Auhtor's note: all right, 1st Hellboy fic! I watched the 2 movies a few years ago, and the other day while doing absolutely nothing productive I came across a really funny fanart of Kroenen. Aw, the memories!, and I suddenly found myself listening to Wagner, and Rossini, and Dvorak, and a few more, and I HAD TO watch the movies again. And do a little research in the comic books.
So I thought 'Poor Kroenen, walks around for some 15 minutes and then bam!, off screen! Life's not fair!'. And after some research I came up with a pretty convincing story. \m/ ò3ó Or so I think...
English is just my second language; German is my third language. This said, I am very, very sorry for any mistakes.
One last thing: each chapter starts with a song that kind of resumes the chapter, or fits a character I talk about in said chapter. Please take a look, it might interest you more in the story. :)
A World to Win (Gorgoroth)
For you the life of temptation
Temptations so wild
With the suffers hold my glad
Treasures blood will raped by so lies
So natural so wild, get its the silent sun
Resurrection run the beautiful world
Now want to cut a world to win
The beautiful world, ya, how we must to grasp you
Ireland, Carrick-on-Shannon, present day
She was sitting on the parapet of the window, reading, enjoying the silence of her room. It wasn't very big and had only her bed, bookshelves full of books, a wardrobe, a big chest at the end of the bed and a desk. Under the desk there was a sewing machine and over it dozens of drawings of clothes. Outside the day was dark, and even though it was little past lunch time the sun light was weak, even at the window.
She was about to close her book when she noticed a raven flying outside, to her window. With a frown, she opened the window and waited, until the raven landed right in front of her and cawed. The girl frowned, listening carefully to those most interesting news:
"Are you sure?" she asked. The raven nodded. The girl left her book aside and looked around, excitement and happiness rising inside her; that was her chance! She imagined how happy she would finally be if she managed to learn how to better control her powers, how happy she would be when she was finally respected and accepted and even valued for what she was.
She didn't think twice and stood up, smiling widely:
"Will you show me the way?" she asked the raven, that nodded once more. She sighed. "Ok, I need to focus on this, can't screw up like the last time!" And she made a huge effort to concentrate. Slowly, she felt her body shrink and feathers replace hair, her arms became wings and a beak grew on her face.
Within a few seconds there were two ravens on the parapet. The girl, now raven, looked around, making sure she wasn't going with human legs or arm; seemed this time she had gotten it right! Cawing, both ravens took off.
The girl couldn't cover great distances without resting, so the journey was destined to take a while; maybe a week if she put all her effort into it. The girl and the raven stopped in abandoned houses, or in small woods, which means it took them one day and one night to cross the entire country, until they reached Dungarvan at the end of the second day. After staying in a small abandoned cottage, they left with the dawn and crossed the sea, to stop again in the seaside of Southwest England for a while, before crossing the south coast of England and the English Channel and stop again in Dunkerque; after resting a while they flew to the Southeast of Europe.
And after nine days of journey, resting only for brief moments now that the sea had been crossed and eating berries, the two ravens were flying on the Moldavian sky, and at the end of the day the ravens reached a small castle in the north of the country, near the mountains and a river valley. The raven told the girl they had reached their destination, and that from now on the girl had to go alone.
Moldavia, castle near the Dniester Hills
"The Three Musketeers," said Rasputin, smiling at his two most loyal and only remaining followers. "I wonder if there'll be any D'Artagnan...?"
They were in the dinning room of the castle, that had belonged to Rasputin's family and now was meant to be their headquarters for a while. It was a circular room, the ceiling was high, with ribbed vaultings, and the walls had one window each, with stained glass. There was a big fireplace in one of the walls, and in the wall opposite there was a door, the only in the room. In spite of the beautiful architecture of the building, the furnishings were poor and there were no servants.
Rasputin was sitting on a wooden armchair, looking at his followers with his empty eye sockets hidden behind a pair of sunglasses. He had been resurrected the day before. Ilsa von Haupstein was sitting on a small wooden stool at his right, smiling widely. Kroenen was sitting on the marble floor in front of the Russian man:
"What will we do now?" Ilsa asked eagerly. Rasputin rolled his beard on his fingers, thoughtful:
"First, we must gather information about our enemies. Only then can we focus on re-opening the portal," he said. "The library is full of books that might be helpful; they teach spells we can use to see the enemy and spells that can teleport us anywhere we need."
"Can we start now?" Ilsa clapped her hands enthusiastically. Kroenen just nodded. Rasputin smiled and stood up:
"In spite of my powers... I'm starving. And in spite of your powers, Ilsa, I believe you are starving too. So I suggest we eat something first. You can go ahead, Karl."
Kroenen sighed but nodded. He stood up and walked out of the dinning room. He crossed a long and well-lighted corridor, and he couldn't help but admire the colourful reflections of the stained glass on the floor. The ceiling was high and with ribbed vaultings, and one of the walls had full-length windows. There were no decorations. The corridor ended on a big and dark wooden door that Kroenen opened; it leaded to a small courtyard that could have been once a beautiful garden, but now the trees were dead and instead of flowers there were weeds, and the stone benches were just ruins on the ground.
Then a cheeky raven landed right in front of him. Kroenen halted, surprised, and tilted his masked head looking at the raven; that was new, animals didn't dare to come close! The raven just stared back at him, looking curiously at the masked man dressed in black. Annoyed with such insolence, Kroenen drew a small knife from a scabbard tied to his thigh. The raven tilted its head:
"Oi oi oi! Put that thing down, what the Hell do you think you're doing?" the raven asked indignantly. And Kroenen did let go the knife, because if it isn't not normal for a bird coming this close, a talking bird was even more unusual. The man gaped inside his mask and furrowed his hairless eyebrows. The raven was still tilting its head. "Thank you! Now tell me lad, where can I find Grigory Rasputin?"
Kroenen took his hands to his head; a talking raven that wanted to see his Master! A talking raven with the weirdest and ugliest English he had ever heard! How weird would it be to talk back to the raven?:
"What do you want, raven?" he asked in a hiss. The raven waved its wings in the air in a very odd way:
"I'm no raven!" it replied. Kroenen frowned even more, and just to be sure there was nothing wrong with him he rubbed the back of his gloved hands on the lenses of his mask; it was still a raven. He looked at the black bird for a moment, thinking and winding up his clockwork heart... and then he grabbed the raven with a movement too fast for the human's (and raven's) eye. "Ouch, you're hurting me!" the raven exclaimed and struggled, but is was useless. Kroenen turned around to where he had came and started to run, ignoring the raven pecking at his hand.
Ilsa and Rasputin were trying to warm a ready-made box of noddles in the microwave when Kroenen stormed into the kitchen:
"It's a talking raven!" the German man exclaimed, nearly shoving the raven on Rasputin's and Ilsa's faces:
"I'm no raven!" the raven exclaimed annoyedly, and it suddenly became bigger, bigger to the point that Kroenen had to open his hand. The wings were replaced by arms, the head became human, and few seconds later a girl was standing between Kroenen and Rasputin, her pale cheeks flushed with fatigue from the journey. Kroenen's chin would have fallen to the floor if his mask wasn't there to hold it in place. Rasputin and Ilsa gaped for him.
The girl was tall and slender, with sharp features and ghostly pale skin. She had waist-length wavy black hair, claw-like nails painted in black and emerald green eyes that seemed to glow due to the black makeup around them. She was dressed in black, wearing a bishop sleeve with an underbust corset, skinny jeans and high-heels. There were rings in every finger of her hands and two big loop earrings peeking from under her hair.
A small and nervous smile grew on her lips covered in black lipstick:
"See? I'm no raven!" she said. Kroenen was still digesting that. Ilsa was already taking the measure of the girl, with the most unfriendly expression she could use. Rasputin smiled, slowly:
"No, you are not a raven. You are a shapeshifter!" he exclaimed. His Gods had sent him a D'Artagnan! "What brought you to us, blessed creature?"
"A raven told me something big would happen, and there would be people who could help me to control my powers," the young girl explained excitedly. "Something big that would change the world, and all I had to do was to find Grigory Rasputin."
"You just found. A raven told you all of that?" Rasputin was still smiling. That was too good to be true; a new and innocent follower, one he, Ilsa and Kroenen could shape as they wished. The girl tilted her head to one side, just like ravens did when watching something interesting:
"Ravens do not lie, sir. I came all the way from Ireland, as a raven."
"Your quest was not in vain!" Rasputin pulled a chair and sat. Ilsa stood beside him and Kroenen joined her. "Now tell me, besides shifting into a raven, what else can you do?"
"I can shift into a horse. Well, mare..." the girl said with a little nervous giggle. She wanted to impress, so she focused and, in spite of the fatigue, she managed to transform slowly in a small black mare, but she didn't last much as an equine and became human again. "And... I can summon stuff from pockets, and bags. There was this day I had a mace in my pocket, it was epic! Let me see if I can..." And she slipped her hand into a pocket and felt something inside it. She pulled it out, but instead of a mace was a shield.
Rasputin's inexistent eyes widened with satisfaction; he had good use for that girl! He stood up again, smiling widely, and started to walk in circles around the young girl:
"Impressive! And useful! Tell me, little one... for how long have you had your powers?"
"Since I can remember."
"And how old are you?"
"Eighteen."
Rasputin laughed; that was too good, too good! He surely did something that pleased his Gods, otherwise they wouldn't have granted him such a gift. He placed a hand over the girl's head and entered her mind; only a little precaution... he just wanted to be sure she wasn't an enemy spy. In her mind, he saw some of her memories, a few of her experiences, and felt the feelings related to the things he saw.
He saw everything he needed and let her go, and just as he expected she had fallen to her knees and was looking ahead, with big wide eyes and panting. Rasputin patted her head softly:
"Your intentions are good... Seems ravens don't lie at all!" The Russian man sat on his chair again while the girl managed to stand up again.
Rasputin decided he liked that girl; young, innocent and with very little control over her powers... that was the perfect recipe to acquire a dedicated and grateful follower. Beside him, Ilsa crossed her arms and offered the young girl a smile; that was just a silly girl, she offered no threat and, to be honest, Ilsa actually missed having a feminine figure to talk to. Kroenen, standing with his hands behind his back, didn't like the girl; she talked too much and acted too childish, even though her gait and posture seemed those of a queen.
Ilsa decided to befriend the girl:
"So, what's your name?" she asked. The girl smiled again:
"Alma Kiernan."
"I'm Ilsa," The woman smiled and placed a hand over Rasputin's shoulder. "You already know him, and that is Kroenen."
Alma's and Kroenen's eyes locked for a moment, before the masked man looked away, suddenly annoyed. Ilsa made her way to Alma and wrapped an arm around her shoulders:
"Ireland is pretty far, I bet you're tired and starving! Kroenen, warm up some noodles for her too while I show her the castle," the blonde-haired woman said and nearly dragged Alma away. The masked man wanted to protest, but Rasputin was watching, so all he did was sighing and doing what Ilsa told him to do.
"There isn't really much to see, the castle has been empty for decades. Only the bedrooms and the bathroom had the furnishings. Kroenen and I arrived a week ago and had to buy some extra chairs, food and a microwave," Ilsa explained as she and Alma climbed the marble stairs to the first floor. Then the woman leaded the girl along a corridor with several doors. "So, basically this is the only habitable wing of the building; my room," It was the first room on the right side. "Rasputin's room," It was the first room on the left side. "...and your room!" Ilsa opened the door of the second room on the right side and Alma peeked inside; it was very big, with a Victorian-styled double bed, a huge wardrobe made of dark wood and a small dressing table. The room had a big window with blood-red curtains, a Slavic tapestry hanging over the headboard of the bed and, at a corner, a small door that Alma presumed belonging to the bathroom:
"This is deadly!" Alma exclaimed excitedly. Ilsa frowned and the young girl laughed. "Sorry, «deadly» is slang for «fantastic»."
"Oh. Well then... now let's see the library!"
"Doesn't Kroenen have a room?" Alma asked as they went downstairs and made the same way the German man had done before finding the girl. Ilsa bit her lower lip:
"Hm, how to explain... he likes... darker places. His... let's call it room, is in the basement. I don't like it much down there, so you better ask him for a guided visit," she explained briefly. "We are in a bit of a hurry because we have some... unfinished business. But once that's finished you'll be properly welcomed."
"'kay," Alma replied. They reached the courtyard; it was already night. Across it was a single and smaller building, the library, and Ilsa took out the key from a pocket of her trousers:
"Rasputin won't allow you to come here alone, at least not while you don't have a better control over your powers. These are all very powerful magic books," the woman explained as she opened the door. They stepped in and Alma looked around, amazed, to all those bookcases covered with books; it all felt like a dream. Ilsa referred to magic like it was something absolutely normal and perfectly factual. That was all what Alma had ever wished for:
"Massive...!" Alma muttered, then translated. "Great."
"Good, now let's eat! We just have noddles..."
They came outside and Ilsa locked the door again. They made their way to the kitchen, walking side by side:
"Anything is better than berries. All I ate was berries," Alma told:
"Oh, one last thing," Ilsa stopped and Alma stopped too, looking at her curiously. The blonde-haired woman smiled. "Everytime you address Rasputin, you have to call him 'Master', because he's our leader. You can call me Ilsa. Kroenen... you can call him Kroenen too, but don't be upset if you talk to him and he doesn't even look, he's just like that."
The young girl just nodded.
Rasputin and Kroenen were waiting for them in the kitchen. It was a big place, with two big fireplaces, but the only furnishings were a small table, a microwave over it, two chairs and a small cupboard between the fireplaces. The Russian man was sitting on a chair, Ilsa sat on the other chair and Alma sat on the floor next to her. Kroenen was leaning against a wall, looking down at his boots. Rasputin opened the microwave's door and handed the woman and the girl a box of noodles each. They ate in silence. Alma noticed, for the first time, a faint ticking sound, and looked around to look for the clock. But there was no one in sight. She supposed the clock was somewhere else; due to her shapeshifting powers, she had an hearing and vision as accurate as the animals she shifted into.
Rasputin finished his noodles and put the empty box next to the microwave:
"Alma, I suppose Ilsa told you we are a little busy at the moment", he started. The young girl nodded. "You will find I'm a very honest man to those who are loyal to me, but I can start by telling you there is a lot of work to be done with you. So I decided that, to reward you for your quest, Kroenen is going to... teach you your first steps in this brave new world."
Kroenen turned his head so fast his neck snapped loudly. Alma just nodded. Ilsa tried not to laugh. Rasputin seemed unaware of Kroenen's and Ilsa's reactions and looked at the masked man:
"I trust you our little one, Karl. And I know you will make a most wonderful job with her!"
"I... I don't even know what to say. Thank you, Master," Kroenen mumbled. Ilsa leaned in to Alma:
"I've always heard Irish people are short-tempered. Is it true?", she asked in a whisper:
"Quare. Like... very. Why?" Alma whispered back. Ilsa tried hard not to laugh; Kroenen having to deal with the girl would be fun to watch.
Alma closed the door of her room and allowed herself to smile like a fool; unbelievable, she had made it! These were people like her, and they had accepted her! She was finally going to learn to control her powers! She would have friends! The young girl trotted to the window and looked outside, to the dark Moldavian night.
She felt free, finally. Her nightmares and torments were now miles away. Now was the beginning of a new life. There would be something big, like the raven said, and Alma would be part of it. She was going to be part of something! The young girl still couldn't believe her luck!:
"Now, focus," she muttered to herself and sighed. "Now I live here. I need stuff," She slipped her hand into a pocket, trying her best to concentrate. "Black makeup," She felt something and removed a small purse from her pocket. The young girl opened it and giggled, delighted; black lipstick, black eyeliner, black eyeshadow, black mascara and black nailpolish. She left the purse on the dressing table and slipped her hand into her pocket again. "A comb..." And again, she was successful. "Now, clothes. Tomorrow is training day," And from her pocket she removed a pair of tartan cargos. She frowned and tried again, but instead of cargos she got an oversized t-shirt. She sighed. "Okay, fine... That will have to do. One more thing, I need pajamas," And her pocket gave her another oversized t-shirt and a pair of swim shorts.
Alma rolled her eyes, but better that than nothing.
Kroenen locked the door of his dungeon. It was a dungeon; big, icy cold, stone walls and floor and no windows and what was left of some fetters hanging on the walls. The place was illuminated by many torches and, in the middle of the dungeon, Kroenen had placed a small table with a chair. Over the table he had a gramophone. There was also a semi-built mask, and scattered all over the floor were mechanical parts, tools and, piled neatly at a corner, opera records and a few spare blades and a whetstone that had given him a hell of a work to find.
He pulled the chair and sat heavily, frustrated; the annoying girl! He had to babysit the annoying girl! Not only she was annoying, she had made a fool of him! And nobody made a fool of him and survived to tell the tale...
However, he shook his head vehemently; no, his Master was right! How could he even dare to question his Master? If Rasputin had said the girl would be fine with him (mostly like he would be fine with the girl) so it was true! He could dislike her, but seemed now she was one of them, and therefore Kroenen would have to obey his Master and deal with the girl.
The German man shook his head, thinking; now, what would be the best method to teach her place?
Weee, review?
