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A Hellsing / The Shadow crossover story
by Elsa Bibat

Disclaimer: Hellsing was created by Hirano Kouta, and is copyrighted by Gonzo/Pioneer LDC. The Shadow was created by Walter Gibson; its characters are copyrighted by Conde Nast Publications. Doc Savage was created by Lester Dent (a.k.a Kenneth Robeson), Conde Nast Publications, and Bantam Books.


Chapter 2: Tourists


"Scheisse!"

Blue eyes and a diamondine smile gave him a look of questioning condescension or condescending question. No matter. He hated that look. Flicking the cellphone closed with a practiced move, he slipped it back into his tailored jacket.

"Someone interfered. Don't say 'I told you so'."

"I will not say it. Merely smile and let you think I said it."

I told you so.

"Will you not do that?"

"What?" Innocence in the angelic face of a demon.

He sighed a long-suffering sigh. Suffering was long… endless, if one were immortal.

"Did you really have to try and kill her?"

"Unlike in the real world, a weak link can become the strongest if left to itself. Alucard's fledgeling is getting strong. Plus—"

"Plus the fact that Helsing's experimental bloodline has a new receptacle if ever the main carrier is destroyed or subverted. I know, I know. I am familiar with the entire song and dance. By the way, they know we're here."

He arched an eyebrow. "Who are 'they'?"

"They, of course."

"Oh, ja. Be more vague, bitte."

"Who else can 'they' be?"

"There are a lot of 'theys' out there. Diogenes. MI-5. E-Branch. Hellsing. The Pakistanis. The Freemasons. The Vatican. Who?"

"Mother called."

"WHAT?!"

"She knows we're here. She's sending Schrödinger."

"Schrödinger!!"

"Ja. Schrödinger."

"Schrödinger." Calm. Reflection.

Silence.

"Schrödinger. Are you sure?" His question was tinged with calculation.

"I am dead, not deaf."

"Ja, ja. Schrödinger." He steepled his hands as he stared into the dark. "Schrödinger."

***

"Schrödinger. Wilhelmina Schrödinger. Right?" Talmadge looked up from the passport as he looked at the person waiting patiently for her papers.

Green eyes twinkled behind a pair of glasses. Brushing a stray lock of golden hair from her face, she nodded with a smile.

Whoa, those are sharp.

"Ja. That is me." The faint lilt of an accent lent her voice an alluring tinge of the exotic. German was his guess. Looking down again, he blinked in surprise.

Argentina. Must be one of those immigrant things.

He smiled and returned his gaze at the statuesque blonde before him. Good posture enhanced the woman's inherent beauty and he could notice well-muscled thighs peeking out from under her mini-skirt.

"Business or pleasure?"

"Business." That smile again. Reminded him of a cat, strangely enough. He stamped the passport and passed it to her. Her hand brushed his for a moment and he felt a sensual tingle come up from his fingers, to his wrist, to his arms, right up to the back of his brain. His hair stood on end for some strange reason.

"Danke schön." She looked into his eyes and he stuttered a response.

"Y-you're w-welcome, ma'am." For a moment, he was inexplicably frightened of her. Damn. There you go again, Bobby old boy, stuttering in front of beautiful women.

As the woman sashayed away, out of Heathrow, Talmadge turned to his co-worker, Trowbridge.

"That was one sexy cat, right, chap?" Talmadge laughed at his joke.

"Huh?" Trowbridge was obviously lost.

"Cat! Schrödinger! Cat! Get it?"

"Uh… no."

Talmadge rolled his eyes upwards. People here were such idiots. A simple joke on quantum mechanics and they were lost.

I hate my job.

 

To be continued.

Chapter 3
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