Author's Note: This one will be in first person, because I seem to be having a hard time writing in third person recently. It just bothers me, so I'm making an entirely new story with a new plot and characters. Hopefully, you'll enjoy this one…I'm not sure if I'll continue the other one. Enjoy. And also, this one won't be based off the comics or movies, just kind of something from my own imagination.
Chapter 1: Why Is She So Special?
Room darkened, without light, a ringing sound echoed through the desolate home, as if knocking on the bedroom door, a doorbell to the bedroom. For a moment, I prayed the sound would end, but eventually, I peeled myself away from the comfort of my pillow, light grey eyes dancing across the floor, through the cool air of the room, along the walls, and then onto the nightstand. The numbers on my clock were red and blocky and read: 4:55 AM. Scratching my head, I pondered who could possibly be ringing me this early in the morning, or perhaps the phrase was this late? Regardless, I lifted myself from the bed and stumbled almost blindly through the hallway of my apartment, landing myself in the kitchen, where my tiny hand clasped the phone. Removing it from the wall, the ringing ceased, and I licked my lips before speaking.
"Hello?"
"Hello, this is Tom Manning," the voice floated through the phone, making me shift oddly, trying to wake my still asleep body up. "I'm calling for a…Miss Isis Winter?" Biting my lip, I wondered if I should confirm my name or not, pulling my face away from the receiver, yawned, then decided I should.
"This is," my voice was barely audible. "May I help you?"
"Yes," the man answered almost too quickly. He almost sounded aggravated to be making the call this early, as if he hadn't woken up either. "This morning, at exactly 5:37 AM, a black car will come to the front entrance of your apartment. You are to get into the car and from there, you shall be escorted to a facility. Your presence is needed."
I crinkled my nose in deep thought, letting out a slow exhale. "Why?"
"I can't disclose said information. Just come to this…'appointment', and you shall be given the information you want to have." Before I could ask any other questions, the phone clicked and then I was greeted with the dial tone, my grey eyes meeting the phone for a moment before I hung it up onto the wall again. Running my fingers through my blonde (almost white) hair, I stood awkwardly in my dimly lit kitchen. I had limited time to wash up, get dressed and get set up for this…unexpected meeting that I was suddenly summoned to. I wasn't exactly sure where I was going, but I didn't feel any bad vibes off of his voice, just maybe from the light irritation his tone gave off.
Brushing it off, I wasted no time in getting ready: getting into the shower, enjoying the feel of the temporary warmth on my almost ever-cold flesh. Once I was clean, I got out, drying myself off before pulling on some jeans and a generic t-shirt, a hoodie covering the logo. Keeping my eye on the time, I put on some make-up, staring into the mirror for a brief moment.
I was slim, even with the baggy hoodie pulled over my torso. My flesh was pale, but not a sickly kind of pale. My eyes were a cool grey, pale, but shimmering at the same time, a hint of warmth beyond what I was looking at in the glass before me. My hair was naturally light, so blonde that it was almost white. It was also cut short, unable to find its way into my face or get too messy looking no matter how much I moved around. For some reason, it always appealed to me to have short hair so it wouldn't get into the way. Of what, I wasn't entirely sure, but I kept it that way, nonetheless. My pale rose colored lips pursed for a second before relaxing, making me turn away from the mirror, fingers flipping off the light.
5:29 AM.
Biting my lip softly, I tore my eyes from the clock, glancing out the window, suddenly satisfied to see rain pouring down from the sky, thunder lighting up the grey. Cocking my head to the side, my eyelids fluttered shut, the soft glittering white eye shadow fully visible before they opened again.
The remainder of the time ticked by almost too fast and the next thing I knew, I was pulling on my coat and heading downstairs, into the lobby. The lights were still off; the only lighting given was through the windows from the occasional flash of lightning. The thunder's loud rumble shook the building, but I proceeded with nonchalance, enjoying the sound of nature's soundtrack.
When I entered the lobby, my eyes caught sight of a man in black, face expectant as he peered through the window, unable to enter the building without the key, an umbrella creating a layer of water between him and myself. Spotting me, he smiled lightly, and for a second, I paused, halting my steps, but the hesitation only lasted a millisecond before I perused my walking, exiting the building silently. No rain hit me, as the man was polite enough to offer his umbrella to me and to allow himself to get wet. I would've been flattered if I wasn't so curious as to what was going on.
5:37 AM.
Right on time.
"Miss Winter," the man said politely as he held the back door open for me, umbrella still posed above my head, shielding me from the rain. My teeth caught my full bottom lip, gnawing lightly on it briefly. Should I do this? Is it even smart for any woman to agree to leave her apartment after being demanded to come to a facility she didn't even know about? Yet, upon looking at the man's smiling face and feeling the lightness of the situation, I urged myself forward, disappearing into the back of the car, withdrawing slightly when the man slammed the door.
The man got into the front and I leaned forward between the seats, staring at him silently before mustering up enough courage to speak.
"Excuse me…um…"
"John Myers," the man said. "It's a pleasure to meet you finally, Miss Winter."
"Isis will do fine, Mr. Myers."
"And so will John," he grinned, staring at me as he started driving, eyes latched onto the rearview mirror. "Just so you know, you're not being kidnapped or anything."
"Oh." It was the least intelligent response I could force out.
"You look nervous, so I suppose I could tell you a little bit about what to expect. Does that sound okay?"
"Yes."
What was with my singled-worded answers?
"You were selected, just like how I was, to work at the B.P.R.D." He seemed way to cheerful to be saying this and I eyed him silently, but skeptically.
"B.P.R.D.? I thought that was all a huge myth or some fake thing." I objected, wondering where my voice had been hiding.
"Nope," John peeped into the mirror at me again, flashing another smile before his eyes focused back onto the road ahead. "It's all real. But, yeah, you were selected to work there. What you'll be doing, I'm not entirely sure, but let's hope it isn't kitchen duty for Red. I'd feel so bad for you if it was! You'd be behind that stove almost all day making his meals!"
"Red? You mean…"
"Hellboy? Yeah. Don't worry," he caught my dazed look. "I didn't believe it, either."
"Hm…" I tapped my chin in thought, wondering what the B.P.R.D. could possibly use me for. Licking my lips, I leaned back into the chair to ponder it, eyes locked on my tiny intertwined fingers. Letting out a breath, I shifted so I was looking out the window now, watching the scenery pass us by, or us pass it more so.
"Can I ask you something?"
I blinked, glancing over at John through the mirror, nodding my head.
"Is your hair color…" he trailed off.
"Natural?"
"Yeah."
I nodded. "Everyone asks me that. My hair has always been almost white. I always think I should've been snow or something, with my last name and my icy appearance. People sometimes get the feeling that I'm kind of mean, too."
"Mean? No! You're really…delicate looking…almost like…like…" John struggled to find the word.
"Snow?" I suggested.
"That's it!"
"Everyone says that, too," I bit half of my bottom lip. "I'm beginning to wonder if I should take that as a compliment or not."
"Don't worry, I meant it as one," he grinned slightly, pulling through a gate and around a square looking kind of building. "Come on, everyone's waiting inside. You have to meet Manning, since he's the one that wanted you here for some reason. I don't even know how he found you or picked you or whatever those people do to decide crap."
"How did you get involved again?"
"The professor found me."
"The professor?"
"Professor Trevor Broom," John got out of the car, pulling the door open for me, umbrella blocking the rain, the sky above darkening, despite the fact that morning was normally brightening by this point. "Now, please come with me, Isis." Slightly hesitant, I bit my lip, but peeled myself out of the seat, grinning politely in John's direction before following him into the building, shocked to find a plan room, black floor tile, a symbol of gold in the center of the room on the floor, a man at a desk in the middle of the wall ahead.
"This is supposed to be a waste management facility. You mean to tell me that this is the B.P.R.D.? A shame. I thought those garbage trucks were always at the scene of crimes to pick up the mess." I slightly joked, staring at John sympathetically as he rung out his soaked clothes. He ran his finger through his hair, forcing a smile at me, urging me forward with a little motion of his hand.
"Yeah," he answered me. "Not that bad though once you get used to the place. It's actually quite cozy."
"Miss Winter?" The man addressed me, standing perfectly still, hands folded behind his back. He was dressed in all black, a plain suit, emotion hidden by the generic look his face held. Glancing over at him, I stepped forward cautiously, looking around the room, seeing no doorways, just the one John and I entered through. "You're right on time. See, Mr. Myers? She actually showed up on time, much unlike you did."
John scoffed. "Whatever. Can we just get her to meet the rest of the agents and stuff? Manning is probably pacing insanely right now in his office waiting for us—her." He corrected himself, staring at the man at the desk. Blinking and a bit lost, I looked between the two, searching for any kind of entry way that would lead me anywhere but this room or outside. Instead of finding anything, I found myself compelled to stand in the dead center of the room, eyes latched onto the golden symbol of a hand holding a sword. For some reason, it felt almost familiar, like it was natural to be standing on his symbol, my body expecting something to happen, but yet a portion of me wondering where all of these seemingly random thoughts and feelings were coming from.
Grey eyes dancing around the gold, I cocked my head, trying to take in the sight better from where I was, perched above it, staring vacantly. John stood beside me, looking at the symbol with me, my eyes slipping away like quicksilver, moving, moving, moving until they met John's two big brown eyes, hair plastered to his head, drenched with rain water, his body radiating the wonderful aroma of nature's perfume. Inhaling, I stared at him, my grey eyes dancing around his face, absorbing every fine detail of his face: the little to no sign of stubble growing on his face, the way he looked tired and exhausted but enthusiastic all the same, his lively and young brown eyes, the way his hair was drenched but stayed in place all the same.
"I hope you enjoy meeting the director, Miss Winter. Watch your arms now." The 'doorman' watched us, and his words confused me, but I felt like I had heard them before, like this was all something that happened a long, long, long time ago. It was just a matter of—did the floor just move?
"What's happening?" I kept my voice even, staring down at the shifting floor in minor shock. John gazed over at me, as if he knew what I was thinking, feeling, like he had been through it before. Part of me kind of already knew he had been.
"We're going down to Section 51, that way you can meet the director and see what your job is going to be." John tucked his hands into his pockets, smiling at me sweetly, rocking back and forth on his feet, watching as we went lower and lower, the level and ceiling above us disappearing.
"Oh," I crossed my arms across myself tightly. "Alright…"
"Don't look too enthusiastic now," John joked, stepping onto the regular ground, motioning for me to follow after him. Obeying, I trailed behind him, getting walked through several hallways before entering a room with stairs, a homey looking kind of room, a fireplace lit and a large tank on the side. "I'll go get Manning, unless you want to come with me? Or, will you be comfortable in here?"
"Ah, Agent Myers! I see you got Miss Winter!" A voice almost croaked from behind us. Turning around, I spotted an older man, grey haired and glasses, a friendly and warm smile on his face. Returning the gesture, I nodded my head at the old man, looking around the room, keeping my grey eyes moving, dancing and twisting, fluttering over every detail on the walls before falling back onto the man.
"Isis will do fine," I tilted my head, holding out my hand politely. "And you are…" I felt rude for not knowing the man, but the instant he took my hand and gave it a warm squeeze, I could almost feel his name on the tip of my tongue, making me almost immediately withdraw my hand. It's like I could hear him without him really speaking. Shaking it off, my grey eyes focused onto him again.
"I'm Professor Trevor Broom," he beamed. "Professor will do fine if you desire to feel less formal."
"Alright." I bit my lip, looking around again. The friendly glow of the fireplace made me want to smile and sit in front of it on one of the fancy, but comfortable looking sofas.
"You certainly are a bit quiet," the professor chuckled, pacing across the room and flipping pages of four books placed on pedestals before the tank across the room. Wondering what was in there and why there were books, I stepped forward, peering past the professor and into the tank, wondering if there was just a fish inside of there. "Being soft-spoken is quite a rare find in this facility. Especially my son."
Suddenly, I stumbled backwards when a blue man popped up in front of me in the tank. Gasping, I took a few shaky steps back, jittering slightly before swallowing down my surprise and staring at the man, placing my hand to the tank.
"Miss Isis Winter, 24 years old, aspiring psychologist?" The fish-man spoke with a level tone, almost like mine.
I nodded, cocking my head. "How did you…"
"He has a unique frontal lobe," the professor piped up for him. "He has psychic abilities. Be careful what you think, dear."
"I have nothing to hide," I smiled faintly at the fish-man. My palm pressed flat against the glass, I felt a name almost buzz through my body, my mind unable to grasp it as it floated through me, making my hand recoil in slight surprise. Taken back, I stared, motionless at the fish-man, wondering what exactly was happening to me. "What's his name?" My vision spun and focused onto the professor, waiting for an answer, until I heard the swimming man submerged in water pipe up behind me.
"Abraham Sapien," he spoke evenly. "But I tend to go by Abe or Blue around here."
"Charmed," I murmured quietly, feeling suddenly shy and suffocated from all the people running around all around me. "And for me, Isis will do."
"Pleased to meet you," he cocked his hand to the side and placed his webbed hand against the glass, as if feeling separated. A brief feeling of pity passed through me for Abe, but it immediately ebbed away from my mind as I touched the glass where his hand was, wondering why everything felt so familiar, so new but the same at the same time. "You are quite a complex woman, Isis."
I rose an eyebrow, pulling my hand back and folding it into a knot with my other arm, body crumpled up as if I were cold. I was always cold. "Thanks, I guess?"
"It wasn't really a compliment, but it wasn't an insult. You're just complex, different, delicate, but firm. Like snow…or ice."
"I…"
"Hear that from everyone?" Abe continued my sentence.
"You'll get used to him completing your thoughts," the professor piped up from the back of the room. "He does it quite frequently."
"Right." I stepped back from the tank, looking around the room, standing awkwardly in the center momentarily, until I heard chatter coming from the hallway.
"Isis Winter, I presume?" A man stepped through the doorway, spotting me, running his hand over his balding head for a second before sighing and coming closer.
"Yes." I looked at him expectantly.
"Alright, well come along before the Red Monkey gets here," the man sighed, looked at John and waved him off before leading me down the hallway. Following behind him, I felt suddenly like a lost puppy, trailing behind people almost all day long, ever since I woke up. Eventually, we disappeared into an office, everything pristine and silver, shining in the lights overhead, the faint hum almost soothing in an odd type of way. "Please, take a seat."
I obeyed, plopping down into one of the rather large cushioned seats in front of his desk. "May I ask what you've called me here for?" I could only assume that this was Tom Manning, the director of B.P.R.D.
"Of course," he sat in his chair, folding his hands and leaning on his desk, staring at me before continuing. "Trust is: I just need an assistant. We sent out letters and men to get information. You came out to be the best psychologist, with extra things that come in that make you more qualified for the job. Like I said: I just needed an assistant, but we found something a little more than we bargained for. We are interested in hiring you to be the B.P.R.D.'s newest Agent of the Psychological Department. As well as that, you'll be tagging along with the team when they go on missions."
I felt confused, blinking madly. "What? What exactly will I be doing?" I asked him.
"You'll be finding missions in which seem to check out okay. Once they are cleared and good to go, you'll take notes on the person and ask them all about the situation, to see if they're lying and setting this up just for the paparazzi trying to get some pictures of Hellboy, or if they really are telling the truth."
I cleared my throat, scooting to the edge of the chair. "So essentially, my job will be to interview people to make sure that they're telling the truth about what they've reported so Hellboy and the rest of the…team isn't exposed to press vultures?"
Manning smiled, pleased. "Exactly. Besides, you'll be one of the few freaks around here."
"Right…" I tried to speak more loudly, testing my confidence. "Earlier, you spoke of…these extra things. What are they?" The director lit a cigar, taking a tiny puff before staring me, leaning back into his chair. Licking my lips, I stared at him, waiting patiently for an answer.
"Well, you were top of your classes, which were all AP and higher courses when you were in school, so you're highly intelligent. Somewhere, we read you took martial arts, so you're also athletic, which means you could probably keep up with the rest of our agents that go in on these missions. And you were a gymnast in school, flexibility is also good. Shall I go on?" Manning cocked an eyebrow and I bit my lip, looking away.
"So I'm physically fit," I shrugged my shoulders. "What makes me different?"
"I can't really say," he answered with an honest look on his face. "The Fishstick and the professor helped me with the paperwork and something about your app form for jobs at different offices set off the giant blue fish-man. Something about your writing reflecting depth and how we should look into it…I don't know. Only time will tell more clearly, I guess."
"Oh." Was all I could manage to force out. My life had taken a complete 180° turn around and now I was completely lost and walking in the opposite direction I came from. I wasn't exactly sure, but this place almost felt like home, like for some reason I would fit in better here than I did in society.
"Well," he waved at the door. "I'd love to sit here and chat, but I have to get going. I have another TV interview with the press to try and cover that stupid monkey's ass again." He seemed more than angry as he yanked on his coat and scarf, compelling me to stand and leave the room, confused as I blindly walked down hallways, somehow making it back into the room with the tank.
"Isis!" John glanced over at me. "What did Manning say?"
"I have a job?" I asked more than stated.
"Yes! I knew that she would be the one for the job!" Abe voiced from the tank.
Professor Broom came over as well. "We did a thorough search on your background, Miss Winter. Don't think we invaded your privacy, we just broadened our horizons of knowledge about you. You seemed too good to be true, so we searched more and more."
"This is excellent!" Abe sounded excited, but his face displayed no emotion. I guess that's one of the drawbacks to being a fish-man thing. Brushing it off, I glanced around at everyone.
"Hey!" A voice called from behind the other that were crowding around me, save for Abe, who was contained within his tank still.
"Son!" Professor Broom turned and stared at his 'son', who happened to be ducking through the doorway with a cigar between his lips, his body huge, red and stature more than just intimidating to someone of my size. Around 6'5" and all pure muscle, the infamous Hellboy made his way across the room, heading towards me, yet for some reason, I didn't back away or run. Instinct failed me!
…Or did it?
"Hey, Red! You haven't met Isis yet, have you?"
"Isis?" Hellboy plucked the cigar form his mouth, not really looking at me, not really seeing me just yet. "Father?" He glanced at the professor, who smiled, arms behind his back, taking a step away from me, revealing me to the huge demon, whose body was clad in a tight black shirt, the trademark trench coat and the black pants, a huge belt slung around his middle. My eyes danced and twisted, playfully bounding across his face, taking in the detail of his flesh: the scars, the wrinkles, the tired bags under his piercing yellow eyes. His black hair and sideburns resembling mutton chops and a tiny tuft of hair on his chin below his bottom lip. My eyes never touched the stubs on his head, but they paused, settling on his eyes briefly, as if trying to return the favor of intimidation through a meaningless and rather hopeless stare-down. I could tell he suppressed a shiver the way he shifted and moved, cigar back between his lips.
"Son, this is the newest Agent," the professor, motioned towards me. "She is apparently in charge of the only section of psychology now so less paparazzi will be getting you. Her job will be to…what did the director say?"
Hellboy snort. "Manning hired her?"
"He did, but we helped pick her out, Red." Abe spoke up.
"Go on, dear," the professor urged me to speak, a sweet smile on his wrinkled face. Swallowing, I licked my lips and stared into the big red demon's eyes.
"My job is to interview people prior to entering missions, to virtually slim down to see if they're telling the truth or if it's a hoax."
"Couldn't we just have had Abe do that?" Hellboy scoffed, unimpressed.
"She's human, Red," Abe blinked, shaking his head. "If I could roll my eyes at you, I would."
"So what? What makes her so special?" He asked as if I wasn't even standing there.
"Son!"
"I don't like her."
"Give her a chance, Red," John persisted the matter. "Come on!"
Hellboy eyed me over for a moment before sighing loudly and rolling his eyes. "Fine, but if she screws up, then she's gone." Before I could respond or even think fast enough to even begin to formulate a defense answer, he bolted from the room, leaving us all standing there staring after him.
"That, my dear, would be my son, Hellboy." Professor Broom stated plainly, sounded tired and slightly disappointed.
"So I can see." I sighed.