#wolfe antics

[wolfe-of-iscariot]

Hitchhiker

The radio playing was a dull cacophony in the background of her thoughts. She tapped her fingers along the steering wheel, rung her gloved hands against it, and adjusted herself in her seat time and time again. She had been driving for perhaps ten hours straight, with ignorance to the fact she stopped once or twice in that time to fill the tank of gas and stick a container in the back of the maroon truck that had seen much better days all ready. The rain and poor weather she had endured for almost every last minute of those hours was trying on her recently very expendable patience. It was not that she disliked the weather – that was not the case at all, she much preferred clustered skies over clear sun. It was the fact she had to squint and keep the windshield wipers almost at high in order to just see the road; headlights put on high as well only at the fact no cars traveled in her direction as far as she could very well see. Aside from the blotted out sky, the day had long gone and passed, condemning her to drive in the blinding darkness without company and with bleary vision from an inappropriate lack of sleep that the coffee near her thigh in its own little cup seat warded away enough. So well did it ward that sleepiness, it caused most of the writhing and shifting in her seat that was not just due to discomfort alone but rather a good rush of caffeine. Heinkel wanted to pull over and sleep where she sat. Unfortunately, she had somewhere to be, and was on a tight leash of depended responsibility and things that other people wanted done that she was stuck doing. The thought of what needed to be done and what was expected when she arrived where she was getting to never quelled her migraine. American roads were vexing and not something she was familiar with, making her heavily rely on the map that rested in the passenger seat beside her. There were even a couple embarrassing moments she had tried driving on the opposite side of the road. The rain had gotten to the point where it became more of a clamor and uproar than the radio itself, and she did not bother trying to turn it up. Her brows stayed furrowed, her eyes remained narrowed with her usual shades hung on a chain with a hollow bullet at the end around the rear view mirror at the center of the dash, and she hunched forward against the wheel. The area around there was local oak forest with very few little establishments in between each area. At any establishment she passed in several miles, there only seemed to be a minimum of one or two cars at any location. It came as a smarting surprise when she slowed around a corner to avoid hydroplane-ing through a torrent of water, and spotted a figure of a person on the side of the road. If the German woman had not been very assured of her own ability to handle a possible threat, she would have kept driving. But as she had a hard enough time maneuvering the storm protected with a roof over her head, she could only imagine the peril of the person on the side of the road. She could not tell if they were hitch-hiking or not, but she pulled to the side anyway, moving her map and other items from the passenger seat into the glove compartment, rolling down the window as she slowed to approach them. It was not her car; she would care less if the whole seat was soaked.

[wolfe-of-iscariot]

Feather

Heinkel had made a throaty noise of doubt, brief and intended for herself more than anything. If Yumiko did not know, she immediately considered dropping and discarding a subject like that. Getting information from Yumie could sometimes be more tasking and infuriating than she really wanted it to be, as amusing as plays on words and snarky comments could sometimes be. Though curiosity burned her as sharply as the ancient wound she had discovered, there was only a certain degree of effort Wolfe was willing to put forth in order to obtain that information so diminutive and irrelevant it was a flickering detail in the life of the beloved nun she had overlooked for years. As many stories as her own scars had, she forgot the origins of many of them as similar stories collided with similar stories. Her father did this, the neighbor’s dog did that, a vampire had done this there, and another vampire had gotten her beside this. The stories ran in a herd of look-alikes that few stood different and identifiable out of. How she remembered the details on the other’s body more than she did her own would forever escape her. Perhaps because some of those stories were ones of memory she wanted to hold on to, not suppress with passive aggression to historic events she curled a lip at. For some reason, Heinkel thought she hurt the other with the sound she had been given. How was beyond her. She touched her with a gentleness she never imagined possible. Her brows had raised, astonished eyes free to view from the usual constraints of her deeply dark shades that hung on a pocket inside of her duster as Yumiko searched her palm feverishly, as if the context of the lines of her skin would provide the seeking woman with the answers to the vast cosmos they both spent an unnatural amount of time staring out towards. The answers to questions they both whispered to one another in young wonder and answered in skepticism just for the sake of having the questions answered back because one another’s answers satisfied the other. Whatever answer her palm had for the nun was unsatisfying, and Heinkel pulled her hand back, disturbed. She wanted to coax the other to stop fussing. Instead, she forced her questioning gaze down upon the ravenette, before humming short with question she pushed away as thoroughly as her urge to prompt Yumie about the burn – which was to say, not so thoroughly at all. She turned towards the doorway, peering out into the hall. “You haf chores to complete, and ze usual morning routine. Aftervards I can tell you vhat ve are going to do. Eet does not involve staying here bored out of our minds, or sticking salt in Enrico’s coffee level disturbances. Your revard for getting zhings done ist me telling you and taking you. I vill leave vithout you.” Glancing back, her lips quirked into a smile at the nun.

[wolfe-of-iscariot]

Coil

She leaned against a wooden post, leisurely smoking far from the general vicinity of the orphanage, as she had been told to do in order to avoid harming the children and people inside with her so called “cancer stick” as one of the nuns inside had put it. She did not bat an eye at anyone who strayed near the area unless they looked particularly dangerous and sharpened her suspicion. It was expected that the unfortunate would come and go to the shelter, especially with the coming storm that boasted thick dark clouds she rested pleased eyes on. Heinkel adored the low pressured atmosphere it brought. It cleared her head and seemed to push off a burden from her shoulders, washing the land with graced calmness she appreciated far more than many. Wolfe would often receive odd looks, preferring to stand under an overhang and watch the rain bounce off of the land it splattered against as opposed to hiding away from it all inside. But it was something that she had been accustomed to since her earliest days. Her head rested back against the post, and she played with the lid of a lighter in her hand, propping it open and closed. Her thoughts buzzed inspirationally about what she could be doing if she were not lingering in the area she was expected to help with children who shied away from her in fear or stared on with relentless curiosity. Children who she was bad at interacting with aside from those who had known her for a good amount of time, enough to realize she was not going to hurt them. Apparently her appearance suggested she was a danger to them, and she would not doubt it. Sometimes her strength got away from her when she tried to be gentle. She wanted to just leave, let the task alone to someone else, and still her stare lingered out on the relatively empty streets. A lone person walking in the direction held her attention.

[wolfe-of-iscariot]

She was surprised how long it took her to recognize him. The length of time was, in fact, not even lengthy in outer perspective. It took her seconds of recollection, spotting the ashen strands and burning eyes that haunted her regrets and frustration since that event. The slight prickling of wariness drew into a triumphant hatred that could have stood to boil the downpour around her. A dismal, curious expression had pulled into a seething but silent snarl through the drenched bandages along her face. She hoped, in the prominent recesses of her recollections, that the brute had been expired in the most undesirable manner during the war. As fate would have it he shared the air of the downpour with her. She stood there in hatred heavier than the weight of the air, eyes narrowed into an exclusive focus that stood trained on the lone Captain. In pure ignorance to her strict orders against engaging combat, she approached the male a few short feet and drew out a sleek black weapon with an extended stock. Clicking something on the side, blue electricity bolted at the tip of the gun similar but heavier than those she had dual wielded decades ago. Any part of her expression gave away the intent of malice. While she had initially stopped, her intent on approaching him had been quick but brief, and Heinkel stood a fair distance away, arm extended with the weapon pointed. Doing so fared to be more important than her orders, which seemed to be an extreme calamity for her mentality and her once-calm demeanor. “You are supposed to be dead.”

[wolfe-of-iscariot]

The other just had to press it farther. As if she had not given herself enough mental admonish, Heinkel grimaced slightly at the mere mention. It was let go, and pressed away however. She went as far as to avoid that almost taunting study, the horizon her prime and drawling focus that she lost interest in shortly with the confirmation of the arriving storm and the atmosphere it dragged through the slopes of the mountains. Anything had become a grapple hook for her attention, even the pebble that had been booted the unnatural distance, which she felt a bit dumb for pondering the childlike behaviour of the other none too threatening at all. She perked when she received an answer she actually did not expect to receive. When the prompt left her lips, the Iscariot felt it more rhetorical than anything. Once more, the ending phrase lifted her stare on the far away mineral to morph vexed and owl-eyed on the Draculina. She kept searching for that sarcasm she wanted to show through in the tone. Frustration came as a result of being unable to source any out. To suggest she do the same would hint towards the act of concern, and she cringed under the revolting propose of that. Wolfe had been offered to accompany the woman. Why? Any reason was beyond her coherence, whatever reason that could be provided she would proclaim nonsensical anyhow. Things did not work out that way between beasts and weapons such as themselves. Her lips tugged into a frown, and her owl-stare diminished into a weary bitterness of mistrust. A bloody idiot was exactly what crossed her mind. She knew as well as the other forces of weather were an extremity not meant to be trifled with on terms of rivalry; but the prospect of following the other into the vast mountain ranges did not suit her at all. She wanted to retrain the dignity of declining. There was little dignity in stupidity, however. While it took her baring her teeth to part her lips for an answer, she accepted with less abrasiveness as before, slumping her way in the direction the other blonde had been moving in the first place. “Get moving zhen. I am not getting caught out in ze middle of a storm vithout shelter on your behalf.”

[wolfe-of-iscariot]

Excursion

Makube was passionately patient.  While it was not unnerving, she found it distasteful, for what could be left of her mouth.  While planning their next crusade in centuries’ time was a wise and respectable, it was something she had little patience for. When she looked into the eyes of Seras Victoria from across the room, she saw hair-raisingly intense images of different ways she could stick the metal of a blade through her, or pierce her with high caliber rounds, or break bone with her own strength gained (through a quite agonizing process) that surpassed that of even the superhuman strength she harnessed before. She thought of how it would feel, the expression of pain on the beast’s face, and she thought of this until her name was mentioned, and her eyes snapped away from the Draculina to her commander, nodding at the comment he had made and referred to her of, though she had little idea of what he had truly said. Disturbed by her own lack of attention, she quelled the greedy thoughts after settling one last haughty, belittling stare at the woman who stood so daring and defensive beside Miss Hellsing herself. “ – and they may be gone in no more of a week’s time. This settlement between us may surely be favourable, as no harm will come to your vampire, and no harm will come to our Regenerator.” Was that another one of her titles now? To the giving stare of you will agree to this that she was given by Makube in his process of settling terms with Hellsing, she reflected one of apprehension, until it hit her just what he was talking about. Spare pieces of what she picked up in the midst of her concerning thoughts came to her. Clearly, she had no say in the matter other than comprehension, because as soon as she propped her jaw open to response, Makube continued. “Then it’s settled. Your vampire accompanies her on this… excursion, and we will supply you with the small sum of mobile vehicles you request. Helicopters, engine parts – .”  She could not hear the rest in her realization. When Makube mentioned getting her aid for her assignment, she very well guessed it would be other members of the Vatican. Anyone but the Draculina. It suddenly became much more clear why they arranged the meeting in the first place. From her initial will to protest, she found herself just gaping at the monstrous woman at the other end of the room. She figured Makube to have proved clever. Did he really expect such a partnership would turn out remotely decent?

[wolfe-of-iscariot]

Boarders

If she had it her way, she would have been past the boarders of Nebraska hours ago. She was smart enough not to sleep somewhere too obvious, but as her luck would have it she was discovered mid-slumber in a land that was supposedly devoid of military and hunter attention alike. She had more contact with hunters in that “devoid” land than the infected and military in the square range of the decrepit city. Instead of making a smooth trip to the boarder, she was forced to dodge and weave through the confines of that city jungle in her best effort to make it into the wilderness and set a different path for herself, labored with the delirium of being forced to wake up in the panic of a bullet whizzing past her head and men making the awful racket. They behaved like she was big game, and ducking around to avoid them, Wolfe felt like it. Had she felt confident about the amount of ammo she had versus the number the hunters traveled in, she might have chosen a shootout, for her ability to make her bullets count was not to be trifled with.

Her desperate path ended when she rounded a tipped, sunken building seeping in a massive amount of water that looked like it spilled out from a pipe the fallen building collided with long ago. The water looked too deep to wade in, and she was by no means a confident swimmer, especially under the pressure of being to hear their footsteps with how close they were trailing her, for the hunters seemed to have spread out in the area to pursue. It made little sense why they would try so hard to track her down – or, at least, she tried not to think about the reasons that did make sense for it.

“Where the hell did she go?”

Had they lost track of her already? She bounded back up the slope she had come down, and jumped a broken window ledge elevated at an odd angle, as it was part of the building that sunk into the water below the sloped ground. It was favourable that they were further behind than she thought, for hardly moments after she had hidden in the rotting building did they pursue past the window, and down to where she had been before. Without missing a beat, she dodged right back out the window, and sprinted into the main street, around another block, until she forced open the doors to a local mall, which ended up being an effective savior with its dark interior. Heart pounding and adrenaline rushing, she pressed her back to a vending machine and listened to the incoherent shouting of the men in the distance, who seemed to finally lose her trail. With an exhale, she practically melted to the ground.

[wolfe-of-iscariot]

Rain

Following her all day was hands-down the most tedious assignment she had been given, with exception to the past week she had been forbidden from engaging with the enemy in their own territory along the eastern boarder of Zaire. It seemed the entirety of the past month’s assignments grated her nerves and pulled her trigger finger. Several times over she was sure she had been seen, because Hellsing’s tasks seemed so monotonous it was almost as if the woman was playing off her actual plans for the day in order to mess with the Iscariot and feed her false information to cart back to Enrico. Especially since, as far as Heinkel was concerned, she did not see the woman accompanied by anyone, which seemed strange enough. She stood outside, leaning against a metal post discreetly jotting down observations about whatever Integra had been buying – some high grad of coffee from the little corner shop crammed in between two much, much larger scaled buildings farther back from the street. With the downpour that had started above, she almost seemed more out of place with the array of umbrellas around her and the occasional rushed business man looming a newspaper over his head near the bus stop. She felt it would have been nice to wander her way over towards the bus stop, and linger underneath its overhang; however that only seemed like it would put her even more out of place. In her effort to seek out an area she could occupy that would help shield the increasing downpour, she realized she had lost track of Integra. The gun-slinger was immediately away from the post, and making her way past angry drivers trying to press on through the street crowded with ignorant jay-walkers trying to escape the sudden rain. For a woman who took her time leisurely strolling the street, the calculating assassin had lost track of her very quickly, and at first scanned the coffee shop itself before starting at a jog into a more open area, risking considerably just to spot her target.