For those who read it they can tell my Avatar fan fic is running out of steam, not that I intend to stop, or even slow down. This is my take on Hellsing, and once again I do not own the series, I own only those characters who I create. Unlike my Avatar fan fic, this deviates significantly in some places. Since I am lazy I just use an 'e' instead of an umlaut in some places. I ask for forgiveness, my German is appalling.

It was June 1998, and Obersturmfuhrer Friedrich Wilhelm Craebel was just another soldier in 'das letze bataillon.' Just another monster waiting to be unleashed upon the world, a monster with human emotions and a troubled past. Like all of the members of the battalion he was a man with an untold amount of blood on his hands, a fearsome killer who had sold his soul and feared what would happen to him one day. He fulfilled the duties of any officer in his status in any military organization, he along with the 1,000 fighting men who made up said battalion were all volunteers, and discipline was fantastic. However being shut away in South America in the darkness of the forest in the depths of the base, away from sunlight, often, there was not much to do.

So as part of the program the Major had decreed as soon as they had arrived in August 1945, they read books and watched media to keep up to date with the workings of the outside world. The late forties had been depressing and boring except for 'Nineteen Eight Four' which had been a wonderful read. Being detached from the world at large, Friedrich and the others who had read it could not imagine what was happening as a shattered continent attempted to rebuild itself. Indeed the world of Nineteen Eighty Four seemed peaceful compared to the world they have fled.

The Fifties had been full of war films, but the most interesting things came from America and France. He had read the books by George Lefebvre about the French Revolution then. Also there had been from America, many good films, some of which could did fulfil some of the stereotypes German Propaganda had presented about the United States. In many ways the decadence of that culture disgusted him, at other times he liked it, that is when the Americans made fun of it themselves, like in The Seven Year Itch then again Billy Wilder was an Austrian.

The Sixties had been cheerful with all sorts of films with higher budgets, and better scripts. There was such a wealth of media from that decade that he had a hard time listing it all. The movie that sprang to mind varied, but he liked 'Doctor Strangelove' and the books written during that period about the World Wars. He noticed as the decade went on that the movies became darker and less certain of themselves as things started to unravel. Friedrich had been to the United States several times and noticed what had been happening. The New Left was fundamentally different from the Old, in that it was completely useless. It was self gratification and airy fairy nonsense, not about pressing matters such as clean water, providing good public housing or any of the other issues the Old Left had focused on. It had paved the way, he had noticed with alarm, for increasingly reactionary elements within the United States and to infiltrate themselves back into power. Friedrich had shivered as it happened, it reminded him a bit too much of the lost Weimar Republic.

The Seventies had been depressing and the quality of the music had decreased, and everything seemed to be chaotic, with a loss of purpose, a sense of defeat, particularly from Britain and the United States.

The Eighties had been better, better movies, literature, and there had been of course the up-surging Japanese animation industry which produced such shows as 'Mobile Suit Gundam' and had provided him and a few others who were open minded, great entertainment. In fact every year at New Year's he and a few hundred others would all get together to sing "Fly Gundam!" They liked to see themselves as Gundam, against a numerically superior enemy. The irony was that all of them who were fans of the show recognized that Zeon represented them and Imperial Japan. Nevertheless it was a good song. The Eighties had also seen the introduction of video tapes, and music cassettes, so media was now more accessible and easier to store, more personal. However Friedrich had noticed something about the eighties that was incredibly sinister. Americans seemed to take increasingly cruel gratification in killing people, whereas before such practices had been condemned in media as an abhorrent. Considering the impossibility inherent in how these foreigners were killed by so few Americans it disgusted Friedrich, especially since when, even in previous decades when that had happened, the heroes had not lived. Now Americans seemed to be deluding themselves into thinking they were invincible, unstoppable, and indispensible. He hated it, it reminded him too much of what his own country had thought before it destroyed itself.

He stopped thinking about that, and instead starting thinking about going to see the gentlemen of the 'Opera House' as he had been ordered by the Major. He was in effect the liaison between the Major, who commanded the battalion and all of its auxiliary staff in reality, and the four Colonels who liked to believe that they did. He hated them because unlike the Major and most of the men in the battalion, they were Nazis, with all the baggage that went with it. That included racism, cowardice, genocidal tendencies. In other words except for one of the Colonels they were all golden pheasants. Fittingly, the only one who could walk was the Colonel who actually was a frontkampfer, but Friedrich still hated him, because he was friends with the other three. The sort who had screamed at his terrified comrades in the last terrifying days of the war, that they were cowards and traitors. He saw their type, safe, well fed, and plotting as to how to avoid blame for their atrocities, hanging good men from street lamps. On them they dishonoured the brave men with labels such as 'Ich war ein deserteur' or 'Ich liebe die Juden' or 'Ich war ein rote biest.' He knew the Colonel who could still walk, Diesler, had ordered many executions for desertion particularly among the Volksturm and Regular Army for not fighting hard enough. He could never forgive them.

Yet he felt sorry for them. They had wanted to be turned into Vampires, yet the Major forbade it, lying that he had orders from Hitler himself not to do so. He felt sorry for them for even though what they had done, in its entirety, the Holocaust, the brutality of the occupations, to their own people, they were aging. They were watching in frustration every day as they withered and grew old and became more and more conscious of their own mortality. He could empathise with that, and that is why he tolerated them, barely.

At the same time, none of the men of the battalion had covered themselves with glory in the final days of the war, even the Major. The Major had fought along with everyone but they had also assisted in killing many people who need not have been killed, by insisting on fighting and also by killing Russian prisoners who they captured. Friedrich remembered as practically everyone had shut their eyes as they massacred, and the Major had killed with a straight face, which was his way of being sorry.

He walked down the corridors of the headquarters ship 'Deus ex machina' the enlisted men saluting him. He returned their salutes and reflected that he was happy to be here, in a way. He was happy to be with these people, because there was no where else he could be for a variety of reasons. He also felt a tad superior to them, even his superiors such as Obersturmfuhrer Zorin Blitz, he had good reasons though. Part of it was that he recognized in all of them, even the worst, something essentially good, but mostly aspects of his own character he would rather forget.

He did not have time to use his reasons though as consolation as he was now in the part of the ship that housed the four elderly men. When he stepped into their quarters it was strange, it was like entering a museum, a disturbing one at that. In it hung a large Party flag, and an eagle grasping the swastika. Friedrich hated the sight of the bird. To him its expression, posture, and haughtiness symbolized everything that had gone wrong with his country and prevented it from taking its rightful place in the sun. What was also disturbing was the decoration of the place. Whereas the room the Major had was decorated with warmth that made it clear the place was home, with cream colored walls, and light green wallpaper with an elegant pattern, as well as the tea he drank with the hint of lemon and honey in saucers that, like everything else the Major owned had a sober elegance. The walls in this place were bare, and the desks in it, even though expensive and custom made, were so brown as to be black. The men themselves drank their coffee from plain cups and saucers, and ate from silverware stolen from wealthy Jewish families. The photographs on the wall were a treasure trove of records that any Holocaust museum would love to get their hands on. The fact that these men kept pictures of the Ghettos and Death Camps was disturbing, and would have been even in the home of an ardent Nazi hunter. However he knew the only reason these men would keep photos of death was because of sick pleasure they drew from it. The pictures of people starving, their mass graves, being shoved into cattle cars were fond memories for them.

"Sirs" he announced, bringing out the dossier from his armpit and extending it out to whomever may accept it "This is the requisition form for special rations for Christmas this year."

The Colonel who could still walk took it from him, hobbling along with his cane and said "Thank you Obersturmfuhrer, you are dismissed."

Friedrich gave the Sieg Heil salute, and then walked out. He sighed with relief as he did. The next part of his day would be more agreeable, adjusting his glasses he went now to see the Major.

When he got to the Major's quarters he found the Major sitting there as usual, eating cheese, apples, and Matzo crackers (which were there deliberately to annoy the Opera House group), and sipping coffee, that was seventy percent coffee, thirty percent milk. As he entered the Major smiled at him, not the half smile he always wore, as a result of discovering his love for war more than half a century ago, but a warm friendly smile. "Ah Obersturmfuhrer, please sit down, and have some coffee with me."

"Thank you sir" said Friedrich and sat down. This was a daily ritual with the things they ate and drank being varied every so often. The Major's smile faded back to his half smile. Until now the meetings had been mundane, discussing how discipline was, how the Opera House was, how some of Friedrich's media gathering expeditions had gone. It could be boring, but it was reassuringly banal, it reminded Friedrich Craebel of his home country, which he only saw when gathering media. It also was a comfortably human eating activity, as opposed what he had to do now and that was to drink blood to get true nutrition. He picked up his coffee, which whenever he came was how he liked it, hot, but not burning, and being thirty percent milk. It tasted good, its creamy, soft yet hard texture going easily down his throat, like good white wine. He could do this as unlike the other soldiers he could consume limited amounts of normal food and drink without coughing it all up.

The Major sipped his coffee and said "It is time we began speaking about war, Obersturmfuhrer, and not in the abstract as we have for fifty three years but actually about going to war. I speak of course about Operation Sealion 2, of which you and I are aware of the broad objectives, but we have yet to actually formulate the final attack plan."

"Sir, are you sure you want to do this? Now?" asked Friedrich. He was not surprised, not in the least. If anything he was relieved and excited. They could all relive that glorious endless war, when they had seemed to be quixotically taking on the world and...Friedrich suddenly felt ashamed of himself for thinking those thoughts but they were hard to resist.

"Yes I am perfectly sure Obersturmfuhrer. I am sure as we have waited long enough, amassing the appropriate number of soldiers, munitions of war, scouting out London decade by decade, gathering media and literature so we are aware of the outside world and its progress. Now is the time to finally use all that knowledge in the pleasurable act of war. So I will not require you to go on another scouting expedition of London, or gathering more media. I instead require you to draw up a plan of attack, on Hellsing manor, and the instigation of paranormal incidents within Britain, to test the fighting strength of the enemy. You will submit the plan to me for approval when you are finished. If I am satisfied, then you will be allowed to set it in motion."

Friedrich interrupted having just finished a slice of apple. "Sir, I am not a staff officer. I never attended the Kriegsakademie. I am not sure that the plan will be of sufficient quality."

He bit down and chewed on a matzo cracker as the Major chuckled. "Obersturmfuhrer, you have spent the last fifty years reading almost nothing but military literature and it is of your own choosing. You are the closest thing I have to a staff officer, that is why I have asked you." Friedrich swallowed the cracker, and inserted some cheese into his mouth as the Major went on. "You shall not be alone. You shall draw up this plan with Obersturmfuhrer Blitz and the Valentine Brothers. The Captain will supervise you."

Friedrich swallowed nervously "Sir, the Valentine brothers? They sir are not qualified military personnel. Obersturmfuhrer Blitz and I do not get along."

The Major chuckled again "Yes I know it will be amusing to watch you two argue. In addition to attacking Hellsing manor as I have mentioned, before we even attack I want you to organise a series of incidents designed to test the fighting power of the Hellsing organization. Those who we use are expected to die, but that is perfectly acceptable. You are one of the few people on this base who could safely organise that and not look too conspicuous. I think you now see why I included the Valentine brothers."

Friedrich smiled "Yes, expendable scum who have betrayed their country. I will use them accordingly Sturmbannfuhrer." He swallowed some more coffee.

"Excellent so, plan a few incidents, but not too many, and a probing attack on Hellsing manor, without getting any of our men killed. We want to draw out Alucard and see just how strong he is, so we may know what must be done. You are also responsible for enlisting the help of the Vampires, and implanting them with the chips, so that we have the necessary data, without having to risk anybody. I look forward to seeing two opposite personalities clash, in you and Zorin, Obersturmfuhrer. Someone with your ideology paired with her, will be so amusing." This time the coffee went down nervously. Friedrich was always disturbed by the fact that the Major had discovered his secret, and the way that secret had been used it against him. "Anyway once you have finished I want you to get on with this task straight away, your unique ability is needed, so you will have to do some travelling, just inform me when that is necessary and I will arrange it."

Friedrich finished his coffee, then stood up. The Major said "Do not worry Friedrich I have every confidence you can do this, given your ideas and where you are now, I would say that determination is needed. I would not worry too much about Blitz, she may argue, but she will listen."

Friedrich gave the Major the Regular Army salute, and the other man returned it. As Friedrich left to go find Blitz, and he knew where to find her, he thought about how that salute was the only sign, even amongst themselves of their friendship. "Do this for me Obersturmfuhrer and I will explain to you my reasons for this war, and I think you will approve, but only if you do this."

"I will be done Sturmbannfuhrer, I promise you."