Hellsing: Resurrection (WIP)

Chapter 8: Across the Pond

The private jet cut silently through the night sky, engines humming like a lullaby of restrained violence. Above, stars scattered like cold fire across a velvet-black dome. The moon, heavy and full, spilled silver light across the ocean, turning the waves into a shivering mirror. But inside the cabin, serenity was nowhere to be found.

The interior of the jet was sleek, dressed in sharp grays and muted blues. Leather seats lined the cabin walls, their high backs forming private alcoves. Down the center stretched a long table, its surface dimly lit by recessed lights that glowed like distant embers. The steady thrum of the engines vibrated beneath the floor, a reminder that they were suspended miles above solid ground.
Integra sat at the head, spine straight as a blade. Her fingers tapped a slow rhythm on the armrest, more habit than thought. Her single visible eye tracked the clouds slipping past the window, sharp and unreadable. Near her elbow, propped against the wall, rested her saber. It caught a sliver of light each time the plane shifted, a silent promise that she would never be unarmed.
Across from her, Alucard lounged like a shadow stitched into reality. His long legs sprawled, boots planted loosely on the floor. His hat and glasses lay discarded on the table, exposing eyes that gleamed a deep, unnatural red. They reflected the cabin's faint glow like twin coals, lazy and amused, yet never still.
Near the back, Seras sat cross-legged on the floor, shoulders relaxed, gaze unfocused. Max sprawled beside her, snoring softly, his tail twitching in sleep. The dog's patchy coat had begun to heal, a testament to her care and quiet stubbornness. She ran her fingers behind his ear in slow, absent circles, the way someone might fidget with a coin. A worn chew toy squeaked once as Max shifted, then went still again. Seras smiled faintly. This, waiting in the low hum of silence, with nothing to shoot and no one screaming, was familiar. Not peaceful, not exactly, but something close enough. The kind of stillness she didn't question anymore.

Alucard's gaze slid toward her, the corner of his mouth curling into a slow, knowing smirk. "Comfortable, Police Girl?" he drawled, voice smooth as aged wine but coiled with that sharp edge he never dulled. "You do remember we're not flying out here for the view." His eyes flicked to Max, then back to her with faint amusement. "Though I'm sure the Americans will be thrilled when you bring your mutt to the briefing."

"The mutt stays on the plane," Integra snapped, not even turning from the window. Her voice cut clean through the cabin, sharp enough to silence the engines if they'd dared talk back. The kind of voice that didn't invite argument, just obedience. "We're not parading a half-healed stray into a U.S. military outpost. This is a mission, not a kennel." She finally glanced over her shoulder, that cold, piercing gaze settling briefly on Seras before flicking to Alucard. "And I expect discipline from both of you. This isn't London. Try to act like professionals."

Seras straightened, brushing invisible dust from her trousers as she murmured, "Yes, Sir." The words came quick, automatic, but her mouth tightened around them like she had more to say and knew better. She didn't meet Integra's eyes. Max let out a soft huff beside her, sensing the shift, but didn't move. Across the cabin, Alucard tilted his head with quiet interest, his smirk deepening, not mockery this time, but something keener. He didn't need to speak; the look said enough. Orders were given. Restraint was expected. And he was wondering how long it would take to break both.

Integra turned just enough to face him, her eye narrowing with that glacial precision she'd perfected over years of commanding monsters. She didn't speak, she didn't have to. The look alone was a warning, cold and absolute: don't you dare. Alucard met it without flinching, the grin never fading. If anything, it sharpened, lips curling with that ageless hunger he wore like a badge. Slowly, deliberately, he reached for the crystal chalice resting near his elbow. The blood inside shimmered darkly under the soft lights as he raised it in a silent toast, crimson eyes never leaving hers.