a/n: This is fanfiction about crossover between the Predators and Hellboy, based on the 2nd movie, The Golden Army. Mainly because I'm disturbingly obsessed with Nuada. (Hey, who isn't, right?) But like, you can relax because I'm not going to "turn out" all your favorite characters. This isn't technically about Nuada; in fact some of the characters you know and love are merely mentioned in passing. I like taking a basic concept and infusing it with my own creations. You'll understand more when you read. Anyway, I don't own anything that has to do with the Predators, Hellboy, the BPRD, nor do I want to piss of Mike Mingola even though he's such a terrible artist that it makes me furious that he's famous and I'm not. /=(

But I digress. Enjoy the read.

Chapter 2a: Incarnate

I don't remember much about my life before this. The fuzzy images that haunt my dreams do nothing but confuse me. I can use just about any weapon I pick up, and lay down a score of heavily armed men without breaking a sweat, but I don't recall learning how to fight.

I don't know why I look different from other men. Their skin is varying shades of peaches, caramels and browns, their hair is gold, orange, brown or black, and their eyes come in a strange assortment of blues, greens and mahogany. My hair is stark white, as is my skin, and my eyes are a haunting black and red. Most people act civil but they are terribly frightened of me, which is probably why they keep me locked up in this small, dark metal room.

I don't really know for certain who "they" are, per se. I'm not really allowed to roam the premises, but I have glanced into several offices and seen an awful lot of doctors lurking about, along with soldiers dressed all in black with patches that say, "BPRD".

Every day, they put me in a combat room to study my fighting skills. Then, I go back to my room to eat the well-balanced meals they cook for me. They give me shots several times a day and several times a week, they take blood. I get a while to relax, and then Margaret comes for my lessons. She's an older woman with soft, blue eyes and long orange hair streaked with gray. Margaret is the only one who isn't afraid of me, and it makes me feel better. She's been teaching me for as long as I can remember, ever since I woke up in that tank.

She teaches me about all sorts of things, but mostly the history of Man. I learn about their amazing accomplishments, America in particular, how they've helped the planet and many species of animals from extinction, and that I should always love and respect them. She tells me I live in the greatest country in the world and that the greatest heroes have fought and died for it to remain free. When she says it, it all makes sense; but when I'm lying in bed at night in the darkness with nothing but the humming of the machines to keep me company, somehow, it all seems wrong.

I've talked to her about some of my doubts, and even some of the dreams. "Oh, Adam!" She chuckles, touching my arm. "Dreams don't mean anything, they're just random brain synapses going off. There's nothing to worry about. Now let's go over the U.S. Constitution one more time..."

The one thing I keep to myself is the unbearable feeling of loneliness. I'm not sure why, but it feels as though I'm missing something; as if when I woke up for the first time, there was a piece absent from my soul. My dreams show me glimpses of a woman that looks very much like me, reaching out to me in despair. I know her, and I love her. There, my name isn't Adam; the woman calls me Nuada. I long to be beside her, wherever she is, and when I awake, tears streak down my face. I struggle to hold onto her mental image for as long as I can, but once breakfast comes, the majority of it fades.

I've asked Margaret and a few of the other men in suits who seem to make decisions for a pad and pencil, so that I may record these dreams and attempt to draw the woman's face. They always somehow convince me that it's a silly idea, and get me to dismiss it. I have the same dream again, only I'm under water and the woman is looking at me through glass. "Nuada, I cannot feel you", she cries, reaching to me. "Where have you gone?"

I want to talk to her, but I have all these tubes in my nose and mouth, like I did when I awoke in the tank. "I'm here. You need only look." I hear myself think, not speak. She puts her small, delicate hands on the glass, and then brings her face nearer to take a better look. She suddenly recoils with a loud gasp, gripping her chest. It's then that I realize she's wearing a beautiful silk dress; something you'd find in the Renaissance era. I'm not sure why that matters, but to me it seems poignant. "What is it? What do you see?" My own voice resounds in my head.

Her eyes, strange and alien as mine, finally focus on me. "Oh, there you are. They… they gave you a second chance." She forces a smile, but her immeasurable sadness is more than apparent. "Maybe things can be better for you this time."

"What? Who are you?" I scrap desperately at the glass, thinking that maybe if I can break through it and get to her, all this will make sense.

"I am your sister, Nuala." She continues to smile, though her tears fall freely down her soft, pale face. I'm stunned into a still, hallowing silence. "Please, please, make peace with the Humans." She begs, her body quivering from pent up emotion. "But do not forget me, or our Father, King Balor, for we shall be with you always, watching over you." She covers her mouth and steps further and further away from the glass.

I reach out for her, screaming and pounding on the glass, "No, come back! My sister, wait!" But her image fades and all is reduced to dizzying black swirls. I sit bolt upright in bed with a loud, hoarse cry, soaked in sweat and tears. In another moment, I clamber to the toilet to void whatever's left in my stomach. I'm not sure what time it is, but when I've finally regained my composure, I strain to listen for any bustling from outside the doors, but all I hear is that constant, low humming. That means everyone else is asleep, and that my door is locked. They say it's for my own safety, that there are others in this compound that are not as kind and peaceful as men, and they might hurt me, but I fight well, and I don't fear anyone. And right now, I want my damned pad and pencil before I forget my sister's face.

Jiggling the lock proves to be as ineffective as trying to pry it open using brute strength. I've seen what the door looks like from the other side: it's large and circular with this winding mechanism that resembles a bank vault. I know there's a specific sequence of numbers you need to open it as well, which doesn't help my cause. A feeling of hopelessness comes over me. In frustration, I pound on the door and cry out into the darkness for no reason at all. "My sister, Nuala! You said you'd watch over me- well here I am, trapped in this dark little box! If there's anything you can do to help me, then please do so! Send me a sign!" I let out a sob, slumping down with my back against the door, knees to my chest. I hear Margaret's words in my head, telling me how silly I'm being, and suddenly, I feel silly.

There are several long minutes of nothing but the darkness and that infernal humming, and I feel downright stupid. I fall back asleep in that position and dream of nothing at all. I'm awoken the next morning when one of the doctors opens the door to hand me my breakfast. I've met him a few times, he told me a while back to call him Doctor Jake. He's one of the few doctors here with a personality. He seems concerned that I was out of bed, and insists on helping me back into it. I tell him I feel ill and that I'm not hungry, so he gives me a basic checkup and says that if I've been throwing up, I should drink so I don't become dehydrated. He says he'll leave the food here in case I feel better. He then takes out a walkie-talkie and tells someone named General Bernard to cancel my fight training for today. A deep, masculine voice radios back with a hundred questions and twice as many protests. Doctor Jake calmly tells him I'm not well and that he recommends bed rest for today. With a reluctant groan, the man agrees and orders him to check up on me over the course of the day in case I'm up for it later.

Doctor Jake takes out a tourniquet and syringe to take more of my blood. I watch with mild interest. "I want a pad and pencil, please." I remark when the doctor's done.

He gives me the oddest look. "Why, Adam?"

"I… want to write, and try to draw, maybe. I keep asking but they won't let me. I don't understand why. Could you get them for me?"

He suddenly looks uncomfortable, as if I'd just asked him to remove his pants. "I… well, I'm not sure if… I need to ask if that's… allowed."

"Allowed?" I squint at him. "What am I, a prisoner here?"

He's quick to respond, putting both his hands up in defense. "No, no, of course not! It's just that…"

"Please, Doctor Jake." I sulk, piteous and wide-eyed. "All I do is eat, fight and listen to lectures. I have no way of expressing myself. I feel as if all this inside me is going to kill me if I don't get it out." He gives me a sad, helpless face and I can tell I'm getting to him, so I don't let up. "Everyone here is so scared of me because I look different. Like I'm going to use the pencil to stab them in the eye or something. I just want to write. Please; you're not scared of me like everybody else, are you?"

He looks me in the eyes and after a moment, shakes his head. "No, Adam. I'm not."

"So why is it such a bad thing?"

He watches me for a moment longer, his brows creasing with purpose, his tone now a harsh whisper. "I'll see what I can do, but if anyone finds it here, you tell them you stole it, I don't care what you tell them, but it cannot come back to me. Do you understand?"

"Yes, thank you!" I'm so overjoyed that I actually throw my arms around him. He goes stiff for a moment, and then hugs me back with a chuckle.

"Alright, alright, calm down. Try to eat something, okay?" He pulls me at arm's length and I see on him such a genuine, affectionate smile that for a brief moment, I forget how lonely I am. He gets up, clears his throat and jots a few notes down on his clipboard with a ballpoint pen, then makes a motion like he's putting it back in his chest pocket, but it misses and falls onto the bed. My eyes follow it but I don't make a move to pick it up yet. He gives me a meaningful look. "You take it easy, maybe have some of the eggs and orange juice, it should settle your stomach. I'll be in later to check up on you." He gives me a wink and a smile, turns and leaves the room.

I casually fix the blankets and snatch the pen up, hiding it under my pillow. My spirits are lifted so much that I eat some of the eggs and crackers. It does make my stomach feel better, just like Doctor Jake said it would. I lay back and smile to myself, glad to finally have a pen. Now if only I can remember what I needed it for…?

I must've fallen asleep, because two men arguing wake me up a while later. It all sounds distant and garbled, until I get up out of bed and press my hands against the door. Then suddenly, I can hear them as though I were standing next to them. "I don't care if you think he's not ready, we don't have much of a choice!" That voice sounds like the deep, seedy tone of the man that was on the other end of the walkie talkie earlier.

"Aren't there any others you can call on? Does it have to be him?" That sounds like Doctor Jake.

"There ain't anyone else. Project Forty-Two Green isn't complete, and the mechas aren't online yet. Hellboy and the others are in Afghanistan; the situation's too sensitive to pull them out now. I've been watching Adam in combat training for months. He's phenomenal; and he may be the only one left in this hemisphere who might be able to stand a chance against those things."

"I understand that, but he's never been outside this compound, he's never even seen the sun! You can't expect him to just waltz out into civilization, take them down and come back to us."

"I know, which is why you're gonna put the RFID chip in him."

I hear Doctor Jake gasp. "You can't be serious! General, he's a person, not a dog."

"He's not a person, he's a clone, and he's our property. We have a right to keep track of him." A clone? What on Earth is that? I instinctively look down at my own hands, chalky white and severely calloused from all the combat practice. I get this awful feeling in the pit of my stomach and I wish there were somewhere I could hide where these men would never find me. If they let me go, I swear, I'd rather die than come back.

"Please, think about what this will do to him…psychologically…let alone physically, all those germs? His immune system isn't up to par yet. I could give you a hundred thousand reasons why this is a bad idea. Please, consider sending Red Ten instead?"

"Red Ten is still unresponsive after his last suicide attempt. Margaret thinks he's gone catatonic. Look, Jacob, it's either we send Adam, or the Predators continue their open season on us. You've got twenty-four hours to prep him, whatever it takes, I don't care; but he needs to be field ready as soon as possible. Do I make myself clear?"

There's a long, uneasy pause between them. Doctor Jake finally speaks, low and solemn. "Loud and clear, General."

"Good." Is all he says, and I hear the melodic clackity-clack of his boots marching down the hall.

Doctor Jake lets out a hefty sigh. "Fuck me."

I dart back with a shaky gasp, and I know he's on his way to my door. He's going to tag and track me, and then he's going to send me to die for them. I don't remember being so frightened in all my life. I hear Doctor Jake's footfalls stop at the door. He pauses a few moments, then opens it up. I'm standing there facing him, my whole body shuddering, arms wrapped around myself. He takes one look at me and knows I heard something I wasn't supposed to.

"Adam, I…"

"What's a clone?" I interrupt him. "What the hell am I?"

He looks surprised. "You heard that? We were all the way down the…"

"ANSWER ME!" I yell, and he flinches.

"Oh, Adam, you weren't meant to hear that. I'm so sorry."

I begin crying, despite my best efforts to contain myself. "Doctor Jake, please!" My voice cracks from stress. "Tell me what I am!"

He sighs, slumping his shoulders. "Come take a walk with me." He holds out an arm, motioning for me to follow. After a moment of contemplation, I do. He puts the arm around me and walks me down the brightly lit hallway to a door I've never been to before. He presses a button on the wall and there's a ding. The door opens to reveal an enclosed room big enough for maybe five people to stand comfortably in. My worried gaze meets his. "Don't worry, it's just an elevator. We're going outside, Adam. I want to show you the sun."

To be continued…