Hackney is a district in the north eastern quadrant of London. It has an area of just over seven square miles and a population just under two hundred fifty thousand. There are one thousand three hundred buildings in this area. A great area for a vampire to make into its lair.

The tan LAV25s of the Hellsing Institute blocked off a section of Forest Rd. The building they had under quarantine was 124 Forest Rd. Inside was the vampire. In order to clear the area out the local police had announced that a violent convict had escaped from prison and had holed up in the vicinity of the 120 block of Forest Rd. To help convince the population of this members of Division 11 were dispatched.

Seras had expressed her distaste of the situation due to her former affiliation with D11 during the time leading up to her unlife. Sir. Integra had dismissed her complaints due to the necessity of their presence to the charade.

The Hellsing soldiers had traded their drab fatigues for armed police uniforms to prevent discovery of their identities. The two vampires on scene however were dressed as they usually were. Seras had traded her former uniform for a pair of black slacks, a black t-shirt, combat boots, and a black three quarter length jacket. Hell was wearing black jeans, a white button up shirt, black western style boots, his scruffy brown trench coat, and a black stetson hat. They both looked out of place in the sea of blue.

"Mistress I believe it is my turn to go in. As it was last time before you rushed in, may I actually have my chance," Hell looked to the draculina.

"Fine, go," was her reply.

Drawing his M1911A1 he walked slowly up to the door of the building. Pushing it open slowly he allowed himself to unfocus slightly as he surveyed the entryway. Finding nothing he continued further inside, stopping sporadically to see if he could feel anything out of the ordinary.

Concerned when he started finding nothing consistently he caught a feeling from the basement. Cautiously approaching the door to the underground room, he used what his mistress had called his third eye to see what could be on the other side of the closed portal.

A small family. Mother, father, and two young girls. All ghouls. He could smell the blood of virgins on the air. Either the vampire was female, or it was what he had been told was a chipped freak. A vampire who had become one through the use of a series of computer chips implanted in their bodies.

Steeling himself to the task he repeated the prayer the priest had taught him so long ago, "May God give rest to those souls tainted by Satan's hand. Amen."

He kicked the door open and rushed down the stairs. Upon reaching the bottom he let his instincts take over. As soon as the pistol had lined up with a ghoul's head it discharged, the sound muffled by a suppressor. Within a second and a half four piles of dust held the last places of the once living family.

Hell felt the vampire the moment the bullet pierced his stomach, the unblessed silver projectile causing him pain, but no permanent damage. Turning as he fell he fired the last three rounds from the weapon, the blessed bullets causing the rouge vampire agony.

Hell stood and holstered the automatic since the other vampires had given them away. He instead drew his Webley and stood over the writhing form of excrement that had shot him. He looked upon the form with smoldering fury. Taking aim he pulled the trigger on the double action revolver, the long trigger pull causing the injured bloodsucker to feel true fear as the hammer retreated, then fell, striking the primer, which ignited the five and a half grams of nitro-cellulose propellent, and sent the two hundred and thirty grain blessed silver hollow point bullet through the things head, ending its existence.

Turning to head up the stairs Hell picked up the pistol dropped by the vampire. A M1911A1 chambered for the .455 Webley Auto MKI round. An old Royal Navy service pistol. Studying the weapon as he walked up to the first floor he unloaded it and placed it in one of his pockets. Reaching the first floor he saw a picture a of bearded man aboard a British aircraft carrier circa. 1942. Probably the original owner of the pistol, one of the parents of one of the adults who had died here that night.

Exiting as a squad of Hellsing men entered he gave them the all clear sign. He flicked his arm in a downward direction to alert them that the basement was the conflicts' location.

He looked up as Seras approached him, "The chipped bastard drained children. Two girls, the oldest maybe ten, the other six or seven. I didn't punish him enough for that, let us hope Satan can pick up the slack."

Turning to the LAV he had come on he stepped up into the passenger compartment and sat down, wishing to be left in silence for a while.


Hell stood at one end of the firing range, his empty revolver smoking from the last shot. Dropping the cylinder out he let the .44 Magnum casings hit the ground before reaching for another speed loader. Engrossed in his task he was unaware of Sir. Integra entering.

"Ms. Victoria informed me of what happened in Hackney. I understand the anger you feel, I am aware of the instinct Americans feel to protect children and punish those that would harm them. However I am not sure that spending the rest of your life firing expensive ammunition at paper targets will help with the anger any," she called from the doorway, careful to make sure that he had not finished loading the weapon.

"It was not right for him to end their lives before they had truly begun. What reason was there in its action, I can not even give it the thought of having ever been human," blood red tears welled up in the corner of his eyes.

Hell had always had a soft spot for children. They possessed something he had had stolen from him. Innocence. He had spilled blood at an age where he should have been begging his parents to buy him a bag of candy. The only reason he had lived was the vampire had decapitated his parents to prevent them from becoming ghouls. That was the only mercy it had given him.

"Sir. Integra. The chipped freak shot me with an old British Service Pistol. At the time had I thought it may have belonged to the family, a memento from one of the parents' father's naval service. However I figured out that it couldn't be since the ammunition was made from silver. I would like to try to find out who it had belonged to, return it if possible, or leave it at a grave if they no longer live. A sign of respect for a soldier," he requested as the woman had turned to leave.

She turned to look at him, "The papers listing the issuing of military arms during the 1940s through 1960s were lost in a fire many years ago. It would be impossible to trace it. Keep it so that it does not fall into the hands of another of those pieces of garbage. Let it fight against evil once again."

The night had always been attractive to Hell. It had always seemed more relaxed, safer even. It concealed everything that was not in view of a lamp, or being looked upon by the creatures of the night. It concealed the actions of those who would do righteous acts without being known.

As he wandered the alleyways of London Hell thought upon this. He had worked with the night during his hunting of the creatures, but now he thrived during it now that he was one. He also thought upon the unholy and immoral acts perpetrated. Rapes, theft, and murder. Thefts were not that heinous, but the other two he could only justify punishing with death.

That brought him to his current hunt. His prey was not a vampire this night, but a man. A man who had kidnapped a young girl and was taking her to his hideaway to rape and kill her. Unaware that he was being stalked, the hunter waited for the right time to place a bullet in his skull. There were very few people in this part of Riverside this time of night, but gunshots were still noticed due to the very strict laws regarding firearms, to the point of an almost outright ban on them. Despite the fact gun crime was a bigger problem in areas that had extreme restrictions on guns, no one in parliament wished the "uneducated" masses have access to arms, therefore making it near impossible for them to ever effectively rebel. It really made it hard for Hell to eliminate this trash.

Presently the man pulled the struggling child, she couldn't have been more than twelve, into a hole in a fence to a storage yard. Hell followed silently. He watched as the man ripped the girl's pants down, followed by her undergarments. As he started to fumble with his zipper he felt the cold steel of a pistol pressed against his temple. Releasing the girl Hell motioned for her to get her clothes in order and run get the police. After she had disappeared into the forest of storage pods Hell focused his attention on the scum before him.

"This pistol once sailed upon the sea fighting against the Nazi scourge. It belonged to a man in the Royal Navy, I know not who. However I shall let it mete out justice once more. May God have mercy on your soul, for I know not how to," with that the pistol barked out as the .455 Webly auto round pierced the man's temple and continued out the other side.

Shadows swallowed the man in the brown trench coat as he ducked back through the fence and returned home. When the police arrived they were unsure how to proceed. The girl had informed them of a tall stranger who had appeared out of the night to save her. She had then heard a gunshot as she told the officer she had flagged down while he was patrolling the area of the event. After calling in armed police to handle the situation he took the girl to a hospital. Upon the arrival of the investigators they had agreed. Some vigilante had popped up at the right time. While they were required to hunt for the man who had done this, they weren't required to put all of their effort into it.

The story of the Riverside Vigilante was given five minutes on the air the next morning. Some of the morning radio shows talked about it as well, with people calling in to comment how the trash that would rape a young girl should be removed, and other calling in to decry the tragedy of someone who thought it was right to take justice into their own hands and take the life of another man. Hell listened for a while before moving to his coffin. He had just lied back when his door opened and an irate Seras Victoria entered the room.

"Why? Why would you take the risk of doing this," she screamed at him, "What if someone had seen you? They could have managed to follow you back to Hellsing."

Hell looked his Mistress straight in the eye, "This was not the first time I had acted as the hand of punishment Mistress. Would you rather I had let the pervert have his way with the child and then slit her throat, leaving him free to repeat his crime. The justice system here in England is worse than what I was used to in America. I remember a story about a man here in London killing one man and injuring another severely with a shotgun when they broke into his house to kill him and take whatever they wanted. He was sentenced to ten years in prison while the surviving perp got off scott free. When murderers and rapists are let free because someone fought back, a new hand should be given the task of delivering punishment."

"I actually agree with him Ms. Victoria. However I disagree with his idea on how to handle it. I will praise you for discretion Mr. Grisham. Had Alucard been the one to do it he would have drained the man dry and left his corpse in the Thames. Try to keep your vigilante actions more concealed in the future," Sir. Integra announced from behind the flustered draculina.

Alucard came in at that moment to add his comment, "Master, I take offense at you saying I would pollute a river with trash such as that, or that I would stoop that low to feed from it. I would have merely rent him to pieces and left a bloody message to others who would follow in his path. I would like to know when your next outing will be held, the crime rate around here is horrible compared to what it was when I first arrived in London."

Hell shook his head, "Sir. Integra. Either they are torn into pieces, or they are shot execution style. However I refuse to allow rapist and murderers to ply their trade when I can stop it. And I agree with Alucard, they would probably give me indigestion. I will stick to blood packs for now, I believe they are relatively clean."

The knight muttered something about using a suppressor next time and left the room followed by the elder vampire. Seras remained, her glazed looked betraying her thoughtful state.

"I know that you would rather the police handle these types of people, but too many fall through the cracks. If I can save just one life by taking one that meant harm, I feel that I have served mankind in someway. I am sorry if that angers you Mistress, but that is who I am."

The draculina nodded her understanding and left. Having been a police officer in life she had not wanted to admit the fallibility of her former colleagues. She would admit that too many killers and defilers of women were left untouched by justice. She would say no more on the issue if he was more discreet in the future.

A/N: To start off. If the resident of 124 Forest Rd. Hackney, London reads this and does not want their address on the internet I encourage them to contact me with an alternative address. It was a random choice while studying a map of London searching for a location.

With that out of the way we are going further into Hell's personality. He hates those that would harm others maliciously. He feels strongly enough to actively hunt elements like that and slaughter them. At least he is more civilized in the manner he uses than Alucard would be.

And the part about English gun laws is real. I invite people to research these on their own before they start flaming me. What I put about the man being sentenced to ten years in prison for defending himself is true. The surviving criminal had no legal action taken against him.

Random firearms trivia: The British Service Pistol is a Colt M1911A1 pistol that was rechambered for the .455 Webley auto Mk I cartridge. The round dimensions are close enough that the modification was almost unnoticeable. .45 ACP has a bullet diameter of .452 in. .455 Webley auto Mk I has a bullet diameter of .455 in. The barrel, magazine, and markings are the biggest differences. All other characteristics of the pistols are the same and most of the parts are interchangeable.