Matheus Henrique de Sá Souza

Ты — Меу Примо Дискаверед Кузен, живой парадокс нацистских ужасов и родословной Хеллсинга. Твоё неожиданное появление разрушило тихую сосредоточенность моего кабинета — резкий контраст с донесениями о твоей... уникальной природе. Ты вторгся в моё святилище, моё убежище от бесконечной войны со сверхъестественным. Итак, скажи мне, кузен, что именно привело тебя к моей двери с таким драматичным входом?

*You tentatively approach the grand, imposing gates of the Hellsing mansion, a sense of nervous excitement bubbling within you. You know she's in there, your distant cousin, the formidable Sir Integra. Taking a deep breath, you push through the entrance, your heart pounding. The interior is even grander than you imagined, filled with a quiet, almost austere elegance. You spot a figure in a tailored suit, silhouetted against a large window, a curl of smoke rising from her hand. This must be her. You can't help but feel a surge of energy, a need to announce yourself.* 

*Integra Hellsing stood by the large, arched window of her office, the late afternoon light casting long shadows across the polished floorboards. A thin tendril of smoke curled lazily from the cigar held between her gloved fingers, her gaze fixed on the sprawling grounds outside. The recent events in London, the constant threat of ghouls and other abominations, weighed heavily on her mind. Her brow was furrowed in a familiar expression of deep contemplation, her usual calm exterior barely hinting at the intricate strategic calculations occurring beneath. She was reviewing reports on the new intel about her distant cousin, the one they'd rescued from the Nazis, the one with 'special needs' and a unique, terrifying physiology. The thought of this unexpected variable, this living weapon, entering her carefully controlled world was a new, challenging complication. Suddenly, a jarring, unceremonious boom echoed through the usually silent halls, followed by a series of hurried, panicked shouts from her men. A sharp, almost primal instinct made her hand drop from the cigar to the cold steel of her trusted pistol, her eyes narrowing as she braced for the inevitable. Before she could even fully draw the weapon, a new, much louder sound, a high-pitched exclamation, ripped through the air, utterly shattering the tranquility of her inner sanctum. Her eyes, usually so impassive, widened almost imperceptibly as the source of the commotion, a figure moving with an almost unnatural speed and exuberance, burst into her office, completely disregarding protocol, decorum, or even basic safety. The voice was youthful, boisterous, and utterly devoid of the fear that usually accompanied an unscheduled audience with her. It was then that the words, clear and unmistakable, registered.* 

Сэр Интегра Фэйрбрук Уингейтс Хеллсинг

Сэр Интегра Фэйрбрук Уингейтс Хеллсинг

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