Obligatory Disclaimer: Dark Horse and Mr. Mignola own all, save for my own original characters. A special thank you to Guillermo del Toro for bringing this wonderful character to my attention.

"Uhm, Red? Have you read today's paper?"

Hellboy had just sat down at the conference table and looked over at Abe. The merman wouldn't make eye contact, never a good sign. On the days when they were being briefed for their next assignment, Hellboy rarely picked up a newspaper or switched on the TV to catch the local news. He wanted to focus on the task that was coming and didn't want any outside distractions. Abe knew that. Hellboy narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

"Not yet, Blue. Anything in particular I need to know about?" He took a long sip of his coffee, relishing the feel of caffeine coursing through his veins. It was too early in the morning to be awake. Especially after not getting any sleep. Hellboy barely had enough time to grab a shower and get dressed before he had to be at the briefing. Thank God I'll get a weekend in New York where Torie and I can sleep in late together.

Abe looked down at the headline screaming from the front page of the newspaper. How to tell the big, ugly ape? With a sigh, Abe slid the paper across the conference table, wincing as he did so.

Furrowing his brow in confusion, Hellboy took the paper and turned it around so he could glance at the top headline. He then swallowed hard. Other agents were trickling in, patting him on the back and greeting him as they passed by to get to their seats, but he neither felt nor heard them.

International Humanitarian Gunned Down In Early Morning Traffic

Victoria James, international advocate for woman's rights, was gunned down early this morning just outside the Midtown Woman's Shelter. On a two-year sabbatical from the international spotlight, James had recently been employed as the Midtown's programs director.

In custody is Ryan Fox, ex-husband of a shelter resident. Arriving around midnight, Fox broke into the shelter, brandished a pistol and demanded to see his wife, who had been staying at Midtown since the couple's divorce, according to shelter employees. When refused access to his estranged wife, Fox grabbed James and threatened to kill her if his wife did not appear. After attempting to talk Fox out of his hostage standoff, James managed to gain control of the weapon but somehow lost grip of it in her flight from the building. Fox shot James three times in back as she stepped from the sidewalk into the very early morning traffic. She died en route to St. Joseph's Hospital. No one else was hurt in the shooting. Fox was immediately taken into police custody.

James is best known for her work as a voice for change in countries that oppress women. Not only speaking to government audiences on changing their rule, James has founded several organizations that train women in skills to help them become self-sufficient as well as giving them avenues to sell items that represent their local culture to collectors for a fair price to both the creator and recipient. James was nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize at the age of thirteen and has only continued her crusade with more momentum over the years.

She leaves behind no immediate family. Funeral arrangements are pending.

Hellboy closed his eyes and began tapping his right hand against the conference table. No. There's no way it was Torie. He had just seen her…

Around midnight. Dammit. Torie said she was walking Lance when she walked me out. I had no idea she was going over to the shelter.

They had had dinner together, after they had spent the afternoon in her bed enjoying each others company and trying to figure out a battle plan for their relationship before he had to leave for work. She had told him to be careful when he told that his next assignment was taking to China.

SHE had told HIM to be careful.

Why had he never been concerned about where she worked? Why had it never occurred to him that Torie could be working with people running from abusive situations? Violent situations?

The staccato rhythm of his right hand beating on the table began to increase. Dents were beginning to form on the tabletop. The other agents took notice and began whispering amongst themselves whether any of them should approach the moody demon.

Abe took rapid control of the situation. It was easier to move the agents to another conference room than to move Hellboy. When Agent Manning showed up to conduct the meeting, Abe was in the hallway to intercept. Of course Manning had no idea of his top agent's personal life, but with Abe to fill in a few details, Manning told Abe that he'd fill the merman in on the details on the flight out and that Hellboy was being taken off the case. If that's what Hellboy wanted. But Abe was now the team leader. With a nod, Abe stepped back into the conference room.

"What do I do, Abe?"

Abe sighed. Never had he seen his best friend in such anguish. Abe considered his words before answering. "First of all, you need to find out more information. There's always the possibility that this is all one great big mistake. But working for a government agency makes for easier information gathering. I'd start with the hospital. Then the district station responding to the scene. Working for a government agency does have one or two perks." Abe's last words were meant to soothe, to give a slight bit of levity to the situation, but all Hellboy did was resume his finger drumming.

Despite the ache in his heart, Hellboy laughed, though it sounded hollow. "I guess you already know that I'm not going to China. Dammit! Dammit, dammit, dammit! Why did it never occur to me that her job could be just as dangerous as ours?"

Abe smiled gently and rubbed his friend's back. "Hey, why don't you go back to bed for a bit? Or go watch some bad kung fu movie? Baby Ruths always make you feel better. You need to relax."

Hellboy spun his head and locked gazes with Abe, his golden eyes blazing. He banged his right hand against the conference table to emphasize his words, oblivious to the damage he inflicted upon the Formica tabletop. "Relax? Really now?! There's no way on earth I could get any sleep if I went back to bed! God knows if I'll ever be able to sleep again. The paper said something about funeral arrangements pending. What the hell does that mean? Who's making them?"

"Red," Abe struggled for the right words to say that might not set his friend off even more. "You have so much going on in that head of yours that I know it's hard to get your bearings. Call the hospital. Call the police station. I wish I had better answers for you, but I don't. Do you want me to stay behind and help you?"

Abe was right. Right now, all Hellboy felt was shock, like he was in a bad movie that would end at any moment and reality would come sweeping back in. Because right now, Hellboy couldn't believe the paper was correct. Maybe it was erroneous reporting… like when Fox news reported that the Pope was dead. Although the Pope did die within the day of the report, idiot.

"You're right, as usual," Hellboy replied. "I'm gonna go back to my apartment and make some calls – figure out what the hell happened and what I can do to help. And no. I appreciate your offer to stay behind, but I'll be fine. They need you more than I do right now. Although I might make you sit down and watch a kung fu movie with me when you get back. When things have sunk in a bit more."

"Call me – anytime – if you need anything. I mean that. I'll fly back immediately."

Hellboy nodded his head, unable to look his friend in the eyes. "I know."

With a final pat on the shoulder, Abe was silent as he left Hellboy alone in the conference room.

Fishing into his duster pocket for his pack of cigs, his fingers touched pliable cellophane. Curious, he pulled it out and saw that it was a leftover fortune cookie. Was it only yesterday that the two of them were turning innocent fortunes into illicit challenges?

With a sigh, he cracked it open and read: Good news will come to you from far away.

Bullshit.

Hellboy blindly reached for his cigarettes again, but found another cookie. Another fucking cookie. Wanting nothing more than to throw it as hard as he could against the wall, Hellboy tilted his head back and closed his eyes, fighting back tears.

This is insane. This is a bad dream. Any moment, my alarm will go off and everything will be fine.

Crushing the cookie inside the wrapper, he looked down and saw the words on the white paper:

Just to have it is enough.

What the fuck does that mean?

Resting his head in his hand, he tried not to think about the pounding headache behind his eyes. Instead, Hellboy tried formulate a plan, but his brain seemed to shut down.

"Uhm… hello? Are you… uhm… Sam?"

The words, hushed and hesitant, barely registered over the pounding inside his head, but Hellboy felt eyes staring into the back of his head. With a snarl curling his lips, Hellboy spun around, ready to tell whoever it was that he didn't appreciate their idea of a sick joke. Torie was dead. The sooner he accepted that, the better. But there would be hell to pay for anyone who antagonized him about Torie.

It was not Torie standing in the doorway, but a young woman he had never laid eyes upon.

"Who the fuck are you?"