Set in the "Pulp Hellsing" timeline _not_ in the "Dances
Set To The Music Of Time" timeline.

*************************************************

            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 2 Tourists

    "Scheisse!"

    Blue eyes and a diamondine smile gave him a look of questioning
condescension or condescending question. No matter. He hated that look.
Flicking the cellphone closed with a practiced move, he slipped it back
into his tailored jacket.

    "Someone interfered. Do not say 'I told you so'."

    "I will not say it. Merely smile and let you think I said it."

    I told you so.

    "Will you not do that?"

    "What?" Innocence in an angelic face of a demon.

    He sighed a long-suffering sigh. Suffering was long, endless if one
were immortal.

    "Did you really have to try and kill her?"

    "Unlike in the real world, a weak link can become the strongest if
left to itself. Alucard's fledgeling is getting strong. Plus-"

    "Plus the fact that Helsing's experimental bloodline has a new
receptacle if ever the main carrier is destroyed or subverted. I know, I
know. I am familiar with the entire song and dance. By the way, they
know we're here."

    He arched an eyebrow. "Who are 'they'?"

    "They, of course."

    "Oh, ja. Be more vague. Bitte."

    "Who else can 'they' be?"

    "There are a lot of 'theys' out there. Diogenes. MI-5. E Branch.
Hellsing. The Pakistanis. The Freemasons. The Vatican. Who?"

    "Mother called."

    "WHAT!?"

    "She knows we're here. She's sending Schrodinger."

    "SCHRODINGER!!"

    "Ja. Schrodinger."

    "Schrodinger." Calm. Reflection.

    Silence.

    "Schrodinger. Are you sure?" His question was tinged with
calculation.

    "I am dead, not deaf."

    "Ja, ja. Schrodinger." He steepled his hands as he stared into the
dark.

    "Schrodinger."

    "Schrodinger. Wilhelmina Schrodinger. Right?" Talmadge looked up
from the passport as he looked at the person waiting patiently for her
papers.

    Green eyes twinkled behind a pair of glasses. Brushing a stray lock
of golden hair from her face, she nodded with a smile. Whoa, those are
sharp.

    "Ja. That is me." The faint lilt of an accent lent her voice an
alluring tinge of the exotic. German was his guess. Looking down again,
he blinked in surprise.

    Argentina. Must be one of those immigrant things.

    He smiled and returned his gaze at the statuesque blonde before him.
Good posture enhanced the woman's inherent beauty and he could notice
well-muscled thighs peeking out from under her mini-skirt.

    "Business or pleasure?"

    "Business." That smile again. Reminded him of a cat, strangely
enough. He stamped the passport and passed it to her. Her hand brushed
his for a moment and he felt a sensual tingle come up from his fingers,
to his wrist, to his arms, right up to the back of his brain. His hair
stood on end for some strange reason.

    "Danke schon." She looked into his eyes and he stuttered a response.

    "Yo-you're we-welcome, ma'am." For a moment, he was inexplicably
frightened of her. Damn. There you go again, Bobby old boy, stuttering
in front of beautiful women.

    As the woman sashayed away, out of Heathrow, Talmadge turned to his
co-worker, Trowbridge.

    "That was one sexy cat, right, chap?" Talmadge laughed at his joke.

    "Huh?" Trowbridge was obviously lost.

    "Cat! Schrodinger! Cat! Get it!"

    "Uh...no."

    Talmadge rolled his eyes upwards. People here were such idiots. A
simple joke on quantum mechanics and they were lost.

    I hate my job.



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