♠ 15

[hiscountess]

Sir Integral Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing-called many things by friends and foes alike from Master and Iron Maiden to less flattering like Protestant Swine, and more recently she had become the Countess- sat bathed in the twilight of her office. Her silver blonde tresses cascaded down her hips and a cloud of smoke concealed part of her features.

Comments

[PRIVATE]

[brainsnotfists]

Shader read the post and it's mention of Menolly's murder and thought carefully before finally replying. "If you want information, I suggest speaking to a young man named Justin, he works for what's left of the police department, in forensics. I only have questions and suspicions."

[OOC: Okay, apparently the subject lines just don't show up in this lay out. *flails* ((PRIVATE)) failcommentspam is fail, okay?]

[PRIVATE]

[hiscountess]

Immediately after Integra read the response, she began to reply: "I seldom get along with the police." She sneered when she even remotely considered the possibility. Police officers, the exceptional handful aside, seemed like a lot of useless and unqualified fools. No matter the world she was in, her rigid beliefs endured.

"Was the swastika painted with the blood of the victim?" she inquired further, paying little heed to the police force suggestion. A long forgotten memory was unearthed from the depths of her mind. Thirty years ago, a stolen plane carrier, the HMS Eagle. She still remembered the details of the crimson swastika painted on the deck.

Hadn't the little huntress left unsubtle missives about surprising her soon?

(ooc; LMAO! I went to shower and I was like o.O at the mail. Yes, they don't! :( ).

[PRIVATE]

[brainsnotfists]

Ms. Hellsing was obviously a woman of strongly held (in a iron gauntleted fist) opinions. "Police have their useful purposes, and often have things like forensic labs, which I sadly lack, Ms. Hellsing," she wrote. "So I can't tell you if the swastika was painted in the victim's blood, only that it was most likely blood, and it was painted on the tree that the victim--Menolly--was hanging from by her intestines."

"Who is the 'little huntress' Ms. Hellsing? And can you perhaps tell me anything about an organization called 'Millenium'?" Shader had a slight suspicion that she might all ready know.

((OOC: ?style=mine is my friend.))

[PRIVATE]

[hiscountess]

Integra Hellsing frowned when her question was left partly unanswered. If it was painted in blood, the most logical conclusion without examining the blood samples would be that the victim's-this Menolly girl-blood was employed as substitute for paint.

"Duly note," was the curt answer she wrote for the woman.

She made a pause, one eyebrow lifted, wondering how could she ignore about the existence of Millennium. Hadn't those bloody monsters tried to throw a pointless conflict in this same City months ago?

"Millennium were our old enemies," she explained with a lingering humourless smirk on her lips. Long annihilated, relics of decades ago. "The huntress and sharpshooter known as Rip van Winkle was a lieutenant in their ranks." She didn't put much of a fight against the likes of them. A mere bait to draw Alucard away. "Does that answer your question?"

[guardianhime]

There has been another murder?

[hiscountess]

When she read Yuuki's reply, Integra silently cursed how compelled she was to write down most of her actions in unnecessary detail. Her slender fingers began to type on the keyboard again.

"A woman called Menolly was murdered under circumstances that intrigues me."

voice; private;

[firstvampire]

[He somehow had to silently laugh at your entry... being 3rd person and all. But being a gentleman, he wouldn't make fun of you.]

I know some things about it. Lady Menolly was the victim this time, and the murderer behind it... well, there have been some suspicions, none confirmed.

voice; private;

[hiscountess]

[You better not. Alucard gets murderous when someone insults her.]

Integral crushed the half finished cigar in the ashtray. The compelling curse made her even irritated to indulge herself in her vice.

Suspicion. She was almost certain who had done this. Either one or the other, the artistic handiwork leaned on the sharpshooter. But she would not continue to say no more until she talked to Alucard about this.

"How are your eyes, Kuran?" she asked, attempting to divert the topic. She was mildly interest in his recovery.

voice; private;

[firstvampire]

[He's too much of a royal to even think of the idea of insulting such a fine lady.]

There has been some improvement, thank you, my Lady.

I shan't ask about your suspicions, Lady Hellsing... however, I did speak to one of the people in forensics. He seems to think a girl known as "Road" did this, and she is apparently something called a "Noah".

But that is the extent of my knowledge upon the matter.

voice; private;

[hiscountess]

"I see."

Road? Noah? That made no sense to her. The swastika painted in blood painted to a Midian work. A vampire's doing. One she knew very well.

"What made him reach to that conclusion?"

[nomad_priest]

Sir Integral Fairbrook Wingates, the Iron Maiden, was a little too much like Caterina. In fact, it scared Abel to his core that someone from Albion could be just like the Iron Maiden of the Vatican, even down the hair color. Mostly scared that it was Caterina in disguise, Abel read carefully.

Hrngh, by her description, could very well could be his employer.

[hiscountess]

Integra looked exasperated at the newest comment. Why was she being compared to a bloody Catholic? She frowned, knowing it must be a mistake. She typed a short and dismissing answer to leave no doubts:

"I am not your employer."

[nomad_priest]

Bloody Catholic? The last he had heard, most of Albion was Catholic in itself. Maybe before the Dark Ages, there had been a rift in the church? He wasn't surprised, even though the Vatican now was undergoing some disagreements of his own.

"I apologize, Sir Hellsing. You just seemed very much like her, even in tone of voice and hair color."

[hiscountess]

What was this man saying?! Integra's blood boiled in rage. The British Empire was an Anglican Crown! The crusaders from the Vatican had been swiftly repelled when they tried to invade them in their last "Reconquista". She had seen their broken corpses impaled and mounted across the ruins of London thirty years ago.

She recovered her composure to reply. Over her dead body her beloved domains would become Catholic lands.

"You are already aware I am not her," she wrote, typed text didn't transmit the iciness of the natural message. "Don't mistake me again."