I'm just groovin, doin' the backlog dance....
Elsa Bibat wrote on 10/31/2004, 4:23 AM:
>
>
> Set in the "Pulp Hellsing" timeline _not_ in the "Dances
> Set To The Music Of Time" timeline.
Byakhee Bob: "Dammit! I'm calling my agent!"
> *************************************************
>
> 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'."
Ahh. These must be the people behind The Lamia That Wanted Ceres.
> "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.
Damned telepaths. Or, judging from the "punctuation," I'm guessing a
Master/Childe pair of vamps.
> He sighed a long-suffering sigh. Suffering was long, endless if one
> were immortal.
But so are the parties!
> "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."
Helsing's, or HeLLsings's "experimental bloodline"? I admit, I read
ahead into the next chapters. I wonder just how many places the various
Helsing family branches cross with Alucard's blood?
> He arched an eyebrow. "Who are 'they'?"
>
> "They, of course."
>
> "Oh, ja. Be more vague. Bitte."
Bitte-r, much?
Ow! Sorry! Okay, I'll stop.
> "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?"
"The Pakistanis"? What about the Boy Scouts?
> "Mother called."
>
> "WHAT!?"
"It's your own fault. YOU added her to our 'friends&family'
endless-minutes wireless plan."
> "She knows we're here. She's sending Schrodinger."
>
> "SCHRODINGER!!"
"And her little cat, too!"
> "Ja. Schrodinger."
>
> "Schrodinger." Calm. Reflection.
The outward calmness of someone who's *trying* not to break down in
hysterics.
I have no idea who Schrodinger is, but the reactions here are
pricelessly evocative.
> 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."
Kind of need a scene break, here.
> "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.
"Ze better to bite you with, liebchen."
> "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.
<shudder> Someone from Argentina with a German accent is a sufficient
automatic red flag in and of itself. But if this ties into any of the
Argentina suff in the Hellsing manga....
> He smiled and returned his gaze at the statuesque blonde before him.
"returned TO," perhaps?
> 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.
I *think* that's "Danke schoen."
> "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.
Good instincts, Bobby.
> 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!"
Sug: "Get it?"
> "Uh...no."
>
> Talmadge rolled his eyes upwards. People here were such idiots. A
> simple joke on quantum mechanics and they were lost.
<facefault> Aaaand the author is double-decking the joke for us...
> I hate my job.
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