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CHAPTER 16

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Inside the prestigious Vet College of Charleston University, Dr. Spencer Aaron was a well respected director at Field Research Department, one with a keen interest on specialist in wolf's biology and behavior. Any one of his past and present students could testify that, because the old professor always took his sweet time explaining them the marvelous aspects of wolf physiology during the field trips they had to make.

John was just learning about that, lucky for him, he did need a crash course on wolfs. The professor's monotonous voice kept explaining to him that "... According to L. David Mech's book, wolves were similar to dog, as far as the sense of smell is concerned. They have an olfactory area approximately 14 times as large as that of humans."

The professor seemed to consider Johns question as an opportunity to give him a lecture, because after a few seconds he continued. "Researchers estimate that a dog's sense of smell is up to 100 times more sensitive than of man, meanwhile some researchers believe that a wolf's sense of smell may be 1 million times better than a human's, which means that a wolf can smell prey that is more than a mile away!"

"I see professor, but I'm wondering about their hearing if I could use a dog's whistle to call them." John intervened.

The professor thought about the question at hand and answered "The wolf's hearing is extremely sensitive. They can hear other wolves howling several miles away. You see, a dog's ability to hear sounds above 250 cycles per second becomes progressively greater than man's as the frequency increases. So, for sounds below that frequency, man and dog possess about the same hearing ability. Dogs can detect sounds up to 26,000 cycles per second and can tell the difference between pitches one tone apart on the musical scale. It's believed that the hearing ability of the wolf corresponds to these."

At that, John risked "So it could be effectively used?"

"Yes, it could."

John shook the professor's hand and left the campus area as fast as he could; intend to return to BPRD's building.

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It was a one hour trip back to BPRD's headquarters, but when John arrived at the facility second floor he quickly located the forensic pathologist who performed autopsy – Isis Cohen, M.D. He met Isis at BPRD's cafeteria when they were both the agency's newbies of the month. Facing the same problems in adapting to the new procedures and long work hours, they had bonded and shared many survival tips. Now, they regularly met to talk about friends, lovers and weird cases they had.

The 30 years old medical examiner was waiting for John with the autopsy report in his hands, ready to answer the question he made by phone after leaving Charleston University. She could see how much he needed the data.

"Do you have the answer?" John asked coming towards her.

"126,000 cycles per second would be enough to incapacitate them. I tested this theory using our programs to develop USW; it means Ultra Sonic Weapons just for you know." She giggled a little before conclude. "You can see the results on the report."

That surprised him. "You mean you managed to access that kind of information?"

"Let's just say that I know a guy, who knows a guy..."

"And his name is...?"

"Our fearless Dr. Pratt from lab W-05." she completed with a sweet smile.

John rushed to the elevator yelling back to her: "I ADORE YOU, ISIS!"

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John barged into Manning's office and told him his idea to use ultrasonic waves to incapacitate the werewolves. He was showing the Director the results he got from Isis and mentioned BPRD's project on Ultra Sonic Weapon.

The USW project was fairly experimental and only one scientist was currently working on it since it was considered useless. So, when Dr. Pratt – the chief scientist of USW project entered in the situation room where Manning, Hellboy, John and Abe were waiting for his lecture, he was extremely nervous because this one presentation would determine his project's future.

He wasn't facing a happy or interested audience, because no one except Abe wanted to know the specifics on John's 'bad sci-fi movie' idea – as Hellboy helpfully pointed. Nonetheless, Manning forced the entire team to hear Pratt's explanations for Hellboy's despair.

"As we know, sound is associated with something we hear: people talking, music on the radio, and other type of sounds. Just for you know, the human hearing range is 20 Hz, sound above this value are called infrasonic, while above is named ultrasonic." Dr. Pratt informed. He reminded himself to remain calm since he somehow concluded that seeing Manning naked wouldn't bode well with him.

"What most people don't know is that sound is actually an atmospheric wave, that can be focused and used to strike an object or a person. This sound wake we are talking about is not the type of sound you hear but the type you would feel in an explosion - a shock wave." The little pause he gave for suspense didn't help in bringing his audience alive. He kept looking at Hellboy chewing his cigar and seeing Manning's vein start to pulse.

At Abe's nodded support, he continued "If you have two or more focused sound waves angled and combined at some focal point, the combining of the these waves can produce a very powerful another one. This kind of technology can also be used to direct an audible message to a person by aiming a device at the side of the target's head, near one ear."

"Excuse me, Dr...?"

"Pratt, sir."

"Excuse me Dr. Pratt, but you're babbling. I want direct answers for my questions or I swear I'll let Hellboy here show much you shouldn't waste precious time!" Hellboy smirked sadistically at that. "Now, tell me: Can you produce a weapon small and portable that can generate a sound with 126,000 cycles per second in order to help in the fight against the werewolves? How much time do you need to build it?"

At the promise of punishment, the poor scientist felt adrenalin hit his blood stream. "Yes, sssir. I...I mean... I believe we can, but we're still on research, so develop a weapon like your asking it will take about six months with a full research team."

"Good. Make it happens. You have two days."

"WHAT? Sir..."

"Don't waste time, Pratt, the clock's ticking!" Hellboy added helpfully.

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Dr. William S. Pratt re-entered his lab not knowing where to begin. He walked to his design desk and considered what to do in the time he had been granted by the Director, touching several blueprints that were tossed in there.

That's how Isis found him when she came to the lab, bringing him a cup of coffee. She knocked on the open door and offered him "Coffee?"

"Isis! Maybe you can help me with this project!"

"I'm just forensic pathologist, William. Not very good in building weapons…"

"Well, since you were the one telling Myers about my work, you should at least help me on this…"

"Fine! What do you need?"

"An idea on how an ultrasound weapon to be use by BPRD's agents."

"I hate to point it out, but that is your area of expertise." That got her a whining and skinny lab rat named Pratt. Unable to stand him at these conditions, she offered "Think about the needed specifications: it has to be small and light, otherwise an agent wouldn't e able to carry it; since you are always preaching how dangerous a shock between two sound waves can be, it should generate a single sound wake."

"Not exactly Isis, a sound wake can be just as harmful as shockwave. Also, we would need to find a way to prevent the agent being affected by it. It could be shaped as a gun, but this way it would reach a very specific and small area… Maybe like small bomb, one where the agent could regulate the sound intensity! The device would only need to generate a single sound, not too strong, but at the right frequency; that way not only a large area would be affected, but any humans present wouldn't be harmed!" He was now anxious calculating the weapon specifications at the other side of the lab with a curious Isis standing behind.

"Do you at least have a prototype?" She inquired.

"Of course I have! Here is my life's work!" And with that he showed her something that looked like an very antique radio with what looked like a few transistors attached to it, causing her eyebrows lift at her face in skepticism.

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CHAPTER 17

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After the meeting with Manning and Dr. Pratt was over, Abe walked alongside his friends through the corridors in the agents' quarters direction, observing Hellboy and John interact between themselves. They seemed more at ease with each other and, looking for the reasons behind the changes in their behaviors, he spotted a barely concealed love mark at John's neck. He waited until they arrived at Hellboy's quarter's door to excuse himself and give his friends some quality time alone, but before he left the room, he congratulated them on their new found relationship, complaining about the months of sexual tension he had to endure.

Not a fraction of second after Blue left the room, John found himself conveniently forced against a random wall and rapidly transforming into whimpering mass of pleasure. Hellboy had caught him by his clothes and, ripping away some buttons, cleared the path to John's neck and nipples, kissing, sucking and scratching his way down. John's hands timidly grabbed Bellboy's head, keeping it at some particular sweet points.

Allowing himself to enjoy the heat moment, he became bold and attached his mouth at the demons right ear, licking and biting it; his feelings intensity growing at every second passed. At some point the new lovers made it to the bed, cats running out of their descending way only to get covered by flying shirts and discarded pants. Hard bodies and teasing mouths fighting for the upper position until John surrendered with a deep sigh and Hellboy took possession of his body, mind and soul.

Later, the night found them still in bed, undisturbed by alarms or agents. The passion had calmed a little and small pillow talks initiated, lovers laughing at one's 'sexual prowess' and the other lack of expertise.

"I cannot believe you were a virgin..." John laughed commenting. A disbelieving tone transpired to his voice when he asked. "Come on... not even Liz?"

"Why did I ever tell you this?" Asked Hellboy looking at the heavens and praying for patience…

"You had your hands full during those years, huh?" John kept going.

"Aren't to suppose to appreciate the fact that you're my first lover ever?"

"I'm sorry H.B." John lovely kissed him before continuing his tirade. "I'm glad you waited for me for all those 60 years."

"Why you..." Hellboy uttered. before a red tail made itself known at Myers ass, effectively finishing any other conversations.

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The First Cathedral's construction dated from the 1800's and, in its prime, was described it as one of the greatest ornaments of the city. Now it was a ruined building at the city down town that seemed abandoned by God and Government, specially because politicians didn't want to risk precious votes in marking it for demolition, neither wanted to spend taxes payers money to rebuild it. So the ruined Cathedral remained untouched and forgotten by great part of the population; just like the labyrinth of mortuary vaults built underneath it.

Except by the mole people, who knew better than to step at tunnels located at the city center since the central community died. It was a strange thing to observe a community slowly disappear. It started with mysteriously disappearances of older members and children, but later escalated to mortal violent attacks. The central community leaders' didn't know what to do in order to stop those events except to isolate the area where they occurred.

The ban on the area didn't work, because what ever was taking those people moved to other populated areas and the disappearances and attacks continued. At his point, people started to whisper about seeing yellow eyes in the corridors or hearing growls echoing through the tunnels.

They were afraid, but remained in their homes, protecting themselves behind barricaded doors until the howling could be heard and frightening creatures could be seen. That was when the families start to move away from the area towards other communities, carrying their loving ones and never looking back. Some of them didn't even bother to pack their belongings, leaving them to the creatures that now howled at daytime just like they did it at night.

When the community finally surrendered to the inevitable, the stories about the haunted and cursed area spread through the entire population of the mole people. No one ever ventured to come back to the crypts located under the First Cathedral.

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The old Cathedral provided Dominic a useful place to use as a den since he could keep the pack protected – unwanted visitors getting lost in its labyrinths – and provide them food without much trouble since the people living on the city tunnels didn't officially exist. The fact that the crypts had never been used to guard bodies and could be easily used as quarters was an unexpected bonus.

When Dominic first visited the crypts, he had noticed the lack of flesh decaying smell around the place. Curious about this singular event, he entered the labyrinth, finding some objects that the mole people had left behind not so many years ago.

Continuing his expedition he walked into the very center of the labyrinth and found the Cathedral's long lost wine cellar that survived the mole people incursions. The wine bottles were carefully guarded in a series of small rooms that needed to be crossed to reach the larger and well lit one, where the 'saint men' appeared to held their more wild parties.

Some of the remaining furniture located at the room left side was placed surrounding a round hole that allowed a perfect upside view from the lower chamber to guests. Dominic correctly guessed that the lower chamber was used to provide more x-rated entertainment to the priests and their guests.

The lower chamber had been closed for centuries and, even after the pack moved inn and the mole people of the area disappeared, even when Sanders was brought in as prisoner, had not been used. At least not until Dominic transformed the unconscious cadets into the pack's hungered omegas they were now.

The betas were at Dominic's side in the room, their position symbolizing their superiority to the omegas inside the pack hierarchy. In the pack hierarchy, omegas werewolves where at the lowest-ranking, living on the fringes of the pack and eating at last if eating at all; they were, in one word, expendable.

Especially to Dominic, who intended to get rid of the excess his war against the BPRD had forced him to produce as soon as possible. They would be sacrificed in a few days, but still need to be fed with a few pieces of flash meat, because Dominic wanted to drive them mad at hunger and then released them inside the BPRD's headquarters.

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CHAPTER 18

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Steven Sanders' bruised hands wrapped at the iron bars that separated him from the old tunnel 8. His fingers were numb that morning and couldn't work properly not even to button up the ragged clothes he had found discard in the city sewer tunnels. Until that day, he didn't believe in the rumors about people living in the sewers.

He had been wrong about many things in his life, 'I was blind, but now I can see.' He thought ironically. He pushed the bars, forcing the gate to open up, wondering where he was while walking in what seemed to be a straight line. He crossed a small wooden area to discover the left entrance of the city's park, what told him he was at the Second Avenue's sidesteps. He had no money to call for a cab, which meant he had to find an emergency phone and fast or he certainly would loose more than his feet to the city's winter.

Bracing himself for the pain that any sort of movement generated, he walked straight to the small shop situated across the avenue and, seeing the metal garbage can at his side, threw it at the glass door that separated him from a phone. The alarms went on screaming his presence through the empty shop but he paid no attention, he had a mission to accomplish and for that, he had to reach BPRD and Manning.

After making the phone call, Sanders slipped to the floor and rest his head over his folded legs. This particular position was painful to him, but didn't bother him as much as the cold and exhaustion he was feeling.

Eyes closed against his will and he never saw the pity look the other agents of BPRD threw at him when they arrived at the scene.

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Sanders had been immediately taken to the infirmary ward after the rescue team noticed the seriousness of his condition. Manning had been notified of his agent's return and now was observing the doctors and nurses stitch the deeper slashes at the agent's back. The many cuts found along his arms and legs were already treated.

There were bruises all over the unconscious man body and, judging by the horror in the nurses faces, Manning was almost sure the agent had been raped. The Director didn't act like he cared about the agents he worked with, but that wasn't the truth it all; the hate he was feeling for the creatures responsible for his agents conditions was proof enough. Not only this, but there was the fact that doctors and nurses were obligated to report him every single injure or first sign of sickness in his agents, even more on Hellboy, Abraham Sapiens and John Myers.

He would be damned if they ever figure out that he kept constant and zealous watch over the late Professor's adopted sons and pet project, but they were his family too. So he kept them in short leash and secretly observed their ups and downs without them knowing about it. It was a 24/7 work that only promised more headaches with Hellboy and John falling in love and starting a relationship. Yet he was happy to do it.

A doctor left Sanders bedside to present his health status to the waiting Director. The man seamed to ponder where to begin the long list on injuries the agent had sustained and the disturbing evidences he had found out. Seeing the doctor's hesitance, Manning urged him "No sense in keeping the bad news for later Dr. Simmons. I'm seasoned enough to recognize a critical condition when I see it. Still, I need you to give me the specifics."

"He has been tortured and I found evidences of repeated rape and beatings. I also fear for his mental health, but this is nothing compared to the other things I saw in there."

"Things…Is that a medical term?"

"I don't know a medical term to describe a biting that is healing itself faster at every passing minute. The same thing is slowly happening to the other injuries, tough they will take some considerable time to disappear."

"A bite?" Manning repeated

"At his right shoulder, it won't kill him… actually, none of the injuries he's sporting is fatal; they'll hurt and slow him down, but won't kill him."

"I want you to get a blood sample from him and send it to the labs. Inform them to perform every single test they have down there and send me the results as fast as they can. I want to know everything that here is to know about abnormalities in his blood." That being said, Manning turned to leave but like an afterthought he added "And, doctor, remove him to the second floor's infirmary ward."

"But sir…!"

"You have your orders!" And he left.

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"Before God we are all equally wise - and equally foolish." That was a common joke around the BPRD personnel, one they used to tell around a little blond woman named Gillian Onora Dunlop – or GOD as her friends use to call her. She didn't mind the jokes because her co-workers seemed to think on her as a mother figure, a woman that watched and guarded every single one of them while they were at home.

She didn't mind because that was actually her work at the agency: to watch and protect everyone inside the BPRD from the 'Watch Tower' with a little help of the several cameras and sound devices installed in the building.

Despite its name, the 'Tower' was a secret room located at the second floor, whose walls were filled with dozens of widescreens that showed its operatives what and how the agents were doing all the time. This particular hard work was shared between Gillian and three other special agents. They were the ones responsible to bring to the others' attention the irony between Gillian's name and her work.

But GOD had her favorite, because whenever Gillian was alone in the room - what would happen when the 'guys' were in the cafeteria eating – she would devote a single camera and widescreen to observe a certain Special Agent Steven Sanders.

Tough she never had the guts to speak to him directly, Steven Sanders always made himself noticed by her, bringing her a cup of coffee or a box of caramel bonbons or even coming to the room to spend time with her. They would talk about everything on earth, including some agents they knew and a few gossips. She wasn't very fan of gossip, but couldn't refuse the one thing that linked her to Sanders. When Sanders disappeared, a small part of her heart died. BPRD never had any agents going MIA, they were always dead. She privately mourned her beloved friend, accepting his death as a part of their jobs.

Those silent tears stopped the minute Sanders was found and brought back home. Anxiously, she accessed video and audio from the room where he was being kept, listening every injured he suffered as the doctors treated them.

She heard when Director Manning ordered his removal to the second floor and felt scared for his safety since no human being was ever treated in that specific infirmary ward. That place was used to treat and hold paranormal beings, the ones BPRD wasn't so sure on what to do with them. Its rooms were highly secret and constitute a blind spot even to the Watch Tower.

GOD wasn't crying anymore, she was extremely worried.