((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. . .”