"Please, let me go!" The weaker one called out. "I just want to go home! I'll give you anything. Please, I ju-"

Silence.

'Fool.' She thought. 'Begging will get you killed. For something as important as your life you must fight for it... You poor fool.'
All of the survivors knew the rules. They are our religion and our savior. You don't make friends down here; you watch, you wait, and then you strike when your enemy's back has turned. If one is to survive down here in the blackest pit of hell, one kills or one is killed.

Sera's recalled when she had to decide just how much she wanted to live.

Her eyelids felt too heavy and thick, and her head was pounding. She cracked her eyes open to find blood from a headwound clouding her vision. Seras looked down at her torn police uniform and bruised hands. She tilted her head up to survey her surroundings. She found herself bathed in torchlight and she couldn't see anything past the only source of illumination; but from what she could tell, she sat in the middle of an arena.

That's when the smell hit her; death. The sickly sweet smell of decaying flesh and dried blood. She gagged and coughed when a voice spoke up from the single, throne-like chair at on end of the circular arena.

"Beautiful, isn't it? The smell... Tell me Seras, how much do you love your life?" The voice obviously belonged to a man, and it had a chilling tone.

"I-I want to live..." She whispered.

The man stood and walked down the steps of the stone bleachers, descending further into the pit, but only enough for the light to make his features slightly visible.

Seras opened her eyes wide in shock. 'He's a preacher!' She thought. He smiled and she saw the light glint off two elongated teeth.

'He's a.. A va-'

"Vampire?" He finished her thought. "Yes," he continued, "I am a vampire, and if you live past the next twenty minutes, you may call me Father." He said with a smirk. He turned around and walked back up to his throne and sprawled out with his leg over the arm rest.

"Bring out the opponent!" He shouted joyfully. "Now Seras, it's time to see just how much you love your life, because now you're fighting to keep it!" He cackled. Somewhere behind her, a rusty gate creaked open.

Seras whipped her head around at the sound. Two men walked out dragging a boy who looked to be no older that sixteen. Seras noticed that the men were not men at all. They did not walk, but shamble along; they were gray and lifeless, and their eyes were aware but dull, and their teeth were sharper than a normal human's.

'Oh no... Does he mean he wants me to fight them?!' She thought hopelessly. 'How am I supposed to fight two vampires?'

The two corpse-like vampires dropped the boy and returned to their original spot behind the arena entrance.

Cree-ack. The rusty gate slid shut and Seras ran to the boy slumped on the ground. She cradled his head in her hands and smoothed his sandy colored hair away from his face. The boy's eyelids fluttered open at the touch. He looked frightened and he scrambled away crying out, "Where am I? Who are you?"

"My boy," The preacher called out from his throne on high, "You are in my arena. You will kill to live, or you shall be killed. It's as simple as that."

The young man's eyes widened and he searched for the voice. "What do you mean? Just let me out!" He cried out with tears slipping down his dirty face.

"And I will! I will... But you have to earn your life and your freedom. Kill the girl, Marc. Kill her and I will set you free." The preacher howled with laughter.

Seras gasped in horror. 'He captures humans to fight to the death... Just to get a sick laugh.' She thought to herself.

Marc lifted his head and looked at Seras out of the corner of his eye. 'She's small. I'm stronger than her. If this is what it takes to go home...' he thought. Seras caught the calculating look in the teen's eyes.

"Please don't... You don't have to do anything." Seras pleaded with the boy.

"I'm sorry, I truly am, but I need to get home."

Marc picked himself up off the ground and walked himself towards Seras with a cold expression. Seras felt chills on her shoulders and tension in her upper legs. She may have been crouched on the ground but she was detaching her consciousness from her logical mind as she prepared for battle.

Marc was no longer Marc, but a nameless threat. The blonde boy reached into his pocket and pulled out a small pocketknife. The knife was not in any way threatening. 'Damn. That knife may be small but it's and advantage I don't have. He's bigger and stronger than me, so what do I have to fight with?'

The other part of her brain was screaming at her, 'Who are you?! This is not me!' The will to survive was so strong that she overpowered her internal war and looked around frantically for a weapon.

Behind her was a rock slightly bigger than her hand. 'I need to get that rock without setting him off.'

Seras locked eyes with the murderous boy and slowly crawled backwards towards her only hope.

The preacher howled with laughter as he saw Seras reach around her body to get the rock. "Marc, watch out for the rock." He said nonchalantly, knowing full well that Seras was depending on surprise to defeat her enemy.

Marc's eyes moved to the rock and he howled with rage as he lunged for Seras with his knife in his right hand as he held it high over his head. Seras saw him hesitate and she noted the look of uncertainty in the young man's eyes. He blinked and started to bring the knife down over his head in an arc and end the fight.

Seras had taken advantage of the moment of weakness and grasped the rock firmly in her right hand. As Marc brought the knife down she pushed herself forward and swung the rock around and struck the boy in the temple. His arm lost it's momentum and he sunk to his knees and fell completely limp on the sandy, blood soaked ground.

Seras sat in horror as she stared at the consequences of her actions.

"Kah kah kah," the preacher laughed, "Seras, you're not finished yet. You have to kill him." He said, completely enjoying the show. He hadn't seen two newcomers fight like that in awhile. Sure the fight was short, but it was very entertaining.

Seras still grasped the rock tightly as she crawled over to Marc's unconscious boys and flipped him onto his back. Seras cringed at the wound. Marc wasn't dead, no the wound wasn't enough to kill him, just unconscious.

"Heh heh heh," the preacher laughed out. He truly loved to watch people lose their humanity. "This will be the easiest part, Seras." He cood.

Seras looked up at the preacher, "Preacher I won't kill him, I've already defeated him. I can't take is life." She said with fake confidence.

"Please, Seras," the demonic preacher said in a sickly sweet tone, "You can call me Father now." Seras glanced down at Marc. He couldn't defend himself anymore, it wouldn't be right to attack him while he was out cold. Seras glared at Father with a strengthening resolve.

Father noticed the defiance and his expression grew cold. "You will kill him, Seras," he said with a malicious tone, "Or I will kill you."

Seras looked at Father in fear and quickly glanced at the unconscious boy. Seras caught a flash of light in the corner of her eye. It was the light glinting off of Father's fangs. 'Well he wouldn't feel anything. It's him or me, and he tried to kill me...' She reasoned.

With this new rationale Seras firmly gripped the rock and slammed it into Marc's head. Blood spattered on Seras's face and clothes. A sickening crunch was heard when earth met bone and the skull gave way. Blood flowed freely and spurted around as Seras kept pounding the bloodied rock further into the gray mass of brain.

Chunks of brain and tissue covered Seras in an immoral coat of victory. She had lost herself to the beast inside, and Seras's kind nature was locked away screaming, "Monster! You're a monster!"

"Hah hah hah hah!" Father cackled, holding his sides as he shook with laughter. "Seras," he said when he had calmed enough to speak through the giggles, "You were amazing! Most people cry when they kill for the first time, but not you eh?"

Seras looked up at Father with an empty expression, for she was empty. She did what needed done and her instincts wouldn't let her feel remorseful.

"Father," Seras said firmly, "What do I do now?"

Father looked at Seras with glee. She would be his favorite fighter, he decided.

"Seras, I will show you where you will live. Weaker fighters will sleep in cages; the stronger fighters will sleep in cells with cots. You will be fed according to your performances."

"Seras," Father took on a serious tone and jumped to the arena floor. Seras cringed. "I honestly thought you would the one to die, but I think you will prove to be far better entertainment."

Seras growled at Father and he clapped his hands, "Ah wonderful! So much spirit! You'll need it. The fight doesn't end when your opponent is dead, Seras. Come. I'll show you to your cell." He said as he turned to open the large rusty iron gate. Seras followed Father into the dark where she could hear crying and pitiful moans coming from the other entertainment.

Well this is my first Hellsing fanfic and I've had this idea for this story for awhile so tell me what you think! I live off of reviews and constructive criticism is appreciated, but if you think it's terrible then don't read it. :)

I'm going to try to be a little more faithful about updating on this fanfic so stick around if you like it :3 bai!