Sorry this is a long time coming. And a little short. But I've found some inspiration again, and the next chapter should roll out in a few days.

Keep the reviews coming. And on that note, many thanks to Flint and Feather for your reviews (which actually came in as I was typing this up).

Also, if there are any grammar errors it's probably due to what time it is. And that I've had a few drinks tonight... Anyway.

Enjoy!


When Maury told me I'd be taking on some major responsibility today, I didn't have very lofty ideas about what that meant. I wasn't exactly a "stable" fixture here in Newark. Or anywhere. And, in most experiences, stability tends to be a rather crucial component in being dependable, responsible, an all-around swell guy.

Back where I'd come from, I'd had three ferns, a rosebush, some herbs, an experimentally stunted maple tree, two cacti, and an ill-fated hermit crab. Everything died at my hands, except for the crab which I can't speak for with any certainty. I had wanted to let it free-range in my room; however, I found that hermit crabs aren't really known for the tendency to stay in one place. You'd think the name would have put up some red flags. Anyway, one day it became apparent my crab had moved on to greener pastures. Or, another cement-bottomed steel-ribbed quasi-"cozy" square box, in the case of BPRD living quarters.

I have a much nicer, more "standardly appropriate" and livable arrangement here in Jersey. Notably sans-crab though, so this is what I was expecting Maury to thrust upon me.

John T. Myers is not a hermit crab. Actually, as I was being prodded uncomfortably toward him in the Professor's stately study and told I'd be his preliminary handler, I couldn't help but mockingly ask Maury how he'd known I'd always wanted "a cuddly-wuddly puppy".

"Sidney is one of our top special agents, and rather new to this facility herself." The Professor sidestepped my thick inappropriateness with masterful dexterity, "I think you two will get on famously." He added, sounding less sure of that the longer he watched my cheesy grin and innocently batting eyes.

"Just be quiet now, Sid." Maury told me, using the 'I'm still your boss' voice. The four of us wandered away. I waved to Abe. He returned a nonchalant flick of the wrist, chewing laboriously on his rotten egg. Before long the Professor had wrapped up the typical synopsis of the Bureau's history and founding, and was handing off a pair of Baby Ruths to Myers, one of which I quickly grabbed away from his limp grasp.

"Hey Clay." I intentionally rhymed in greeting to my fellow agent, stuffed tight into a sports coat and slacks as always.

"Sup Sid." He quipped back in usual custom before addressing Myers, who had the nomadic floating gaze of a man no longer sure of his place in the world. Then, "He saw Abe, I take it?" I nodded, "You told him about him?" He motioned behind the giant blast door beside us.

"Red Hot's too good a surprise to spoil with words." I shrugged. Clay sighed and proceeded to insert the massive metal key into its socket with the slightest hesitation.

"He might be a little on edge. The Professor had him grounded. Just give him the candy and try not to stare." Clay advised as Maury wordlessly helped him pull back the immense steel mechanism.

"Who's grounded?" Myers blubbered. With a roll of my eyes, I impatiently pushed my new ward into what would probably be the most terrifying fanboy moment of his life. He looked the type.

"You read those Hellboy comics, right?" I asked quickly. He didn't have time to tell me I was right though. He had seen him.

'Him' of course being my wonderful cherry-red partner, currently made perhaps even more red from being flushed as he lifted his daily reps. Clay was saying stuff to Myers again but I skillfully ignored most of that.

"60 years old, my ass, Clay." I said while heading over to give HB the pilfered Baby Ruth, "For you."

"Ain't you sweet, Sweetness." HB said both in response to the candy and my denial of Clay's 'reverse dog years' silliness, "You are best kind of people."

"I try." Then, at Clay's prompting, Myers handed over his candy as well.

"Only one? Most people know I like two." He responded, teeth bared faintly as they clenched down on the stub of a cigar. Maury gave me a steady, heavy-browed stare while Myers sputtered.

"I stole one." I told HB, coolly deflecting the heat of his disapproval off my charge, "Myers here is new and I'm his handler."

"So now I have to share you?" HB asked through a plume of choking smog.

"You've always shared me with Maury." I responded reasonably, following him over to his dresser. I stared at the odd pair we are in the mirror.

"Yeah but Maury knows not to get in my way." He said quietly, with a nod at the aforementioned stone-silent suit. He put down the cigar to trade instead for his spin-grinder; but in true BPRD fashion, he was swiftly interrupted by the alarm.

"That's a big one." I clarified for Myers, a little giddy and bouncing in time to the red alert.

"Stick close to her." HB said with sage slowness right into the gapping face of my charge, "She just loves to shoot things. Let's go." A gigantic meaty arm dropped onto my slim shoulders, steering me away from Myers and the other agents as fast as it could.

They were singing our song.