LETTERS FROM HELLSING XV

“I’m not too sure about this.” Seras said as we approached the barracks.

“It will be fine.” I said.

“They might be angry. There’s a big match on tonight.”

“Don’t care and neither should you.”

“The Captain will be annoyed.”

“Poof him if he can't take a joke.”

“Walter won't like it.”

Oops! OK, that one got me. “Were doing nothing wrong.” I said unconvincingly.

She gave me a credulous look.

“Technically.” I said We both stopped walking, visions of stern Walters radiating disapproval looming before us.

My nerve almost broke. When Walter found out about tonight, and he surely would, he would not be pleased. Technically Seras and I would have done nothing wrong. We were not prisoners. We had not been directly ordered to avoid contact with the rest of the staff, but the implication was certainly there.

This little stunt might very well cause a disruption in the household. Any disruption in the household would most certainly annoy Walter. An annoyed Walter might just find himself too busy to fetch me for walkies. I could very well find myself back to being a full time lab rat.

$%!##) !

I looked at Seras who was standing there indecisively chewing on a finger.

Oh hell Corrine, I thought to myself, what’s wrong with you? Look at her! These stupid frat boys have her cowed because they don’t want a girl in their clubhouse! So maybe you go back to the dungeon for awhile, so what? You can take it for five more months then you’re out! But Seras is stuck here well, indefinitely. She deserves better than this. If they weren’t going to be her friends they could at least show her some respect! They deserved a little freaking out. Seras was my first and only friend here. Risking Walter’s displeasure was the least I could do for her! Plus, it would be funny.

“Oh well.” I said as a smile spread across my face. “Let him not like it. It’s girls night out and he’s not invited.”

Seras relaxed and grinned back. This was going to be fun.

--------------

It really was a nice lounge, I reflected as I sat in Walter’s office pretending to listen to the senior captain or lieutenant or whatever the heck he was screaming about “undead creatures mucking about in [his] barracks !“.

Yep. Big TV, dartboard, pool table even...

“Exposing my men to a potential bio-hazard!”

Nice comfy couch, stereo...

“...depraved sophomoric behavior!”

Kitchenette. Put in a wet bar and a dance floor in there and you could have a pretty decent nightclub. ‘Club Hellsing; no service to the undead or the potentially not human’.

“Ms. Doyle.”

“Yes Mr. Dollneaz?”

“What do you have to say about all of this?”

I looked up with an innocent expression. “I don’t see what all of the fuss is about. We just wanted to watch a little TV.”

“Nonsense!” Interrupted the Cpt./Lt. “You came in to disrupt my men!”

“Disrupt your men? I asked for pepper.”

“You pretended to drink blood!”

“I did not. I pretended to drink tomato juice. I can’t help it if they just assumed it was blood.”

“You had it in a plasma bag!”

“I didn’t want to spill it on the way over. It’s medically prescribed you know.”

“You led them to believe that you were drinking blood!”

“Nonsense, who puts pepper and celery in blood?”

“You feigned disgust at the thought of drinking it.”

“That was not feigned disgust. It was tomato juice after all wasn’t it? Tomato juice is disgusting.”

The captain dismissed me with a wave of what, I am sure, was unfeigned disgust.

“Excuse me,” I said, “but did we break any regulations by coming to the lounge or break any rules while we were there?”

“Technically no.”

“So then, what’s the problem?”

The captain turned to Walter. “I will not have my men disrupted in this manner! Our jobs are stressful enough without having to deal with...with...”

“Deal with what?” I jumped up, surprising even myself with my outburst. “Why don’t you just come out and say it!”

“Ms. Doyle.”

“I’m sorry Walter but it’s bad enough for the men to treat Seras this way, but her own commander? Perhaps she would of been able to earn their acceptance, their friendship even, if he had had the courage to treat her like a member of the unit instead of systematically segregating her from the others and...” I turned on the captain panting with anger and pain, my wound throbbing in time with the pounding of my head and heart. “What chance did she have? You turned her into a pariah! Treated her like an animal! Do you have any idea of what she has gone through?”

“Mz. Doyle!” My head swung back towards the desk. “That is quite sufficient thank you. Please wait for me outside.” Walter’s expression brooked no argument. My jaw snapped shut my anger completely derailed. I nodded and staggered towards the door.

My ears were buzzing and I had a headache. I was unnerved and a bit frightened. Where was this anger coming from? This was not like me at all. This was like the incident on the steps on my first day here. A sort of blind uncontrollable wave of rage. This wasn’t me. This wasn’t how I behaved. I was supposed to be nice and cooperative. Always trying to get along with others. That’s who I was. That’s who I wanted to be. Wasn’t it?

There was a chair just outside the door, I numbly sat down. Something wet hit the back of my hand. I stared at it uncomprehending for a moment then reached up to touch my cheek. My face was flushed and wet. The skin was so hot it almost felt steamed. I hadn’t even known I was crying.

It was strange. I did not feel angry or sad anymore but tears still streamed hot and wet down my cheeks. Perhaps I truly was going mad.

I sat quietly for some time absently wiping at my tears which continued to flow in a slow but steady stream down my face. At least the buzzing and the headache were gone. My reverie was interrupted when a blurry green silhouette entered my field of vision and spoke to me.

“Ah! What’s this? You are leaking.”

I blinked a few times and the image resolved itself into Captain Burnadett commander of the Wild Geese. According to Seras, the term “Wild Geese” referred to the mercenary troops Sir Integra had been forced to hire to temporarily replace some men which had been lost recently in a particularly brutal attack on the estate. I liked him. He had been the one who had passed me the pepper.

He was a comely, if not somewhat scruffy looking man. His kind eye and wicked smile belied the lines and scars on his face which spoke of experience well beyond his 30 odd years. He wore less of a uniform than a military amalgam. It gave the impression that an army surplus store explosion had occurred in his immediate vicinity.

A handkerchief appeared like a conjurers trick from one of his many pockets. He offered it with a flourish. “Is my pretty new friend sad?” His accent, like his uniform seemed to come from everywhere but his heart, so he had told me, would always be French.

“Not so much sad as confused. Oh, thank you.” I said accepting the handkerchief .

I was confused too. I had thought the night had gone rather well. Only a few men had reacted hostilely when Seras and I had shown up. Most of them had simply but pointedly ignored us. Admittedly, it had gotten a bit dicey when we pulled out the plasma bags and began to assemble our “cocktails”. A few of the men had even left with horrified expressions on their faces but as soon as the rest realized it was tomato juice and not blood in our ‘Bloody Marys’ , they all thought it was pretty funny. Some of them even joined us in a toast to Sir Integra.

It had been Captain Burnadett who had broken the ice by passing the pepper over when I complained about the taste and one of his own men, a private Zelig, who had taken me up on my offer of trying my drink. He had laughed, declared there was too much Tabasco sauce in it and had offered me a diet cola instead.

After that, the room had warmed up a little to us. A few of the men, Capt. Burnadett and pvt. Zelig among them, even pulled us over and found us space on the couch. We had been arguing over the finer points of cricket (a game who’s rules I will never comprehend no matter how much PBS I watch) when the klaxon had sounded and Seras and most of the men had to leave.

Long story short. I had trundled off to bed that night thinking happy thoughts and feeling a bit proud of my clever self only to be informed the next morning that I was not to go to the lab but to report immediately to Walter’s office so I could be chewed out by Captain Underpants who hadn’t even been in the lounge last night.

“So Capt. Chambers has decided to make a situation of last night?”

“Apparently so.”

“Yes, they told me in the barracks. I came as soon as I heard. He, of course, could not bothered to wait until I returned from the mission to consult me for my opinion before running like some little girl to Mr. Walter. Ah, no offense.”

“Apparently not.”

“Perhaps I shall give my opinion now ne pas?”

“Sure.”

“He is a swine to yell at such a pretty lady.”

“I think so.” I said smiling slightly.

“I should thrash him for making my friend cry!”

“Oh, he didn’t.”

“Surely not Mr. Walter?”

“No. No, of course not.”

“Then why, may I ask, are you crying?”

“Good question. I’m not sure. But I’ve stopped now see? Thank you.” I said smiling and holding out his handkerchief to him.

He encircled my outstretched hand in his. “Women are truly strange yet wonderful creatures.” He said smiling back at me. He bent his head and brushed his lips lightly over my knuckles (French men do this quite well) while deftly removing the cloth and returning it to his pocket in one swift movement. He straightened up and gave me a wicked smile. “Now I think I should go give my opinion of Capt. Chambers.”

“You mean give your opinion to him?”

“This too.” He said grinning. “Adieu my pretty friend. We shall see each other soon? We will discuss your silly American football.”

I would like that very much.”

“Good, good.” He said still smiling. He turned to the door, knocked once then, putting a theatrically stern look on his face, marched into Walter’s office.

I had to cover my mouth to keep from giggling out loud. There was a calculated charm to his Gallic chivalry that made him irresistible. I am quite sure that, in addition to a long string of girlfriends, there were countless little old ladies dotted across the continent just waiting to feed him a hot meal or bake his favorite cookies.

He was just so incredibly likable but, like Walter, I could tell that there was blood in his past and that, again like Walter, he was more than capable of performing tasks without flinching that most of us would be too squeamish to even consider.

That is probably why I was fascinated by them both. You see, in general, I am not a strong willed person and, recent events not withstanding, tend to be quite soft and non-confrontational. I don’t argue well. I tend to feel guilty when others are angry with me and try to appease them so they will like me and showing my anger makes me feel like a bad person. Besides, people tend to just pat me on the head and dismiss me when I become indignant.

Now, when I was younger, there were a few instances where I had truly lost my temper in a very disturbing and frightening fashion. A rage would come over me and I would literally see red, then black. I would lose all control over my words and actions lashing out violently. It did not happen often but when it did it was horrifying and I was always ashamed afterwords. Once I left adolescence I seemed better able to cope with my anger and there had been no further episodes but I am still terrified of that part of myself.

Now, lately angry Corrine seems to be leaking out more and more. Leaving me an emotional train wreck. I admire people like Walter and Capt. Burnadett who are strong, forceful, capable of performing any task but always, always in control.

Walter. I just hoped he wasn’t too angry with me.

My thoughts were interrupted when the office door opened. Capt. Chambers strode out fuming. He spared me one glance of pure malice before storming down the hallway. Capt. Burnadett strolled out casually behind him, his face a careful study in neutrality. “Mr. Walter asked me to ask you to go in.” He said.

“Thank you.” I said nervously trying to get a read on what had happened from his expression to no avail but as I stood, he slipped a small piece of paper into my hand.

“Adieu mon petit.” he whispered giving me a quick wink before turning and following Capt. Chambers down the hall.

I entered Walter’s office with mild trepidation unsure where I stood. I glanced at Walter where he sat behind his desk for a clue. I thought Capt. Burnadett had a neutral expression but he was a psychotic bundle of nerves compared to Walter’s Tableau Rosa. I must remember never to play poker with either of them.

“Please have a seat Ms. Doyle.” He arranged a few papers as I nervously sat down. He folded his hands on the desk and affixed me with a stern glance that could have unnerved a suicide bomber. Walter is proof positive that neither noise nor physical contact is necessary to induce torture.

I shifted awkwardly in my seat, glancing around the office to avoid that stare. It was small, functional and very tidy but disturbingly impersonal. No mementos, photographs or personal ephemera of any kind. Not even a promotional pen from a visiting vendor. It was less of an office than the Platonic ideal of an office. A study in pure functionality. Being a highly sentimental pack rat myself I found it well, disturbing.

A clearing of the throat brought me back to Walter. “Ms. Doyle,” He began, “Despite the unusual nature of our charter, we run a professional organization here. Captain Chamber’s men especially are under a great deal of stress so we have an extremely low tolerance for the introduction of any stress by external factors.” His piercing grey stare left no doubt that the name of the external stress being introduced was Corrine.

I opened my mouth trying to form some sort of appropriate response but Walter’s gaze had robbed me of speech. Fortunately, Walter chose to continue his lecture thus mercifully ending my useless machinations.

“That being said. We have no tolerance of any of our staff being treated in an unprofessional manner by their superiors. Nor can we allow our fighters to be excluded from any barracks facility without cause. As a result, it has been made clear that Miss. Victoria is to have full access to any barracks facility, appropriate to her gender, any time she wishes to use them.

'Hurray!' I shouted in my head.

“But,” Walter added cutting short my internal victory dance. “I am sorry to say that as result of your little escapade, it has been decided that any non-senior staff members not attached to one of our fighting units, may not visit the barracks without express written consent of said senior staff or by invitation of an officer of the command unit. This means you Ms. Doyle and it will be strictly enforced.”

“Oh dear.” I sad not caring all that much. Then, a thought struck me. “Walter?”

“Yes?”

“You have to have known Seras was being ostracized by the men in the unit.”

“I was aware of the situation, yes.”

“Then why didn’t you put a stop to it?”

“I was waiting for Miss. Victoria to do it herself.” He raised a hand belying my unspoken protest. “Ms. Doyle, while I can control the policy and official conduct of the staff towards each other while on duty, it is not within my powers, nor should it be, to control their attitudes or personal opinions of one another. Any control or forced acceptance we might exert would be artificial and would only breed tension and generate further resentment.”

“More stress?”

“Yes. Only Miss. Victoria’s actions, or lack thereof, could change the attitudes of her fellow unit members towards her.”

“I see.”

“Of course I was beginning to despair of Miss. Victoria ever taking action. Even in life, it seems, she was never terribly assertive. The recent loss of her first commander and several of our men seemed only to make her less inclined to seek out human contact but her attitude seems to have shifted greatly in these last few weeks.” He paused to give me one of those appraising looks again. “Perhaps she is turning a corner.”

“Perhaps, but Walter?”

“Yes?”

“I’m afraid Seras won’t visit the barracks without me.”

“Probably not.”

“I don’t suppose you would give me written permission to go there?”

“Certainly not.”

“Then it was all for nothing?”

“Possibly. Unless, that is, you happen to receive a written invitation from one of the unit commanders.”

I took a startled glance at the folded piece of paper I had been holding in my hand.

“But that’s not very likely to happen is it?”

“No, of course not.” I said clutching the paper tightly. Was that a hint of a smile on Walter’s face?

“Consider yourself admonished Mz. Doyle.”

“Yes, of course. I promise Walter that I will not visit the barracks again without invitation.”

“Very good. Then I shall see you at 1:00 pm?” He said dismissing me.

“Yes Walter. Thank you.”

“Ms. Doyle?” He said as I was opening the door. I turned back. Yes, there it was again that hint of a smile. “Please do not take Captain Burnadett up on his invitation for at least 48 hours. It is the finals you know.”

“Yes Mr. Dollneaz.” I said, then closed the door quickly before he could change his mind about this afternoon.