Chapter Text
Dick scampers through the old air vents of the basement as quickly as he can, making as little noise as possible. His uncle’s men are still looking for him after three days of avoiding them. By contrast, Uncle Richard’s men are trampling around his home like a herd of elephants. Dick was under the impression these men were meant to be trained in the art of vampire hunting. How they do it without alerting any bloodsuckers is beyond him.
It’s been three long days of avoiding adults Dick thought he could trust. Three long days of barely anything to eat or drink. Three long days since his father finally succumbed to the poison ravaging his system; telling Dick that he was his successor to Hellsing, before dying right in front of Dick. Three days since his father asked his uncle to support Dick with his dying words. Three days since his uncle lied right to his father’s face. Three days since Dick has been running for his life.
A wave of despair and grief floods over Dick. He misses his father so much. If only he were here then Dick wouldn’t crawling along the dusty air vents, looking for a long-forgotten basement. Dick’s father had never been one for vague statements, which is exactly why Dick had remembered his father’s words so clearly.
“If you should encounter extreme danger, or if you should be overrun by the enemy with no escape, go to the forgotten dungeon beneath Hellsing. There lies a means to protect you. There you will find an “achievement” of the Hellsing family’s effort”
Uncle Richard’s voice carries through the air vents; and with fury beginning to crawl through his veins, Dick hears his uncle telling his men to kill him on sight. It pushes Dick on, through the warren of vents that Dick had never understood why his father had forced him to memorise. Dick’s grateful now, but the fact he’d had to remember the vents and the overall layout of Hellsing’s headquarters means that his father had a suspicion that Uncle Richard would try for a hostile takeover.
Dick finally finds the junction to drop out of, right by the abandoned basement and slips out as quietly as he can. The basement door is right there, a painted red sigil covering the entire thing. Dick supposes that makes sense. There’s a weapon in there to keep him safe. A secret weapon would need magic to hide it.
He takes a deep breath, putting both hands on the door handle, pulling it open. He sees a vision; an image of a monster in red, with glowing eyes, attacking and killing Hellsing soldiers with no remorse or hesitation. Of the same monster being bound and locked up in this room beyond the door. It’s a heavy, metal thing, and it takes all of Dick’s strength to get it to shift even the smallest distance. Eventually it swings open with a barely there creak. The basement is not quite pitch black and Dick takes a second to steel his nerves before he steps inside, pulling the door closed behind him quickly.
With the door shut and only the smallest of windows letting in any light, it takes Dick a moment to be able to see. There’s nothing in the room but a dried up old corpse. There’s another flash of images, and Dick sees the monster that killed those Hellsing soldiers from the vision before, getting locked into this cell. Which means this corpse is the monster he saw earlier, only now with white hair.
Dick only knows that Uncle Richard has found him with the bullet grazes his shoulder, knocking him from his feet into the darkened room. Dick’s blood splatters onto the ground, and falling hurts, but not as much as knowing that it’s his own flesh and blood that’s about to kill him. “Twenty years I wanted for my brother-in-law to die! I’ll never let you have Hellsing, it’s mine!”
“Hellsing’s future was left with me because you’re like this, Uncle Richard!” Dick clutches at his upper arm, glaring up at the man he’d thought he could trust; the man his father had thought he could trust. Dick’s not even angry for himself, he’s angry for his father being betrayed.
Dick hears a ghostly voice inside his head. “You don’t want to die now?” The white haired corpse has moved. It’s... It’s licking at the blood splatter on the floor. It moves suddenly attacking one of Richard’s flunkies ripping his head off, lifting it up above his mouth to drink all the blood that seeps out.
“A vampire?” Dick whispers in shock. “This is the result “achieved”? What was my family studying?” Richard’s other flunky goes down just as easily, his headless corpse landing on the ground with a soft thud.
The vampire rips Richard’s arm off, blood flying everywhere, and Richard falls to the floor, screaming and moaning, slipping in the blood surrounding him. Dick grabs Richard’s gun, aiming it at the vampire.
“You’re the one that awakened me?” The vampire smirks down at Dick, his unblinking gaze terrifyingly intense. His long hair is now black, falling over those glowing red eyes, but doing nothing to hide them.
“Don’t come any closer, monster!” Dick yells, his hands steady on the gun. All the years of training his father had put him through are paying off at this moment.
“Your blood made the finest wake-up drink after twenty years of sleeping.” The vampire smirks. Dick shoots the monster three times, leaving massive bullet holes in the shape of his body, but within a blink of an eye it’s had no effect. The bullet holes are gone as if they’d never even been there in the first place. He moves swiftly, pushing Dick up against the wall of the cell, and smirking into his face. “If you obey me, all these powers become yours.” He offers, smirking as if he thinks he’s being generous!
“You devil.” Dick snaps, putting as much anger and authority into his voice as any twelve year can muster. As if he’d ever accept to become some blood-sucker’s servant. “I’m Richard Wayne Grayson Hellsing, the head of the Hellsing Organisation! I’ll never let a vampire tell me what to do!”
“It’s no use using a gun on me.” The vampire says, pretty much ignoring Dick’s outburst. It even tries for a reasonable tone. “Kid, give up and listen to me.”
“Shut the hell up! I won’t give up. I’ll never give up, even if I die.” Dick yells, standing up a little more, letting his pride and anger fuel him as he refuses and denies the monster in front of him. “That’s my pride as the head of Hellsing!”
“Wonderful! It’s really wonderful!” The vampire leers, pushing his face closer to Dick’s, hunger and want clear on his face. He seems genuinely delighted, but there’s a weird undercurrent to his body language, Dick notices. Everything is subtly off about this vampire. It’s a dark feeling that Dick hates, but is slightly intrigued by. “There’s a rage swelling between my legs.”
Dick’s so shocked he doesn’t even think before he acts, one shaking hand letting go of the gun to slap the vampire as hard as he can in the face. The vampire’s head doesn’t even move. There’s no sign that he’s even been hit, despite how much Dick’s hand is stinging. “I’m twelve!”
“Ah, so you are...” The vampire says, blinking once as if seeing Dick for the first time as the youth he is. “No wonder, you’re the son of that family.” In less than a heartbeat he’s kneeling down so far that he’s practically sitting on the floor “Please forgive all my impoliteness, Sir Hellsing. Give me an order, my Master.”
“Don’t be ridiculous! A brat and a monster?” Richard snarls, pushing himself up from the floor awkwardly and slowly with only one arm. He’s so angry he’s frothing at the mouth, and gesturing wildly with his remaining arm. “Hellsing is mine!”
“Your blood really fucking stinks, Richard.” The vampire says, his voice practically dripping with disdain and disgust for Uncle Richard. He looks at him over his shoulder before turning back to Dick, clearly dismissing him from his attention. “You’re not qualified to be the master of this place.”
Richard shoots at Dick, but the vampire’s arm takes the bullet. He barely even flinches, absorbing it before it can do Dick any harm. Seems like the vampire’s serious about being Dick being his master. At least enough to protect him, if nothing else. He’s proven that if he wanted Dick dead, he’d be dead. So, Dick rests the gun on the vampire’s arm. Dick takes aim and squeezes the trigger, sending three bullets into his Uncle Richard’s head. He should feel sadness and guilt and grief. Instead he feels nothing. The vampire kneeling in front of him grins on deeply approvingly.
***
The vampire escorts him to his father’s study. Dick takes a moment to breathe in the familiar sight of his father’s desk, the extremely high-backed chairs, the shelves and shelves of books, the various miscellanea on the side tables, the chess set and globe that fill a very Victorian study, before he turns to the still grinning vampire.
“So, what do I call you?” Dick moves his hands behind his back so the vampire can’t see how hard he’s clenching them. He’s not scared, he’s angry at the situation he’s been put in. And now he has to lead a paramilitary organisation at the age of twelve.
“Whatever you wish, Master.” The vampire says, bowing slightly. Dick can’t help but feel mocked. After a pause the vampire adds. “Your father called me Alucard.”
“Alucard?” Dick blinks, considering it. “Isn’t that just Dracula backwards?”
It’s the vampire, Alucard’s, turn to blink. “Ah. Yes.”
“Well, I’m not calling you that. It’s ridiculous.” Dick says trying to keep his temper even. It’s not Alucard’s fault he has a really obvious name. He scans the familiar surroundings, and his eyes fall on a small model ship of the Argo. “I’m going to call you... Jason.”
“Well, that’s certainly very... Greek.” Is all the vampire says, his smile still frozen rather maniacally on his face. It’s disconcerting, to say the least.
“Is that a problem?” Dick says, looking down at his blood-soaked arm. He ought to wrap that bullet graze up.
“No, Master.” Jason grins. “The fact your arm is still bleeding is a problem, though.”
Dick scoffs, going over to the cabinet that his father keeps... Kept his first aid kit in. He pulls the box out and opens it, taking out the iodine and bandages. He undoes his shirt, sliding his arm out and manages to apply the iodine, but struggles with doing the bandages one handed. Jason moves silently and ties the bandage up tightly without being asked, or even showing any interest in the blood dripping down Dick’s arm. In fact, he wipes Dick’s arm down with a bit of padding, throwing the dirty, used pad in a nearby bin without the slightest hint of anything on his face.
He moves away as Dick gets to his feet, pulling his shirt back on. “You want orders, Jason?” Dick says, standing up as straight as he can; putting some steel in his backbone.
“Yes, Master.” Jason smirks, his long black hair sweeping in front of his glowing red eyes. Dick thinks one of the orders he’ll need to give in the next few days is for the vampire to have a haircut.
“Bring me the remaining rebels. Alive. We need to clean house.” Dick says, trying his best to sound authoritative. He thinks he mostly manages it, but the unfortunate crack in his voice can’t be helped. Dick hates puberty. It’s so embarrassing. “Go.”
“Yes, Master.” Jason bows, giving another one of those mocking grins. But this time there’s a hint of pleasure in it. Or maybe satisfaction.
Dick takes the moment alone to breathe out the air in his lungs that he’d been holding in since he first found Jason’s cell. He rests a shaking hand on his father’s desk. But it’s not his father’s desk. Not anymore. It’s his. He goes around and sits in his-now-not-his-father’s chair. Sitting down, his feet barely brush the ground. He feels dwarfed by the furniture, like the world has receded a great distance just by the act of being that side of the desk. He closes his eyes, sitting back in the chair and mentally taking ownership of not just where he’s sitting, of this desk, this office, but of the Hellsing Organisation, and it’s duty to protect the country.
Jason melts out of the floor, a smirk fixed like stone on his face. Out of the shadows he brings with him spill four men. Dick’s heart twists as he recognises all of them. While two of them are unsurprising, given their closeness with his now deceased uncle, the other two make his eyebrows rise.
“Cleaning house, as requested, Master.” Jason grins wider, giving another small bow. It should be mocking but the way he keeps eye contact with Dick keeps it from feeling that way.
“Thank you, Jason.” Dick says, his tone clipped. He thinks about forcing his voice to go deeper, but he sees the discomfort on Pennyworth’s face, and he realises he can use his age to discomfort his opponents. “Chambers, Michaelthwaite. It’s no surprise you’re here.”
“Your uncle-” Michaelthwaite starts, his pale face all puffed up and red with anger.
“My uncle is dead.” Dick says, sitting back in the chair, and resting his hands on both arms. “The price for being a traitor is death.”
“Wait- ” Chambers cries out, getting off his knees and desperately moving toward Dick. Whatever else he’s about to say is cut off by Jason’s hand sticking out from the front of his chest.
“My Master gave his order.” Jason says with a glee that Dick finds disturbing. “Take your death with dignity, dog.”
Michaelthwaite screams, and for his reaction, receives Chambers’ now dead body being thrown at him, forcing him into the wall. Jason follows after it, and within seconds another scream is cut off, and both bodies vanish back into the shadowy recesses Jason seems to control with ease. The entire scene is surreal. Dick feels like it isn’t actually happening, except for the splatter of blood over his desk.
This is the moment that Wilkinson chooses to attack. He lunges over Dick’s desk, and Dick barely has enough time to look away from what Jason’s doing to see the bloodless face coming at him when a loud bang makes Wilkinson drop down on the desk, unmoving. Dick looks away from the body bleeding on the green baise top of his desk. From the corner of his eye he can see the blood moving on its own towards Jason, leaving the desk clean.
“My apologies, Sir Hellsing.” Pennyworth says stiffly, holstering his gun. “I shall take whatever punishment you see fit.”
“Alfre... Pennyworth.” Dick’s stilted speech stops for a moment. “You killed him. Why?” Behind Pennyworth, Jason grins on, a manic fixed look on his face. He’s thoroughly enjoying this, Dick can tell.
“My only concern for you taking over Hellsing was your age.” Pennyworth says, his face as kind as it’s ever been to Dick. Sadness crosses his features briefly. “You’re so young to bear this burden. I wanted to spare you. However, you’ve more than proved capable.”
“My Master has a spine of steel.” Jason says, turning his gaze back to Dick with something like affection and respect. Dick wonders if vampires can even feel affection, before he turns back to Pennyworth.
“The punishment for traitors is death.” Dick says again, his heart pounding painfully behind his ribs. He doesn’t want to have Alfred Pennyworth executed, but he’s already given the order. What can he do now?
“I have executed Wilkinson as per your orders, Sir Hellsing.” Pennyworth nods. “If you wish your monster to kill me I shall go to my death with as much dignity as I am allowed to muster.”
“Well now, here’s one who might not be entirely worthless.” Jason says, the manic fixed look disappearing from his face in the blink of an eye, to be replaced with a placid, barely there, smile. Even his eyes seem calmer. The all black of his straightjacket is somehow shinier that Dick thought it was, and he seems, taller, healthier, despite how pale he is, now than he did before. It must be an effect of feeding on human blood, Dick supposes.
“I shall take that as the compliment it is, Alucard.” Pennyworth says with a nod.
Jason grins widely. “It’s Jason now. Master gave me a new name.” Pleasure radiates off Jason like a dog who’s rolling about in the grass. Dick wouldn’t have thought a new name would make him react like that, but then again, Dick met him less than an hour ago.
“Jason. It suits you.” Pennyworth actually smiles at him, and then nods in the most military manner. “It was an honour to serve with you, sir.”
“You too, Alfred.” Jason nods back, stalking over slowly and raising his arm to plunge it through his chest.
“Wait. Stop!” Dick finds himself saying, and the both turn to look at Dick, waiting patiently.
“Master?” Jason tilts his head at Dick, studying him intently. Dick feels seen and tries his best not to squirm. “As you wish, Master.” Jason lets his arm drop and steps back.
“I don’t understand.” Pennyworth frowns, turning to Dick and paying attention only to him.
“I need loyal men, Pennyworth.” Dick says, taking a deep breath. “Pledge your loyalty to me, and I’ll keep you on.”
Pennyworth’s eyebrows rise, and he flicks a glance at Jason, who nods almost imperceptibly. Pennyworth breathes in shakily, going down on one knee to the floor. “Sir Hellsing, please accept my lifelong loyalty to yourself, the Hellsing Organisation, and the protection and safety of Great Britain.”
“I accept your fealty, Alfred Pennyworth.” Dick nods, hands clenched into fists on his lap.
“Thank you, Sir Hellsing.” Alfred says smiling gently; his eyes drift over to the bandages on Dick’s arm. After a moment he nods to himself, clearly judging them satisfactory. “May I bring you some food? You look as though you’re about to keel over.”
“Yes, that’ll be acceptable, Alfred.” Dick nods, and Alfred bows, slipping out of the room. “Can I really trust that, Jason?”
“From Alfred? Absolutely, Master.” Jason says with no hint of hesitation.
“You don’t have to call me Master when we’re alone.” Dick says, suddenly realising that there’s no one alive to call him Dick anymore. “Call me... Sir.”
“No.” Jason says, strangely gentle. “With your permission, Master, I’ll call you Dick.”
“Tell me how you came to work for Hellsing.” Dick says, ignoring how hearing his name squeezes his chest tight. Jason seems to take his silence about his name for the implicit permission it is.
“Maybe a better question for you is how the Control Ark Restriction System works. But I suppose I can explain that.” Jason stands as still as death. Which Dick supposes makes sense, as he is a vampire. The Undead.
“The what?” Dick’s never heard of it.
“It allows me to access more of my power, when I need to.” Jason shrugs, the movement making the light catch on his pure white gloves, the only part of him apart from his face that isn’t black. “There are six levels. I’m currently at Level Two. May I?”
“Go ahead.” Dick says, narrowing his eyes. Jason better not attack him, or destroy anything. Dick will have him staked.
“This is Level Five.” Jason says, and between one blink of Dick’s eyes and another, Jason’s standing in front of him in a three-piece black suit, a red frockcoat with matching red fedora and sunglasses that have metal sides to them, blocking out the light. “It allows me the least amount of power.”
Dick studies Jason. His power seems lesser somehow. It’s not gone, or even disguised, but Jason seems less still. More like a living being than a statue, at least. “You had more power at Level Three?”
“Yes!” Jason grins, pleased at how quickly Dick’s grasped the concept. “Control Ark Restriction System: Release to Level Four.” The fedora disappears, and Dick realises that Jason’s hair is now short. No need for a haircut, then.
“So the lower the number, the more power?” Dick nods to himself. “So Level Zero is the most powerful?”
“Yes.” Jason looks uncomfortable for a moment, before he face turns blank. “Level Zero requires your permission to access.”
“So, your clothes are linked to the release states?” Dick says, and Jason nods. Dick gets the distinct impression that if he wasn’t a vampire, Jason would be vibrating with excitement right now, like a dog energetically wagging its tail.
“Why don’t we play chess, Dick? I missed playing the game while I was sleeping in my cell.” Jason doesn’t move a muscle, but the nearby table with the chess set on it and two high backed chairs move themselves into the middle of the room. Jason sits down and gives Dick another smirk. So, apparently the vampire has telekinesis. Good to know.
Dick takes the seat opposite Jason and rests one hand on the table. Jason seems genuinely thrilled that Dick’s taken him up on the offer to play chess. Dick was expecting some smugness, or maybe even some mocking, but Jason looks honestly pleased. He’s treating Dick like an equal, or maybe even a superior. It’s a little heady, having this powerful monster serving him.
“I’ll play white.” Dick says, and Jason spins the board around so the white pieces are in front of Dick. “Thank you.” Dick moves his first pawn forward two spaces. While Jason moves his pawn, Dick takes the opportunity to study him. The vampire isn’t smiling for once, and Dick notes that his face is actually quite handsome when it’s not being pulled into a rictus grin.
Jason seems to have many different smirks, leers and grins, all different degrees of mocking or amused, but right now there’s a barely there smile that seems for once to be real. And it’s a smile that looks very private. Dick gets the feeling he won’t see it around other people much.
“Your father taught you to play chess well.” Jason says, as he takes one of Dick’s pieces.
“You’re saying that because you’ve taken one of my Rooks.” Dick mutters, turning his attention to the game. “So, how exactly does this work? You being my servant.”
“I will never lie to you. I will serve you faithfully and loyally.” Jason says, looking up to stare into Dick’s eyes, even as he takes one of Dick’s bishop and knights in one fell swoop. “I will never betray you.”
“You swore an oath to serve Hellsing. Why?” Dick turns his attention to the chess board, taking half of Jason’s pawns easily.
“Yes, I’m bound to the Hellsing family.” Jason agrees, almost too easily. He begins a complicated set of moves with his knight that decimates Dick’s pieces, leaving him with only a few left. “But I swore to serve you, and only you, until you die.”
Dick realises that Jason will push the boundaries of Dick’s control every chance he gets. He’s been playing mind games with him since they met, offering to make him a vampire, hitting on him, watching and assessing his every move. It doesn’t seem like Jason will ever disobey him, but Dick’s sure that Jason will show off how dangerous he is to other people; forcing Dick to prove his control over Jason. That’s acceptable, Dick thinks. It might even work to Dick’s advantage a lot of the time. But it does mean that Dick will have to pay close attention to him. That is, if Dick doesn’t lock him back up in his cell, of course.
It doesn’t escape Dick’s attention that Jason’s dodged the question of how he came to serve Hellsing for the second time in a row. Dick won’t let him do that a third time. “And that’s different?”
“Of course.” Jason smirks, meeting Dick’s eyes. He takes Dick’s second Rook, and Dick can’t help but notice how long and strong Jason’s fingers are. How easily they plunged through Chamber’s ribcage. It leaves Dick with a squirmy feeling in his stomach over how dangerous the vampire is. It’s not fear, and it’s not disgust, as much as it should be. Dick can’t pin down exactly what it is he’s feeling, but it leaves his blood heating up in his veins.
The fact that Jason, with all this power and strength is more than willingly submitting and pledging himself to serve Dick is so damn heady. Dick realises with a start that he likes having that control over Jason. Dick’s so distracted that he’s losing, having only his king and queen left. He doesn’t even know what moves they’ve both made to get to this point in the game, but there’s no denying that he’s lost all but his two most important pieces.
“Why me?” Dick says, willing his heart to slow down. There’s no way Jason can’t hear it. But Dick needs to know what it is about him that means he can keep this monster on a leash.
“You’ve got more steel, will, and courage in your little finger than most adult men. When you fully grow into yourself, you’ll be magnificent.” Jason grins widely, manic and rictus, and terrifying. Strangely enough, it makes Dick relax and calm down a little. Jason wants to serve someone strong and wilful. Jason’s powerful. Dick needs that power if he’s going to survive as the head of Hellsing as a twelve year old.
“What do you get out of this?” Dick watches as Jason slides one long, gloved finger over his queen. Dick’s stomach squirms again, and he has to resist the urge to bite his lip. “You’ll have to hunt your own kind?”
“What better prey?” Jason says, that manic grin widening on his face even more. “Vampires are disgusting.”
Dick narrows his eyes at Jason. He’s a vampire who thinks vampires are disgusting? That’s a conversation that Dick really wants to get into later. However, he’s not letting his earlier question go. “Why do you serve Hellsing?”
“I do enjoy this-” Jason says, sitting back and smirking, but Dick interrupts his next attempt at deflection.
“Jason.” Dick says with a hint of warning.
Jason stops, the smirk falling from his face as he bends his head forward, shadows hiding his already sunglasses-obscured eyes further. “I began serving your family in 1893...”
***
1893:
He lays there unmoving after they stab him. Sightless eyes stare up at the lightening morning sky. The triumphant party are taking Mina back to England and away from him. He’s still lying there when Professor Van Helsing makes his way over. He wants to die, but the knife wound has yet to do its job.
“For all flesh is as grass, and all the glory of man as the flower of grass. The grass withereth, and the flower thereof falleth away. But my words will endure forever.” The professor holds a railroad spike in his hand, and slams it into his chest, forcing his body to jolt and cough up blood.
With blood dripping from his nose and mouth, he asks “Am I... Defeated?”
“That’s right, you’ve been defeated. This is no nightmare from which you’ll soon awaken. Gone is your castle and principality. Your servants are dead to the last. The host’s mark, too, leaves her precious flesh. She shall never be yours.” Van Helsing says harshly, yanking the stake out. A gush of blood follows it, and he’s too weak to move. Van Helsing grabs his lapels, hauling him from the ground, to hang there, limp and defeated. “Count... You have nothing! You pathetic No-Life King... You’ve nothing. Nothing.”
“End it.” He says, not because he expects mercy, he knows there’s none left for him; but that the determined professor doesn’t seem the type to leave things unfinished.
“You might still have a use...” Van Helsing says, frowning down at him. “With the right circumstances, ja, you might be very useful.”
“Circumstances?” He murmurs, his eyes closing to darkness before he can hear a reply.
~*~
When he next wakes, he’s bound by magic. He can feel it all around the box he’s trapped in. He gloves on his hands tingling as he presses on the lid. He’s lying flat... But entirely encased. A coffin, then. He shifts his feet, feeling loose earth around his ankles. So, the professor is transporting him. The question is to where and why.
He realises he has no care for the answers. He’s lost her. He’s lost Mina. His last chance... Gone. Fate truly is cruel to offer hope after centuries, only to snatch it away at the very last second. He’s the No-Life King of a dead and gone kingdom.
He’s lost, just like before. But this time there’s no escape from the executioner’s blade. It seems the Dutch are more prepared than the Ottomans ever were. But the motion under the box is fast... much faster than ship or by horse-led carriage. So, the professor is taking him somewhere by train. He sighs, twisting as much as the coffin allows, which is not much. The magic spelling it closed is near perfect. There’s no weak spots that he can exploit to slip out and feed.
He resigns himself to whatever the professor has planned for him.
~*~
He’s lost track of how many spells the Van Helsings have placed on him. In the beginning he could recognise each and every one, but as time has gone on and the layers of magical bindings and restrictions continue; he fell asleep; or the closest thing to it; meaning he missed some being laid.
He viciously misses Mina.
He forgets her.
He remembers again, when a new experiment begins and the blood flows to him.
He’s outside of his coffin, staring down at the lid and the legend that it bears.
The Bird of Hermes is my name
Eating my wings to make me tame.
The gloves on his hands respond to the chanting of the professor, his son, and their acolytes. He doesn’t recognise any but those two, but he understands the words they chant even as his body twists and transforms over and over, leaving only his hands in the gloves, adorned with Hell’s Gate Arrested. Gott Mit Uns. And Shine Heaven Now.
He ‘sleeps’.
He dreams of Mina, who he left his home and travelled to England for.
He wakes and finds himself changed.
Another spell is placed on him. He finds yet more changes and so much more power than he ever thought he could have.
He wakes to a grinning Professor Van Helsing, and that seven years have passed. The century has turned. The year is 1900AD and the professor has a use for him.
“We have arranged for a set of limitations onto your ungodly power.” The professor tells him, smiling almost manically. He’s still wearing the same red frockcoat he had on when he lost. “The restrictions will be loosed when appropriate. And when we are not using you? This cell will be your home. You cannot escape it. Your coffin with your homeland dirt is kept here.”
“You’ve made me more powerful. That seems like a mistake.” He says, flexing his arms as much as he can in the straightjacket they’ve left him in.
“You might think so.” Van Helsing smirks at him. The implication there is that this professor thinks he’s more intelligent and better able to strategise than a 400 year old warlord. Well, he’ll simply have to prove him wrong.
“I’m sure I do.” He says, snarling.
The professor holds up a glass bottle full of a thick dark liquid. It could, at first glance pass for wine, but even if he couldn’t smell it, he’d know it was blood. The professor lets go of the bottle, and he’s helpless to watch as it smashes on the hard, cold stone floor. It begins to spread, and he’s leaning down toward it before he can even think.
“Stop.” The professor says, entirely calmly. He stops moving, his muscles locking up even as he screams at them to move. “Ja, that is a satisfactory reaction.”
He snarls wordlessly at Van Helsing.
“You can lick it up.” Van Helsing says, everything about his pose saying that he’s uninterested in watching him feed. “The spell is certainly working. I will tell you the words for allowing you more power once you are done here.”
He takes one long lick at the floor. It’s not hot or living blood, and his interest in it is lost. He straightens up to stand tall, realising that he towers over the human now. “I’m quite finished.”
“Gut, gut, ja.” Van Helsing mutters, looking at his watch instead. “I will now teach you the words that will make you useful to us.”
“Us?” he asks. Who else could the professor be working with?
“We are calling it the Control Ark Restriction System. My son named it.” Van Helsing says with a smirk. “You are to recite these words to increase your powers: Releasing Control Ark Restriction System to Level Four.”
Something compels him to speak. “Releasing Control Ark Restriction System to Level Four.” He looks down at himself, and notices that his clothing has changed. From the black straight jacket, he’s now in a black suit and a red frockcoat, almost identical to Van Helsing’s.
“Aha! It works. The change from Level Five to Four is successful!” The professor says, sounding pleased. “Her Majesty will be pleased.”
“How many levels are there?” He asked, not expecting a response. But he tucks away the information that Queen Victoria is the financial support here. He could do a lot worse than to be the servant of the great Empress and Queen of the British Empire.
“Six in total.” Van Helsing answers, surprising him. “You will have the liberty of choosing which level you will need to destroy our enemies yourself, up to Level One.”
“And Five is the lowest.” He says to himself.
“For Level One, you must add: Approval of Situation A recognised. Commencing the Cromwell Invocation. Ability restrictions lifted for limited use until the enemy has been rendered silent.” Van Helsing says, with another smirk. “Do not recite the words now. I apologise for the language, my son has no poetry in his soul.”
“And Level Zero?” he asks, resigned to servitude.
“The legend on your coffin must be said, and your master’s permission granted.” Van Helsing smirks again.
1944
The vampire watches on with a mocking smile as the new head of Hellsing stands at Old Professor Van Helsing’s desk; listening to the orders given over the telephone, and holding back a sigh. He’s pretty sure that Bruce Wayne had no idea what he was getting into when he married the Professor’s granddaughter, or that he could be called back from the frontlines to take over an organisation dedicated to battling the supernatural.
At least Wayne had taken it well when he found out that the Nazis were making facsimile vampires, messing about with the kind of deep complicated magicks that could summon forth demons and unknowable beings. The fervour that he displays throwing himself into eradicating all the Nazi efforts is perhaps the most surprising part. Or not, considering he married a Hellsing.
At least King George approves of him. Old Georgie-boy might be a naval man, but the vampire approves of him anyway. He can’t always get his words out, but he understands what it is to rule, and during a war at that. The vampire is fond of him, not that he’ll admit it to anyone.
Wayne hangs up without a word, finally sighing. “Pennyworth, Dracula. You’ll be going to Warsaw, Poland. We’ve finally identified the site of the Wehrwolves’ Vampire production plant. You are to destroy every last trace of that facility and any of the ‘science’.” Wayne says, a sneer appearing on his face at the word science. “You head out tonight.”
“Yes, sir!” Pennyworth says, straightening up as much as he can. At fourteen years old, it’s not that much.
“Yes, master.” The vampire says, a manic grin on his face. There’s little he hates more than the ‘Instant’ vampires the Nazis have been sending out. They’re nothing but excrement.
~*~
His coffin lands with a heavy thud, opening up to the sight of young Alfred Pennyworth fighting off a squad of soldiers. He takes them out with a few flicks of his fingers and his lengths of razor sharp garrotte wires. The vampire sucks up the blood that is all around, his eyes falling on the fellow monster in the room. He’s not a vampire, and he’s certainly not an ‘Instant’. He’s something the vampire thought didn’t exist anymore. A real werewolf. Pennyworth is having a lot of trouble fighting him off, to the point that the werewolf has Pennyworth on his back, and is choking him.
The vampire thinks he should probably get involved now. So he lifts his tommy gun, sending cartridge after cartridge of bullets into the werewolf. It doesn’t kill him, not that the vampire thought it would. It does however distract him for long enough that Pennyworth gets free and clear.
The werewolf turns his attention to the vampire, punching him hard enough to send him flying into the wall. If it were anyone else the vampire suspects that they’d be very dead. As it is, the vampire’s not even winded. He scrambles out of the huge crater left in the wall from the impact and smirks widely. The following fight is something that the vampire can actually call fun. The werewolf, a captain by the ranking on his uniform, is an opponent worth actually fighting. Punches connect and send each other flying, kicks do the same. The vampire actually gets to unleash his power levels to Two to continue.
It’s the best night he’s had in absolute decades.
And the longer he keeps the Captain busy, the more time Pennyworth has to sabotage the building by setting ‘a fuckton of bombs’ and kill any soldiers and scientists he comes across.
The building is rocked by explosion after explosion, and the Captain’s ears prick up. The vampire doesn’t let him stop fighting though, not even when the building is crumbling around them and on fire.
Pennyworth runs in to the ruined room, stopping dead in his tracks, his young eyes wide in horror at seeing them fight. The Captain turns and runs, and it’s only Pennyworth’s quietly stated “Sir Wayne ordered us to return alive” that stops the vampire from going after him.
“The experiments?” the vampire asks, snarling in frustration. He wants to keep fighting the werewolf, but orders are absolute and must be followed.
“All burning.” Pennyworth says, keeping very still. The vampire can hear his heart beat rabbit fast in his chest. “All the paperwork I could find too. I killed as many scientists as I could, but I think some got away. I saw at least two cars driving away. Too far for my wires to reach, or I’d have tried stopping them.”
“These Nazis are slippery bastards.” The vampire says, and Pennyworth’s heart slows down, just a little. “But they haven’t all left. We’ve time to kill more.”
“After you, Count Dracula.” Pennyworth says, looking eager. “Or should that be my lord? Titles are confusing.”
“I’m Hellsing’s pet monster, boy.” The vampire shrugs. He hasn’t felt like Count Dracula since Professor Van Helsing staked him over fifty years ago. He’s not even sure who he is now. “Call me whatever you want.”
“Oh.” Pennyworth wraps his wires around his fists, ready for the second round. “In that case, after you... Sir Monster.”
The vampire sweeps past him, out into the corridor which seems stable enough. Pennyworth is right on his heels. They make it to the ground floor where the last of the scientists are screaming about their data and experiments. Pennyworth makes short work of them, all except one who gets close enough that Pennyworth actually has to punch him before he uses his garrotte wires to end the man. The vampire notes with approval that Pennyworth doesn’t seem too put out by that.
But then he hears the rumble of the movement of many. If it wasn’t for the lack of heartbeats or living blood, the vampire would say it was an entire squadron.
“Pennyworth.” The vampire calls out. “Get behind me.”
“I can take out ‘Instants’, Sir Monster.” Pennyworth frowns, whipping his wires around.
“I’m aware. But what’s coming isn’t ‘Instants’.” The vampire says, readying his tommy gun once more. “It’s Ghouls.”
“Ghouls?” Pennyworth sighs, moving slowly behind the vampire, making sure to stand clear of the way his red frockcoat is snapping in the wind. “This was not a two-man job. Even if you are worth twenty men, sir.”
“Aren’t you having fun, boy?” the vampire laughs, holding his gun out ready for the squadron of Ghouls to come around the corner of the building.
“Sending monsters to do their fighting for them. So much for a ‘noble’ war.” Pennyworth huffs, clearly not impressed with their enemies. “Does fun even come into it?”
“Of course!” the vampire says as the Ghouls round the corner, and he takes them all out with wave after wave of bullets to the head. “What’s the point of fighting if it’s not a little fun?”
“Saving people? Defending them and their homes.” Pennyworth says with the surety of the young. “Stopping... Monsters.”
“I’ll tell you a secret about stopping monsters, my young friend.” The vampire says when all the Ghouls are finally taken out. “Only a human can do it. Never forget that.”
“I won’t. Sir.” Pennyworth says, exhaling slowly, looking at the carnage around them. “I hope we got enough of them to make this count.”
“There’ll always be more.” The vampire says, reflecting on all his years. “More enemies, another war. More death than you can shake a stick at, or so you humans say these days.”
“Well, that’s deeply depressing.” Pennyworth frowns. “And possibly fixed by a nice cup of tea.”
1975, and onwards:
The vampire isn’t sure what to make of John Grayson. He seems competent, and Sir Wayne clearly approves of him enough to let him marry his daughter. He’s got some drive, the vampire supposes. Nothing like the fervour of Sir Wayne, or the Van Helsings, of course, but enough that he’ll do for ‘peacetime’. The vampire’s not all that fond of the name that Sir Grayson has labelled him with, Alucard is a bit on the nose, really. The vampire supposes that it’s a step up from ‘hey you’ or ‘vampire’. Barely.
Not that anyone will be calling him that for a while. ‘Alucard’ is going to be settling in for a long sleep. He looks around his cell, bare of anything beyond sigils both painted onto and carved into the walls surrounding him. The door to the cell swung shut heavily, with a loud clang about an hour ago. ‘Alucard’ knows it won’t be opened unless there’s an absolute emergency.
It’s his punishment for killing an entire squadron of Hellsing soldiers.
Sir Grayson labelled him too dangerous to use, which really is laughable. He’s no more powerful or dangerous than he was in the 1940’s or even earlier. But here he is, bound up in magic and leather, to be left to starve to the point of desiccation. Sir Grayson probably thinks it’ll be painful for him, but ‘Alucard’ moved beyond pain being something to be avoided, and into it being a reminder he still exists centuries ago.
‘Alucard’ doesn’t care. It was worth it.
Those ‘loyal Hellsing soldiers’ weren’t even fit to be called dogs. They weren’t even fit to be dogshit, with what they were planning. ‘Alucard’ could have easily stepped aside and let them do as they pleased. It’s not as if ‘Alucard’ isn’t a monster who did terrible things because he wanted to, or because he felt that the end justified the means. He is and he did, so many times over that he can’t even remember them all. He left battlefields drenched in blood and sought war at every opportunity. He could even go so far as to say that he enjoyed it, fairly often.
But what the soldiers had been planning wasn’t war. It wasn’t against the enemies of Hellsing and Great Britain. ‘Alucard’ did those pieces of shit a favour. Because now they’ll be remembered as good men who died bravely trying to stop a monster. Not as monsters themselves. It’s more than they deserve, but ‘Alucard’ won’t let them taint the reputation of the Organisation he serves. He’s worked too hard and long to let fools who couldn’t see beyond the ends of their noses bring down Hellsing.
He doesn’t even care that he won’t get a thank you; or exoneration from his master. A rest from the world will do it their place.
~*~
The years pass by both slowly and in the blink of an eye. Down in the darkness of his cell, ‘Alucard’ has nothing to do but think and ponder what he wants in the years ahead.
A good, strong master, for sure. Someone willing to go as far as necessary when the situation needs it. Someone who won’t quake in fright when ‘Alucard’ looks them in the eyes.
A chance to seek the fight that might finally end his long, unending years without hope or love with true death.
He can feel himself changing, the bonds and layers of spells on him altering his personality oh-so-subtly. It feels like he’s simply waiting for his fate.
~*~
‘Alucard’ hears the boy approach, even though he barely has the strength to move. The boy enters, his heart racing, and then the bullet grazes his upper arm, knocking him from his feet into the dark cell. The blood splatters onto the ground. The man’s screaming, but ‘Alucard’ doesn’t care. He can smell the fury wafting from the boy.
“You don’t want to die now?” ‘Alucard’ says to the boy. It takes all the energy he has, but he leans over, right over until his face is by the floor and he starts lapping at the blood splatter. Moving suddenly, he attacks one of Richard’s flunkies, ripping his head off, lifting it up above his mouth to drink all the blood that seeps out.
“A vampire?” The boy whispers in shock. “This is the result “achieved”? What was my family studying?” Richard’s other flunky goes down just as easily, his headless corpse landing on the ground with a soft thud.
‘Alucard’ rips Richard’s arm off, blood flying everywhere, and Richard falls to the floor, screaming and moaning, slipping in the blood surrounding him. The boy grabs Richard’s gun, aiming it straight at ‘Alucard’. “You’re the one that awakened me?” he smirks down at the boy, he feels better than he has in decades, revitalised.
“Don’t come any closer, monster!” The boy yells, his hands steady on the gun.
“Your blood made the finest wake-up drink after twenty years of sleeping.” He smirks. The boy shoots him three times, each bullet hitting, but he heals instantly. He moves swiftly, pushing the boy up against the wall of the cell, and smirking into his face. “If you obey me, all these powers become yours.” He offers, truly meaning to change the boy into a true vampire if he chooses it.
“You devil.” The boy snaps, nearly shaking with righteous fury. “I’m Richard Wayne Grayson Hellsing, the head of the Hellsing Organisation! I’ll never let a vampire tell me what to do!”
“It’s no use using a gun on me.” He says, deciding to ignore the boy’s outburst. He tries to be reasonable. “Kid, give up and listen to me.”
“Shut the hell up! I won’t give up. I’ll never give up, even if I die.” Richard the younger yells, standing up a little straighter. “That’s my pride as the head of Hellsing!”
“Wonderful! It’s really wonderful!” He leers, pushing his face closer to Richard’s, feeling so hungry for blood... And more. “There’s a rage swelling between my legs.”
The boy’s face reads nothing but shock, and with one shaking hand, he lets go of the gun to slap the vampire’s face as hard as he can. ‘Alucard’ is even more impressed by this. What a fighter this one is! “I’m twelve!”
“Ah, so you are...” He vampire says, blinking. The fog of joy has lifted a little and he can see just how young the boy really is. “No wonder, you’re the son of that family.” In less than a heartbeat he’s kneeling down so far that he’s practically sitting on the floor “Please forgive all my impoliteness, Sir Hellsing. Give me an order, my master.”
“Don’t be ridiculous! A brat and a monster?” Richard snarls, pushing himself up from the floor awkwardly and slowly with only one arm. He’s so angry he’s frothing at the mouth, and gesturing wildly with his remaining arm. “Hellsing is mine!”
“Your blood really stinks, Richard.” ‘Alucard’ says, full of disdain and disgust for Richard the elder. He looks at him over his shoulder before turning back to Richard the younger, dismissing him entirely. “You’re not qualified to be the master of this place.”
Richard shoots at the boy, but his arm takes the bullet. The boy rests the gun on the vampire’s arm, taking aim and squeezing the trigger, sending three bullets into his Uncle Richard’s head. ‘Alucard’ grins on, deeply approving of his new master. He’s finally found the one he’s been waiting for.
***
Dick pushes away from the table, he hadn’t moved any of his pieces once during Jason’s story, and neither had Jason. He stands up, feeling out of sorts, almost overwhelmed by everything he’s been told, even though on the scale of what he’s lived through in the last week, it’s not surprising or unexpected.
Trying to gather his thoughts, Dick heads over to stare out of the window, looking out at the grounds of the manor. It’s dark so all that’s really visible beyond the gravel by the house is receding lawns melding into the tree line. The near-endless feeling rolling acres of land beyond are completely hidden by the gloom of night.
Dick doesn’t move as Jason follows him over and stands right behind him, looming with his greater height. “You trust me already.” Jason says, and there’s wonder as well as the hint of amusement.
“Do I?” Dick says, continuing to stare out. Dick supposes Jason’s not exactly wrong.
“Yes, my Master.” Jason says, bending down to speak softly into Dick’s ear. “I’m a vampire, and you turned your back to me. Anyone else would be feeling vulnerable right now.”
“You’re playing with me.” Dick says, not turning around. He’s not going to let Jason rattle him into moving. He’s still playing mind games with Dick, after all; no matter how much he says he respects him. He’s pushing at those boundaries that they haven’t even set up yet. Jason wants a strong, proud master. Dick’s going to show him that he’s underestimating him already.
“The game isn’t over yet.” Jason says, still into Dick’s ear. “You have two pieces left. You can still win. If you’re clever, brave, refuse to give up, and are willing to risk it all. Master.”
“I don’t mean the chess match.” Dick says, not moving. “You’ve been playing with me since you first spoke to me.”
“I’ve been told it’s only polite to thank someone for a delicious drink.” Jason says, and Dick can hear the grin.
“You asked me if I didn’t want to die now.” Dick says, frowning at the window pane in front of him. He feels the rush of cool air as Jason steps back, and Dick decides that turning around now isn’t a loss. “Didn’t you?”
“Yes, I did. Master.” Jason kneels down, one knee right on the floor, lowering himself until he’s sitting on his heel. He takes Dick’s hand gently, slowly... It’s not hesitant, but he’s giving Dick all the time he could possibly need to pull his hand away if he wants to. Dick lets Jason lift his hand up to his mouth, Jason’s gloved hand is cold under his, and there’s no breath, cool or otherwise, to be felt on the back of his hand. Jason brings Dick’s hand closer to his mouth, barely brushing his lips over his knuckles in a kiss, full of reverence and worship. “And you chose to answer exactly how I wished you to.”
“Because I wanted to live?” Dick lifts his now free hand from where it rests in Jason’s and moves it up to Jason’s face, touching with only his fingertips the area where he’d used all his strength to slap him. There’s not so much as even the hint of a mark, Jason’s skin is smooth, clear, and oh-so pale. It’s also noticeably cooler than his gloved hands.
“Yes! The will of humans to continue fighting to live against all the odds is what makes you so magnificent!” Jason shudders slightly. “Those who refuse to give up are worthy of respect.”
Dick rests his hand on Jason’s face, feeling that squirming feeling return, heating his blood as it pumps around his body. The fact a 560 year old monster of immense power is willingly kneeling at his feet, gazing up at him with respect and devotion is just as heady as it was before. Maybe even more so. It’s ...Intimate in a way Dick’s never even thought he might want.
“And I refused.” Dick nods, that tracks, Jason had had a distinct change of manner once Dick had told him he wouldn’t give up. Jason leans into the touch, looking up at him adoringly. Dick wants to be reminded of a dog, because that unblinking gaze is fixed and pure, but there’s a heat beginning to bloom in Jason’s eyes that’s anything but pure. It makes his blood sing, that respect mixed with hunger (not that Dick’s sure what Jason’s hungry for. Is it blood? Is it something else... Something sexual that Dick’s too young for?)
“Master... You truly are your family’s child. You have their strength and will.” Jason continues to stare up at Dick, and Dick feels so warm. It’s like the flames of hell are licking up the sides of the room, and he wouldn’t care, because Jason is there to protect him. Because Jason is his. Jason’s his, however Dick wants him. His servant. His monster. His.
Dick looks down on that intense amount of emotion in Jason’s eyes, it’s so much. Almost too much. It’s like the strength and abilities that Jason has, almost too much. It’s so much to control it all. But Jason’s offering it, and himself, up to Dick with no hesitation. To be Dick’s.
Dick’s father had always impressed on him how important it was to look after what belonged to him. Jason is no different. If he’s Dick’s now, then Dick has to look after him well. To return that intense devotion with trust and... Friendship? No, that doesn’t feel quite right. Affection, maybe? If Jason is Dick’s pet monster on a leash, then he should give him the affection that those eyes seem to be crying out for.
But how? Dick’s only twelve. He’s got no idea how to handle this. He wonders what his mother would have done, but she died before he was really old enough to remember her. And his father... It hurts to think about him. But his father would always kiss him on the forehead at night. So Dick leans down slowly, although honestly, he doesn’t really have that far down to go. He presses dry, nervous lips to the cool skin of Jason’s forehead. He doesn’t linger, being as gentle as possible.
When Dick pulls back, he can see Jason’s eyes are beginning to well up with tears of blood. Jason stares up at him, eyes wide in surprise. He closes his eyes, as if the gentle benediction of Dick’s kiss had been painful. When Jason opens his eyes, the tears are gone, but something warm and tender is in that gaze that hadn’t been there before.
It feels like something important and wordlessly intense has passed between them.
“Count...” Dick says quietly, but full of meaning.
“Master.” Jason returns; that look in his eyes is one of quiet adoration and devotion, and Dick could almost fall into that gaze.
A knock on the door brings Dick out of the moment. In a flash, Jason is over by the table, physically carrying it back to where it was before, tucked into the corner of the room. “Come in.” Dick says, swallowing down a strange sense of disappointment at being interrupted.
The door opens and a large tray enters, with Alfred not even a second behind it. He carries the tray right over to Dick’s father’s desk... His desk, now. Alfred carries the tray over to Dick’s desk, setting it down. It’s covered with a plate of various sandwiches, small cakes and biscuits, and a large pot of tea. “I thought sandwiches would be the easiest thing to eat right now, Sir. I believe I have all your favourites.”
“Yes. Thank you, Alfred. That’ll be fine.” Dick says, feeling suddenly ravenous as he stares at the tray. Jason’s moved the high backed chairs into place while Dick’s been staring at the food.
“Please don’t wait on me to begin, Sir.” Alfred says, dipping his head forward. “I’m sure you’re quite hungry after your ordeal.”
Dick says nothing, going to sit at his desk and shoving his face full of a cheddar cheese and cucumber sandwich. He swallows it down, and forces himself not to make a face at the cucumber. He’s never liked it. He’ll tell Alfred not to use cucumber from now on tomorrow.
He roughly swallows, looking up to see a glint of amusement on Jason’s face. He stands silent and still against the wall of the room, seemingly content to stand guard; which reminds Dick of something he’d meant to ask much earlier. “Alfred, where is Timothy? Why wasn’t he here to help?”
“He should return by tomorrow morning, Sir Richard.” Alfred says, without missing a beat. “He telephoned yesterday morning. Apparently his mission ran overlong.”
“I see.” Dick says, picking up another sandwich, and trying not to frown. “Let me know when he returns.”
“Of course, Sir.” Alfred says with a sharp military nod. “Will that be all, Sir?”
Dick chews, and swallows his bite of sandwich. “For now. Thank you, Alfred.”
Alfred leaves quietly, shutting the door behind him with a click. Jason moves from his position on the wall to the chair the other side of Dick’s desk. He sits down and there’s a long pause when all that can be heard is Dick chewing.
Eventually Jason speaks. “It’s interesting that this attack waited to happen until Timothy was away.”
“What do you mean?” Dick frowns. It’s horrible that Timothy wasn’t here. Dick could have used his support.
“It’s interesting that your enemies knew exactly when and where your greatest supporter was when they launched this assault.” Jason shrugs. “It’s something to think about. Your enemies know Hellsing well.”
“Comforting, Jason. Thank you.” Dick sighs. “I have an order for you.”
Jason sits up straight in his chair, looking almost giddy. “As you command, my Master.”
Dick breathes deeply, and forces his back ramrod straight, before he speaks. “Protect me from all harm.”