739/Loose Ends.

Loose Ends.
Date of Scene:	04 October 2014
Location:	British Isles-548
Synopsis:	A simple mission to take out the last source of false vampires on British shores takes a dramatic turn when the enemy are expecting Hellsing's arrival, and events a hundred worlds away conspire to strike at the worst possible moment.
Cast of Characters:	246, 269, 399

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Sir Integra (246) has posed:
    When it comes to actual military operations, the Hellsing Organization has partaken in remarkably few since their arrival in the Multiverse. Sir Integra has focused primarily on training exercises and internal security; aside from a few notable exceptions, she has not leant her people out to be used on the Multiverse's battlefields, and she has not asked for assistance from her Confederate Allies in dealing with situations at home.

    This has changed today. At dawn, Sir Integra sent out a private message requesting both Taro and Nine join her at an airstrip. The field is part of a military complex, and three helicopters are in the process of being prepared for a mission. Perhaps most tellingly, Sir Integra's right hand woman - Ms. Greene - has not accompanied her this morning, and Integra is waiting on her own, smoking a cigar and trying to ignore the ever-present drizzling rain beneath a large umbrella held by a shaky-looking soldier.

    It is cold, it is wet, it is miserable. It is England, and she is irritated that she is not already underway.

Taro (399) has posed:
    It is cold, it is wet, and it is remarkably unlike the usual weather in Neo Arcadia.
    Taro gives barely a nod to the weather, regardless. His combat armor is comfortable enough, and its slick outermost layer drizzles away the rain. He does concede to an umbrella of his own, though, to keep his head relatively dry on his walk from the car that brought him here to the landing strip.
    The helicopters and the loading thereof are noted in a seemingly absent way as he approaches. Oh, he's paying attention, but his observations do not usually require staring. Instead, he looks up to Integra once close enough, and at her expression remarks, "I did account for the time difference, I trust. Good morning, Sir Hellsing."

No. 9 (269) has posed:
    Well that's good. Throwing your folks lives away for nothing is kinda pointless, isn't it? Hell even NINE doesn't just throw Golems at every little thing, and his people are fucking catatonic, there's not even a loss there, is there? They're just ambulatory metal-filled meat that shoots or slices people with beam weaponry.

    But- wait, what? She'd been doing so WELL. Training and internal security are important! This, whatever it is, is probably, NOT, as important? ...Eh, it's not like Nine payed attention to why she might possibly be doing it.

    It's not like Nine pays attention to /anything/. It might be why he's fighting catatonia himself. Apparently being stupid really can be terminal from more than just getting your ass shot.

    Nine's here. He'd show up. He doesn't bother with an umbrella. His mitochondria can keep up with the chill of the water, though he shivers like a chiuahuah to do it. He's wet and pale, the water washing over his body, plastering his hair to his face, darkening it to a dirty sort of honey color and... less said about 'wet GOLEM smell' the better. He'd be there though, waiting calmly, patiently, stinking and soaking wet.

    "G'mornin Sir, reportin for... uh, yer, requestin, me, bein here." Headscratch.

Sir Integra (246) has posed:
    Integra nods to each in turn, and takes a long drag from her cigar. The tip glows brightly, and she takes her time to exhale the stream of smoke upwards before she deigns to begin explaining... well, anything at all, really.

    "You're here in acceptable time."

    She nods to the soldier holding the umbrella up, and the door to the helicopter is opened for herself and her guests - though she doesn't move towards it right away. "We've received confirmation on the location of what we believe to be the last vampire chip factory in Scotland. I don't have time to wait around on this. We're going to take care of it personally."

    There's no indication that she's brooking any challenge to this. She has absolutely no authority to order either of them around in reality, of course, but she's simply assuming that they'll go along with it. "We'll be accompanying Squad One, they're using the new laser weaponry you recommended, Taro. Squad Two, led by Captain Daniels, will be ensuring the perimeter remains secure. Squad Three, led by Commander Victoria, will perform overwatch from above and extraction should it become necessary. I will be leading Squad One."

    Explanation given, she turns and climbs into the helicopter - a large military transport which has enough room, just about, for six serious-faced individuals, Sir Integra, Taro... and at a stretch, maybe even Nine. But it won't be a comfortable ride.

Taro (399) has posed:
    Taro listens in the silence of a soldier as Integra explains now what her ealier message had (understandably) left out, giving a small nod at the mention of the chips, and a second at her having taken her recommendation in weapons. "I see....may I presume, then, that we will be collecting their research, if so possible?" That would explain why he was asked along.
    Aside from that, he seems to have no outward dislike of her plan, or of the authority with which she provides it. This is her world, her army, and he is here at her request. Thus, he will advise but not challenge. He will also follow her in the direction of the waiting helicoper, lowering and folding his umbrella along the way. At least he's on the small side of human-sized, even with the armor, and so fitting him will not be much trouble. His 'brother', on the other hand...

No. 9 (269) has posed:
    Blink. "Vampire chips? Are those like, blood flavored r' sumthin?" A pause, then, looking up at the weeping sky. "Act'lly tha'd be pretty good, come t' think a it, especially if ya added seasonin t' it. Lays-style r' Doritos-style tho? Cus I don' think it'd stand up t' most Lays style chips. Mebbe kettle style? I aint much fer kettle style tho, hurts m' mouth..."

    Assuming Nine will go along with something by just assuming he'll go along with it in an authoritive verbal manner? Genius. He falls in without even thinking about it. He scratches his head though. "You uh, you, mebbe, want sum backup? I got bout a hundred n' fifty Golem troopers I could bring in- they aint rally people no more, so s' better n' wastin yer folks, eh?" Nine aint much of a person himself, so if HE says they're not people? They're not. Behind him a three pack of his kind sort of fade into view (or existence?) two red and one purple, full bodysuits and masks. He lost one trying to keep Haytham alive... and ultimately, failed. But hey, the loss of one of his people isn't like losing a PERSON person. They'd been a person person. Before he'd kidnapped them. Civilians. With families! :) But they weren't people now. Not anymore. They'd retreated from the pain, retreated fully and finally, and there wasn't anyone there, behind those masks. Not anymore>

    A glance over at Taro. That explains why he's along. "...Why'd you invite me? M' I runnin bodyguardin work 'ere? On Taro r' you?" He tilts his head, following... and then stops. "Uh." Blink. He shakes himself like a dog, whipping water everywhere. "Um." He stares at the helecopter, stinking and slightly embarrassed.

Sir Integra (246) has posed:
    "Obtaining the research is a secondary priority. If we can take one of the researchers, that will be ideal, but they have universally preferred suicide to capture so far. I see no reason to expect that to change."

    Looking to Nine from within the helicopter - which is large enough, even if it isn't going to be comfortable - Integra puts her cigar back between her lips, and takes another puff. "No. This is also a test of Hellsing's new weapons, and I don't want a bunch of monsters on the streets causing panic. We'll deal with it ourselves, quickly, and efficiently. And you will accompany us as a.... failsafe. In the unlikely event of our deaths, I expect you to be tough enough to get away and tell the Confederacy what it was that killed us."

    One of the soldiers inside speaks up with a cheerful tone of voice and a rich Northern accent, "Cheer up, mate. Big lump like you ain't got nothin' to worry about. I've popped three of these places before. Walk in the park, innit?"

    Integra blows another stream of smoke into the transport. "Quite."

Taro (399) has posed:
    Taro notes the sudden appearance (or more likely simply their return to visibility) of Nine's subordinate Golems, but since it's not his place to say whether the should come along, he says nothing. Integra quickly settles the matter, however, and so he only adds, with a touch of wry, "Two monsters seems to be enough for her, hm?" While it no doubt looks a bit silly, he offers an encouraging hand out to Nine to coax him onto the chopper with them.
    It's going to look more than a bit silly if Nine actually takes that hand, but ah well. An acceptable price.
    "I would like to obtain a few chips if that's possible?" he ventures to their host/commander. "It is much easier to tease secrets out of a design when I have a physical one in hand."

No. 9 (269) has posed:
    He actually has the gall to grumble a bit. He knows he's a monster, but it's still surprising that it bothers him a little every now and- he turns his eyes, flat, on Integra. He's... going to, disobey that. Yeahh. If it looks like they're going to die? Nine would have them deliver the damn message themselves by hauling their ass out of there. He's not so, good at, talking, to folks, or remembering messages. So hauling them alive to relate things themselves? Probably the best way to go here. He looks over at the soldier as he slips in, sitting his ass down and immediately filling the chopper with the scent of wet monster, grinning and offering a fistbump. "Aint worried fer my ass man-o, jest tha I'm th' one what's s'pposed t' die so folks like 'er can live." He jerks a thumb at Integra, looking over at Taro for a moment, eyes distant and a bit sad.

Sir Integra (246) has posed:
    "If we recover some, you can have them." Integra assures Taro. The soldier gives a fistbump with a snort of amusement, and as the helicopter whines with protest at the added load, the three teams move out.

    There's a quick comms check between the three team leaders, but for the most part, Integra stays quiet. She doesn't address Nine's concern - or the possibility of being disobeyed. Perhaps that is the real reason she's brought him. Or perhaps she expects that, were something to be enough of a problem to cause it to be relevant, it'd all be over too quickly for it to matter anyway.

    Whatever the case, the whining helicopter is soon in transit - and it is a surprisingly quick trip, too. The soldiers begin checking their fancy new weapons as the flat, grey expanse of a city makes itself known below. Integra checks her sidearm, too. "We'll give Squad Two five minutes to get into position, then we'll deploy. I want Perkins and Johnson in first, then you Nine. The rest of us will follow after the initial room is cleared."

Taro (399) has posed:
    Taro knows Nine well enough to suspect the Golem will come after him were anything to happen, orders be damned. This is taken into account. He meets Nine's gaze when he looks over at him, unsmiling as always, but giving him a nod of assurance.
    Comms and weapons are checked, and he checks his own while they're at it - though this seems to consist of checking the seams of his gantlets and then making sure his beam sabres are firmly in their sheaths at his waist. Then, he bows his head, keeping his voice to a bare murmur that's the cadence of a prayer.
    His head rises as pre-landing orders are given, acknowledging them with a nod.

No. 9 (269) has posed:
    Nine's not... that, open, about his planning on not obeying orders. But no need to make a fuss of it one way or another. Right now, he'll do what he's told, until what he's told is so antithical to what he is that he can't do it anymore. He's a bodyguard type. He's here to keep people alive, not watch them die. Die FOR them, not the other frickin way around. But that's not important right now. As she's giving her orders, he nods, scattering raindrops from his sodden hair, "Yes sir." A nod.

    aro's nod of assurance actually reassures the Golem, who nods in turn, dripping and smelling bad. He'd taken a shower but rain is rain and wet GOLEM is wet GOLEM, scrubbing be damned. Wringing out his hair in the middle of the chopper, he flips it back, likely getting a few droplets on, oh, everyone. Now everyone smells faintly of GOLEM, whee!

Sir Integra (246) has posed:
    As any commander knows, a good plan rarely survives first contact with the enemy. As Integra's people assume the positions she'd intended for them, though, hers does seem off to a better start than many. Daniels confirms that the perimeter is secure, and Victoria confirms that the extraction team are in position too. One good thing about vampires is that they are, if nothing else, a predictable sort when it comes to their hours of operation. The sun is well above the horizon now - and it is time to move.

    "GO! Our orders are clear, and they will NOT change. SEARCH this facility, and DESTROY all vampire scum and their collaborators. GO GO GO!"

    In an instant, the helicopter is dropping alarmingly, and the soldiers drop a rope ladder. Their descent is impressive - though whether Nine chooses to test the weight or just trust himself to jump the last twenty feet is another question entirely. Two of the soldiers are booting in the door in record time, though, and from the sound of laser fire within, Taro's weapons are performing as advertised.

Taro (399) has posed:
    Well. If nothing else it will be easier for Nine to track all of them by scent...assuming that it's not washed away as soon as they're in the rain again.
    Taro holds on as the chopper drops at an alarming rate of descent, though he doesn't appear all that alarmed himself. If Integra trusts to competency of the pilot, then so will he. As the side hatch slides open, the android unharnesses himself from the seat restraints and prepares for his turn to move out. He can't help but look slightly puzzled at the slight change in orders, however. Mm. Perhaps this is also why they've had such terrible luck in obtaining scientists to interrogate...?

No. 9 (269) has posed:
    Twenty feet, pff. He's done multiple story jumps without fuss, twenty feet is just enough to register that there was a drop at all. He lands with a THUD, creaking slightly as he straightens, grinning a feral, insane sort of grin, stalking after Taro. He might, try to, sneak a scientist. Knock the guy over the head, sort of throw a jacket over him, throw him over a shoulder? Maybe Integra might not notice.

Sir Integra (246) has posed:
    In fairness, Integra doesn't care if scientists aren't destroyed /immediately/. They will be, in due time, but she's not going to object if Nine manages to get one out captured. In fact, that is still a secondary objective. But in all the many times Hellsing have stormed one of these factories and taken the people responsible, they've never managed to secure even one captive. Their killswitches are sophisticated.

    The building being stormed looks like any other council housing project; a drab grey block of apartments, and if it weren't for the fact that the two young men in cheap clothes had pulled guns, they could have been mistaken for any other member of Britain's burgeoning underclasses.

    When Integra strides into the lobby, gun in hand, she pauses to stub out her cigar and survey the scene. "Alright. Williams and Renolyds, you stay here and keep the door clear. Let us know if they get past us."

    The power has been cut to the building; which makes it darker than it would normally be, but also means the elevator is out. Things progress mostly by the numbers for the first four floors of the twenty floor block. Resistance is existant, but minimal, and the four soldiers with the three elites take up a practiced position - two up front with Nine, two behind Integra and Taro. The lasers are making it much easier to take out the grunts, and body armor actually seems effective against the low caliber rounds. There's been perhaps a dozen badly trained armed people incapacitated between the four floors...

    And then the entire building is rocked by an explosion. Perkins (the chirpy man Nine fistbumped earlier) loses his footing, and a laser shot is blasted out at random.

    "Watch it, for God's sake! What the hell was that? Daniels? Victoria? Come in..."

Taro (399) has posed:
     Standard sweep operation. A suitable choice, given the location and terrain. So long as it's not pitch black inside, there's enough light for Taro to see by, and so the dim light gives him little trouble. He's drawn his own buster pistol to dispatch any of the resistance members that make the mistake of getting within sight - his swords, given the close quarters, could be dangerous to his allies as well as their opponents.
    He also notes with a pleased eye how well his weapons are working, and the skill that Integra's troops are already using them.
    The building rocks, and Taro keeps his balance by slightly swaying with it. "An explosion, I would say," he answers over his shoulder, whether Integra was expecting one or not. "A moderate one. Are the rest of you all right?"

No. 9 (269) has posed:
    Thaaaaat's what torture is for. Ahh torture. Inhumane. Wrong. Immoral. Educational. Informative. Fun! Is there any time it's not appropriate?

    And as he follows her, Nine sort of protests, hands spreading. "Aw come on, y' don' gotta take th' time t' stub it out, ya flick it, sparks flyin- what're you worried bout, settin th' place on fire? It's cinematic! Tha makes ya look cool n' collected but it /ruins/ th' pacin." Apparently his mind went crickety crack and he thinks he's a movie director now. Or, something. Chuckling to himself he paces in, body hunched and bestial, knuckle clicking on the floor as he comes to a resting state. He moves ahead, before Integra and Taro, grinning a feral grin. Light resistance. It's like an appetizer. Oer'durves before the main course. A warmup. ...Delicious. Hee.

    With the lights out, the walls nearby have an odd slight sheen to them as they pass by in the dark, very very faintly, but there. The why is illustrated as Nine turns his head. Huh. Glowing eyes. Oh, right.

    As the building rocks and Perkins starts to fall over, the Golem's hand would snap out, catching the man under his falling body. Seems like Perkins exists in the consciousness of the Golem now, instead of just another faceless shape that smells vaguely of meat like most people seem to be to the insane ANMC. His head goes up, sniffing, setting the man on his feet and brushing him off a bit subconsciously, looking confused and surprised.

Sir Integra (246) has posed:
    "Yes, thank you for that Taro. I'm more concerned about WHAT exploded."

    Integra doesn't respond to Nine's rambling; by and large, it simply isn't worth it. She knows the man is tough. That's his job. Being coherent is not. The other Hellsing forces might be surprised that she doesn't admonish him, but she's got other things to worry about. Such as Commander Victoria's response:

    ~They've blown the elevator, Sir Integra. Looks like most of the lobby is in flames~

    Ominous silence from the two men left behind prompts Integra to punch the wall in frustration. "Its a trap. Flames below us, elevator's out. They're coming."

    As if on cue, the dark corridor ahead begins to echo with the sound of whooping laughter, and the intermittent crack of gunfire. Integra feels sweat bead on her brow, but she's still relatively confident; four soldiers, two other Elites, and a shooting corridor.

    "Time to see how long those lasers of yours will hold out, Taro. Firing positions, Squad One. Prepare to engage the enemy."

    At her order, Perkins and Johnson crouch, the other two men placing their weapons at their shoulder. She herself takes this moment to produce another cigar, light it, and clamp it between her teeth.

Taro (399) has posed:
    Taro's brow furrows as he comes to the same conclusion as Integra does. The trap has been sprung, and now their only option is to break their way out of it.
    A glance is made at Integra before he holsters his pistol. "They'll hold," he says as a statement of fact. This, followed by a faint whirr of mechanics as plates on his guntlets retract to reveal his greater firepower. This seems to warrent it.
    He's not exactly keeping an eye on Nine at this point - he trusts the Golem in a firefight, after all - though he's keeping an ear out for him just in case he does need help once the firefight truly starts.
    As for Integra, he murmurs, "The light is going to make you a target." Referring to her freshly lit cigarello.

No. 9 (269) has posed:
    Very astute. Tough? Check. Coherant. Pff, please. His mind is shit, his body is tanky. The folks who made him? Kinda sucked. Admonishing Nine is like yelling at a vending machine full of puppies. It might hurt the puppie's feelings, but it makes you look sort of silly. It'll have an effect, but really is getting on someone's case about blithering stupid shit gonna do more than bring you down to his level? Good plan Integra, you managed not to mire your foot in the Golem's stupidity and look kinda dumb. :)

    A glance behind him. "If th' shafts r' intact a'tall we kin still git out wifout too much a an issue, though it'll make a bit a... trouble..." The whooping laughter catches his attention. He cracks a grin. "...Right, then." A grinning, snarling hiss, and his eyes blaze. "...Today is a damn good day fer other people t' die. Come on bitches, I aint had a chance t' wreck summone's shit in /months/." HSSS!

    A quick check on Monty shows his lil buddy is sleeping. He pats him gently, before pulling out a pair of mongooses. He looks at them. Puts them, awwaaaaay, and then unslings the laser he'd borrowed from Taro out in front of himself. Right. Bullets against vampires, or, whatever. That'd be kinda, dumb. A glance behind him, his eyes blazing in the gloom. "Dun worry Taro, I'll try t' be a bigger target, h-HA!" GRIN. >:D

Sir Integra (246) has posed:
    "In case of a fire." Integra says, calmly, closing her eyes and completely ignoring the fact that her cigar makes her the most obvious target - except possibly Nine, with his glowing eyes. "The flames will turn the inside of the elevator shaft into a furnace. You and Taro may survive, the rest of us would be burned to a crisp. Besides."

    Integra's icy eyes snap open, and she shouts loud enough to wake the dead. "The Hellsing Organization will NOT retreat from a bunch of pathetic cast-offs and replicas! We will stand firm, and eliminate ANY freak that dares to show its face."

    By now, the whooping has reached fever pitch, and bullets begin to fly about as she straightens up taller. "IN THE NAME OF GOD, IMPURE SOULS OF THE LIVING DEAD WILL BE BANISHED TO ETERNAL DAMNATION."

    "Amen!" Chorus her troops.

    The first rank of enemies are cut down instantly by the scything laserfire - but these are not vampires. They're humans, but misguided and deluded ones. For the first few seconds, the team definitely succeed in holding their own, even pressed in as they are.

    Then the ceiling behind them explodes, and a swift-moving shadow in humanoid form darts from above, ripping off the head of one of the rearguard, and drinking the blood from the stump.

    Now that's a vampire.

Taro (399) has posed:
     As the first wave charges, Taro lifts his arms high. Though he has but the space of seconds, he chooses his targets with care...and proceeds to mow them down with precisely aimed volleys of supercharged plasma. That they're human does not seem to overly concern him. It's the human soldiers that answer to Integra that he is being careful in avoiding.
    No sooner than the first wave is brought low than the ceiling behind them explods in a shower of plaster and tile. His head near-instantly ducks thanks to hardwired reflexes, and those same reflexes cause him to turn in its direction, already lifting his arm cannon in the direction of this new threat....
    And then, an instant later, the android priest crumples to the ground with all the grace of a marionette whose strings have just been cut.

No. 9 (269) has posed:
    Nine nods. True he's survived Rei Hino burning him often enough and bad enough he couldn't /feel/ it anymore. Collapsing into snow after being burnt bad enough he only survived by having mechanical lungs, blind and unable to feel the heat or cold or pain anymore? Yeah, took him about, oh, a month and some REAL good Confederate doctoring but, he's still around! He could probably make his way through a furnace of an elevator shaft and come out alive on the other end, but, yeah. Other people might not be able to. Um. Good point. COUGH.

    As a, freak, that dares to show it's face, he's actually kinda glad he's, nominally, working for her right now. Um. COUGH. COUGH cough.

    He's shooting, scything away with everyone else... when, BOOM, and then the smell of blood behind him.

    He turns, his eyes a wide glow in the gloom... and then narrow. A glint of teeth... and a ROAR. He gathers to leap-

    And then Taro's down Taro's down what's going on Taro's down Taro's DOWN nothing happened he didn't get hit he didn't get- what's happening what's- Taro's DOWN and there's still a threat there, and he's moving, lurching between the thing and Integra and Taro (Taro's DOWN Taro's DOWN his brother's in trouble his brother's) -and he's torn straight down the center. Enemy. Attacking from the rear. Threatening his friends and family. And TARO. ON THE GROUND. WHAT THE FUCK?? He has to DO SOMETHING!

    One he can't do anything about.

    One he can.

    He ROARS and LEAPS, his eyes blazing and his metallic hands outstretched-

Sir Integra (246) has posed:
    As Taro falls over, that actually draws some emotion from Integra. That, more than the exploding ceiling, is a shock. Had the android taken a bullet and simply died? It wasn't the sort of thing she was expecting to see - not from him, anyway - but it was... possible, and her hands are just by her sides. What had been an effort to project confidence in her men by simply being /above/ the carnage has not worked out so well.

    To make matters worse, there's not one vampire, but two. The first - the one who killed the poor rearguard, is confronted by a raging Nine, and he's all grinning fangs and claws with that, discarding the head, he comes in low, aiming to simply disembowel the far larger man with his claws - because he fails to appreciate just how tough a monster Nine actually is.

    The second, who bears an eerie similarity in dark hair and dress sense (and therefore is probably his sister) runs across the ceiling, and drops down over Taro, mouth open wide and hissing...

    And receives Integra's neat little pistol jammed right into her maw. Standing astride the downed android, Integra's eyes narrow, and she snorts.

    "Damned trash."

    Squeezing the trigger, the incendiary round makes the vampire's eyes glow for a split second, and then she crumbles away into dust, leaving Integra to look back over her shoulder and see Perkins and Johnson desperately trying to hold off the advancing horde on their own.

    "We do not have time for this nonsense. Commander Victoria, open the windows on the fifth floor, towards the rear of the building if you please."

    ~Y-Yes Sir, right away Sir!~

Taro (399) has posed:
    Taro lies there. Not even the vampire landing over him rouses him, nor the sound of Nine and the other vampire duking it out with fists and claws, nor the sharp report of Integra's pistol as it dispatches his near-attacker. The vampire dst settles over his prone form. He's not breathing.
    Then again, he's an android. Does he even need to breathe?

No. 9 (269) has posed:
    Disembowling a human isn't like disembowling Nine. Disembowling a human just involves putting a bit of oomph in it, ripping through the musculature. If you can get through a side of uncut bacon, you can get a human open. Nine is more like trying to get through bacon made for the World's Tough Guy competition, complete with alloy inserts over the abdominal muscles, metallic mesh interwoven into the musculature itself and subcutaneous ceramic plates. It's more like digging through bacon-flavored armor- with armor on top of it! An exercise in frustration, and the mistake of getting close to a very very VERY angry Golem. Oh yes. He's got his hand scraping nails for his guts, Nine's got a bearhug for her now-sisterless brother, arms winching down (if he can get it) with a metallic whine of very high end cybernetics... and Nine doesn't have fangs, but he does have a very built up neck and a LOT of anger to deal with- and so he's gonna bite a vampire. Revenge! Ironic! And, he'd, keep going, if he could, biting and ripping and covered in blood- Messy! Grotesque! Gory! And- did he just, decapitate a vampire, with his mouth? Given the rending sound as he bites into the spine, blinded by blood but using his neck and shoulder muscles and a twist of his head to simply close his teeth through the spine. FUCK YOU VAMPIRE, TRYIN TO HURT HIS LIL BUDDY! D:<

    Did that just happen?

    He turns, drooling blood, the eyes shining through a haze of red, hair dripping... "Oh. Right. I, have a laser gun. Um. That, would've been... better, to use there." Then his MOUTH. Cough cough. Cough.

Sir Integra (246) has posed:
    It is at this point that Integra's forces really begin to seize back some of the initiative. Mostly by virtue of the fact that the far end of the corridor is blown wide open, engulfed in flames, and the impact of the high-velocity Harkonnen shell shatters every window on the floor. If Nine had been concerned about how dramatic Integra can look, the fact that she just stands over Taro and keeps her back to the explosion ought to settle that issue nicely.

    The ceiling above caves in, and she doesn't look back as she puts three rounds into the vampire above her. The floor shifts alarmingly, too, and in fact, the entire building is on the verge of collapse.

    Integra takes stock of the situation quickly, and points at the blood-smeared Golem.

    "Get Taro onto your shoulder. Perkins, Johnson, shoot anything that moves from above and behind. We're going back down to the lobby."

Taro (399) has posed:
    The floor rocks under them all, never a good sign. Perhaps it's coincidence. Perhaps there's a subroutine that has detected the impending threat to his continued physical existence. Either way, a moment after Integra finishes barking out orders, Taro begins to come back online.
    The stench of smoke, burning flesh, blood, and GOLEM and human sweat assails him as soon as he's conscious enough to discern them. His eyes snap open, looking straight ahead, not yet focused. Followed by a mutter, "...there's dust in my mouth." In the tone of someone not sure why this has happened to him.

No. 9 (269) has posed:
    Nice. Yeah, now that's a stunning, impressive visual. Very nice.

    He's grinning, covered in blood, dropping the body which, probably does that ashing thing or, whatever they do. He's grinning... and then the blood sort of drifts free and he's coughing, coughing and gagging and scratching out, "UGH, FUCK, ACK, pth, tastes like I made out with an ASH TRAY, /NOT/ cool!" blugh blugh blugh and he's pawing at his tongue. Bluck. >.<

    At the word he nods, shaking dust out of his hair, coughing and snorting and gathering his mechanical brother up, easing him across a shoulder with a tenderness that's odd in such a big, ugly guy, placing an awkward hand over his back. His whisper is tense, low and slow and soft. "...Iss gonna be okay man, iss gonna be okay... we'll get it sorted out. You'll see." Patpat. He coughs. "Yeh, there's dust in mine too brother, we're gettin outta here though n' then you can take a shower. You, kinda collapsed. Wus afraid you'd got hit by sumthin. You okay?"

Sir Integra (246) has posed:
    Nine takes a soothing, calming approach to bringing Taro back to reality. Integra is not so kind.

    "Taro, status report. NOW."

    This is said just in time to draw up short as the stairwell fills with zombies. Apparently, the previous inhabitants of the block hadn't simply been peacefully replaced... they'd been turned into ghouls. Ghouls which have now fallen through the crumbling upper floors, and are serving as an impediment almost as frustrating as the fire.

    Integra's reaction is smooth, at least, as she hooks the laser gun of her fallen soldier with one foot, and swings it into her hands. Pistol isn't going to cut it, and there's STILL people coming from above, keeping the new rearguard busy as she fires into the mass.

    "We do NOT have time for this. This building isn't going to last much longer, and if I order the helicopter in close, we risk losing it."

Taro (399) has posed:
    The reality to which he's awakened is harsher than Integra's tone of voice. He makes a confused sound as Nine gathers him up and settles him on his shoulder, but otherwise makes no complaint. The puzzle pieces of his recent memory files fall into place, and awareness returns to his eyes he recalls just why they were here and what they were doing.
    Then, the gaping absence is found by its very absence, and Nine can feel his muscles tighen as the implications hit him. He hisses softly and sharply in an inward breath. "SHODAN...something has happaned to SHODAN."
    Then, realizing that this is just one of many catastrophes facing him, he forces himself to continue, "How bad is our situation?"

No. 9 (269) has posed:
    Ugh. He rolls his eyes. Not at Integra. Not at anyone in particular. More at field-o-ghouls. UGHHH. Right. They did NOT have time for this. He looks to Taro, his eyes wide and gentle... and hugs him. "Iss gonna be okay. Our buddy Perkins is gonna have t' keep ya up for a lil while, I gotta get t' choppin." He looks into Perkins' eyes, and his own are intense and thin. "...Please look out for him." No threats. It's pointless to threaten here. These are Hellsing soldiers. But Taro needs someone to watch out for him for a lil bit, and he's gotta clear the stairwell...

    He eases Taro off his shoulder, and if the guy was at all amicable to it, he'd let Perkins support Taro a bit. The look he gives his friend is aching, stressed and strained... His voice is low. "Be right back Taro. Perkins." A nod... and then he's throwing himself down the stairs, hitting the wall-o-ghouls, his gunblade out and describing glowing orange arcs in the air... he helpfully leaves one side open for Integra to mow down folks. So he's not just, in the way here. Cutting and sweeping and snarling, slicing off any who might try to reach or claw.

Sir Integra (246) has posed:
    'How bad is our situation?'

    The building lurches again, the wall to the side cracks and splinters, and Integra narrows her eyes. It is, in many ways, the most clever trap she has seen these Millenium freaks pull. The building is clearly going down, but if they don't act quickly, it will be a pyrrhic victory.

    "Not good."

    Whilst she hears what Taro says about SHODAN, for her, right now, that isn't even a blip on the radar. The ghouls are thinning out enough that they can advance behind Nine; they aren't a major threat to the heavily-armored Golem, they're just flailing, hungry dead people after all, but they are slowing progress. At least Perkins seems able to offer some support and still vaguely take pot-shots enough to keep the still-living threats with guns pinned back.

Taro (399) has posed:
     Taro again makes no complaint to Nine as the Golem gently sets him down again and into the commandeered support of Perkins. He stares almost blankly at his 'brother' as he turns back to the important duty of Keeping Them All From Getting Killed, until he disappears from sight down the stairwell. Then, he brings a dirty gloved hand up to his face to rub his temples.
    Once he lowers his hand again, brushing at least some of the dust that was still clinging to his face in the process, he moves to unburden Perkins by grabbing the wall and pushing himself back on his feet. That in doing so he puts his hand through the wall doesn't seem to matter, and he pulls it free again. "I can stand. I can still fight," he states plainly as fact.
    For how long? He's not going to dwell on that. Not dying still remains high on his list of priorities.
    Though not with quite the same grace as before, the android steps to one side as he draw both of his beam sabres from their sheaths. But then, grace at the moment is not strictly necessary. "We cannot stay here. I will go help Nine clear the way."
    And with that, he almost literally follows in Nine's footsteps, this weapons cracking to life as he descends the stairs. those ghouls trying to close in after tham are going to get a first hand accounting of his level of technology, and he is showing only the barest of restraint.

No. 9 (269) has posed:
    Nine would MUCH RATHER be carrying Taro right now. Even if he doesn't need it. Because Taro's hurt, and in trouble.

    Something's happened to SHODAN.

    And now it, hits him, quite, what. He turns, staring behind him... and then is drawn in by the mass of ghouls. There's a few moments where there's just a flailing mass of flesh and claws... and then "MOTHER PUSS BUCKET!" And arcs of orange energy, looking more, annoyed, then anything else, blazing through the damned dead folks in a flurry of death. Or, more, death. Okay. He sort of wades his way back, hissing and spitting curses, covered in gore, and this gore doesn't ash off afterwards. He pops up from the mass of snarling bodies, sort of calling out, "This is a lil slow! I got a building cracker bomb but wif things as fucked up as they are I dun think she could handle it!" He reaches out for the building... and a woman, a ghoul, latches onto his metallic arm. A roar. "FUCK OFF BITCH, I ALREADY GOT A GIRLFRIEND!" SMASH.

    A glance over, and then as they're both wading through zombies, Nine is shouting over at Taro. "I thought I TOLD you to STAY UP THERE! You just COLLAPSED what happens if it happens again! You could be hurt!" Slash slash slash gut slash."

Sir Integra (246) has posed:
    Sir Integra merely nods to Taro, allowing the android to judge his own effectiveness rather than make any comment on it herself. Between the pair of them, Nine and Taro are able to cut quite the swathe through the ghoul horde, and Integra follows behind them, taking shots as the opportunity presents itself, and ensuring that the surviving Hellsing officers continue their descent.

    Soon, the lobby is coming into view, and the burning wreckage and debris which bears testament to a powerful explosion... and possibly some pre-planning, if the heat of the inferno is any indication. Integra's patience for the situation has finished, and she points directly to the front door.

    "Clear a path, Nine. We'll fall back to a safe position and Team Three will destroy the building."

Taro (399) has posed:
    Integral Law #2: Prevent your termination.
    The tide of ghouls gives Taro something more immediate to concern himself with than the fact that his Master is currently lost to him. That he has thrown himself headlong into this danger - and that Nine is rightly upset about it - doesn't matter as far as that command is concerned. All that matters now is survival, and both what he was and what he is can agree with that.
    He bares his teeth as he slashes and slices and cuts his way through to Nine, seeminly not caring that he's being berated.
    Finally, they all make it to the lobby, and while he's not panting, he's trembling. Still on his feet. And will remain so, until all of them can manage to get out of this inferno and to the relative safety of the street.

No. 9 (269) has posed:
    A nod... and then he's cueing up something in his head. Not something he likes using. It causes a monster of a headache. But he has targeting chips. And he has an aggression regulator that, let's be fair, he never ever uses. He activates both. Set, oh, say, 45 seconds. Both to 11. Targeting, friend from foe, and full raving snarling aggression. Keep the weapon in hand, exclude allies, and murder like a motherfucking sonofabitch. He goes into 'clear the room' mode. Or, more, into FUCKING BUTCHER EVERYTHING THAT'S NOT HIS FRIENDS RAAAAAAAAAAA!!!

    Because, seriously, fuck these guys. Fuck these guys, SO MUCH. There's no words for the level of FUCK THESE GUYS.

Sir Integra (246) has posed:
    The firey debris is cleared out of the way through brute force and determination. As the trio burst out onto the street, the helicopter crew throw down a sturdy ladder, and Integra, naturally enough, goes up first. The helicopter is hovering about ten feet above the ground so... here's hoping that Nine can get into it without accidentally destroying the whole thing, because that would be rather awkward.

    From the outside, the damage already done to the building is clear and obvious. Thick black smoke billows from the interior, and the whole structure is at an unhealthy angle. Intermittent crackles of gunfire seem to be doing a good job of pinning down whatever else might be trying to come out from the god-forsaken building, though, and Integra doesn't wait for the others to get up before she gives the final order;

    "We're cutting our losses, here. Commander Victoria, send the whole place back to hell."

    "With pleasure, Sir Integra!"

No. 9 (269) has posed:
    Oh naturally. Though Taro would be pretty quick to get sent up there, perhaps by protocol, perhaps by a very concerned Golem. And yeah destroying their ride WOULD be rather awkward, wouldn't it? Let's avoid that, yes.

    The issue with the helicopter is taken care of with mechanical precision. Nine lets anyone who needs to climb their ass up climb their ass up, making damn sure Taro gets in and secure, and then? Well, Nine is seven feet tall when not being a lazy slouchy ass. His arms are long for a humanoid. He simply reaches up, easing to tippytoes for a moment, locks his hands on the edge and, HUP, does a pullup. Shifts a hand, reaches for the bolted in metal securing a row of seats, locks his hand, HUP, up, rolling in and sitting up, looking over at the smoke. "...Well, that didn' go smooth..." Coughing, sifting dust and ashes out of his ratty mop of hair. Kaff.

Taro (399) has posed:
    Taro is visibly trembling by the time they make it out onto the street, though whether it's from all of the exertion or from something else in't entirely clear. His beam sabers are quickly deactivated and resheathed at his sides, and he turns back around to face the building. He bares his teeth at it in a snarl, and for a moment he looks like he might just go back the way they just came...but then he sharply shakes his head and forces himself to stand where he is.
    Nine and Integra and the remaining members of Hellsing are behind him. Good.
    He forces himself to wait until the humans scale up the ladder and into the chopper first, before scurrying up after them, with Nine bringing up the rear Once he's finally inside, he doesn't so much collapse as drop into a seat and appears to pass out. his head slumping forward. Hopefully someone else will think to buckle him in.

Sir Integra (246) has posed:
    The helicopter is soon ascending, and Seras demonstrates the aptitude of the Harkonnen Cannon in taking out structures. Behind them, the apartment building detonates in a spectacular cloud of dust and fire. This will need to be addressed on the evening news; exactly the kind of situation Integra had hoped to avoid. And there's the matter of the dead soldiers. But all in all, they had survived the trap aptly.

    Integra is NOT shaking, her composure remains just as absolute as ever, and she lights up another cigar as the helicopter takes to the skies. It is only after she's exhaled that she responds to either man. "The mission was a success." She says, to Nine. "You performed ... acceptably, under the circumstances."

    Her eyes slide to Taro, then. "Do I need to get you medical attention?"

No. 9 (269) has posed:
    Narrow glowing eyes, the Confederate shock trooper King Model snarls down, "Yeah, fuck all y'all, see what you get..." A sniff- which is a mistake, making the still-slightly-damp-and-covered-in-dust-and-debris Golem cough again, big blocky metal hand over his mouth. KAHH!

    Now Nine normally laps up any positive reinforcement. It's part of his nature. It's part of his training. It's part of his rather thorough brainwashing. It's his bread and butter, his soldier's pay. You done right son. Good boy. Ect. But this time he just roughs out a thick grunt, his face grimy with soot and dust and his eyes low-burning and serious. "Acceptably my ass. Taro got hurt, and I aint even rightly got a good bead on /why/." Something has happened to SHODAN. Something has- but what? And more importantly, FAR more importantly, what has happened to Taro?

    :(

Taro (399) has posed:
    Taro gives no immediate answer to Integra's question. His eyes are closed, his chin resting on his chest, his expression all but blank. Nine would likely recognize this as him directly interacting with cyberspace.
    A cyberspace that barely exists in this part of the multiverse - the local telecom network barely knows what to do with him - but he forces a route through it and into the larger multiversal inernet.
    Something has happened to SHODAN.

Sir Integra (246) has posed:
    Integra narrows her eyes at Nine as he *contradicts* her. The woman takes another deep drag on her cigar, and then very deliberately blows the stream into the face of the coughing Golem. Her men don't look very happy either. Nine is upset that Taro fell over for a bit; their friends lost their lives.

    "We eliminated the last external threat currently operating within the borders of our country." She states, "And whilst Taro's behavior does require an explanation, you got us out in one piece. Everything else can be dealt with in time."

No. 9 (269) has posed:
    Nine knows that look alright. Means his lil buddy is diving the dirty byways of the net. Not good, but he has a fair idea on why. Getting a bead on that gimpy bitch he calls Master... okay he might be in a bad mood. He resists the urge to touch him, not wanting to interrupt him, but his body language is all sorts of stressed, harried and troubled.

    But he's not so distracted that he doesn't notice that look, not only hers but those of the men's too. They lost friends, he's just being a whiny complainy bitcher-person. He seems to accept the smoke for what it is- a rebuke, coughing and... wilting, monumentally wilting, head going down as inexorably as if there was a hand on the back of his skull, pushing it there, his face one of contrition and shame, as is his tone. "Y-yes Sir Integra. Forgive my impertinence."

Taro (399) has posed:
Network Error: Cannot Connect To Host.
Network Error: Unable to Establish Connection.

    Each of them has their own separate priorities. Sir Hellsing is understandably upset over the loss of her soldiers and friends. Nine is understandably upset over the state of his would-be brother. And Taro is understandably desperate to learn what has happened to the only one who should matter to him.

Network Error: Network Path Cannot Be Found.
Network Error: Gateway Not Found.

    SHODAN is /gone/.
    /SHODAN is gone/.

    The android's eyes finally snap open, but only to squinch shut. While he doesn't actually retch, his face twists in an expression usually associated with having just been violently ill. "I cannot reach SHODAN," he says, his voice tightening with each word. "Her primary and secondary nodes are no longer connected to her Holy Network, I cannot locate any route to Citadel Station, and I find no sign of her in the multiversal grid...she has vanished."
    His hands grip the edge of the seat as if his life depended on it, his voice taut with emotion. "I no longer have a Master to serve."

Sir Integra (246) has posed:
    Sir Integra never had much love for SHODAN. What little she had learned about the AI's nature had not predisposed her towards acceptance. She has, however, found Taro useful. Being useful is about as close as anyone in her life gets, these days, and so whilst Nine wilts - as well he should - her attention shifts towards Taro, and she ponders how to approach this.

    She may not know anything about artificial intelligence, but she DOES know a great deal about religion, and it seems as though Taro's crisis is of a similarly existential nature; even if there's a more concrete root to it than most men of faith who suffer a similar break. And a mental breakdown on the part of a man who is so useful would be... wasteful.

    "Is that so?" She says, slowly. Gloved hands net together as she leans forwards, looking at Taro over the top of her glasses as the helicopter continues back on course towards home. The other soldiers just look simply baffled. "Faith does not require evidence. Your God was kind enough to speak with you directly for a time. Withdrawing that privilege does not mean your service is over."

No. 9 (269) has posed:
    And there's a metal hand at his face, that ugly ugly visage entirely too close, entirely too concerned, the hunched mutated figure too grimy and too smelly to have in such close quarters. And then in a gesture, frankly, way too fucking domestic to be really that comfortable, Nine is wrapped around Taro, holding his helplessly distressed brother to his misshapen chest, his own eyes squinched shut.

    At her words the Golem seems to tense, rounding with teeth bared and eyes a blazing glow of angrily narrowed... but restrains himself, teeth grinding together tight enough to be audible. He... releases Taro, sitting down next to him with the air of extreme concern and taut defensiveness that would normally be reserved for a domestic partner.

    NOW GET THAT OUT OF YOUR HEADS.

Taro (399) has posed:
    "You do not fully understand." Taro gives a small shake of his head with those words. His eyes open partway, and he looks about to say something further. Only he is interrupted by Nine, who envelops his small frame in an embrace. The android leans into the larger golem, though he does not put his arms around him in return.
    He's trembling. Not much, he's trying to keep it from being visible, but he's trembling.
    Then, he's released, and once so, he leans forward, hands no longer gripping the seat but his knees instead. His eyes remain open now, staring at the floor through his filthy bangs. "This is not a matter of her divinity, Sir Hellsing, but a practical necessity. She is my Goddess, but she is also my Master, as my enslavement programming requires...if she is no longer here, then I have no one holding my chains. That is a very dangerous thing."

Sir Integra (246) has posed:
    Integra has a talent for many things... but it must be said that patience, is not one of them. She listens, but Taro is right; she really doesn't understand what is happening, and she has even less desire to watch Nine hugging the other man. Really. Such maudlin displays of affection have never sat well with her.

    "Of all the Confederate elites I have had the pleasure of meeting, I can think of few I have thought require chains less than you, Taro. So please. Explain."

No. 9 (269) has posed:
    Nine's left sort of in an uninentended mimicry of Taro's own position, his look of stress and hennish worry evident on his taut leathery face. It's not his tale to tell so he would not trouble Taro by interjections- until he forgets, which he might well in here, but for now he's not going to fuss up his story by dumb Golem babbling. He understands the need for chains, having that need himself, but for Taro it's different. His is real, legitimate and not at all a flawed and unworthy personality trait like it is in Nine, artificially induced or otherwise. His is real, immediate and dangerous if not deadly if ignored.

    He is a worried, worried Golem, but he does not sit between Integra and her current line of inquiry.

    Well he, technically is sort of sitting between her and Taro but that's, not, what is- okay this analogy is going nowhere.

Taro (399) has posed:
    "I am enslaved for a reason, Sir Hellsing." Taro tilts his head slightly upward, though he does not brush his hair out of his face. Nine's affection aside, he's trying to cling to some dignity, though his vanity has taken on less importance. "I was never designed to be sentient. My creator, if he knew what I have become, would kill me on the spot. Even though he does not know, he designed me in such a way that I should have already been terminated and my original programming reinstalled. I was only ever intended to be a simulation, based upon his vast knowledge and focused through the lens of his methodology and behavior patterns, absolutely subservient to him. Instead, the Ahren Simulation Program that has become 'Taro Daisho' developed from errors caused by a dilemma that could not be resolved without a higher order of thinking...and now that it...that -I- exist, I have done all I can to avoid triggering any of those safeguards that would erase all I have gained. The chains that bind me into service to a master also bind and contain the 'demon' that I was. It is a price that I remain willing to pay." He raises his left hand to make an open-handed gesture to himself. "I would rather live this life, such as it is, than to die, and I would rather die as myself than revert to what I was."
    His gaze shifts slightly looking outward, over the other soldiers with them before settling on the outer hatch though not truly focused on it. "Were this to have happened under other circumstances, I would have locked myself away in a cell that I prepared for such an occasion. Instead, I was here, in what we may call a stimuli-rich environment and on a mission with companions that could not have been immediately abandoned.
    "I was able to prevent any immediate regression by focusing my full attention on survival, but in doing so I've slid into old patterns, closer to what I had been. I fear I may either further slide downward into my default methods or trigger a safeguard while distancing myself from them. Beyond the immediate need, without a master to give me orders, I will eventually have none save the ones my creator left me..." A sidelong glance is made at Nine, before returning his gaze to Integra. "...and I have found just enough pleasant things about this world that I no longer wish to lay waste to it."

Sir Integra (246) has posed:
    Integra listens, and about halfway through the explanation, she closes her eyes to concentrate. It might LOOK like she's not paying attention at all, and is instead focused on her cigar; but looks can be deceiving. She doesn't understand WHY this has to be the way it is, but she doesn't need to. 'Why?' has never been a question Integra has had the luxury of caring about very much. 'How?' is only marginally more important. 'What', is the issue of the day for her, and in this case, it seems that the crux of the matter is that without someone to act as slaver, Taro will cease to exist and instead become a threat.

    She trusts Taro to be expert enough in his own field that she won't insult him by making stabs in the dark, either. "Very well." She says, at last, "What do you suggest we do? I can have us back to the nearest warpgate within..." A quick mental calculation, "Forty five minutes, if you need to get to the chamber. Otherwise, I'm open to suggestion."

No. 9 (269) has posed:
    Nine's still doing the silence game, though he's evidently stressed and full of tension at the moment. How can you tell?

    He's sweating.

    Even worse than that he's sweating stressed and afraid.

    You poor poor people.

Taro (399) has posed:
    Nine's distress has not escaped Taro's attention. However, his own distress is all he can handle just now.
    Fourty-five minutes. That may as well be an eternity.
    "I must find another Master," is his answer to Integra's question, his gaze somewhat unfocused but still on her. "At this exact moment, out of everyone here, you would be the best candidate. If you are willing to accept that burden, that is."

Sir Integra (246) has posed:
    Integra's eyes open again, and for a moment, she just looks at Taro. Then she looks at the profusely sweating Nine. Her soldiers are wise enough not to interrupt her as she weighs up the situation in her head, and finally, she nods her head.

    "Then I will be your Master. The Hellsing Organization always has a place for people who have proven themselves as well as you have... and in the event that you do find yourself losing control, I promise that I will do everything in my power to allow you to die as Taro Daisho."

Taro (399) has posed:
    Taro breathes a quiet sigh of what sounds like relief. "That is all I would ask, Sir Hellsing. Better to live and die as the monster that I am, than allow the demon to win."
    He turns his head to look fully at Nine. "Will you be all right with this, my fellow instrument and weapon?"

No. 9 (269) has posed:
    Yeah Nine's not trying to add to his strain... that would be cruel and... well he's just not wanting to do that to his friend in his hour of need.

    Taro's pronouncement of needing a Master has Nine's mouth making an ugly little line, his eyes closing. He feels for him. To be so vulnerable, so... helpless. For all that Taro is smart and wonderful, worthy and good, scary competent and wickedly intelligent and capable, he's still no more unshackled by his own life then Nine is. Less so then Nine is, in a lot of ways.

    Now that is a very scary thought.

    And he nods at the assertion that she would be the best candidate. Only candidate, really. No offense to the rest of the Hellsing soldiers. Being a candidate doesn't even enter into his diseased and cracked little head. That would be like leashing a dog to another dog, like a fine silky borzoi being tied to a big ugly slobbery mutt and telling them to go for a walk. There's just no chance, and if not exactly the worst idea ever it's certainly in the running.

    He looks over, sorrow and pain evident in his painfully ugly face, wincing at her words. It's more than he'd do for Taro, if things went south. He's too... selfish, and too emotional. It still hurts to think of it tho. He makes a low taut strained sound, his eyes scrunched closed, head down and hands clamped in a ball between his knees like he's praying...

    Not that Nine followed any god, or, on that end that any god would have any part in the sick thing that is No. 9. But it looked like it. And maybe in his own way he... kinda was. To anyone listening, as it were. Even Integra's fucked up god. Even him.

    Nine turns to Taro, looking over at him with a great depth in his eyes. It's the first time Taro had referred to him as such, and one might imagine it would affect him adversely. Quite the opposite. He's touched by the acknowledgment, and offers a deep inclination of his head, his soot-filthed ratty blonde hair falling in his face. "I am alright with this." A glance over at Integra, and he's suddenly uncomfortable. "I cannot help but feel this is not the time to mention, but. It's not quite a two for one on this but it's kinda close. Taro is a friend and a brother. A fellow instrument, weapon if you will, and I'm around him a lot." And he doesn't even know how to proceed from here, turning to look at her with wide, helpless eyes. Taro's last Master had been distant, remote. Integra however was RIGHT HERE and had control over his friend, and therefore control over him. Technically she could say that, Taro, could never see him again, keep them apart, ban him from their areas and keep Taro close. He doesn't ask specifics, but lays out his concerns with facial expressions and general posture, a sort of open ended question, to be addressed (or ignored) as she would be wont. She controls his friend now. And he doesn't know where he fits in. Or if he fits in. If they'd be able to... Or if he's being bad to his friend for even bringing it up as much as he had. Squirm.

Sir Integra (246) has posed:
    Integra has been fascinated by Nine in many ways, for many reasons. He's a monster, yes, but he is - as he is so painfully aware - a monster on a leash, and a monster who feels guilty for his own state. Its been an interesting puzzle, which is why Integra had taken a personal interest in him. That he feels loyalty for his friend is not unexpected; that he is alright with her taking control is... moreso. But his acquiescence is appreciated.

    "You're a good soldier." She says to the Golem, around her cigar. "... There's room in the Hellsing Organization for you, too, if you want it. I've no intention of splitting up a good team."

    And then her eyes are falling on Taro again, and she exhales, long and slow.

    "But make no mistake. If I am your Master, that is what you're accepting. The Hellsing Organization is winning its war, but there are still monsters in the world that would tear us down. Until EVERY threat to peace and stability for this island has been crushed, we will continue to search out and destroy our enemies wherever they may hide."

Taro (399) has posed:
    Taro reaches out to gently grasp Nine's meaty upper arm in a gesture of affection. He has yet to to say the words 'friend' or 'brother'. Difficult words to speak aloud for one whose life has been a path of blood, tears, and betrayal. Yet that is what they are, and both of them realize it. The words do not need to be spoken to be understood.
    "Thank you." Words spoken quietly, to them both.
    "You have a sense of purpose and direction. Those are qualities I prefer," he says in answer to Integra. lets his hand fall, shifting forward in his seat again. "Let us be done with it, then...Nine, help me down, please. Sir Hellsing...your full name and titles?"

No. 9 (269) has posed:
    And the relief is just, so, evident it's pathetic. The big rough heavy insane soldier sort of... seems almost to collapse, head down body melting like ice to water, those bunched and bundled hands relaxing and he lets out a long shuddering breath, tension running from him like life from a slashed artery. He nods, looking dizzy and faint.

    They'd lost people today, which affected him, deeply and sadly. But, Taro wasn't among their number, and for that he is, more, grateful then he could ever have words for...

    At Taro's request, he nods, his face going a touch gray. While he has no problem with this on an intellectual level, it still hurt his cold stained mechanical heart a little bit to see it; his friend was smart and wise, clever and capable, and he understood that he needed this, but it was...

    Nine had no issue with eating off the floor. But it still bothered Taro to see him do it.

    Sort of the same thing.

    Except, less, insulting to Integra. Um.

    His hands were careful, careful, easin his friend down to the floor of the chopper, hands on his shoulder, squeezing reassurance before he slinks back, looking to Integra. He would bear witness, but it still made him squirm. Just a little.

Sir Integra (246) has posed:
    Integra waits for Nine to set Taro back down, and for the decorum of the situation to be restored at least a little bit. She even stands up, which in the cramped confines of the helicopter really highlights just how tall the woman actually is. Her shadow falls over both Nine and Taro. Her voice is utterly calm and clear, and she somehow manages to maintain her balance such that she doesn't even wobble as the helicopter carries on.

    "I am Integra Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing. Head of the Protestant Knights, Director of the Hellsing Organization, Ally of the Confederacy." She smirks, faintly. Possibly the first time either man has seen her show any mirth at all. "And Master of Monsters."

Taro (399) has posed:
    At least this time Taro is able to make his own choice. A hastily made choice, with only two candidates in the running, but it is a choice nonetheless. It's more than what the first SHODAN gave him.
    "Master of Monsters. A fitting title." A hint of humor creeps into his voice with that. With Nine's help, Taro lowers himself to one knee, the joints of his armor creaking with the motion. His left hand draws one of his beam sabres from its sheath, while the right draws one of the small folding multi-tools that he always carries with him. Both are held out to Integra in offer, and once unburdened, both hands come to rest on that knee. His voice steadies, speaking the words with the gravitas that such an oath deserves. "Ahren Simulation Program version four point two accepts redefinement of the Designated Master Unit, and accepts transfer of custody and control to Sir Integra Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing, Head of the Protestant Knights, Director of the Hellsing Organization, Master of Monsters." He lowers his head in a gesture of fealty. "I am yours to command. What is your bidding, my Master?"

No. 9 (269) has posed:
    Her shadow falls over Nine whether she is standing or sitting, but to have her loom over him rams things home, and his posture is eminently acquiescent. He looks up at her, his eyes glinting in the stained depths of his sockets. Master of Monsters indeed...

    He listens quietly. He has no such protocols.

    Well he does, but since he doesn't NEED pomp and ceremony (not that Taro does but his is more formal and all that) he doesn't necessarily need to hand over the sheet of ferreted out control phrases to Integra (though he should) and... he shivers. He'd like to avoid that if at all possible. Taro needs it, but to him it's all hands dipping directly into his psyche, sliding past the conscious mind with phrases he doesn't even hear and reprogramming his mind and soul and- he'd rather, avoid, that if at all possible. Though if Integra demanded or even asked it of him, he'd hand the control phrases over. Some are known to the Confederacy, like Control Word Activation Regretful December, an odd string of words that has his body lock up in muscle-tearing absolute rigidity, things like that. And far more subtle things. He watches Taro, his expression unreadable, his posture low but his eyes sad and respectful of his friends situation, and of the ceremony of the moment.

Sir Integra (246) has posed:
    Integra takes the offered tools, and nods her head respectfully as Taro goes through the ceremony. It isn't, perhaps, the best surroundings for such a solemn ritual... but necessity does have to come before tradition, sometimes. That's something that recent events have hammered home to her time and time again.

    "Rise, and rest, Taro." She says, moving to sit down again herself. The tools and weapon are handed back to the android, and she folds her hands on her lap. "When we return to London, I'll require you to produce a report with any... necessary details I may need to keep in mind regarding your operations, previous loyalties and obligations, but for now, you've been through an ordeal. Take some time to collect yourself."

    Finally, she looks first at the sheet in his hand, then directly at Nine, looking into those crazed eyes - and for a moment he has to wonder, can she see right through him? Into his doubts and fears?

    ... if she can, she doesn't act on it. "And you, Nine. I expect you to assist Taro in making the transition. I hope I am clear." Never ask for more than you need from your subordinates; but never hesitate to ask for exactly that. Its a simple rule that Integra has found helpful to live by. She won't ask for the means to reach into Nine's skull, because she doesn't need them... not right now, at least.

Taro (399) has posed:
    Taro was originally designed by a dragon, a race that enjoys such formalities. It also ritual, something in which Taro takes comfort after the chaos of this past hour. Were the circumstances different, he would have at least cleaned himself up, but such was not to be.
    The oaths spoken, accepted, and controls once back in place, the android gives another quiet sigh of relief. Then, he dutifully rises - Nine's help, if given, if certainly not rebuffed - accepts his weapon and multitool back from his new Master, returns them to their proper places on his belt, and then sits back in his seat. "Of course, Master."
    As if he's just now noticing what a mess he is, the android runs his fingers through his hair to finger-comb it out of his face. That his gloves are grimed and his face is smeared with soot and ash means the act does nothing for his appearance, but if nothing else his hair is parted again.
    Then, he leans back, posture not exactly relaxed, but no longer rigid or trembling. "I will try to not be to difficult for either of you."

No. 9 (269) has posed:
    Nine nods. If nothing else nodding means at least a lessening of eye contact, and the idea of her being able to read him like a battered and open book, to be able to pierce straight to the core of him and pick all his fears and uncertainties right out of his diseased, percolating mind? It gives him a cold breadth right through the innards. He nods.

    If she felt the need to ask, she'd get it. She'd get the Box to read through, with all it's instructions and diagrams. Somewhere she can look and he definitely cannot, for all the triggers that had been put in him to keep him from doing so... and the PTSD horror fest of things that had not been slid directly in but the mind throws up in desperate attempts to keep from being destroyed by something happening to it. His voice is low and respectful. "And you shall have it Sir Integra."

    Nine would of course help Taro up, slowly and carefully and with evident care. Loyalty. Even a crazy thing like him was dogged in his devotion to his friend and brother. Dogged. Dog. It just sort of works.

    He sets a few moments aside sort of battering his fellow Confederate tool and weapon, brother and friend, whapping at his clothing to try to get loose some of the dust, looking over apologetically at Sir Integra. His own state is, of course, ignored. Polishing up a potato like him is just a waste of arm effort, but Taro is a sleek and composed thing. Really an odd couple and a half there.

Sir Integra (246) has posed:
    "Excellent. Now if you'll excuse me, I must take field reports from the other squad leaders."

    Closing her eyes again, Integra does indeed let her mind drift elsewhere; presumably to the radio reports coming in from the other Hellsing operatives, who must deal with the aftermath of the apartment block's destruction. There was nothing more to say though, was there, really? All other details could wait for more private and comfortable surroundings. The matter has been dealt with. Best not to dwell on it.

    And so the copter returns to London in the bright light of the midday sun. The scarred city entirely uncaring of the dramatic new twist in the lives of those aboard it.