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31_days2008-02-19 10:35 pm
redseeker.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2008-02-19 10:35 pm
[Feb 19] [Hellsing/Devil May Cry] Asphodel
Title: Asphodel
Day/Theme: February 19 - "And every creature shall be purified"
Series: Hellsing/Devil May Cry
Character/Pairing: Alucard, Integral Hellsing, Dante Sparda, Seras Victoria, Trish
Rating: PG-13 (violence)
[:note: follows bullseye, café fredi, & love planet]
"Still no word from her?"
Integra pressed the call hang-up button and set the cordless down. Lips pressed thinly together, she shook her head. Walter set the tea tray down on the occasional table and began pouring milk into two cups from a small china jug.
"She was supposed to check in after twelve hours. She was briefed. She wouldn't disobey."
"Perhaps she simply forgot?" Walter said, setting the jug down and lifting the teapot. Integra narrowed her eyes at him.
"She wouldn't forget, Walter."
He didn't say anything more until he had finished pouring the tea and brought one of the cups over to the director's desk. He spilled a little in the saucer as he set it down, and apologised. Integra did not appear to notice. After a moment, she stood up.
"Alucard."
Before she had even finished uttering the third syllable he had begun to appear, stepping like a ghost from a wall turned to a pool of shadow.
Nodding a brief bow, Walter gathered the tea things and ducked out of the room; he could drink his cup later. Integra turned and picked a cigar from the open box on her desk, and began to light it.
"You're worried about her."
Now wreathed in acrid smoke, the women regarded her servant coolly.
"You're not?"
"Why would I be?"
Integra took a long drag on her cigar, leaning on the edge of her desk. She folded one arm across her middle and stood with the cigar raised.
"I thought you two were fairly close. She is your family, after all."
Alucard didn't meet her eyes, instead choosing to focus on some indeterminate point on the wall behind her.
"I would know if she were killed," he said. Smiling hollowly he tapped one finger to his temple and looked at her. "It'll do her good to have to fend for herself for a while."
Integra felt a twinge of irritation at his apparent apathy. "Just because she's still alive - relatively speaking - doesn't mean she's not in trouble. Are you sure you can't reach her?"
"You'd have a better chance with the telephone at this distance. Maybe if she were older, stronger. But she's weak. Our link is weak as a result; I can feel her, but she won't be able to hear me if I try to communicate."
"Well isn't that useful," Integra said. She sighed, pushed off the desk, and stubbed out the barely-burned cigar. "I'm going to try her mobile again. If she doesn't check in within twenty-four hours, we have to assume something's happened to her."
Alucard looked uninterested. As though he thought she shouldn't be bothering so much.
"Need I remind you," she said, "that we don't completely know what we're dealing with? These aren't ordinary ghouls or underpowered vampires. The things she's fighting could be ten or twenty times more powerful than the low-level demons we've been facing over here." There was a stress in her voice on the word "demons"; it was still an alien term to her. Something still too akin to myth.
"No," he said. "You don't need to remind me." Integra thought his tone bordered on the insubordinate, but she said nothing. "She's more than capable of taking care of herself."
Integra forced her shoulders to relax. It seemed that, despite his jibes and digs at her supposed incompetence, he really did have some confidence in the girl.
After a moment, she rounded the desk again and sat back down.
"I'm going to try her mobile again."
They drove part of the way to meet this former partner on Dante's motorbike, which was an experience in itself. It was large and gleaming in chrome and red, and made a gutteral purring noise when Dante started it up. Sitting astride the thing, he looked at her expectantly.
"Wouldn't it be just as fast to run?" Seras said. She had never been on a motorbike.
"Maybe," Dante said. "But not nearly as fun. C'mon, hop on." Tentatively, she took her place behind him; the machine's deep thrum between her thighs was unsettling, but not altogether unpleasant. "You're gonna have to hold on," Dante instructed her, looking back over his shoulder. She awkwardly looped her arms round his waist, her hold loose. However, when he actually set the wheels spinning, and they set off in skidding, squealing urgency, spitting up dust, she gave a small yelp and instinctively tightened her hold, clutching fistfuls of Dante's clothing and pressing herself to his back. She held tighter whenever he recklessly took a corner, and she closed her eyes as they leaned.
She wasn't sure, but she could've sworn his driving just got more dangerous as the journey continued.
Towards the edge of the city, they finally stopped and dismounted. A little dazed, Seras followed him into a derelict tower block, trying to ignore the self-satisfied little smirk on his face.
They ascended the tower's grungy central staircase as it spiralled round itself in broken loops. At the top of the stairs, a tilting door opened out onto a flat rooftop; the floor was dirty concrete, with a low concrete wall marking the edge.
There was a woman standing in the centre of the roof, waiting for them. A tall, imposing figure, slender and long of limb, she wore skintight black leather and three-inch heels. Her hair was long and blonde and poker straight, her lips bee-stung and pink, her eyes glassy pale. As Seras and Dante emerged from the stairwell, the black-clad woman met Dante's eyes and smiled. She moved forward to greet her old friend, and Seras noted something feline in her movements; she moved like a panther, sinuous, powerful, ready to spring. She and Dante clasped hands in a brief, personalised handshake, and then the taller woman turned to Seras.
"You didn't say you'd be bringing a friend."
Seras coloured and hung back.
"Well, we're not really... I mean, um..." she tried, but Dante shut her up with a comradely clap on the back.
"This is Seras Victoria," he said, wrapping his arm around her slim shoulders and drawing her nearer. It was friendly, confidently so, but it still made Seras' blush deepen. "She's British." She saw the other woman's mouth quirk into a small, amused smirk. "Seras, this is Trish, my old partner."
"Uh, it's nice to meet you," Seras said.
Trish glanced between them, and then said, "Charmed. So you'll be joining our little party?" Seras nodded. "I hope you know what you're letting yourself in for."
"Don't worry," Dante answered for her. "She knows how to handle herself." When Trish raised one questioning brow, he said, "I'll tell you all about it later."
"Whatever." Trish checked her chunky black wristwatch. "Okay, it's nearly time." She moved toward the edge of the building, overlooking a large patch of flat, scrubby land, and facing away from the heart of the city. Dante slid his arm from Seras' shoulders, and the pair of them followed Trish.
"Time for what?" Seras said. She felt out of the loop, like a hanger on to this elite clique of two. She was the outsider, invited out of sympathy.
Trish turned to her and offered a knowing smile. "Just watch."
Seras obeyed, standing close to Dante. He had one hand on the grip of his sword - this time he had chosen the one with the skull decoration instead of Alastor, perhaps out of consideration for Seras' feelings. Seras scanned the area ahead of and below them, eyes narrowed against the sun. She knew she wouldn't be as much use in a fight in the daylight, but she had her own gun, and Dante had lent her a rifle. She pulled her borrowed jacket closer around her against the wind, though she didn't really feel the cold.
Nothing was happening. Her companions were still, and taut - prepared for something. But for what? She looked again, this time exhaling slowly and, carefully, opening that "third eye" her master was forever talking about.
There was something... There was a haze of energy gathering in the centre of the field - foul and purple-black, and condensing. Something split, and she felt something push...
"Right on schedule," she heard Trish murmur, and Seras watched, fascinated, as the sky above the dry, dead grass seemed to rend open, and through it stepped a creature.
It looked like a larger version of the critters she had been dispatching for weeks back in England - larger, and much nastier. It gave a rasping, triumphant roar as it broke through, and from its mouth a vile black ooze dripped bloody onto the grass.
Dante and Trish leapt into action at the same time, leaving Seras slack-jawed. The demon had reached the ground, and her companions jumped from the roof. Trish had already drawn a pair of pistols, and was firing golden electricity at the brute as she seemed to glide downward. Dante went headlong, running down the tower's outer wall and gathering speed as he went; she knew he would be grinning.
"Shit," Seras hissed, and hastily swung her new rifle from her back. She jumped onto the wall at the roof's edge and looked down; Dante had reached the ground and had his sword drawn. The demon was bearing down on both of them, its maw open, rows of teeth sharklike and black. From the wound through which it had emerged now poured smaller creatures, like spawn of the original fiend. Seras wrinkled her nose, but disgust swiftly gave way to concern as she watched the horde rally and attack.
"In the name of God..." she murmured.
Dante's sword struck wet flesh. Seras leapt from the roof.
There didn't really need to be three of them. At least, that was what he thought at first. After the first twenty minutes or so, he was beginning to tire; not physically, not really, but the things just kept appearing, more and more of them. As bad as Phantom's thousands of repulsive offspring, only bigger. It seemed that for every one he cut down, six more appeared; if he wasn't careful, they were going to get away from him, and if they got into the city... well, they weren't going to get into the city. He wasn't going to let them.
Trish flashed by in a blur of black and gold, guns blazing, heels kicking demon heads to mush. The larger demon - it seemed to take each wound in its stride - suddenly raised a clawed limb and swatted, catching him full in the chest and sending him flying. He twisted in the air and devil triggered, using the Rebellion form's slim red wings to right himself and glide to the ground. Newly transformed body crackling with red licks of flame, he dashed forward to attack, but found his way blocked.
Seras. He found himself watching her for an instant - no black aura surrounded her; the daylight diffused the blood red shimmer, and her eyes remained blue. Her teeth were long, though, and she uttered a raw, Amazon cry as she leapt up again, onto the beast's shoulders, and fired down. The thing rumbled and leaned as her bullets - lead this time, alas - bit into its skull and spine.
Still in his devil form, Dante made a noise that could have been a growl or a laugh. The red energy flared, and he struck. They made a good team.
Day/Theme: February 19 - "And every creature shall be purified"
Series: Hellsing/Devil May Cry
Character/Pairing: Alucard, Integral Hellsing, Dante Sparda, Seras Victoria, Trish
Rating: PG-13 (violence)
[:note: follows bullseye, café fredi, & love planet]
"Still no word from her?"
Integra pressed the call hang-up button and set the cordless down. Lips pressed thinly together, she shook her head. Walter set the tea tray down on the occasional table and began pouring milk into two cups from a small china jug.
"She was supposed to check in after twelve hours. She was briefed. She wouldn't disobey."
"Perhaps she simply forgot?" Walter said, setting the jug down and lifting the teapot. Integra narrowed her eyes at him.
"She wouldn't forget, Walter."
He didn't say anything more until he had finished pouring the tea and brought one of the cups over to the director's desk. He spilled a little in the saucer as he set it down, and apologised. Integra did not appear to notice. After a moment, she stood up.
"Alucard."
Before she had even finished uttering the third syllable he had begun to appear, stepping like a ghost from a wall turned to a pool of shadow.
Nodding a brief bow, Walter gathered the tea things and ducked out of the room; he could drink his cup later. Integra turned and picked a cigar from the open box on her desk, and began to light it.
"You're worried about her."
Now wreathed in acrid smoke, the women regarded her servant coolly.
"You're not?"
"Why would I be?"
Integra took a long drag on her cigar, leaning on the edge of her desk. She folded one arm across her middle and stood with the cigar raised.
"I thought you two were fairly close. She is your family, after all."
Alucard didn't meet her eyes, instead choosing to focus on some indeterminate point on the wall behind her.
"I would know if she were killed," he said. Smiling hollowly he tapped one finger to his temple and looked at her. "It'll do her good to have to fend for herself for a while."
Integra felt a twinge of irritation at his apparent apathy. "Just because she's still alive - relatively speaking - doesn't mean she's not in trouble. Are you sure you can't reach her?"
"You'd have a better chance with the telephone at this distance. Maybe if she were older, stronger. But she's weak. Our link is weak as a result; I can feel her, but she won't be able to hear me if I try to communicate."
"Well isn't that useful," Integra said. She sighed, pushed off the desk, and stubbed out the barely-burned cigar. "I'm going to try her mobile again. If she doesn't check in within twenty-four hours, we have to assume something's happened to her."
Alucard looked uninterested. As though he thought she shouldn't be bothering so much.
"Need I remind you," she said, "that we don't completely know what we're dealing with? These aren't ordinary ghouls or underpowered vampires. The things she's fighting could be ten or twenty times more powerful than the low-level demons we've been facing over here." There was a stress in her voice on the word "demons"; it was still an alien term to her. Something still too akin to myth.
"No," he said. "You don't need to remind me." Integra thought his tone bordered on the insubordinate, but she said nothing. "She's more than capable of taking care of herself."
Integra forced her shoulders to relax. It seemed that, despite his jibes and digs at her supposed incompetence, he really did have some confidence in the girl.
After a moment, she rounded the desk again and sat back down.
"I'm going to try her mobile again."
They drove part of the way to meet this former partner on Dante's motorbike, which was an experience in itself. It was large and gleaming in chrome and red, and made a gutteral purring noise when Dante started it up. Sitting astride the thing, he looked at her expectantly.
"Wouldn't it be just as fast to run?" Seras said. She had never been on a motorbike.
"Maybe," Dante said. "But not nearly as fun. C'mon, hop on." Tentatively, she took her place behind him; the machine's deep thrum between her thighs was unsettling, but not altogether unpleasant. "You're gonna have to hold on," Dante instructed her, looking back over his shoulder. She awkwardly looped her arms round his waist, her hold loose. However, when he actually set the wheels spinning, and they set off in skidding, squealing urgency, spitting up dust, she gave a small yelp and instinctively tightened her hold, clutching fistfuls of Dante's clothing and pressing herself to his back. She held tighter whenever he recklessly took a corner, and she closed her eyes as they leaned.
She wasn't sure, but she could've sworn his driving just got more dangerous as the journey continued.
Towards the edge of the city, they finally stopped and dismounted. A little dazed, Seras followed him into a derelict tower block, trying to ignore the self-satisfied little smirk on his face.
They ascended the tower's grungy central staircase as it spiralled round itself in broken loops. At the top of the stairs, a tilting door opened out onto a flat rooftop; the floor was dirty concrete, with a low concrete wall marking the edge.
There was a woman standing in the centre of the roof, waiting for them. A tall, imposing figure, slender and long of limb, she wore skintight black leather and three-inch heels. Her hair was long and blonde and poker straight, her lips bee-stung and pink, her eyes glassy pale. As Seras and Dante emerged from the stairwell, the black-clad woman met Dante's eyes and smiled. She moved forward to greet her old friend, and Seras noted something feline in her movements; she moved like a panther, sinuous, powerful, ready to spring. She and Dante clasped hands in a brief, personalised handshake, and then the taller woman turned to Seras.
"You didn't say you'd be bringing a friend."
Seras coloured and hung back.
"Well, we're not really... I mean, um..." she tried, but Dante shut her up with a comradely clap on the back.
"This is Seras Victoria," he said, wrapping his arm around her slim shoulders and drawing her nearer. It was friendly, confidently so, but it still made Seras' blush deepen. "She's British." She saw the other woman's mouth quirk into a small, amused smirk. "Seras, this is Trish, my old partner."
"Uh, it's nice to meet you," Seras said.
Trish glanced between them, and then said, "Charmed. So you'll be joining our little party?" Seras nodded. "I hope you know what you're letting yourself in for."
"Don't worry," Dante answered for her. "She knows how to handle herself." When Trish raised one questioning brow, he said, "I'll tell you all about it later."
"Whatever." Trish checked her chunky black wristwatch. "Okay, it's nearly time." She moved toward the edge of the building, overlooking a large patch of flat, scrubby land, and facing away from the heart of the city. Dante slid his arm from Seras' shoulders, and the pair of them followed Trish.
"Time for what?" Seras said. She felt out of the loop, like a hanger on to this elite clique of two. She was the outsider, invited out of sympathy.
Trish turned to her and offered a knowing smile. "Just watch."
Seras obeyed, standing close to Dante. He had one hand on the grip of his sword - this time he had chosen the one with the skull decoration instead of Alastor, perhaps out of consideration for Seras' feelings. Seras scanned the area ahead of and below them, eyes narrowed against the sun. She knew she wouldn't be as much use in a fight in the daylight, but she had her own gun, and Dante had lent her a rifle. She pulled her borrowed jacket closer around her against the wind, though she didn't really feel the cold.
Nothing was happening. Her companions were still, and taut - prepared for something. But for what? She looked again, this time exhaling slowly and, carefully, opening that "third eye" her master was forever talking about.
There was something... There was a haze of energy gathering in the centre of the field - foul and purple-black, and condensing. Something split, and she felt something push...
"Right on schedule," she heard Trish murmur, and Seras watched, fascinated, as the sky above the dry, dead grass seemed to rend open, and through it stepped a creature.
It looked like a larger version of the critters she had been dispatching for weeks back in England - larger, and much nastier. It gave a rasping, triumphant roar as it broke through, and from its mouth a vile black ooze dripped bloody onto the grass.
Dante and Trish leapt into action at the same time, leaving Seras slack-jawed. The demon had reached the ground, and her companions jumped from the roof. Trish had already drawn a pair of pistols, and was firing golden electricity at the brute as she seemed to glide downward. Dante went headlong, running down the tower's outer wall and gathering speed as he went; she knew he would be grinning.
"Shit," Seras hissed, and hastily swung her new rifle from her back. She jumped onto the wall at the roof's edge and looked down; Dante had reached the ground and had his sword drawn. The demon was bearing down on both of them, its maw open, rows of teeth sharklike and black. From the wound through which it had emerged now poured smaller creatures, like spawn of the original fiend. Seras wrinkled her nose, but disgust swiftly gave way to concern as she watched the horde rally and attack.
"In the name of God..." she murmured.
Dante's sword struck wet flesh. Seras leapt from the roof.
There didn't really need to be three of them. At least, that was what he thought at first. After the first twenty minutes or so, he was beginning to tire; not physically, not really, but the things just kept appearing, more and more of them. As bad as Phantom's thousands of repulsive offspring, only bigger. It seemed that for every one he cut down, six more appeared; if he wasn't careful, they were going to get away from him, and if they got into the city... well, they weren't going to get into the city. He wasn't going to let them.
Trish flashed by in a blur of black and gold, guns blazing, heels kicking demon heads to mush. The larger demon - it seemed to take each wound in its stride - suddenly raised a clawed limb and swatted, catching him full in the chest and sending him flying. He twisted in the air and devil triggered, using the Rebellion form's slim red wings to right himself and glide to the ground. Newly transformed body crackling with red licks of flame, he dashed forward to attack, but found his way blocked.
Seras. He found himself watching her for an instant - no black aura surrounded her; the daylight diffused the blood red shimmer, and her eyes remained blue. Her teeth were long, though, and she uttered a raw, Amazon cry as she leapt up again, onto the beast's shoulders, and fired down. The thing rumbled and leaned as her bullets - lead this time, alas - bit into its skull and spine.
Still in his devil form, Dante made a noise that could have been a growl or a laugh. The red energy flared, and he struck. They made a good team.