Hellsing: Resurrection (WIP)

Chapter 18: Project Hellhound

The open field stretched before Integra, glazed in the sharp light of early morning. Dew clung to the grass like fine threads of silver, and the air hung with that cold, metallic bite only spring could carry. At the far end, a row of Doberman puppies sat in stiff formation, their black-and-tan coats sleek and gleaming under the sun. They were still young, barely past their first growth spurts, but already they held the posture of soldiers, trained to sit, stay, and obey without question. This was Project Hellhound, a costly, calculated gamble that had drained more from Hellsing's coffers than Integra cared to admit. Arms crossed over her chest, she surveyed the line with a narrowed eye before turning her attention to Caldwell, wordlessly waiting for his explanation.

Caldwell, as eager as ever when it came to his pet projects, adjusted his glasses with the air of a man about to deliver a sales pitch. "Impressive, aren't they, Sir Hellsing?" he began, his tone clipped but carrying that undercurrent of pride she'd come to expect from him. "These aren't just any dogs. Selectively bred for intelligence, obedience, and field awareness. They'll track, patrol, even handle light supply delivery. Not for direct combat, obviously, but when it comes to search operations or moving through terrain our soldiers can't... they'll excel." His voice settled into something steady, practiced, like he'd rehearsed this speech a dozen times in front of the mirror.

Integra remained still, her gaze never leaving the pups as Caldwell spoke. The puppies held their sit with surprising discipline, their ears pricked, bodies tense with attention. Caldwell continued, undeterred by her silence. "They're versatile. Fast through rough terrain, good at locating survivors, and capable of carrying small medical supplies if needed. Their utility goes beyond traditional security work. This is more than an experiment, Sir. This is Hellsing adapting to the times." He gestured lightly toward the line of dogs as if they might stand at attention for his benefit. "An investment in the organization's future."

Integra exhaled slowly, the motion barely more than a shift in her shoulders. Her gaze narrowed, the weight of calculation settling behind her eye. "And an expensive one," she said, her tone cool but edged. "4000 pounds per puppy, plus the cost of the new kennel facilities. That is a considerable portion of this quarter's budget, Caldwell. Tell me... why should I believe they're worth it?" There was no venom in her voice, just that cold, pragmatic edge she reserved for decisions that mattered.

Caldwell didn't flinch. He had anticipated the question, probably rehearsed the answer as carefully as the sales pitch. "Because survival depends on adaptability," he replied without missing a beat. "We've spent decades relying on brute force and gunfire, but wars aren't won on firepower alone. These dogs will go where our men can't, sense what we can't, and do it faster and quieter than any operative. They're not a replacement for soldiers, but they fill the gaps. And, if I'm being honest, they're far cheaper to feed and train than most of our human assets." The faintest trace of a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, just shy of inappropriate.

Integra raised a brow at that, exhaling slowly through her nose. Before she could fire back with another question, movement at the edge of the field caught her attention. A familiar shape, lingering just outside the line of sight, hovering with thinly veiled interest. Seras. The blonde lingered near the far corner, her red eyes fixed on the puppies with a brightness that had nothing to do with professionalism. She wasn't making a scene, not yet, but Integra could already sense where this was headed.

Seras shifted, clearly trying to creep closer without drawing attention, but her idea of stealth was laughable at best. For all her combat skill, subtlety had never been her strength, especially not when something piqued her curiosity. One of the pups twitched an ear at her approach, but none broke formation. That didn't stop Seras. Crouching low, she edged closer, her expression lit with barely contained delight. The moment she reached them, all pretense of restraint vanished. With an audible gasp, she scooped one of the puppies into her arms, squishing its face between her gloved hands with reckless affection.