A Tale of 'Demon' Rights

by epalladino

Trevor Bruttenholm considers Hellboy his son. How much are others willing to respect the status that this gives Hellboy? Do we owe respect to a demon? 'Part Two' takes place in 1949. Warning: Epilogue contains movie spoilers.

3. Part Three: Continuing the Crusade

Author's Notes: Part Three follows directly from the end of Part Two. Therefore the action begins late in the evening of Hellboy's fifth birthday on December 23, 1949. Part Three details a series of events between the end of 1949 and 1952—with a conclusion carrying forward the further course of the BPRD after this time. As some have noted, the events related in A Tale of 'Demon' Rights weave in and out of the events related in my earlier story Father's Day Gifts, but these two stories can be read independently of each other.

The main characters are, of course, not my own. This story is mainly informed by the time frame and backstories from Del Toro's movie. However, some details, including Hellboy's birthday, derive from Mignola's comic and not the movie. A younger version of Father Edward Kelly from the original Mignola comic insisted on making an appearance in Part Three. As far as I can remember, Mignola does not tell you how old the character is so I tried to come up with a plausible age for him; Father Ed is 25 in 1949.

Some of my own characters are merely functional—doctors, nurses, soldiers, etc. The character designated as 'L.' in Father's Day Gifts turns up as 'Lee' in some parts of A Tale of 'Demon' Rights. Neither represents this character's actual name. He wished to keep his function as liaison between the FBI and the BPRD separate from a budding political career in Congress. He is 30 in 1949 and remains the FBI liaison until the advent of Tom Manning in 1984. The character of Broom's assistant and secretary, who is mentioned in passing in Part Two, turns up by name, Paul Johanssen, in Part Three. He is around five years younger than Trevor Broom. At some point in his career with the BPRD he developed the same heart problems that had taken his parents when he was young. He stops working for Broom and takes a part time job in a religious goods store in Boston. Therefore, he is the same 'Paul' who sells Hellboy the box and rosary in Father's Day Gifts in 1956. The name is pronounced as if the first letter of the last name is a 'Y'.

I plotted out a lot of Part Three while on vacation, writing it out by hand while sitting at the beach. For some reason I had the feeling that Trevor Broom took over my pen and insisted on inserting certain plot elements that I had never originally considered. Once these things got into the plot they would not go away. Writing this was certainly an interesting experience. I suppose I can say, like a much greater author than I am, that this tale grew in the telling. Warning: In general most of the events of A Tale of 'Demon' Rights are my own take on the past relationship between Trevor Bruttenholm and Hellboy. However, the Epilogue that follows Part Three is more connected to events from the movie. Don't read it if you haven't seen the film and want to avoid some major PLOT SPOILERS.

A Tale of 'Demon' Rights: Part Three: Continuing the Crusade

Chapter One

Trevor Broom awoke suddenly and realized that he was still seated in the hangar that the men on the base converted into a 'movie theater' for Hellboy's fifth birthday. The demon Broom loved as if he were his own son was fast asleep sprawled across his lap and Broom was reluctant to wake him. He looked at his watch and noted that it was almost 11:00pm.

Somehow, despite the fact that Hellboy was very large for a five-year-old child, Broom managed to lift him up over his shoulder and carried him, still sleeping, out of the 'theater'. He trudged across the military base toward his bungalow wishing the two guards posted near there a good night as he walked past.

"Good night, Professor," said one of the guards. He then turned to the other guard, "Good God, I can't figure out how he manages to do that. He's not a big man and the kid must weigh a ton. That kid's right hand alone seems almost as big as the rest of him put together."

This other guard, who was still watching Broom slowly making his way toward the bungalow said, "I think Professor Broom is stronger than he looks. By the way, have you heard that a senator arrived today with a decree that Hellboy is to be removed from his custody?"

"Take the kid away from him?" said the first guard, "You have got to be kidding. I've never seen anyone care for anything as much as he cares for that kid. Why ever would they want to do that?"

"I think that it might have to do with those tests that Professor Broom won't allow to be performed anymore," said the second guard. "There's some, I think, that would rather see the kid dissected into bitty pieces than to allow him to grow up. You see how big he already is at five. Can you imagine how huge he'll be when he's full-grown? I think there's a lot of people frightened of what he'll turn out to be. But not Professor Broom. He seems convinced that the kid's going to turn out to be something really special."

Trevor Broom finally arrived at the front door to his bungalow. Just as he was wondering how he was going to open the door, it was opened from the inside by his assistant, Paul Johanssen.

"Good evening, Professor. I was working late tonight and decided to wait up for you. I hope your son enjoyed his birthday party."

"Yes, he certainly did, thank you," Broom replied. He continued speaking as he passed through the door, "Paul, since you are still up, do me the favor to wait for me until I put my son to bed. I need to speak with you."

"Certainly, Professor." Paul returned to Broom's still lighted office.

Broom lugged Hellboy, who now seemed heavier by the second, to his bedroom and placed him down gently on the bed. He didn't try to undress him, he just removed his belt and pulled off the boots he wore to accommodate his cloven hooves.

Broom then pulled up an olive-green blanket, stenciled 'US ARMY' in white letters, from the foot of the bed, kissing Hellboy on the forehead right below his horns as he adjusted the blanket. As he was doing this, arms reached up and hugged him tight.

Broom practically had the breath squeezed out of him by the strength that was in Hellboy's right hand. He submitted to the hug, but thought to himself that he was really going to have to stress again that his son do most things only with his left hand. Broom managed to extricate himself from the hug without any broken ribs.

"Father," Hellboy said unexpectedly, "Are they going to take me away from you?"

Broom hadn't realized how much Hellboy had understood about his altercation with the senator he had tossed out of his office earlier that day.

"Son, I promise that I will never, ever allow that to happen. I don't care if I have to spend all of my money. They will never take you away from me."

Broom turned to leave, "Now, go back to sleep. If you want to help me trim the Christmas tree tomorrow you will have to get some sleep."

Broom gently closed the door to Hellboy's room and made his way to his office. Paul Johanssen, a man who had been with him as assistant and secretary since even before his discovery of Hellboy, was still waiting for him.

Paul, like Broom himself, was not a military man. President Roosevelt had brought him into the brand-new Bureau for Paranormal Research and Defense because of his knowledge of psychic and mystical practices useful in counteracting attacks from things not of this world. Paul was an orphan who had also been the sole support of an elderly grandmother. This service in Broom's BPRD had been in lieu of military service overseas during the war.

Paul's grandmother had passed away while Trevor Broom had been abroad in 1944. When Broom had arrived back to the United States with Hellboy in tow, Paul had decided to remain in his service. He transferred along with them from military base to military base until they finally settled more permanently in New Mexico toward the end of 1945.

"Thank you for waiting, Paul," Broom said as he entered his office, "I am afraid that what I have to say will not be pleasant. I have never been anything less than pleased with your service to me, but I am afraid..."

"I am sorry to interrupt, Professor" Paul interjected, "But I already have an idea of what you are going to say. The senator who was here this morning was less than discrete. Before he left he had contacted the commander of the base and told him to expect the funds for your support to cease almost immediately."

"This was really the reason why I waited up for you. I want to assure you that I don't need a salary from you. As long as I can come up with enough to keep myself I would rather remain in your service. You and Hellboy are like family to me, the only family I have now."

Broom cleared his throat and then turned and looked out of the office window. It was pitch black outside and the only thing he could see was the reflection of his own worried face. He turned back to his assistant.

"Thank you, Paul. Things are not going to be easy. Remember I am not an American citizen and could be deported. You might not be able to accompany me even if we would want it."

Broom sat down behind his desk. "I really need to think what is the best thing I can do right now." He yawned and dropped his head in his hands, which were still sticky from all of the chocolate he had eaten earlier that day. After a moment he raised his head again.

"Paul, I know it's late, but do me the great favor to get a long-distance connection to Princeton, New Jersey." He reached in one of the drawers of his desk. "Use this phone number to make the call and tell me when the connection has gone through."

Several minutes later Broom was on the line with a famous scientist. 'Uncle Albert', as Hellboy called him, was also a very close friend.

Chapter Two

Trevor Broom went to bed a lot later than he had ever intended. The next morning both father and son slept late, so they were a little later than usual getting the tree decorated for Christmas Eve. Regardless of his concerns, Trevor Broom tried as much as possible to celebrate Christmas as usual for Hellboy's sake.

Broom had a small room in his bungalow that he had converted into a chapel. A good friend, Father Edward Kelly, a newly ordained priest, came to celebrate Midnight Mass for anyone who wished to attend this Catholic service. All left, when it was over, except Broom, Hellboy, and Father Ed.

Broom turned to the young priest, "Ed, I've got trouble. They are trying to take Hellboy away from me. They are planning to remove him from my custody at the end of next month. You can be sure I will do everything in my power to prevent this."

Father Ed looked down on Hellboy who was asleep in one of the chairs. "Why are they even considering this?"

"It's these tests," Broom replied, "They want to perform even more, the most awful tests you can imagine. I just cannot allow it."

"Is there anything I can do to help, Trevor?" Father Ed sat in one of the chairs and Broom sat in a chair between the priest and the still sleeping Hellboy.

"Yes, there is" Broom replied, "I want my son to be baptized."

"I understand why you would want this, Trevor" said the priest touching Broom's hand, "But I'm not sure it would be a valid sacrament."

Broom looked at Hellboy. "I know he is not human, Ed, but he is not an animal either. Does my son have a soul? How can we be sure that any being does or does not? Only God knows these things for certain. In all humility, I believe that at the worst the sacrament will merely be meaningless, but at the best, if he indeed has a soul, it will provide him a protection that will be more than I can ever give him."

The priest considered Broom's words. "O.K., I'll just get together the things I will need."

"Thank you, Ed," Broom reached down and woke Hellboy, "It will mean so much to me." He turned to Hellboy as he sat up sleepily.

"Son, Father Ed is going to give you a great gift this Christmas. He is going to baptize you."

Hellboy, whose idea of a great gift was some of his favorite comic books, looked at his father.

He had been taught the basics of the Catholic faith by Broom. But he was still a little confused.

"Father, what's supposed to happen when you are 'baptized' anyway?"

"You will become a part of God's family," Broom replied, "And will have a father in heaven as well as one on earth." He looked up as Father Ed returned. "Trevor, what name do you want to use?" the priest inquired, "I doubt you would want it to be 'Hellboy'." Broom almost laughed, "Regardless of what my original intention had been, I can only blame myself for him getting saddled with that name."

He thought for a moment, "I was named for my paternal grandfather. I can think of no greater way to honor the man who really was the one who raised me than to name my son after him."

He looked at the face Hellboy made and smiled at him, "Don't worry, no one will ever call you that. I know it's not exactly a popular American name."

Father Ed sat all of the things he needed on the altar and turned to Broom. "I've never baptized anyone yet so I don't have all of the ritual memorized. I'll have to use the book. You will have to stand in for both parent and sponsor. In a way you will be becoming your son's godfather."

Broom walked Hellboy up to the small altar. Hellboy could follow a little of what was going on because Broom had taught him some Latin. Father Ed went through the ritual and Broom made all of the responses. After Hellboy had been anointed and sprinkled with holy water, Father Ed had Broom kneel and gave him a special anointing for strength.

Hellboy watched his father who remained kneeling for a long time with his face buried in his hands. He was praying something that Hellboy couldn't quite hear, but he could see that his father was weeping.

Not being sure what he should do, Hellboy walked up to the priest who was packing together the book and other items he had used during the ceremony. "Father Ed, what happened was a good thing, right?"

"Yes, Hellboy" said the priest, "Very good."

Hellboy pondered this. "Then why is Father crying?" he asked after a little while.

The priest sat down on a chair at a little distance from where Broom was kneeling and placed Hellboy in front of him. "Sometimes things happen that are so overwhelming that the only possible response seems to be tears, but these tears are not necessarily ones of sadness or pain."

Hellboy, still somewhat confused, looked over at his father who continued kneeling in prayer.

"Father Ed, am I supposed to feel different now?"

The priest placed his hand on Hellboy's shoulder. "This is part of the essence of faith—believing that something has changed even when we don't feel it."

Just as Father Ed had finished speaking, Broom got up from his knees. It was not clear if he had overheard their conversation. The priest stood up as Broom walked over to him.

"Merry Christmas, Ed. Thank you, everything was beautiful." Broom gave the priest a quick hug. "It's so late I can't let you leave now. Please stay and have Christmas dinner with us. You can sleep in Hellboy's room. He can stay with me tonight."

Broom bent down and hugged Hellboy who returned the embrace using only his left arm as his father had discussed with him earlier that day. He then added his right hand, but very gently, wishing never again to inadvertently cause his father pain.

Hellboy closed his eyes as he hugged his father and contemplated the warm darkness within himself. Maybe he did feel just a little different.

"Merry Christmas, Son. Let's go to bed now. It's going to be a big day tomorrow." Broom switched off the lights and all three of them went to bed.

Chapter Three

The second Monday after the first of the year, a phone call came from President Truman. The president was displeased with the whole situation but was unsure whether to trust the recommendations of the congressional committee or to trust Broom, who he hardly knew.

President Truman had inherited the Bureau for Paranormal Research and Defense from President Roosevelt, but had not met Trevor Broom, its director, more than a handful of times. He had also never met Hellboy and was only familiar with him through conflicting information fed to him by others.

However, the president had recently received a phone call from Albert Einstein, plus petitions from dissenting members of the congressional committee. He decided that it would be better to bring Trevor Broom to Washington to meet with him before he made any decision. Broom begged permission to bring Hellboy to meet him and President Truman agreed.

Hellboy, who had hardly been off of the base since his arrival in 1946, was at first excited to go, especially as they were going to fly. He was upset when he found that he was to be transported in a large crate marked 'LIVE CARGO'.

Hellboy discovered this over breakfast the day before they were to leave. He was eating his usual breakfast of 'pamcakes' and milk, while his father was trying to coax a decent cup of tea from something called Lipton and swallow some awful corn muffin.

Hellboy threw down his fork, "The other kids get to go places all the time. I hardly ever get to go anywhere. Now you tell me I have to get stuck in a box? It's not fair. I hate you."

Broom put down the inedible muffin he had been trying to eat. "Right now no one hates me more than I do myself." He got up and walked out of the small kitchen.

As Broom walked toward his office he heard, from the kitchen, a loud crunching sound followed by the tinkle of broken glass. He returned into the kitchen and found Hellboy still seated at the table. His right hand held the remnants of the glass he had been drinking milk from. One slight squeeze of that huge hand had crushed it sending shards of glass and spatterings of milk everywhere.

Hellboy didn't move as Broom walked in. He just sat staring at his left arm which had several pieces of glass embedded in it. Broom went back out to the bathroom and returned with tweezers, alcohol, gauze, and tape.

Hellboy never said a word while Broom carefully pulled the glass out of his arm and cleansed and bandaged the cuts. Broom knew that by the next day these cuts would be almost completely healed.

After he was finished he said to Hellboy, "Son, I cannot really blame you for being angry with me, but this kind of behavior is something I cannot tolerate. Please, go to your room and I will come to speak with you as soon as I get this mess cleaned up."

Hellboy got up and left the kitchen. Broom heard him walk the opposite direction from his bedroom toward the front door of the bungalow and go out the door. He then heard him walk back in and go to his bedroom as requested. It took Broom about a half hour to clean up the kitchen. Paul, his assistant, had already gone ahead to Washington to arrange things for their arrival and Broom hated to disturb the other men on the base.

So he cleaned the kitchen himself. He managed to climb up onto a chair and use the mop he had been cleaning the floor with to get the milk off of the ceiling. The only real problem he had was in getting down from the chair. He leaned on the table and caught his left hand on a piece of glass that he had missed, giving himself a long, if not deep, gash on his palm.

Broom went to the bathroom and bandaged his hand. He then went to Hellboy's room. The room appeared to be empty. Broom sat on the edge of the bed.

"Son, these travel arrangements were not my idea. I only found out yesterday that the FBI was going to require me to transport you as cargo. Believe me, no one hates doing this more than I do. But if we don't get to Washington things will only get worse for us here."

Hellboy slid out from under the bed. He still said nothing, but sat on the edge of the bed a little ways from Broom as he continued speaking. "We all get angry at times. You must find appropriate ways to express that anger. What you did today was not appropriate. Not only did you injure yourself, but if someone had been nearby when you broke the glass they could have been badly hurt."

Broom glanced at Hellboy. He no longer looked angry, but Broom found it hard to read his expression. Hellboy was obviously struggling with something.

"Son, I understand that sometimes, especially in cases of extreme emotion, you can lose control of your right hand. I worry about this. You are growing very quickly. Soon you will be larger even than children who are much older than you. In just a few years you may even be larger than most of the adults around you."

"I, again, cannot stress enough that you avoid using your right hand unless absolutely necessary. If you do not learn this self-restraint you could really injure someone even without intending it."

Hellboy finally spoke for the first time since the incident. "Why can't I be like the other kids? Father, do you know why I'm so different from them?"

Broom stood up, "Son, come with me. I have something I would like to show you."

They walked out of Hellboy's room and went to Broom's office. Broom pulled a package that was marked 'Top Secret/Classified' out of a locked cabinet.

Broom removed a picture and handed it to Hellboy. "You must never tell anyone that you have seen this." Hellboy had seen this picture before, or at least a copy of it. It was of his father with a group of soldiers.

However, the picture he was now looking at was different in the fact that he himself as an infant was also in the picture. The copy that he had seen framed in Broom's bedroom didn't show this.

"This picture was taken on December 23, 1944" Broom continued, "That was the night I found you on an island off the coast of Scotland. You were just a baby then and the minute I picked you up I knew that I had to take care of you. I am afraid that the only thing I really know about you is that you are not human."

Hellboy's only clear memories were of the military base in New Mexico where they now resided. He looked closer at the picture trying to remember something of that night in 1944. He closed his eyes for a few moments and then opened them again. "Chocolate, someone fed me chocolate. Was that you, Father?"

Broom sat down in the chair behind his desk. "Yes, it was."

Hellboy walked over to him and took Broom's bandaged hand in his left hand. "I never meant for you to get hurt."

"I know you didn't," Broom gave Hellboy's hand a little shake, "Son, we live a sheltered life here. Most people we encounter are familiar with the unusual or unique. However, in the wider world outside there are many who feel threatened by anything different from them. I wish things could be different—could be easier for you."

"I am attempting to do some things that will change this. But it will take time. Remember what we discussed today about your temper and controlling your right hand. Now, go and play with your dog Mac. I have a lot to prepare for the trip tomorrow."

Chapter Four

The next morning after breakfast they took off for Washington. Broom made sure that Hellboy had enough room in the crate and had good ventilation. He gave him food and water and a collection of his favorite comics along with pillows, blankets, and a flashlight.

He thought his heart would break when men came aboard, closed the crate, and securely stowed it along with the suitcases in the rear of the aircraft.

The trip was a long one. They flew a circuitous route in order to refuel at several secret military bases before they finally arrived at another secret base in Virginia.

Paul was waiting with a truck when they arrived. Hellboy, who had fallen asleep in the crate curled up with the blankets and pillows, woke up as they landed. Four men carried the crate and suitcases out and placed them in the back of the truck.

Paul inquired how the trip had been. "It was a difficult trip," Broom replied, "Especially for my son. I want to go in the back of the truck and check on him before we leave."

When Broom was finished he got in the front where Paul was already behind the wheel and they drove away.

After about two hours they arrived at the place near Washington where Paul had found housing for them that was very private. Several secret service men were there when they arrived and they carried the crate into one of the bedrooms and then left. It was a government-owned house with two bedrooms, two baths, a living room, and a small kitchen.

Paul and Broom then got Hellboy out of the crate and Broom put him to sleep in one of the bedrooms. Hellboy was exhausted and fell asleep almost immediately. Paul informed Broom that President Truman was coming to their place of residence at 11:00am the next morning to meet with them. Broom was so fatigued from the journey that he went to bed in the room he was sharing with Hellboy without unpacking.

The next morning when Broom woke up he found his suitcases unpacked, his good suit pressed, and he could smell that breakfast was being prepared. Broom put on his bathrobe and went out into the kitchen. He usually didn't eat bacon and eggs, but this morning the smell was enticing. He had eaten very little the day before and was really hungry.

"Good morning, Paul," Broom said as he walked into the kitchen, "You should have called me rather than preparing all this yourself."

"You were so tired that I didn't want to wake you until it was necessary," Paul said as he set down another stack of pancakes in front of Hellboy who had woken earlier and was already eating.

"Hellboy helped me a lot by bathing and dressing himself when he got up." Paul then set the rest of the food on the table. Broom sat down and started in on the bacon, eggs, and toast.

Paul brought a pot of coffee over to the table and sat down to eat with them. He apologized to Broom for forgetting to get him tea, but this morning Broom was perfectly willing to drink the coffee. It smelled wonderful. Sometimes good coffee could be better than mediocre tea.

Since Broom seldom served coffee, Hellboy never had a chance to see it much. He was enticed by the aroma and Broom let him have a small cup of it. Hellboy found that he loved it and preferred it black. From that day on he insisted that coffee be served at breakfast.

While he was eating Broom found out from Paul that he had around two hours before his meeting with the president. This gave him plenty of time to get ready and to make sure that Hellboy looked his best.

Broom wanted to be as sure as possible that he wasn't too nervous about this meeting. He assumed that an appearance of calm determination would get him further with President Truman than appearing overly anxious. So he took a long, leisurely bath in very hot water. He always found this relaxing.

President Truman arrived a little early for the appointment. Broom and Hellboy were waiting for him in the living room. It was hard for the president not to notice Hellboy right away, but he decided that the best thing was to speak with Broom first. So Broom sat Hellboy in a chair and he and the president sat in armchairs on the other side of the room.

Trevor Broom and President Truman discussed all of the implications of the situation. Broom explained exactly how he felt about the drastic tests that some on the congressional committee wished to see performed on Hellboy.

"Few on the committee," Broom said in conclusion, "Have had a chance to meet with him or have taken the opportunity to do so when it was offered them. Some wouldn't change their minds even if I could show that he was an angel from heaven. He has proven an open and affectionate child to those of us who know him well. There are those on the committee who have accused me of not dealing with him with proper scientific objectivity. I will admit to this accusation. I consider him as if he were my own son, not a rat in a maze."

While he had been speaking he could see the president glancing over every so often at the topic of their conversation. Hellboy was sitting quietly in his chair reading the comic book that he had been reading before the president arrived.

"What I would like at this point," said the president, "is to speak with Hellboy himself."

Broom stood up. "Let me bring his chair over so he can sit with us." Hellboy stopped him.

"No, Father, let me do it. I wouldn't want you to hurt your hand again."

President Truman, who had not noticed the small bandage on Broom's left hand before this, was affected by the apparent concern that Hellboy showed for the man he called 'Father'.

Broom had been too busy recently to notice certain changes in Hellboy. As he watched Hellboy carrying the chair, he realized that his son was significantly larger than he had been even just a few weeks earlier. Broom doubted that he could now pick Hellboy up and carry him as he had done on the evening of his fifth birthday.

Hellboy placed his chair where Broom indicated. As he went to sit down he picked up from the seat of the chair the comic book he had been reading.

"So, Hellboy," asked the president, "What are you reading there?"

Hellboy held the book up, "It's Superman—one of my favorites. Father gave it to me for Christmas."

President Truman smiled at him, "Did you get anything else for Christmas?"

Hellboy smiled back at the president, a little more relaxed than he had been.

"Father gave me a lot of my favorite comics and a book about cowboys. I like cowboys, especially Gene Autry. The men that work with Father gave me cowboy boots. The ones I had didn't fit anymore."

"Did you get your father anything for Christmas?" asked the president, thinking that Hellboy seemed just like a lot of boys his age despite his odd appearance.

"The men helped me to get Father one of those neat Zippo lighters they all use," Hellboy replied, "It's the one with the Indian head on it. He doesn't smoke, but I figured he could use it to light candles or something." Broom reached into one of the pockets of his vest pulling out the lighter and showing it to the president.

President Truman looked at the two of them. What he was seeing today was not at all the picture that the majority on the congressional committee was trying to paint of Hellboy and his relationship with Trevor Broom. It was no wonder that people like Lee, the FBI liaison, and Albert Einstein wanted him to meet with Trevor Broom before making any decisions about Hellboy's custody.

Hellboy looked down at the comic book he was holding and then looked back up, bold enough to blurt out, "I want to go home. It's too cold here. New Mexico is lots warmer than this. I miss my dog, too."

"The FBI would probably let you go back to New Mexico," said the president, "but I doubt they would let Professor Broom accompany you. Would you want to go without him?"

Hellboy shook his head, "The other people there treat me O.K., but not like him. My right hand," Hellboy raised the huge hand slightly and flexed its four stone appendages, "Sometimes, when I get really mad, I can't control it and I break things without meaning to. Father tries to teach me how to use my right hand. Everyone else just gets scared of me when things happen."

Hellboy put his right hand back in his lap and looked down at it. "I told him I hated him," he said softly, "I didn't mean it."

He looked back up at the president. "He cut his hand when I broke a glass because I was mad at him. But he never yells at me because of things like that. He just talks to me about how I can be better. No one else does that. Father is the only one who really doesn't care that I'm so different. Please, let me stay with him."

Broom, who was intensely moved by this little speech of Hellboy's, got up from his seat and started to pace. "This is so frustrating. We wouldn't be having this conversation if he were human." He paused, "I apologize, Mr. President," he said after a deep breath, "It is difficult for me to remain calm." He sat back down.

"Please, Trevor," said the president, "There is nothing to apologize for. I would be upset too if I found myself in this kind of situation. However, I am in a bit of a bind here. I wish President Roosevelt had put the responsibility for your Bureau under the executive branch instead of under the FBI. When you deal with the FBI you have to deal with J. Edgar Hoover. I may still be president, but unless I am able to convince the FBI to change their mind about this, or in some way to change the status of your Bureau, your choices are limited."

"What are the choices I have?" Broom asked quietly.

President Truman leaned forward in his chair, "If you wish to remain director of the Bureau for Paranormal Research and Defense, keeping your full salary and status, you must comply with the congressional committee's dictates about the testing of Hellboy. Custody of him must be turned over to whomever they designate and they can deal with him as they see fit."

Broom started to speak, but the president held up his hand. "Let me finish. I will allow you to keep custody of Hellboy. Frankly, I am already leaning toward making you his permanent guardian. However, you must resign your position as director of the Bureau. Your salary will be cut off and all Bureau funding will be dispersed to the FBI until they assign a new director."

"If you choose this option," the president continued, "The dictates of the congressional committee will be considered null and void. You will have sole responsibility for all decisions dealing with Hellboy. For the time being I will allow you to reside in your present residence rent-free. Hellboy must still be hidden from the general public. He must make his primary residence here in the United States and may not be taken abroad without prior notification."

Broom sighed, "Can you doubt, Mr. President, which choice I will make? Thank God, I liquidated most of my assets before leaving England and can come up with enough money for us to live on for a long while. Paul Johanssen, my assistant, has chosen to remain in my service if something like this were to happen. He will, of course, be giving his notice to the Bureau."

Broom stood up, walked to a window, and looked out at the sunny, but cold day for a few moments. He then turned to face President Truman.

"I was so concerned that the government was going to forcibly separate me from Hellboy by deporting me to England and granting custody to the FBI by default. It certainly eases my mind that you will not be taking that route."

"However, I would like to make it clear that I am working on a more permanent solution to the issue of Hellboy's status as a sentient being. Through the assistance of people like Dr. Einstein, I have been in contact with the International Court of Justice of the United Nations. They have convened a secret panel and are already considering issues of his legal status."

Broom walked back toward his chair. "I hope my assistant will be allowed to return briefly to New Mexico to collect the rest of my belongings. I will, of course, leave all documentation about Hellboy with the Bureau files there, but would like to keep my own copies of such. Also, most of the books and relics collected there are my own personal property. I intend to remove these; it is quite an extensive collection. If the new director of the Bureau ever finds that he needs any of them he can spend his own money developing his own collection."

The president agreed to this and then stood up, indicating that the meeting was now over.

Broom leaned forward, "A word in your ear, Mr. President. There are strange rumblings coming out of South America, especially Argentina. Do not think that the Nazi menace has been totally defeated. In fact, you may find that the real war has yet to begin. What I defeated in 1944 may only be the prologue to a tale that may not end in either of our lifetimes. However, these Bureau matters are no longer my affair."

President Truman looked at Trevor Broom closely, "Is this something to be immediately concerned about?"

Broom led the president to the door.

"Let's say this, Mr. President; the FBI may have picked the wrong time to find out that I have been accomplishing a lot more than just being a father to Hellboy."

Chapter Five

During the year 1950, Broom, Hellboy, and Broom's assistant, Paul Johanssen, lived in the small house that President Truman let them use. Finances were tight, but manageable. Broom and Paul continued their researches into worldwide reports of paranormal activity, concentrating especially on odd occurrences coming out of South America. Broom managed, over Paul's objections, to pay him a stipend for his services.

Together they worked on raising and training Hellboy, who if he looked upon Trevor Broom as his father, came more and more to look upon Paul as a kind of 'uncle'. Sometimes Hellboy was lonely, especially for the school he had started to attend in June at the secret base where they had resided in New Mexico.

Hellboy, previous to that June, seldom had occurrence to interact with other children. To have had that opportunity cut off so suddenly was difficult for him. New Mexico had been the only home he had ever really known and he had been generally happy there. But giving this up was the only way he could stay with the man who loved him as a father.

There were other hazards to remaining in New Mexico that were not completely clear to Hellboy. He recalled vividly the painful and invasive testing that he had gone through before his father put an end to it. This previous testing may have been uncomfortable, but it had not been life threatening. Hellboy was mostly unaware of the much more dangerous testing that the congressional committee wished to subject him to.

Broom himself was certain that if this more dangerous testing were to be conducted, Hellboy would eventually be 'sacrificed', as researchers call it, and his remains dissected. Taking Hellboy away from New Mexico, no matter how happy he had been there, was infinitely preferable to his death in the name of 'objective scientific research'.

It was in this year that they resided just outside of Washington that Hellboy entered into his biggest and final growth spurt. Within the first two months of the year he had outgrown much of his clothing. Hellboy's appetite also grew, in size if not in the scope of foods he liked to eat, and the only way to keep him satisfied was with at least six meals a day.

Consequently, Broom's biggest outlay of his savings was on food and clothing for Hellboy. The food part of this was manageable. Broom would just buy enough food every week for a family of thirty and hope that would be sufficient to keep his son satisfied. It was the clothing that was driving him into the poorhouse. Broom swore that he would buy his son a new shirt and he couldn't even get it home from the store before Hellboy was too big for it.

In order to save money Broom took to purchasing clothing that was at least five times too large and then taking it in to fit. He would then let it out as Hellboy grew. Sewing was not one of Broom's talents. Consequently, Hellboy's clothing would often appear as if it was made by Dr. Frankenstein. This didn't bother Hellboy at all; as long as what he wore was comfortable he didn't care what it looked like.

It was also at this point that Hellboy started wearing that tan-colored leather trench coat that became part of his signature look over later years. He wore it almost constantly. For one thing, it covered over his odd looking clothing, for the other, after moving away from New Mexico, Hellboy often felt cold. The coat had originally been designed with a large bottom hem so it was easy to let down as Hellboy grew taller. The basic tent-like shape and the fact that Hellboy never buttoned it meant that he was able to wear the same coat for years.

Shoes were actually less of a problem. Broom had already become accustomed to adjusting adult-sized military boots to fit over Hellboy's cloven hooves. These hooves, for some odd reason, were the part of Hellboy that grew large first. Their growth actually slowed down as the rest of him started developing.

Unfortunately, Hellboy did rather quickly outgrow the cowboy boots he had received on his last Christmas in New Mexico and Broom just couldn't afford to replace them.

Before this time Hellboy had been almost completely bald. But he finally started growing hair, mostly on the back and sides of his head, which when it became long enough he pulled back into a kind of sumo knot. When he was somewhat older he also grew a goatee beard and sideburns, but always remained bald on the top of his head.

Broom and Paul had often worked with Hellboy in teaching him fine motor control, especially in the control of his right hand; and strength training to build his muscles. But as he began to grow so quickly, he was also developing a need for training in wrestling, martial arts, and self-defense techniques. Broom realized that they were both small-framed men and the needs of Hellboy's training were starting to exceed their abilities to teach him safely.

Lee, the FBI liaison, had kept in touch with Broom after his dismissal as director of the BPRD. This was partly because of his affection for Broom and Hellboy and partly at the behest of President Truman. Lee often acted as an intermediary between the president and Trevor Broom, limiting the necessity for direct contact. With his help, Broom obtained the services of two secret service agents who during the war had been specialists in hand-to-hand combat training and other personal combat techniques.

They were to work with Hellboy in developing the techniques he would someday have to use if he were ever to join in his father's work. Even though Trevor Broom was no longer the director of the Bureau for Paranormal Research and Defense, he still had a deep-seated feeling of responsibility to protect the world. It was always his plan to mentor Hellboy and help him develop his own talents as a paranormal investigator.

Even though Broom usually dealt with his otherworldly enemies using intelligent research and a few well-chosen relics, he recognized that Hellboy's greatest asset would be his size and strength. Hellboy would also come to wield a gun, which was very different from his pacifist father who abhorred all types of violence and weapons.

However, Trevor Broom was not naïve. Even though he detested violence for the sake of violence, he realized that Hellboy's essential temperament was very different from his own and would beget a completely different style of dealing with their foes. Therefore, Broom was not averse to Hellboy's training in most of the martial and military arts, including shooting.

Hellboy's primary problem in any kind of physical training was that, in more ways than one, his dominant hand was his right hand. In and of itself, that hand was one of Hellboy's major weapons; it had the size and strength of a sledgehammer, it felt no pain, and could not be damaged by any outside force.

However, its size in proportion to the rest of Hellboy's body meant that, in general, it was useless for any tasks that required delicacy of control—such as aiming and firing a gun. The problem that kept rearing its head, was that Hellboy was essentially a right-handed boy whose left hand had to be trained to do what he would, in the best of all possible worlds, have done with his right.

This virtually guaranteed that Hellboy would basically remain a poor shot, even though he came to do a lot of his fighting with a gun. This was one reason why the handgun he usually carried was the size of a small cannon. Hellboy always figured that shooting very large bullets would make up for deficit of aim. Also, if he missed, he could always use the gun as a kind of blunt weapon to beat his adversaries into submission.

In general, as a paranormal investigator and monster hunter, Hellboy would eventually become brawn to his father's brains. Their differences, combined with their individual strengths, almost perfectly complemented each other. Even though Hellboy had a tendency to fight first and think later—he was still his father's son; when he did need to think the education given him by his father did him good stead. Father and son would eventually become quite formidable as a team.

It was not originally Broom's intention to start training Hellboy at such an early age. But Hellboy would end up approaching the size of many adults before he turned six years old. Broom realized that this training would help Hellboy burn off excess energy and also help him hone skills that would become important later.

Of course, Broom thought that later would mean many years later. He had no idea that Hellboy's talents and newly developed skills would be needed sooner than he had ever expected.

After all, no matter how large Hellboy had become, he was still only five years old.

Chapter Six

With Trevor Broom and Hellboy out of the picture, the Bureau for Paranormal Research and Defense became an organization in name only. The people that ran and staffed it were just typical FBI agents who had little knowledge of what they were about. The agent who at the time was the head of FBI special operations became the director of this puppet organization within the FBI. Everything went along just fine as long as what they were dealing with could be tracked in the usual ways and killed in the usual manner.

However, by September of 1950 what was going on in Argentina had escalated to a point that left this ill-equipped organization floundering. Agents sent to Argentina starting disappearing, especially in the mountains and hills of Córdoba. The epicenter of the phenomenon seemed to be the German enclave of La Falda, especially concentrating around a resort called the Eden Hotel.

The few agents who did manage to get out of Argentina and return to the United States reported encountering Nazi soldiers who appeared to be totally invincible to weapons. Especially strange was the fact that if they were shot they did not bleed; they just dribbled a little sand out of their wounds and seemed little the worse for losing this weird 'blood'.

Agents who got lost in the mountains, at least according to the handful who managed to escape, were literally be-deviled by odd creatures of the night that appeared to be enamored of eating human flesh. There were also sightings of an Adolf Hitler who was very much alive.

Things became desperate in October of 1950. Trevor Broom had heard of a lot of this through his continuing association with Lee, who was still connected with what was left of the BPRD. However, his role as liaison was much reduced since the connection between the FBI and its puppet organization was so close as to seldom necessitate someone in his role.

Eventually Broom did receive a frantic phone call from the new director of the Bureau. Broom made his position clear in no uncertain terms. "I have my own concerns to deal with right now. The responsibility of the fate of Bureau is no longer in my hands."

Trevor Broom, in his younger years, had sworn on his fiancée's grave to spend his life protecting others. But at this point in time, Broom felt that his primary responsibility to this past vow was in his continuing struggle to protect Hellboy against those who would attempt to have him destroyed or limit his rights in other unreasonable ways.

At the time of the phone call from the new director, Broom and Hellboy were making plans to leave for Europe. The secret panel within the International Court of Justice, which was considering the case of Hellboy's status, had finally asked Broom to bring Hellboy to meet them.

Broom begged permission from President Truman to take Hellboy from the United States to The Hague, Netherlands where the court convened. He also forked out money to purchase Hellboy a suit of clothes to wear that would be less homemade looking than his usual garb and hoped that he wouldn't outgrow it before returning to the United States.

While they were there Broom made an impassioned plea for the court to accord a status to Hellboy that would put him legally on an equal footing with any human.

Hellboy then addressed the court panel himself and some attendant there were impressed both with his manner of speaking and the evidence of a strong bond of affection between him and the man he considered his father.

The panel then entered into a debate, assisted by an interpreter for those whose knowledge of English was not sufficient for communication with Broom and Hellboy.

Unfortunately, as Trevor Broom had earlier predicted, things were not going to be easy for Hellboy. Not everyone on the panel could get beyond his superficially hellish appearance. There were others who though sympathetic toward his plight either forgot, or were unaware, that he was not yet six years old—despite his recently acquired adult size. The members of the panel, both for and against Hellboy, started to barrage him with questions about his origins.

At one point he finally lost his temper and shouted, "Jesus! If I did know who my 'real' parents are, or where I came from before I showed up in Scotland, I would've told somebody a long time ago. It would've saved my father a lot of trouble." Being confronted by what looked to be a furiously angry demon gesticulating at them disconcerted many on the panel. What Trevor Broom noticed was that Hellboy gesticulated with his left hand and had kept his troublesome right hand firmly unmoving at his side.

After this minor explosion, Hellboy collapsed back down in his seat trying not to cry. He hated when he lost his temper like that; he hated being on the brink of tears. At first there was a shocked silence, then several members of the panel started talking all at once. Hellboy got back up from his seat. "Sorry. I'm sorry. I shouldn't yell like that. I just don't know any of these things." He turned toward Broom. "Sorry, Father." Hellboy sat back down.

This all happened so fast that Broom hardly had time to react before a less-than-sympathetic member of the panel stood up to address the other members.

"I do not see that this is getting us anywhere. I especially do not see the purpose of this court even considering giving any kind of status to an alien creature regardless of what its origins are. It is his affair, not ours, if Professor Broom wishes to anthropomorphize this creature and teach it to mimic human behavior. Our only consideration here in this court is the application and development of international law in support of human rights. By this very definition these rights do not adhere to this creature sitting before us." He sat back down.

Trevor Broom again stood up to address the panel.

"It was never my intention to teach my son to 'mimic' human behavior. Like all children he learned by imitation and example. The fact that he speaks English, loves Baby Ruth candy bars, cowboys, and Gene Autry films; and even occasionally sneaks a cigar when he thinks I do not know about it, are completely connected to how and where he was raised. In this he is no different from any one of your sons or daughters."

He walked over to where Hellboy was seated and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"I would hope that none of you have spent sleepless nights worrying that your child would be taken from you and subjected to life-threatening experiments; I have spent those sleepless nights. Laboratory animals have more protection in our resident country than does this sentient being I love as a son. There are so many things that I could wish for him; the most important is that he not live in fear of being treated as even less than these animals. In my opinion, if we take fellow sentient beings and classify them as having no enforceable rights we are perpetrating the kind of behavior that I so detested in the Nazis."

Another member of the panel jumped up. "How dare you compare us to Nazis or put this horned pet of yours on an equal footing with our own children?"

Broom sighed, "An equal footing with your own children is exactly what I am seeking for my son. The fact that he has horns is not germane to this issue. I apologize to the court, however; it was never my intention to compare the members of this court to the Nazis."

"Professor Broom," another panel member spoke up, "In the past we have never had occasion to consider the rights of non-human sentient beings. Now you are bringing exactly this case before us. I agree with your basic premise; justice demands that all sentient beings be considered to have the same rights that adhere to human beings."

This particular panel member was from England and was able to address Hellboy directly without the need for an interpreter. "Hellboy, I would like know how you feel about all of this. What do you want for yourself?"

Hellboy stood and walked up to the panel member who had just addressed him. He held his left hand out to him, which the panel member grasped in his own.

"I like you," Hellboy said, "You remind me of my father. He's the only one who ever asks me questions like that. You want to know what I want? I want to be just like everybody else. My father tells me I'm unique. I don't want to be unique. I want to be able to go to a playground and play with the other kids without them being scared of me. I want to look in a mirror and see a regular five-year-old kid; not a five-year-old kid who's taller than his father and has horns. But since that's not going to happen, I'll tell you what I really want: I want people to stop bugging my father. I really don't care much what they do to me as long as they leave him alone."

The man who he was speaking with looked closely at Hellboy, who was almost six feet tall.

"Are you really only five years old?" he asked in amazement, "You're so tall for that age."

"Actually, I'm almost six years old now," Hellboy replied. "I used to be kind of normal-sized for a kid, but right after my fifth birthday I just started growing. I don't like growing this fast," Hellboy raised his bothersome stone-like right hand slightly, "It causes for a lot of problems."

Hellboy spoke to this sympathetic member as if they were involved in a private conversation instead of being in a room full of other people. For some strange reason Hellboy expressed things to this man that he had never been able to share with anyone, not even Trevor Broom. All of the people in the room listened in an amazed silence.

Hellboy continued, "Until I was around five years old, I thought I was just like the other kids I knew except I looked different. Then a man showed up on my fifth birthday and nothing's been the same since then. My father lost his job and we had to move, all because he wouldn't let that guy take me away. I wanted to stay with Father, but maybe he would have been better off with me gone. I've been nothing but trouble for Father since he found me on that island in Scotland. He should have left me there. Things would have been better for him without me."

Even the members who had been unsympathetic to Hellboy earlier were moved by this heart-felt confession of a child who realizes that he is a misfit in the only world he really knows.

The one person who was the most agitated by this was Trevor Broom himself. He jumped up from his seat. "Hellboy," he shouted, "Stop that! Stop it right this instant!"

Hellboy swung around to stare at his father. Trevor Broom never shouted at him and he almost never called him 'Hellboy'.

"How dare you?" Broom continued, "How dare you even think that I would be better off without you? You don't know what my life was like before you came into it. It was empty and I was alone, always alone." Broom sat back down and tried to regain his composure.

After a few deep breaths he spoke again. "I apologize to the court for my unseemly outburst. I have to admit that it infuriates me to no end that he feels compelled, by circumstances totally beyond his control, to think that I would be better off without him."

He stood again and addressed the panel. "I have never had an easy life. I was not an orphan, but in some ways I may as well have been. I ended up being raised by my paternal grandfather, who unfortunately died well before I was ready to let him go. I then became engaged to a wonderful girl and thought my life was finally perfect. Because her family was from a higher class than my own, her parents objected to the engagement, and we had to endure a separation. My studies took me abroad and she became ill and died before I could return to England to be with her."

"After that, all I had was my faith and my work. Even though I loved my work and my faith was very important to me, it was never enough to fill the emptiness in my life. I was totally alone until that one night in 1944 when I held a baby boy in my arms; this same boy you see before you now. Suddenly my arms and my heart were full and I knew that my life would never be empty again; I knew that I would never be alone again."

While Broom had been completing this impassioned speech he walked over to where Hellboy was standing as if rooted in place. He was looking at his father, who was now at least an inch shorter than he was, as if he had never seen him before.

"Son," Broom said as he embraced him closely, "I cannot abide anything that threatens you, not even your own opinion of yourself. And even though I know that you never meant to hurt me, it does hurt me to no end that you could think I ever would be better off without you. Let's leave now. We have both bared our very souls before this panel. If that is not enough for them to make a positive decision on your behalf I do not know what more we can do."

This was eventually to be one of Trevor Bruttenholm's greatest triumphs. The panel after months of further debate made a unanimous recommendation to the United Nations on behalf of Hellboy. The United Nations finally issued a decree in January of 1952 declaring Hellboy of honorary human status and granting all rights to him that would pertain to this status.

Chapter Seven

After this heart-rending session with the International Court of Justice panel, Trevor Broom and Hellboy had returned to the place where they were staying in the Netherlands to find a telegram waiting for them.

Trevor Broom was being called back to the United States to again take up the reins of the Bureau for Paranormal Research and Defense. President Truman had finally become fed up with the current state of affairs in the Bureau. It had come to the point where he had either to close it down completely or tolerate what seemed to be a wholesale slaughter of FBI agents in Argentina.

The president was unwilling to accept either of these choices. He forced upon the FBI a change in the status of the Bureau. Rather than being an organization directly under the control of the FBI, President Truman turned it into a semi-autonomous, if secret, Bureau within the Dept. of Justice, the parent organization of the FBI. However, close ties would still connect it to the FBI in the providing of funding, support, and a supply of specially trained agents.

It was now the beginning of December of 1950. Trevor Broom and Hellboy were to return to Washington just long enough to wind up their affairs there. Broom was to be given almost compete authority to run the organization in any way he saw fit. He would be given the funding to be able to use his extensive connections and reputation within the world of paranormal research and psychic phenomenon to bring in the best experts that he could find.

A brand new headquarters was being established in a secret location in Boston, Massachusetts. The facilities were to be well staffed, with an extensive infrastructure of supportive services. Gone were the days when the Bureau was a bungalow in New Mexico staffed by Broom, his assistant, and a handful of soldiers.

Trevor Broom, Hellboy, and Paul, who still continued as Broom's assistant, moved into these new facilities in January of 1951. 'Lee' was to continue as the liaison to the FBI during the Bureau's decade long tenure in Boston and continued with the organization when it shifted to much more extensive headquarters in Newark, New Jersey in the early 1960s.

There was one absolute condition that had to be fulfilled before Trevor Broom allowed himself to again take over the reins of the BPRD. He refused to return to any connection with the FBI until he was granted sole permanent custody of Hellboy. He was especially insistent on this because, at this point in time, the United Nations had yet to make any declaration on Hellboy's status. He also insisted that the federal government agree to continue to support Hellboy after he was gone. President Truman agreed to all of this and, right after the beginning of the year in 1951, Trevor Broom was officially and permanently designated as Hellboy's adoptive father.

Trevor Broom, as director of the BPRD, was ensconced, in both Boston and Newark, in facilities that made him look to most eyes like a wealthy man. He was able to conduct his research with the best available technology, further expand his already extensive library, and live in comfort.

Most also thought that he made a large personal salary. He did not. As far as Trevor Broom was concerned he had been required, in January of 1950, to make a choice between his salary and his son. He had chosen his son and, upon return as director of the BPRD in 1951, refused ever again to accept a personal salary. Broom wanted nothing more from the federal government than a place to live with Hellboy, food to put on the table, and funding to run his Bureau.

Upon his death many decades later, Trevor Broom was found, in terms of his own personal wealth, to be virtually a pauper. Yet, he felt that as long as he had his faith, his life's work and, especially, his son his life was a completely full and rich one.

Chapter Eight

Broom attempted to get this new version of his Bureau up and running as quickly as possible. What was going on in Argentina was his most immediate concern. He made several trips to South America. Even though he seldom went off on field investigations any more, his presence there was instrumental in the establishing of secret bases for his agents to use in foraging into Argentina to research and, if possible, curtail and control what they found going on there.

Broom and Hellboy hated being separated from each other when Broom went away on these trips. In early November of 1954, when Hellboy was almost ten years old, Broom decided to allow Hellboy, supervised by other senior agents, to accompany him to Argentina. The training that Hellboy had been receiving since age five and his sheer size and strength made him a valuable asset, even though he was still short of his eventual full size.

It was on this trip that Hellboy first evinced the bravery, loyalty, and tenacity that would mark his career as a monster hunter and eventually caused him to be designated 'The World's Greatest Paranormal Investigator'.

Hellboy would often object when people conferred this title on him. "If you want to talk about a 'great paranormal investigator', that's my father, not me. I just beat the crap out of whatever he points me at." However, there were those who could see the justice of this title being conferred on both father and son.

The one thing that most impressed others about Hellboy was his courage in the face of impossible odds. He may have been invulnerable to most physical assaults, but he was not indestructible.

There were many times, starting right with this year of 1954, when he would insist on going alone against creatures who were as strong or even stronger than himself in order to protect the lives of the human agents he worked with.

It was also on this trip that Hellboy first starting wearing the rosary that in later years could always be seen hanging from his belt. This rosary had been a gift from his father when Richard James Cushing, archbishop of Boston and a personal friend, had come to the BPRD headquarters in 1953 and conferred first Holy Communion and Confirmation on Hellboy. He was the only prelate high in the Catholic hierarchy that had ever known that Broom had Hellboy baptized when he was five years old.

One good thing that had developed out of allowing Hellboy to work as a supervised field agent at this age was that it alleviated the loneliness he often felt. He became very attached to the other field agents he worked with, often jeopardizing his own life for theirs and grieving immensely for the agents who were lost in the field.

These men also developed a strong affection for Hellboy, often dubbing him with affectionate nicknames: 'Red', 'Big Red, and 'H.B.' being favorites. In a way these men became surrogates for the companionship that he had lost in the move away from New Mexico.

Yet, there was an unfortunate development from all of this as well. In the camaraderie that developed between Hellboy and these much older men, their influence on him was not always a good one. Some of these agents, especially the ones stemming from the FBI, could be intelligent, sophisticated men of some learning, but Hellboy did not find these men half so interesting as the men who stemmed from military backgrounds. These men reminded him of the soldiers who had befriended him as a child in New Mexico.

Spending a little too much time in the field with these men, instead of in the well-mannered, but less interesting company of his father, began to cause a change in Hellboy that Trevor Broom did not like to see. It wasn't so much the smoking, drinking, and swearing that his son was starting to indulge in that bothered Broom. That was easy enough to monitor and control.

It was more the general coarsening of Hellboy's character that bothered him. Hellboy's attitude became a lot more abrasive and cynical; even his way of speaking became more inarticulate as he started to imitate the vocal behavior of some of these less educated men.

It was also at this time that Hellboy decided to get rid of the horns he so detested having. One day Hellboy had stayed in his room for a long time. He didn't come to breakfast or lunch. Even though he almost never got sick, Broom began to be concerned that something was wrong.

Twice he knocked on Hellboy's door and received no answer each time. But when he tried the door it was locked. So he knocked harder and called out, finally receiving a muffled answer. "Go away, I have a headache."

"Are you sick, Son? Do you need anything?" Broom called through the door. Hellboy answered, "No. No, I don't need anything. I just have a headache. Go away."

Even though he was still concerned, Broom went away. Hellboy never came for supper either, but Broom decided to let the whole thing go after he found that Hellboy's door was still locked. He figured that sooner or later he would find out what was really wrong. So he went to bed.

Hellboy came to him in the middle of the night. "Father, my head, it hurts. I can't get it to stop hurting." Broom woke from a sound sleep to find Hellboy kneeling by his bed holding his head in his hands. Looking at Hellboy in the semi-darkness, Broom knew immediately that there was something different about him. "Son? Son, what happened to your horns?"

Hellboy groaned, "I didn't want them anymore. I wanted to look more like everyone else. So I broke them off and tried to use a big file to sand them down. But I didn't know it was going to hurt so much."

Broom sighed, "Son, we better go to the Medical Wing and have you checked out. I hope that you haven't done yourself some real damage. You are lucky, that unlike some animals, you do not seem to have major blood vessels in your horns. If you had you could have bled to death."

Later in the Medical Wing, after Hellboy had been given some kind of pain reliever and the pain was receding, he asked his father if he didn't think he looked a lot better without the horns.

"Son," said Broom, "I can't say that I am particularly pleased that you injured yourself for the sake of your appearance. Yet, I understand that this issue has been a particularly troublesome one for you. Dr. Thomson assures me that you have done no permanent damage to yourself and this sensitivity will fade after a time. He does recommend waiting a few days if you wish to try to file your horns down further. As for the way you look: I did not love you because you had horns; I loved you regardless of that fact, and will love you just as much now. If you prefer to be without them, so be it."

Trevor Broom wasn't the only person in the BPRD to notice a change in Hellboy's behavior. Things really came to a head in the June before Hellboy's twelfth birthday in 1956. Hellboy was generally careful not to be directly disrespectful to Broom, but after a while his disrespectful attitude toward his father become noticeable to almost everyone. When the issue of Father's Day came up he said some things about his father that people were very careful not to repeat where Broom could hear them.

Paul Johanssen was the only person that Hellboy had been close to who at the time was generally unaware of this issue. He had a bad heart attack in the previous year and had to resign his duties with the BPRD. Hellboy often missed Paul; he was a good influence that was missing in Hellboy's life at that time. Even though Paul occasionally came to visit, he now had a part-time job as manager of a religious goods store that kept him busy. Broom often visited this store, but never complained about Hellboy when there.

One day Hellboy was in his quarters watching a new television that his father had picked up for him recently. He was smoking a cigar and watching some episodes being broadcast of the old cartoon Felix the Cat. There was a knock on his door and thinking it was his father he tried to get rid of the cigar before he walked in. However, it wasn't Broom, it was Lee, the FBI liaison.

"Hellboy," said Lee, "Don't bother trying to get rid of that cigar. You can smell it a mile away, anyway."

Hellboy grinned at Lee and continued to smoke the cigar. "Lee, it's been a long time since you've been around. How're you doing, anyway? It's good to see you."

Lee sat down on the rumpled couch next to Hellboy. "I wish I could say the same thing about you, Hellboy. You're right; it has been a long time. I have to say that I was looking forward to seeing you again. But now that I'm here, I can't say that I like what I'm seeing. Or what I'm hearing about you. And I'm not talking about the smoking and drinking, either."

Hellboy took another puff on his cigar and leaned back. "It's this Father's Day crap again isn't it? Well, I'm tired of hearing about it. I don't want to listen to another lecture about how I should be buying poor Father some stupid gift. So why don't you just buzz off?"

"Don't worry, Hellboy," said Lee, "I'm not planning on giving you some long lecture. I think it would be a waste of breath, anyway. I think its time that you started thinking some things out for yourself for a change. But before I 'buzz off', so to speak, let me put a bee in your bonnet and give you something to think about. Remember, I was there on your fifth birthday. I would hope that you remember that day in New Mexico as vividly as I do. I would hope that you remember what happened that day and what happened afterwards."

Lee got up to leave, "You think about it for a real good long time, Hellboy. See if you don't think that 'poor Father' deserves some kind of gift from you for all the trouble he went through on your behalf. And you see if you can't come up with a gift that he would like, instead of buying him Zippo lighters and things like that just because it's what you like. You've been grumbling about him not being your 'real father'. Well, how much more of a 'real father' do you want than someone who practically gave up his entire life and fortune for your sake?"

"Look, Hellboy, I'm going to be around for a few days. When you're done thinking about everything, come to me and I'll take you anywhere you want to go to pick out a gift. I'll even help you buy it if you're short of money."

Hellboy did think about it. He sat up all night staring at the television set his father had given him for no particular occasion except that he loved him. He just couldn't believe how much he had allowed himself to forget about his father. The next morning he looked Lee up and told him that he thought he knew something his father would like. Later that month, he didn't think he ever saw his father so happy as when he gave him that beautiful carved box and rosary that Lee had helped Hellboy pick up from Paul's religious goods store in Boston.

Things went along much better after that time. On Hellboy's birthday that same year in 1956, Trevor Broom received an interesting visit from the now retired senator who had given him so much trouble on Hellboy's fifth birthday. Broom didn't know what to make of this unexpected visit but, not wishing to appear rude, invited the senator in for a cup of tea. On this particular birthday Hellboy was not around, since he was still on his way back from a long and desperate forage into Argentina. Broom missed him very much and was glad that he was on his way home safely. He hated being apart from Hellboy on his birthday and around Christmas.

The senator sat stirring his tea without saying anything for a few moments. He then looked up and addressed Broom. "My wife and I cannot thank you enough for the excellent work that your organization is doing in Argentina. My son, Steven, our only child, works for the FBI and, though not directly associated with your Bureau, had been sent into Argentina to work with your agents. He was unfortunate enough to become trapped in the mountains by some terrible creature and if not for the resourcefulness of your own son, Hellboy, I would no longer have a son."

The senator stopped and nervously took a sip of his tea. "My son talks of nothing else except in praise of Hellboy. In fact, Steven claims that Hellboy single-handedly fought this creature and, when his gun malfunctioned during the fight, continued to fight against it using nothing but his fists until he finally defeated it. He then carried Steven, who had a broken leg, miles through the mountains to the nearest enclave of your organization. Steven also tells me that Hellboy asked after you and wished to have a message sent to you that he misses you and wishes that he could have been home for his birthday and the holidays."

He took another sip of his tea. "Professor Broom, I am so ashamed of my former attitude toward Hellboy. The child I once described as a 'monster from hell' had become an angel of protection for my son. I cannot tell you how sorry I am for the trouble that I have caused you and Hellboy in the past. Believe me, I am not an evil man. I abhor that which is evil and at the time I had foolishly convinced myself that what I was fighting against in Hellboy was truly evil; that we would be better off ridding ourselves of such a creature. If I had succeeded in destroying your son where would my son be now?"

Broom raised his hand, "Senator, I never thought you were an evil man. You were merely an ignorant one and, thank God, ignorance can be taught. I understand only too well that outward appearance can be hard to see beyond. I have been fighting against that on behalf of my son for most of his life."

Broom poured the senator another cup of tea and offered him a biscuit. This was a much better tea than he had once been plagued with in New Mexico and the biscuit was actually edible.

"I am grateful that the Almighty has seen fit", Broom continued, "to gift me with an ability to recognize evil when I see it no matter what garb it is dressed in. It has been very useful to me in my line of work. I am very seldom fooled by outward appearance. That was the one thing that so impressed me with Hellboy when I first encountered him as an infant; despite his outwardly hellish appearance there was no inherent evil in him. Like all children he was a blank slate for some other hand to write on. That may not have been what the person who originally conjured him intended, but that is what happened. I see the hand of Providence in this and have tried to the best of my ability to love him and raise him to be a force for good in this universe."

The senator stood. "Professor Broom, I believe you have succeeded in that task."

"Before I go I have a gift for your son." He handed Broom a package. "Hellboy gave my son the gun that he had been carrying in Argentina as a kind of souvenir since the damage to it was irreparable. My son tells me Hellboy made a joke out of calling it 'The Good Samaritan' since it used only special bullets designed for the killing of monsters and demons. My family fortune stems from gun-making and I have had this gun replicated."

Broom opened the package and inside found a beautiful handgun that was more than a mere replication of the original. It had a beautiful wooden grip with the sword-in-fist logo of the BPRD and was contained within a box that had the same logo and the words 'Good Samaritan' carved on the outside. This ended up being a favorite gun that Hellboy would carry for decades.

Afterward

The decade of the 1950s ended up being one of the busiest for Broom's Bureau because of the 'occult wars' being conducted against the Nazis in Argentina. These wars came to an end in 1958 when Hellboy, in one of the greatest triumphs of his career with the BPRD, beat a cybernetic Adolf Hitler to death with its own mechanical leg. The Second World War, which many thought ended with the death of Hitler in 1945, had finally come to an end.

However, there was plenty of work left for the Bureau for Paranormal Research and Defense in the cataloging of and, if necessary, intervention in supernatural occurrences from all over the globe. Hellboy remained one of the organization's top field agents, finally becoming a fully independent one in 1965 after the Bureau's move to Newark, New Jersey.

Trevor Broom had always had a slight limp due to being shot in the leg in 1944 by some Nazi soldier on that island off the coast of Scotland where he had first encountered Hellboy. The enforced bed rest in 1959 due to his long hospitalization for cancer exacerbated a latent arthritis stemming from this wound and Broom ended up using a cane for the rest of his life.

Broom had, before this year, always kept his explanations to Hellboy of his origins somewhat vague. At first this was because he thought Hellboy too young to understand; later Broom just found it easier never to address this issue. After he had been so ill in 1959, he realized that it was time that Hellboy knew everything that Broom knew about his origins.

So on December 23, 1959 Trevor Broom called Hellboy into his office. Hellboy had been expecting some sort of special celebration for his fifteenth birthday; instead he received an account of what actually happened on December 23, 1944 on that island off the coast of Scotland.

It is no understatement to say that Hellboy was dismayed at the probability of his actually being a demon from hell. He interrupted Trevor Broom from something further that he was going to say.

"Father, why didn't you just have me destroyed right then and there? How do you know that I'm not really evil, or that I don't have some evil hidden within me that I don't even know about?"

"Son," Trevor Broom replied, "That is exactly the one thing that do I know for sure about you; you are not evil; of that I was firmly convinced on that evening in 1944 and I am just as convinced about that now. What the people who did this conjuring intended on that evening is no longer pertinent to me. I am firmly convinced that in some strange way God has sent you to protect the world and it is my duty to raise you, love you, and prepare you for this task."

"Good," said Hellboy as he walked out of his father's office.

As far as Hellboy was concerned this was as much as he would ever need to know about himself—He was the son of Trevor Bruttenholm.