Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. Mannings summoned Hellboy one or two times, but Hellboy ignored those summons, resulting in a pink-blotched Mannings waiting outside his door. Mannings tried different methods of 'ordering' Hellboy to go on some training exercises, but he failed every single time.

It wasn't that Hellboy didn't want to go on some of those exercises; hell, he felt the pain of missing out on some of them. Some of the agents were real good guys, and they'd share one or two buds when the job was finished. And Hellboy did itch for some action. Shoot some chucupbras, or flush out some ectoplasam – he didn't care about what spooky shit went bump in the night, as long as he could bump it over with his handy fist, if his gun didn't work.

Just one little mission, even if it was for an old lady's ghost cat outta a tree – except Weaver was practically on every mission now. And apparently doing very well; even Abe forgot the unspoken taboo subject and talked about Weaver's 'skills' for 15 minutes until Hellboy turned the radio up high. Heck, Hellboy couldn't hold a conversation with anyone lately without them interjecting with a comment about Weaver, thinking Hellboy would be interested. Fucking hell. Hellboy wasn't interested in some weird kid, not even if when she took down a half-ton bogeyman (Hellboy took down a whole ton, and even that was easy – just took a bit longer) or that she was good at telling jokes over cider (which was weak ass, cider was just apple juice and beer was the best).

Hellboy did take note of some of the gossip; that Weaver wasn't quite normal – that some odd occurrences were cropping up inside and outside the missions. Hellboy allowed himself to feel a bit of a hope; he was going to be proven right – and the kid would be kicked off the roster. Then he would be able to chill and enjoy life shooting monsters and buds and watching old films with Liz. But nothing happened, even on that particular day when Hellboy was watching Highlander with the IT gang. One of them, Cid's third-right-handed man and known for his collection of Spanish comics including questionable ones, spoke up during a lull in the movie.

"Hey, hey, you know that Weaver? I just heard something today, something totally awesome! Hey, so I was at big head's office today to resubmit the revision of the budget again, and then Weaver came in…"

The geek went on to describe how he was 'press ganged' into setting up a recorder and being a witness – you wouldn't have known how it inconvenienced him, for the excitement in his voice – to Weaver's formal confirmation that she possessed skills of the supernatural sort.

The popcorn on Hellboy's lap went flying, and several of the geeks loudly exclaimed their dismay at the waste, but Hellboy was already making a fast exit. Then he returned back a few seconds later, trying to be best nonchalant as he could, to ask where that particular recording would be.

Later, Hellboy made sure Liz was sleeping deeply, and gently withdrew from the bed. Tip toeing over to a decent mess of technology in a nearby armchair, Hellboy tried to be quiet as he searched for a particular item; a walkman. He found it, along with a pair of earphones, all looking good apart from a few cat-teeth nibbles on the strings.

In the bathroom, with the door slightly open (if Hellboy locked the door, then the cats would demand entry into an area immediately to find out why the door was closed in very loud protestations) Hellboy sat on a chair next to the sink counter he'd prepared before, with a note and pen. He was going to prove it this time, that was for sure. Drawing out the cassette from the small gap between the mirror and the green tiles, Hellboy dusted the lint off it and inserted it into the walkman. With the wired buds in his ears, he carefully switched it on, testing the volume until he found the right measure. A bossy black and white tom reached up on his knee and tried to swipe at the walkman, but Hellboy pushed the cat away and focused on the voice.

"…working? Why do you even give me your budget when you don't know what you're doing?"

That was Manning, berating the geek as per usual. Too bad Manning didn't use personal computers or other devices, otherwise he'd have a lot of trouble asking the IT geeks for help.

"Yes sir, no sir, it's working, sir, can I go now?"

"No. You are here as a formal witness. State your name now!"

"Sir, sir, I'm, ah, Brett Saunders, age 26…"

"Your position!"

"IT technician, sir! Under BPRD's IT department, going on for -"

An exasperated growl came, and then a third voice came on.

"It's alright, this is just a little bit of formality, yeah?"

Hellboy hit pause on the walkman, digesting the sound. That was the kid's voice. It sounded… different. Hellboy looked down at the walkman, unsure whether he wanted to proceed. Someone didn't change so fast in half a year. Yeah. Hellboy was there, to protect his father's BPRD, the… principle about it, to protect the world from supernatural forces. And influences. Taking another deep breath and shooing away the pesky tom, Hellboy hit play.

"…sorry about this, Brett. We'll do this quickly, now. Okay, I'll start first."

"My name is Elizabeth Weaver, a field agent on probation since February of 1995, BPRD code 9855513. In the presence of Acting Head of BPRD, Manning and witness IT technician Saunders, I formally declare the confirmation of my supernatural skills, which I use in the field."

"I henceforth make a verbal contract that I shall not misuse my powers, not to harm civilians and authorities, to use my skills under the BPRD agency to ensure the safety and wellbeing of mankind and those vulnerable and in need of assistance."

"Anything else, Manning?"

A loud sniff sounded on the tape."No, that sounded good. Just a small formality. There'll be a properly written one later on."

"Yes, sir."

"Well! Now, I'm going to be on the television again in a few weeks, and I wanted to… Sandman, what are you doing?"

"Sir? Saunders, sir?"

"Go and process that tape now!"

The tape went silent, and Hellboy scowled down at the walkman. Fat a lot of a freaking good information that was. Nothing about what the kid's weirdness could be – just another nail in the coffin for the future of BPRD, with the kid becoming a formal agent even with her weirdness!

There had to be some other way, something else, but Hellboy was feeling fuzzy and grumpy and thirsting for a bud before bed. He chuckled at the pun in his head, gave the walkman another scowl, and threw it into the wastebasket by the toilet.

It was only two days later when Abe came to his room, which was a rare affair given that Abe found it uncomfortable with the collective attention that Hellboy's cats gave, as well as the amount of cat hair that collected on his clammy shins. Abe informed Hellboy that Weaver was coming down to the library in a few moments to look at some books by a special request.

Hellboy wasn't happy, but he was too aware of Abe silently measuring him up – Hellboy knew his best bud would never betray him or break his promise not to talk of Weaver or to use his 'sight' to see what had happened. Not that anything had happened.

Liz was out, doing some shopping and getting some fresh air, and wouldn't be back until the evening – even with her, Hellboy wasn't sure if he was still in her good books. After all, Liz didn't really do 'shopping', but things were still okay apart from when Smokey decided to sharpen his claws on her new briefcase she'd brought.

So there Hellboy was, locked up in his vault-room, trying not to stare at the clock – it seemed too slow anyway. Maybe he should toss it and get a proper digital one, like the ones they installed in some of the revamped science rooms. Hellboy wondered if there were any extras he could 'borrow' – matter not, he just had to stay there and sit till… that kid did her business in the library.

The library. The one room in BPRD that his father devoted himself entirely to, filling the entire place with books he had selected personally. And Abe was letting… that kid come into that special place, that sacred room, to rifle through the secrets that Trevor Bruttenholm had preserved.

Except he was stuck. A secret himself, stuck in the bloody vault, deep under the surface – and powerless. Hellboy switched on the dvd player, and tried to focus his mind on 'Mighty Ducks' to distract his rising anger.

Hellboy could see it; the kid burrowing her way deeper into BPRD - Manning was already gone; he was corrupted anyway. Abe - with each page turn, she was manoeuvring closer, especially since bluey himself said that he couldn't read her properly. Like there was some kind of a weird buzzing fog. Hellboy was sure that was deliberate, even if Abe didn't think so.