Elsa Bibat wrote:
Set in the "Pulp Hellsing" timeline _not_ in the "Dances
Set To The Music Of Time" timeline.
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DANCES SET TO THE MUSIC OF TIME
An Epic History of Humanity
From The Age of Silver
To The Age of Crystal
And Beyond
http://rakhal.com/florestica/elsa-bibat/index.html
Other fanfiction by the same author:
http://rakhal.com/florestica/elsa-bibat/index.html
Kindly archived by Larry F and
The Lost Library of Florestica:
http://rakhal.com/florestica/
*************************************************
-- Attached file included as plaintext by Ecartis --
-- File: hellp.txt
**********************************************************************
Disclaimer:
Hellsing is owned by Hirano Kouta. All licenses belong to the proper
people. This is used without permission.
The Shadow was created by Walter Gibson. All licenses and rights
belong to the proper people. This is used without permission.
This disclaimer also applies to several intellectual properties
referred to in the text. Please be guided accordingly.
This file can be freely distributed so long as it appears in its
complete form and proper credit given. No part may be reproduced for
monetary gain without permission from the author.
**********************************************************************
Chapter 8
Investigations
"_Very_ interesting."
Patricia Dempsey was what Commander Makepeace would normally call an
odd bird. 'Normally' because Makepeace was not that stupid.
Thin and unprepossesing, Ms. Dempsey's silver hair topped a
remarkably well-aged face for a woman of sixty. Sharp jade eyes set
above a hawkish nose gave her the look of a human bird of prey. This was
rather appropriate for her keen marksmanship skills were still
considered top-notch.
She was also a mistress of pencak silat, an art which made her still
Isn't that "penjak silat"?
surprisingly deadly for her age with a pair of short knives she kept in
her handbag. This was found out by several punks when they tried to mug
her one evening while the Ms. Dempsey was coming home from work.
Her work was what also made her quite different from the normal
white-haired matron of her age. Since the 1950s, Patricia Dempsey had
been an integral part of Military Intelligence Department Five.
Secretary, field agent, control officer, assassin and, finally, data
analyst supreme.
Unlike other old ladies she was snoopy.
Code-named "Oracle", she was the ultimate clearinghouse for data for
MI-5 until a few months ago when Five, as the spooks called it, granted
her as a 'loan' to the Knights of Hellsing. Now, she brought her
considerable talent for analysis and data-gathering to bear on
monitoring the nationwide reports looking for anomalous patterns that
could be caused by vampiric activity, something that the organization
had not done before. She was also training several Hellsing operatives
to become a core independent investigative unit for the Order. Makepeace
had dropped by to pick up his boys for late-night PT and obstacle
running, an important activity with all the nocturnal activity that
Hellsing got up to, and ended up watching the IOU being run through
their intellectual paces instead.
The 'Debt Collectors', the unit's unofficial nickname since the
I kind of suspect that they'd just end up being called the "Collectors".
grunts had heard the acronym for the Investigation Operatives Unit, was
composed of a field unit of three with a control officer coordinating
them all from Headquarters. At least, that was the basic premise on
paper. Agent Dempsey had the tendency go-on site with her 'kids' more
often than not. Makepeace approved but was a bit worried about having a
sixty year old, no matter how skilled, in the field against the things
that Hellsing fought.
The middle-aged commander gave his elderly superior a smile as he
returned to the present.
"What's interesting, Gran?"
Hearing the nickname that the troops had come to call her, Patricia
hmmphed in the way that all offended womenhood did, no matter what the
age.
She turned to her three nominal 'students' and gave them a jaundiced
eye as she noted the signs of a quick return to composure after a smirk.
Aristarchus 'Starsky' Michealson's lips were a bit too tightly pulled at
the mandibular maxima, noticeable in the dark-haired man's thin, gaunt
face. Richard 'Hutch' Hutchins' eyelids were lower than normal and the
round faced man's entire posture was a projecting nonchalance a bit too
much. Ignatius 'Ivy' Frost was the most difficult to gauge, with his
immobile handsome face and hard sapphire eyes but, as Patricia noticed
earlier during earlier instances, his fingers had the habit of playing
with themselves in moments of guilt as they were doing now.
Quirking her lips, the elderly agent let it pass. Boys will be boys
after all and dealing with the double O series for four decades had
The double Os are 6, not 5.
inured her to adult childishness. She continued, turning to the room's
main centerpiece, a large computer screen where the daily data reports
from various police stations and military bases were being collated.
"Well, anyone other than me notice anything?"
The three looked at the screen and Patricia could practically hear
the rusty cogs of thought turning. Well, at least they were turning.
Taking these police and military-trained officers and turning them into
MI-6 class data analysts was a task worthy of Hercules. They had good
grounding but they initially didn't have the wide view that a good
intelligence officer had.
Frost was the first one to pipe up with his stentorian voice.
"The numbers. There's been a marginal increase from last week."
Patricia nodded and gestured for him to continue.
Frost pointed to the screen's lower left-hand corner.
"Disappearances of people and pets are up. Missing people could be
easily explained by increased glovecleaner activity but pets..." Frost
trailed off to let the meaning of what he said said in.
The colonel glanced at Patricia, who was nodding, and asked.
"Glovecleaners?"
"Type A sociopathic personalities. Serial Killer Level 2, people
like that Lecter fellow they have in the States, not totally serial
Lector (which is the latin word for "teacher)
killers either just very amoral people. No definable pattern except to
themselves, highly skilled and intelligent, highly _violent_ when
pushed, often homophagic in their psychosis. We call them glovecleaners
because in one of the seminal cases the killer, instead of just washing
their hands like normal serial killers, even washed the gloves he used."
"And they're running around all over Britain?"
Patricia nodded. "MI-6 quantifies over ten to twenty glovecleaners
in London alone. We've even managed to find and recruit one. Ripley's
the current 009. But we're digressing. Starsky, thoughts?"
"Pets could easily be explained by zoops, ma'am."
Makepeace just glanced at Patricia and the silver-haired woman just
rolled her eyes and explained the term. "Zoops is short for zoophages.
Vampiric activity is often accompanied by increased zoophagic activity
because their retinue of consists of both homophagic and zoophagic
servants. Hutch, how about you?"
The heavy-set man nodded and went over to a keyboard and typed a few
commands. The screen shifted into a map of London. A few moments later
red and yellow dots began appearing all over the cartographic view of
the city.
"Pattern overlay program should have something...there. Can you see
it, ma'am?"
Patricia nodded and was impressed. The children had managed to work
like a team on this particular logical process. They were obviously
using their heads.
"What? I don't see it." Unlike their superior officer. Patricia
sighed and explained.
"The Thames. See the pattern of red and yellow congregating on the
banks of the Thames? Disappearances all down the waterline, spaced as if
someone were actively trying to hide the pattern. Stupid in a way
actually, a plan obviously executed by someone unaware of current
technological standards or someone who has natural distrust for the new
and is used to a particular manner of working things..." Patricia
trailed off letting the clues sink into her superior's brain.
"Or someone who's been alive a long time." The colonel finally got
it.
I wanna see a vampire story where one of the things that gives him away
is not knowing how to drive.
"So we better hit the streets then, don't we?" Starsky had obviously
lost his brains again. Colonel Makepeace first glanced at him, then to
Frost then to Hutch then to Patricia herself, who had a long-suffering
look on her face. Makepeace smirked at that, a sign that her superior
officer agreed with her assessment. She was thankful for that.
"No. N.O. IOU doesn't make a step outside out of Hellsing HQ without
approval from Dame Integra and a full Field Team backup. Understood?"
There was a grudging nod from the three young men and Patricia
offered a thankful one to the commander. Patricia turned to her team and
offered them something to soothe their egos.
"Don't worry. We'll be on the field soon. Besides, there might be
someone smart enough out there to see the pattern and do our
investigation for us and what did I tell you is the first rule of field
work?"
Frost's lips twitched as he said the time-honored maxim of
intelligence agents, his only compromise towards a smile.
"Better them than us."
Somewhere in London, darkness ruled a room.
An audible swish and the sound of rustling cloth preceded a click.
Then, a screen flickered to life.
White letters manifested on a black background.
SHADOWNET SYSTEMS.......ONLINE
SECURITY PROTOCOLS......ACTIVATED
SATELLITE HOOKUP........ENABLED
CONNECTION: AGENT BBNK-003......SEARCHING
CONNECTION CONFIRMED............LOCATING
AGENT BBNK-003 LOCATION: MCC-2A
MMC-2A LOCATION: SECTO3 23
OPENING CONNECTION: MAIN TELEVIDEO LINK.......OPEN
REPORT
The black screen turned to white and an image was displayed on-
screen.
A young woman dressed in green tank top that did nothing to hide the
liberal amount of tattooing on her body was leaning forward, in a pose
almost low enough to peer down her shirt. Blonde hair with odd streaks
of black was tied up into a seemingly incongruous matron's bun and onyx
eyes glared from the screen. A pair of dogtags hung from a long-swanlike
long, swan-like
neck and they hung in the air like chimes.
"Chief? You there?" The woman was obviously leaning down at the
videolink camera as if it were in a cramped space.
"Anyway, I've got some good news for you on the info front, both
online and hardcop. We hit paydirt with the server at the Belize
facility had information on the folks who first developed FREAK tech.
And guess what? Prototype FREAK chips were first made way back in the
stone age of the '40s.
I doubt it. While I'd never take away from the ingenuity of nazi mad scientists
presumably their prototypes for vampire control implants would be something bulkier
than a chip.
The dark room's invisible occupant was leaving.
He needed information and his agent had given it to him.
Now, the Shadow knew.
Sinister laughter filled the room.
Yo. Lamont. Nobody around to impress. You can turn it off.
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