Hellsing: Unexpected Sin

Alexander Anderson hates two things more than anything in the world: Vampires and Protestants. When a radical group determined on becoming immortals make attempt after attempt on retrieving Anderson's blood, thinking its regenerative properties might help them, Maxwell decides it's time for him to reveal the Catholic church's hidden treasure: a vampiress named Juliet.


2. Unexpected Ally

She seemed young, no older than himself, yet her skin clung to her frail frame. Her eyes were closed and her ebony colored hair hung around her like cobwebs. She wore a simple white dress, though the bottom of it had begun to tatter and tear from age.

Anderson snarled, pulling out yet another of his bayonets.

"No," Maxwell snatched his Paladin's wrist in his hand, "Father Lawrence seemed to think she could help us."

"Since when did we become the Hellsing Organization?"

"Anderson, think of the possibilities," Maxwell began to smirk, "a vampire under our control! No one would dare stand against the church!"

As Anderson went to tell him what a terrible plan that was, the room was filled with a deafening roar followed closely by a pain in his shoulder. Crying out, more so from surprise rather than pain, Anderson grasped his bleeding shoulder. A thump caused him to turn around and glance down at the woman's body. The bullet, which had passed cleanly through his shoulder, had slapped into her own shoulder. The force behind the impact caused her to fall face first onto the floor.

Damn thing isn't even alive anymore, Anderson scowled as he turned to face the four men standing in the entryway, so much for a powerful weapon.

"Killian wants you to come with us, Anderson," one of the men smirked, "the rest of our men are searching the church for those children. Come quietly and we'll let everyone live."

"How do I know you'll keep your word?"

"You don't."

"Then you'll forgive me if I'm a little skeptical."

The men shared a chuckle as they raised their weapons. Anderson readied his bayonets while Maxwell took a step to hide behind him.

Suddenly, the three men each gave a strangled cry of fright and took a step back from the door. Confused, Anderson followed their gazes towards the floor. His eyes widened in horror as he quickly guided Maxwell away from the creature which now knelt on the floor. When the bullet had passed through him, it had spilled a large amount of his blood on the floor. She hovered over the largest pool of the crimson liquid, her long tongue lapping it up greedily. As Anderson continued to watch in horrified fascination, he noticed her skin seeming to inflate away from the bones. Her hair begun to shimmer in the weak light, her crimson eyes glinting with a primal need to feed.

"W-what the hell is that thing," the militia man cried out, lifting his gun, "stay away."

Her gaze locked onto the three men, pupils slanting with anticipation. Slowly, she stood up and stretched. Anderson was quite positive he heard every bone in her body crack with the release of pressure. With a sigh, she moved forward. Not waiting for her to get any closer, the three men turned and sprinted back down the hallway. She gave chase, disappearing after them.

"Quickly Anderson," Maxwell glanced up at him with a smile, "help her out. She's surely still weak from all those years without blood."

Giving his boss a quick glare, the Paladin took off down the hall following the screams of the militia. As he rounded the corner, he noticed that the gunfire and screams had slowly begun to fade away. He slowed down when he entered the front hall. And there, standing before a large pile of bodies, she stood with her arms crossed and her face void of all emotion. Her eyes had changed, fading into a soulless black to match her hair.

He kept his distance, raising a confused eyebrow, "Is that all of them?"

"Will you kill me if it is," she asked him in a bored tone, "since I've outlived my usefulness?"

"No he will not," the pair turned to see Maxwell enter the hall, his hands interlocked behind his back and a smug expression on his face, "I can think of many uses for a heathen such as yourself."

"Pardon me," she scowled, "but you are not my master."

Maxwell's brows knitted together in rage, "What do you mean, you insolent cow?"

"It was not your blood I drank," she replied evenly, her eyes flitting to Anderson, "I only obey the one who provides me with my first drink following my reanimation."

"Is that so," the Paladin gave a dark smirk as he readied his weapons, "well then, hold still so I can kill you."

The vampiress didn't reply, rather she hung her head and closed her eyes.

"Hold Anderson," Maxwell quickly stepped between the pair, "I order you to keep her alive."

"And what happens when she turns on us?"

"I cannot turn against my master," she said, though her eyes remained closed, "I am bound to the will of the bearer of the blood I drank."

"Besides Anderson, look at that pile," the Archbishop gestured to the large group of bodies, "notice anyone who's missing?"

With a quick glance, he scowled, "Killian."

"Which means he escaped and will more than likely try to capture you again."

"What the hell does he even want with me?"

"That's your job to find out," Maxwell sighed, "I want you to hunt down that insolent dog and make him pay for every single life he took today."

Anderson's eyes slowly traveled to the vampire, who had not moved an inch, "And what am I to do with it?"

"Take it with you," Maxwell scowled, "and try not to kill it. It'll do you some good to have an extra pair of eyes watching your back."

"I don't need this heathen looming about me," the Paladin snarled, tightening his grip on a bayonet, "just let me kill it and rid ourselves of its gruesome aura."

"Anderson," the Archbishop snapped, causing the taller man to freeze, "you will not harm this vampire. Once Killian is dead, you may do as you please with her. For now, she will act as your backup."

Scowling, the priest turned towards his new comrade and sheathed his blessed blades, "And what am I to call you?"

She slowly blinked, "Master Lawrence had called me Juliet."

"Juliet," Anderson repeated, finding it surprisingly appealing, "I suppose it will do. Well then, Juliet, let us find you some better clothes."

"I doubt you'll find any here," Maxwell chuckled, tossing a small wallet to his Paladin, "take her into town. The Iscariot and I can clean up the mess here."

"Very well," he turned back to the awaiting woman, "let's go, heathen."


As the pair reached town, Anderson made sure she walked slightly ahead of him. Fathers Lawrence and Maxwell may have put their trust in the hellspawn, but he certainly wouldn't be caught off guard. People turned to glance at them as they passed (mainly men admiring her alabaster skin and raven hair hanging about her neck). Sighing, he prayed to find a women's apparel shop soon.

"Master," Juliet's soft voice caught him off guard as she sent him an expressionless glance over her shoulder, "what year am I in?"


"I see," she replied flatly, turning back out to the city, "and is this still Italy? So much has changed."

"Just because you decided to take a break doesn't mean the world did."

"Beg your pardon, master, but I did not take a break," she explained while ignoring a series of wolf whistles from a few drunkards lounging outside the local pub, "Master Lawrence thought it best if I was hidden from the rest of the Iscariot."

"Hidden from them," Anderson raised an eyebrow, "you mean they didn't know you were a vampire?"

Juliet shook her head, "Master Lawrence sent me on many missions, so I wasn't around very much."

"What sort of missions?"

"The kind you'd expect from an Iscariot agent," she replied, "I killed vampires, werewolves, ghouls, zombies, and cruel humans who strayed from the path of God."

He froze, trying to process what she had just said. She continued walking for a few steps before noticing he no longer followed her. Stopping, she turned to face him while the crowd continued to pass between them. After a few moments, he scowled and continued to walk.

As he passed her, he leaned in to snarl, "What would a vampire know about the path of God?"

He didn't need to turn to see if she followed, for he felt her ominous aura draping about him like a cloak. They walked in silence until they found a suitable store and entered.

"Forgive me sir," the clerk sighed, "but your girlfriend needs shoes if she is to come in here."

Smiling kindly, Anderson turned to face the shorter man, "Please sir, we are here to purchase new close for this poor creature. Surely you can see it in your heart to allow us to do so."

Noticing the priest collar, the man gulped, "Oh, you are from the church! Forgive me, Father, I never meant to assume-"

"Not at all, dear man," Anderson quickly waved him off, "we'll be as quick as possible."

"Of course, Father. Take all the time you need."

The clerk had barely finished talking when a small pile of clothes were laid upon the counter, "These will do."

Both the man and Anderson gazed at Juliet in surprise, neither having seen her browse the wares.

"Oh," the clerk stammered, "w-would you like to make sure they're the right size? We have lovely changing rooms."

"These will do," she repeated, "thank you."

Pulling out the wallet Maxwell had given him, Anderson quickly paid for the clothes and motioned for his companion to go change. He occupied himself with a small display of chokers and necklaces as he waited patiently for her. When she reappeared, he couldn't help giving a small gasp of admiration.

She had chosen a small black tube top which hugged the curves of her chest nicely. She had also chosen a pair of navy pants which she held up with a pair of brown suspenders and dark brown leather shoes. Her shoulders and back were protected by a long, violet colored trench coat. She had even taken the liberty of tying up what little hair she had into a stringy ponytail behind her head (though a good portion of it hung on either side of her pale face). A pair of brown leather gloves adorned her hands, her fingers and knuckles visible through the holes it provided.

"My goodness," the clerk smiled, red flushing his cheeks, "I was honestly a little skeptical when I rang those out, but you really make it work my dear."

Juliet's eyes wandered up to Anderson's, waiting patiently.

"It's missing something," he said, turning back to the necklace display, "here."

Picking out a choker to match her jacket, the Paladin paid for it and proceeded to strap it around her slender throat.

"There," he said taking a step back, "now it'll do."

Juliet nodded and bowed in thanks to the still smiling clerk before following her master back out onto the street. She walked beside Anderson, her new outfit catching more glimpses than her old one ever could. The tall man glared at her out of the corner of his eye, his gaze falling upon the choker. He had intended it to be more of a collar than anything; something to remind her of her place and who she belonged to. No matter what she said, she was no Iscariot agent and she sure as hell was no instrument of God.

"Is there something on your mind, Master?"

He blinked as her eyes snapped in his direction, "Let's get something straight, heathen, you will not speak unless spoken to. When you do speak, make it short and to the point. Am I clear?"


"Very good," he nodded, "now, I need to figure out where to start looking for Killian."

"Would this help, Master?"

He glanced down at the small piece of paper she held out to him.

"What the hell is that?"

"A letter," she explained, "I pulled it off one of those men who attacked you."

"And how is a letter going to help us find Killian?"

"There is a return address, Master," she pointed to the top left side of the envelope, "it could be the location of his base."

Snatching the item from her hand, he quickly glanced it over, "Perhaps. Only one way to find out. Looks like we're heading to Rome."

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