Before a Fall

Memo

To: Sir Integral Hellsing
Re: Translations

My Lady,

I trust that these translations find you well. I apologise that I am as yet unable to make personal delivery of the files. It is my expectation that with more time to acclimate, it will be possible for me to resume my duties. In the interim, it is my honour to perform this minor service for Hellsing.

I have separated the technical notes from the more personal entries and provided them chronologically in three separate formats – personal, scientific, and the full version in which both technical and personal entries are mixed.

The insight into the workings of the Doctor’s mind is interesting and I find some of his entries quite ironic. I do hope you will forgive me for occasional editorial comments in the course of the translation, I found myself unable to resist.

Yours faithfully,
Walter C. Dornez

__________________________________________

15 June 1942

Meeting tomorrow morning with Major Montana Max. He sent a note by courier that he had heard of my work and wanted to speak to me about furthering it.

I’ll believe it when I see it. Those fools never appreciate my genius.


16 June 1942

Oh he did it! He really did it! Max says that he can give me exactly what I require – funding, equipment, privacy and best of all, a real one to study. A real one! I cannot believe it.

I will tear his intestines out and use them to tie tomato vines to stakes in my garden if he’s lying. [Ed. Note: If only he’d been lying.]


20 June 1942

Things move fast when Max is motivating them. It is spectacular. A week ago I was scoffed at for my research and ideas. This week the Führer himself is signing requisitions for anything and everything I need. In three days I leave for Poland.


25 June 1942

Poland is unpleasant. The language grates on my ears, the staff are surly, and the smells are loathsome. Why did the facility have to be located downwind from the work camps?

It matters not, I guess. I have my work and the prospect of success smells sweeter than any rose.

Tomorrow, Max tells me, there is a surprise arriving for me. If it is what I hope it is, I will name a virus after the dear man.


26 June 1942

I am in ecstasy. I now have in my hands the final ingredient to give humankind the greatest gift since Prometheus stole fire from the gods. I will be the firebringer and I will live forever, not just in minds and memories, but in reality. [Ed. Note: Being chained to a rock having his liver eaten out by an eagle for all of eternity sounds like an apt punishment. I can only hope that God has a lyrical sense of justice.]

She will give me what I want. I will take from her the secret of her immortality and I will synthesize it into a gift that will be given to those who are worthy.

I asked Max how She came into his hands, but he would not answer. He told me that it was enough that I had Her, and he’s right, it’s just my curiosity, my insatiable need to know that made me ask.

I sit here now and stare at Her. I would begin my work right now, but I must gather my thoughts, plan my methods, train my assistants. This is no mere chemistry or biology or physiology, this is magic wielded heretofore only by God himself. It will not come easily, but it will be mine.


3 August 1942

I had to kill my assistant today. I am quite angry about this. It will take me time I cannot afford to train another. I will use this one’s death as an example to the next.

I cannot believe that he tried to make a change to my procedures. That he even asked!

I am afraid I did not think quite quickly enough before shooting him. I was so enraged. If it happens again, I will use him as a test subject instead of shooting. That was wasteful and now I’m quite annoyed with him for making me do that.


7 August 1942

Apparently Max heard about my trifling problem with my assistant. He sent his man, Captain Hans Günsche to speak with me.

Well, not really speak.

He sort of loomed at me for several minutes before handing me a note from Max. Apparently Günsche is not the talkative sort. [Ed. Note: I see that some things are constants.]

He did tell me his name when I asked, so clearly he can speak, he just chooses not to. It is refreshing, really.

But the note. Max reminded me that there is a war on and there is a shortage of trained men. He mentioned that I am not the only scientist working on special projects for the Reich, even if mine is by far the most important.

What can I say? I will try to teach my assistants not to do stupid things like that, but human stupidity is boundless.


22 November 1942

Things are not moving as swiftly as I might hope, but I have isolated some unique aspects of Her cellular makeup which I find quite promising. She is looking a bit worse for wear, but that is to be expected when I am having to take skin samples on such a regular basis and cannot afford to allow Her to animate in order to regenerate.

As much as I wish to study Her while She is conscious, that is far too dangerous.


12 April 1942

Tomorrow will be our first human test. I cannot sleep, which is why I am up writing in this book instead of preparing myself for what will be a momentous day in post-human history.

I do not expect the man to survive, but that is perfectly acceptable. This is not about immediate success, it is about data collection and I shall learn so much from what happens.


13 April 1942

That was educational. A bit messy, but that is to be expected. You cannot have great science without sacrifice. Look at me. I sacrifice my sleep almost every night in the name of science.

Subject 1A only suffered for the better part of three hours before dissolving completely. It was remarkable. Not even bone was left, just a gooey puddle of protoplasm.


2 September 1943

I had an inspiration which came from the most unlikely place. I have a cold sore that has been bothering me for days. I could not help but think about the origin and transmission of such irritations. I am beginning study of viruses as a vector for transmission of Her genetic material. I may have found the way in! [Ed. Note: Doc had herpes. Perhaps God does have the lyrical sense of justice I had hoped for.]


31 December 1943

I have been reading the work of an American (feh, yes, I know) [Ed. Note: “Feh” was the closest I could convey the guttural but meaningful word from the German.] Francis Peyton Rous. His “retroviruses” may be exactly what I need. I have what he does not – no “ethical” oversight and an almost limitless budget. I will find a human retrovirus. Soemthing in me just knows that this is how I will create a vampire of the bloodline of She, the first. There will be no comparison.

I lie awake some nights and think about how creating an army of vampires like Her will put me on par with God, who created Her to begin with only to have Her defy Him.


3 April 1944

Tomorrow, another trial. I am using my new viral carrier. It’s not elegant, but I think the work is good enough for me to make excellent observations. I’m still looking for the human retrovirus. I will find it. I am commissioning better equipment. I have had to design it myself, because nobody else’s work was up to my expectations. This will bring me decades ahead of my fellow researchers. They’re looking in the wrong place and I’ll beat them to the discovery because of it. [Ed. Note: When you read the accompanying technical notes, you will see that while the man was completely insane, he truly was a genius and was decades ahead of other scientists. What a pity to the world that his genius was put to such ends.]


4 April 1944

The experiment was a greater success than any other. We have achieved a creature that is known as a ghoul. It eats human flesh and creates more ghouls from its claws and bite. This is excellent progress since a ghoul has always been the product of a vampire, before now. We are a step closer.

I feel like one of the Horsemen of the Apocalypse. I will spread my virus and all will be felled by it in one way or another – killed, uplifted, or cast down into a living purgatory as a ghoul. War fertilizes the fields with blood for me, Death must bow to me for I precede him in so much of his work sowing seeds of destruction and resurrection, and the seeds my virus germinates ironically blossom into a Famine of humanity. I rule them all in my own way.

I cannot help my flights of hyperbole. I am lifted up by my successes. Only here and now could what I do be possible and I am the one doing it!


6 June 1944

A boy! A damnable boy!

I cannot believe this. A boy fell into my home and killed most of my guards and then he swept through my laboratory with a vampire following him like a trained dog and they killed my staff!

I have lost almost everything except my records and She. As long as I have Her, my work is not ended.

Günsche has earned my respect. He does not talk, he just does. It is a pleasant change from others. He fought off that boy the British call the Angel of Death and came out of it in better shape than any other – a shape made of only one piece. I was terribly impressed by the damage the boy wrought. I just wish those had been British corpses and not my people and especially not my scientists!

[Ed. Note: I cannot help but be pleased to see that my work had such an effect on him. Sad that it was only transitory. I could have saved myself and countless others a great deal of pain.]


20 July 1944

Max tells me that he is prepared for what he sees as inescapable – the Reich will not prevail at this time in this form. I have looked at the signs and I agree with him.

We are prepared to continue our work despite that. Max tells me that he is building a base for us in South America where we will be able to continue the vampire research in peace and anonymity. I am choosing my staff carefully. Max is carefully hand-selecting every soldier who will go with us into the jungle. They will be his army when we re-emerge transfigured.


1 January 1945

I have not had the time for the luxury of personal entries for a while. We’ve been working furiously to make up for what we lost to the boy. Hellsing’s boy and Hellsing’s vampire. Someday we will pay them back.

Personal. I am tired. Brazil is hot. I have been starting a garden once again. It is wasteful not to use the results from my experiments in one form or another, so I have been experimenting with one garden patch. It came to me that there was no reason I should limit my ideas to humans or even animals. A vampiric plot of growth could tell me much about the nature of Her genetic virulence.


19 May 1953

Vampire cabbage are…

I find even my brilliant mind at a loss for how to properly describe vampire cabbage. I will not be recreating that experiment. I cannot afford to have any more of my assistants lose fingers.

[Ed. Note: He’s right. There are no words for vampire cabbage. Again, he has meticulous notes, which are separated out into the technical section, including photos of just what the cabbage did to his assistant. I am in awe. I thought I knew madness, but I was clearly mistaken.]


10 October 1964

“Language is a virus from outer space.” Those words struck me. One of the soldiers, all of whom have been ordered to give me anything in any form they read about viruses gave me a trio of books by an American, William S. Burroughs. I was beginning to despair in my reading until I came across that assertion.

Language is a virus. My new vampirism is a virus. The cold sore that started all this was from a virus. Culture is a virus since language influences culture and vice versa. Everything on this planet is one form of virus or another and no virus has the moral right to say that it is any better or any worse than any other.

I am Pestilence! And I am an agent of impartial evolution.


3 March 1971

Ernst has been missing work. Today he told me that his son is ill. Ordinarily I wouldn’t care in the least, but his little boy, Felix, has a form of leukaemia that Ernst has ascertained is caused by a retrovirus. Lucky boy. Thanks to his father’s profession, he may live forever. We will test the serum once it has been synthesized.

At the very least, the boy will not have to worry about dying of leukaemia.


12 July 1971

Success! Yes! I knew it! I could kiss Ernst for having a child who would give us the key through his illness.

Felix Schrödinger is our first unarguable success. He will probably always look like a twelve-year old boy. His ears will never look quite human, either, but what does it matter? He will not die from leukaemia. He will never die at all. I look at him and feel as much like his father as Ernst does.

I must find out what caused the malformation of his ears and test the boy’s resilience and full capabilities. We may be ready to start production. This is good. Many of us are aging. I want my virus to not just arrest development for eternity, I want it to take development to its optimal place and keep it there.


15 September 1971

Felix has insisted that he is one of us now and wants his own uniform. It is rather endearing. Max has given him the honorary rank of Warrant Officer and his own uniform which I find rather inappropriate, but that is just viral thinking and I will not engage in it.

Schrödinger has been invaluable already. I discovered which genetic anomaly was responsible for the ears and have eliminated it from the next batch of virus. I am unable to locate the source of his remarkable regeneration and even more remarkable ability to be everywhere and nowhere simultaneously. That will be a great benefit when it finally is isolated. We will be unstoppable.

[Ed. Note: The boy never had a chance. That is one of the great horrors of this war.]


1 August 1976

Now they understand? I feel vindicated that now the British and America scientific community are beginning to understand what I have known for decades. Everything is a virus – ideas, fashions, speech.

A homosexual addict who wrote books from cut up bits of paper understood that simple fact before these fools.

Richard Dawkins and his meme are only seventy-two years behind Richard Semon and Die Mneme. The British. Really. I hate them. [Ed. Note: I cannot say we think much of you, either.] Why is his work lauded and a German’s goes virtually unnoted?

I will turn the bigotry of the winner on the British some day and Dawkins will be forgotten and Semon will be immortalized.


22 May 1977

Schrödinger’s remarkable transformation has not been replicated. I have not been able to create another vampire who can teleport or regenerate the way he can, although I have eliminated the feline ear deformity. Still, this is a matter of function over form. I would accept the ears if I could replicate his other abilities more commonly.

I am testing on some of the lesser soldiers. I have limited successes now. They turn, but they are weak in sunlight the way the originals and Schrödinger are not. That can be worked around with proper uniforms to protect them from exposure to sunlight, but I do not want to limit the men, or someday myself,

[Ed. Note: The rest of the 1970s and most of the 1980s is more of the same. He has some transitory successes, but his breakthroughs come in the 1990s when he makes the changes that will permit Millennium to make their attacks within the planned time frame.]


11 April 1990

At last. After so many years I have fully succeeded. I have found the way to gift youth, power and eternal life all in one viral injection.

There are no words.

How can I possibly describe the rapture that this success brings me? I watched Günsche’s face change from the weathered visage of a man well past middle age to that of the young man I first met in 1943. He still talks as little as ever, but he is strong and swift and young eternally!

Max requests more tests before he submits to the virus, but he will.

So will I.

Soon.


1 May 1990

Max is right. We cannot give this gift to the Opera House men. They do not understand the vision that Max and I share. Their goals are too narrow, their minds too weak. I will continue to put them off with promises of tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow. They will not contaminate my future.


14 July 1991

A new and promising convert. Lieutenant Rip Van Winkle has been known for her inhuman marksmanship since the days of the War. She has been with us the entire time and finally took her turn on the table.

The virus’ progress is not gentle, although it is swift. I do not warn my subjects in advance because foreknowledge does nothing to mitigate the pain. On the contrary, I believe it makes the process more painful because of expectation. Better to keep the subject in ignorance until the convulsions begin.

Every person’s reaction to the virus is unique because every person’s genetic code is unique. Rip’s reaction was particularly unusual. Her age reverted farther back than most, but her slight form conceals remarkable strength and her ability to travel in the daylight is superb. It harms her not at all and bothers her only little.

She will have a special part to play that will be fitting for her special status. [Ed. Note: Details of Lt. Van Winkle’s conversion and abilities are in the appendix, as are those of all other so-called “Werewolves.”]


3 March 1992

Who would have thought that so many years after leaving Germany and going underground that we would have new recruits? It is amazing, but these three are very interesting.

They are not here because they believe in our cause. They are here for immortality just like so many others that Max has been co-opting all over the world. Really, the woman is the most interesting of the three. The tattoos are interesting, but what she can do with them is what makes her worth a second look. The brothers will mostly be useful for genetic comparisons.

She says that the tattoos were inscribed with a pigment imbued with mystic properties. Now that she is a vampire, I look forward to having many decades to explore the truth of her claims. It is my belief that all magic can eventually be explained by science. God was really just a scientist who was far beyond our understanding. I will catch up with him eventually. I can feel the opportunity within my grasp.

She screamed on the table just like all the others. Just like I did. Just like Max did. There’s no shame. The agony as the virus remakes you is transfiguring. I find myself unable to think on or speak of my own experience. I cannot even write it down. No doubt she, like all of us who have gone before her, will have the same experience.

[Ed. Note: The next six years are repetitions of the transformations of the rest of the Letztes Bataillon and the Werewolves. All appropriate files are indexed at the end of this report.]


28 August 1999

Spectacular. I was so impressed by the Hellsing vampire. He made short work of Luke Valentine. I had hoped for better of the boy, but I was not surprised. That their “Alucard” consumed Luke so completely was a surprise.

Their girl, the young vampire girl, was a surprise. None of our intelligence had informed us of her presence. She provided a bit of statistical chaos to the exercise. That was good. We needed that to shake us up. I will prepare for the inevitable next match-up with greater care.


10 September 1999

It was good to get out of Brazil for a time. Most of my work is complete. Operartion Seelowe will go forward now, even if I were to leave the picture, which of course I will not. I am integral to this from beginning to end.

The Catholics are so fickle. One decade they are helping us out of Poland and into hiding, another decade they are selling us to Hellsing for the price of a “please.”

As Max says, this changes nothing. It just brings us new opportunities to test our opponent.


12 September 1999


Such a pity I could not be present for Alucard’s encounter with Tubalcain Alhambra. At least I could watch it all with television cameras and through Alhambra’s eyes.

I never liked the Dandy. I was happy to send him up in flames, but I think I may have waited too long to do it.

We shall see. We have one more test and distraction to throw at him. I will miss the girl, but it will be worth it.


13 September 1999

It was good to get home, but better still was finally taking care of the Opera House men. I have waited so long to make their nattering stop. “Why have you not changed us?” “You let us get old.”

Whiners.

They should be happy. They will grow no older in any way.

England, the Vatican and Hellsing know we are coming and there is nothing they can do about it.


14 September 1999

The beginning of the end today. Yesterday, I packed Rip Van Winkle a thermos of her favorite blood type and sent her off to die.

I hated her less than most.

Alucard seemed to like her as well. It was sordid to watch her die. It would have been a blessing to her to finish her quickly rather than allow her to die in Alucard’s arms, but Max is in charge of this aspect of our war. He got us this far, I must trust him to take us the rest of the way.

Tonight, we board our zeppelin and fly for London. It amazes me still how quickly our zeppelins travel. Tomorrow. Tomorrow a new world will begin with me as one of its rulers.


[Ed. Note: I apologise. I was unable to work on the following section. As you read the transcription, I believe you will understand why. Instead I asked Lord Alucard to finish the translations on this sensitive matter. It was preferable to me to owe him the favour than to relive the experience quite so vividly.]

__________________________________________

[Translator’s Note: Walter asked me to give background for future readers who will not know this story as intimately as you, he, or I. The following are transcriptions from the Doctor’s audio recordings during the period he worked on Walter Dornez to transform him from human to vampire and to attempt to pervert him to Millennium’s service. As we well know, the former succeeded and the latter failed showing yet again why Walter is our Angel of Death.]


This is an audio record of my work on the Hellsing butler, Walter Dornez. He has been brought in by Captain Günsche against my fondest expectations, although not Major Max’s. It is 15 September 1999 at 2238 hours.

We see an older human male. According to our records, he is sixty-nine years old. Well preserved and relatively uninjured in his capture, although as yet, still unconscious.

Minor contusions on left temple, right cheek and hand-shaped bruises around his neck. I believe that measurements will show that the bruises will match the size of Captain Günsche’s hands.

His weapons have been removed and locked in a safe until such time as it is deemed safe for him to take up his arms for Millennium and we have cut off his clothing. [Translator’s Note: Sounds of murmuring off microphone, sounds as though he’s commenting on how well preserved for his age Walter is in some particular and personal areas.]

Butler. Butler wake up.

I am using smelling salts. [sounds of coughing]

Butler? Can you hear me?

[Walter Dornez’s voice] Y- Yes. Where am I? Sir Integral!

She will join you eventually, Butler. For now, we must begin. Major Max has given us a limited time. Do you see this?

[Translator’s Note: Very creative swearing from Mr. Dornez in multiple languages interrupted by frequent coughing. The content is unimportant as I doubt that future Hellsings will be studying this in an effort to learn how to insult someone’s parentage in Estonian.]

Very interesting. However, we are not here to discuss my mother’s sexual habits. We are here to give you back something you lost. In exchange, you will pay us back for things you took from us.

[Translator’s Note: More swearing. Really, Walter, I’m impressed.]

Very refined speech from a butler. This is the serum you thought you’d destroyed in Poland. This is the serum entering your veins.

[Translator’s Note: Very creative threats ending abruptly in screams. According to my watch, the screams continue unabated for twelve minutes before diminishing in volume enough to hear the Doctor’s commentary on the tape once more.]

– reversal of aging process continuing. As we know from prior experience, this stage will last for another twelve to twenty-six minutes, that being the median range from all prior observed transformations.

During this time period we must open the skull and insert the chip and implant the filaments in precise locations throughout the cerebral cortex. [sound of bone saw followed by more screams]

Now, with the hood up, we can insert the chip, spread the filaments and begin the programming. [Translator’s Note: silence broken by occasional low moans.]

Excellent. According to the chronometer, This implantation took eight minutes from opening the cranium to returning the bone to its former position for regeneration. As you can see, the subject looks markedly younger, I would estimate approximately thirty-five to forty years younger. His hair has returned to black and you can see the skull and flesh knitting and closing even while I speak.

Open your eyes, Butler. Open them. [sound of a slap] Better. You will do as I say.

What is your name, Butler?

[Walter] Walter Dornez. [screams]

No. What is your name, Butler?

[Walter] Walter Dornez. [screams]

[Translator’s Note: This same question and answer is repeated for twenty minutes.]

What is your name, Butler?

[Walter] Butler.

Excellent! As you can see, the chip that we have implanted has spread its way through his brain and with the calibrations I am able to do with the questions and answers, I can eventually reprogram his responses to everything I wish.

Our problem is that this is time consuming to do with any real precision and the Major has given me a strict time limit to get his new toy up and working. We will use blunt force in this case and after this battle is over, I will take the time to do the fine tuning that will be required to be sure of his loyalties.

Schmidt! Are you listening to me or looking out the window at the fires?

[Translator’s Note: Sound of a negative response from a voice not heard previously on the tape.]

You three should be aware of the honour you’re being paid to be allowed to watch this moment. This man has been a thorn in my side since 1944. Now he will serve Millennium and repay what he owes me.

Butler, whom do you serve?

[Walter] Hellsing. [screams]

[Translator’s Note: This same question and answer is repeated for twenty-two minutes.]

Butler, whom do you serve?

[Walter] I don’t know.

You serve Millennium.

Butler, whom do you serve?

[Walter] Millennium?

Excellent.

Your master is Major Montana Max. Who is your Master, Butler?

[Walter] M– In– Integral Hellsing [screams fading to sobs]

Your master is Major Montana Max. Who is your Master, Butler?

[Walter] Major Montana Max.

Perfect. Your name is Butler. You serve Millennium. Your Master is Major Montana Max. Your enemies are any who would oppose us. You must destroy those who will oppose Millennium or attempt to destroy your Master,

What is your name?

[Walter] Butler

Whom do you serve?

[Walter] Millennium.

Who is your Master?

[Walter] Major Montana Max.

What must you do to serve your Master and Millennium?

[Walter] I must destroy those who oppose Millennium or attempt to destroy my Master.

[New voice] Doc, the Major wants his toy!

It’s too soon! I’m just getting his setting fixed. Tell him to give me a few more hours, Warrant Officer.

[Warrant Officer] You tell him. He’s up there about to have a death orgasm and I’m not going to be the one to tell him his new toy isn’t ready.

Alright. I’ll bring him up as soon as I get him dressed. I don’t know if this is a good idea.

[Warrant Officer] This is war. We ran out of good ideas with the first death.


[Translator’s Note: The audio tape ends here. For the Angel’s sake, I will not relate the contents of this tape to any others. I cannot order, nor would I, but I would suggest that out of respect for him, you closely restrict access to this.]

[Ed. Note: I believe I’m touched. I trust that you (Sir Integral) will do with this as you see fit. I would not begin to dictate what you should do with a Hellsing resource.

You well know the resolution of this situation after the tape leaves off. I am pleased that Doc’s death did not mean the complete loss of what he learned. Many people suffered for his pride, at the very least our sacrifices should be redeemed by turning them to use against those who would pervert science to their own hubris.]