**Sorry for the wait people. I wrote this chapter about two days ago, then checked it and saw everyone was OOC. I had to check the character stats and make sure everything was cannon. Bleah. Hope I got it right…

Anyway, enjoy, and don't forget to review!!! I love knowing people read my work!! ***

(PS, apparently I also have to say that no one except Rigel and maybe some other OCs belongs to me.)

Hellboy stomped out of the forest, fuming. The kid was slung over his shoulders like a sack of potatoes, blood dripping down his face. Hellboy could smell it all over himself. Crap. Now I look like I freakin' killed the guy.

Abe Sapien was examining one of the tracks left by the creature they'd been sent to get. "Hmm… I'd have to say wendigo, though it could be some form of yeti…" He looked up. "Have you gotten the—what did you do?"

Hellboy dumped the blonde-haired teen into the snow. "It was an accident, alright?! I'm already going to have Manning chewin' me fer this, so shut up and keep 'm alive." He turned back. "I'm goin' to get that stupid wendigo." Abe walked over to the kid. "You didn't kill it?"

"No. That kid killed it. Just stop the bleeding." The demon stumped off into the thick growth of trees, muttering angrily about accidents and unfair punishments.

That kid killed it.

That was strange, to say the least. Taking out a sponge from his first-aid kit, the blue-skinned man carefully wiped the already-drying blood off of the boy's face. Crude, but hopefully effective. He gently pried open one of his eyelids.

A metallic grey eye, shining in the dimming northern light, warmly stared back at him.

Startled, Abe flinched back. He only drew near again once he realized the eye was unfocused. The poor kid probably has a concussion, he thought. Why can't Hellboy look where he's punching? The ichiyo sapien lifted the blonde into the back of the truck, setting him down gently on a fold-down cot inside.

"Jeez, this thing smells even worse when it's dead." Hellboy dragged the punctured grey mass out from the trees. Kicking some snow away, he dumped the carcass, along with some branches, in a heap. Flicking open his lighter, he set the thing on fire. Almost instantaneously, a cloud of horrific-smelling smoke enveloped him. "Shit." He stepped away.

"So. Find out who the kid is?" Hellboy sidled away from the burning wendigo. Abe shook his head. "Not really. There's no driver's license, school identification, library card—nothing. However, I did find this." He held out a tattered business card.

Flute retailers, USA, it said. A hastily scribbled note was at the bottom of the page. The demon read it aloud. " 'Rigel, no more impacts to flute in the future, and don't forget to polish it'." He raised a hairless brow. "That doesn't help us. The kid don't have a flute."

"He has a flute case, though the flute is missing. I'd say he lost it while you carried him here."

Hellboy shrugged. "Ah well. He'll just have to be thankful he's alive." He paused. "He is alive, right?"

"Don't worry. As much as you tried, the kid is still alive. We should get him back to headquarters, though." Abe got into the truck. "Quickly." Hellboy clambered in after him. "Would ya quit it with the murder remarks? It was an accident!"

The first thing Rigel became aware of was the fabric wrapped around his body. Skirting the barrage of pain in his head, he tried to come up with a name for it. Blanket? Yeah, that was probably it. Blanket.

Wait. I was in the woods. Where did the blanket come from?

Where am I?

Cracking open one eye, Rigel stared up at the roof of a truck. Rolling the eye over—he wasn't exactly up for opening the other one—he blearily gazed at two figures who were driving the truck. One was blue, the other red.

Red? Like that man who hit me? Oh, this could be bad…

Rigel hastily sat up. An explosion of pain and light came directly after that. "Owww…" Rigel leaned against the side of the moving truck, massaging his scalp. "Owowowowow."

The red man looked back. "Hey, yer up." His voice was husky and rough. "How ya feelin' kid?"

"As if I got hit with a brick. Why did you hit me?"

The blue-skinned man, who smelled and looked oddly like an humanoid fish, made a small noise that could have been a cough or a stifled laugh. Glaring at him, the demon-man scowled. "It was an accident. I was lookin' for a wendigo, and ya got in the way."

It was definitely the same man Rigel had decided to shadow before. The same energy evident in his movements was reflected in the speech and eyes now. Feeling his trust factor kick in, Rigel blinked. "Oh. Was that the grey thing?" "Yep."

Rigel stared outside for a couple of seconds. "What's your name?"

"Abraham sapien-Abe." That was the fish-like blue man. The demon-man narrowed his eyes. "Hellboy."

"Interesting names." Rigel smiled. Hellboy looked away. "Yeah, sure, Rigel." Rigel felt his grin dissipate a bit. "It's pronounced Ree-gull. Not Ri-gel."

"What kinda name is 'ree-gull'?"

"What kind of a name is Hellboy? No offense." Seeing the exasperation on Hellboy's face, Rigel decided to stay quiet for a bit. He shifted over a bit, so he could look out the window without hurting his still-aching head. He didn't recognize any of the landmarks they were passing. "Where are you taking me?" The question slipped out.

"The Bureau for Paranormal Research and Defense." Abe Sapien spoke this time.

"I've never heard of it."

"Yer not supposed to have, kid."

Slightly unsettled, Rigel fell quiet again. He still trusted the pair. His trust factor, which came when he was around certain people, had never been wrong before. But still…there was something that was tugging at his mind. Thinking, Rigel tried to figure out what. Finally, after what seemed to be an hour, it hit him.

Fingers trembling, he pulled the flute case from his back.

The familiar plastic-and-metal was bent and crushed in on itself. Apprehension building inside him, he pried it open, peering inside.

"Where's my flute?"

Abe looked into the rear-view mirror. "There was no flute when Hellboy brought you to the truck. You must have lost it somewhere in the woods." Catching a glimpse of the sadness on Rigel's face, he frowned. "Are you okay?"

"Yes." Rigel lied, slumping down. He was sad that the flute was gone, sadder then he had ever been. It was his only real remnant from childhood, before the Call came. And with being taken to this Bureau, it meant he had even less to remember his parents by.

He silently grieved until sunny-warm logic came to his mind. He had other ways of expressing the music inside him, though none were as good as the flute. And he still knew his family. He would survive.

The truck came to a halt. Jolted out of his thoughts, Rigel looked up. "Where are we?

"BPRD headquarters. Now come on, kid."

*Yay! An actual long chapter! Also, I decided to take a leaf from 'Tarja the wind witch' (Because I love her writing! You rock, Tarja! Oh, that was awkward…)and give you guys out there a chance to guess what and who Rigel is, just for fun. Anyway, please review, and take a shot at guessing if you want. I'll hopefully have the next chapters out this week, but I've got essays due at school, so who knows? Adios!*