Rain pelted the windows of the sitting room, affording a kind of white noise as too blue eyes scanned the paper in his hands. It was a delicate thing, parchment meant to be easily disposable. The words written on it were few, but they still stirred the contents of his stomach unpleasantly.
“Don’t forget our arrangement.”
The words were in German, but Walter understood them perfectly. Following listed a time and a place. Clearly, he was meant to meet someone there. Despite his new position in Hellsing, it wouldn’t be odd to Arthur that a young, university bound man like Walter would leave for the evening. In fact, he might even celebrate himself that Walter was leaving the Manor for once.
But did Walter want to go?
That fateful night was almost 5 years ago, now. Until recently, he’d almost forgotten the dreadful event. He very much liked to think he matured far beyond those days, when recklessness and survivors instinct was what ruled him. At nineteen, he was a man now, after all. However, by the end of the brief letter, the last few words struck him.
“You will become obsolete. It is inevitable.”
Obsolete. The same phrase that disgusting Nazi had used to describe his predicament all those years ago. At 14, the idea of being useless to his employer and guardian was a terrifying thought. With such merit under his belt, what would people say about him after he fell? The Angel of Death, simply a one hit wonder, a useless moniker once the Vampire Alucard was fully weaponized. The Doctor, if he could be called that, insisted that progress was too slow for humans. That a creature like Alucard would always surpass him, in every way, until the day he died. He would be the Angel that fell to ruins, nothing once once that demonic abomination took his place. Nothing to the world.
What he offered that day was priceless to a scared teen.
How long passed as he looked over the paper, he did not know, but the grandfather clock chimed 8 times and he was snapped out of his observation. The rain still poured down, but stiffly, he stood and made his way to the fireplace where the letter was thrown unceremoniously.
“Don’t be out long, Walter.” Chided a grinning, drunk Arthur when Walter had left the sitting room and came to his office. “On second thought, stay out late, especially if you find company.” Walter contained his need to roll his eyes and nodded, smiling politely.
“Of course, Sir Hellsing.”
He brought a coat, an umbrella, but being rained on was inevitable, too.
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