Playing Catch-Up.
The dreaded enemy of Sir Integra Hellsing.
"My God...."
It was horrifying: large, towering and seemingly endless, they threatened to overwhelm her entirely. The never ending monstrosity before her was the only thing that could turn her stomach of steel to mush, making her sickened and exhausted, her palms sweaty. Her hair would stand on end even at the merest thought of it, and her skin simply crawled as though she had been doused with cold, slimy pond water. Like a nightmare she could never awaken from, and it just never went away. No matter what she did to dispel it from existence, it would always come back - and with a vengeance.
The dreaded enemy of Sir Integra Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing was not the undead heathen of Great Britain, nor was it the Iscariot dogs she had grown so used to. No, none of that nonsense. The true enemy she faced now was nothing more than a few days worth of overdue paperwork.
She hated it like nothing else on the face of the Earth. For all she cared, when faced with it, that accident reports were the true scum of the world. Facing Iscariot, the Millennium warmongers and even a few vampires was like dining with the Queen: catered perfection, clean and as simple as pouring a glass of wine. But paperwork? Integra would sooner blast it to Kingdom Come than have to face another sheet of paper. Especially when it came to the stack before her. Mostly comprised of accident reports, there were a few claims, payments, debt letters, and some minor appeasements that needed to be both made and read. Sheets of paper as simple as this made her life more miserable than what should have been possible, or necessary for that matter.
But, all the same, it had to be done regardless if she wanted to do it or not. And it wasn't like she could ask Walter to do it; he was busy with his own little odd jobs, and one of them was not doing the paperwork she did not want to do. She could have asked Alucard, but the man couldn't write for shit; chicken scratch and Arabic script was more distinguishable when juxtaposed to the writing of the Nosferatu. So, her sleep - which was as elusive as the Unicorn - would have to be put on hold yet again for another few hours. Or at least until she had a good chunk of the mess sorted, written and sealed. One or the other. If she left it until later, she'd never get the time to sleep, and she would be kicking herself for falling even further behind.
Removing her glasses, Sir Integra leaned back in her chair and sighed, rubbing her temples and then the bridge of her nose. There was just too much of it, and she didn't know how much more of it she could handle.
"Fretting over trivial nonsense again, my Master?"
Integra jolted sharply, startled out of her semi-oblivious state and back into full-awareness by the ruby cloaked vampire. The man lounged against a bookcase, smirking at her. "What do you want, Alucard?"
"Nothing of any dire consequence, my Master, Sir Integra Hellsing," he crooned with a courtly bow to the woman, removing his hat in a minute gesture of respect.
The head of the Hellsing estate scowled darkly, replacing her glasses and straightening up. "Cut to the chase, would you?" she snapped, lifting her fountain pen up once more and snatching a report from the top of the teetering tower. She resumed writing. "I haven't the time for your antics at the moment."
The smile on Alucard's lips grew considerably. "I give you my apologies then," he said, approaching her desk slowly, swinging his hat by his side in time to his saunter. He rested his hip on the paper-laden bureau. "But, forgive my impertinence, there was something I noticed about you just this instant that I have not noticed before and I must point it out to you before I lose the chance."
Setting her pen down, grabbing onto the teether of her fraying patience and mounting exhaustion, Integra leaned forward, looking up at the vampire. "And, pray tell, what is it that you have noticed?"
"You have wrinkles forming, my Master."
A thick and heavy silence settled in the room as Integra started at Alucard, her face blank. Even the No-Life King shifted at the sullen awkwardness that was beginning to be formed between the two of them, rubbing the bridge of his nose, scratching at his neck and giving an occasional sigh.
"Are you done now, Servant?" Integra demanded in an flat voice, her lips pulled into a taut line of displeasure.
The vampire stood, replacing his hat and smirking crookedly. "Yes, my Master, I am done."
"Then you are dismissed. See to it that you take Miss.Victoria out for some target practice; the weather is nice enough for you to go out and train her further."
"Yes, my Master."
The woman sighed as the Hellsing vampire vanished from the room through a spot in the wall right next to the door. She removed her glasses again and folded her arms behind her head, shaking her white-blonde locks. Impertinence? That didn't even describe it. The vampire was about as brazen as they came, pointing out that she was getting premature wrinkles....
Then it hit her. She was getting wrinkles. Glowering, Integra yanked open a drawer in her desk and hauled out a compact mirror, flipping it open and studying her reflection in the tiny glass surface. Be damned, the monstrosity was right. Around her eyes were the beginning formations of crow's feet, and the laugh lines around her mouth had grown deeper. Integra slammed the mirror back in the drawer and flopped backwards, sulking to herself.
"I'm getting too old for this nonsense."
It was horrifying: large, towering and seemingly endless, they threatened to overwhelm her entirely. The never ending monstrosity before her was the only thing that could turn her stomach of steel to mush, making her sickened and exhausted, her palms sweaty. Her hair would stand on end even at the merest thought of it, and her skin simply crawled as though she had been doused with cold, slimy pond water. Like a nightmare she could never awaken from, and it just never went away. No matter what she did to dispel it from existence, it would always come back - and with a vengeance.
The dreaded enemy of Sir Integra Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing was not the undead heathen of Great Britain, nor was it the Iscariot dogs she had grown so used to. No, none of that nonsense. The true enemy she faced now was nothing more than a few days worth of overdue paperwork.
She hated it like nothing else on the face of the Earth. For all she cared, when faced with it, that accident reports were the true scum of the world. Facing Iscariot, the Millennium warmongers and even a few vampires was like dining with the Queen: catered perfection, clean and as simple as pouring a glass of wine. But paperwork? Integra would sooner blast it to Kingdom Come than have to face another sheet of paper. Especially when it came to the stack before her. Mostly comprised of accident reports, there were a few claims, payments, debt letters, and some minor appeasements that needed to be both made and read. Sheets of paper as simple as this made her life more miserable than what should have been possible, or necessary for that matter.
But, all the same, it had to be done regardless if she wanted to do it or not. And it wasn't like she could ask Walter to do it; he was busy with his own little odd jobs, and one of them was not doing the paperwork she did not want to do. She could have asked Alucard, but the man couldn't write for shit; chicken scratch and Arabic script was more distinguishable when juxtaposed to the writing of the Nosferatu. So, her sleep - which was as elusive as the Unicorn - would have to be put on hold yet again for another few hours. Or at least until she had a good chunk of the mess sorted, written and sealed. One or the other. If she left it until later, she'd never get the time to sleep, and she would be kicking herself for falling even further behind.
Removing her glasses, Sir Integra leaned back in her chair and sighed, rubbing her temples and then the bridge of her nose. There was just too much of it, and she didn't know how much more of it she could handle.
"Fretting over trivial nonsense again, my Master?"
Integra jolted sharply, startled out of her semi-oblivious state and back into full-awareness by the ruby cloaked vampire. The man lounged against a bookcase, smirking at her. "What do you want, Alucard?"
"Nothing of any dire consequence, my Master, Sir Integra Hellsing," he crooned with a courtly bow to the woman, removing his hat in a minute gesture of respect.
The head of the Hellsing estate scowled darkly, replacing her glasses and straightening up. "Cut to the chase, would you?" she snapped, lifting her fountain pen up once more and snatching a report from the top of the teetering tower. She resumed writing. "I haven't the time for your antics at the moment."
The smile on Alucard's lips grew considerably. "I give you my apologies then," he said, approaching her desk slowly, swinging his hat by his side in time to his saunter. He rested his hip on the paper-laden bureau. "But, forgive my impertinence, there was something I noticed about you just this instant that I have not noticed before and I must point it out to you before I lose the chance."
Setting her pen down, grabbing onto the teether of her fraying patience and mounting exhaustion, Integra leaned forward, looking up at the vampire. "And, pray tell, what is it that you have noticed?"
"You have wrinkles forming, my Master."
A thick and heavy silence settled in the room as Integra started at Alucard, her face blank. Even the No-Life King shifted at the sullen awkwardness that was beginning to be formed between the two of them, rubbing the bridge of his nose, scratching at his neck and giving an occasional sigh.
"Are you done now, Servant?" Integra demanded in an flat voice, her lips pulled into a taut line of displeasure.
The vampire stood, replacing his hat and smirking crookedly. "Yes, my Master, I am done."
"Then you are dismissed. See to it that you take Miss.Victoria out for some target practice; the weather is nice enough for you to go out and train her further."
"Yes, my Master."
The woman sighed as the Hellsing vampire vanished from the room through a spot in the wall right next to the door. She removed her glasses again and folded her arms behind her head, shaking her white-blonde locks. Impertinence? That didn't even describe it. The vampire was about as brazen as they came, pointing out that she was getting premature wrinkles....
Then it hit her. She was getting wrinkles. Glowering, Integra yanked open a drawer in her desk and hauled out a compact mirror, flipping it open and studying her reflection in the tiny glass surface. Be damned, the monstrosity was right. Around her eyes were the beginning formations of crow's feet, and the laugh lines around her mouth had grown deeper. Integra slammed the mirror back in the drawer and flopped backwards, sulking to herself.
"I'm getting too old for this nonsense."