Hunting the Hunter
folder
Hellsing › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
30
Views:
6,954
Reviews:
12
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
1
Category:
Hellsing › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
30
Views:
6,954
Reviews:
12
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
1
Disclaimer:
I do not own Hellsing, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
When Is Like Not Like?
“Shh…”
“I can’t…” A sharp intake of breath.
“You can.”
“I don’t want…”
“You do.”
∙∙∙
Men didn’t wear their hair long. Not in 1950. Not unless you were Hellsing’s retainer, who had taken to pulling his unruly hair back in a ponytail because he refused to cut it. If asked why, he wouldn’t have a response, but he lived outside of normal society anyway. What was a bit of hair?
Then the man walked into the pub.
Walter glanced up from his pint and back down before finding his attention drawn back. The man was tall – taller even than he was, which was notable, since Walter towered over most people. He also wore his hair long, straight and black and flowing over his shoulders.
Walter looked back down at his drink. So the man had long hair. So he was tall. So his suit did nothing to hide the fact that his body was trim and muscular. So there was a certain mystery to the dark glasses he wore that shielded his eyes even on the sides.
So what? Men didn’t look at each other that way.
Deliberately, he turned away from the booth where the stranger had found a seat. He smiled at the girl behind the bar and asked her name.
Maeve had been trying to get his attention all evening. She was happy to tell him about herself, her work, her family, her tiny flat just around the corner. On and on while Walter smiled and nodded and the words ran in one ear and out the other.
He let his eyes wander to the mirror behind the bar. There was the back of Maeve’s head, and his reflection looking back at him, patrons at the dart board, the one waitress the pub kept other than Maeve, and no long-haired stranger.
Good. The man had been distracting and Walter couldn’t put his finger on just why.
“… do you do?”
“Hm?” Walter looked away from the mirror and back to the girl. “Oh. Nothing too interesting. I’m just a rich man’s servant.”
∙∙∙
Because she asked him to, saying it made her nervous to be out alone so late at night, Walter walked Maeve home. The girl clung to his arm and even went so far as to feel his bicep through his coat, which he pretended not to notice.
The night was cool and clear, a full moon riding high in the sky. It was the sort of night that always made Walter restless. It was a good night for hunting.
Maeve’s flat really was just around the corner, just as promised. Walter walked her to the front steps of the building and waited for her to unlock the door before turning away.
“Walter?”
Looking back, Maeve was standing in the open door. “Yes?”
She bit her lip and looked into the building. “Do you… do you want to come in?”
He thought about it for a moment, and then shook his head and lied. “Thank you, but I have to get home or I’ll be in trouble.”
He pretended not to see the disappointment on her face when he turned away and walked away without looking back. If he had, he might have seen the figure slide out of the shadows and pull Maeve off the stairs and out of the light.
∙∙∙
Walter lit a cigarette and shook out the match before flicking it into the rubbish bin that stood near his riverside park bench. The moon sparkled on the water and the city sounds kept him company while he sat and thought about much of nothing at all.
“The Angel of Death takes a holiday?”
The light voice spun him in his seat to see the little girl – Mihaela. No little girl, he knew. He berated himself for his carelessness; had she wanted it, he would be dead now.
He didn’t bother to sound friendly when he asked her, “Are you hunting in London?”
Mihaela glided over and sat on the other end of the bench, kicking her dangling feet. “Will anyone miss someone who would try to prey on an innocent such as me?”
Symbiosis. If she preyed on those who victimized children, she was benefiting society, not harming it. Was that such a bad thing? Was she evil to live that way? If he thought about it, how was he so different from her? He also hunted the predators.
Walter blew a cloud of smoke into the air and shook his head. “No. No one will miss them and I will not trouble you if those are your only targets.”
“Dangerous and not a hypocrite,” the vampire observed.
“If you say so,” Walter said, slouching back on the bench. “Why are you here?”
She could have deliberately misconstrued his question as asking why she was in London, but didn’t. “You.”
The answer straightened his spine and evaporated the last lingering effects of the drinks he’d had. “What does that mean?”
“It means that everyone wants company at times, and you are the only human with whom I do not have to pretend.”
Walter thought she sounded lonely. Did monsters get lonely? He never did.
Did he?
“How old are you really?” Definitely not the child she appeared to be, but how long had she been trapped in this semblance of innocence while everything and everyone around her changed?
“Older than this century. Or the last one.” Mihaela gave him a sly smile. “If I asked you for a cigarette, would you tell me I’m too young?”
He’d never listened when people told him that, and he wasn’t at least one hundred fifty years old. He glanced over at the little vampire and passed her his cigarette, only thinking about it after the fact that she would taste him on it.
“Who keeps you company, Hunter?”
The question surprised him, but then, he’d never sat down and had a conversation with a vampire before.
“I suppose I keep myself company,” he said after a moment’s thought. “I have to pretend, too, with most people outside of Hellsing. And inside Hellsing… people don’t keep company with Death.”
Yet here he was sitting by the river and sharing that with a vampire. Would he be speaking to her if she weren’t a little girl, if only on the outside?
“No. They wouldn’t, would they?” Mihaela shook her head and took a drag from his cigarette. “Humans fear death, and they fear those who don’t.” She said it with as much emotion as one might mention that the stars hung over the world.
“And what of the girl?”
Walter shot her a glare now and stood up. “Were you following me?”
Mihaela laughed gaily and shook her head. Her tiny figure and childishly dangling feet were a jarring contrast to her words and the casual manner in which she drew on the cigarette. “No. I smell perfume. Not an older woman’s choice of scent, and it is on you, not something you passed through.”
She watched him walk to the railing at the riverbank and look down into the water. How would he answer her? Neither of them knew until he spoke.
“She is no one. I’ll barely remember her name tomorrow.”
The little vampire smiled approvingly and slid off the bench to join him at the railing, climbing up a few yards away from him to lean over the top rail and watch the water swirl by below. “Attachments are dangerous for ones such as us.”
“I am not like you.”
Mihaela tilted her head toward him, eyes flashing red before going dark again. She gave him a sphinx-like smile and slid off the fence to walk away into the gloom.
Her last comment floated back to him out of the night. “Aren’t you, Angel?”
∙∙∙
“I don’t like this, Walter.” Arthur gave his retainer a stern look. “A vampire is trying to worm her way into your confidences.”
“I don’t trust her, sir, and I’m hiding nothing from you,” Walter protested.
Abraham van Helsing’s son rose from his seat and paced to the tall window to look pensively at the full moon outside. “She has sought you out twice. She’s stalking you. Never forget that to all of them, you are prey. Even to this little girl who hunts the hunters.”
“I can’t…” A sharp intake of breath.
“You can.”
“I don’t want…”
“You do.”
Men didn’t wear their hair long. Not in 1950. Not unless you were Hellsing’s retainer, who had taken to pulling his unruly hair back in a ponytail because he refused to cut it. If asked why, he wouldn’t have a response, but he lived outside of normal society anyway. What was a bit of hair?
Then the man walked into the pub.
Walter glanced up from his pint and back down before finding his attention drawn back. The man was tall – taller even than he was, which was notable, since Walter towered over most people. He also wore his hair long, straight and black and flowing over his shoulders.
Walter looked back down at his drink. So the man had long hair. So he was tall. So his suit did nothing to hide the fact that his body was trim and muscular. So there was a certain mystery to the dark glasses he wore that shielded his eyes even on the sides.
So what? Men didn’t look at each other that way.
Deliberately, he turned away from the booth where the stranger had found a seat. He smiled at the girl behind the bar and asked her name.
Maeve had been trying to get his attention all evening. She was happy to tell him about herself, her work, her family, her tiny flat just around the corner. On and on while Walter smiled and nodded and the words ran in one ear and out the other.
He let his eyes wander to the mirror behind the bar. There was the back of Maeve’s head, and his reflection looking back at him, patrons at the dart board, the one waitress the pub kept other than Maeve, and no long-haired stranger.
Good. The man had been distracting and Walter couldn’t put his finger on just why.
“… do you do?”
“Hm?” Walter looked away from the mirror and back to the girl. “Oh. Nothing too interesting. I’m just a rich man’s servant.”
Because she asked him to, saying it made her nervous to be out alone so late at night, Walter walked Maeve home. The girl clung to his arm and even went so far as to feel his bicep through his coat, which he pretended not to notice.
The night was cool and clear, a full moon riding high in the sky. It was the sort of night that always made Walter restless. It was a good night for hunting.
Maeve’s flat really was just around the corner, just as promised. Walter walked her to the front steps of the building and waited for her to unlock the door before turning away.
“Walter?”
Looking back, Maeve was standing in the open door. “Yes?”
She bit her lip and looked into the building. “Do you… do you want to come in?”
He thought about it for a moment, and then shook his head and lied. “Thank you, but I have to get home or I’ll be in trouble.”
He pretended not to see the disappointment on her face when he turned away and walked away without looking back. If he had, he might have seen the figure slide out of the shadows and pull Maeve off the stairs and out of the light.
Walter lit a cigarette and shook out the match before flicking it into the rubbish bin that stood near his riverside park bench. The moon sparkled on the water and the city sounds kept him company while he sat and thought about much of nothing at all.
“The Angel of Death takes a holiday?”
The light voice spun him in his seat to see the little girl – Mihaela. No little girl, he knew. He berated himself for his carelessness; had she wanted it, he would be dead now.
He didn’t bother to sound friendly when he asked her, “Are you hunting in London?”
Mihaela glided over and sat on the other end of the bench, kicking her dangling feet. “Will anyone miss someone who would try to prey on an innocent such as me?”
Symbiosis. If she preyed on those who victimized children, she was benefiting society, not harming it. Was that such a bad thing? Was she evil to live that way? If he thought about it, how was he so different from her? He also hunted the predators.
Walter blew a cloud of smoke into the air and shook his head. “No. No one will miss them and I will not trouble you if those are your only targets.”
“Dangerous and not a hypocrite,” the vampire observed.
“If you say so,” Walter said, slouching back on the bench. “Why are you here?”
She could have deliberately misconstrued his question as asking why she was in London, but didn’t. “You.”
The answer straightened his spine and evaporated the last lingering effects of the drinks he’d had. “What does that mean?”
“It means that everyone wants company at times, and you are the only human with whom I do not have to pretend.”
Walter thought she sounded lonely. Did monsters get lonely? He never did.
Did he?
“How old are you really?” Definitely not the child she appeared to be, but how long had she been trapped in this semblance of innocence while everything and everyone around her changed?
“Older than this century. Or the last one.” Mihaela gave him a sly smile. “If I asked you for a cigarette, would you tell me I’m too young?”
He’d never listened when people told him that, and he wasn’t at least one hundred fifty years old. He glanced over at the little vampire and passed her his cigarette, only thinking about it after the fact that she would taste him on it.
“Who keeps you company, Hunter?”
The question surprised him, but then, he’d never sat down and had a conversation with a vampire before.
“I suppose I keep myself company,” he said after a moment’s thought. “I have to pretend, too, with most people outside of Hellsing. And inside Hellsing… people don’t keep company with Death.”
Yet here he was sitting by the river and sharing that with a vampire. Would he be speaking to her if she weren’t a little girl, if only on the outside?
“No. They wouldn’t, would they?” Mihaela shook her head and took a drag from his cigarette. “Humans fear death, and they fear those who don’t.” She said it with as much emotion as one might mention that the stars hung over the world.
“And what of the girl?”
Walter shot her a glare now and stood up. “Were you following me?”
Mihaela laughed gaily and shook her head. Her tiny figure and childishly dangling feet were a jarring contrast to her words and the casual manner in which she drew on the cigarette. “No. I smell perfume. Not an older woman’s choice of scent, and it is on you, not something you passed through.”
She watched him walk to the railing at the riverbank and look down into the water. How would he answer her? Neither of them knew until he spoke.
“She is no one. I’ll barely remember her name tomorrow.”
The little vampire smiled approvingly and slid off the bench to join him at the railing, climbing up a few yards away from him to lean over the top rail and watch the water swirl by below. “Attachments are dangerous for ones such as us.”
“I am not like you.”
Mihaela tilted her head toward him, eyes flashing red before going dark again. She gave him a sphinx-like smile and slid off the fence to walk away into the gloom.
Her last comment floated back to him out of the night. “Aren’t you, Angel?”
“I don’t like this, Walter.” Arthur gave his retainer a stern look. “A vampire is trying to worm her way into your confidences.”
“I don’t trust her, sir, and I’m hiding nothing from you,” Walter protested.
Abraham van Helsing’s son rose from his seat and paced to the tall window to look pensively at the full moon outside. “She has sought you out twice. She’s stalking you. Never forget that to all of them, you are prey. Even to this little girl who hunts the hunters.”