Mother of Mercy

a Hellsing fanfiction by Princess of Pain

I look back on her, just before I leave for my... medication.  My mind 
considers the image of her, and just how different we are.  Her hair 
is dark strawberry blonde while mine is long, plain platinum.  My eyes 
are some shade of blue, and hers are an intense red.  She is round 
where I am straight, smooth where I am accented, short where I am 
long.  Everything is different, even the things which women are 
supposed to have in common.  Her breasts are large and sag without the 
benefit of a bra... I glance down at mine.  They are pale and silver, 
even the nipples are near-colorless, and too small to be anything but 
perfect.

A drop of blood drips onto the slight swell of my right breast.  It 
slides down to the nipple like a vampire's tear, and stays suspended 
there.  It looks like I lactate blood.  I can't help but smirk at 
that.  I probably do.

Now, where...

Pupils contract to pinpoints of darkness in my skull as I flip the 
light on.  Skin crawls into bumps of nervousness as my bare feet pad 
across the tile floor.  More drops of blood patter onto perfect white 
tiles.

That bitch.  That goddam vampire bitch.

My reflection, despite looking disheveled, is the picture of calmness.  
It flips away when I open the medicine cabinet.  Searching.  
Searching.  Where...

There.

The bottle is completely full.  I've never used it before.  It fits in 
my palm and weighs the same as a bowling ball.  So small, such a 
carefully-carved glass flute.  I know without looking that the bottom 
has LCSC inscribed on it.  This was Walter's make, after all, and the 
man takes pride in his work.  Along the side: a cross, followed by the 
letters Hg.

The contents look like living steel.  It begins to glow the instant I 
touch it.

Shit.  Shit.  Shit.  That vampire bitch.  What if I hadn't... what if 
now--

The stopper slides out easily.  It makes a chime-like noise as it 
drops to the floor.

Jesus, it's cold.

A flick of the wrist.  A good half of its contents fly out, little 
living bullets that patter onto my neck like blood on tiles.  It's 
colder than the air, like a glacier has landed on my neck, and the 
cold burns through my entire form, running rampant like a rabid 
vampire.

I scream.  I wish I could say I didn't.  But anyone feeling this agony 
would have.  I forget Alucard, I forget Maxwell, I forget the vampire 
bitch in the other room, wondering where I am and what I am about.  
Nothing is here but exquisite torment, the feeling that something is 
being burned out of me.  And I welcome it.  I relish it.  The burning 
is what I hoped to feel.  Instead of smoking and the mercury sinking 
into my flesh and gouting blood, I feel a great cleansing as my 
infection is purged from my body.

Good.  Otherwise, I would have re-opened the cabinet, and found the 
last of Walter's failsafes: a derringer pistol, with a single bullet 
loaded into it.  The bullet has a silver-alloy casing and explodes 
upon hitting the target, sending a spray of blessed mercury into the 
brains of the victim.  If the silver doesn't work, the mercury does.  
I can see my naked corpse sprawled across these tiles like a bad joke, 
my blood spelling senseless letters.  I can smell the heavy barbecue 
scent of my burning flesh, accentuated by the sour stench of frying 
hair and the sweet, heady smell of cooking bone.

And I can just see the way he would smile.  Bastard.  I hate vampires.  
I hate them all.

The burn passes.  I knew it would.  Everything passes to someplace 
unknown--Heaven or Hell, I suppose.  Everything, but...

How did I end up on the floor, I wonder.  I know.  I was so wrapped in 
pain and my own mind that I didn't feel my chill form collapse and 
twist itself into a fetal position.  I touch my neck.  The wound 
hurts, but it's a normal, healthy hurt.  It will take a few days to 
heal.  I welcome the wait.  I would have to use Walter's last present 
if it had already begun to heal.

My vision spins for a moment as I rise.  My mirrored neck not has a 
regular Rorsatch test on it, interloping patterns of dark blood and 
liquid silver weaving together around twin holes.  Little speckles of 
red and metal adorn the tops of my breasts.  My eyes are haunted in 
the mirror.

Violet-blue, I think.  My eyes are violet-blue.

It's the first time I've really noticed.

Back to Hellsing Shoujo-Ai Fanfiction