Sir Integra Hellsing

It was like any other night under the guise of a full moon. Sirens blaring loudly as blips of red and blue shine through the forest, coroners wearing hazmat suits cleaning up globs of blood and flesh and zipping up whatever bodies remained fresh and free from a vampire's influence. The mumbles and and use of Jargon echoing throughout the landscape. Sir Integra has experienced this scene a million times over, and a million times she will face it again. Vampires, ghouls, werewolves, and zombies. A sick Quadfecta of the worst that hell can conjure unto the mortal realm that dwindled the numbers of mankind night by night. "Bastards" She whispered to herself and only to herself as she silently grieved the loss of a number of her agents.

It was commonplace to face at least one causality even under the expertise of the Hellsing Organisation. Vampires were simply faster, stronger, and in rare cases god forbid, smarter than even the best of mortals. Yet that constant cycle of loss didn't make it any easier when she looked upon the lifeless corpse of men under her wing. Naught but ash if she's lucky. But for tonight she allowed herself a moment of introspection as the smoke from her Hendi Winzerman cigar curled around her like a protective veil. Her cross necklace; blessed by the Vatican themselves acted as a natural deterrent for any creature devoid of God's blessing.

"Who goes there?" A command that shot out through the darkness the silence the encompassed around her. Whoever was out there was compelled to show its face from the abyss. Whether it be of God's or Hell's design Sir Integra, last heir of her line was ready for it.