Author's Note: The Hellboy comics and graphic novels were great. The movie, phenomenal. The novels written by Christopher Golden, simply divine. And of course Mike Mignola is a god, for it was he who created Hellboy back in ninety-three. I only hope I can do some justice to these people with this story.
Reviews rock, too.
- Spike Daft
Hellboy: Killing Fields Chapter One: Hotel RoomsDespite anything Manning could ever say to convince him otherwise, Hellboy knew he would never find a comfortable bed in a hotel room. Ever. He had been in countless hotels all over the world, and every one of the beds either creaked, was too soft, too small (he had once smashed his stone hand right through the wall behind him while stretching; luckily the room next door had been unoccupied), or was any combination thereof. The ones in the more obscure countries were the worst; Hellboy always thought they smelled funny.
He hated things that smelled funny.
Hence his discomfort in having to share this small, cramped room in the south of Poland with Abe, whose favourite snack had to be, of course, rotten eggs. The fishman was good company for Hellboy, admittedly; his calm, thoughtful nature nicely balanced the red-skinned demon's volatile temper and thirst for action. That was why they were most often partners on missions, and had always shared a room whenever they happened to be stationed at places other than the BPRD, but Hellboy never got used to his partner's living style. Too many books, Abe's damned headphones. The rotten eggs.
Abe suffered equally, of course; it would be unfair to indicate otherwise. Hellboy was messy and short tempered, not to mention loud. His hooves thundered on the ground wherever he walked; the hotel rooms were always located on the ground floor lest he shake and thunder the entire building into a panic, or even fall through the floor. His weight was immense; Abe supposed that being over seven feet tall, as broad as a bus, and possessing nothing but muscle and a massive right hand made of solid stone could do that to someone. His tail had a tendency to knock things off of shelves and topple lamps, and he cursed. A lot.
Yet when it came down to it, as a team they had never failed a mission. Something had to be said for that; their teamwork was impeccable and Manning knew it. Elizabeth Sherman, the pyrokinetic, accompanied them more often in the months after Trevor Bruttenholm- Professor Broom's- death. Their encounter and defeat of Rasputin and the horrors he had summoned had brought her closer to the Bureau and her partners, particularly Hellboy. Gone was the reluctance she had harboured to serve the BPRD in past days; now she knew her true calling, and embraced it in a fiery grip.
Plus, she always got her own room on these foreign endeavours. Being a girl had its perks.
This time was no different. Her own room was a bit smaller than that of her partners, but she didn't mind, as she was the solitary tenant. Their hotel was, actually, a small inn built onto the side of a small house that belonged to the building's owners. To preserve their privacy, Hellboy and Abe had not been introduced, but Liz had met the couple upon their arrival and immediately liked them. They did not ask questions about the other two people with which she had come, but instead had offered her homemade bread and warm welcomes in startlingly fluent English, unintimidated by the black-tinted, obviously government, vehicles in which their new tenants had arrived.
Night had fallen; three hours since their arrival. Liz had come into Abe and Hellboy's room, case files from the BPRD in hand. She and Abe poured over them while Hellboy hung upside-down on his bed, hooves planted on the wall, sucking boredly on a cigar while his partners pieced together what little information the Bureau had for their current mission. The Polish government had even less; so far it appeared that its cooperation with the BPRD extended only to the use of transport. They would have to figure out the majority of the destinations themselves.
Hellboy was fine with that. He hated getting mixed up with government types, especially ones who had never before worked with the Bureau for Paranormal Research and Defense, who thought the entire thing was a joke. Funny, Hellboy thought, how their minds were always changed after everything was said and done. The BPRD was rapidly gaining respect, but it had not extended everywhere. He did not expect any graciousness from the Polish government. He had voiced this on the plane to Abe, who had simply shook his head and called him a pessimist, but Hellboy didn't think he was being pessimistic at all.
"Sixty miles west of Krakow, twenty miles west of Katowice, an explosion occurred in the village of Przez Las." Liz's brow was furrowed with concentration, a cup of hot tea in her hand as she studied the files in front of her. "The village is remote; it's bordered on all sides by forest, but apparently the blast was loud enough to be heard by towns and villages several miles away. Witnesses claim they felt the earth shake; there were some reports in the closer towns of minor damage; things falling and breaking, but no casualties. Word got out to officials, who came expecting an isolated incident; local terrorist, perhaps. Maybe just some psycho who knew a lot about powerful explosives. They obviously found something completely different, however, because that's when the Polish government decided to contact the Bureau, though they've never worked with us before. The information given is hazy at best; when officials arrived in Przez Las they found no blast site, no trace of any explosives. What they did find, however, was that the entire village had been slaughtered. Most of the bodies were dragged to the edge of the forest, like whatever caused the carnage wanted them out of the town but was reluctant to dispose of them in the forest itself. Reports indicate that some of the bodies appeared gnawed on; they would have thought it to be wolves and carrion birds and such save for the fact that the postmortem wounds, even upon quick inspection, were 'unusual'. No other information has been given, save for the fact that several artefacts were retrieved from the scene. Currently they are being held at a museum in Rapperswil, which is where we're headed tomorrow to inspect them. A government vehicle will arrive at ten o' clock to pick us up."
"Ten o' clock, huh?" grunted Hellboy. "Guess they like to sleep in around here. I have no problem with that." He paused a moment, thinking, and then grunted again. "Przez Las. Say that ten times fast."
Liz glared at him for a moment, but her expression quickly softened and she rose, crossing the room to the bed where Hellboy still dangled his torso upside-down over the bed. Part of her soul felt fused with him ever since he had called her back from the darkness when they had faced Rasputin in Russia. The kiss they had shared there in the hallway had been her first, though she would never have told anyone. The subsequent burst of flame rather explained her reluctance for intimacy of any kind, even a simple kiss, but Hellboy was fireproof. Hell, he hadn't even bitched about her scorching his jacket.
There were rare times in which Liz permitted herself to show fondness, and she did so now, running her fingers gently over the base of his horn stumps, down his face. He merely looked up at her, smiling slightly, but she saw his eyelids droop slightly in content. After a while she moved her hand away and turned to look at Abe, who was still reading the files. He had selected a series of books with which to attempt to learn further, but they all knew that until they could examine these artefacts, they had practically nothing to go on.
"Give it up for the night, Abe," Liz said softly, voicing all of their thoughts. "In the morning we'll hopefully know a little more with what we're dealing with. I'm going to bed. Good night."
" 'Night," chorused Hellboy and Abe, their voices soft; Abe's with concentration, Hellboy's with content, still lulled by Liz's hot touch upon his face.