Chapter Text
Prelude
She had been writing to him for years. Short little notes describing ammunition size and components, all typed in approved font and stamped by the Hellsing Munitions Board. She had no illusions that her notes were being read.
*Best care scenario, he probably tosses them straight to the rubbish.* she thought as she absently bit the end of her pen.
*Worse case, do the undead use the bathroom?*
But this time, the note wasn’t a note. It was a letter of the utmost importance and it would probably cost her, at the very least her job, even possibly her liberty. But price was worth paying if it meant doing the right thing.
She balled up the draft copy and threw it into the fire where it was consumed in a brittle flare of heat. Pulling out her formal stationary, she uncapped her pen and began to write:
"Dear Hellsing Operative,
Since no one has seen fit to grace me with your true name, I trust the above salutation will suffice. From the delivery method, I'm sure you can gather that I shouldn't be doing this, but I cannot remain silent any longer."
She wrote for nearly twenty minutes, finishing with her signature. Leaning back in her chair, she once again thought of how she was going to smuggle the letter in. The lining of the wooden gun box was a safe bet - but her fear was that the box would meet the same fate as her notes. And her warning would go unheard.
"Oh bugger it!" she exclaimed out loud.
Rummaging around her desk, she finally came up with a compass with a point that looked less than sanitary. Grimacing, she jabbed it at a random finger and then held same finger over the bottom of her page. She squeezed a little, to make sure that there were several crimson splodges on the paper and then stuck her wounded digit in her mouth.
*If that doesn't get his attention* she thought, *he deserves to get his head chopped off.*