I'm trying to get everything I want to say about this fic out of the way before I actually start the fic; I don't want to post lengthy and needless notes with every chapter when I can just get it all done with right off the bat. Erego, the notes will be rather lengthy at the beginning of this chapter, but you won't have to see them again for a while.
Note: This being a movieverse fic, I will only be archiving it in the Comics—Miscellaneous Superheroes section until a Hellboy category is opened in the Movies area. I apologize if this is an inconvenience to anyone.
Series/Continuity: Hellboy, movieverse. Specifically, this is set four years before the actual movie (holding that the movie's events happen in late 2004); Liz, if you use the age given in the novelization (twenty-six when the movie begins and ends), is twenty-two during this fic and only recently an official BPRD agent. A few minor details may be incorporated from the novelization of the movie, and there will be a few references to the comics.
Feedback: Trust me, I'd be very appreciative for anything you could offer. Constructive criticism, honest praise, whatever – I'll love ya for it. I won't be responding to reviews until the last chapter, but believe me when I say every single review will be read and appreciated until I get to that point. Huge thanks beforehand.
Blanket Disclaimer: Hellboy, Liz, Broom, Abe, Manning, and all other characters from the Hellboy universe (movie and comics alike) are the property of Mike Mignola; the screenplay and relationships worked off of in the story are developed by Guillermo del Toro (with, of course, Mike Mignola). Original characters and this fic are spawned from my own dubious creativity, so let's hope and see if everything turns out all right.
Various: Hellboy/Liz undercurrents (movieverse fic, after all), several original characters of little to major role, no Myers (due to timeframe), an eventual PG13 rating, and cigars. Whoo?
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The Mouth on Charming Hill:
Prologue
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Early July, 2000.
Hallisburg, VA.
Like all nights of great, if unusual, importance in this particular tired town, it began with a low whistling wind and rapidly piling storm clouds; the sky had been promising rain for the past few days, overcast and still dry. The weatherman had preached from his invisible pulpit about the coming storm and the omnipresent threat of a flash flood. Those few in the valley-town who bothered to peek at The Weather Channel took note of the warning, and then shrugged, too worn or uncaring to genuinely give a damn. Disaster was nothing new, and a flood of any sort was a welcomed relief after the drought of late.
The ground was split into patches of hardened dirt, the grass yellow and brittle; summer heat and a relentless lack of moisture had frayed relations and sharpened tempers. Now, with the distinct, clear scent of a coming rain in the air and the sidelong feel of static electricity, the thought of rain was a cheering one.
A small girl bounced on her toes in the small, aged bookshop on the corner of Charming Drive and Eastwind Street. As she looked, curious, through the glass, she tried to see clearly through the layer of dirt on the outside and the chipped lettering that read A CHARMING READ. She pressed her small hands to the glass, nose firmly set against the window.
"Is it raining yet?" she asked.
"Hm?" the shop-owner replied. The young man glanced from his chore of re-shelving abandoned books to the same display window she stood eagerly at. "No, Jeanie," he began, "it's not raining yet. Give it a few minutes and it'll be pouring, though."
He nodded his head toward the small, blue dial-radio on the counter. A weather report was wrapping up, the tinny chiming fade-out replaced quickly by Gladys Knight and the Pips. Though she frowned, the girl returned to the window, humming off-key to the music.
"How do I know?" Jeanie asked again, tilting her tiny head back to study him quizzically.
"Know what?" he responded absently. He slid a book into place, smiling at his minor accomplishment, just before a brilliant streak of lightning cut the sky and lit the silhouetted manor atop Charming Hill.
Jeanie shrieked, terrified and delighted. Thunder followed quickly, deep and rumbling as it vibrated in their chests; the girl clapped a hand to her flat chest with glee.
"Now it's raining," he said, grinning; a fierce, slanted beat rushed against the roof as the lights flickered, once, and then steadied as the rain drummed harder. "Hope the lights stay," he added, and Jeanie appeared suddenly worried.
"They can't go out," she protested, nervous.
"Darkness all around me," sang Gladys, and with a string of sharp pops the lights exploded.
Jeanie screamed again, no longer delighted as the bookshop was effectively blackened.
"Crud," the man bit out, dropping a book with a startled thud. "Jeanie, are you okay? Don't worry about the lights; it'll probably only be a few minutes until I can find some more bulbs, and--"
"But I just don't feel like talking to anyone," crooned the radio.
His voice cut off and Jeanie, whimpering, found she could not.
The rain fell even harder, thrumming and rushing around the shop; half-sobbing, but still terribly silent, the girl turned to star wildly at the rain as it blurred and misted the world outside. Even that, though, was off-kilter. The drops, of course, fell to the ground and to roofs, on the uncovered head of a single man running down the sidewalk with a harried expression on his face.
But instead of racing down the moderately slanted Eastwind Street, the fallen rainwater was steadily flowing up the steep incline of Charming Hill.
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