Disclaimer : I do not own Hellsing, just a clearly disturbed mind. All rights belong to Hirano, Kouta.
Integra was in her office, reviewing a number of papers with a rather complex look upon her face; which was how she usually spent most of her days. What was unusual, though, was the content of these particular documents. They were CVs from people applying for the position of temporary personal assistant. Why was she doing this one might ask; the answer was relatively simple. Walter had hurt his back falling off a ladder last week, trying to clean god knows what again, and she was left without his precious assistance for the unbearable amount of two whole weeks. Hence, even if she was fully capable of looking after herself adequately enough, the same could not be applied for the two vampires and the legion of rotten mercenaries currently inhabiting the huge mansion. Thus, she had sent a request for a temp to one of the largest recruitment agencies in the U.K., stating the exact requirements needed and the corresponding offer provided.
Single, gender and age is of no importance, no existing close family (at least no one that would weep and mourn over his or her loss in the event of his or her tragic and unexplained death).
Must possess endurance, a twisted sense of humor, and a death wish (the former two are optional, the latter is prerequisite).
Must be familiar with atypical concepts such as the preternatural, torture, and eternal damnation (textbook knowledge is acceptable, we will thoroughly provide the practical experience).
Full medical coverage by renowned physicians (daily psychiatric care included).
Expertly trained personal tending to your everyday needs (feasible or not).
A unique environment, where developing abnormal skills required for your self-preservation is encouraged (after spending two weeks with us survival in any kind of environment is guaranteed).
P.S. It is strongly recommended to leave your sanity behind, before contacting us.
So far, five candidates had responded, three males and two females ranging from 25 to 35 years old, and she was now carefully examining their applications. They all appeared to have sufficient training and experience in their line of work; however, that was to be expected. What she desperately needed could be better described as a wrangler, than standard office personnel. Well, she was never going to affirm if they were suitable or not by examining some inanimate papers. A personal interview was far more appropriate in this case. Therefore, she had made the calls and was expecting the first candidate for his scheduled appointment in approximately thirty minutes from now.
Still lost in deep thought, she failed to notice a shadow forming in her office's left wall; a tall man dressed in black and red making his uninvited appearance, until it was sadly too late.
"What a fine evening today is, won't you agree, Master?" his deep, masculine voice echoed throughout her office, startling her momentarily, and causing the papers she was currently holding to disperse in every possible direction.
Lovely… just peachy! She had completely forgotten that he had a tendency to materialize exactly when she needed him the least, usually causing her a mini heart attack. She swore that this insufferable, constant pain in the ass was someday definitely going to be the death of her; one way or the other.
"What the bloody hell are you doing here, vampire? I remember giving you express orders not to disturb me for any reason today!" she exclaimed haughtily.
Much to her dismay, the question fell on deaf ears, as he was too busy picking up a document, which had unfortunately landed on his feet, and proceeded to read the damn thing with great concentration.
"I wasn't aware that I needed a babysitter, Integra, but thank you for giving me a new chew toy. I was becoming rather bored of the brainless morons you hired last week," he inclined his head with a demented glint in his eyes and a sinister grin clearly visible on his face, referring to the French mercenary and his band of mentally challenged degenerates.
"I desperately need a drink," Integra murmured as she sighed in defeat, reaching for a bottle of cognac, secretly stored in her bottom drawer.
"What an excellent suggestion, Master. It so happens that I am in need of a drink as well," he added merrily, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively towards her direction.
The dam keeping Integra's rage contained broke with a deafening cracking sound inside her head. She hurled the half full glass, she was about to take a sip from, at him and went for her gun, aiming deadly towards … no one! Obviously the infuriating bastard had pulled a disappearing act again.
Before she had time to retract her weapon and calm down, the door opened revealing two males standing straight, their eyes transfixed on her ridiculous pose. One of them was wearing the standard Hellsing uniform, looking not the slightest bit perturbed by the situation, identifying him as a member of the staff. The other, however, was nervously moving his wide stare from the undoubtedly maniacal woman with the gun, to the large, still wet stain on the wall, to the shards of broken glass on the floor, identifying him as the candidate, sent by the agency.
Well… he would have found out sooner rather than later, if he was to become a temporary member of this institution, Integra thought dryly. Swiftly holstering her gun inside her jacket, she plastered a pleasant smile on her face, entirely at odds with the situation, and addressed the poor victim with regality.
"Welcome to Hellsing Organization, Mr. Moore."
"Please be seated," Integra motioned to the empty chair opposite of her own on the other side of the desk.
He approached with measured steps, obviously still shaken by what he had witnessed mere moments ago, and warily took the seat she was kindly offering.
Integra took a minute to physically examine the fidgety male. He was of average height, had medium black hair, a well shaped face, and a rather slim figure. He faintly reminded her of Walter in his younger years, from some photos she had previously seen of him. Of course, the expression of absolute confusion and slight fear the young man was wearing right now was something she would have never associated with her loyal butler.
"Let's see…Mr. Robert Moore, age 29, born in London, currently searching for suitable work as a personal assistant," she recited what she had earlier read on his file.
"That is correct, Madam," he replied with a somewhat stronger voice than what she would have expected.
"You may address me as Sir Hellsing or simply Sir, Mr. Moore," she informed him coldly.
"As you wish, Sir," he immediately complied with respect.
"Good. Now, Mr. Moore, before I explain what kind of institution Hellsing is and what your job description entails, allow me to ask you a few questions. Please answer them as truthfully as possible, if you may."
"I'm at your disposal, Sir," he nodded, finally regaining his composure.
"What are your beliefs regarding vampire legends?" Integra asked gravely.
"Well, Sir, with all due respect, I believe they are exactly what you called them - legends," he answered truthfully, a little perplexed.
"Well, Mr. Moore, with all due respect, you had better make yourself believe if you wish to become a member of our staff," Integra shot back with a deadpan voice.
"Is this some kind of psychological evaluation, Sir? If so, allow me to assure you that I'm perfectly capable of separating reality from fantasy."
She had expected this kind of reaction. After all, it's not easy to believe in myths like vampires or ghouls, unless one or more of them were locked on your body, sucking the very life out of you. Time for plan B. Pressing the intercom she said with a commanding tone, "Seras Victoria, your presence is required promptly in my office."
"I am sorry, Sir Integra… what?" a high pitched feminine voice returned from the machine.
"Get your scantily clothed ass in my office now, Police Girl!" Integra shouted, restraining her sudden urge to strangle the petite female alongside the arrogant prick that turned her. Obviously, she was still mad from Alucard's previous misdemeanor, and the little vampire was going to suffer the consequences instead of her master if she aggravated Integra even more.
Apparently, the blonde female was smarter than she gave her credit for, since she appeared almost instantly with a 'Yes Sir' salute right in front of Integra.
At her sudden entrance the male jumped from his chair with a jolt. Not surprising, taking into account that the vampire had moved with superhuman speed, equal to the blink of an eye.
"You see now, Mr. Moore, someone must never dismiss legends as mere products of a demented writer's imagination, for they sometimes can bite you in the ass, rather unpleasantly I assure you, when you least expect it," Integra mocked the clueless human.
"I…I don't understand what is happening, but I'm sure there is a solid logical explanation for this trickery, Sir," he stuttered with trepidation.
"Oh, for the love of God, what more do you need to believe, you imbecile? Open your eyes wide and observe. Seras, would you mind doing the honors?"
At that, the blonde policewoman peeled back her lips, exposing deadly, gleaming fangs.
"Well, Mr. Moore?"
"Cosmetic surgery, Sir," he answered without hesitation with a smug look upon his face.
The man had an uncanny ability to think of anything else BUT the obvious explanation; which was starting to wear Integra out. There were four more candidates. Did she really need to convince this blockhead of the reality that surrounded him? If he wasn't hired, which was the more plausible outcome based on his behavior, there was no need to shutter his precious illusion.
"Why would someone resort to such drastic measures as cosmetic surgery just to mess with your head, Mr. Moore? And, if so, it would be more reasonable to have a breast reduction or a height augmentation surgery in her case, not prosthetic fangs," Integra finished exasperated.
"Hey… I take offence to that, Sir Integra. I'm very pleased with my height," Seras interrupted sullenly.
"Do shut up, Draculina," was all Integra said, glaring at her.
"Well, she could very well be one of those die-hard Twilight fans for all I care," the human male added with a petulant expression.
"Oh, for crying out loud, Mr. Moore, does she look like one of those to you?"
"Well…" he mused aloud as he observed closely the blonde vampire, thinking for a moment before replying, "… she does wear glitter foundation."
"What is that supposed to mean? Can't a woman wear sun protection care AND look good at the same time?" Seras bellowed with red hot anger flaring up, lengthening her already exposed fangs and transforming her hands into deadly claws.
At that, he paled a few shades, recognition finally hitting him hard.
"So, you see, Mr. Moore, the world is vast and you should be very careful not to insult the wrong person," Integra sneered with poisonous vice as the terrified human made a run for the nearest exit.
"I don't think we'll be seeing him again any time soon," Seras stated with a matter of fact tone.
"I'll second that. At least the agency had him sign a confidentiality clause, so we don't have to hunt him down and make his already miserable life even worse. Off to the next one," Integra concluded tiredly.