I crammed this chapter in an hour or two. Sorry for any typos, but I'm honestly really tired and don't feel like editing this in the morning, so live with it. Thanks to Peya Luna for being my #1 reviewer. As in the first and the best! (Thought I've heard rumors that second is actually the best, so don't be shy.) And my page is sorta spazzing on me, so this is chapter is going in and out of the system for some reason or other.

I don't see much point in putting a second disclaimer, so whatever the first one said still applies.


"I don't know, Abe," Liz groaned as she mashed the heels of her palms into her eyes. The lingering scent of age old chlorine was not helping the situation. She was slumped over her knees as she curled up onto an old pool chair. The rubber woven seat was chaffing her calves, so she hugged her knees to get comfortable.

"I just couldn't take it anymore, Blue," she admitted. "It was just so... "

Even if Abe hadn't been a mind-reader, her thoughts would have been clear from the look on her face. He lowered his gills to the water and heaved a large sigh as he shifted his arms on the grainy concrete around his pool. It was a miracle to have found an indoor pool in such a small town, and even though it wasn't large, it was better than Hellboy's fish tank idea.

"He does try his best for you, Liz," Abe pointed out in his I'm-being-the-voice-of-reason tone. "And even if he wasn't, you have to understand the situation." He inwardly cursed himself for ever having handed in his belt. The freedom was nice, but considering the accommodations, he'd take the library and rotten eggs.

"I know, I know," Liz said. "It hasn't been easy for any of us. I just wish that losing everything had some sort of impact on him."

"Well, he is quite dense, Liz. And I mean that in most senses of the word," Abe snickered. "But what I do know is that under all of that... that... stuff," he waved the phrase off with a webbed hand, "he really does care."

"But that's the thing, Abe! It's all of his 'stuff'!," Liz shrieked while tugging at her hair through pale fingers. "It just builds up and multiplies and... and... and it just makes me want to-"

Abe winced and ducked as she stood up and burst into flames. Her blue fire licked the edge of the chair, sending the rancid stench of burnt plastic into the air.

As she cooled down, Abe contemplated the situation. After a few moments of silent thought, he drew up a blank. "I do believe I gave you the Rubik's cube example..."


John was tired to say the least as he took his first tentative steps on Irish soil. It had taken six stop-overs after a boat ride to just reach Newark Airport, and additional seven hours to reach Ireland but he was finally there. He'd been sitting in the plane so long, he wouldn't've been surprised if his legs had shriveled up and fallen off from lack of use. It was astoundingly difficult to just find a way off of Antarctica, but for the first time in months, he had no worry of returning to his dreaded igloo.

He walked across the line of honking cabs and bustling passengers to see a chauffeur in holding up a sign with his name on it. John gave him a pleasant smile as his driver lugged his single suitcase into the trunk of the discreet black car. Having Manning on his side did have its advantages.

Finally having some leg room, John stretched out against the supple leather upholstery and laid his head against the cool headrest. He reveled in the silence of the car; it was a pleasant change from the howling winds of the barren wasteland he'd been patrolling for the last six months.

John's brow furrowed as he remembered why he was there. How could Hellboy do that? He recalled the day he'd been transferred.

He woke up one morning to see an envelope at the foot of his door. The crisp edges practically screamed military. He carefully slid his finger under the corner and began prying it open.

It's contents didn't seem like anything special; he'd probably be filling out yet another damage of public property form for something Red broke. With that thought, he was very tempted to just crumple up the papers and promptly have a game of paper-basketball.

He was half-way in the act of putting it down when something caught his eye. Upon closer inspection, he noticed that it wasn't a damage form at all. It was a notice of transferal for that evening. Panicking, John quickly scanned the document and found his name in bold at the head of the paper.

It went on a couple pages about protocol and all of that dribble, but then he found his destination branch.

John couldn't remember much after that, because he was still shell-shocked by the initial impact. The next clear memory he had was the unbearably loud bellow of foghorns as he boarded the next ship out of some harbor he didn't even remember.

He tried desperately to figure out what he'd done to deserve such a drastic ejection, but found every avenue was a dead end. E-mails weren't an option, seeing as there was no internet on that giant hunk of ice. Conventional letters were sent, but the likelihood of them being recieved before he died was slim indeed. His phone calls were seldom answered by a human operator, but when they were, the most he could get out of them was that his transfer was still indefinite and that his files dated immediately before his move were mysteriously "missing".

In his boredom, John even played some games with the operators to break the monotony. He got some sort of sick satisfaction from trash-talking himself with some of the newer agents over the phone.

His last conversation remained as clear in his mind as the day he'd had it.

"Do you know that sap Myers," John chuckled as he leaned against the wall and twirled the phone cord around his index finger. "Got himself sent way up here. All I know is I haven't seen him in months. Probably fell into some penguin hole or something."

"Oh yeah, I heard about him," the young operator snickered back. He was apparently as bored as John was, judging by his willingness to participate in a conversation with a complete stranger. If Manning caught him chit-chatting on an office line, he'd probably be strung-up like a slab of meat, but his position was so insignificant that he had no fear of reprimand. The Bureau had more important things to do than wonder whow as tying up their phone lines.

"Word around here is that he got screwed over by that big red guy; y'know, the walking freakshow," he said absently. John's breath caught as all of it suddenly made sense."I don't even remember hearing what happened, but I know a couple of guys were in the hospital after being 'convinced' to keep him there, the poor guy." The operator reflected on his own account as the silence passed. "Well, it doesn't matter now, at any rate. It's just a shame that that Myers guy is still gone even after that freak quit."

John sat bolt upright as the car hit a huge pothole. He hadn't even noticed that he'd fallen asleep. "My apologies, sir," the driver said while glancing at him through the rear-view mirror.

Myers just gave him a nod before he rested his head against the window. The gentle rattle of the cool glass soothed his newly blossoming headache. Without looking, he reached to his cup holder for his bottle and took a long gulp of the chilly water.

The Irish countryside now whizzed past his window, an alien view to Antarctica and Newark alike. John's thoughts were hurtled back to the BPRD and his recent meeting with Manning.

Long story short, Manning hadn't authorized his transfer (but apparently didn't cared enough to do anything about it) and now he had to convince Hellboy, Abe, Liz, and some guy named Johann to come back to work again. From what he gathered from the state of the staff, the Bureau was in desperate need of a certain big red ape to come save the day.

"Of course," John thought. "They'll all go grovelling to him as soon as some bad guys are too tough for them to handle." He clenched his teeth together. Myers hoped- no he knew he wouldn't go begging Hellboy to come back; not after what he did.

"Sir," the driver quipped, interrupting his daydreaming. "We're nearing Portstewart." John only now noticed the Irish accent. He'd been thinking so hard that it hadn't even occured to him where he was.

"Thank you," John answered hoarsely. Soon, Hellboy would remember what happened to little "Boyscout", and John would make sure he got exactly what was coming to him.


I'm pretty happy with this chapter, and I hope you enjoy it. Please review if you've read this, just so I know that somebody cares... DX. But honestly, I'd really appreciate any reviews, so type away, my readers!