~*Aculares Infernum*~

[Psi Yamaneko]

((Heeeeeeeey, remember me? ^.^ Well I'm back! With another fanfic! Huzzah! It's a crossover. Will I ever finish it? Er. . .prolly not but enjoy anyway, eh?))

Disclaimer: “Hellsing” and related characters are (c) Kouta Hirano . . .except for the concepts that ACTUALLY belong to Bram Stoker. Pocket Monsters is (c) Nintendo/Gamefreak. The song "Currents" is (c) Konami Computer Entertainment Japan. As far as the names are concerned, herein “Seras” will be called “Ceres” for no other reason than that it looks more British. Integra’s last name will be spelled “Helsing” to keep in agreement with the Stoker novel. Thank you and enjoy!

This story is rated “R” for violence, innuendo, language and Jan Valentine.


Prologue~Taming of the Monster. . .

The white Myutsuu lay upon his back, his long tail thrashing about. This was the creature that had been ravaging Eastern Europe? The Lord of the Castle in the Carpathian Mountains?
The Persian, Abraham Van Helsing, adjusted his glasses and eyed the stake that was piercing the creature’s heart. The Myutsuu lay within a coffin that had been traveling through the area in the carriage of a Grypsy train. Those unlucky gypsies now lay strewn about the graveyard, their heads severed from their bodies. The Raticate, Quincey, lay dead amongst them.
In the corner, the one who had driven the stake home, the young Pikachu Jonathan Harker, mopped sweat from his brow. He looked forlornly around him at the gothic tombstones and heavy mist. Helsing observed him silently until he heard a voice choke out to him.
“Is this. . .is this my defeat?”
The cat-like man turned back to the coffin with the dying Vampire inside. “Indeed,” he said, flicking one ear. “This is the end of your Dance. You will not awaken again.”
The monster bared its fangs. Abraham pressed on.
“Your castle, your kingdom and all that you stood for has met its end. All of your followers have dispersed. . .Mina has been blessed by a Sacred Wafer and your power over her is gone. She will not become like you.”
At the mention of his sister, Jonathan pulled himself to his boots and wandered off to find her, leaving Helsing alone with the dying creature. Once the Sun rose its head and peered across the horizon, caressing the Vampire with its golden fingers, this whole mess would be over.
The Persian leaned over the coffin and grabbed the Myutsuu’s collar in his claws. He jerked the limp bundle upwards so that their noses were touching. The Vampire’s long, raven hair blew about in the wind.
“You have don’t have anything anymore, don’t you understand? You are a pretty pathetic Lord when you have nothing.”
The once mighty Psychic just bore his fangs and choked something. Helsing’s ear flicked.
“What?”
“S. . .Screw you. . .,” moaned the creature and he slumped forward into the Persian’s arms. Helsing blinked at the awkward state this put him in. Then he closed his eyes.
“You don’t want to perish now?” he asked after a long moment. “Do you want to come with me? Back to London?. . .You remember London.”
The only response from the creature was ragged breathing, which, for the Vampire, seemed to be a force of habit. He did not have to breathe anymore.
“I won’t force you. . .The choice is yours.”
The white Myutsuu curled his claws into Helsing’s jacket and blew out a sigh.
“Answer me,” said the Persian. “Just know that you will not be permitted to treat mortals like your playthings any longer. . .”
The Vampire lifted his alabaster face and said, “I. . .I shall lend my powers to the service of yourself, of the Light, and of the Land. . .so long as it be needed. . .”

[Psi Yamaneko]

BOOK I: CERES VICTORIA

“I was afraid to raise my eyelids, but looked out and saw perfectly under the lashes. The girl went on her knees, and bent over me, simply gloating. There was a deliberate voluptuousness which was both thrilling and repulsive, and as she arched her neck, she actually licked her lips like an animal. . . . Lower and lower went her head as the lips went below the range of my mouth and chin and seemed about to fasten on my throat. . . . I closed my eyes in a languorous ecstasy and waited-waited with beating heart.”
~Bram Stoker


Order 1: The Undead~Days You Wish You’d Stayed in Bed

“Don’t use that word, Frank. We don’t like it. Say rather that we are undead, immortal.”
~Eric Taylor. Robert Siodmak. Katherine Caldwell (Louise Allbritton), Son of Dracula, objecting to her fiance’s use of the word “vampire,” (1943).

Original story by Curtis Siodmak [sic] (1902-1988).



They called it the Hellsing Protestant Knight Organization in honor of its founder. Over the years, the leaders took to referring to it with two “L”s more for effect than anything else. The Organization was based in the old Helsing Mansion which lay between Covent Garden and Trafalgar Square in London, England. It was a dark building with soaring towers and high, stained glass windows that overlooked the surrounding cityscape in an almost ominous way. Like they were the eyes of some great beast.
The Lady of the House was Sir Integra Fairbrooks Wingates Helsing. Traditionally, the House Leaders had all been male but the early death of Integra’s father and his failure to produce a male heir led her to inherit the rather heavy burden. She was a pretty Persian, no doubt. Her piercing sapphire eyes glittered with a wisdom that defied her young age. But the woman had almost lost her touch with her feminine side. She often wore men’s clothing that was several sizes too big and she kept her platinum blonde hair down around her shoulders, she refused to fuss with it. She was always too busy.

Integra was not at the Mansion at that moment but was sitting in a meeting room at Scotland Yard’s offices. Or one of them at least. The room was drab and uninteresting, with yellowed walls that made the Persian’s head ache. The officers talking to her spoke in monotone and it was the most that the woman could do to just stay awake. They were Treeckos, juvenile Grass-types and moved with the awkwardness native to their kinds. So similar were the two reptilian men that Integra could have sworn that they were related. They were showing her something on a video screen: A Kadabra, ambling across the view of one of the surveillance cameras, blood trickling down his chin, his red eyes darting about. No longer was he mortal. No longer was he one of the Folk.
The Kadabra had been a priest, dispatched on the twelfth of June to the town of Cheddar in Somerset.
“Roughly a month after his arrival, folk in Cheddar started to vanish,” one of the Treeckos explained. “We sent in several search parties to find the missing persons but all of the parties were killed.” He focused his brown eyes on the Persian and paused for effect. She sighed and started fiddling with her ball-point pen. The Treecko continued.
“Yesterday we sent in the D-11 Squad. . .already half of them are dead. . .,” he scratched his head. “Reportedly they were slain by members of the search parties that were already killed. . .”
“The search parties had their blood drained by your priest,” said Integra matter-of-factly. “They were turned into Ghouls.”
The officers exchanged looks of incredulity then looked at the Persian as if she had grown a second head.
“!?”
“The only clear way to solve this problem, Lieutenant, are my knights.” She rose and shuffled over to the window. The sun was starting nestle down in the West, casting an orange glow into the office that illuminated the woman’s stern features.
“Night is falling. . .My Organization has arrived in Cheddar.”
The first Treecko’s leaf-like appendages flared.
“Uh. . .How many divisions did you send?”
The Persian grinned smugly and gazed over her shoulder at him.
“One person. . .”

~~~

When Ceres Victoria had been in training, nobody had told her that she would wind up pistol whipping her friends. . .who had been dead for three days.
The Delcatty with the strawberry blonde hair was running like a madwoman. Her friend Erik the Psiduck had turned into a slavering, stupid, walking mass of decaying flesh while she was in the middle of treating his wounds. Her comrades who had been waiting for her by her uncle’s truck in the backwoods of Cheddar had also turned.
Now Ceres felt rather absurd for ever joining the Force in the first place. She wanted to help folk. . .not shoot out Ghouls.
In the force, the other agents had mockingly called her “Kitten” and pointed fun at her frequent tears. Now, as she ran through the woods towards the church, being pursued by those same agents, she vowed she would not cry.
Her heart beat a tattoo in her chest as she ran, her feet pounding across the moist earth, her tail trailing behind her and her breasts bouncing up down in a fashion that was most uncomfortable and just somewhat embarrassing.
She risked a glance over her shoulder and her purple ears pricked up when she saw that the Ghouls were quickly closing the gap.
“****!”
She turned her head back towards the church and willed herself to run faster, to keep running and not stop until she was on sacred ground. The Delcatty made a sharp turn and leapt over some brambles, tumbling down a ledge and landing in another path. Her assailants continued in the direction they were going, missing her completely.
She let out a sigh of relief and settled back against a tree.
“I should have stayed in bed. . .Hm?”
Her moment of rest was interrupted when she heard some branches snap to her left. She lifted her head and groaned when she saw a middle-aged female Pidgey lumbering towards her. Her wings and feathers were tattered and her beak was hanging open to such an extent that the jaw-hinges had to have been broken.
From ten feet away, Ceres could smell the stench of death on the Pidgey.
“Not one of the Folk,” she lifted her pistol and steeled her nerves as the Pidgey drew closer still. The last forty times she had shot at these Ghouls nothing had happened. Terror had erased any reasoning in her that this time would be no different. She squeezed the trigger.
BANG
A few feathers were blown off the Ghoul’s wing tip but the undead beast did not seem to notice. Ceres blanked. She lowered her gun and turned her back to the thing as she plunged back into the woods. It screamed after her and she accelerated to escape it.
WHOOSH!
The sound of wings as it, too, picked up speed. Then, suddenly, she heard it cry like a stricken animal and all was silent. Without fully intending to, the policewoman came to halt.
All was silent. She could not hear anything other than the sound of her own breathing. She could not hear the songbirds, the babbling of the nearby stream, even the wind rustling through the trees. She could not hear the tell-tale, visceral groans of the Ghouls. Everything was in complete silence.
She flared her nostrils but could not smell anything. All smells were gone, even the tingling, pleasant scent of pine.
Every bit of fur on Ceres’s body stood on end as she stood, fixed to the spot, staring ahead in fear. Slowly, the color drained from her vision, the dark orange of the sky, the greens and earth tones of the woods becoming overcast in a sickly, lifeless gray. She felt like Death had embraced her. Something was draining the life from her senses, an ancient anger that she could not put a name to. It had silenced the Pidgey Ghoul. And it was right behind her! She knew that in a way that she had never known anything before. There was a something behind her, beckoning to her, demanding that she turn and face it.
Her boots moved almost against her will as she slowly, cautiously, turned around and lifted her head to gaze back down along the path.
And there it was.
A tall, rake-thin creature unlike any Folk she had ever seen. It had white fur and was clad in a crimson duster that seemed shockingly bright against the grays and dead hues around the path. It had a long, sinewy tail that lashed the undergrowth and a wide-brimmed hat of the same crimson.
Ceres shivered.
The figure lifted its head, showing its face beneath the brim of the hat. Its features were sharp and feral and its eyes. . .Oh! Its eyes! They blazed like twin embers and burned right into the back of the Delcatty’s mind, glaring through her soul and leaving her bare, showing her for what she really was: A kitten.
Ceres’s natural urge was to flee. To tear off down the path and put as much distance between her and Cheddar as she possibly could. To run and never look back. But she was hypnotized, transfixed by that burning gaze. Her legs would not budge.
She was not sure when exactly the creature moved but suddenly it was lurching towards her like wildfire. A blow from its hefty white tail knocked her off her boots and sent her stumbling backwards. She tumbled through the brambles, cursing as they cut through her fur and clothing and at last she landed at the end of the slope in the shallow stream.
For a long time she just lay there, meditating over her cuts and scrapes, those eyes still burning in her mind as if they had been branded into her psyche.
“Not one of the Folk,” Ceres choked as soon as she had found her voice. She finally levered herself into a semi-erect position in the water, her large ears drooped. She could hear the stream bubbling, the colors had returned and all around was the smell of pine. If not for those Eyes and her wounds the whole event up on the ledge might never have happened.
Once she was certain she could walk again, Ceres rose and dragged herself in the closest direction to the church she could. Her legs hurt and her back ached but she continued along the path, plucking leaves and twigs from her hair. . .

It took her about an hour to reach her goal, the fiery eyes still watching her from the back of her mind and she had not yet finished removing the foliage from her uniform when she tripped through the door and wearily closed it behind her.
The church was dreary within, a stray leaf danced mournfully across the wooden floor and the pews were in disarray, some of them lying upon their backs as though a struggle had taken place here. The windows were shattered and the back stained glass window of Myu had a great hole through it. Standing before it, next to the pulpit, was the Kadabra.
He smiled welcomingly at Ceres.
“Greetings, child, have you come seeking the Gospel?”
The policewoman swayed slightly and felt herself being drawn to the priest, as though there were puppet strings on her heart. Her ears drooped forlornly.
“What a day. . .”
“You’re a pretty one,” said the Kadabra. “You shall be my Queen. . .”
“. . .’
Her feet did not stop moving until she stood immediately before the priest, giving him a blank stare.
“o_o”
When the Kadabra bared his fangs, a bit of the muck between her ears cleared and she realized where she was.
“!!”
His muzzle tipped down towards her neck and she winced.
“…”
CRASH
Both Vampire and Delcatty swayed at the sound of splintering wood coming from where the old oaken doors had been a moment before. Ceres yelped when she felt the eyes in the back of her mind roar into a wild fire, consuming her thoughts. She felt suddenly as though those eyes had been planted in her to watch her.
For the second time in one day, she edged around and looked towards the doors. They had been kicked right off their hinges and now lay in a slowly settling dust cloud. Standing there in the entrance was the creature that had kicked her into the brambles. She instinctively hissed, though the creature was focusing those ruby eyes on the priest now.
Ceres noticed that the eyes in her mind had quieted into sparks with the genuine article there before her.
“That’s enough, Father!” the crimson-clad one spat venomously. The last word had a slight oomf to it, making it more of a snarl.
The Kadabra voiced the question that was also on Ceres’s mind.
“Who are you?”
His eyes widened in a mix of curiosity and fear. . .and perhaps some ire that a gangly thing had just kicked in the door.
The creature lifted its. . .no. . .his face, revealing some startlingly delicate, feline-like features. He also lifted a silver handgun that appeared ridiculously oversized. About as long as Ceres’s forearm.
"My name is Alucard. I'm merely a tool of the special operations agency, Hellsing. I dispose of garbage."
His voice was deep and sounded like wet silk dragging over stone. It was pleasant but at the same time hard and fierce.
Ceres found herself exchanging a questioning look with the priest.
“You’re loony,” they said in unison.
A smirk crossed Alucard’s pale face. One that suggested he saw them both as being barely worth his trouble. He chuckled and shook his head.
“…”
Again the priest and Ceres exchanged glances. They shrugged.
Alucard started forward, his narrow hips swaying like a stalking cat’s and his eyes shining red beneath his hat.
“Look at you. . .dressed in the outfit of a priest. . .clad as a shepherd to lure in sheep. You are nothing. You know not even the meaning of the word shame,” he grinned, baring sharp fangs.
A Vampire!
The Kadabra laughed; a sharp, barking sound. “You think so?” He tossed his head back as if he were letting out a cry but Ceres heard nothing. Alucard flinched slightly and the boards around the pews splintered as Ghouls lurched upwards, answering the call that the Delcatty had been unable to hear. A myriad of different kinds of Folk stood in their number. And all of them wore the uniforms of Scotland Yard. Ceres noticed a Butterfree wearing a commander’s badge.
“Commander Larry?!” she blurted out.
Alucard showed no fear at the Ghouls and continued forward, smiling like a knife. His eyes dancing.
“You are a lowly, insignificant fool who hides behind Ghoul armies. You know nothing. You understand nothing. EVEN HELLSGATES WOULD THROW YOU OUT!!!”
The priest sighed. “Kill him.”
The Ghouls lifted shotguns and fired. Thousands of bullets flew at Alucard, riddling his duster with holes, blowing chunks out of his long legs and his bosom. He snarled as they tore up his face, peeling his cheek away from his fangs then, finally, the priest ordered a cease fire.
Alucard’s mangled remains dropped to the floor and melted into a pool. His hat floated mournfully downwards after him.
Ceres blinked. She felt bad somehow but the eyes in the back of her mind were still there. Quiet but burning.
The Kadabra grinned.
“Figures. . .he was all talk.”
Ceres blew out a sigh and looked out the shattered window. A full moon hung in the sky now, its dancing fingers of light shining into the old church to play amongst the pews and spent shells. A dark, heavy silence hung in the air.
“I should have stayed in bed,” the Delcatty muttered.
Vapors appeared around the moon beams and seemed to guide the stray splatters of blood towards the pool. The pool lurched upwards and a high-pitched cackle filled the room, rising up to the roof and eaves of the old church. It solidified once again into Alucard, his head back to reveal his pale throat and his hands clenched into triumphant fists.
The Kadabra sweatdropped. “Good grief, Charlie Brown. -.-;”
Ceres looked up at him.
“It’s really just been one of those days, huh?”
The priest nodded. “Tell me about it.”
Alucard grinned tauntingly, lolling out a very long, impossibly pink tongue that somehow reminded Ceres of a KISS concert she had gone to once by accident.
“Guns are useless against me. . .Normal guns that is!”
By now the Kadabra was a tad bit worried. He looked over at his Ghouls.
“SHOOT HIM!” he howled.
Ceres threw up her hands. “Sure. That worked SOOO well last time. -.-;”
Alucard withdrew his silver handgun again and swung it behind his head. He squeezed the trigger and leveled several Ghouls at once. Then he fired into the other direction, taking out even more.
They perished with cries of fury.
“Not. . .one of the Folk,” said Ceres.
“Why are you doing this,” asked the priest. “You and I. . .We aren’t so different.”
Alucard lowered his gaze and shifted his thin, gloved hands, releasing the smoking, spent cartridge onto the floor.
“Roaches,” he muttered. “You instant Vampyre are bloody roaches,” he pulled the slide back with his teeth and refilled the cartridge. His white face twisted with rage. “You don’t even know what you are!”
The Kadabra blinked.
So did Ceres.
“And I have my reasons for serving mortal folk.”
He looked down at his gun. "A silver cross from the great Lanchester Church was melted down to cast the 13mm explosive rounds in this gun. So relax! And go to Heaven, forever!"
The priest grabbed Ceres and pulled her in front of him, using her as a living shield.
“She’s the lone survivor of the D-11 unit!” he cackled.
She looked up at him. “Hey, Father? What are you doing? Why are you dragging me into this?”
“Since you serve mortals you cannot very well shoot one!”
Ceres yelped and stared at Alucard. While the Kadabra started nattering on about a partnership, her and the white Vampire met each other’s eyes. His were almost warm.
“Police girl. . .,” he said softly.
She blinked.
“I am going to shoot you in the lung. The bullet will pass through you to hit that scum in the heart.”
Wonderful she thought.
“You don’t want to die now?” he asked. “Do you want to come with me? I won’t force you, the choice is yours.”
Ceres drooped as the words sunk in. She could be shot and killed or shot and turned into a Vampire.
Either way she was getting shot.
“Er. . .Are those the only choices? O_o”
“Answer!”
She was not very good at making spur of the moment decisions like this.
“Okay!”
She closed her eyes and felt a sudden heat in her chest, then the weight of the Kadabra vanished from behind her and there was a resounding crash as he went through what was left of the window behind the pulpit.
Ceres collapsed to the side.
Getting shot did not hurt as much as she thought it would. She just felt an emptiness in her chest.
Alucard moved across the floor to her and knelt at her side. “You chose this, Police girl,” he said with an almost reassuring smile.
She watched him bare his fangs and lean towards her throat. There he paused and grinned a little.
“It is traditional to close one’s eyes.”
She smiled at him and closed her eyes.


When she awoke she felt tired. She was wrapped in a blanket, her ears drooped and her eyes half open. They were red now.
She was groggy and was focusing on the sound of Alucard breathing. Her head was against his narrow chest and she was in his arms. The breathing was awkward, as if he did it out of habit more than anything else.
After a few minutes, he came to a stop and spoke to someone.
“Mission completed. Target activity has been silenced.”
There was a shuffling of feet and a commanding, female voice spoke. “You took far too long for just one target.”
Silence.
“I’ll call for a rescue.”
“No,” said Alucard. “I want you to transfer this Police girl into the Hellsing Organization.”
Ceres looked up at him but could only see the underside of his white chin.
“You don’t make decisions,” said the second voice.
“She made this choice herself.”
More movement, Ceres glanced to the side to see a Persian with blondish hair walking away towards a van.
“Time for the Organization to withdraw.”
I REALLY should have stayed in bed, Ceres thought. Then said aloud. “Excuse me. . .”
Alucard looked down at her with a warm, paternal smile.
“A beautiful night. . .isn’t it, Police girl?”

[Sennet]

Psi, you monster. You made me follow you to a whole other forum to give feedback.

This fic is actually very interesting and it has a lot more potential than I originally thought it would. You frighten me with your ability to make a Pidgey scary.

-Sennet, shameless lover of all PokeMorphs :yes:

[Psi Yamaneko]

Ahahah. Well it's on the Pit of Voles now. *nodnod*