walk with me."
Integra did not know whether to step closer or recoil. There was something so familiar about this dreamy character. "And pray tell me…who are you, stranger?"
"You know me, Integra Fairbook Wingates Hellsing." The footsteps were slow and tantalizingly deliberate, the pace almost mocking her lack of patience. The mass of shadows physically retreated. Her sapphire-stone eyes traveled upwards, studying the iron-pressed slacks, vest, crimson-blood tie, orange sunglasses and red fedora—the infamous figure dressed in red.
And of course, Integra glazed at the familiar pair of red eyes hidden in a mass of long black hair.
The No-Life King.
Recognizing him at last Integra huffed dryly. "Alucard…this is a dream," Integra stated as-matter-as-fact. Rarely did the Hellsing Heir dream, and in the uncommon occasions it usually consisted with sunny walks with her father and in some cases Integra was arguing with Enrico Maxwell about the silliest things. One time it was about how to cut a peanut-butter sandwich properly. In another dream, she and Police-Girl were singing karaoke, which proved fatal and dreadful. Her dreams never consisted with the No-Life King. Never with Alucard. His presence in her dreams would be disturbing, if not odd; however stranger things had happened. "Just a dream."
And dreams were never rational. Integra hated them.
The No-Life King continued holding his hand out.
She reminded stiffly, "This is a dream."
"How quaint!" With the lethal graces of a predator the vampire threw his cloak over his arm and smoothed out its wrinkles. His fingertips barely brushed over the sinister fabric. As if it had an individual mind of its own, the cloak traveled like slow and deliberate liquid against the breeze. The vampire shrugged his shoulders impassively and corrected dryly, "Not quite…this lies parallel with dreams. Two separate lines that lie together, yet never touch. This is not a dream."
She smirked doubtfully at her pet. Whatever nonsense was he sputtering?
"But on this most auspicious of evenings, shall I explain the phenomenon of this meeting?" Eager for an answer Alucard questioned, "Are you not at least bit curious?"
Feeling a slight chill she defiantly crossed her arms. Integra remarked, "It is a dream, vampire. There is nothing special or uncommonly unique about it. I shall wake up and this will become nothing more than a regrettable memory."
He smirked darkly. "And what if you should never wake up?"
Between Iscariot and the Royal Order Integra preferred Alucard to both of the fiends, even if he was a vampire.
But his words and tone startled her.
Suddenly Integra could not recall if indeed she was sleeping. Was she at Hellsing Manor? No. Since the war with Millennium she had not slept. She disregarded the fervent urges of Walter and Seras Victoria. Integra had an enemy to kill and she had no will to be out-done by Iscariot. So, where had she fallen asleep? Certainly not on the battlefield.
She did remember Dark Walter.
But after that, everything was a blur.
Was it even a dream?
Seeing her lost in thought the No-Life King advanced, inching closer to the lovely thing dressed in the modest, yet advertising garment. His blazing eyes traveled across her skin to her eyes. He spoke as he moved and no words could describe his voice, "I am curious Integra. So terribly curious. It is interesting…" The vampire cooed with unbelievable sweetness, "How terribly intriguing! Part of me wonders, my falling Master…I am so terribly curious."
She blinked and smiled but it lacked warmth and sincerity. Heaving a bored sigh Integra remarked coolly, "Curious, you say Alucard? Tell me, what notion has sparked your rising inquisitiveness? It is not a favorable trait."
"Miracles can happen," he mused plainly.
"And I never pegged you as a religious fellow?" Dream or not, Integra could hardly believe that she was playing this silly game.
The vampire confessed meekly, "I am not, but that doesn't refrain me from finding this extremely amusing, even ironic."
"This dream is tiring me. Speak plainly," she barked.
Alucard was ever so happy to oblige her. He whispered low in the wind, "I am insatiably curious Integra, my Love. I almost want to watch you fall, my broken angel. I almost want to watch you die…"
Beats of silence followed.I almost want to watch you die…
The No-Life King proceeded to encircle her in a swathe of darkness and coldness, followed only by his trailing trench-coat and cloak. It was the manner in which a predator would stalk its wounded prey. That act was similar to a cat playing a mouse to death. A Japanese proverb from the Ming Dynasty came to mind, 'the cunning warrior attacks either body nor mind, but the heart.' Integra refused to give Alucard her vulnerable back so she spun on her heel facing the vampire—it was a continuous motion. He cooed callously, "Integra Fairbook Wingates Hellsing, my Fallen Master. My beloved enemy. You look lovely, Countess—your eyes burned with hatred…bloodied, dirtied and divine…your face reflects how torn you are inside, how devastated…and how broken. Sweet Master…"
Shaking her head Integra said evenly, "Dream or not—you will not direct me so informally."
When had she bloody fallen asleep?
"Falling, but not yet broken," he mused out loud. That saying hit home, slamming into Integra's pride like a knife slicing through butter. Uncertainly flooded her mind. It actually hurt. The vampire took one sip of her misery and pain and found it to be exquisite and greatly pleasurable. His expression reminder Integra of a thirsty chicken peeking tears off her cheeks. Alucard touched his fingers to his lips as if he tasted her pain—in the physical sense. He replied in a singsong tone, "My angel is broken and falling…"
Integra looked again.
Blood. His gloved fingers were covered in blood.
"I can hear the Virgin bleed…" the vampire replied darkly.
Suddenly she felt as though something wet were dripping down her front. Frowning Integra glanced down at her belly.
It was one bullet.
Just a slug of metal. She glanced down at the gaping hole in her abdomen and swirls of thick smoke danced from it. Integra blinked heavily and scrutinized the wound, prodding it. Odd, she hardly felt it; nevertheless, her fears were confirmed when hot and thick crimson-blood oozed out, staining her nightgown into a darker shade that would have matched Alucard's eyes perfectly. Red. The scarlet-rosette bloomed cross the cloth, like a young flower eager to mature and spread.
It was just one bullet.
It was so familiar like déjà vu.
She touched the blood. Surprisingly it felt warm and thick.
No dream was this vivid. Elements of grim fear, uncertainty and revulsion consumed her like lotuses gorging themselves on the bountiful harvest. She felt empty and hallow, filled with nothing but her assembled qualms and dreads. Integra became stiff like a statue, shoulders ridged and unblinking eyes staring at the blood evidence on her flesh. The composure of the Iron Maiden, the unfeeling and unyielding woman of steel was forgotten. The Hellsing-Heir had nothing but the hollowness of mortality. Lifting her bleak eyes from the wound into the blood-orbits inside his sockets, Integra spoke in the plainest tone she could muster, "I am not dreaming, am I?"
Smiling fading, the No-Life King shook his head. "No."
Fearing the worse she asked, "Am I dead?"
Alucard shrugged his shoulders and replied, "Not yet."
Integra swallowed. Her voice was trembling, "Am I changed?"
A smile inched on his thin lips. "Again, not yet?"
Frustrated and frightened she demanded harshly, "Than what am I?"
The answer was simple. "Lost...fallen and broken."
Then she remembered…TBC
Remember—This is 'part one of four.'
I hoped you enjoyed it. Believe or not, I actually dreamt this and so, I felt somewhat obligated to print this. It was cool and yet slightly disturbing—plus it was like the OVA amine. Talk about being interesting.
Reviews please. Tell me if you liked it.