It was another day in the Hellsing household.

I, Sir Integra Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing had recently sent the guard dog on a lead to Brazil. Aside from my butler and a few new recruits, the mansion was empty.

Alucard was always a terribly difficult creature to deal with. Though the agreements under my family name bound him to the household he was one with a terrible knack for, let's say breaking the rules. I could almost hear his voice taunting me now, "Oh what are you gunna do, grab that guy who can stop me? Michael McDoesntexist."

In light of his recent departure it seemed dearly appropriate to search his room for any leverage I may weigh in on in the future. His room was trashed, to put it lightly. Walking about the place was like shifting through a maze. Sweet Tarts littered the floor along with boxes upon boxes of other unconsumed goods. This was but one of the problems I had yet to properly deal with.

"But you're a vampire, what could you possibly want with 600 bags of Sweet Tarts!" I had said. The vampire proceeded to flick one of the small candies between his fingers and smacking it straight into my forehead. An audible "smack" could be heard from the inhuman strength he had put into the puck shaped snack.

"HaHaHaHaHa" the vampiric asshole laughed.

"I will have none of this nonsense! I did not come here to be chaffed with!" I yelled.

"Oh my God! You should have seen you're face!" Alucard laughed. "There's such a bright mark right where it hit!" I left the room without a word. I had learned better than to try approaching him in his room that day. Perhaps he just needed his space. Though I could not help but hear the vampire continue on his jest as I walked away, "Hey Policegirl get over here!" he said. The poor girl.

So here I was in a desperate attempt to find anything I could use to gain leverage upon the bastard. After shuffling through endless CD's, Porn magazines, and a copy of "Boondock Saint's" I finally found something of interest. It was a small book with black leather binding, lacking in any sort of title or cover apart from a strange design. I opened the first page and read:

I went to fill up the gas in my car, and I left it running because "fuck da rules I'm immortal", and this red head shit wanted me to give him money so I could take the gas off his hands. Like I'm doing you a service! Why should I pay to take your shit?! Needless to say his blood now gets me an extra 20 miles per gallon!

How curious, could it be that the man in red had been keeping a diary this whole time? The notes weren't dated but the pages continued:

Well, it all started at the orphanage. Lady Sally wouldn't give me the cookie I rightfully deserved for breaking the record for most concussions given in a single recess. It was then that I grew my taste for human flesh. She wouldn't let go of the cookie, so I was forced to eat her hand. It was better than the cookie. Nice and warm, with slightly sour blood oozing from the fingers. The kids slowly pulled their hands behind their backs

This man was truly a plight upon the world, though the contents of this diary were of an interest to myself. I pocketed the book and ran upstairs to continue reading.

To be continued…