Disclaimer: I don't own the Hellsing or the Hellsing cast (Kouta Hirano does, lucky bastard!) but I do own the plot and OCs. I make no money from this!

Author's Notes: I cheated a bit with this first scene. Just image the scene from the tv series. Though I changed some of the dialogue I prefer not to rewrite the entire scene/description over again. Sorry I'm still rather into the 'he said,' 'she said,' unless I can help it. I don't really know how to get out of it. Fragments at the end are intended. Beta'd by me.

A/N 2: Originally,this was going to be my first full length chapter….but it didn't work out like that. I'm not much of a 'chapter writer' I prefer impact. On the plus side, I have about half of the next chapter already done. So no super long wait (I'm planning on posting once a month).

For Updates about this story during the wait periods, you can randomly check my tumblr (it's on my profile)!


Chapter Three

Hellsing Oval Office

"What do you mean, 'you can't find her?'"Richard demanded.

"It's like we said, Sir. We checked the mansion from top to bottom." Said one of the three thugs

"That Brat!" He said, pounding his fist on the borrowed desk. "She waltzes in here last night, boasting about being the true heir to the family and then disappears! Luckily enough, in her hubris, she gave me exactly what I wanted. We have only a day and a half until Walter returns. We don't have all the time in the world. We need to get this done and over with quickly."

"I will not have this organization stolen from me by that girl. With or without the Queen's approval, Hellsing will be mine." Richard said, more to himself than the thugs before him.

"What should we do, Sir Hellsing?" The third thug questioned .

"Make no more mistakes. This must be done tonight There is more than just our skins riding on this." He looked pensively at the dark green of the felt on deep mahogany, thinking. "Have you checked the sublevels yet?" Giving the drones, what he hoped was, a dagger like gaze though they flew as dull butter knifes. But for such worthless, simple men as these it was enough to get the job done.

"Not as of yet, Sir, but it's more likely that she has already made her escape," said the main thug.

"No, that girl is still here. I can feel it. Black arts room, eugenics laboratory, autopsy theatre. Dungeon. I can find no better place for a little rat to hide. The brat is in the sublevels, kill her on sight. I already have the means of forming a legitimate excuse in place and our allies help to place the blame. Now go. I'll be there shortly."

As the goons left, Richard picked up the phone to place a call.

The air was fresh and crisp. The mixture of evergreen and deciduous trees gave off a pungent scent of freedom and ease, as she may her way up the umber path; strands of green overgrowing the rarely used path. Integra could remember vividly the times when she was younger, traveling up the same path with her father. She remembered the times she would run ahead of him and hide behind trees whose widths were wide enough to engulf her small frame. She would wait until he was a few feet away and pop out in the hopes of scaring him. Many times he would pretend to be startled but even to her young mind, Integra knew that very little could sneak up on or surprise her father. It didn't make the venture any less fun though. The fake gasp and the light that would show in his usually dim, piercing blue eyes would always make her heart happy. Then she would take off zigging and zagging up the path, but never far from her father's attentive gaze.

It was too rare to ever see any emotion in his eyes. They were always guarded in the with all the soldiers around, and her uncle.

The thickening air of the dust and grit filled his already clogging lungs as he descended the stairs to the sublevels, a trio of goons behind him. There hollow footsteps thudding on cold stone. The scattered overhead lights' dim rays adding to the hazy aura amongst the blackness of the narrow corridor.

"Found her yet?" Richard shouted to the two ahead of him.

"Not yet, sir," one of the two said.

"Well, get to it. I've waited over twenty years for this moment and I will not wait a second more!" He fumed. "We will find her, we must!" The sharp clicks of steel hammers clinked in the air.

There it was, cradled by a clasp of trees. Just on the other side of the bridge. The weathered white frame was graying, shedding its outer skin intermediately. The red top of cedar dimmed to mahogany. The crisp green shading it from the sun's light.

Integra remembered many evenings she ran across the now rarely used bridge to the gazebo. Her father, dressed casually in slacks and button up shirts, would trail behind her with picnic basket and blanket in hand. She would stop to peer over the almost neon white railing to peer over at the dark sparkling water of the river below. The sound of rushing water was always soothing. Small fish swam unperturbed beneath her shadow. Her sunhat alight by the sun seemed like a halo reflected in the water's mirage. Her white spaghetti strapped dress, her celestial robes. She would wait for her father to break through the treed entrance, her little shiny black shoes four to five inches off the red bridge base.

Integra remembered the brilliant sight of the sun shining down on them both when the image of her father as he came up beside her, giving her that rare smile, as she stared at the water below. He would tap her on the shoulder, reminding her of their reason for coming. Her father always looked like a warrior angel when bathed in light. 'I guess now he is.'

She made her way up the bridge. The once glossed brick red base appeared more like dried blood; the chipped surface showing the blackened insides of fleshed pulp. The graying white rails reminded her of the pallor of her father in his final days. But Integra made an effort to remember the nights of watching the fireworks from nearby cities. She knew that soon the stunning thunks and fleeting pop-blasts would soon not come from beautiful chemical lights.

It was usually during those nights that Arthur would speak of her mother, Elizabeth. Elizabeth was a strong yet compassionate woman. Her intelligence at times would stun even him. Those were traits Arthur wanted his children to have and once he saw Integra he knew his wish was granted. He met Elizabeth on an assignment: a vampiric attack on a small estate. But when he got there, she was the only one left standing, He loved her instantly.

The planks protested with subtle groans as she moved closer to the center of the bridge. The sky was now more of a growing blue crack in a dome of green and brown. Integra leaned slightly against the railing. She hadn't been up here in so long.

"Where is this blasted girl?" Richard fumed. "Integra! Integra, come out my little fraulein. "

The pitter-patter of boots on stone rang into the dungeon air like giant ants. Thugs in pairs checked each door they came upon. One would open the door and the other would enter to check it, gun and flashlight in hand. The squeaky groans of opening and closing doors littered the air marking their progress deeper into the heart of Hellsing. Until they came to the last doors.

The final door. The hall lights barely caress the surface. Crusted stains mare the surface.

"Mr. Richard, are you sure she's down here?" The main thug asked.

"We've checked everywhere else. Where else would she be? There are only a few doors left. Don't tell me you're afraid of the dark."

"No sir, Mr. Richard, it's just that—"

"This one is giving us the creeps, sir," another thug stated.

"Just open the blasted door."

"Yes, sir," the thug warily responded.

A cold draft waft passed as one of the thugs opened the door. None moved to go inside. A chill like spiders' webs leeched to their skins, causing bone and muscle to freeze in place. The darkness inside the cell made the minuscule light in the hall appear blinding. An unnamable piercing hum filled their ears. They looked into the darkness as if they were enthralled. They were not going in there.

"Well…get to it." Richard huffed, seemingly immune to the aura of the room.

The thugs looked at each other than at Richard in disbelief. Was he serious?

"Oh, move out of the way. What do I pay you men for?" He fumed as he stomped through the entrance. "Come on," he barked two steps down into the chamber.

Snapped out of their stupor, they followed making a point to stay close to each other. The feeling of webs was nearly suffocating as the finally reached the floor; nails began to press into nerves. They stayed close to the stairs. Their lights, dim in the pitch black, investigated for them.

"There's nothing here. Blast it!"

"M…m…Mr. Richard, there sir" one of the thug stated, his flashlight pointing towards one of the far corners.

"What in blazes?"

"Is that a corpse?" Another thug asked.

"Is it dead?" Asked the thug farthest to the back; all heads turned to look at him. "What? It's a valid question!"

"Of course it's dead, you git. Don't you think I'd be able to tell?" Richard scolded. "It's strange though. There is no record of this?" He said as he studied the remains uncomfortably.

Feeling emboldened, two of the thugs crept closer to the corpse.

"What is this doing here anyway?' asked one of the two.

"What did this wanker do to get left down here? It looks like it's been here for a while?" The other 'brave' soul asked as he started to poke at the face of the mummified remains.

"It doesn't matter! That brat's not down here. So let's go." Richard said as he turned to go back up the stairs. With a shrug the others followed suit. None turned back or they would have seen the two hazy pricks of red gleam starring after them. The final shreds of yellow light brought forth the harsh coal gray mist trailing behind them.

A prison of blue. Her insides were tight. Breathing impossible. The blue grasped and manhandled her, strangling her with her own hair. Cold hands thrusted her upward for short gasps of life only to drag her back within its embrace, dashing her against stones, ripping at her flesh and clothes. Variable fleets of red her ghostly companion. The yellow rays above taunting her, placid white clouds stood laughing. Sneering trees leaned forward to have front row seats to her demise.

Living in the past only gives folly to the future.

Next Chapter: Till the Sun Rises

**Feel free to Review. Any constructive feedback, or impression, is welcome!**

I realized I used 'like' a lot, please forgive me!

Big Question: Seras & Pip or no Seras & Pip? I can really do the story with or without them so it's kind of hard for me to decide.

If you're a bit confused, yes, the railing broke and Integra fell into the river.

And yes, I had to do that slight comedic scene in the cell. Character saying that in anime/manga always make me have a Nick Cage, "no, really" face. But seeing as this is Hellsing it does have more of a reason for it. Anyways, I got a good laugh out of writing it.

I am thinking of writing the story of how Arthur and Elizabeth met.