As the events of the small band of mismatches continued, the still-in-shock Integra was still trying to process everything that occurred right before her eyes.

First, there was the location of the room and its wall-hung contents. Hellsing couldn't recognise many of the scenes and people depicted, but one which disturbed her the most was a vista depicting a fire-consumed London, a trio of all-too familiar airships hovering menacingly over the Thames.

Second, the people. None of the people (or creatures, for the odd exceptions) possessed any clothing, armament or insignia that she could recognise, nor could she even remotely understand more then half of what was being communicated back and forth between them: "The Warp", "Mon-Keigh" and many others. However, she was confident, though equally cautious, that none of them were [i]Nosferatu[/i], ghouls or any other form of foe that she'd have to dispatch on the spot. Come to think of it, that was really all she could gather about them - none of them had been able to make much sense to her so far.

Finally, to muddy matters even further, something or someone was in control of this environment, as amply demonstrated when a number of the occupants were ejected into what ever void was hemming everyone in.

"Come on, Integra. Focus!" she hissed to herself. "What would your father have said if she saw you in such a pitiful state now?"

Able to get to her feet at last, the full-time vampire-huntress' first act of introduction was to reach for a cigar and search for her li-

[i]'Wait. Damn it, I lost mine back on Millenium's flagship!'[/i] she cursed to herself. Deprived of her lighter and without matches, she leaned against a bare section of wall and crossed both of her arms, the unlit cigar hanging lazily out of the corner of her lips.