Chapter Text
Hellboy’s day was just getting worse and worse.
Between Manning being up his ass about being seen in public again, Myers being assigned as his new liaison, and the fact Liz was still not in the mood to see him, he already thought the day sucked.
Unfortunately for him, Sammael thought he needed even more of a reason to hate it. Hellboy had tracked the beast–or rather, one of them, if Abe’s rumor about a hive was true–to an abandoned part of the subway tunnels. He had gone alone, because it was his job and his mission to complete–Manning be damned.
Good ol’ Red was jostled out of his thoughts when Sammael’s bone club smacked him across the face. It was with enough force that he was sent through the brick wall of the tunnel into a closed off section of it. He could taste iron in his mouth from his own blood, but he chose to push through it. Hellboy stood up, grumbling to himself as he looked back out of the him-shaped hole in the wall.
Sammael gargled as it knuckle-walked through the hole, its mane of tentacles writhing above its head. It seemed to be mocking Hellboy as it walked through, letting out a brief screech.
“Hey, chunk-face,” Hellboy growled out, adjusting the Samaritan’s holster. “It’s not nice to throw people through walls.”
Sammael screeched again, circling Hellboy. Flexing his stone hand, Hellboy began to circle the Hound of Resurrection back, keeping his gaze focused on Sammael. He couldn’t help but notice something was up in this new section of tunnel. It seemed far older than he was expecting, and he noticed runes were drawn up on the walls. He could barely see–the only light being that let in from the hole Sammael made with him–but he was able to see enough to recognize it as cultist material.
He managed to snap back to reality when Sammael shot out its tongue at him. He grabbed it with his stone hand, wrapping it around his wrist to have a better hold.
“Ah ah, Sam! Not this time!” He grinned, spinning Sammael with a yell. The beast shrieked as it was thrown into one of the rune-covered walls, its tongue being released from Hellboy’s Right Hand of Doom. As it stood back up, Hellboy was already upon it–grabbing Sammael by its tentacle mane, slamming its head against the wall. As he spoke, he punctuated each word with another slam.
“Stay! Out! Of! My! World!” Hellboy snarled, making sure the last slam was the strongest yet. He then reared back his stone hand and went for a punch.
Unfortunately for him, Sammael still had enough clarity to move its head aside. Hellboy’s stone fist promptly burst through the wall, straight through a series of runes. Cursing, he found his hand stuck in the wall as he tried to free it.
Sammael seemingly mocked him with a chortle, so Hellboy rewarded the Hound with a headbutt straight to the forehead. As the beast hissed, Hellboy noticed the runes in the wall were glowing around his hand.
“. . . The hell?” he muttered, eyes widening as the glow got brighter and brighter. Even Sammael seemed to pause, head tilting.
Hellboy’s ears started to ring as a white flash enveloped them both.
Robert Robertson III entered his dispatching shift with the hope that maybe, just maybe, the Z-Team would finally focus on their jobs instead of mocking him.
He had promised Blonde Blazer that he would do his best to make the Phoenix Program succeed, but between that and trying to fix the Mecha Man suit, he was finding it hard to actually get his shit together. Shroud was still out there, and still a threat.
The only saving graces, he felt, aside from Blazer’s encouragement were Chase, Royd, and Beef. Chase and Beef kept him sane during work–especially when the Z-Team felt extra willing to get into antics–and Royd was a great help with fixing the Mecha Man suit.
Robert’s hand idly pet Beef as he kept his gaze on the dispatch terminal. The corgi had determined that his lap was the best place to take a nap, and Chase was too busy with his shift to keep an eye out on the lazy pup. But he didn’t mind; after Invisigal’s latest innuendo, petting the dog was giving him some well-earned reprieve.
It didn’t last long, however; the terminal lit up with an alert from the nearby mall. Raising a brow, Robert made sure his headset was active for the Z-Team to hear as he began to pull up the alert.
“Heads up, Z-Team, we’re getting an alert from the mall,” Robert called out, continuing to work with the terminal. “I’m pulling up a live feed now to get more information.”
“This better not be another Karen situation, Bob-Bob,” Flambae’s snark came in clear as day through the headset. “If it is, I’m giving her your number and calling it corporate.”
“Bitch, that’s petty. I like it,” Prism chuckled on her end.
“This seems serious, guys. I’m pulling up a camera feed right now–the hell?” Robert couldn’t hide his surprise.
From what little he could see on the CCTV footage inside the mall, he could tell some brawl was going on. He saw what seemed to be a red demon with shaved horns in a trench coat fighting some lovecraftian ape-dog in a fist fight. Neither were backing down, and he saw the ape-dog even throw the demon through one of the mall’s pillars.
“Malevola,” he barked out. “This one’s for you; looks like a demon and something else brawling it out in the food court.”
“Y’hear that, Malevola? One of your types is here. Vengeful ex?” Sonar chirped out.
“Not that I know of. What kinda demon we talkin’ ‘bout, babes?” Malevola asked, her tone curious for once.
“Looks like you but with shaved horns–also has a big stone fist,” Robert muttered. “The other…thing is some kind of frog-dog-ape–holy shit it has a long tongue.”
He barely even registered Invisigal quipping out “Oh I bet you’re jealous of what that could do, huh?”
“The fuck kind of a descriptor is that?” Flambae grumbled. “You can’t use your eyes and tell?”
“You’re not a master of zoology either, Flambae,” Coupé said. Flambae’s “shut the fuck up, Coupé” was drowned out by chuckles across the board.
“Enough,” Robert groaned. “Malevola, I’ve sent you the location, please–”
“Already on it, babes,” Malevola said. Robert could see her icon on the terminal heading straight to the mall.
He sighed, feeling Beef stir on his lap. He continued to pet the corgi.
Bags of chips were sent scattering across as Hellboy crashed through one of the concession stands in the mall’s food court. He preferred it to another brick wall, at least.
Standing up, he saw Sammael knuckle-walking towards him, chortling echoing out from the Hound’s maw. He knew he’d face shit for being seen in public again–though he had no idea where he even was right now–especially since there were a *lot* of panicked civilians around the two.
But he didn’t care; Manning could yip at him later, right now he needed to focus on getting rid of Sammael.
Feeling petty, Hellboy picked up a few fallen bags of chips. He shook one in front of Sammael’s gaze, tilting his head.
“Feeling hungry, Sam? ORDER UP!” he yelled, throwing the bags at Sammael.
They harmlessly bounced off of the Hound, making it rumble in confusion. It glanced down at the bags by his palms on the ground, not impressed. However, it gave Hellboy the distraction he wanted.
Rushing forward, Hellboy grabbed onto the two bony protrusions from Sammael’s skull, and used them to whip around and throw the Hound. The beast shrieked before it slammed against the fountain in the center of the food court, falling down into the water.
Hellboy smirked as he fixed his coat, before noticing something out of the corner of his eye. A swirling, purple vortex had formed on the wall–he was assuming it was some kind of portal–and before he could even let out a quip, a blur ran right through it.
He barely had time to hold up his stone fist and block a greatsword swing from a 6’6.6 demoness. Malevola then skidded past him as she readjusted her grip on the sword.
“Nice block,” she chuckled. “Bit surprised you didn’t try pullin’ out that gun there.”
“I ain’t the best shot–now who the hell are you?” Hellboy grumbled.
“Malevola–superhero at S.D.N. Though you look fresh outta Hell–curious if you know me.”
“Superhero, huh? Then I’m on your side, lady, stay out of my way.”
A snarl from the fountain got both of their attention. Sammael crawled out of the water, hissing as it shook itself dry. Malevola grimaced at the sight of the beast.
“What is that thing?” she asked.
Hellboy gave her a deadpan stare; “Lemme go ask.”
As he ran forward, Sammael surprised him by leaping over his head. The beast landed behind Hellboy and immediately began to gallop away. Malevola tried to intercept it with a swing of her sword, but Sammael twisted his arm in an unnatural, broken angle to dodge the attack.
“The fuck?” Malevola gasped, frowning. Hellboy ignored her and finally unholstered the Samaritan.
He tried to aim as Sammael began to gallop-crawl up the wall towards the food court’s skylight. Right as he felt confident enough to shoot, the Hound burst through the glass, heading onto the roof.
“Crap!” Hellboy shouted, ignoring the falling glass as he ran straight for the doors. Malevola instead steered him towards her portal.
“That heads outside a lot quicker!”
“Yeah, yeah, thanks!” he said over his shoulder, running through. He found himself out on the streets now, met with more surprised civilians.
Paying them no mind, Hellboy began to run down the street, looking up at the rooftops–Sammael was galloping across them, trying to run away. Hellboy glared and aimed the Samaritan up towards Sammael.
BANG! BANG! BANG! He fired off three shots, only one of them even grazing Sammael. He gritted his teeth, trying to focus on his final shot. If he could just nail Sammael right in the side, maybe–
He didn’t realize he had stepped onto the road until a police cruiser smashed right into him. He was sent tumbling across the road, the Samaritan skidding across the asphalt. He swore he heard a mocking roar from Sammael as the beast escaped from view.
Groaning, Hellboy sat up on his knees as he saw numerous police officers–both from the cruiser that had hit him and others behind it–aiming their weapons at him, demanding he freeze. Malevola passed by, about to keep running until Hellboy held up his stone hand.
“Stop–Sammy’s gone. You ain’t catching him,” he sighed. Malevola snorted as she faced him, her greatsword now on her back as she sheathed it.
“‘Sammy’, huh? Well…same side or not, demon boy, you’re comin’ for questionin’. Sorry, babes,” she chuckled, gesturing to the officers. They also seemed uncomfortable around her, but evidently they recognized who she was. She then tilted her head at Hellboy, waiting.
He grumbled, reluctantly raising his hands in surrender.
“Aw, crap.”
Manning was going to tear him a new one…if he could even find Hellboy.