Archive of Our Own

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.

Chapter Text

The aroma of freshly made coffee helped soothe Robert’s nerves. He hadn’t heard much about Malevola’s recent dispatch–just that the ape-dog got away and the other demon was being taken into custody for questioning. He was a bit impressed that Malevola didn’t just kill the demon, but at the same time he wasn’t sure why she didn’t. 

His mind was still stuck on his current dilemma. While Royd was useful with repairing the Mecha Man suit, they both didn’t have an answer for the Astral Pulse situation. He was certain they’d find a solution eventually, but with Shroud still out there, Robert wasn’t sure if “eventually” was good enough.

He was startled out of his thoughts by Chase appearing next to him by the coffee maker.

“It’s not like you to hide away next to the break room, Robert. You’re not turning into a little bitch, right?” Chase chuckled, pouring himself a cup.

“I’m not ‘hiding,’ Chase, I’m just clearing my mind before the Z-Team inevitably makes me the butt of another prank,” Robert grumbled, sipping from his mug. “Heard anything about that demon guy?”

“Oh, you mean the motherfucker with shaved horns? Blazer’s bringing him here.”

Robert almost choked on his coffee. He had expected the demon to be taken to the police or some S.D.N monitored sector, not the damn office building. Wiping his mouth, he glanced at Chase.

“Here? Why?”

“Turns out the big-ass demon wasn’t lying about doing ‘hero work’. He has an I.D on him marked with ‘B.P.R.D.”

“What’s it stand for?”

“How the fuck am I supposed to know? Blazer didn’t tell me that much,” Chase snorted, nudging Robert’s arm. “Normally I’d say ‘fuck it’ and argue that the motherfucker should be dealt with, but apparently he’s actually cooperating. How about that; a fucking demon is more polite than Invisibitch.”

Robert sighed. “Can we not start with that again? Please?”

“What? You know I’m right, Robert. Something’s off with that girl,” Chase huffed, glancing back towards the entrance to the office floor. “. . . Head’s up, I think they’re here.”

Following his gaze, Robert looked over just in time to see Blonde Blazer walk in with a few officers. At her side was Hellboy, looking bored to all hell. The demon flexed his stone hand, barely even glancing around the office.

“Nice place,” he gruffed out. “Very tacky. I’ll give you credit for keepin’ it clean.”

“You can thank Waterboy for that,” Blazer explained, trying to keep up a friendly appearance. Hellboy raised a brow at her words.

“Waterboy?” he asked. As if on cue, he heard someone vomit nearby. Waterboy was mopping up the water he spewed on the wall, minding his business at first. When he noticed Hellboy’s gaze, he flinched and awkwardly waved.

Hellboy stood still for a moment before waving back.

“Alright, look, we’ll just take a conference room right over here to talk in, alright?” Blazer asked, leading Hellboy further into the office. As they walked, for a brief moment, Robert and Hellboy locked gazes.

Robert narrowed his eyes as Blazer, Hellboy, and the officers entered the conference room, shutting the door behind them.

“Scary looking motherfucker,” Chase said. 

“Any idea what’s the deal with his hand? The stone one?” Robert inquired, eyebrow raising.

“I just told you I didn’t even know who he works for, how the fuck am I supposed to know the functionality of a big ass rock hand?”

Robert was quiet for a moment, before sipping his coffee; “Touché.”

Blonde Blazer had never felt more awkward in her life. Well, not quite; some of her dates with Phenomaman definitely had awkward energy to them. But at least there, she could write it away as just him having odd behavior due to being an alien.

Right now, Hellboy sat across from her at the conference room table, leaning back in his chair so he could rest his boots on the table. The officers stood by the door, looking both nervous and awkward themselves.

The silence was a bit uncomfortable, but Hellboy didn’t seem bothered at all.

“You gonna say somethin’, Blondie?” Hellboy quipped, idly tapping his stone fingers on the table. Blonde Blazer sat upright.

“Of course, of course. So, let’s get to proper introductions! I’m Blonde Blazer, a superhero who currently supervises the Torrance Branch of the S.D.N,” she said with a smile. It slightly faded when Hellboy didn’t react.

“‘Sup. Name’s Hellboy. Or ‘Red’ if you’re feelin’ lazy,” he uttered.

“Your I.D said the ‘B.P.R.D’ is the…’Bureau for Paranormal Research and Defense?’ Is that accurate?”

“Duh, you can read,” he chuckled. “My whole job is kickin’ monster ass. Was doin’ it just fine until your demon lady had to step in and let Sam get away.”

“‘Sam?’ Is that the name of the creature you were fighting at the mall? Just…Just Sam?” Blazer asked, looking confused. Hellboy shook his head, glancing at his Right Hand of Doom.

“Nah, that’s my nickname for him,” he elaborated. “Ugly’s real name is ‘Sammael.’ I can have Blue tell you more, he’s the bookworm of the group.”

When he noticed Blazer still looking confused, he sighed. “Blue’s a coworker. Real name’s Abe–call him Blue because his skin’s Blue. Fish guy.”

“I…I see,” Blazer muttered. She shifted in her seat. “So, hopefully you can understand my confusion but…we have no proof that a ‘B.P.R.D’ exists. Like, at all.”

“Makes sense, probably a different world or universe,” Hellboy said, quite casually. “Superheroes don’t exist back home, much less publicly, so I already had a hunch.”

Blazer went silent, mouth slightly agape. She never considered the prospect of another universe being involved. She supposed it did make sense in hindsight–Malevola had mentioned Hellboy looked strange for a demon, and literally none of the S.D.N’s beast archives had anything that resembled this “Sammael”--but she was still struggling to process it. A part of her was excited at what it could mean. Another part of her was nervous; she had to juggle helping Robert and trying to prove the Phoenix Program worked, but this only added–

A lightbulb went off in her head.

Starting to smile again, Blazer leaned forward. “Wait…your Bureau has ‘Defense’ in the title. Does that mean you assist paranormal things too?”

“Yeah. Usually not my job, but it’s part of Father’s mission,” Hellboy nodded.

Blazer took note of the fact Hellboy mentioned a “Father” but didn’t push. She stood up, resting her hands on the table. “Here at the Torrance Branch, we have what’s called the ‘Phoenix Program.’ The goal of the program is to take former supervillains and rehabilitate them into being superheroes–such as our Z-Team. We’ve been struggling to show S.D.N corporate that the program works, but maybe your Bureau could help! Would supervillains classify as ‘paranormal?’”

“Depends on their powers,” Hellboy explained. “But most likely, yeah, they would. Though my job ain’t to play nanny nanny with a bunch of angsty villains.”

“That’s okay! We can still use your assistance with Sammael while your Bureau focuses on the program! But we’d need to contact them; how did you get here?”

“I punched a wall and teleported,” he uttered. “Don’t ask me to repeat it because even I don’t know how it happened.”

Blazer just stared for a moment. “Shit.”

“Relax, Blondie,” Hellboy chuckled. “I’m sure Father and the rest of the Bureau will find me soon enough. I never can get far enough without them bein’ up my ass.”

Blazer paced a bit, running a hand through her hair. The gem on her chest pulsed; Hellboy noticed it immediately, but kept quiet.

“Right, right,” Blazer began. “Until…that all gets sorted out, you can help us with Sammael. The Z-Team should be able to help you hunt him-it-whatever down.”

“Woah, woah woah, lady. It’s my job, I don’t need any help from anybody!”

“Look, Hellboy, just; please? I think it’ll look good for both the Phoenix Program and your Bureau if you work together! It’ll make future work together so much easier! Please?” she pleaded. Hellboy grumbled, finding himself getting reminded of his father with how earnest Blazer was being.

“Fine,” he said after a pause. “But I’m in charge; Sam’s my expertise, not theirs.”

“Of course! We’ll introduce you to them and their dispatcher–you’ll be in contact with him through the team’s comm unit.”

Hellboy stood up, fixing his coat with a sigh. “Fair ‘nuff. But you better be giving me my baby back. The Samaritan gets jealous if I use other guns.”

“Right, right; I’ll get that settled before introductions,” Blazer smiled at him.

Hellboy, finally, smirked back.

Robert had his arms folded over his chest as he waited for Blazer to arrive with Hellboy. Sitting around the boardroom’s table was the entire Z-Team. He was slightly impressed that nobody was late for once, but he supposed they were all intrigued by Blazer asking them to meet Hellboy.

“So, Malevola–excited to have another demon on the team? Another lad?” Punch Up asked, grinning as he flexed his arm. Maleva snorted across from him.

“Eh, it’s interestin’, but nothin’ to write home about. Though, I do wonder if he also has a whole gang tryin’ to finger him.”

“He doesn’t have boobs, he’ll be fine,” Sonar said, waving his hand. Coupé grumbled from nearby, glaring at Sonar.

“Do you have to be such a pervert, all the time?” she hissed. Sonar merely shrugged. Flambae chuckled, playing with a small fireball in his hand.

“I guarantee you he can hold a better conversation than Bitch-Boy-Bob over there,” he flashed a grin at Robert. It turned smug at the chuckles around the table.

“Hell, he’d probably be a better dispatcher too,” Prism snickered, leaning in. “Think I’ll ask Miss Blazer about it.”

“Listen, Cardi C, Blonde Blazer assigned me to be your dispatcher for a reason, so I think she has faith in me,” Robert spoke up. “Last I checked she didn’t take opinions from people who look like they were dipped in FunDip.”

Prism frowned while the rest of the team “ooo”-d. Golem looked confused; he’d get it in a few hours. Invisigal chewed on her gum, for once staying quiet as she kept her eyes on Robert. The dispatcher in question felt something was up with her, but he wouldn’t bring it up now.

He and the Z-Team straightened up when the door to the boardroom opened. Blazer stepped in followed by Hellboy–who now had a cigar. He puffed it from his left hand, while his stone hand rested on the Samaritan’s holster.

“Gotta give you S.D.N fellas credit, some of you have good tastes in cigars,” Hellboy muttered, walking to stand at the head of the table. Blazer joined by his side, and even pulled Robert over to be next to her too. She flashed him a smile before facing the Z-Team.

“Everyone,” she began. “I would like to introduce you to Hellboy. He is a field agent of the ‘Bureau for Paranormal Research and Defense.’ He will be working with you to hunt down that monster that arrived with him at the mall.”

“What’d you call it again, Bobby? An ‘ape-dog-frog?’” Flambae sneered, letting the fireball in his hand extinguish. Hellboy gave him a pointed look.

“You got a better idea, Matchstick? It ain’t a bad descriptor if you don’t know what chunk-face is,” Hellboy met Flambae’s glare head on, noticing the pyrokinetic’s fist clenching. “Aw, strike a nerve? Don’t bother tryin’ to flame me either, pal, I’m fireproof.”

“Hellboy, please,” Blazer stepped in, wincing. “Focus on the mission?”

Robert, meanwhile, was slightly surprised at Hellboy coming to his defense.

The demon grumbled but nodded. “Chunk-face’s actual name is Sammael–Hound of Resurrection. He’s a tanky prick, and when you do eventually get his ass, he spawns two more of himself if he laid eggs.”

He glanced around the Z-Team, taking note of their various reactions. Most of them seemed like annoyance; something he agreed with them about, finally. Golem rumbled a bit.

“So, he’s just a big pain in the ass?” he asked.

“Sounds about right to me, Golem,” Punch Up uttered, shifting. “Might be fun punchin’ the crap out of ‘em though.”

Hellboy puffed the cigar, pointing to Punch Up with it. “I like your style, little man.”

“It’s ‘Punch Up.’”

“. . . The jokes just write themselves,” Hellboy snickered. He then glanced around the table. “Sam prefers places dark, wet, and humid. Ring any bells around here?”

“Torrance’s got a lot of sewer lines,” Invisigal said. “Might be hiding out down there if he likes things wet. Wouldn’t be my choice, but, hey, I’m not an ape-dog.”

“Not my choice of lines either,” Sonar commented. He was rewarded with a rough elbow from Malevola. 

“How effective are knives?” Coupé asked, trying to steer the conversation back. She frowned when Hellboy chuckled.

“Oh, you’re serious, birdie? Probably not much at all. You need a lotta damage to put Sam down for good. The best among you for that is probably Matchstick and Sword Girl if she can hit Sam’s head.”

“Bitch, then what they fuck we all gotta go hunting for?” Prism shouted, throwing a hand up. Sonar leaned forward a bit himself.

“Yeah, I’d rather be seeing what new investment tips Vanderstank recommends. Better than smelling like sewage.”

“You always smell like sewage, Sonar,” Malevola muttered. Instead of being offended, Sonar gave a brief “you’re right” gesture. Hellboy frowned and shook his head.

“Sam giving you trouble doesn’t mean you can’t destroy any eggs we find. And trust me; he’s laid plenty by now. Any other questions?”

The table was pretty silent. Until Invisigal started to chuckle and smirk.

“Those stone fingers good for any special activities?”

“Yeah, bashin’ skulls of people who annoy me.”

Invisigal shrugged, respecting the clap back. She leaned back and kept quiet. Flambae muttered something to himself but didn’t otherwise speak up. Blazer stepped forward slightly, taking over from Hellboy.

“While on the hunt, Hellboy and Robert will be in charge, so please listen.”

“What?” both of the aforementioned men said at the same time. They met gazes again; Robert noticed Hellboy almost seemed to be trying to get him to back down. So, in typical Robert fashion, he didn’t.

“I’m the Z-Team’s dispatcher, and I’ll effectively be dispatching Hellboy too.”

“I told you it was my job, Blondie.”

Blazer held up her hands, thankfully silencing them both. She put on a smile for the Z-Team. “It’s only for this mission, just until we can verify that Sammael has been dealt with, okay? Tomorrow, me, Robert, and Hellboy will coordinate where Sammael most likely has made a nest, then you’ll all go hunting. Dismissed.”

When Robert went to leave, Blazer stopped him. The Z-Team began to file out one by one. Notably, Flambae both gave Robert a glare and shoulder-checked Hellboy. The demon was more confused than actually bothered.

Sonar also nudged Hellboy on the way out. “I gotta tell you about crypto some day, I’ve got these new coin ideas that–”

Malevola dragged him out by his bat ears. Hellboy snorted, leaving once the Z-Team filed out. He glanced back at Blazer.

“So…do I have a place to stay or am I sleepin’ on the floor here?”

“You’ll be given a hotel for now. S.D.N will pick up the bill,” she said, a bit too quickly. Hellboy raised a brow but left, closing the door.

Blazer then faced Robert, looking more concerned than mad. “What was that about, with you and Hellboy? I didn’t think you’d throw a fuss over him leading.”

“It’s not a fuss, I’m just not sure we can truly trust this guy yet,” Robert elaborated. He glanced back at the door. “We know basically nothing about him, other than he’s trying to kill that ‘Sammael’ thing.”

“Well I’d trust him more than Sammael from what I’ve seen and heard,” Blazer countered, folding her arms. “Are you sure nothing else is up?”

Robert frowned, hesitant. He then sighed, meeting Blazer’s gaze. “Alright, fine. I’m just not sure how this will…affect progress with getting Mecha Man back on the scene.”

Blazer paused for a moment. She then softened a bit, placing a hand on Robert’s shoulder. “I…I see, that’s fair. It’s probably crazy that we’re dealing with someone from maybe another world or universe, huh?”

“No, it’s completely normal,” Robert quipped. “I’m always saying hi to newcomers from Earth 2 or some other planet.”

“Smartass,” Blazer chuckled, smiling warmly at him. “Still. If you need any help, I’m here for you, alright? Me, Chase, Royd–you’re not alone, Robert.”

Robert felt relief fill him for once. A part of him wanted to be stubborn, wanted to suggest he was just fine with what he had. But it failed; if anything, he leaned a bit more into Blazer’s touch on his shoulder.

“Thank you,” he said after a moment. “I’ll keep that in mind.” 

Blazer nodded, giving him another smile as she turned and left the room. Robert stood in place for a little moment longer, basking in the relief that she gave him.

From the outside, the Llewelyn Steel Works facility looked abandoned. Empty. Discarded as it basked in moonlight. In reality, business was going as per usual, at least by Shroud’s standards.

The Red Ring was hard at work developing new augmentations. Shroud had decided to actually be present on the facility floor itself instead of the control room to see how production was going.

Hands behind his back, Shroud paced around the facility, keeping his gaze on the newly created augmentations. He still had no leads on where the Astral Pulse was, if it was still around at all. Such uncertainty bothered him, but he wouldn’t let it control him. As long as Mecha Man’s suit was out of commission, there was no rush searching for the Pulse. That didn’t stop a piece of him from being at least a bit peeved.

“I see you are making excellent progress, Mr. Connors.”

With a speed that hid his shock, Shroud whipped around and aimed his revolver in the direction of the voice. The Red Ring members froze their production, stepping back.

From the darkness came a bald man in an overcoat, his eyes hidden by sunglasses despite the time of night; Grigori Rasputin in the flesh. He held a book in front of himself, grinning at Shroud.

“Good reaction time, too.”

“Who the fuck are you?” Shroud demanded from behind the mask, trying to keep the growl out of his voice. Internally, he was pissed–why hadn’t his prediction software detected this?

“I would advise against wasting a bullet on me, my son,” Rasputin calmly said.

“I said; who the fuck are you!?” Shroud shouted this time, reiterating his aim on Rasputin. Shroud’s anger turned into brief confusion when Rasputin chuckled.

“Many wouldn’t ask who,” the old cultist began. “But what.”

Holding up his hand, Rasputin allowed Shroud to see that something was wriggling under his skin. Shroud lowered the gun, but didn’t entirely stop aiming. His masked gaze met Rasputin’s hidden one, neither man backing down.

“Get on with it,” Shroud rumbled. Rasputin paced, relaxing his posture.

“I am Grigori Rasputin, my son. Prophet of the Ogdru-Jahad. I hail from the same universe that the beast originates from. I know you know who I speak of; the creature taken in by the S.D.N.”

Shroud hid his surprise that Rasputin was aware of his knowledge about Hellboy. Shroud tightened his grip on his revolver, but lowered it a bit more.

“I have no intention of working with a cultist,” he said.

“I understand,” Rasputin uttered, facing Shroud. “But I believe we can both benefit from an alliance. My masters will pay you handsomely for your assistance, and I can assist you with the Astral Pulse.”

“How did you–”

“You will learn in due time, Mr. Connors, that there are many facets of knowledge I have been blessed by. Me and cohorts alike.”

From the darkness behind Rasputin revealed Kroenen–twirling baton-style knives as he breathed through his mask–and Ilsa, carrying a separate book herself. Kroenen remained silent while Ilsa stepped up directly next to Rasputin.

“The enemy of our enemy is our friend. Does that not ring a bell?” she asked, smirking. Rasputin placed a hand on her shoulder.

Shroud didn’t respond. He tried to think and predict all of the possible outcomes. Part of him was tempted to just shoot all three of them and get back to business. But as he considered it, gurgling echoed out of the darkness. Shroud’s men backed away in a mixture of disgust and horror as something crawled out of the darkness next.

Sammael. The beast drooled all over the ground, waiting patiently by Rasputin’s feet. The former man began to walk towards Shroud.

“Join me, Mr. Connors. Combine our might, and we will be unstoppable. No heroes, no child of the apocalypse, no reformed villains could stop us. A new age will be born–and you will be at the top of the heap.”

Rasputin offered his hand. Shroud stared at it for a long moment. After a few more predictions, he finally holstered the revolver…and shook Rasputin’s hand.

Rasputin grinned, chuckling to himself. Sammael gargled, turning and knuckle-walking back into the darkness.

He was joined by a second Sammael.

Chapter Text

To say John Myers was feeling stressed was an understatement.

It was just his luck that not too long after being the Bureau’s freshest field agent–and now, the new liaison of their mascot–that everything would go to hell. Hellboy was M.I.A, as was Sammael, and Professor Bruttenholm seemed to be getting sicker by the day.

Myers could tell that the aging man was also stressed. No matter how well he hid it, no father could hide his fear over his son’s well-being. 

Standing inside of Hellboy’s designated room within the depths of the Bureau’s Newark H.Q, Myers was trying to distract himself by feeding all of Hellboy’s cats. He knew Red must’ve been missing them, wherever he was, and that it would maybe help their dynamic if Myers showed he cared.

Then again, Hellboy would probably be pissy that Myers was touching the cats in the first place.

Myers glanced over when he heard the vault-like door open up. He was met with Agent Clay walking in, fixing his long coat’s lapel. The former liaison took a deep breath as he looked around the room.

“Feels quiet with Red gone,” Clay said. “Broom and Abe are gonna be back any minute. They’ll probably want to talk.”

“Where did they go, anyway?” Myers asked, standing up after making sure Miss Mittens ate. 

“To grab Liz Sherman. We don’t know if her relapse is tied to Red’s disappearance, or if she even knows he’s gone, but the professor thought it’d be better to have her here.”

“What about Director Manning? I thought he’d be delighted that his pain-in-the-neck is gone,” Myers tried to joke, but his chuckle faded away at Clay’s lack of a reaction.

“Manning’s on the verge of freaking out because he thinks Red being gone is a sign that something very wrong is happening,” Clay explained. “Not all of us are so doom-and-gloom but it’s a possibility.”

Clay glanced down at his watch. He then motioned for Myers to follow him as he left Hellboy’s room. The younger agent briskly obliged, struggling to close the door on the way out. He then jogged to catch up with Clay as they walked down the Bureau’s halls. Slowly but surely, the halls were beginning to feel like home to Myers, in a way. Less like his own and more like an in-laws’ though.

He had somewhat gotten used to the residents of the facility. The odd beasts and creatures that were either contained or considered other employees in their own right. They still made him feel unsettled, to a degree, but Clay and Bruttenholm had both informed him that such feelings were normal for new agents.

The two soon arrived at the main hallway leading to the elevator entrance of the Bureau. Up ahead, Agent Lime was waiting, fixing his tie as he glanced at the approaching men.

“The Professor and Blue have Liz. E.T.A three minutes,” stated Lime, nodding at them.

“Got the E.T.A earlier from Manning. Thanks, Lime,” Clay responded, standing next to the agent. Myers awkwardly hovered beside the two, looking like a fish out of water. He somewhat mimicked the agents’ stature, but found it not how he’d typically rest in place. Myers then perked up when he heard the B.P.R.D logo-shaped elevator beginning to lower–sure enough, about three minutes after he and Clay had arrived.

As the elevator stopped, Myers could see Trevor Bruttenholm, Abe Sapien, Agent Moss, and Agent Quarry all standing. Hidden behind Bruttenholm and Abe was Liz Sherman, fresh bags under her eyes. Myers knew she wanted to blend in with society instead of being seen with the Bureau–to willingly arrive with all of them must’ve been a show of how much Hellboy’s disappearance was affecting her.

Bruttenholm stepped forward, offering a tired smile–though even Myers could tell it was a facade, hiding the stress beneath.

“Agent Myers, I’m glad to see that Clay and Lime convinced you to come say hi,” the old man chuckled.

“O-Of course, sir. I was just making sure Red’s cats were fed and healthy.”

“He did it without asking, no less,” Clay said. “I think even Red would thank him for it.”

“Let’s not be silly now, Red seldom voices his gratitude,” Abe quipped. The fish-man assisted both Bruttenholm and Liz with walking off of the elevator. Moss and Quarry walked over to Lime and Clay.

“Any updates on finding Red?” asked Quarry, raising his brow.

“None at all,” responded Lime. “We know he went A.W.O.L to track down Sammael, but other than that we don’t have any clues.”

Moss sighed, shaking his head. “Damn. Manning’s not gonna like this. Who’s going to tell him?”

Clay, Lime, Quarry, and Moss all looked over at Myers. Before the new agent could say anything, Bruttenholm cleared his throat.

“None of you will. I will speak to Tom myself. I’d like to thank you all for your continued efforts to find my son. Now please–be good hosts for Elizabeth while I am gone.”

With that said, Bruttenholm limped away, using his cane for assistance. He gave a grateful smile to the agents and others as he passed by. Clay, Lime, Quarry, and Moss all dispersed. Myers, to his credit, remained by Liz and Abe’s sides.

“How are you both…feeling?” he awkwardly asked. He briefly made eye contact with Liz.

“Physically? Quite peachy. Mentally? Deeply concerned,” Abe answered honestly. His large eyes blinked, the water in his breath apparatus bubbling up. “How about you, Agent Myers? Are you feeling more at home at the Bureau?”

“We can worry about me after we pinpoint Hellboy’s location,” Myers replied.

A small chuckle from Liz made both him and Abe glance at her. She had a tiny smile–nearly faded, but still there–on her face. “It’s a little funny. Red spoke of you like a jealous toddler.”

“That isn’t surprising at all,” Abe huffed. “He can be quite immature when it comes to spending time with you, Liz. He’s like a big monkey.”

“A stubborn monkey,” Liz agreed, though her tone was both fond and solemn. She glanced off to the side, trying to distract herself from her worries. Myers initially went to place a hand on her shoulder, but he decided against it. He then took a deep breath.

“I…haven’t run it by the others, yet, but I may have an idea for where Red ran off to based on some mapping I’ve done,” he spoke. 

Abe and Liz both glanced at him with varying degrees of hope. Liz in particular stepped closer.

“Are you certain?” she asked, a slight tremor to her. “Are you absolutely certain?”

“I think it will give us a lead, at least? What do you think, Abe?” Myers replied. Abe began to tap his chin, humming.

“I think it would be beneficial to mention this to the professor and Director Manning. Come.”

The fish-man promptly led Liz and Myers down the halls.

Bruttenholm sighed as he shakingly sat down in a chair in front of Tom Manning. He met up with the F.B.I Head of Operations and Director of the B.P.R.D alone in his personal study. Abe’s tank sat off to the side, water bubbling–Manning barely paid it any mind as he glanced around all the bookshelves.

“It’s good to hear Ms. Sherman is doing well,” Manning muttered. “I wouldn’t know what to do if she was also causing problems, Trevor.”

“Tom, please. Do not speak of these people–including my son–as if they are freaks,” Bruttenholm pleaded, wiping his forehead with a handkerchief. The professor glanced up at Manning, studying the Director’s tense posture.

“Can you blame me, Trevor? We have no idea where Hellboy is, we have no clue if this ‘Sammael’ is still out at large, and you have concerns about this ‘Rasputin’ figure arising. Forgive me for not wanting even more problems on our plate!” Manning huffed.

“I understand your concern, Tom. I simply think now is not the time to be provoking,” Bruttenholm clarified. “Surely you can understand why a father like I would be worried?”

Manning was silent for a moment. “I do, Trevor,” he said softly. “I do. I don’t know why you consider that thing your son, but I understand your worry. I just hope you realize one day he’s a liability.” 

Their argument was interrupted by Abe entering the study, Myers and Liz close behind him. As he approached the two men, Abe cleared his throat.

“Professor Broom, Director Manning. Agent Myers believes that he may have an idea for how to find Hellboy,” Abe said, stepping aside to let Myers take the mantle.

The new agent looked nervous when Manning and Bruttenholm both faced them, but he gained some confidence when the professor gave him a grateful nod. He then straightened his posture.

“I looked into the last few moments of Red’s locator belt we have tracked and compared it to maps from Newark. It took a while, but I managed to find out his pattern followed one of the subway maps–actually, it showed him going into the abandoned areas before his trace ‘vanished.’ It’s not much but it’s something; it’s map 2b if you’re curious.”

Manning immediately got to work, speaking into his comm unit. “Agent Quarry, Agent Lime; Agent Myers just brought up a potential lead in the abandoned subway tunnels found on map 2b. Head out there and see if there’s anything of note.”

Giving a brief nod to Myers, Manning then left the room quickly. Bruttenholm chuckled tiredly, standing up as he gave Myers a proud smile.

“And you wonder why I offered you a position, Agent Myers? You have the initiative.”

“Just doing my job, sir,” Myers meekly replied. Bruttenholm merely hummed, somewhat smugly, facing Abe and Liz.

“Reminds me of my son. ‘Just doing my job.’ Poppycock,” Bruttenholm jested. “You have the care and initiative to be a proper agent. Accept that. Let’s hope your idea gives us more leads to my son.”

Bruttenholm then limped over to speak to Abe in hushed tones. For a brief moment, Myers and Liz locked gazes.

He swore she looked grateful

Tiger purred into Liz’s hand as the pyrokinetic pet his ears. The domestic cat was a sucker for attention, and with Hellboy gone, Liz was provided plenty for him.

Liz, meanwhile, was using the affection from all of Hellboy’s cats as an excuse to calm herself down. Her relapse had made things…difficult, to say the least. She had thought she was finally gaining control over her pyrokinesis, only for that one night to make her afraid of herself all over again. As much as Hellboy’s constant visits and pleas to come back to the Bureau annoyed her, she admittedly was beginning to miss it.

It made her wonder if maybe she truly did want to return, deep down. But the mental hospital had done a lot of great work keeping her calm–whether it be by therapy or medication–and keeping her in control of her emotions. And yet…she still felt lost. Still felt like a freakshow. Still felt like she didn’t belong in the world.

She glanced up when Myers entered Hellboy’s room. He offered an awkward smile as he nodded at her.

“Hey, uh, Abe said you were here. Y’like cats? Like Red does?” Myers asked.

Liz took a moment to respond. “They were the best part of his room, I suppose,” she chuckled. She continued to pet Tiger as Myers took another step closer.

“You…doing alright? Any better? I heard you relapsed but the professor still seems confident in your progress.”

“Of course he is,” Liz muttered. “Professor Broom’s always been confident. But someone else’s confidence in me doesn’t solve my problems, John. I need to do it myself.”

“Oh, that’s fair. I get it–well, not not to the same extent but that…isolation? I get that, in a way. It’s pretty isolating here being so new and, well, human.”

“At least you’re not seen as a freak,” Liz deadpanned.

Myers went silent at that, a bit afraid he overstepped. He relaxed slightly when Liz didn’t seem offended. He still took a seat nearby her, watching as the absurd amount of cats swarmed Liz.

“They really like you, huh?” he asked, smiling a bit.

“Mmhm. I always snuck them treats while Red was off monster hunting,” Liz said. Her smile slightly returned when she continued to pet the cats. “I think they like me more than him. But don’t tell him that, he’ll get jealous.”

Myers chuckled a bit. He leaned back a bit. “I don’t know. If it’s you, he’ll probably be happy. You’re a soft spot for him.”

Liz paused for a moment. She relaxed her hand, sighing to herself as she gave a curt nod.

“You’re right. Most people would call it obsession, but I know it’s just because I’m the only one he’s ever felt that connection to. Him and Abe are good friends, yes, but he and I are…something. I don’t know what anymore.”

Wisely, Myers chose not to push. He bent down to pet one of the cats himself, huffing when the cat chose to ignore him in favor of Liz.

Both of them perked up when the door opened once more–this time much more hastily. Clay had practically barged in, out of breath.

“Kid, you’re a genius,” he said, grinning. “Lime and Quarry found some kind of portal in that tunnel–it’s even moveable. They’re bringing it back to the Bureau so we can bring some vehicles and supplies with us. Good job!”

Clay was already gone before Liz and Myers could say anything. Myers himself was feeling hope, but he noticed that Liz–for the first time since they met–was actually beaming as she stood up.

“Oh thank God. Maybe we found him!” Liz smiled, rushing out after Clay. Myers stumbled a bit as he tried to follow, fixing his suit coat.

“Alright, Red. We’re coming for you.”

Chapter Text

Shroud was still trying to get his systems to comprehend exactly just what the hell he was even looking at.

Up on top of some heavy machinery within the facility, a Sammael was resting more like a dog, letting an arm hang over the edge as it stared right back at Shroud. He found the beast utterly fascinating. So strongly built, so ape-like, and yet it had a bizarre skull and tentacles for hair. Whatever the beast was, he knew it wasn’t from the mortal realm.

“He’s such a beautiful creature, is he not?” Ilsa’s voice came from behind Shroud. “The Hound of Resurrection–fall in battle only to be reborn. Again, and again, and again.”

Shroud glanced at Ilsa as she stepped up next to him. He fixed his thick coat before placing his hands behind his back.

“I don’t know about beautiful, Ms. Haupstein. But he is definitely fascinating. I do wonder how my augments would affect such a beast.”

From nearby in the shadows, Rasputin let out a deep chuckle.

“Excellent idea, Mr. Connors,” he said calmly. “But we should save such ideas for later use. For now I must ask–the Astral Pulse belonged to the ‘Mecha Man’ suit, yes, but is the man inside the machine dead?”

“No,” Shroud responded, but kept his gaze on Sammael. “Its pilot, Robert Robertson III is still out there. A dispatcher for the S.D.N.”

Rasputin tilted his head, his voice having a sinister undertone to it. “Is that so?”

The cultist then looked at Sammael, holding out his hand. Sammael chortled as it stood up, jumping down from its perch. It landed with a loud thump, sitting in front of Rasputin like a loyal dog.

Rasputin then placed his hand against Sammael’s head.

“Go hunt down this ‘Robert.’ Either slay him or learn his behaviors. Either will be of use.”

“What?” Shroud marched over. “We may need him for the Astral Pulse–”

He was stopped by Rasputin holding his other hand up. 

“At ease, Mr. Connors,” Rasputin calmly said. “I can assure you that we will find it regardless of Robert’s survival or not. You have no need to worry about anything. Now, Sammael; go forth and commence your hunt.”

He removed his hand from Sammael’s head. The beast warbled before galloping out of the facility. Shroud clenched his fist, remaining quiet even as Ilsa snickered. Rasputin then faced Shroud once more, head tilting.

“As for Kroenen’s upgrades, Mr. Connors?” he asked.

Shroud merely gestured aside. Kroenen walked over, breathing from his mask audible, and slid a leather long coat on–covering the new Red Ring augments hooked up to his back.

“Just as you requested; amplified strength and increased speed. He’ll be able to keep up with most heroes now,” Shroud explained, sounding prideful of his work.

Rasputin grinned. “Excellent work, Mr. Connors. Kroenen–go keep an eye on Sammael’s hive beneath Torrance.”

Flashing his blades, Kroenen let out a raspy chuckle.

Hellboy had to admit, it felt nice walking around the streets of Torrance. Not because he preferred it over Newark or anything, but this new place–whether it be world or universe–was so…refreshing. He wasn’t being called a monster, he wasn’t being told to stay in the shadows and never show his face.

Yes, he got odd looks every now and then for being a demon, but there were no screams or people freaking out. He felt…normal. No wonder Liz was so adamant about wanting to fit in, it felt great.

Arriving at the S.D.N building via a bus, Hellboy lit his cigar as he got off; he had been itching to smoke it the entire time, but he didn’t want to get in trouble and give the S.D.N any excuse to lock him up. When the bus drove off, he also pulled a secret can of beer out from his coat. He downed it in one gulp before throwing it in the trash can next to the door. Puffing his cigar, he then entered the building.

He only gave a brief wave to the clerks at the front desk, not caring what they were saying about “smoking in the office.” He wasn’t here for corporate shit, he was here to hunt down Sammael and get back home. Easy.

As he entered the elevator, he found himself joined by a large Samoan man. The man chuckled at the sight of him, grinning slightly. The doors soon closed, and Hellboy only just now realized how big the bastard actually was.

“Wassup, braddah,” Royd began. “Howzit goin’? You da demon Malevola ran into, yea?”

“Name’s Hellboy. You’re almost makin’ me jealous of my own arms. Almost,” Hellboy said, smirking as he flexed his left arm.

Royd laughed. “Ah! Don’t feel bad, braddah. Me Aunty name me ‘Roy,’ but everybody call me ‘Royd’ ‘cause they think Roy ain’t natty. But Roy 100% natty, fo sho! Eat a lotta protein and work out, das how! You like work out?”

“Yeah, I’d say so, pal,” Hellboy replied. “But I betcha I can still out-strongman you any day of the week.”

“Oh, fo sho, fo sho!” Royd chuckled. “You a demon and all that; but hey, stay humble, no grumble. Know what I mean?”

Hellboy waved him off. Royd then frowned when he saw Hellboy puffing his cigar. The Samoan chuckled a bit out of disbelief.

“Braddah,” he began. “Blazer going go all jam up if she catch you smoking dat.”

“Let her try. I ain’t one of her sycophants, she just wants me usin’ her special team for my job. Don’t mean I gotta change,” Hellboy responded, purposefully puffing the cigar again.

The elevator arrived at the office floor. Royd shook his head as he stepped out, waving at Hellboy as he left.

“You lolo, braddah. See you around.”

“Cya, pal,” Hellboy gave a half-assed wave back. He walked out onto the office floor himself, pacing around the floor. He drank in the stares from the dispatchers present, not giving a damn about how they felt.

He only paused when Waterboy, up ahead, vomited water onto the ground, before mopping it up. He then flinched at the sight of Hellboy, nervously smiling.

“O-Oh! I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t see you there! I-I, uh…I-I won’t g-g-get you wet, honest!” the poor thing stammered.

Hellboy snorted. “Relax, kid, I don’t bite people, only monsters. Don’t spray me and we’ll be peachy.”

Waterboy stammered too much to make a proper response, before settling on an awkward smile and a thumbs up. Hellboy gave one back without even looking at him, continuing to walk through the office floor.

As he rounded the corner, he was met with the sight of Chase holding Beef, muttering something about “good boy” as he gave the dog belly rubs. He then looked up and spotted Hellboy, snorting.

“Damn. You still a scary motherfucker in person,” he said, continuing to pet Beef.

“Name’s Hellboy. What’s yours; Einstein?” Hellboy responded, puffing his cigar. Chase rolled his eyes as he stepped closer–not afraid to be nearly in the 6’5 demon’s face.

“Oh real clever, like I ain’t heard that one before. It's just Chase. Here, stop being a bitch and pet the dog. Beef’s a good boy,” Chase grumbled, offering up Beef. He frowned when Hellboy looked disgusted.

“. . . I don’t like dogs. I’m a cat person.”

“Just pet the damn thing, he’ll change your mind.”

“He looks like a mangy mutt, why would I pet it?”

Chase glared, holding Beef with one hand while he poked Hellboy’s chest with a finger. “You have just declared World War III, motherfucker.”

Hellboy snorted, hearing a few “ooo”-s from nearby. Glancing back, he saw Invisigal recording them with a smirk and Prism snorting, also recording. Flambae was there as well, but he looked less amused, glaring at Hellboy. 

It was the first time Hellboy didn’t have to worry about footage getting out since this world already accepted the existence of people like him.

“Make sure to get my good side, punk-face,” Hellboy called out, playfully tilting his head slightly.

“Your good side is still a 2/10, demon-bitch,” Flambae hissed out. Prism laughed, recording Flambae now. Hellboy clicked his tongue, gesturing at Flambae.

“Bait used to be believable, Matchstick,” he said, grinning. “It’s funny, you’re a flame guy and yet you’re cookin’ without gas.”

Flambae growled as Prism and Invisigal both chuckled. He marched forward up to Hellboy, fists clenching. To his credit, the demon didn’t back down–instead he stepped up as well. Chase narrowed his gaze, shielding Beef slightly.

Luckily, Blonde Blazer poked her head out of her office, looking towards Hellboy. “Hellboy! You’re here! Good. Me and Robert need to speak to you to finalize the mission.”

As she retreated back into the office, Hellboy mockingly sighed. “Saved by the bell.”

“Oh please,” Flambae sneered. “I would’ve wiped the floor with your red ass. Lil’ bitch ass demon-bitch.”

Hellboy merely waved him off, only pissing off Flambae more. “Whatever makes you sleep at night, Matchstick.”

Flambae glared as Hellboy marched away towards Blazer’s office. He clenched his fists, fire brewing in his palms, but he bit back the urge to shoot flames out at Hellboy. He remembered the demon mentioning he was fireproof, and he didn’t want to deal with the disciplinary paperwork.

So, reigning in his ego, Flambae chose to instead stomp away himself, muttering something about Hellboy being a bitch again. Chase shook his head, finding the display shameful. He noticed Beef sneezing and also noticed Invisigal had seemingly vanished. Prism had already sauntered off to the break room.

Chase grumbled to himself, but smiled when Beef barked up at him.

Blazer considered herself a paragon of patience, believing she had to be to manage the Phoenix Program. But right now that patience was being tested really hard.

Hellboy sat across from her at her desk, resting his feet on it–despite the fact she had chosen to have a map of Torrance’s utilities on it. Standing next to him was Robert, his arms folded over his chest as he narrowed his gaze at Hellboy. The two had not shut up since Hellboy sat down.

“Her desk isn’t your personal foot massage station,” Robert grumbled. “She brought a map for you to look at.”

“Listen, Bobby, I know what I’m doin’. I don’t need Blondie to handhold me,” Hellboy responded.

“She’s not handholding you, she’s providing us a chance to be grown men and use our adult voices to make a plan of action, Red.”

“See–I don’t like that tone, Bob. You’re not the monster hunter here, I am. So be a good dispatcher and let the experts handle Sam, alright?”

“Expert?” Robert scoffed. “The only thing you’ve been an expert at is shoving cigars down your throat.”

Hellboy stood up, looming over Robert. But Robert didn’t back down, instead he met Hellboy’s glare head on. He wasn’t scared of Hellboy; quite the opposite. Instead he felt that Hellboy was just another member of the Z-Team he had to treat like a child. Hellboy grumbled, not backing down either.

“It’s my job, Bob. So you just do your thing or whatever the hell it is you do as a ‘dispatcher’ and let me turn chunk-face into chunks, alright?”

“Or,” Robert began. “You can take this pompous arrogance and stick it up your–”

“Guys, please just focus for once! Shit!” Blazer shouted, standing up herself. “This isn’t about measuring dicks, this is about stopping Sammael!”

Hellboy and Robert both glanced at Blazer before looking back at one another. With grumbles from them both, they stepped away from one another. Hellboy stepped closer to the desk, looking down at the map. After a quick glance, he jabbed a stone finger down on a place marked as a culvert nearby the mall that led into the Torrance sewers.

“There. Since there’s no news of manholes bein’ thrown around, and this dump is right by that mall, I’ll bet Sammy ran off there to make his nest,” Hellboy explained, his tail flicking for a moment.

Blazer rubbed her chin as she glanced down at the map, trying to hide her worry. “Do you think the nest’s…grown? If it’s bad enough I may have to request the A-Team from D.T.L.A.”

Hellboy chuckled, eyes looking up at her. “Nah. Ugly takes a while to incubate. There may be a few but nothin’ city threatenin’.”

With a tilt of her head, Blazer glanced at Robert for any input. He merely shrugged, but still stepped forward. “Comms for the Z-Team should still work down there, as should their trackers for dispatch.”

“Then it’s settled!” Blazer clapped her hands, smiling. “Hellboy, we’ll give you a comm and tracker unit so you can continue to speak with Robert during the mission.”

“There a way I can avoid chattin’ with Bobby?” Hellboy grumbled, fixing the Samaritan’s holster. Robert rolled his eyes.

Blazer frowned a bit, nudging Hellboy as she rounded the desk. “Don’t be like that. We’re all on the same side here, okay? Just…do your best and make sure Sammael is dealt with.”

With a long, exaggerated sigh, Hellboy gave her a curt nod in response. He then left the office, cracking his neck. Once the door closed, Robert faced Blazer, frowning himself.

“I’m telling you, Blazer, I don’t like this. This guy is going to cause nothing but trouble.”

“Do you have any better ideas, Robert?” Blazer hissed. She then immediately winced. “. . . Sorry, that was uncalled for.”

“No, no, it’s okay,” Robert muttered, placing a hand on her shoulder. “You’re stressed out, Blazer. I get it. I’ll try to make sure Red behaves. You can count on me.”

Blazer smiled a bit. “I know. Do your best, I have to go help the D.T.L.A branch with a high-tier subscriber call, so I’ll be away from the office for a little while. You think you’ll be okay?”

Robert nodded, placing his hands in his pockets. “I’ll be fine. Nothing worse than the Z-Team has already put me through. Don’t let it stress you out.”

With a breath of relief, Blazer offered him a grateful smile.

Hellboy puffed a new cigar as he and the Z-Team approached the culvert. The sun was hot and the stench coming from inside the culvert was palpable. Though, he had smelled far worse while doing other jobs for the B.P.R.D. He glanced back as he heard various grumbles of disgust from the Z-Team, flashing them a grin.

“Oh, don’t quit on me now, fellas,” he said. “Fun’s just gettin’ started.”

“You call this shit fun, demon-bitch?” Prism groaned. “I don’t think this stank will ever wash off my outfit. You paying for dry-cleaning?”

Hellboy merely shrugged, continuing to walk towards the culvert. “Not my problem, Candy Hair.”

“The fuck you calling ‘Candy Hair,’ bitch?” Prism growled, glaring harder after she heard Punch Up chuckling. She flipped him off before looking back at Hellboy. When the demon didn’t answer she instead huffed to herself–glaring again when Coupé brushed by with a shoulder-check. Golem approached the culvert, only to pause when he realized he couldn’t fit.

“Damn. Guess I’m sitting this one out,” he shrugged. Hellboy gave him a pat on the shoulder before walking in.

“Just keep an eye out, big guy. Sam likes to run when things don’t go his way. Sound familiar?” Hellboy flashed a grin at Flambae. The pyrokinetic just glared at him. Punch Up chuckled again, hobbling his way inside of the culvert.

“I like this guy. He’s a real ball-buster.”

“I don’t know, I’ve seen Harvard graduates with better wit,” Sonar hummed, letting out a brief shriek to get a feel for the culvert. “Honestly kinda cringe.”

“Sonar,” Malevola started, almost sounding like a mother scolding her child as she stepped through. “Shut the fuck up.”

“Duly noted, Malevola.”

Golem took a seat outside of the culvert giving Invisigal a brief nod as she patted his arm before entering after the rest of the Z-Team. 

The culvert led deeper into the sewers. The smell was disgusting, and the only light were dim lamps left behind for service workers. Hellboy looked right at home judging by how casually he walked through the corridors; the Z-Team continued to just grumble. Hellboy placed a finger up to his ear, where a S.D.N comm unit was located.

“Come in, Bob. Do you copy? Still see us?” he spoke into it.

“First of all, it’s Robert, and yes, I do still see you and hear you. Unfortunately,” Robert responded, voice crackling through the comm units.

“This is bullshit, Robbo. You should be down here doing this. My suit’s going to get literal shit all over it now,” Flambae grumbled. He growled when he heard Hellboy let out a brief howl of laughter.

“Well, Flambae, take it as a sign to put some effort into the whole ‘rehabilitation’ thing and maybe you’ll no longer be doing sewer missions, okay?” Robert said.

“Oh no-no-no-no, I will not be lectured about heroism by you, Robert. Unlike you I’m an actual, real, actual superhero, not some boy scout with a headset,” Flambae hissed. 

“You said ‘actual’ twice, that’s redundant,” Robert dryly replied. Back in the office building, he winced when Flambae responded with a series of loud expletives.

“Enough. You, demon,” Coupé approached Hellboy. “Where would this ‘Sammael’ most likely make a nest?”

“Somewhere dark and wet–could be any part of this place,” Hellboy responded, leading the group to a fork in the sewers. “Though Ugly would probably prefer open places.”

He then frowned and grabbed Invisigal’s shoulder when she tried to walk past him. “Where do you think you’re going, punk-face?”

Invisigal, a bit surprised at being stopped, shoved his hand away. She glared at him. “Uh, looking for the nest, dumbass?”

“Really? And how are you going to deal with a Sam or two? Toss a cigarette at them?” Hellboy snarked. Invisigal rolled her eyes.

“Relax, dude. I’m sure it will be fine–”

“No. It’s my job. If you want to go get yourself killed, be my guest, but huntin’ Sam is my goal.”

“Then what the fuck are we even here for, huh?” Invisigal snarled, throwing her hands up. Robert’s voice tried to chirp through the comm units.

“Guys, enough. Focus on the–”

“You being here was all Blondie’s idea, not mine. If it were up to me, you wouldn’t be down here,” Hellboy grumbled. He then raised a brow when Invisigal punched his chest.

“Fine then, dick! Hunt that freak without me!” she hissed, vanishing from sight.

Punch Up groaned, looking around. “Visi, don’t be like that! Visi! Visi!”

He heard what sounded like footsteps heading down one of the paths of the fork. He shook his head, glancing back at the others. “I’ll go wrangle ‘er up.”

As he ran down the corridor, Robert’s voice began to chirp through the comm units again. “What the hell is going on down there? Z-Team–”

“Bob?” Hellboy waited for Robert’s sound of acknowledgement. “Bye.”

He then turned off his own comm unit. Only the Z-Team heard Robert almost toss his headset aside out of frustration. Hellboy glanced back at the rest of the Z-Team. He pointed to Malevola, before gesturing back to where Punch Up ran off.

“You, lady. You and I will go after Tiny and punk-face. The rest of you can go down the other way.”

“And why should we listen to you, demon-bitch?” Flambae argued, stepping up. Hellboy didn’t back down.

“Got a better idea? Huh, Matchstick?”

Flambae glared, grumbling as he took a few steps back. “No. But only this once I will accept orders from you. But after this ‘Sammael’ is gone, you won’t be telling me to do shit.”

Hellboy waved him off, walking off after Punch Up. Malevola got her sword ready, giving Sonar a punch in the shoulder.

“Try not to get into too much trouble. I doubt Sammy wants to learn about crypto.”

“You never know, Malevola!” Sonar chuckled. “Maybe the ape-dog’s a fan of Vanderstenk too.”

Malevola rolled her eyes, but it was more fond than anything. The Z-Team promptly split up, going deeper into the sewers.

Invisigal grumbled to herself as she marched through the corridor, puffing her cigarette like it owed her money. She didn’t know why Hellboy’s comments had gotten to her, they were honestly childish at worst. But now her ego was bruised and she was too stubborn to admit it. For the moment though, she just needed a second to recuperate.

She wandered into an offshoot of the corridor–a storage room of sorts–and continued to puff her cigarette, trying to let the nicotine calm her down. She was pulled out of her thoughts by the sounds of something gargling.

Glancing aside, Invisigal’s eyes widened and she even dropped her cigarette. Sammael was just sitting there in the corner, staring at her as it drooled all over the floor. It rumbled and squealed, investigating her.

She wasn’t sure what she had expected–even Robert’s piss-poor descriptor gave her some idea of what Sammael was–but she found herself almost frozen in horror. It was such an alien beast that she no longer blamed Hellboy for bitching at her about trying to find the nest. She took a shaky step back–Sammael took a knuckle-walk forward. It chortled, tentacle hair writhing as it stared her down.

Invisigal noticed she was shaking, and she tried to immediately put a stop to that. She gulped, keeping her eyes on the beast as it did the same with her. It chortled again, head bobbing as it hunched down in front of her.

“HEY! Droolie!” Punch Up yelled, having just arrived. He threw a fallen brick at Sammael, who hissed in anger as it bounced off of his head. “Leave ‘er alone!”

Sammael snarled at Punch Up, slamming its fist on the ground. Invisigal was still caught off guard by the beast, struggling to back up.

“Damnit, Visi! Move–” Punch Up’s order was cut off by Sammael shooting out its tongue right at him. Immediately making his skin dense as a precaution, Punch Up held up his arm to block the attack–finding instead that the tongue wrapped its three prongs around his arm. He was glad he made his skin nigh-impenitrible, as he felt acid and some kind of stinger trying to poke through. Right before he could be smug though, Sammael recalled its tongue–pulling Punch Up with as if he weighed nothing despite the increased density.

“SHITE–” Punch Up yelped, only to feel his head get grabbed by Sammael.

Invisigal watched in both shock and horror as Sammael lifted Punch Up into the air and began to repeatedly slam him onto the ground. Over and over, like a child upset at its toy. It snarled and shook Punch Up around before throwing him into the wall of the storage room, right through the brick. If not for his picnokinesis, Punch Up would be dead.

With Punch Up currently incapacitated due to a pile of rubble on him, Sammael turned to face Invisigal, being met with nothing there. Snarling, the beast refused to be deceived and ran back into the corridor.

Invisigal, holding her breath to remain invisible, was running down the corridor like a woman possessed. Glancing behind her for just a moment, she saw Sammael galloping towards her, snarling and hissing as it bound over any obstacle as if it were not even an inconvenience.

Now truly panicking, she gave up trying to be invisible so she could breathe while running for her life. She felt her heart racing as she heard Sammael getting closer and closer to her.

Making the mistake of looking back one more time, Invisigal saw the Hound lunge for her. It barreled right into her, knocking her down onto the ground. Invisigal yelled and punched at Sammael’s head as the beast hunched over her, drooling. Right before it chomped down onto her head, it paused, its three eyes looking down at where her augment was hidden beneath her crop top.

Even with the fear in her system, Invisigal was confused why Sammael had paused. It snarled down at her, before opening its maw up again. It looked like the tongue was ready to shoot out and latch onto her head, or worse.

BANG! A loud gunshot hit Sammael square in the jaw, nearly blowing it off of its hinges. Invisigal yelped as her face was covered by green blood. She scrambled upright as Sammael backed away with a howl of pain. BANG! BANG! Two more shots hit Sammael in the chest, making it fall back as more green blood spilled everywhere.

Looking behind her, Invisigal saw Hellboy standing with the Samaritan, tossing aside the butt of his cigar. He gave her a sly grin.

“What would you do without me, eh, punk-face?” he asked, walking forward. He then holstered the Samaritan when he saw Sammael’s jaw snapping back into place. The beast reared up on its hind legs, snarling at both him and Invisigal.

“Hey! Stinky! She’s off the menu. You want me, we both know that,” Hellboy uttered, glaring.

Sammael glared back, eyes narrowing. It snarled as Invisigal shaking stood up behind Hellboy. The Hound roared as it looked ready for pounce.

From behind it, however, Punch Up yelled as he jumped on its back, punching at its head; his face bruised and bloody. Sammael shrieked, thrashing around as Punch Up remained on its back.

Hellboy pushed Invisigal aside to keep her out of the way, before running over. Right as he approached, Sammael bent its arm back at a horrible angle to grab Punch Up. It then stomped forward as its arms snapped back, throwing Punch Up straight at Hellboy. The Smallest Strongman collided with the demon, sending them both back down the corridor the way they came.

Right as they landed in a pile, Malevola ran up from behind them towards Sammael. She yelled out as she swung her blade right for Sammael’s chest. The Hound, still on its hind legs, stepped back as it dodged, squealing. It then unfurled its bone blade, swinging at Malevola. She dodged before reciprocating with a swing of her own blade–Sammael parried it, the bone blade managing to hold itself against her sword. For a few more clashes, the two continued to parry, all while Sammael hissed and drooled over the floor.

Malevola managed to hit the Hound with the pommel of her sword, making it stumble aside. She then went to cleave it, only for its arm to snap back, grabbing onto her forearm. It twisted until she winced and dropped the blade. Sammael then stood up and punched Malevola square in the chest.

Her back hit the wall, but the beast gave her no time to recover. It slashed her across her stomach, her blood now on its claws, before punching her again and again. It then grabbed her by the face and slammed the back of her head against the wall–cracking the brick, her vision now swimming as she spat up blood.

Malevola coughed, looking up as Sammael went to bite on her head–only for its own head to be sent flying off of its neck as her sword sliced it clean off. The head bounced off of the floor, the jaws wide open and the tentacle hair writhing around. After stumbling for a bit, Sammael’s body hit the floor, twitching.

As her vision cleared, Malevola chuckled as she saw Hellboy standing there with her sword in his stone hand.

“I-I would’a had that, you big lump,” she said, wincing.

“Sure you would’ve, lady,” Hellboy replied, glancing at the sword. “Might get myself one of these things.”

He glanced aside to see Invisigal checking up on Punch Up, having yet to wipe her face of Sammael’s blood just yet. The three Z-Team members paused as they saw Sammael’s chest cave in; a glowing green orb floated out, before splitting in half as it faded away.

“The hell is that about?” Punch Up asked, wiping his forehead. “That the whole ‘kill one, two spawn’ thing?”

“Yep,” Hellboy hummed, casual as he handed Malevola her sword back. “Sammy got busy. You alright there, lady?”

Malevola spat out a bit of blood, wincing again as she stood upright. “Eh, I’ve had worse…but that’s a close second. Asshole packs a punch. You alright, Visi?”

Invisigal merely nodded. Her silence told Malevola and Punch Up everything. Hellboy strutted past them, placing a finger on his comm unit.

“Hey, Z-Team–just handled one of the Sams. Malevola’s injured but safe, head back to the culvert.”

Sonar perked up as he heard about Malevola’s injury. Down the corridor he, Coupé, Flambae, and Prism had gone, they had yet to see anything. Flambae had chosen to spend most of the time insulting Robert over the comm lines.

“Malevola? Injured? You’re joking, right?” Sonar snorted over the comms, but he knew Malevola would tell he was actually concerned.

“Easy, babes,” Malevola’s voice came through. “Just a bit rough-housed. And a bit jealous that Red here got the last hit with my sword.”

Sonar chuckled a bit in relief. Robert’s voice came through next.

“Bit concerning to hear that it gave you trouble, but I’m glad you’re safe.”

“Like you actually care, Bob-Bob,” Flambae sneered. “Probably hoped that ‘Sammael’ dipshit killed us all.”

“Yes, because I’d rather lose my job and be riddled by guilt than actually care about you, Flambae.”

Prism–still frowning at being in a sewer–glanced over at Flambae.

“Bestie, normally I’d join in on the teasing, but can we focus on getting out of this nasty ass sewer now?” she asked, huffing. She relaxed when Flambae reluctantly nodded.

“About time,” Coupé hissed. “This was an utter waste of–”

She froze when she looked down the corridor and was met with a figure in a coat. Kroenen stood in front of her, wheezing through his mask. A pair of wristblades were ready from beneath his coat sleeves.

“Who the fuck–”

Coupé had to immediately spring into action when Kroenen moved. In a matter of seconds, she had to parry numerous slashes from his wristblades with her own blades from her wings. She managed to block most of them, only for one to still get her across the cheek.

She hissed and stepped back, shocked. It had been a long time since anyone landed a hit on her, much less a fellow knife user.

Kroenen did not react. He simply stalked forward, cracking his wrists as he prepared to keep fighting. He glanced up when Sonar, Flambae, and Prism caught up.

“Is that a gimp suit?” Sonar sounded more amused than anything.

“Shut the hell up and help me,” Coupé hissed. “This guy’s augmented!”

Flambae prepared fire in his hands, but Prism nudged him aside. “Just let me blind the bitch.”

She held her hand up and flashed a bright light. Kroenen managed to block his eyes with his blades, the light illuminating the rest of the corridor behind him…

. . . revealing a pack of six Sammaels.

“Oh shi–BITCH, RUN!” Prism turned and ran, followed by an overly eager to leave Sonar. Coupé growled as she followed suit, but Flambae was stubborn. 

He shot out a jet of flame down the corridor; Kroenen jumped to the side to dodge it while the six Sammaels flung themselves onto the walls and ceiling to avoid it, snarling. Flambae hissed before turning to join his fellow Z-Team members.

“We should fight!” he called out as he caught up. “I can melt them quick!”

“Not before they get the rest of us, Flambae!” Sonar responded, pulling up ahead. Flambae grumbled, glancing back–taking note of the fact that the Sammaels seemed to ignore Kroenen’s presence.

Prism heard one of the Sammaels catching up to her, so she quickly produced a light clone of herself. She saw out of the corner of her eye how the Sammael behind her tackled the clone, tearing into it like a bear mauling its prey.

She was suddenly very glad to have clones for more than dancing. Coupé spun around to throw a few of her knives at the galloping Sammaels, making them stumble back. She threw one towards Kroenen–who was following–only for him to knock it aside with his wristblade.

“Fuck this!” Flambae yelled. He turned and summoned a wall of fire that separated them from Kroenen and the Sammaels. Looking past the flames, he saw the Sammaels skid to a stop and roar in anger, smashing the ground. From behind them, however, Kroenen merely tilted his head–still dead silent.

Flambae frowned, not even reacting to Sonar’s “WOOO!” of approval. He instead placed his finger on his comm unit.

“Golem, what the fuck? You were supposed to watch the entrance!”

“Uhh…I did. Nothing’s happened,” Golem responded. Flambae for once, went quiet. Kroenen walked back into the darkness, followed by the Sammaels, as the wall of fire kept them separated from the Z-Team members.

“. . . Then we got more at play than ape-dog-frogs,” Flambae muttered into the comm unit, keeping his eye on the flame wall as he and the others retreated. “Y’hear that, Bobbo?”

At the S.D.N office, Robert kept his gaze on the dispatcher terminal. He raised a brow after hearing Flambae, glancing aside at Chase–his fellow dispatcher was standing nearby, holding Beef in his arms.

“Loud and clear, Flambae,” Robert responded. “I’ll report it back to Blonde Blazer and we’ll discuss this when you and Hellboy return. Get back to the office safely.”

He took off his headset, glancing back at Chase once more.

“Flambae’s group ran into some guy down there. Not just Sammael.”

“Well ain’t that fucking sweet,” Chase grumbled. “Mysterious bastards and freaky monsters. Sounds like a whole bunch of fucking fun.”

Both he and Robert were caught off guard by Waterboy running out into the office floor, stammering away. The poor guy was terrified, unable to form a word. Robert stood up, approaching.

“Waterboy? What’s wrong?” he asked. He only noticed Galen out of the corner of his eye pausing and focusing out of confusion, hearing something.

The wall next to Robert suddenly blew out, sending him back against the side of a cubicle. He winced, hearing Waterboy and the others in the office call out in surprise. He sat upright, glancing at the hole in the wall, eyes widening as he found himself face to face…

. . . with Sammael.

Chapter Text

The first thing Robert noticed about Sammael was that the “Hound of Resurrection” was probably the ugliest bastard he had ever seen.

The second thing was that he needed to move. Years of experience as Mecha Man taught Robert to look for any sign of attack, so he was quick to immediately notice Sammael was ready to pounce. 

Diving to the side, Robert barely managed to dodge Sammael lunging for him. The Hound slammed into the cubicle wall, hissing in agitation at its failed attack. It faced Robert with a snarl, drool dripping onto the floor. As Robert tried to stand, Beef growled and jumped out of Chase’s arms, landing in front of his owner.

“Beef!” Robert yelled.

The small dog began to bark and growl at Sammael, hopping up and down. Sammael, for a moment, was confused, before it was replaced with anger. It smashed the floor with its fists, roaring back at Beef. Beef didn’t back down, despite whimpering, trying to bark again.

As much as Robert wanted to be proud of his pet, logic took over. He grabbed Beef, tossing him over to Chase.

“Hold him!” he yelled, backing away as Sammael snarled at him again.

Chase adjusted his hold on Beef–who was still barking and squirming. “Robert! We gotta fucking handle this!”

“I know that, Chase!” Robert responded, not taking his eyes off of Sammael. The other dispatchers had backed off in panic, trying to hit their emergency alarms. Waterboy stood off to the side, shaking.

Royd suddenly appeared, grabbing Sammael from behind in a bear hug. He yelled as he lifted Sammael up into the air, trying to hold the squirming Hound.

“I’ve got him, braddah! Go, Rob! GO!”

Robert ran past him, only to pause when he heard a struggle. Looking back, Robert saw Sammael free itself with ease, turning around to face Royd. With a swipe of its arm, the beast casually sent the large man flying across the office floor. It then roared at Chase, who backed up while holding Beef. Robert glared, picking up a fallen pipe from the wall Sammael broke through.

“HEY! Sam! Over here! You’re after my ass, aren’t you?”

“Robert, what the fuck!?” Chase shouted. “What are you–”

Chase paused in surprise when Sammael actually seemed to respond to Robert. The beast snarled and slowly turned to look back at him, now knuckle-walking once more. Robert swore he saw the Hound’s eyes narrowing. But he did not waver.

“Yeah, I’m talking to you, ugly. You’re here for me, huh? That’s why you went straight for me and no one else. You’re not slick.”

Robert tapped the pipe against his chest, glaring at Sammael. He took a step forward–Sammael did too. With every step taken by Robert, Sammael matched it; a standoff in motion as the two approached one another.

Nearby, Waterboy tried his best to help Royd stand, both of them staring at Robert as if he was a madman.

Once Robert was within striking distance of Sammael, he put his plan into motion. Right as the Hound made a move to grab him, Robert instead smacked it across the head with the pipe. It squealed, head getting knocked to the side. Repeatedly, Robert kept smacking its head, trying to disorient the creature. At one point, he hit it hard enough to make Sammael actually spin away from him.

Robert tried to strike it again, only for Sammael to break its own arm to grab the pipe. It easily wrenched it out of Robert’s hand with a snarl.

As the dispatcher backed away, he saw Sammael’s arm snap back into place, its hand crushing the pipe like it was made of paper. It then faced him with a snarl, its tentacle mane writhing around.

“Bro, what da fuck?!” Royd shouted, shielding Waterboy and a few other employees. Chase moved closer to him, still holding the barking Beef.

“Robert,” Chase began, hesitant; afraid he may have to say “fuck it” and use his powers against his will. “This is–”

“I’ll get it out of here, you stay safe and call for help!” Robert called out, keeping his eyes on Sammael. Before Chase and the others could protest, Robert turned and bolted for the doors.

Right as he got out, running for the stairwell, Sammael slammed its entire body through the glass doors, shattering them as it rolled across the ground. It hissed before galloping after Robert. Its fists and hind-claws dug into the carpet as it chased after him. Robert reached the stairwell door, managing to squeeze through and close it behind him.

He tried to run down the stairs, flinching when he heard Sammael punch through the door. It squealed, shaking the metal off of itself before vaulting over the stairwell railing. It climbed down the rails and sides of the stairs like an ape, trying to catch up to Robert. It shot out its tongue to try and grab him when he reached the ground floor, but he managed to dodge it by pressing against the wall, before rushing out of the door. Sammael growled in rage.

Robert ran into the lobby, yelling at and motioning for the clerks at the front desk to duck and cover. He had to stumble into a sidestep when Sammael punched the door off of its hinges, nearly hitting him.

The beast ran up and swiped at Robert, smacking him across the torso with the back of its arm. Yelling in surprise, Robert was sent out of the large windows and rolled across the pavement. He grimaced, twisting onto his back. A few shards of glass had impaled him, but the adrenaline was making him ignore the pain.

Sammael knuckle-walked out of the hole in the glass, gargling at Robert. With a hiss it then pounced high into the air, aiming to land on Robert, claws and jaws spread wide–

BLAST!

A golden beam stabbed into Sammael’s side, hitting the Hound with enough force to slam it into an S.D.N branded van, toppling it over as the beast shrieked in both pain and surprise.

Glancing up into the sky, Robert relaxed as he saw Blonde Blazer descend to the ground. She rushed over to him, kneeling down as she checked over his body.

“Robert! Fuck! Are you okay?” she asked, cupping his face. Her blue eyes were full of concern, looking over every detail of him to make sure he was fine. With the sun above her, she looked almost angelic.

Robert chuckled, wincing slightly into it. “Never been better, Blazer.”

She chuckled a bit, both out of relief and exasperation at his choice of sarcasm, but it faded when she heard a squeal. Her and Robert both looked over at the toppled S.D.N van.

Sammael crawled out of the wreckage, making its way towards them as it hissed and gargled. The burn marks on its side left by Blazer’s blast healed up nearly instantly. Blazer glared, standing up with Robert, shielding him behind her body.

“Stay behind me,” she growled, gaze focused on the approaching Sammael.

“Way ahead of you,” Robert responded, glaring as well.

Sammael snarled, beginning to circle the two. Blazer followed its path, both with her glare and by twisting herself. She swore it looked like Sammael was flat out studying her, as if trying to plan the best way to attack.

She clenched her fists when Sammael paused in front of the office, still snarling at her. Even now, the Hound was getting drool all over the ground. Blazer could tell the thing was trying to find some kind of opening.

It then moved, jumping side to side to disorient Blazer before shooting its tongue out at her. But she wasn’t fooled–she snatched the fleshy appendage right as it went to grab her head, hearing Sammael hiss in protest. She then used it to pull the beast in, aiming to punch it. Her hit connected on its head, making it squeal and stumble. It then lunged with immense speed, catching even her off guard, its maw opening wide for her face. She managed to grab its jaws and keep them from closing over her face, but the beast then grabbed her arms with its forepaws.

Blazer yelped as she felt the world spin–Sammael had picked her up and slammed her onto the hood of Flambae’s Kia, denting the hell out of it thanks to Blazer’s durability. She wasn’t expecting the beast to be so damn strong; she could feel it almost prying her hands off of its jaws, her eyes widening as she noticed its tongue getting ready to shoot out.

From aside, Robert had ran over to the tipped over van, managing to pull a damaged mirror off of the wreckage. He glanced over to where Sammael had Blazer pinned, noticing the Hound’s eyes rolling back as it drooled over the superheroine.

“HEY! SAMMY!” Robert called out. “Open wide!”

He then lobbed the mirror right at them. It smacked Sammael right in the head, making it hiss and look right at Robert–all that Blazer needed.

She kicked Sammael in the stomach, making it stumble away from her as she stood and reared back a punch, her powers amplifying it. She then slammed her fist right against Sammael’s skull; the Hound’s head exploded in a fit of green blood and eyes, leaving the body headless. It stumbled a bit before collapsing onto the ground.

As Blazer and Robert approached one another, they saw the beast’s chest cave in; a green orb splitting in two, before disappearing. Robert frowned, glaring at the corpse.

“Ugly bastard. At least we didn’t get its blood on the carpet,” he quipped. He blinked when Blazer forced him to look at her, concern on her face.

“You okay? For real?” she asked softly. “You’ve got glass in you.”

“I’ll be fine, I swear. I’ve suffered worse as you-know-what. So, aside from having to deal with the ape-dog-frog here, how did that subscriber call go?”

Blazer perked up, eyes flashing with something as she grinned. “You’re never going to believe what we found, actually!”

Robert raised a brow when Blazer got distracted, following her gaze. Landing nearby them was the S.D.N’s poster boy himself; Phenomaman. The hero glanced down at Sammael’s corpse, before approaching Blazer and Robert.

“I see the creature has been handled. Excellent work, Blonde Blazer,” Phenomaman smiled at the two. “And you too, small man. It looks like you held your own just fine before her arrival.”

“Phenomaman, this is Robert. Robert, this is Phenomaman, my boyfriend,” Blazer explained, moving over to stand next to Phenomaman; he promptly wrapped an arm around her.

Robert wasn’t entirely sure what to feel, but he still managed to give a curt nod. “I’ve seen you in S.D.N ads. Big time superhero. Looks like you do good work.”

“I appreciate the praise, small Robert, but the real heroes are dispatchers like you at S.D.N,” Phenomaman replied, giving Robert a pat on the shoulder. Despite how corporate the praise sounded, Robert felt he was being genuine, in an odd way.

Phenomaman then glanced at Blazer. “Our guests should be arriving any second now, Blonde Blazer.”

“Guests?” Robert asked. Blazer promptly looked excited again, looking over as, as if on cue, a few vans began to pull into the S.D.N parking lot, parking hastily.

Agent Clay got out of one of the vans, fixing his long coat as he rushed over to the Sammael corpse. He grimaced at the sight of the beast, speaking into his comm unit.

“Sam’s down, looks like they got it covered at the office. We can focus on introductions.”

Clay then glanced up, looking at Robert, Blazer, and Phenomaman. He gave the three of them a nod as more people got out of the vans. Agents Moss, Quarry, and Lime joined Clay's side, the four of them beginning to speak in hushed tones about Sammael. Tom Manning stepped out himself, taking a long look at the S.D.N building–Robert couldn’t tell if the man was annoyed or fascinated.

From another came Abe Sapien, already opening up his palm and facing it towards the Sammael corpse as he approached it. Liz Sherman was behind him, briefly locking eyes with Robert as she walked by. What truly caught his attention, however, were the last few newcomers.

Trevor Bruttenholm was assisted out of a van by John Myers. Once Myers confirmed the professor was stable, he stepped aside. Bruttenholm ignored the Sammael corpse, instead approaching Blazer and Phenomaman.

“I’m glad to see Sammael has been dealt with–at least this one,” he said, gripping his cane. “They can be nasty if they get out of sight.”

“The credit all goes to Blonde Blazer and small Robert here,” Phenomaman said, stepping aside. Bruttenholm tilted his head in interest as he glanced at the two.

“May I ask who you are, sir?” Robert asked, confused by the whole ordeal. Even more so when Bruttenholm chuckled.

“Professor Trevor Bruttenholm, but you can just call me ‘Broom.’ I believe…you have my son.”

Robert glanced aside at Blazer, and was met with her grinning widely. Realization finally clicked in his head; this was the B.P.R.D. Hellboy’s gang.

. . .

Ah, hell.

Hellboy had spent the entire journey back to the S.D.N office trying his damnedest not to go on an “I told you so” tangent with the Z-Team. He could tell their egos were bruised somewhat by what they had experienced back in the sewers, and as fun as teasing them over it would be, he didn’t want to sour things even more.

Still, it didn’t stop him from eavesdropping on the conversations happening behind him.

“Sonar, babes, I’m fine,” Malevola grumbled, as the literal bat-man checked up on her for the fifth time. “I’m already healin’ up.”

“Just checking, Mals. Never know if Sammy may have left anything moist behind,” Sonar hummed. He tilted his head when Malevola punched his shoulder.

“God, don’t ever use that word again,” she snorted.

Invisigal, meanwhile, was still uncharacteristically silent. She had since wiped her face clean of Sammael’s blood, but she hadn’t said much of a word since the whole ordeal.

“You alright, Visi?” Punch Up spoke up. “Not like you to not make at least one dick joke.”

“I’m fine,” she replied, gazing low. She frowned when she heard Hellboy chuckle up ahead.

“Still no thanks for saving your life, punk-face?” he hummed. He then let out a brief laugh when she flipped him off instead. Hellboy then noticed that Coupé was grumbling to herself about something. He heard she had encountered somebody in the sewers that actually got a hit off on her, and it didn’t please her one bit.

Golem was just humming a tune as he walked with the team, not at all bothered. Hellboy could appreciate a man that kept to himself.

Flambae and Prism spoke to one another, even briefly posing for a photo that Prism could post later. Hellboy had a hunch they were talking shit about him, given that they kept looking over and laughing at him. 

Let ‘em laugh, he thought. They’ll be sorry when I have to save their asses again.

He promptly tilted his head as they approached the S.D.N office, noticing a flood of parked vans outside, as well as the main entrance’s glass doors and windows being shattered. He and the Z-Team had been unaware of Sammael’s attack, so this was the first they were noticing it.

“Fuck happened here?” asked Punch Up as they approached. As they walked closer, Hellboy found himself pausing as he began to recognize people stationed outside.

Clay and Moss stood by one of the vans, speaking to one another. Lime and Quarry were nearby examining where the Sammael corpse was still laying, checking up on it. Myers was leaning against a van, happening to glance aside when the Z-Team was approaching. He gawked when he spotted Hellboy, at a loss of words for a moment.

“Red!” he finally called out, getting his fellow agents’ attention as he ran over. “Thank God, you’re okay! We were worried sick!”

“Myers?” Hellboy responded, confused. He didn’t notice the Z-Team glancing at him for an answer. “What are you doin’ here, kid?”

“We came looking for you, obviously,” Clay spoke up, walking over. “You up-and-vanish and the whole department gets upset without our mascot.”

Moss snorted a bit to himself. “No kidding. Even Manning was distressed.”

“Now I know you’ve gotta be jokin’,” Hellboy snickered, and the other agents–save for Myers–chuckled with him. Myers instead glanced behind Hellboy, noticing the Z-Team looking right at them all. He gave them all a small wave; internally wincing when none of them waved back, though Golem did nod his head.

“Sup,” Golem said.

Quarry raised a brow as he looked at the Z-Team next. “Who are your friends, Red?”

“Oh, these guys?” Hellboy gestured behind him. “Just a bunch of rejects, kinda like me and Blue.”

“Rejects?!” Prism practically shrieked. “Bitch, I’ll show you a reject! Over there talking with your balding ass head! That ponytail ain’t doing shit for you, demon-bitch!”

Lime grimaced. “I see they’re just as amicable.”

“Fuck you too, boy!” Prism hissed. Myers got in between the Z-Team and the agents, sensing tension already. He held up his arms, trying to keep calm.

“Let’s just…settle down, alright? Clearly we’re all a bit tense, probably because of Sammael and this whole new-world stuff, so, let’s keep it cool, okay?” he pleaded. Hellboy chuckled, nudging Myers as he walked by.

“Boy scout to the end, huh, Myers?” Hellboy quipped, only to freeze when he saw Liz standing by the lobby entrance. Liz stared at him back, relief filling her gaze as she approached; though she did keep some distance.

“Liz?” he whispered, taking a step forward. She offered him a tired smile herself.

“. . . Hey, Red,” she whispered back. “Been a long time.”

Flambae and Malevola both caught the way Hellboy’s tail almost seemed to wag when Liz spoke at him. They shared a glance, and though Flambae wanted to talk shit, Malevola shaking her head convinced him to stay quiet. For now.

He, however, did not stay quiet when Abe revealed himself next to Liz. In fact, Flambae laughed.

“What the fuck is this?” he snorted. “A walking pile of sashimi?”

“I…beg your pardon?” Abe blinked.

“The Fishy can talk, guys,” Flambae snickered again. Abe felt a bit insulted, but for the moment the Ichthyo Sapien kept quiet. Hellboy chuckled to himself, but he straightened up when another figure joined Abe’s side.

The Z-Team were surprised to see that the one man who finally made Hellboy go quiet was a frail professor. Bruttenholm let out a playful hum as he leaned against his cane, glancing between Hellboy and the Z-Team.

“Have you been behaving, my son?” Bruttenholm coyly asked. Hellboy lowered his head like a kicked dog, his tail flicking in agitation.

In the doghouse again, it seems.

Chapter Text

Trevor Bruttenholm found the current sight a bit amusing, if not utterly fascinating as well.

He was standing next to Blonde Blazer and Tom Manning in the boardroom, in front of the Z-Team, Robert–who was still pulling glass out of his chest–Hellboy, Abe, and Liz as they all surrounded the table. Per Bruttenholm’s request, Myers was standing by the door.

The professor could tell the young man felt out of place. Myers wasn’t subtle; shifting in place awkwardly, his gaze constantly swapping across each Z-Team member as if they were rabid beasts ready to pounce on him. While Bruttenholm didn’t entirely blame him for the worry, he did hope that the agent eventually relaxed.

He also hoped that Manning wouldn’t screw this up for them. He could tell his friend didn’t like anything about this new world–about how the superpowered beings were just allowed to exist instead of being contained like how the B.P.R.D would handle them back home. Bruttenholm himself was a little surprised at the acceptance of it too, but he supposed this world did resemble those comic books that Hellboy collected.

He glanced over as Blazer cleared her throat to get everyone’s attention.

“Alright, everyone!” she called out, smiling. “Now’s our chance to make introductions. This is Professor Trevor Bruttenholm and Director Tom Manning. They both run the Bureau for Paranormal Research and Defense, aka the department Hellboy works for. They can help us with Sammael.”

“The Bureau is run by a bunch of ol’ geriatric fucks?” Flambae looked unimpressed. “That explains a lot about demon-bitch over here.”

Hellboy glared, leaning forward. “Oi, Matchstick, that’s my father you’re talkin’ about.”

“Red is correct,” Abe added, frowning. “Professor Broom is an expert in this field, it would be ideal if you could respect that, Mr…what was it?”

“Flambae,” the pyrokinetic grumbled. “An actual superhero that saves the day. Not a cigar-munching demon or whatever-the-hell-you-are, Fishy.”

Abe huffed, muttering something about attitude, while Hellboy and even Liz to some degree glared at Flambae. Bruttenholm sighed to himself, already sensing a long day. Manning, meanwhile, glanced at Blazer–disapproval already in his eyes.

“You call this a team of professionals?” he asked, the sarcasm present but light. 

Blazer, to her credit, looked a bit ashamed of the Z-Team’s behavior. Invisigal smoking a cigarette, Prism chuckling as she recorded the dispute with Flambae, even Sonar trying to sell crypto to Myers; to which the young agent was confused at what crypto even was.

It was all somewhat shameful. Even Coupé was clearly scheming judging by the way she was twirling one of her knives. The only reason Blazer had any hope at the moment was the fact Punch Up, Malevola, and Golem were all chill; she felt she could trust them to keep things light.

“Everybody, please,” Bruttenholm called out, managing to get everyone’s attention. “Now is not the time to bicker, not with Sammael out and about. Is there anything else of note you have seen here?”

“A freak in a gas mask,” Coupé responded instantly, glancing up with a frown. “Bastard was lucky enough to get a hit on me, and no Sammael touched him. Sound familiar?”

“Karl Ruprecht Kroenen,” Bruttenholm spat, venom in his voice. “Formerly Hitler’s top assassin and the head of the Thule Occult society.”

Flambae straightened up, looking like he didn’t believe the professor. “Wait, wait wait wait–we’re dealing with a Nazi-fuck too?”

“Formerly,” Bruttenholm stressed, pacing around the boardroom. “Kroenen was never a true believer of the Third Reich. He simply was sent to acquire resources for the mission.”

“Who sent him and for what mission?” Robert immediately asked, looking up from his attempts at pulling glass shards out of his chest. Bruttenholm smirked, pleased with the dispatcher’s immediate attention.

“Grigori Rasputin. In our world, Rasputin was not just some Russian monk, but a true occultist,” Bruttenholm explained, continuing to pace. “After supposedly dying in 1916, he reappeared in 1944, having influenced the Third Reich to assist his mission in summoning the Seven Gods of Chaos–the Ogdru-Jahad. I was there with a strike force to stop the mission off the coast of Scotland; it was dubbed Project Ragnarok by the Nazis, and thankfully we stopped them for good…or so I thought.”

Bruttenholm walked over to one of the windows of the boardroom, looking outside of it. “Sixty years have passed and Rasputin has reappeared–Kroenen and another one of his allies, Ilsa Haupstein, with him. I thought the nightmare was finished that day, but I was wrong.”

“1944 plus sixty–oh, it’s only 2004 in your world,” Sonar realized. He then snickered. “No wonder Johnny over there doesn’t know what crypto is.”

“Sonar, stay focused,” Malevola chided. Bruttenholm, however, chuckled–especially at Myers’ confused expression at the nickname.

“You are correct, Mr. Sonar. But to get back on topic; Rasputin did succeed in one thing that day. Though he failed to summon the Ogdru-Jahad, he did bless me with a son,” Bruttenholm uttered, staring right at Hellboy.

The demon in question seemingly pouted in embarrassment when everyone’s gazes went to him. He stayed quiet for once, looking away.

“No shite, shaved horns here came out of that debacle?” Punch Up asked, smirking a bit. “He’s an oldie in disguise.”

“I knew you were an unc after all,” Prism snarked.

“Oh, no, he wasn’t born during that,” Bruttenholm explained, smirking coyly. “He was simply brought to Earth. He’s even older.”

“Father,” Hellboy pouted again while the Z-Team cackled. Liz smirked a little bit herself, finding it almost…cute how pouty Hellboy was being.

“Don’t let that timeline fool you,” Manning cut in, pointing at Hellboy. “That right there? That’s a bundle of childishness waiting to snap at any moment.”

Manning promptly then found himself unpleasantly surprised when he heard the Z-Team scoffing about him being a “boomer” and acting as if he was in the wrong. They were just teasing Hellboy but now acted like Manning was out of line.

He hated it.

Hated it enough that he was going to speak up if not for Bruttenholm holding up his hand. The old professor then faced Coupé again.

“You said Kroenen got a lucky hit on you,” he said. “What makes you believe it was luck?”

“Because,” she began, bitterness in her tone. “Nobody lands an attack on me. Not unless they’re augmented. And I firmly believe this asshole was augmented if it wasn’t luck.”

Bruttenholm went silent. He simply returned to his place by Blonde Blazer’s side, trying to think. He believed Coupé about Kroenen being augmented, but he knew immediately that such technology would not be from the B.P.R.D’s world.

“I hope you know who could have assisted Kroenen with augments?” he asked Blazer.

Blazer noticed immediately the way Robert stiffened, trying not to say it out of reflex; the way his jaw clenched in rage. She, however, didn’t notice that even Invisigal had immediately looked at Robert for a reaction.

“The Red Ring,” Blazer confirmed, nodding. “A criminal syndicate run by ‘Shroud,’ a supervillain. They illegally produce augments that essentially give normal people superpowers without requiring magic, or genetic editing.”

Manning stepped in, looking around frantically. “Oh, no no no, there’s no way you’re telling me this is just an occurrence in this place! Now they’re in leagues with Rasputin and your idea is to send these…these freaks after them?”

“BITCH!” Prism shouted, standing up. “Who the fuck you calling a freak?! Balding ass unc!”

“Yeah, dad,” Malevola snorted out. “How about you chill out and take a benadryl or somethin’.”

“Using ‘freaks’ as an insult in the big ‘22? Cringe,” Sonar commented, shaking his head.

“Not cool, man,” Golem said, a frown appearing on his large face. Punch Up snorted at the simplicity, but nodded in agreement.

“I said what I said, and I mean it!” Manning shouted.

“Geez, dude, you need to get laid,” Invisigal quipped, earning a brief laugh from Hellboy.

“What did you just say?” Manning demanded, glaring at her now.

“Guess he’s deaf now too,” Flambae snickered. “What’s next, he’s–”

Abe stood up to comment. “Come now, this is unnecessary. We can talk without resorting to petty insults.”

Coupé glared a bit, pointing a blade at him. “Like your group is one to talk. All that demon over there does is snark us.”

“Red doesn’t represent the entire department,” Liz muttered, meeting Coupé’s glare with one of her own. Myers paused for a moment when he swore he saw flames in Liz’s eyes, but she thankfully wasn’t relapsing. 

Hellboy was about to speak, to no doubt instigate, when Bruttenholm roughly tapped his cane on the ground.

“Enough,” he bellowed, making the room go silent. “Everyone is acting childish. This will not do. We are all on the same side here, please remember that.”

Bruttenholm sighed, taking off his glasses to clean them. Once he put them back on, he addressed the room once more.

“I understand the difference in thoughts, in ideas and perhaps even culture between us all. But when I look upon this team, just know that I do not see freaks. That I do not see monsters. I see potential, in the same way I saw it in my son. Miss Blazer informed me of her program’s initiative; and I support it. You are not defined solely by your past, but also by how you shape your future. Do not squander your second chance.”

The Z-Team was, for once, silent. None of them were used to the encouragement from others. Genuine encouragement at that. Invisigal especially took a long pause.

Blazer’s eyes met Robert’s, and she was smiling quite a bit from Bruttenholm’s interjection. The old professor glanced at Flambae in particular.

“Mr. Flambae. You are a pyrokinetic, yes?” he asked.

Flambae was caught off guard by Bruttenholm’s calmer voice. “...Duh? I mean look at the suit, old man.”

Before Hellboy could growl at how Flambae spoke to his father, Bruttenholm chuckled.

“Forgive me, young man,” he said. “My eyes are not as they used to be. I must say it looks like you put quite a bit of effort into the uniform.”

“. . . Thank you,” Flambae replied, surprised.

“You are welcome. Although I must ask; is it alright if you dedicate some time teaching Ms. Sherman here how to control her powers? She is a pyrokinetic too, but she is struggling with how the flames flow in her veins,” Bruttenholm explained, gesturing to Liz.

Flambae locked eyes with Liz, his brow raised. At first, he wanted to reject the offer, to claim that it was beneath him to be a teacher–but as he looked at Liz, he found himself faltering. She looked a bit like his niece, he realized. Kind of reminded him of her too. That, and he understood the concept of being burdened with power. So, against his judgement, he gave in.

“Very well,” he said, masking his conflict with a smirk. “Just don’t expect me to be slow with you, girlie.”

Hellboy suddenly found that he really wanted to punch Flambae in the face.

“See?” Bruttenholm hummed, beginning to smile. “Peace is possible between us all. Now, obviously, things are intense; we all need rest. Tomorrow, Agents Myers, Clay, Quarry, and Moss will assist you all with anything involving Sammael. Agent Lime, Director Manning, and I will assist in finding out where Rasputin and this ‘Shroud’ may be operating.”

He glanced around, noticing no one had any vocal objections to the ideas.

“Very well,” he concluded. “I am done here. Is there anything else, Miss Blazer?”

“No professor,” she responded, facing the Z-Team. “You’re all dismissed.”

Blazer watched as everyone began to filter out of the boardroom. She saw Manning bickering with Bruttenholm in hushed tones as the two left first, followed by the Z-Team–Malevola having to once more drag Sonar out by a bat ear when he tried to sell crypto to Myers. She paused for a moment when Myers approached right after.

“I, uh, look forward to working together, ma’am,” he rambled a bit, offering a handshake. Blazer smiled and reciprocated it.

“Likewise, Agent Myers. Get some rest,” she said, watching him leave. 

She and Abe shared a courteous nod, and Blazer didn’t miss the way Hellboy chased after Liz like a puppy demanding attention. She smiled at the sight, actually. Soon enough, she found herself alone with Robert in the boardroom.

Robert placed all of the glass shards he had pulled out of himself on the table. She winced at the number.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Robert?” she asked, walking over to him.

“I’m fine, Blazer,” he replied, meeting her gaze. “I’m more worried about our otherworldly coworkers than the glass.”

“I know, I know. But their expertise is necessary. Sammael, this ‘Kroenen’ guy–Rasputin? If he’s working with Shroud, we must work together.”

“Fair,” Robert grumbled. “But this only means we absolutely must get the Mecha Man suit working as soon as possible.”

Blazer then gave him a nervous smile. “I, uh…was actually thinking maybe we should tell them about that whole situation? At least Professor Broom?”

Robert frowned. “And you think this is a good idea? So soon? I’m not exactly comfortable with the snarky demon knowing my secret identity.”

“Not Hellboy!” Blazer clarified, chuckling bit. “Just Professor Broom and maybe Director Manning? As proof they can trust us? They may also have a solution to the Astral Pulse problem.”

Robert gave it some thought, rubbing his chin. He then gave in, sighing.

“Fine. We can tell those two, but only those two for now, please.”

“Of course–your secret identity, your call,” Blazer uttered, playfully nudging his shoulder. She then took a deep breath and stepped back. “My day’s not over yet–Phenomaman and I have a date in Tokyo. Superflight sure is convenient, huh?”

“I wouldn’t know, I’m a ‘small man,’” Robert quipped, walking by her. He smirked when Blazer chuckled at him.

He found himself enjoying their little moments together.

Invisigal puffed a cigarette, the smoke fading into the night sky as she approached the Llewelyn Steel Works. She knew her appearance would be met with questioning–she wasn’t exactly doing the job assigned to her by Shroud. 

Call her crazy, but this whole “Phoenix Program” stuff was slowly rubbing off on her. 

She was pulled out of her thoughts when she heard a snicker. Up ahead by the doors was Toxic, currently in his normal form, smirking at her. Invisigal huffed as she tossed out her cigarette.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Invisibitch,” he called out. “I thought you ‘disappeared’ for good after that botched Mecha Man attack.”

“Fuck you, Toxic,” she growled. “I’m busy doing what Shroud said–spy on the S.D.N from the inside.”

“And yet, you’re still missing meetings all the time,” he crooned. “You’re either really bad at being on time, or, well, a dirty little fucking liar, Invisibitch. Shroud’ll know which.”

She glared at him while he chuckled. Armstrong soon appeared as well, his large mechanical arms flexing.

“Can we just get on with it, I’m missing the game at The Sardine for this bullshit!” he ranted.

“Shut the fuck up, little arms,” Invisigal sneered. “Shroud’s orders, you know that. Just get going.”

She shoved past Toxic to head inside the facility. Toxic rolled his eyes, walking in alongside Armstrong. The trio saw their fellow Red Ring members working on creating augments, but what caught their eye was that Shroud stood at his table not alone, but with two others.

One of them was a blonde woman; Ilsa. Shroud was speaking to her, but she looked over his shoulder and spotted the trio.

“And what’s this?” she said coyly. “A group of misfits eavesdropping on their master?”

Before Invisigal could snark about the comment, Shroud faced them, hands in his coat’s pockets. He analyzed all three of them, moving aside; allowing them to see that the other person, one in a leather long coat, was working on some kind of gas mask–

Invisigal’s breath hitched. It surely was a coincidence, no? Yes, the meeting earlier had theorized that Kroenen was given augments, but she thought at worst, Shroud just sold them to the former Nazi.

“I am glad you all could make it. For once,” Shroud grumbled, his mask whirring as he continued to gaze at the trio.

“No shit we’d come, you were practically demanding it,” Toxic huffed, walking forward. “Though I do wish you actually said what this is about, because–”

He jolted when the Kroenen finally lifted his head; revealing a face covered by a mask, save for his eyes, which lacked eyelids entirely. They were always open and bloodshot.

“What the fuck?!” Toxic yelled out, stumbling backwards. Armstrong winced and even Invisigal gagged a bit. Kroenen let out a raspy chuckle, before continuing to work on his gas mask. Shroud shook his head.

“Do not act like that to our guest,” he chided, arms folded. “Both of them are important to our new cause regarding the Astral Pulse.”

“I would not blame them, Mr. Connors,” Ilsa hummed, approaching. “This is their first meeting, after all.”

“And who the fuck are even you, lady?” Armstrong hissed, a mechanical finger pointing at Ilsa. She seemed unphased, not even impressed.

“Ilsa Haupstein, mutt,” she grumbled. “This is Kroenen. Both of us are now your superiors, so I would drop the tone.”

Armstrong kept quiet when Shroud nodded; Invisigal, meanwhile, was a bit busy trying not to show her shock at the confirmation that the freakshow working on the mask was Kroenen. Her mind was already spinning, because if Kroenen was here…

“Ms. Haupstein is correct, Mr. Armstrong,” a voice echoed from the shadows. “You would be wise to recognize your new masters.”

Invisigal, Toxic, and Armstrong looked over as Rasputin stepped out, his hands behind his back. He no longer wore sunglasses, showing his eyes; though Invisigal swore they look like they were made out of glass. Rasputin’s gaze locked onto her in particular, making her step back.

He grinned.

“Ah, Ms. Courtney,” he began, shocking her with the name drop. “Mr. Connors told me about you. How you were a ‘mole’ in the S.D.N’s Phoenix Program–you have undoubtedly met the beast by now then.”

“The beast?” Invisigal muttered, before it clicked in her head what he meant. It then clicked; Hellboy.

“Do not act coy,” Rasputin said. “The child of the apocalypse. The demon from another world.”

“I…I have,” she confirmed, stepping back–Rasputin stepped forward.

“Good. You know to be honest. Your act is almost perfect. It fooled even Sammael at first, until he sensed Mr. Connors’ augment on your body.”

Toxic raised a brow. “Who the fuck is Sammael?”

A pile of drool hit the floor next to Rasputin from the ceiling. Invisigal glanced up alongside Toxic and Armstrong, and she froze.

Sammael hung from the rafters using its bone club and hind legs to hang on, staring down at them with its three eyes. Its tongue dashed out to lick the teeth of its jaws as it squealed. Armstrong shouted as he fell against some machinery, while Toxic for once went silent as he stepped back.

Dislodging its bone club from the rafters, Sammael then fell to the ground, landing in its usual crouched position. It squalled as it looked up at Invisigal, tentacles writhing on its head. She just stared back, breath hitching slightly.

“Oh yes,” Rasputin murmured, stepping closer. “Sammael remembers you, even in another body. It’s a very useful trait of his–keep it as a reminder that your new masters are always watching.”

Invisigal’s gaze darted around, spotting more Sammaels appearing from the shadows, all perched on pieces of machinery like dogs. She counted at least four in the facility alone. She then gave Rasputin a hard look.

“Respectfully,” she huffed. “Nobody is my ‘master,’ just my boss at best.”

“Courtney,” Shroud began, but he was silenced by Ilsa raising her hand.

Rasputin approached Invisigal, now in front of her.

“Do not fret, Mr. Connors,” he said, right as he snatched Invisigal by the chin; easily able to hold her despite her thrashing. “She will learn that even her masters have their masters.”

Invisigal paused as she saw…something writhe beneath the skin of Rasputin’s forehead before disappearing. She saw him smirk briefly before he forced her head to look aside.

“And she will learn what new developments awaits the loyal,” he hummed, his voice making Toxic and Armstrong glance as well to where Invisigal was being forced to look at.

A few Red Ring members working on augments stepped aside, revealing another Sammael was hooked up and being actively worked on. Its augmentation was not finished, and may not be for some time, but they were making progress regardless. The hooked up Sammael chortled, glancing up at them all.

. . . 

Invisigal really needed a new job.

Chapter Text

Longing.

Heat.

Pleasure.

Invisigal felt it all in this dreamscape. She relaxed against her own bed, her hands above her head as she just gave in to the sensations. She felt a hand on her cheek, a thumb brushing against her lips, making her open her eyes.

She was met with Robert’s face. Her dreamscape betrayed just how into it she really was. A revelation she wasn’t exactly entirely confident in, and yet every part of her mind begged for more. More, more, more. She wanted more.

Her head leaned up as his leaned down…but the kiss never came. The dreamscape shifted, and no longer did it feel intimate.

Robert was gone, and she was no longer on her bed, but in a void. She couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe–her inhaler nowhere near in sight even if she could move. She was struggling, at best only able to squirm as she heard voices whispering in her ears, yet couldn’t decipher what they were saying. They didn’t even sound human to her.

From the void, Sammael’s paw shot out, grabbing onto Invisigal’s augment on her torso. She gasped in shock, finding it even harder to breathe somehow. She was unable to scream as the augment was ripped off of her, as Sammael’s maw opened wide and went straight for her face to–

With a loud gasp, Invisigal sat upright on her bed, knocking the comforter off of herself. She struggled to catch her breath, reaching over for her inhaler on the nightstand. As she collected herself, she looked around the room, seeing sunlight filtering through her window’s blinds.

Once she relaxed, she collapsed back against the bed, just staring up at her ceiling. Part of her wanted to laugh at the fact that her wet dream was about goody two shoes Robert of all people…only to find herself kinda digging it. Of course such a fun dream had to be ruined by Sammael attacking her.

. . .

Great. She really needed a new job and needed to get laid.

Chase considered himself a damn good worker for willingly coming in early so much. Granted, he mainly did it because he wanted any excuse to distract himself from the current issue with his powers, but still; better to work than to just mope around as an old man every day. At least at the S.D.N he could still help people.

Normally he was used to being either the first one at work or one of the first ones. So when he arrived and found Bruttenholm looking at one of the bulletins, he couldn’t help but feel a little surprised.

“What the fuck are you doing here so early?” he chuckled, walking by the professor to start setting up his dispatch terminal.

“Trust me, Mr. Chase,” Bruttenholm began. “When you work with an organization like the B.P.R.D, early work days are a given.”

“True that. I imagine working with creepy motherfuckers all day requires being up nearly 24/7.”

“You make it sound scarier than it is,” Bruttenholm chuckled, facing Chase. “Most of our work isn’t full of horrors. Sammael and Rasputin are the first cases in a long time to require such effort, in fact.”

Chase raised a brow, sitting down in his cubicle’s chair. “Yeah? Shit’s that easy for you guys? Experience or just the paranormal being a bunch of pussies back in your world?”

“I like to think it’s experience. It’d be insulting otherwise,” Bruttenholm coyly said. He then approached Chase’s cubicle, examining the dispatcher terminal. “Do you manage the Z-Team as well? Or is that solely Mr. Robertson’s job?”

Chase scoffed, shaking his head. “Robert’s, and trust me, I feel bad for the poor bastard. He has to deal with motherfuckers just bitching at him all the time and shit. Personally, I’d’ve cut them all by now; fuck ‘em, let ‘em rot in jail.”

“Do you not believe in redemption?” Bruttenholm inquired, head tilting. “At least for them?”

“If they actually end up as good people and not back in a cell, I’ll run around the office naked and start chanting ‘kumbaya.’”

Bruttenholm shook his head, smirking. “There is no need for that. I simply believe their issue is they are not used to positive reinforcement.”

“Doesn’t mean they should get a slap on the wrist when they do something heinous,” Chase grumbled.

“True,” Bruttenholm conceded. “But it also means we should not reward their genuine efforts with snark and more insults.”

Chase went quiet. He had to admit, the professor had a point. Even Chase was guilty of not really acknowledging when the Z-Team did well, only ever giving them shit for the things that went wrong. The idea of complimenting them though left a bad taste in his mouth.

Both men glanced aside when they heard somebody vomiting. Waterboy had done so on the windows, now wiping them clean. When he spotted the two looking at him, he shrunk in on himself with a nervous smile.

“O-Oh! I-I’m, uh, I’m sorry!” he stammered. “I-I didn’t…didn’t mean to interrupt!”

“Chill, Waterboy, we won’t snap,” Chase said, waving him off. Bruttenholm, however, approached.

“Forgive me, young man, I did not realize you were there,” he said, offering a handshake. “I would’ve said hello otherwise.”

Waterboy, shocked at being acknowledged, timidly shook Bruttenholm’s hand. “I-It’s, uh, uh, no problem, Mr. Brutten–Bruttenhall–...sir.”

“Just Professor Broom is fine,” Bruttenholm chuckled, noticing his hand was wet now. “Interesting. You expel water from everywhere, it seems.”

“Oh, uh–yes! Yes, it’s–it’s called ‘water expulsion,’ at least that’s–that’s what Miss Blaze says the S.D.N has it listed as,” Waterboy confirmed, rubbing his arm. He struggled to even meet Bruttenholm’s gaze, despite the professor lacking any judgement towards him.

Instead, the older man tapped his chin in thought. “Perhaps we should look into having you assist us. Your water powers combined with Abe’s aquatic prowess may be a big help against Sammael, young man.”

“You…You think I can help?” Waterboy whispered, before laughing it off. “N-No, no! I, uh, I froze when Sammy-el attacked the office! I-I can’t–I can’t help with him!”

Waterboy then paused when Bruttenholm placed a hand on his shoulder. The professor gave him a curt, but genuine, nod.

“Nonsense. None of us at the B.P.R.D fault you for such a reaction to a creature like Sammael. Courage is not the absence of fear, but the willingness to act despite it.” 

With that, Waterboy went silent. After a moment, he simply gave Bruttenholm a small nod in response. Bruttenholm then smiled and walked away, leaving Waterboy to his thoughts. The janitor glanced down at his own hands.

And clenched them.

Manning frowned as he looked over the new box of evidence–photos, reports, etc–brought in by Abe. The Ichthyo Sapien grunted as he lifted it up and placed it on the table.

He, Manning, and Agent Lime were huddled together in one of the conference rooms within the S.D.N office. Blonde Blazer had allowed them to use the room as an evidence locker for the time being–where they’d also look over it.

Picking up one of the pictures of the stone runes found in the abandoned subway, now stationed somewhere in the B.P.R.D, Manning raised his brow. He traced a finger over one of the runes, unsure of what it was.

“Mind explaining this one?” he asked, glancing at Abe. “I thought we were focusing on Rasputin.”

“We are,” Abe confirmed, holding up a finger. “But the professor has also authorized that we look into what these portal runes even are in the first place. And why they are connected to this world.”

Lime wiped his forehead as he began to pull out more photos and a few reports. “Said we can multitask while the others focus on making sure Sammael isn’t tearing the city apart.”

“Yeah, well I’d rather we pivot to making sure Hellboy and the Freak Squad don’t do that themselves,” Manning grumbled. He then jolted and clutched his chest when Invisigal just appeared next to them all, sitting on the edge of the table. She frowned, arms folding over her chest as she looked at Manning–Lime and Abe were surprised themselves, but not startled.

“Fuck you too, dick,” Invisigal huffed. “We’re not a ‘freak squad.’”

Manning sputtered, still reeling from her sudden appearance. “Wha–this is a private B.P.R.D meeting, what the hell are you doing here?! And why are you spying–”

“Do you always sound like you have a dick up your ass?” Invisigal asked, lighting a cigarette. Lime stared at her in disgust while Abe paused entirely.

“. . . I beg your pardon?” he asked, head tilting. Invisigal ignored him as she hopped down to the floor, puffing the cigarette. She then glanced up and down at Manning, frowning again.

“Y’know, it’s rude to ignore questions,” she said. Manning, red-faced, grumbled to himself about “H.R” as he stormed out of the conference room. Lime and Abe shared a look, before Lime shook his head and went back to examining the photos.

“Ms. Invisigal,” Abe began, trying to keep the scorn out of his voice as he looked through a report. “It is exceptionally unprofessional to behave like this in the workforce.”

“Ugh, god, you sound even older than Chase somehow,” Invisigal groaned, trying to sneak a peak at the report. Abe clutched it closer to his chest, his apparatus bubbling wildly as he glared at her. His patience was starting to run thin but he was trying his best not to snap on the first day.

He failed. Somewhat.

“Listen, Loudmouth,” he began. “These are serious times with dangerous foes at play, we cannot waste time–”

“Okay, okay, Wet-Boy,” Invisigal said, rolling her eyes. “I get it. I’ll ‘behave’ if that gets your panties untwisted.”

Abe’s eyes twitched but he stayed quiet. Lime was just enjoying the show; it wasn’t every day that Abe actually got frustrated at anything, let alone a person he had to work with. For a few seconds, a peaceful silence had returned to the conference room as Abe and Lime continued to look through the box of evidence. Invisigal leaned against a wall, puffing her cigarette as she just watched them.

“Hypothetical question,” she started, noticing Abe immediately rolling his eyes. “Let’s say this…Sam-thing got augmented himself. Think it’d be a problem for you guys?”

Abe paused, caught off guard by the genuine question. He then hummed. “Well, it would certainly be terrifying, that is for sure. But with the S.D.N’s help I am sure we would come up with a solution.”

Satisfied, Invisigal nodded. She then pulled out her inhaler to use it, her other hand still holding the cigarette. Lime just stared at her.

“Doesn’t…doesn’t that–why are you smoking if you have asthma?” he asked, dumbfounded. Invisigal glared and flipped him off.

“Mind your business, asshole. It’s my life,” she grumbled. Lime raised his hands in surrender, going back to looking at reports. Abe then hummed, leaning in to whisper to Lime–purposefully keeping his voice loud enough for Invisigal to hear.

“Don’t feel bad, Lime, the uncivilized seldom like being called out on their flaws.”

Invisigal glared, and vanished. Abe and Lime then saw the door to the conference room open up. Abe shook his head, about to say something to Lime–

SMACK!

Abe’s head then recoiled and he stumbled, as if punched, catching himself against the table. His other hand reached out on instinct, brushing against something invisible before he and Lime heard someone storming out. Lime shot up, checking in on Abe.

“You good, Blue?” he asked. “That’s gotta be a violation of some kind!”

“This whole place is a violation, Lime,” Abe huffed, rubbing his face. He then paused. His brief brush against Invisigal had given him only a glimpse into her past–not enough to see, but to feel. Conflict. Regret. Fear. His gaze narrowed while Lime went back to work.

Something was up with that girl. He’d get to the bottom of it eventually.

Hellboy arrived at the S.D.N office with the timeliness of a corpse, not caring that he was “late.” Granted, he was super excited to see Liz–the one good thing about this whole “new world” debacle was that she was back. He couldn’t stop his tail from wagging.

. . . 

However, it did end up stopping when he arrived on the office floor, and saw Liz speaking to Robert. Instantly all happy thoughts vanished and were replaced with deep, deep jealousy. If he had a beer in his hand, he’d’ve crushed it by now.

Liz, meanwhile, was leaning against Robert’s cubicle as they spoke.

“I mean it; I feel bad you have Flambae as your new teacher,” Robert said, adjusting his terminal. “He’s a piece of work, to put it lightly.”

“But he’s the only pyrokinetic here,” she rebutted. “Piece of work or not, he’ll be a big help with controlling my…issues.”

Robert glanced at her, looking concerned. “How bad of a problem is it? If you don’t mind sharing.”

Liz’s silence told him everything. Robert merely nodded and didn’t push further. He glanced up when Myers showed up with coffee–struggling to hold three cups.

“I, uh, got us all coffee?” he offered, looking between them. Liz had a tiny smile as she took hers, while Robert gave another nod to Myers this time.

Dumbass, Hellboy thought, frowning. She likes her coffee black.

Liz sipped the coffee, and winced slightly. “Mmm…a bit sweet for me.”

Told ya, Hellboy smirked.

The smirk vanished when Liz insisted on keeping the coffee regardless when Myers offered to take it away. Robert sipped from his cup and basked in the caffeine filling his system. He leaned back in his cubicle’s chair, glancing between Myers and Liz.

“So, where are you guys stationed again?” he asked.

“Newark. Newark, New Jersey,” Myers answered, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s, uh, kinda funny that we’ve ended up on the complete opposite side of the nation.”

“I see. What time of year is it over there?” 

“Just had Halloween a day or two ago. It’s pretty cold up there in the fall, actually,” Myers muttered, glancing around. “A lot colder than here, that’s for sure.”

“I had a hunch–unless your gang is a bunch of masochists that like dressing up when it’s scorching hot,” Robert responded, taking a sip of his coffee. He then glanced at Liz again, noticing how she was silent. Almost lost in thoughts.

“You alright, Liz?” he asked, voice soft. “You look a little lost there.”

Liz took a moment to reply, glancing between both him and Myers. She then nodded. “I’m fine, Robert. I should get to training with Flambae.”

She turned to leave, walking away with her coffee. Hellboy perked up, taking the moment to practically scurry over to her. His tail was back to wagging, excited to talk to her…until Liz gently put a palm up against his chest, offering him an apologetic smile.

“Sorry, Red, it’s training time. Can’t talk,” she said, before leaving the office floor. Hellboy stood in place, the tail-wagging being replaced by agitated flicks. He then frowned, looking over where Myers and Robert were still talking. He promptly marched over.

Rearing in his jealousy for now, Hellboy gestured at the two with his stone head. “Gettin’ cozy in the office, are we?”

“You wouldn’t know, Red,” Robert replied, not even looking at him. “You always have a stick up your ass.”

Myers choked on his coffee while Hellboy just grumbled, his tail flicking again.

“Smartass” was his only reply to the comment. Hellboy glanced aside when he heard a dog barking. Bruttenholm was sitting nearby, holding Beef in his lap; petting the small dog as he overlooked the office.

“I see you’re making friends, my son,” he coyly said, head tilting. “I hear they let out early on good behavior.”

“Then he’ll be stuck here forever,” Robert quipped, smirking when Hellboy glared at him. The demon then pouted when he heard Bruttenholm chuckling.

“It wasn’t that funny, Father.”

“I think it was a little amusing, son. It’s not every day someone matches your snark with their own.”

“They’re just snide remarks, nothing of actual material.”

“Then what does that make your ‘material,’ my son?”

Hellboy pouted again, huffing. Myers looked ready to speak, but a look from Hellboy silenced him. The young agent shuffled awkwardly in place, before gesturing to a boardroom.

“I’ll, uh, I’ll see what Agent Clay is up to,” he claimed, walking away.

Hellboy shook his head. When he looked back over, he was met with Bruttenholm holding Beef up. The dog barked at Hellboy before his tongue lolled out, legs squirming in the air.

“Stop being a sourpuss. Pet the dog,” Bruttenholm urged.

“I ain’t pettin’ that thing.”

“Why not? He’s very fluffy.”

“You know I like cats, Father.”

“And? You liking pancakes doesn’t mean you hate waffles, my son. Pet the dog.”

“I’ll pet the mutt when Hell freezes over.”

“Are you certain you want to make such a bet considering our line of work?” Bruttenholm smirked. Hellboy groaned, head tilting up to look at the ceiling. Nearby, Blonde Blazer left her office, looking around for Robert and Bruttenholm as she walked. Once she spotted them, she called out.

“Robert! Professor Broom! Can you please join me? We need to discuss something.”

She then motioned for them to follow, giving a nod to Robert; he nodded back. Bruttenholm stood up with a groan, setting Beef down. He then glanced at both Hellboy and Robert.

“Duty calls. Come along, Robert,” he said, following after Blazer. Robert quietly followed after him. Hellboy watched them leave with a raised brow.

When Beef tried to nuzzle his leg, he then jumped back.

Next to one of the TVs, Myers sipped his coffee as he spoke to Clay. The older agent brushed back the implants in his hair, making sure they looked natural, before glancing at Myers.

“First few days on the job and you’re out here discovering other worlds, kid,” he hummed. “Must be crazy for a guy like you. Fresh out of Quantico.”

“Yeah, they didn’t exactly teach us about demons and parallel worlds at the academy,” Myers tried to quip, glancing around. He raised a brow when he looked up at the TV, seeing Phenomaman on the screen; holding up traffic as he walked, seemingly sad.

“Is…is that the Phenoma-guy?” he asked, looking at Clay. Clay, in turn, glanced at the TV himself.

“How about that,” he replied. “It is. Wonder what’s that about. You got any assignments by the way? I’m being assigned to join ‘Prism’ and ‘Sonar’ on their patrols today.”

Myers blinked, sipping from his cup of coffee, his other hand in his jacket pocket. “I’m joining Moss and Quarry on a mission to those sewers. I think that ‘Punch Up’ guy and Coo–Coopeh–the wacko will be with us.”

“A wacko,” Coupé said from behind him, arms folded. Myers jolted while Clay kept his snicker hidden away.

“I, uh…Uhm…” Myers stammered. Coupé simply brushed by him, her glare lethal.

“Sleep with one eye open, boy,” she hissed, stalking away. Myers gulped, but was knocked out of his worries by Punch Up chuckling as he passed by, nudging his leg.

“Don’t fret, lad,” he said, grinning. “Coupé’s all bark…sometimes.”

He laughed again as Myers paled slightly.

Manning kept his skepticism high as Blazer and Robert led him and Bruttenholm down into the basement of the S.D.N office. The superheroine and dispatcher had not told either man anything about what they wanted to show them. Manning had found it immediately suspect, but Bruttenholm was willing to hear them out.

They soon entered a lab-like area, greeted by Royd setting up a terminal of sorts. The large man looked over, initially surprised at Manning and Bruttenholm being present, before calming down when he saw Blazer and Robert with them–understanding immediately the situation was okay.

“Wassup, braddah?” he asked Manning with a grin. The grin faltered as Manning glared and pointed at him.

“I’m not your ‘braddah.’ It’s ‘Director Manning’ to you,” he said sternly, only to blink in surprise when Bruttenholm scoffed at him.

“Tom, please, there is no need to be so hostile,” he chided. Bruttenholm then offered a handshake to Royd. “Professor Trevor Bruttenholm, but you can call me Professor Broom, young man.”

“Fo sho, fo sho, sir,” Royd replied, shaking his hand with a softer grin. He then stepped aside and remained quiet to let Blazer take the lead. Blazer promptly guided Manning and Bruttenholm’s gazes aside beyond the lab’s safety window.

The Mecha Man suit sat hooked up so that it was upright, multiple panels open; clearly being worked on. Bruttenholm found the suit fascinating, looking at it with a degree of awe. It was, without a doubt, very impressive technology. Potentially even very useful against some of the Bureau’s more large threats.

Manning, meanwhile, gawked. Not from awe, but a degree of bureaucratic-inspired-horror. To him, his mind rattled with liabilities, cover-up stories, and other matters that would make his already stressful job even more stressful instead of less. He glanced at Blazer and Robert, pointing back at the Mecha Man suit.

“What the hell is that?!” he cried out, frowning. “Is that even registered? It looks like a damn W.M.D if it has enough weaponry on it!”

Royd blinked in shock at Manning’s outburst; Blazer, meanwhile, held her hands out, shaking her head like a blur. “No, no, no! That’s the ‘Mecha Man’ suit!”

“What the hell is even that then?”

“It’s me,” Robert spoke up, getting the attention of Bruttenholm and Manning. “I’m not just a dispatcher named ‘Robert,’ I’m the superhero ‘Mecha Man.’ Ever since my suit was severely damaged by Shroud, it’s been down here being fixed while I work as a dispatcher.”

Bruttenholm caught on immediately. “You’re keeping your identity a secret then. Even from the Z-Team.”

“That’s correct, professor,” Robert confirmed. “Even from Hellboy and your agents. I’d like to keep it that way for now.”

Manning frowned again, his hands on his hips. “So why tell us?”

“A gesture of good will,” Blazer jutted in, stepping forward. “To show you can trust us with this Sammael and Rasputin issue. We just…hope you give that same trust back.”

Manning and Bruttenholm shared a glance. Though they were silent, their expressions said it all. The professor was still calm, while the director was frowning and shaking his head. Despite the disapproval, Bruttenholm stepped forward.

“I am honored you felt the need to share it,” he said. “Though Tom here will most likely need more…time to accept your presence, I am willing to move forth. I suppose I will share a secret of my own. Specifically for you, Robert.”

Robert raised a brow but did not interrupt. He gestured for Bruttenholm to continue speaking.

Bruttenholm took a bit of a pause, getting his thoughts together. 

“. . . I am dying, Robert. I am very ill. I do not want Hellboy to know, not yet at least. I understand why it may be hard to work with my son, but please try. He and your Z-Team have the potential to be perhaps the deciding factor in the fates of our world.”

Robert’s eyes widened, and he heard both Blazer and Royd gasp at the revelation. Manning, to his credit, looked solemn. Robert was silent for a long moment before he gave Bruttenholm a curt nod.

“I’ll try my best,” he replied. “Hellboy’s a bit…much, but I can tell a part of him–deep down–actually cares. I have you to thank for that.”

Bruttenholm smiled. “Thank you, young man. Now, is there any way we could help with this ‘Mecha Man’ suit?”

Royd perked up, stepping forward with a small grin. “Oh, choke ways maybe! Da main issue is with da Astral Pulse. No answer for dat yet.”

When Manning and Bruttenholm both glanced at Robert, he nodded and began to explain.

“The Astral Pulse is the suit’s power source. It contains a Stellar Core that uses fusion to produce superpowered plasma that powers the rest of the suit.”

“And that kind of technology just exists here?” Manning asked, exasperated.

“Not really. It's one-of-a-kind. The only piece of the suit I had no schematics for,” Robert explained, shaking his head. “That’s the main issue we’ve had so far; recreating the Astral Pulse.”

Bruttenholm rubbed his chin. “I am not entirely sure if the B.P.R.D can assist with such technology. But we will try our best, Robert. You have my word.”

Robert gave a grateful nod. Blazer then cleared her throat to get attention, offering a kind smile to everyone present.

“Good,” she began. “We’re making progress! With this and working together against Rasputin, I think we’ll actually do very well!”

“Speak for yourself,” Manning interjected, heading out to leave the lab. “All I see is the potential of a lot of legal liabilities.”

Blazer’s smile flickered, but did not fully waver. “I understand, Director Manning, but surely you can see some benefits out of us working together?”

“I suppose so. But I don’t like how ‘corporate’ this whole S.D.N thing is. Feels wrong. Trevor’s mission when it came to the B.P.R.D was to save all of humanity–meanwhile, all I hear around the office is talk of ‘subscribers’ and ‘quarterly reviews.’”

“How about that, we do agree on something,” Robert cut in, getting Manning’s attention. “I had no connection to the S.D.N until the suit was damaged. I felt I was able to do better as a hero in a more vigilante way.”

“I don’t approve of vigilantes either,” Manning clarified. “But I suppose I won’t blame you if ‘superheroes’ here are a career thing.”

With that, Manning finally left the lab–only giving Royd a nod of acknowledgement when he waved at him; leaving alone. Manning soon found himself in the lobby right as Quarry, Moss, Coupé, Punch Up, and Myers were preparing to leave.

“You’re heading out now?” he asked, looking at Quarry.

Quarry nodded, fixing his suit coat as he stood by Moss. “Yes, sir. We’re heading straight for the culvert where the Z-Team first encountered Sammael. We’re planning maybe on destroying any eggs we find, not fighting the monsters.”

“Good,” Manning said. “Is there any other news I should know about?”

“Have you heard about Phenomaman moping on the street?” Coupé grumbled, folding her arms. “He’s holding up traffic because he’s sad.”

Manning looked deeply concerned–not for Phenomaman, but for the potential damage an upset superhuman could cause. “. . . If you see him on the way to that culvert, send him back here so we can keep an eye on him.”

“You sure, sir?” Moss inquired, tilting his head. “I thought you wanted us focusing on destroying nests?”

“I’d rather the superhuman who can kill us in a flash be within sight than out and about while upset.”

Manning frowned when he heard Punch Up chuckling. Looking aside, he saw the Smallest Strongman leaning against Coupé’s leg.

“Is something funny to you?” he asked, tone sharp.

“Oh, chill out, Tommy,” Punch Up snorted. “Your paranoia’s a lil’ funny, even you have to admit.”

“Oh yeah?” Manning faced him entirely, hands on his hips. “Well last I checked, Santa’s Elf, the Lollipop Guild isn’t going to just sit around in this office until December, so stop lolli-gagging and get to work.”

He frowned when Punch Up actually laughed instead of grumbling at him. Waving everyone off, Manning walked away towards the elevator.

“I knew there was a fire somewhere in that lad,” Punch Up said, grinning. He chuckled when Coupé roughly pushed at him to keep walking. 

Myers, watching it all, kept quiet as he followed the two Z-Team members and agents.

Clay took a bite out of a donut in his hand, munching on it while his other hand remained on the steering wheel. He had decided to be the driver for Prism and Sonar during their shared patrol, taking one of the S.D.N’s branded cars for it. The agent found himself not minding the sights around Torrance, though he personally preferred Newark.

“So, Lightshow,” Clay glanced next to him only for a moment at Prism in the passenger seat. “You’re famous online?”

“Bitch, who you calling ‘Lightshow?’” Prism hissed, eyes narrowing behind her visor.

“Easy, easy,” Clay grumbled, frowning. “I just thought it’d be a neat nickname due to your light powers. No offense.”

Prism faltered, staring for a moment.

“. . . Oh.”

Sonar leaned in from the back middle seat, grinning as he placed a hand on each of their shoulders.

“Yeah, Prism, chillax. Clay over here needs a codename for us. Typical government stuff.”

“I don’t think you know how that works, bat boy,” Clay chuckled.

Prism rolled her eyes, glancing at Clay’s hair. “Unc, you need better hair implants.”

“What?” Clay uttered, turning bashful. “Wha–are they really that obvious?”

“To someone with taste? Uh, yeah” Prism confirmed.

“Dammit. I knew I should’ve never listened to Red.”

Sonar snorted, leaning in again. “Yeah, listening to him probably wasn’t a good idea, bucko. Us Harvard Graduates know better. You should take some advice from me.”

Clay and Prism shared a glance–wordlessly agreeing that Sonar was a moron. Sonar didn’t notice at all, looking forward out the windshield. As the car continued to drive down the street, Sonar looked around, before his ears perked up as he caught sight of a specific building.

“There, there!” he called out, pointing to it. “Park outside of there!”

“A tech convention?” Clay asked, moving to a parallel parking spot nearby the building. “You’re patrolling around here, why?”

“Bat Boy is a crypto-nerd,” Prism explained, rolling her eyes again. “He’s obsessed with the shit. That and I think they called us anyway.”

“You speak as if I am an addict–which I am, but not of crypto–Prism. But jokes on you, because CEO of VAND-CO, Willem Vanderstenk will be here and that’s networking opportunities galore, baby.”

“Yeah, well, you can have fun talking to Vanderstink. I’ll stay out here and teach the Unc how to use a smartphone.”

“Vanderstenk,” Sonar corrected, huffing as he got out of the car. “You lame-o’s enjoy your little bonding sesh, I’ll be in there making bands.”

Closing the door, he let out a brief sonic shriek to get a feel for the location. He then began to walk towards the convention, hands in his pockets. He glanced over his shoulder when he got by the doors, seeing Prism showing off her smartphone to a confused Clay. Sonar smirked slightly; he felt he could easily sell Clay some crypto.

Putting his mind to focus, however, Sonar entered the convention hall and began to look around. He recognized a lot of the big leagues present; all certified financial geniuses in his mind.  He’d love to chat with them all, but technically he had work to do. Vanderstenk and some of his colleagues were S.D.N subscribers and had called to have someone help with some technical difficulties, hence Sonar’s presence.

It didn’t take long for Sonar to solve the difficulties; to him, it was minor I.T stuff that just showed the convention’s venue didn’t have any proper process for certifying their I.T staff. Sonar took the opportunity to actually speak with Vanderstenk, and advertise his non-S.D.N services. He considered the CEO shaking his hand and accepting his resume as a win.

Now he was taking some time to examine the rest of the convention before returning to Clay and Prism. So far, all of it was pretty interesting to him, but none of it stood out too much. He stood by himself off near a corner, overlooking the entire lobby.

He didn’t notice Rasputin approaching him until the bald man was already next to him.

“Enjoying the event, my son?” Rasputin asked, clasping his hands together in front of his lap.

“Hmm? Oh yeah,” Sonar began, glancing at him. “Real geniuses at work here. You an attendee or part of a company?”

“Just an attendee, seeing how things play out,” Rasputin replied, looking out into the crowd. “Something about you is familiar. What line of work are you in?”

Sonar smirked, fixing his tie. “Harvard Graduate and Superhero at S.D.N. You’ve probably heard of my impeccable work then; name’s Sonar.”

“That must be it. Tell me; what is it like working with the S.D.N? I have always wondered how superheroes function.”

“Kinda neat, won’t lie,” Sonar replied. “My current dispatcher is a lil’ cringe, but it can be funny.”

“Dispatcher?” Rasputin inquired. “Yours is ‘cringe?’”

“Robert Robertson III,” Sonar chirped. “What a nerd name, am I right?”

“I suppose so. Are you currently working now?”

“Yeah, sorta. Finished a call early so I’m enjoying the sights,” Sonar hummed. He then checked his watch, sighing. “Duty calls though. Cya.”

Waving Rasputin off, Sonar marched back towards the entrance of the lobby to leave; not noticing Rasputin smirking as he left.

Myers shifted uneasily in the S.D.N branded van. Quarry and Moss had taken the driver and front passenger seats respectively, meaning he was in the back with Punch Up and Coupé. The van was set up so that he was sitting across from the two instead of next to them, at least.

Didn’t stop Coupé from glaring at him, given she sat directly across from him. She had her arms folded over her chest, tapping her foot on the van’s floor. Punch Up, meanwhile, seemed to be enjoying the moment.

“Darlin’, I think you’re scaring him,” he snickered. Coupé remained quiet. 

Myers averted his gaze for the time being, glancing towards where Quarry was driving. He occasionally looked back towards Punch Up and Coupé but didn’t do it for long.

“So, uhm,” he began, trying to break the ice. “You two know each other before becoming coworkers?”

“Mmhm! She was sent to kill me; one of her contracts,” Punch Up explained. “But she couldn’t because of my ability. We fought a bit, then fell for one another.”

“Don’t make it sound like a fairy tale,” she hissed.

“What? Am I wrong? We dated for a bit–we’re on and off right now,”

“Shut up,” she ordered, still glaring at Myers. Punch Up chuckled in response, nudging Coupé with his arm.

“That’s, uhm…interesting,” Myers meekly said, failing to come off as natural.

“Heads up,” Quarry called out from the driver’s seat. “We’re approaching Phenomaman’s location. Who wants to be the one to talk to him?”

“Not me. I don’t have expertise in talking it out with superhumans,” Moss said.

“Well, me and Coupé probably aren’t built for it either,” Punch Up grumbled. “How about you, kid? You already have to deal with ol’ shaved horns, this should be easy.”

“I…sure, sure,” Myers nodded, rubbing the back of his neck.

Punch Up reached over to give Myers’ knee a supportive pat. “That’s a good lad.”

Myers took a deep breath as he felt the van pull to a stop. Stepping out of the back doors, he shielded his eyes from the sun for a moment as he caught sight of Phenomaman standing in the middle of the road. When a car honked at the superhuman, it quickly reversed slightly once Phenomaman nearly punched it, only to droop his arms in defeat, continuing to sulk.

With a brief gulp, Myers approached Phenomaman, hands in his pockets.

“Uhm, Phenomaman? Sir?” Myers cautiously spoke, standing next to Phenomaman. Phenomaman glanced over at him; he looked rough, his sideburns all rugged and unkempt, and his eyes baggy.

“Hello…Jonathan, was it?” Phenomaman greeted, voice rough as well.

“Uh, no–no, sir. Just John. John Myers,” Myers replied, glancing up and down Phenomaman’s stature. “We, uhm…need you to head back to the S.D.N office.”

“Of course. I must be bringing even more displeasure now. It is a common occurrence now.”

“No, no! It’s just…we’re worried, y’know? It’d give us more peace of mind about how you’re feeling if you’re within sight.”

Phenomaman looked at Myers. “I see. I suppose it would be better than holding up traffic.”

“See?” Myers tried to encourage, smiling. “You’re already thinking ahead. I…may not know what’s got you in this funk all of the sudden, but maybe relaxing at the office will help.”

“I will attempt this. Thank you, Miles.”

“No, it’s ‘Myers’--”

Myers was promptly thrown onto the ground when Phenomaman blasted off into the sky, cracked asphalt left on the ground where he was standing. With a groan, Myers sat up, wincing as he rubbed his head. He heard Punch Up and Coupé cackling behind him, still in the van. Though he felt a bit bashful, he didn’t mind too much.

At least he actually succeeded.

Flambae snorted as he watched Liz look at him with a grumpy face. Currently, the male pyrokinetic was doing his barbell squats, wanting to get some of his exercise out of the way before he began training with Liz.

“What? You jealous, pyro-pal?” Flambae asked, snickering as he kept casually doing the exercise. Admittedly, he was squatting a lot of weight–his ego was proud of himself as usual.

“You’re supposed to be training me right now,” Liz huffed, tapping her foot impatiently. “Instead you dragged me to the gym to watch you do squats.”

“You’re being taught patience for the moment, it’s a key thing to learn, Liz,” Flambae replied. He then stood up from the last rep, hooking the barbell back up. He dusted off his hands, looking at Liz as he approached her.

“Alright, alright, now we’ll begin. Let’s start with the basics; what do you already know how to do with your powers?”

Liz turned sheepish, struggling to even look at Flambae. “I’ve only just recently started controlling it even slightly.”

She lifted up her hand, revealing it was now covered in a layer of blue flame. Flambae looked at it in interest, nodding his head. Normally he’d scoff and boast about his own capabilities, but with Liz it was hard; he blamed it on how she kept reminding him of his niece for some reason.

“Not bad, not bad. It’s a start. How long have you had these powers?”

“All my life,” Liz replied, voice quiet. “But I’ve never had true control over them. It got worse after the…incident.”

Flambae raised a brow, expecting Liz to explain. When she hesitated, he took a step forward, getting her attention.

“You can share. I’m a former supervillain, it can’t be that bad.”

“I caused a supernova in the middle of my hometown, killing my bullies and my own mother.”

Flambae just stared for a moment. “Fuck. That is pretty bad.”

Something about his honesty actually ended up making Liz feel a bit better. It didn’t feel like pity to her, or some other form of grandstanding. It just felt…real. She could appreciate it. Flambae held up his own hand, summoning a fireball in it.

“Already I see it looks like what little control you do have is over your own body, not projections,” he began, showing her the fireball. “We’ll work on making sure that shit is concrete before we go to projections.”

Liz nodded, only to frown when she noticed Flambae was missing a few fingers. “What happened to your hand?”

Flambae growled, eye twitching as the fireball in his hand flickered for a moment. He then huffed, extinguishing the fireball.

“A superhero did it to me back when I was a villain. I call him ‘Mecha Bitch’ but his actual title is ‘Mecha Man.’ Haven't seen his bitch ass in a little while now.”

“And yet you still call him a superhero?” Liz asked, head tilting.

“Don’t point out shit like that,” Flambae warned her, frowning. “It doesn’t help my ego. Now shut it and let the master do his work.”

Liz rolled her eyes, letting her hand go back to normal as she folded her arms. Flambae stood next to her side, holding out his arm.

“Repeat after me,” he instructed, glancing down at her. “Hold your arm out and try to summon your fire across the whole limb. Not just your tiny lil’ hand.”

Liz gulped, holding her arm out next to his. She concentrated, trying her best, but she found herself struggling. She could do her hand easily enough, but as she tried to focus on her arm, she instead felt the urge to just combust entirely. To explode out in a fiery ball of destruction that would engulf the entire gym. Before she could panic, she felt Flambae gently grab onto her shoulder and arm.

“Easy, easy,” he muttered, tone soft. “Don’t try to force it. It’s supposed to flow. Natural. Think of it like a river of fire flowing through your veins, not a wall you’re trying to break down.”

Liz nodded as she closed her eyes. She tried to follow Flambae’s advice, focusing instead on letting it flow, not explode. When she opened her eyes up, she saw that her entire arm was now engulfed by blue flames. Not roaring ones; soft, slightly wispy. 

She smiled in awe, looking at Flambae when he chuckled and nodded at her. She extinguished her arm with ease, facing him properly.

“See?” Flambae smugly said. “What’d I say? This going to be easy–”

Flambae then howled when a 20 lbs dumbbell casually hit him in the back; having been thrown with immense ease. If not for Flambae being a superhuman in his own right, he’d be seriously injured. Nearly engulfing himself in flames, he spun around.

“Motherfucker! Who fucking did that?!” he yelled, looking around at the empty gym. Liz looked around herself, equally surprised.

From around the corner, a certain demon was chuckling to himself.

Flambae growled when he couldn’t see anyone. Initially, he was going to go searching, when he and Liz both jolted when they heard a loud SLAM outside. Looking back at a window, they saw Phenomaman had fallen onto his back…on Flambae’s Kia, denting the hell out of the hood.

“Oh, what the FUCK?!” Flambae shouted, throwing his hands up, minor flames appearing across his body. “I just got the fucking thing fucking fixed! FUCK!”

Liz looked at him, stifling a chuckle. “Maybe we should get some food from the breakroom to ‘cool off?’”

Flambae glared at her for a moment, before noticing the flames around him, quickly extinguishing them.

“. . . I will let that one slide, pyro-pal.”

With a huff, he stomped towards the exit, followed by Liz. Still around his hidden corner, Hellboy intended on following the two, but as he glanced over at Phenomaman outside, he felt intrigued. That, and he knew he risked getting caught if he kept following the two.

So, placing his normal hand into his pocket, he went outside.

Robert entered Blonde Blazer’s office, ready to report to her about Clay, Prism, and Sonar’s mission. “Blazer, I’ve got–”

He then hissed and immediately looked away when he noticed Blazer was trying to zip up the back of a blue dress.

“Shit! Sorry, I’ll come back at a different time!”

“Actually, wait!” Blazer called out, glancing over her shoulder. “Could you help me zip up?”

Robert took a moment to decide before he ultimately entered the office, closing the door. He walked over as Blazer stood still, the dress still needing to be zipped up her back. With only a bit of hesitation, Robert helped her, stepping back once the dress was zipped up. Blazer sighed as she turned to face him, fixing up the dress’ front.

“Thanks,” she said in relief. “There’s a gala sponsoring the S.D.N tonight, and my attendance is basically required. How do I look?”

“Your areola is showing a bit there.”

“Shit,” she hissed, fixing it. “Good eye. That’d be embarrassing.”

Robert nodded. He raised a brow when he noticed Blazer looking out of the window with both frustration and concern. Following her gaze, he saw Phenomaman laying on Flambae’s car, with Hellboy standing next to him.

“What’s that about?” he asked Blazer. She sighed in response.

“Phenomaman and I have…broken up. He’s not taking it well as you can see.”

Robert sighed, shaking his head. “Right. Want me to go check on him? No offense to Red but I doubt he plays ‘superhero therapist’ very well.”

“That’d be better than me trying to talk to him again,” Blazer muttered, nodding at Robert. “You can if you want.”

“Always happy to help,” Robert told her, heading out of her office. Making his way through the building, Robert soon found himself leaving the lobby, now entering the parking lot. As he approached, he could hear Phenomaman speaking to Hellboy.

“--it just is an unpleasant feeling. Have you ever felt something similar, demon friend?”

“More than you know,” Hellboy grumbled. “Sometimes girls are just like that, man.”

Robert was intrigued by Hellboy’s response, but didn’t vocalize it. He cleared his throat to make his presence known, placing his hands in his pockets.

“You feeling alright, Phenomaman?” he asked.

“What do you think, Bob?” Hellboy snarked, smirking when Robert frowned at him. Phenomaman didn’t react to either of them, instead staring up into the sky.

“The Blonde Blazer and I have…ended our relationship,” he explained. “So far the pain is the only reason I haven’t flown up to absorb the sun and cast this world in darkness.”

“As you can see, P-Man’s in a bit of a mood,” Hellboy uttered, shaking his head. Robert gave him a harsh look before approaching Phenomaman again.

“Well, I’ve been through a few breakups,” he began. “I’ve noticed that, as much as it sucks, talking about it helps a lot. Especially therapy.”

“I do not think I am built for therapy,” Phenomaman stated.

“Do you feel better after mentioning your troubles to me and Red here?”

“. . . Yes.”

“That’s therapy, then.”

Phenomaman only gave a hum of acknowledgement. He then blinked, before sitting up with such immense speed, glass was shot out into Robert’s chest. Even Hellboy stumbled back for a moment.

“Do either of you think there was another? Perhaps another lover caused this?” Phenomaman asked, glancing between the two. Hellboy merely shrugged in response, while Robert took a deep breath.

“Well, I…am not sure if this caused anything, but the night I met Blazer, I kissed her after having a few drinks,” Robert said. He then held up a hand. “It wasn’t her idea, I kissed her, and she didn’t really reciprocate it. I didn’t know at the time it was because she was with you.”

Hellboy glanced at Robert, noticing that Phenomaman was just staring at the dispatcher now. When the superhuman coldly stood up to his full height, Hellboy snorted.

“Welp. Been nice knowing you, Bob,” he snarked–and yet, he placed his normal hand on the Samaritan anyway, ready to pull it out if need be. Robert, meanwhile, met Phenomaman’s gaze head on.

Neither of them expected Phenomaman to just pick up Robert and kiss him. After a second, Phenomaman then put Robert down, humming.

“I now no longer believe you caused the break up,” he said, before noticing the glass in Robert’s chest. “I see that my superspeed caused glass to impale you. I apologize.”

“It’s fine,” Robert waved it off. “Not the first time I’ve had glass in me in the past few days.”

“I see,” Phenomaman nodded. “Very well then.”

He then began to float back into the S.D.N office. Hellboy and Robert watched him leave before facing one another.

“You steal girls now, Bobby?” Hellboy coyly asked.

“Not intentionally,” Robert replied, before gesturing to him. “I saw you were ready to pull out your gun there. Guess you care about lil’ ol’ me after all.”

Hellboy frowned, pointing at him. “Don’t read too deep into it, Robert. Just being courteous.”

“I’m shocked you even know what that word means, Red.”

Robert considered it a victory when he heard Hellboy actually chuckle while the dispatcher walked back into the building. Hellboy remained outside, shaking his head before he perked up when someone whistled.

“Oi, Red!” Malevola called out from nearby, Golem standing next to her. “Me and Golem are about to answer a call that might be about Sam! Wanna come?”

“Yeah, you in, bro?” Golem asked, his massive head tilting.

Hellboy grinned, taking out the Samaritan.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

In the men’s bathroom of the office floor, Robert winced with each shard of glass he pulled out of his chest. Unlike the time in the boardroom, he was able to actually be shirtless this time–making it much easier to pull out each one.

At least, it was easy until Invisigal just appeared next to him, sitting on the sink. She kicked her feet in the air, glancing forward instead of at Robert.

“I had a dream that we were fucking,” she bluntly stated. “I didn’t finish.”

“Apologies for the poor performance then,” Robert said, paying her no mind. Invisigal snorted, nudging his shoulder.

“Not what I meant, nerd. I don’t dream about fucking dudes unless I actually consider getting with them. Normally not friends–cause then I gotta think about what works and what doesn’t. It’s like trying on a dress.”

“And of all places to tell me about this, you chose the men’s bathroom, during a work day. Truly a good idea, Invisigal.”

“Well luckily for you, Rob,” she purred, hopping down to look him in the eyes. “I can be anywhere.”

The silence went on for a moment. Until it was entirely interrupted by Waterboy having a deeply unfortunate bowel movement in one of the stalls. Invisigal’s smirk slowly faded as it went on.

“S-Sorry! Sorry,” Waterboy called out from the stall.

“See, Visi?” Robert hummed. “The bathroom’s meant for shitting, pissing, or taking glass shards out of your body. Not whatever…this is.”

Invisigal growled, glaring at the stalls. “You ruined this for me!”

“I-I said sorry!”

“Ignore her, Waterboy,” Abe called out from a separate stall. “She’s a walking H.R violation, frankly this is absurdly unacceptable behavior.”

“Fuck you too, Wet-Boy!” Invisigal responded, storming out of the bathroom. Robert shook his head, watching her leave as he called out to the stalls.

“Nothing to worry about, Waterboy. Abe’s right, she’s just being weird and cranky.”

Invisigal flipped him off shortly before slamming the door shut. Abe soon appeared from his stall, walking over to wash his hands. He gave Robert an acknowledgement nod as he turned on the sink.

“She’s truly a handful, I see,” Abe grumbled, scrubbing his hands. “How do you put up with it?”

“I’m used to banter. Hell, me and Chase say worse to each other.”

“Worse than sexual harassment?”

“...Touche.”

Sammael slammed into the brick wall of an alley as it squealed and ran down another direction. A portal opened up on the opposite wall as Malevola shot out, regaining her footing before bolting after Sammael.

She was surprised that the beast was choosing to run instead of fight. She, Hellboy, and Golem had found the Hound causing havoc in a farmers’ market; surprisingly, it didn’t kill anyone. Just threw things around. She assumed it wanted their attention, which made the fact it was having them chase it more concerning.

Gritting her teeth, she kept following the bounding beast, her grip on her sword tight. Hellboy appeared on the other end of the alley, aiming the Samaritan at the creature. He blasted right as Sammael jumped up to clutch at the wall, the shot instead hitting a dumpster. Sammael then launched off the wall to land behind Hellboy and keep running.

Malevola had looked up to follow Sammael’s path, pausing when she noticed a figure up on the rooftop–getting out of view just as quickly as she noticed it. She growled, motioning to Hellboy as she skidded to a stop.

“Keep going after Sam! I think one of his pals may be watchin’ us, I’ll handle it!”

“Fine by me, lady!” Hellboy called out, running after Sammael. “I’ll catch him with Golem!”

Malevola then jumped up, using the railings and balconies on the side of the building to get to the rooftop. With one last jump, she soared up and landed in a crouch on the top of the building, glaring ahead.

Kroenen sat on an air conditioning unit, sharpening his wrist blades with one another. His breathing was audible from the mask, and he didn’t even acknowledge Malevola’s presence; he just kept sharpening the blades.

With a grumble, Malevola stood up–never once loosening her grip on her own sword.

“Hmm. Gas mask. Leather fetish. You must be that Kroenen guy, yeah?”

When Kroenen remained silent, she growled. She stepped forward, her gaze narrowing. She got her sword ready, tail flicking.

“Fine, be silent. Better than you being a snarky jackass.”

She then yelled and lunged, slashing her sword down. Kroenen moved, the augments making him like a blur as he spun to the side. Malevola’s blade instead crashed down on the air conditioning unit, slashing right through it. 

She managed to twist her head in time to dodge a strike from Kroenen, yanking her sword free. She spun, blade swinging with another attack. Kroenen backflipped out of the way, lifting a wristblade up just in time to parry another attack from her. 

For a moment, the two simply parried one another’s strikes; Kroenen remained silent while Malevola progressively got more pissed, snarling with each attack. She managed to wrap her tail around Kroenen’s neck, earning a yelp from the assassin as she threw him across the rooftop.

He used his wristblades to catch himself, stabbing them into the roof. He then let out a raspy chuckle, glancing up at her. She ran forward to slash him, but Kroenen rolled forward to dodge it, slicing at her leg with a wristblade. She hissed, glaring back at him while he stood up.

“Dickhead!” she shouted, whipping around to slash him again. Kroenen sidestepped it, then the next, then the next, and even the next–she swore she heard him chuckling at her.

Whatever augment Shroud gave him was starting to piss her off. Kroenen landed a kick up into her jaw that made her stumble. She snarled, rubbing her face as she looked back up. Instead of fighting still, Kroenen instead was running to the side of the building, vaulting over it and landing on the next rooftop.

“Bitch!” Malevola shouted, giving chase. 

Huffing like a bull, she ran and vaulted across numerous rooftops as she chased after Kroenen. Part of her was regretting doing this in heels, but another part of her was using the pain as motivation to kick this bastard’s ass the moment she caught him.

At some point, Kroenen chose to vault over the edge of a building instead of jumping onto another rooftop, his coat flowing behind him. Malevola jumped after him, landing harshly on the ground.

Kroenen stood in front of her, her back to him as he glanced over his shoulder. Malevola was not impressed at all.

“What? Are you seriously trying to fuckin’ aura farm–”

Malevola perked up as she heard a squeal from behind her. Turning around, she glanced just in time to see Sammael was behind her, its tongue shooting out. The prongs latched onto her arm, and she hissed as she felt something stinging into her skin.

“Fuck!” she snarled, spinning her sword around–slashing the tongue right in two. Sammael squealed in pain, stumbling backwards as it retracted what remained of its tongue. Golem then appeared, snatching Sammael by the head with his large hand. He lifted the Hound off of the ground, holding it still as it squirmed and snarled, clawing at his arm.

“Ow. Ow. Ow,” Golem calmly said, not even sounding in pain. “You good, Mal?”

Malevola yanked the rest of the tongue off of her arm, pulling with it some kind of stinger. She growled and looked back–Kroenen was gone.

“Pussy,” she whispered, wincing as she looked down at the wound left in her arm. Hellboy appeared, reloading the Samaritan. He nodded at Golem.

“Good job wrangling Sam, big guy. You gonna do the deed?”

“Do what?” Golem asked, genuinely confused. When Hellboy gave him a deadpan look, he then caught on. “Oh, shit, right. My bad, my bad.”

He then crushed Sammael’s head in his hand, letting the lifeless body fall down. Golem grumbled as he watched the Hound’s chest cave in; a green orb splitting into two. Like usual.

Hellboy, meanwhile, walked up to Malevola, noticing her wound instantly. “Sammy got his eggs into ya, huh? Welcome to the club.”

“Damn, is that what that tongue does?” Malevola asked, frowning. “Hurt like hell.”

“You’ll get used to it,” Hellboy shrugged. “We’re done here, I ‘spose. Might as well head back.”

“Fine by me,” Golem said, already leaving. Hellboy walked back with Malevola, listening as she spoke into her comm unit.

“Headin’ back to base. Got rid of Sam but Kroenen was here; got away though. Now I’ve got eggs in me.”

“Well, duh, you’re a woman, Mal,” Sonar quipped from his end. “Of course you have eggs in you.”

“Not my own, dumbass, I meant Sam’s,” she chuckled.

“You have Sammael’s eggs in you?” Invisigal’s voice came next. “What, did you have sex with the weird ape-dog-frog?”

“We can stop calling it that now,” Robert cut in, huffing. “Like how we can stop thinking about Malevola fucking Sammael.”

“I did not fuck him, trust me. My type isn’t ugly eldritch abominations.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Hellboy chirped, smirking when Malevola shoved his shoulder. Once she was done speaking into her comm unit, Hellboy offered a lit cigar.

She pushed it aside. “Not for me, Red.”

“Your loss, lady. Your loss,” he said, puffing it himself.

Malevola then glanced at him, now curious. “I’ve gotta ask. What was it like growing up as a demon in your world?”

“Lots of secrecy,” Hellboy admitted. “I was raised in nothing but military camps until Father got a proper H.Q for the Bureau. Didn’t really get a taste of life outside of that until I met Liz. Had me wanting a normal one ever since.”

Malevola smirked, nudging him. “I knew you had a thing for that girl. Does she know?”

After a long pause, Hellboy spoke. “It’s complicated. Hopefully, though, with her being here and actually present instead of an institution, it’ll all work out.”

“God, you talk about it like a little kid, Red.”

“Screw you.”

Malevola laughed.

As the day slowly came to an end, Robert felt himself actually feeling a degree of hope. Despite Invisigal’s rough start with Abe earlier and her confrontation with Robert in the bathroom, she actually had redeemed herself; even catching a criminal, Lightningstruck, and turning him in. One of her few major successful dispatches. 

He had heard that Coupé, Punch Up, Myers, Quarry, and Moss had succeeded in destroying a good bit of eggs without running into trouble, though Bruttenholm was confident there were plenty more Sammael eggs hiding somewhere.

The Mecha Man suit was coming along well too. There was still a lot of work left both there and with Rasputin, but for the first time in ages, Robert actually felt confident about the situation.

He even felt a part of himself starting to enjoy working with Hellboy and the B.P.R.D.

As he prepared to leave for the day, having just finished speaking with Invisigal about her sneaking into a movie theater, he also received a text from Blazer, asking about a late dinner just outside the office.

After some consideration, he agreed to the dinner date–missing the way Invisigal seemed lonely on the dispatch terminal. Once everything was shut down, he left the building, and was met with Blazer waiting for him–still in her dress–by a small table that she had set up.

“Hey, Robert,” she greeted, smiling. It looked nervous. “I’m glad you could make it. They didn’t really serve us much at the gala, but I have some leftover spaghetti here if you don’t mind.”

“How gourmet,” Robert said, smirking. It softened as he noticed her nerves. “Is something wrong?”

Blazer hesitated. “Look, there’s something I need to tell you–no, show you. ‘Blonde Blazer’ isn’t…isn’t who I actually am, Robert.”

“What, are you secretly a man?”

“No, no!” she laughed a bit. “It’s just…here, let me show you.”

With a deep breath, she took off the gem necklace that she was known for having. Robert watched as, in a flash, Blazer became shorter–the dress looking like it actually fit now–her frame not as muscular as well as slightly shorter, and her hair now brunette.

Mandy. She was Mandy now. And she looked so nervous.

Robert snorted. “. . . What? What’s the issue?”

“You’re not upset about this?” she asked, voice soft.

“Why would I be upset? You look slightly different, sure, but you’re still the same woman I know, no?”

“But…but like this I’m not ‘Blonde Blazer!’ I’m just…just Mandy.”

“Just Mandy? No such thing. If I’m the same guy even now without the you-know-what suit, then you're the same woman. The same kind-hearted, empathetic woman.”

Mandy glanced aside, sitting down at the table. “That’s the thing, Robert. Phenomaman and I…we ended things because he only ever saw me as Blazer. He thought we’d be superheroes until the end of time. He never saw me as…me.”

Robert sat across from her. “I can see why that’d bother you. Do you mind if I speak my mind for a moment?”

“I’d prefer it, you know that,” Mandy replied, meeting his gaze. Robert offered a small smile.

“To me, I don’t see a superheroine whose normal life is overshadowed by her superhero one. I see a woman who gave a bum like me another chance when my main way of helping people was destroyed. Who has supported me every step of the way. Who has been the one thing keeping me sane when this whole ‘other world’ business showed up on our doorstep. Who saved me from Sammael. Who wants nothing more than to keep people safe. That’s who I see. And if that woman is Mandy? Then I see Mandy. I see her every day.”

He reached over to hold her hand, noticing it was trembling in his grip. Mandy gave him a grateful smile, squeezing his hand back.

“. . . Thank you, Robert.”

“You're welcome. Now, do you want to eat?”

Mandy chuckled and nodded. As they ate together, recounting the day, they shared a few laughs over some of the more absurd moments of the work day. For once, Robert felt truly at ease. He found that he loved moments like this with Blazer–no, with Mandy.

Part way through their dinner, they even had a chuckle when they saw Waterboy was still cleaning the office windows, even at such a late hour. Robert had noticed, ever since Chase said Bruttenholm gave the janitor a pep talk, Waterboy seemed slightly more confident. It was nice to see.

When they had finished eating, Robert and Mandy both stood up. Right as he went to say goodbye, she wrapped her arms around his neck, gently pulling him into a kiss. The shock didn’t last long; Robert soon found himself kissing back.

When it broke, he smiled at her. “Is this a promotion?”

“Please don’t use work terms during our dates,” she laughed, stroking his cheek with a thumb. “But, if you’re curious…I do look forward to more, whenever we have the time.”

“As do I,” he replied, smiling at Mandy as she smiled back.

Though tired, Robert remained in a good mood as he arrived at his still bare apartment. He held Beef in his arms, setting the chubby dog down once he closed the door. Cracking his neck, Robert prepared to head for his bathroom to start a shower.

He paused when he heard Beef begin to growl and bark. Looking back, he saw his dog crouched down, snarling and barking at something unseen.

“Beef? What is it, boy?” Robert asked, walking back out into the main room of his apartment. He then froze as he looked off to the side…

. . . and saw Rasputin sitting on his couch. The monk grinned at him.

“Hello, Robert.”

Chapter Text

Robert glared at Rasputin as he quickly secured the still-barking Beef in his arms, backing away.

“How the fuck did you get in here? Did Shroud send you?” he demanded, posture stiff. Rasputin simply chuckled, making no move to stand up just yet.

“Mr. Connors had no impact on my choice, Robert,” Rasputin explained. “I simply had to see you for myself. To educate you.”

Robert frowned, keeping his arms tight around Beef. “To educate me? Who the hell even are you?”

“So smart, and yet you cannot put two and two together, my son.”

It dawned on Robert, his eyes widening. “Rasputin. You’re Rasputin.”

“Excellent deduction, Robert,” Rasputin praised, softly clapping his hands. “It took you a bit longer than I had hoped, but I suppose stress can do that to even the best of us.”

Rasputin then stood up, placing his hands in front of his lap. He calmly approached Robert, caging the other man against the nearby wall without having to actually be close to him. For a moment, Rasputin glanced down at Beef, smirking as the dog snarled at him again.

“Your companion is very brave for his size,” he said, reaching to pet Beef. He gently pulled his hand back when Beef instead snapped at him.

“He’s normally very loving of everyone–tells me all I need to know about you, Greg,” Robert grumbled.

“It’s Grigori.”

“Gregory? Yeah, I know.”

“If you are trying to upset me, Robert, just know your immature methods won’t work,” Rasputin said. “I am a man with goals. A prophet given a mission from my masters. And you are simply a mortal out of his element.”

“Yeah? Try me,” Robert shot back, narrowing his gaze at Rasputin. The monk merely hummed, lifting up his hand.

“Allow me to show you a glimpse of what’s to come, my son.”

Before Robert could make another quip, Rasputin’s finger was on his forehead. He gasped, eyes rolling back as he was forcibly given a vision.

He saw Torrance, Newark–both worlds, his own and Hellboy’s, engulfed in flames, destruction, and chaos. No life was in sight, buildings destroyed and the sky red. Up above the clouds, he could only see glimpses of massive, eldritch creatures writhing in the skies; tentacles the size of Torrance itself occasionally coming into view from the clouds.

He saw corpses leading to a mountain of rubble; his own, Mandy’s, Chase’s, even the Z-Team and the B.P.R.D. Atop the mountain of rubble sat Hellboy, but he was different. Wrong.

His horns were fully grown instead of shaved, a crown made entirely of fire sitting atop his head. He was chuffing like a bull, sitting still, as if basking in the end of the world. He wasn’t the Hellboy that Robert had come to know. Not the same at all.

“He will bring about the destruction of both worlds,” Rasputin’s voice rang out from everywhere at once. “He will release the Ogdru-Jahad. He will wipe this pitiful existence clean from reality and allow it to be reborn. Reshaped.”

The vision ended, and Robert gasped, stumbling back against the wall as he clung to Beef. Rasputin remained where he was standing, smirking at Robert.

“Now you see the truth, my son. Now you should understand the fate that awaits this world.”

Robert caught his breath, holding Beef close; the dog was still growling at Rasputin. Robert then glared at him, standing straight again.

“I…I understand something, alright.”

Rasputin stepped forward, tilting his head. “And what is that, my son?”

His head was then knocked to the side as Robert clocked him right across the temple, making the monk stumble back into the room, nearly falling over.

Robert held Beef tight, making a run for his door. He got right to it, only to come to an immediate stop; Kroenen was hanging upside down on the ceiling just above the door, staring at Robert with a soft wheeze.

“What the fuck?” Robert muttered, holding Beef closer. Kroenen gently lowered himself to the floor, staring right at Robert still. Rasputin’s chuckle echoed from behind Robert, making him turn back around.

Rasputin rubbed his face, bending down to pick up a glass eye. He then peeled his eyelids back, allowing him to reinsert it. He glanced at Robert once it was in place, smirking.

“You are quite the fighter, my son.”

Robert glared at him, frowning. “I don’t go down easy.”

“As I’d expect from the notorious Mecha Man,” Rasputin muttered, glancing at Kroenen. “Leave him be for now.”

Looking over his shoulder, Robert glared at Kroenen–noticing the assassin had a wristblade up against his back. A part of Robert was genuinely afraid that he never felt the blade get pressed up against him. But he wouldn’t dare show it to the two maniacs right now.

“You heard the boss man,” Robert snarked. “Step back.”

Kroenen remained quiet, lifting up his arm with the wristblade; with a loud shink, it slid beneath his sleeve once more. He then took a step back, keeping his gaze on Robert as he wheezed through the mask.

Robert then looked at Rasputin. “So, you’re not going to kill me?”

“Not at this moment,” Rasputin confirmed. “You have your uses, Robert. More while you are alive instead of dead. More than you would ever realize.”

“Y’know, I’m starting to really hate you cryptic-speaking assholes.”

Robert frowned again when Rasputin merely chuckled. When he next blinked, Rasputin and Kroenen were gone. As if they were never there in the first place. Beef had finally stopped snarling, and was instead nuzzling Robert with a soft whine.

Sighing, Robert walked over and sat down on his couch, letting Beef rest in his lap. He pet the soft dog, trying to distract himself from the moment.

To distract himself from the fact he was genuinely afraid.

“I’m sorry, what happened?” Mandy asked, her tone both full of concern and venom. She–wearing the Blazer amulet–sat with Chase, Bruttenholm, Manning, and Robert in her office at the S.D.N building. The morning sun filtered through her windows, making the space nice and warm.

“Rasputin and Kroenen were at my apartment,” Robert confirmed. “Rasputin showed me a vision of Hellboy ending both of our worlds; Kroenen even had a blade up against me.”

“That knife diddler nearly killed you?” Chase asked, tone harsh–but not at Robert. He folded his arms over his chest, tapping his foot slightly.

Robert nodded. “But Rasputin said I had more use to him if I remained alive.”

“See, this is my exact problem,” Manning spoke up, pointing between Robert and Mandy. “We have no idea what plans Rasputin has truly schemed up, and if it involves Hellboy destroying both of our worlds, we need to lock him up and throw away the–”

“We are not locking my son up,” Bruttenholm firmly rebutted. “We never will.”

“Trevor! He’s being used to start the apocalypse!”

“Through no fault of his own. That does not mean we should imprison him.”

“It means we absolutely should imprison him! This ‘Z-Team’ is one thing, but having a beast of the apocalypse roaming about uncontained is too much!”

“We. Are. Not. Locking him up,” Bruttenholm’s words were final.

Manning threw his hands up. “Unbelievable. Unbelievable. Your heart is your biggest weakness, Trevor.”

“And your refusal to look at nuance is yours, Tom.”

“Gentlemen, please?” Mandy pleaded, brushing her blonde hair back. “I get it, we’re all stressed, but I don’t think bickering will solve anything.”

Manning and Bruttenholm were quiet for a moment. Manning then nodded.

“She’s right. We’ll talk more about this later.”

Bruttenholm gave a grunt of acknowledgement. Mandy then relaxed, standing up as she pulled out two files. She offered a tired smile.

“Thank you both. Unfortunately, today’s still going to be pretty stressful. Robert, we need to discuss who you’ll be cutting.”

“I’m sorry?” Robert asked, brow raising. Bruttenholm leaned forward himself, interested. Mandy pushed the two files forward to Robert, revealing they were about Sonar and Coupé; one for each. Their personal records.

“Since Invisigal succeeded in catching Lightningstruck yesterday, her score on the leaderboard bumped up…which means Sonar and Coupé are tied at the bottom. Corporate wants one of them cut to show that they’re being serious about the Phoenix Program being axed if no results are shown.”

Chase shook his head, tone somber. “Sorry, Rob. I know you care about them actually succeeding.”

Robert glanced at the files in his hands. Sonar and Coupé. As much trouble as they gave–between Sonar’s ongoing addiction and Coupé’s continuing sadism–he did truly want to keep them both. But with his hands tied behind his back, he had to pick–

“No.”

Bruttenholm’s voice cut through like a knife. Mandy, Robert, and Chase all stared at him with wide eyes.

“N–...No?” Mandy repeated, confused.

“No. Neither of them will be cut.”

“Trevor, it’s not our department,” Manning argued. “We cannot decide for them.”

“Even if you do not believe in the Z-Team’s redemption, surely you’d see cutting one of them as a chance for them to join Rasputin or this ‘Shroud?’”

“. . . He’s got a point,” Manning conceded. “We can’t risk that.”

“Professor Broom, I think it’s admirable that you want both of them to stay. Honest,” Mandy said, concerned. “But this is a decision that corporate made, I can’t just go against them.”

“Then allow me to argue on their behalf, if this ‘corporate’ decides to punish you,” Bruttenholm offered. “Because I do not care what bureaucratic work language they use, I will not allow either of them to be thrown aside like garbage after telling them I have faith in their redemption. I will not.”

“I agree with him,” Robert spoke up, tossing the files back onto Mandy’s desk. He folded his arms over his chest, remaining stubborn.

Chase shook his head in disbelief. Mandy, meanwhile, had a small smile despite her shock. “You both have that much faith in my program?”

“Of course I do, I work with them first hand,” Robert snorted.

“I raised a demon, rehabilitating criminals is nothing unusual,” Bruttenholm hummed.

Mandy let out a quiet chuckle, nodding. “Alright. I’ll let corporate know. Do you…plan on telling on the Z-Team about it? It might make them like you a tiny bit more, Robert.”

“I don’t care if they ‘like’ me or not. But I guess it wouldn’t hurt. These are copies, right? I have an idea to get the point across,” he grumbled, grabbing the files again. When Mandy nodded, he looked at Bruttenholm. “Want to join me, professor?”

“Gladly,” Bruttenholm said, following Robert out of the office. When the door closed, Manning pointed at Mandy.

“This is exactly why I had concerns over the S.D.N being a company instead of a regulated agency. Your superiors are over here, worried about ‘cuts’ and ‘budgets’ and–”

“Man, shut the fuck up and just get to work,” Chase snarked, leaving the office next.

Manning gawked, much to Mandy’s amusement.

As the Z-Team piled into the boardroom, they murmured amongst each other about what the sudden meeting could be about.

Current theories included a development with Sammael, new information regarding Shroud, or a drug party–something only Sonar actually thought was going to happen.

As they all took their seats, with even Invisigal being present for once, their murmurs silenced when Robert and Bruttenholm stood in front of the table. Flambae muttered something about “Bob-Bob and his husband,” but a nudge from Prism kept him quiet. Malevola leaned back in her seat, tilting her head. Sonar leaned against her slightly as he looked over himself. Punch Up and Coupé both kept to themselves, and Golem barely seemed even present in the moment.

Robert glanced between them as he held the files in his hands, nodding his head. He cleared his throat to get the Z-Team’s attention, waiting for them all to focus. Once they did, he took a small step forward.

“Thank you for showing up, everyone,” he began. “It’s a big deal that you did, because of these.”

He held up the files.

“Blonde Blazer informed me that corporate wanted one of you cut. Since Invisigal was no longer at the bottom of the leaderboard, the choice came down between Sonar and Coupé.”

The two respective Z-Team members stiffened. Coupé immediately began to glare slightly at Robert, while Sonar, for once, looked worried. Punch Up raised a brow, but did not speak; Malevola, meanwhile, looked ready to pounce at Robert if he said something wrong.

Robert, having some fun, let the moment last for a bit. Then took the files and tore them in half, setting them on the table.

“I chose neither. No one’s getting cut.”

The Z-Team was surprised, to say the least. Even Flambae didn’t have something to say for once, glancing at the torn up files on the table.

“You…argued to keep us?” Sonar meekly asked.

“It wasn’t just my idea. Thank the professor,” Robert said, gesturing to Bruttenholm. “If not for his courage to argue on your behalf, I would’ve felt tempted to just go with corporate’s decision and cut one of you.”

Bruttenholm nodded with a chuckle. “I was not lying about seeing potential in you all. You may be rough around the edges. You may be flawed. But I see future heroes in each of you. Just like my son.”

He didn’t miss how his words made Invisigal in particular hitch her breath.

Nor did he miss how all of the Z-Team seemed shocked yet appreciative. Malevola calmed down as she smirked at a surprised Sonar. Punch Up relaxed himself, smiling at Coupé when she looked at him in confusion.

“So…this was a big fucking waste of time then?” Flambae asked. Robert rolled his eyes.

“Way to make a nice moment sound pointless, Flambae.”

“I was joking, Boberto. I thought you’d be able to tell but I guess not.”

“In my defense, your jokes land as well as a plane without wheels.”

Flambae’s “fuck off” didn’t even sound genuine. Prism stood up first, fixing her visor.

“Well…thanks for the pep talk, professor…and Robert,” her tone was soft for once. “But if you don’t mind, I’m going back to work. I don’t make dough in the boardroom.”

Bruttenholm gestured to the door, giving her a nod as the Z-Team began to leave.

Flambae smirked at Robert, but for once didn’t comment. Invisigal nudged Golem as the two left. “You getting online tonight, big guy?”

“You know it, baby. This time I’m kicking your ass.”

“Yeah right,” she snorted.

Robert noticed that Punch Up held Coupé’s hand as the two left. On and off my ass, he thought, glancing up when Malevola walked by with Sonar.

“So, Mals, considering I’m clearly seen as ‘redemption material,’ I say we celebrate with my favorite lines of–”

“No.”

“Oh, c’mon! I’ve earned something, right?”

“. . . You can use my tits as a pillow while we watch those dumb finance shows you like.”

“WOOOOOOOO! Yeah, baby! That’s what I’ve been waiting for, that’s what I’m talking about! OOOO!”

Malevola snorted as she left with Sonar. Robert was now left alone with Bruttenholm in the boardroom. He faced the older gentleman, tilting his head slightly.

“I think we’re slowly starting to get to them,” he said, a bit surprised himself.

“I knew we would eventually,” Bruttenholm chuckled, cleaning his glasses. “We’ll need everyone on their best behavior to defeat Rasputin and Shroud.”

Robert nodded, leaving with Bruttenholm–the fear from his interaction with Rasputin the night prior finally being replaced with confidence.

Watch out you two, he thought. We’re coming for your asses.

Chapter Text

Ilsa Haupstein had to admit, the Red Ring was a lot more efficient than she would have given them credit for at first.

When Rasputin had informed her they would be working with Shroud, she was hesitant. There was a reason their group consisted only of her, Rasputin, and Kroenen. It was a small, tightly knit, persistent, and determined circle of individuals. The idea of including others, especially criminal syndicates, was an unknown variable in Ilsa’s eyes. But she trusted her lover and went with it anyway.

She was glad to say her suspicions had been wrong.

Shroud truly ran a tight ship. Augmentation production was rather high considering the Red Ring was just a syndicate and not an actual professional manufacturer. She had Shroud himself to thank for that. He didn’t tolerate inefficiency, and he always had plans for more when one job was done.

It was refreshing after having to deal with the Third Reich sixty years ago.

She glanced aside when she saw Rasputin walk up next to her. She faced him fully, reaching over to dust off his overcoat.

“My love,” she began. “I must admit, I was wrong about this ‘Red Ring.’ They have proven to be very effective.”

“As expected,” Rasputin replied, letting her fix his coat. “Mr. Connors and his men have given Kroenen the tools to be a pest to these ‘heroes.’ And now…he’s done even more.”

“Has he now?” Ilsa asked, eyebrow raising. 

Shroud himself walked over, getting their attention. His mask whirred slightly as he gazed upon the two cultists, placing his hands in his coat pockets.

“Your new Hound is ready,” Shroud said. “Just as you asked too. He should be able to keep his own against most superheroes. Even your beast the S.D.N took in.”

Rasputin and Ilsa both looked past Shroud as they heard metal whirring. 

The Augmented Sammael stepped forward, squealing. The augments surrounding its body were almost like an exosuit of some sort that formed a brace. They allowed the beast to walk on its hind legs instead of knuckle-walking, revealing how tall the creature was. Rasputin could tell just by looking at the Augmented Sammael that the creature had increased strength, increased speed, and potentially durability if the exosuit protected it. The Hound squealed again, drool dripping onto the floor.

Shroud gestured to the creature, pride in his posture. “Isn’t it wonderful, Rasputin? Ms. Haupstein? Your creature of old, enhanced by the technology of new. I’m sure there’s something poetic for you to enjoy.”

“Excellent work, Mr. Connors,” Rasputin purred, giving him a nod. “This Sammael seems more than ready to be sent out on the field.”

“I’d advise against putting him up against Blonde Blazer,” Shroud explained. “She is one of the very few true superheroes left. It would be easier to avoid having him earn her ire.”

Rasputin stroked his chin, glancing at Ilsa. She nodded at him, and Rasputin promptly approached the Augmented Sammael. He placed his hand on its gills.

“Hunt and test the child, Sammael. See if he is ready to become our key.”

The Augmented Sammael chortled, eyes blinking as Rasputin stepped back. It then lumbered towards the exit of the steel works, the exosuit whirring as it moved. Ilsa smirked as she watched the Hound walk by on its hind legs; Shroud, even through the mask, seemed proud of his work.

Once the Augmented Sammael stepped out into the night, the back of its exosuit whirred louder for a moment; a metallic pair of wings shooting out. The Hound roared as it took off into the skies.

The hunt began.

Myers had tried to enjoy a calm moment in the breakroom, but unfortunately for him, that was never allowed; he was starting to believe he was cursed.

“How the fuck do you throw away my lunch with a bunch of nasty ass food?” Flambae hissed, glaring at Waterboy. The janitor stammered a bit, before trying to muster up some courage; something he had been trying more ever since his pep talk with Bruttenholm.

“I-It—it wasn’t labeled!” he explained. “I didn’t–I didn’t know!”

“W-W-W-W-Well m-m-m-m-maybe y-y-y-you s-s-s-should a-a-a-ask next time, bitch!” Flambae growled, mocking Waterboy’s stutter. He then shoved Waterboy, making the janitor stumble and nearly fall back on the table. 

Myers then stood up, holding his hand up. “Hey, hey, Flambae, that’s enough. It was an accident, okay?”

“How about you mind your fucking business, doe eyes?” Flambae glared at Myers now, fists clenching. “The last thing I need is a lecture from a little bitch like you. You can’t even look Hellboy in the eyes. And you’re his fucking ‘liaison?’”

Myers blinked, stepping back a bit as he held his hands up. “C-Calm down now–”

“Don’t fucking tell me to calm down, bitch.”

“Flambae, I’m not trying to cause any trouble here–”

“Could’ve fucking fooled me!”

Flambae nearly had Myers crowded, but someone clearing their throat caught the attention of all three men. 

Hellboy stood in the doorway, a cigar in his mouth as he glared at Flambae. He calmly entered the breakroom, brushing his coat back with his normal hand. Waterboy stepped out of the way, retreating a bit at the sight of him. Hellboy paid him no heed, instead choosing to march right up to Flambae. Flambae, to his credit, didn’t back down; nearly eye-to-eye with Hellboy, he just glared back.

“Back off, Matchstick,” Hellboy said, tone cold.

“Or what, demon-bitch?” Flambae sneered, glaring harder. “Going to cry to papa about me being mean?”

Hellboy’s glare hardened also. “Don’t you dare speak of my father like that. He’s vouched for your asses.”

“Oh, I’m grateful, demon-bitch. But I’m sick of you. Half tempted to kick your ass right here right now.”

Myers blinked a bit, nudging Waterboy closer so the two of them could back up further into the break room. He could sense something brewing. Fast.

“Listen, Matchstick, you can try, but I told you already; I’m fireproof.”

“So? I have more than just fire, demon-bitch. I’ve got superhuman strength and durability. I could just beat your red ass.”

“Durability?”

Hellboy then grinned around the cigar.

“Is that so?”

Mandy and Robert walked across the office floor towards his cubicle. He had a coffee in hand, while Mandy–currently in her Blazer form–held a folder. The smile she gave him was no longer just polite, but soft too. They turned soft ever since their dinner date just outside of the office.

“Professor Broom is still adamant about talking to corporate himself,” she said, amusement in her tone. “Somehow I believe he’ll actually get through to them.”

“If he can make Red listen to him, he’ll make corporate,” Robert replied, smiling when it got a laugh out of Mandy.

“True, true. He has to have the patience of a saint to–”

Both of them jolted when Flambae was thrown through the door and part of the wall leading into the breakroom–hard enough that Flambae ended up slamming into a cubicle with a groan. Chase perked up, Beef in arms, staring in both confusion and surprise. Many other workers also looked over.

From across the office floor, Prism and Coupé looked over, both caught off guard–though Prism looked more concerned than Coupé did.

“The hell?” Coupé muttered, eyes narrowing.

“Damn, bestie! You good over there?!” Prism called out.

Hellboy walked out of the hole left behind by Flambae, dusting his coat off. He glanced up at a gawking Mandy, a confused-but-amused Robert, and a rapidly approaching, exasperated Manning.

He simply pointed to the groaning Flambae with a stone finger.

“He said he was durable. We wanted to test it out.”

“Fuck you,” Flambae weakly said, flipping him off as well.

“What the hell is this?!” Manning yelled, arms flailing. “You can’t go around destroying their walls! We have to pay for that now!”

“Just take it out of my paycheck,” Hellboy shrugged.

“You don’t have a paycheck,” Manning said, exhausted. “Everything gets paid for you!”

“Oh, then this should be no problem.”

“HELLBOY–”

“Thanks, Tom.”

Hellboy walked by a still sputtering Manning, puffing the cigar. He gave a small nod to Robert and Mandy–both of whom watched him walk by–before pausing as he noticed Liz at the far corner of the office. He beamed, tail wagging at the sight of her.

. . . Only for it to fade as Liz rolled her eyes and stormed out of the office.

“Liz?” Hellboy whispered, confused. He went after her, trying to keep his pace calm and not frantic. Robert watched him leave, while Manning tried to examine the damage in the wall. Prism, meanwhile, walked over to help Flambae up.

“. . . I am so kicking his ass. It is on sight now,” Flambae growled, wincing.

“Bitch, the only thing ‘on sight’ is how you got folded,” Prism snickered. “Focus on the glow up, bestie.”

Flambae grumbled something to himself as Prism helped him walk away.

“I’ll go speak to Manning,” Mandy told Robert–her hand briefly brushing his before she walked over to the B.P.R.D director. As they spoke in hushed tones, Myers left the breakroom, glancing around, before he approached Robert.

“Hey, Rob,” he said. “I, uh…guess you saw what Red just did?”

“I did. I did,” Robert confirmed, pausing for a moment. “It was deeply satisfying.”

“I…think that’s the first time you’ve ever agreed with Red.”

“I didn’t say I agreed with it, Myers, I just said it was satisfying.”

“. . . Oh.”

Robert snorted, nudging Myers’ shoulder. “Don’t read too deep into it.”

Liz stood on the sidewalk outside of the S.D.N building, her arms folded as she glared at the ground. Normally, she’d be struggling with the literal fire inside of her, but Flambae’s training was helping her hold it back for now.

She was just so…frustrated. She cared for Hellboy. She really did–to a depth she was hesitant to admit–but he made it so hard. Every time she thought maybe he made progress–that maybe he was finally learning to act normal, he went and pulled some stupid shit. Like throwing Flambae through the wall.

She felt her fingers clench against her own arms. She was so conflicted. On one hand, for the first time in years, she felt normal herself; with all the superpowered individuals around just Torrance alone, she didn’t have to hide her abilities. She was able to be herself and be accepted for just that.

On the other, part of her was wondering if maybe it would have been better if their worlds never collided in the first place.

And on the other other, a tiny part of her actually felt jealous over how much time Hellboy had been spending with the Z-Team. On missions, even just chatting. He used to be obsessed with her–actually, no, he still was–but they hadn’t had many chances to talk recently. Then again, she knew she was partly to blame for constantly saying she was busy. She never thought she’d miss the way he constantly wanted her attention.

. . .

Who was she kidding, of course she did. She knew she loved Hellboy. She just wasn’t sure if she wanted to accept what came with such a love.

She glanced over her shoulder when she heard footsteps. Sure enough, it was Hellboy; sheepishly approaching. Like a child, unsure of how to handle his own feelings. It was cute in a way, to Liz at least.

“. . . Red.”

“. . . Liz.”

Silence had returned. Hellboy idly kicked at the ground for a moment, unable to meet Liz’s gaze. After a few more seconds of unbearable silence, he finally began to speak up.

“Are you…mad at me?” he asked, finding the ground very interesting all of the sudden.

“I don’t know,” Liz admitted, also unable to meet his gaze. “I’m not exactly happy that you’re…still doing some things. But at the same time I…I’ve really missed you, Red.”

Hellboy perked up a bit. “You have? Actually?”

Liz took a moment to answer. “Yes. Actually. Now that I’m not as scared of my powers thanks to Flambae, I can focus on my feelings.”

Hellboy’s eye twitched at the mention of Flambae, but he wisely kept quiet for once, letting Liz continue speaking.

“Now that I have, I know I missed you. But…but Red, I’m not sure how we can do this. Things aren’t the same as back then.”

“What gave you that idea?” Hellboy hummed, gesturing to the S.D.N building.

“Red,” Liz warned, but her tone had very little heat to it. “I’m being serious. I don’t know how to navigate this. I don’t think you do either.”

His silence said everything.

“So…what now?” he asked, voice soft. “Are we done?”

“No!” Liz yelped, a bit too quickly. “Just…we need to take things slow.”

“I don’t do slow, Liz. You know that.”

“For me, though?”

Hellboy paused, finally looking into her eyes. “For you.”

Liz smiled, reaching out. Her hand held onto his stone one, her thumb rubbing against the rock. Hellboy’s smile was small, but his tail wagged fast. For the moment, the two just stood there, enjoying one another’s mere presence. Liz even found herself relaxing.

“So,” Hellboy began, smirking. “How about we go back inside and–”

A blur flew by and snatched Hellboy, dragging him right into the sky.

Liz stared for a moment, completely caught off guard, before staring in the direction the blur carried Hellboy off to.

“RED!”

Before Hellboy could look at his attacker, his face was introduced to the wall of a building–dragged across the surface for the entire length of the building. He could feel his shaved horns bumping off of any divot in the surface, as well as his skin heating up and going raw from the force.

Thank God for his durability.

When his face was done being smashed against the building, he felt himself get dropped, only to then be grabbed by his tail. He shouted, dangling from rather high in the sky–watching the street zip by as his attacker flew off with him.

He tried to look up and identify the attacker, but he then felt himself get thrown down onto a rooftop. He bounced against it hard, rolling against the surface until he slammed into a generator unit, denting it.

“. . . Ow.”

Unholstering the Samaritan, Hellboy stood up with a groan right as his attacker landed a good distance in front of him on the rooftop.

The Augmented Sammael landed on its hind legs, snarling at Hellboy as its mechanical wings folded up behind its back. Hellboy tilted his head as he examined the beast, not yet aiming the Samaritan at it.

“New outfit, Sammy? That’s cheatin’! I don’t have any upgrades!”

Slamming its foot into the rooftop, the Augmented Sammael’s arms flexed as it roared at Hellboy. It then snarled, jaws snapping shut as it shook its head, tentacles writhing violently on the top of its head.

“I know, I know,” Hellboy drawled, aiming the Samaritan. “You’re grumpy that I keep kickin’ your ass. Lemme fix that for ya.”

BANG! He fired at the Augmented Sammael…only to stare as the bullet, while still making the beast stumble backwards a good bit, didn’t quite hit it as hard due to the exosuit.

“. . . Damn.”

The Augmented Sammael hissed as it ran towards him like a man, rearing its fist back to punch him. Hellboy holstered the Samaritan right as he jumped back to dodge the punch–it swung by right in front of his face, making the Augmented Sammael spin away from him briefly.

Hellboy then grabbed onto the exosuit, trying to pry it off of the Augmented Sammael–growling when he couldn’t get it off.

The Hound thrashed and jumped around twisting until Hellboy finally lost his grip and fell off of it. Right as he stood up, he was met with the Augmented Sammael’s exosuit-enhanced-bone-club smacking him across the face. He yelled as he was thrown across the rooftop again, rolling against the surface to a harsh stop.

The Augmented Sammael lunged up into the air, roaring as it brought both fists down onto Hellboy’s location; the demon rolled away just in time, the fists instead smashing the rooftop where he had been laying. He stood up right as the beast swung another punch, dodging it just in time.

“Too slow, Sam–”

He did not dodge the drop-kick. He fell back with a groan as the Augmented Sammael caught itself with its forepaws, jumping back onto its hind legs. Before Hellboy could get up, it grabbed him by the foot, mechanical wings shooting out as it flew up into the sky again.

“Not again! Damn!”

Hellboy tried to kick and squirm in the Augmented Sammael’s grip as it flew through the sky, the cityscape beneath them seemed tiny from how high up the Hound had flown, and Hellboy didn’t like that one bit.

He managed to land a kick on the hand holding his other foot, causing the beast to let him go with a snarl. He initially laughed, until he realized he was falling; now he was yelling as he plummeted towards another building.

This is gonna SUCK, he thought.

He promptly slammed through the rooftop of the new building, crashing through it entirely, before landing face first onto a gymnasium floor. Groaning, he rolled onto his back, before sitting up.

He was met with an onslaught of bewildered looks from a bunch of kids–elementary school age–and some faculty. The demon had fallen right in the middle of a student assembly. He glanced across the gymnasium for a moment, his face bleeding from all the hits.

“Oh yeah, it’s May, ain’t it? You kiddos stayin’ in–”

The Augmented Sammael crashed through the ceiling as well, landing in a crouched, almost superhero-like pose on the floor in front of Hellboy on the other end of the gymnasium. Utter panic spread as kids and faculty alike shot up and tried to run away or hide.

Hellboy stood up, glaring at the Augmented Sammael. “Those fancy upgrades turn you into a cornball too, Sam?”

The Augmented Sammael snarled, drool dripping onto the floor, before its eyes darted to a child trying to run by; right as Hellboy took out the Samaritan again. With alarming speed, the beast lunged, suddenly grabbing the boy by the back of his collar. It then held the child up in front of itself as a meat shield. 

Hellboy, already aiming the Samaritan, then paused entirely, eyes going wide. The poor boy cried out and squirmed in the Augmented Sammael’s grip; the Hound had the audacity to seemingly laugh at Hellboy.

“Put. The kid. Down,” he growled. “You’re after me, chunk-face, not them.”

The Augmented Sammael instead let out a roar of defiance, before bolting for the doors while still carrying the now screaming boy in its paw. Hellboy snarled, tail flicking in agitation.

“Aw, CRAP!”

Chapter Text

The parents waiting outside for their children were given heart attacks when the Augmented Sammael instead burst through the front doors, blasting them off of their hinges. The beast roared at them, stomping forward as it continued to carry the boy in its paw.

The poor kid cried out, reaching for his mother–who was already screaming and trying to run over–as the Augmented Sammael’s mechanical wings spread out. Right as the Hound planned on shooting up into the sky, Hellboy ran out of the doors behind it, rushing forward. The creature jumped up–and Hellboy did the same, grabbing onto the Augmented Sammael’s feet as it tried to fly up. It squealed, stumbling around in the air.

“My son! Somebody get my son!” the mother cried out, only able to watch them thrash around in the air; her kid crying out more.

“Lady, give me a break!” Hellboy barked. “I’m tryin’ over here!”

Hellboy then yelled as the Augmented Sammael took off into the air, leaving the chaos of the school beneath them all. Hellboy looked up at the boy still trapped in the beast’s paw as the Augmented Sammael continued to fly.

“Don’t worry, kid! This is my job, I’m a professional!”

The boy was not convinced.

Hellboy held on for dear life as the Augmented Sammael flew throughout Torrance, having to kick his feet off of the side of buildings when the Hound flew too close to them. He held on tight, determined to not let the thing get away with the boy in its paw.

The Augmented Sammael flew down closer to the traffic, swinging its body around so Hellboy was thrashed around slightly as well. The demon yelped as he was hit with the sides of cars and semi-trucks alike. At one point, a side mirror hit him right in the crotch, but even then he didn’t let his grip up at all.

The beast then flew up higher, soaring with a speed that had Hellboy wincing from the wind hitting his face. It flew up and up, before dropping down again; the sound of the wind drowning out the boy’s terrified screams. It twisted in the air, heading for the freight train running through Torrance. It dipped down enough for Hellboy to be slammed onto the roof of the train, finally making him let go. 

As he rolled to a stop, Hellboy looked up; the Hound landed on the front car of the train, dropping the boy. The kid yelped and hung onto the roof of the train, unable to move due to fear. The Augmented Sammael stood in near the end of the front car, blocking the kid. It had the audacity to lift its hand and beckon Hellboy over with a finger.

Hellboy growled, standing up–stumbling to balance, his coat billowing from the speed of the train–before running over.

The S.D.N office was chaotic.

Liz had run in, stammering about how a “flying Sammael” had snatched Hellboy and took off into the skies. All of the dispatchers were immediately at work trying to track down any clues. The Z-Team stood at standby, waiting for their orders. Bruttenholm stood off to the side, his white-knuckle grip on his cane revealing his stress.

Robert himself was working frantically at his terminal, trying to find anything that could help. He overheard Manning nearby barking orders to Clay and Lime.

“Fucking hell!” Chase spoke up from his cubicle. “Torrance Elementary School just reported a ‘flying creature and a demon’ crashed through the school!”

“Are they still there?” Mandy asked, walking around the office to try and maintain order.

“Not from what I’m hearing,” Chase grumbled.

Myers glanced around, before looking up at the TV. He gawked as the news came on, hastily pointing at it.

“T-There! On the news! Look!”

Everyone glanced over; a news helicopter was following the freight train, showing Hellboy and the Augmented Sammael dueling on top of it. The beast was giving Red some immense trouble; landing strong hits on him.

“Jesus Christ!” Punch Up called out. “There’s a kid there!”

Invisigal gasped when she noticed the Sammael was augmented, horror filling her gaze–a horror that Abe immediately picked up on, his own gaze narrowing.

Robert got straight into action, looking back at his terminal as he tried to pull up the train’s location. Bruttenholm glanced at him with approval.

“Z-Team! I need you all to head out for that train! Flambae and Sonar, you can fly; go help Red! Coupé, use your flight to lead the others! I’ll try to notify the train to stop!”

“I’ll hitch a ride with you, babes,” Malevola said to Sonar, grinning at him. The bat man nodded, rushing out of the doors with the rest of the Z-Team.

Manning turned to the agents. “Follow them, make sure that thing doesn’t get away!”

“On it; you heard the man, let’s move, let’s move!” Clay barked, running out of the office; he was followed in haste by Myers, Quarry, Moss, and Lime. As they left, Robert continued to type away at his terminal, frowning.

“Do you think they’ll need my help?” Mandy asked, briefly placing a hand over her amulet.

“If there’s a metal-covered version of Sammael attacking Hellboy, there may be one on the way here,” Manning grumbled. “And I’d feel safer with the not-depressed superhuman being stationed here.”

Mandy frowned, but nodded.

Hellboy grunted as he was thrown down for the umpteenth time by the Augmented Sammael. He barely had time to react before he felt the back of his head get grabbed. The Hound lifted his head up, only to slam it back down onto the roof of the train car. Over and over again, his face was smashed against the metal, slowly but surely making a dent in the shape of his face.

With a snarl, he finally managed to elbow the Augmented Sammael, making the beast stumble back. He stood up, dodging a swing from the beast’s enhanced bone club. He then dodged another, and another; the Augmented Sammael hissed, drool hitting the train car. It then retracted the bone club, opting to try and slash at Hellboy.

Hellboy sidestepped its first attempt, landing a hook to its jaw with his stone hand. The jaw snapped in an unnatural position, only for it to snap back into place thanks to the Hound’s healing.

“Damn,” Hellboy muttered, rearing back to punch again–the Augmented Sammael instead grabbed his stone hand, lifting him up to slam him back down against the car twice, before tossing him down the length of the train car. As Hellboy rolled across the metal, the Augmented Sammael turned back to the boy; the kid tried to back away, but had nowhere to go.

The Hound had a thought. A vicious thought.

As Hellboy stood up again, he heard a cry out for help. Looking forward, he saw the Augmented Sammael holding the boy again–this time, over the edge of the train car.

Hellboy growled, struggling to keep his balance. “Put him down, Sam! And I don’t mean throwin’ him over the edge!”

The beast seemingly laughed at him again, shaking the kid over the edge again.

“Y’know, Sam, you’re a real piece of–”

The Augmented Sammael then threw the boy right at Hellboy; the poor kid shrieking as he spun in the air. Hellboy immediately sprung into action, having to catch the boy’s arm with his stone hand–but the action made Hellboy stumble, falling off the edge of the train car. His normal hand caught onto the edge of the roof, hanging on tight. He held onto the kid extra tightly, trying to stabilize them both as the speed of the train made them sway with the wind.

“Hang on, kid!” Hellboy yelled. “I’ve got you! I’m not lettin’ go!”

He glanced up when he heard approaching thuds; the Augmented Sammael now stood over him, squealing–a blob of drool hitting Hellboy right in the face. The beast then lifted its foot and smashed it down onto Hellboy’s normal hand. The demon winced, but held on. Repeatedly, the Hound slammed its foot onto Hellboy’s hand, trying to make him fall. Hellboy felt his grip weakening, but he was not going to let this kid die.

The Augmented Sammael lifted its foot again, but paused as it heard something blazing through the air. Glancing to the side, the Hound barely managed to shoot out one of its mechanical wings in time–blocking a fireball aimed straight for its head. The force still made the creature fly back, having to stab its bone club into the train car to catch itself. It looked up with a snarl, tentacles writhing.

Flambae landed on the car in front of the Augmented Sammael, glaring.

“Well, well, well, Sammy,” he grumbled. “Think you’re hot shit now, bitch?”

The beast simply roared at him.

Hellboy found himself looking relieved at Flambae’s intervention for once. He and the kid heard a sonic shriek, looking up in the air; Sonar, now in the form of a large bat monster, soared down, with a cackling Malevola riding his back.

Malevola jumped off of Sonar, landing next to Flambae with her sword out, her tail whipping. She flashed the Augmented Sammael a grin; it hissed in agitation back at her.

Sonar, meanwhile, latched the talons of his feet onto Hellboy’s shoulders, lifting him and the boy up into the air.

“Damn, Batty! Since when were you able to do this?” Hellboy chuckled.

“I keep telling you, Red,” Sonar managed to make his large bat face smirk. “Never underestimate a Harvard graduate.”

Sonar safely put Hellboy and the kid down on the train car, before landing in front of them by Flambae and Malevola. Hellboy glanced down at the shaking boy, noticing a few bruises and cuts. He frowned.

“Hey, Mal! Kid’s got some bruises! Mind checkin’ up on him?”

“Takin’ me away from the fun, Red?” she called out, backing away while keeping her eye on the Augmented Sammael. “Not fair.”

Hellboy took out the Samaritan as Malevola took the kid from him, moving to take her place by Flambae. 

Malevola hummed as she checked up on the boy, using her wound transfer if necessary. “Easy, kiddo, I got ya…”

Flambae prepared fireballs in his hands, glaring at the Augmented Sammael. Hellboy, in turn, aimed the Samaritan right at the beast, and Sonar roared at it while flaring his wings. The Augmented Sammael squealed and stood its ground, looking between them. All of them stumbled–and Malevola tightened her hold on the boy–as they felt the train beginning to emergency stop; Robert had succeeded in contacting the people running it.

Hellboy smirked. “End of the line, Sam.”

The Augmented Sammael snarled in rage, waiting for the train to come to a near halt, before lunging off of it onto the nearby road. 

“Go! I got the kid!” Malevola shouted. The three men nodded and took off after the Augmented Sammael–Flambae and Sonar in the air, Hellboy on foot. The beast was running down the street, dodging the occasional fireball from Flambae. It turned down a busier road, forcing Flambae to be far more careful with his fire attacks–something that made the pyrokinetic curse.

People screamed and jumped out of the way as the Augmented Sammael continued to run–Hellboy and the others hot on its trail. Sonar tried to swoop down and grab the beast, but it managed to roll out of the way. Hellboy shot at it with the Samaritan, but its exosuit protected it from the bullets.

“Dammit! How strong are these stupid augments?!” he growled.

Up ahead, an S.D.N van careened from the side of the road, jamming traffic as it came to a dead stop. Clay, Quarry, Moss, Lime, and Myers all jumped out of the van, aiming their handguns at the Augmented Sammael. They fired at it once civilians had gotten out of the way, their bullets barely doing anything to it.

The Hound lunged up, making them all leap to the side as it slammed onto the roof of the van, squealing. Right as it tried to take off with its mechanical wings, Myers–out of desperation–threw his handgun at it. It hit the creature right in the head, making it fall back down. He initially laughed out of disbelief.

Until the Augmented Sammael growled at him.

“Oh shi–” Myers muttered, before running. The beast chased him, pushing itself off of cars and structures alike as it chased the younger agent.

“Don’t look back, Myers!” Moss called out. “Keep running! Keep running!”

He, Quarry, Lime, and Clay tried to apply pressure to the beast by shooting at it, but it wasn’t being deterred. Flambae shot a jet of flame that the Augmented Sammael blocked with its mechanical wings. Sonar tried to, again, swoop down and at least knock the beast away from Myers, but the Augmented Sammael sidestepped him. Hellboy jumped over the van himself, landing on the ground as he tried to get a good shot on the Augmented Sammael.

He fired–hitting it right in the head, making it squeal and fall off to the side, writhing while it healed up.

“Thanks, Red!” Myers yelled, ducking behind cover.

The beast tried to stand up, hissing at Hellboy; not seeing Punch Up running to it until the Smallest Strongman landed a mean hook on its face. It hissed, before it was jabbed again and again by Punch Up.

It was disoriented, trying to swipe at Punch Up–who used his smaller size to dodge each attempt, until finally he was knocked away by the exosuit’s mechanical wings. The Augmented Sammael then used the wings to block knife throws from Coupé, who was flying in with Sonar. Sonar managed to grab the Hound this time, using his hold to throw it into a parked bus. Hissing, the creature tore itself free and began to run again–barely dodging an attempted swing from Golem, who tried to hide behind a truck.

“Ah, shit, I missed,” he said.

The beast continued to run, hissing as Invisigal–now with Myers’ thrown pistol–tried shooting at it from afar; surprisingly managing to hit it a few times. Shooting out its mechanical wings, the Augmented Sammael soared off into the skies.

Flambae, Sonar, and Coupé chased after it in the air. Sonar was the first to lose track of it due to not being able to fly as fast. Flambae and Coupé were hot on its trail until it started to zig-zag around buildings; eventually managing to lose them both.

“Motherfucker!” Flambae yelled, looking around as he came to a stop in the air. “Where did that lil’ shit go?!”

Coupé growled, eyes narrowing. “. . . He got away. Come on. Let’s go back.”

Flambae only reluctantly agreed–swearing he heard the beast let out one last laugh-like roar in the distance.

Down on the ground, the Z-Team, agents, and Hellboy met up by the smashed van–Malevola showed up with the boy in her arms, all patched up. They sat around until the police arrived–and with them, news reporters and the boy’s mother.

“Mom!” he cried out, jumping out of Malevola’s arms to run into his mother’s. She clung to him tightly, shaking slightly as she stared at the others. She stared at the bloodied and bruised Hellboy, pointing at him as she stood by the officers.

“T-There! That…that thing attacked the school with the other one! And took my son–”

“No, mom! He saved me! They all did!”

The woman blinked, glancing at her boy, before looking back at Hellboy. He merely waved her and the bewildered officers off, acting like it was no big deal.

“Just doin’ my job,” he said, leaning back against the van. 

As Clay handled talks with the police, Coupé approached Myers–who initially took a step back from her.

“Relax. I’m just here to say good throw earlier,” she grumbled. “Didn’t expect a boy like you to hit a shot like that.”

“I, uh, I guess instinct took over,” he replied, placing his hands in his pockets.

Coupé raised a brow, silent for a moment. “Still think I’m a ‘wacko?’”

“. . . Yes.”

Myers was then startled by Punch Up laughing–not noticing the other man had been standing next to him due to his height.

“Ah, darlin’, I love this boy; he’s a ball-buster!” Punch Up snickered, nudging Myers. Despite her eye roll, a tiny smirk escaped Coupé.

Myers considered it a win.

“So what you’re saying is the thing got away?” Manning asked, tone full of disappointment. He sat with Mandy, Bruttenholm, and Robert in Mandy’s office–Hellboy sat across from them all, his wounds mostly healed up already.

“What I’m sayin’, Tom, is that I saved a kid and now Sammy’s got fancy upgrades,” Hellboy rebutted, huffing.

“But now this fancy Sammael is still out there, still causing–”

“Director Manning, if I may?” Mandy spoke up, offering a polite smile. “Hellboy’s right, he did save the boy. Plus, we haven’t gotten any reports about the upgraded Sammael yet; it’s not mindlessly attacking people. Obviously we should focus on it, but a win is a win, right?”

“I agree,” Robert said, getting everyone’s attention. He made eye contact with Hellboy in particular. “You did good, Red. You and the Z-Team both.”

Hellboy, for once, seemed almost speechless. “Thank you, Robert.”

They shared a nod; Bruttenholm hid his smile. Manning huffed, folding his arms over his chest.

“Alright, fine, you managed to save a kid, but now’s the time to get serious; this ‘Shroud’ guy is now augmenting Sammaels–who knows how many he has.”

“That is something we will keep an eye on then,” Bruttenholm said, adjusting his tie. “For now, I think my son has earned some rest.”

Manning grumbled, but did not argue otherwise. He left Mandy’s office, shortly followed by Robert–who Hellboy noticed gave Mandy a suspiciously soft smile. When Bruttenholm gave him a proud nod, Hellboy smirked and took his leave. Mandy closed the door, sighing as she glanced at Bruttenholm.

“Today’s been pretty hectic, huh?” she asked, trying to lighten the mood. She relaxed when the professor chuckled.

“As our line of work always is, Miss Blazer,” he said. “Now, I assume your superiors wanted to speak with me?”

Mandy winced, walking over to sit at her desk. “Yes. They’re, uhm, not exactly pleased at what you did. Said the only reason I wasn’t fired was the whole other world situation on top of my popularity.”

“I am concerned that ‘popularity’ was even a consideration for them,” Bruttenholm grumbled. He looked down as Mandy called her superiors, placing her phone on the desk; on speaker. When she heard the call get answered, she cleared her throat.

“Professor Broom, on the phone is one of the directors in Administration, he–”

“Can he hear me?” the director barked out. “Who the hell does he think he is?”

“I can hear you, sir,” Bruttenholm confirmed, eyes narrowing. “My name is Trevor Bruttenholm, the founder of the Bureau for Paranormal Research and Defense; the department from another world, I’m sure you’ve heard.”

“I’ve also heard how you had our employee go against a direct order and not cut anybody from that program!” the director shot back, agitated. Bruttenholm kept his cool.

“I understand why that may frustrate you, but you must understand. Now is not the time to be cutting people from teams; our enemy can utilize them against us. Not to mention the whole point of the program is to redeem them, is it not?”

“Yeah, but only if they show they give a damn! All they do is lounge around, bicker, sabotage each other–”

“It’s to my understanding that the sabotage only began once threats to cut them were made.”

The director was silent for a moment. “Fine, I’ll give you that one. But what makes you think you even have the right to argue on their behalf?”

“Because I’ve seen them in action. I see the potential in them. It reminds me of my own son.”

“That demon is your son?”

“That demon who fought off an augmented version of the same creature we have been warning you about for weeks now? Yes. That is my son. That demon who saved that boy? Yes. That is my son. Or do you need any more clarification, director?”

Silence returned again. The director then cleared his throat.

“I apologize if it sounded like I was being insulting. But you still have no right deciding who does or doesn’t belong at S.D.N.”

“Even so, I will still fight for them. I do not see you out here trying to help with Sammael or Rasputin, or even Shroud. Your other heroes have not been deployed to help the Z-Team.”

“. . . I…suppose you have a point. But we’ll need more proof this program is actually working aside from your word, professor.”

Bruttenholm hummed, tapping his chin. “Why not allow a superhero or two–one that has always been–mentor them? Become a member of their team?”

He could hear the director murmuring to himself for a moment. “That’s not a bad idea, sir. Do you already have a candidate in mind?”

“I have heard and seen that Phenomaman is no longer a part of the D.T.L.A branch.”

“He’s…not in an emotionally stable state right now. Are you sure he’d be the best option?”

“It will give him purpose and help him. I am sure of it.”

There was another silence as the director thought about it.

“Fine. I’ll let Blazer choose whether or not to approve your options. But so help me if this program continues to falter like it always has been–”

“Then you can come here yourself and mock me in front of everyone,” Bruttenholm coyly replied. “But I have faith that won’t be necessary.”

The director muttered something to himself before hanging up the call.

Bruttenholm sighed, leaning back as he shook his head. He looked up and saw Mandy sitting there, smiling and slightly in awe. She leaned forward a bit, placing her hand over his own in thanks.

“Thank you, sir,” she whispered, relief in her voice. “Thank you so much for having this much faith in my program. I…I don’t know where we’d be without your morale boosts.”

Bruttenholm chuckled, shaking his head again. “I may be giving nice words out for free, Miss Blazer, but it is the actions of you and your team that is making me want to support you all. Do not miscredit yourselves.”

For the first time in a while, Mandy found herself smiling widely again.

Abe considered himself a reasonably skeptical man–or rather, fish man. He had a healthy amount of suspicion, but always let the evidence speak for itself.

The problem right now, however, was the absolute lack of evidence outside of pure speculation.

Ever since his brief brush with Invisigal, the small telepathic clue of her thoughts, he had been trying to find out more. To find out why she had such feelings. It didn’t fit her normal behavior, and that’s what concerned him more than anything.

So, while everyone was busy with office work between shifts, he took the chance to subtly spy on her throughout the day. He noticed the way she longingly gazed at Robert when he wasn’t looking, the way she would shy away from the others when the team wasn’t needed–a stark contrast to her usual loud self–and he noticed the horror in her face when she saw the Augmented Sammael.

He found it convenient that just a few days after she asked him about such a possibility, it actually appeared.

But convenience wasn’t actual evidence. So, Abe continued his current work; investigating the origin of the “portal runes” and where Rasputin and Shroud may be hiding, assisted by Agent Lime.

But he would always be keeping an eye on Invisigal, waiting for something new to arise.

Always.

Chapter Text

Prism snorted as she looked back at the footage she had recorded for her followers; showing the Z-Team chasing the Augmented Sammael just a few days prior. She sat next to Flambae in the breakroom, nudging him.

“Look at the views, Bestie,” she said, smirking. “The followers are eating that shit up. Apparently Myers is a hit with his white boy throw.”

“Did you get my good side?” Flambae asked, leaning in to watch.

Clay stood by the coffee machine, pouring himself a cup. He glanced up at them both, unimpressed. “Tell me again exactly what you did during that fight, Lightshow?”

“Uh, filmed it for publicity? Duh?” she frowned, looking at Clay as if he was dumb.

Clay stared off to the side for a moment. “. . . Forget I asked.”

“Don’t act like you did much better, suit-boy,” Flambae snorted. “The real heroes were the ones doing damage to Sammy.”

“And who do you rely on for information about Sammael in the first place?” Clay coyly asked, smirking when Flambae frowned.

“Not you specifically, Fishy’s responsible for that.”

“His name is Abe, Flambae.”

“Who cares,” Prism called out, taking a selfie. “Point is, he’s a fish and a nerd put together. What a combo.”

Clay sipped his coffee, frowning as he approached. “The point is to have some respect for your coworkers, Lightshow. Though, I suppose your team isn't exactly known for that.”

“The fuck’s that supposed to mean?” Flambae glared, standing up. Clay met his glare head on, not even flinching.

“I’m sorry, did I stutter? I said ‘your team isn’t exactly known for that.’ Seems clear to me.”

Flambae growled a bit, but Clay refused to back down, simply drinking his coffee.

Robert entered the breakroom, walking over to the refrigerator. As he pulled out his lunch, he noticed Flambae and Clay staring each other down. Sighing, Robert then stood upright, closing the fridge as he moved on to the microwave.

“Flambae, Prism–are you two behaving with Agent Clay?” he asked, sardonic.

“Just some banter, Robert,” Clay said, eyes still on Flambae. “Nothing out of the ordinary when you work with Red.”

“‘Banter’ implies that Hellboy has any wit to him,” Robert replied, earning a choked snicker from Clay. As he microwaved his lunch, Robert leaned against the counter, keeping his eye on Flambae. The pyrokinetic grumbled at Clay, before glancing at Robert with a raised eyebrow.

“What the fuck are you cooking that smells like that, Bob-Bob?”

“It’s called a steakhouse burrito, Flambae.”

“Smells like shit.”

“You would know, you reek of it after every shift.”

Flambae grumbled as Prism snorted. Clay took the moment to finally retreat from the scene, giving Robert a nod as he left the breakroom. Robert gave a half-wave back, taking a bite out of his burrito. Flambae muttered something about “little bitch” before he sat back down. Prism glanced up from her phone.

“Robbie, I gotta ask,” she began. “How much longer are we going to be dealing with this ‘Rasputin’ bitch?”

“Why would I know that?” Robert asked, raising a brow. “Professor Broom and Director Manning would be the ones to ask.”

Prism scoffed, frowning. “Forgive me for thinking our snarky-ass dispatcher was in the loop. I’m just sick of being on ‘standby’ all the time. I got to make money, man!”

“And you are making money, by continuing to do work for the Phoenix Program,” Robert said, tone like he was speaking to a child. “Something you should be proud of. Regardless, you also shouldn’t care how long it takes for us to finish this mission, you should care that Rasputin is stopped.”

“Aside from a few freaky monsters and a Nazi-fuck, what’s the big deal?” Flambae asked, leaning back in his chair.

Robert bit his tongue, choosing not to reveal what Rasputin had told him. Not to the Z-Team, not yet. “Did you miss the lecture where Professor Broom told us he plans on releasing the ‘Ogdru-Jahad?’ On the first day?”

“We deal with cultists all the time!” Flambae argued. “What makes this one so special?”

“The aggressive regenerating monsters that he had Shroud augment?”

“. . . Well when you put it like that,” Flambae reluctantly caved. “Fine, so the Russian and his goons have monsters, and he has history with the ‘B.P.R.D.’ Does it really require all of us?”

“Don’t you want to prove yourself, Flambae? I figured your ego would accept the chance to be seen as the hot shot. I guess you don’t really need it after all, huh? You must be just fine with how you currently are–nothing more.”

“You’re trying that reverse psychology bullshit aren’t you!” Flambae accused, glaring; it quickly turned into a smirk. “It’s working.”

“Good, now get back to work,” Robert chirped, leaving the breakroom.

Flambae grumbled, giving Prism a look when she snickered at him.

Liz kept her arms folded across her chest as she walked around the locker room of the S.D.N. She had wanted some space for the time being and felt that it would be mostly empty at the current time. Part of her was still conflicted about her situation with Hellboy; but another part of her actually felt a bit confident for once.

Although she knew Hellboy could be stubborn, could be a pain in the neck…he had seemed very, very genuine when he promised to try for her. If she never doubted anything about him, it was his devotion to her.

Her and Bruttenholm were the only people in the world who could turn him into a puppy.

She smiled to herself slightly at the thought. An amused chuckle escaped her as well when she thought back to how Hellboy had described Myers and Robert. If one were to take his words at face-value, you’d believe that Myers and Robert were immature, childish men that had no tact what-so-ever.

The fact he had unintentionally described himself was very amusing to Liz indeed.

On another note, she did find herself enjoying time spent with Myers or Robert, for that matter. They were good guys in her eyes, just in different ways. Myers was a kind soul and Robert, even through his sardonic comments, clearly gave a damn about helping people. She wouldn’t be surprised if those two ended up becoming good friends eventually.

She had heard about how Hellboy and Robert, on the other hand, tended to bicker. That didn’t surprise her one bit; two masters of snark were bound to target one another. However, something that she–and Bruttenholm, actually–had picked up on was that the snark between the two was becoming more playful than serious.

Neither would probably ever admit it, especially not to her, but they were starting to grow fond of one another.

She could tell there was still some…tension in the air around the office though. Even with Bruttenholm’s morale boosting, it was obvious the B.P.R.D and the S.D.N were struggling together. The grumbles from the agents, the constant infighting. It worried her immensely, but she had confidence in Bruttenholm’s ability to handle it.

She jolted, fire briefly appearing on her palms, when she heard a sonic shriek. Rounding the corner of some lockers, she noticed Sonar snorting something on a bench, before looking up and shaking his head. He faced her; remnants of a white powder on his nose.

“. . . Sup.”

Liz just stared at him. “Did…did you just take some drugs?”

“Rehab’s hard, Lizzie,” Sonar began, scratching his chin. “Nothing wrong with getting a little juice up every now and then.”

“That defeats the whole purpose of it. I would know,” she frowned.

“You an addict too?” Sonar asked, perking up. “Because I’ve got all sorts of takes on things like bath salts, the big H, and even–”

“No!” Liz yelled, before retreating into herself again. “I…I’ve been institutionalized. Because of my powers. I’ve always struggled with them, but Flambae’s been a big help.”

Sonar nodded, placing his hands in his pockets. “I know it’s hard to believe, but even a Harvard Graduate like yours truly can relate.”

Liz raised a brow, but remained quiet, letting Sonar explain.

“That whole ‘bat form’ thing-a-ma-jig? Yeah, I used to have zero control over that, it made my highs super awkward. Malevola helped me out with it. And she’s helping me with rehab.”

“That you are clearly ignoring,” Liz grumbled, but she did find herself relating to his own issues about controlling himself.

Sonar raised his hands, shaking his head. “Every man has his weakness, Lizzie. Even scary looking ones like Red. I know what his is.”

“If you’re going to say ‘holy water,’ just know it doesn’t burn him,” Liz hummed, aiming to shut Sonar down. She blinked when he scoffed and chuckled.

“I knew that,” Sonar snorted. He then pointed at her. “You. It’s you. You think I don’t notice the way he gazes at you? I’m a Harvard Graduate, baby–”

“Don’t call me that.”

“--I pick up on signs like those. The big oaf’s got a soft spot for you. And I bet you’ve got one for him.”

Liz faltered a bit, glancing aside. She was silent for a long moment, unsure if she should humor Sonar or not. She eventually sighed, looking back at him.”

“I do. I do. I just hope he’ll continue to ‘try’ to act normal for me.”

“You could always reward him by flashing your boobs–”

Sonar stumbled when Liz smacked the shit out of him, glaring. He blinked, holding up a finger.

“Lesson learned; do not suggest that.”

“Weirdo,” Liz huffed, turning to leave the locker room. Sonar jogged up to walk by her side, though he kept a bit of distance so she didn’t feel crowded.

“Alright, fair enough, Lizzie, but can I at least interest you in some crypto–”

“No.”

Hellboy laid back on an exercise bench, bored as he tossed up and caught a 40 lbs dumbbell repeatedly in his stone hand–like it was a ball. Off to the side, Malevola was doing her leg presses, humming a tune to herself.

Myers approached, glancing down at Hellboy while the demon was continuing to toss-and-catch the dumbbell.

“Are you…having fun, Red?” he asked, hands in his pockets.

“Kinda. Y’jealous, Myers?” Hellboy grinned, now doing it without looking. Myers gulped nervously, taking a step back out of precaution.

“More-so concerned you’ll end up destroying something. Again.”

“Is that why the nanny squad’s over there?” Hellboy asked, using his normal hand to point at the doors; Quarry and Moss stood at attention, watching over the gym.

“Director Manning asked us to do this,” Quarry clarified, palm raising.

“We had no say in the matter,” Moss said.

Hellboy waved them off. As he continued to toss the weight, Myers kept following it with his eyes, sensing something was going to happen soon.

“I also don’t want you getting hurt, Red,” he murmured. He glanced up when Malevola snorted, walking away from the leg press machine so she could stand next to Myers–towering over the poor lad. 5’10 versus 6’6.6.

“Worryin’ about Red? You’re cute,” she purred, wrapping an arm around Myers’ shoulder. “No wonder you’re his lil’ liaison.”

He blinked, looking up at her.

“Ma’am, that’s not why–”

“Don’t call me that.”

Myers stammered an apology. Hellboy chuckled, about to say something snarky–when he ended up not catching the dumbbell this time, the weight hitting him right in the forehead before bouncing onto the floor. He heard Quarry and Moss immediately wince.

“. . . Ow.”

He sat up, glancing at Myers and Malevola. “You jinxed me, kid.”

“What?! No I didn’t!”

“You absolutely did, Myers. Naughty boy,” Malevola cackled, punching his shoulder; he winced. Hellboy then stood up, cracking his back.

“You keep enjoyin’ the workout with Lady over here. I’m on my way to get some chow.”

“Wait, Red, you can’t–”

“Cya, Myers.”

Hellboy waved, walking out of the doors. He was flanked by Quarry and Moss. Quarry glanced back at Myers, shrugging. “Sorry kid, orders are to follow Red around.”

Myers was now left alone in the gym with Malevola. She smirked down at him. Chuckling, he gently moved her arm aside so he could take a step back.

“I’m going to, uh…see what Abe and Lime are up to. They’re doing their whole ‘investigating’ thing and…well I’m F.B.I trained and all, so…I can help.”

Malevola stared at him. “You’re a dork.”

He threw his hands up in defeat.

Manning stood off to the side with Chase, watching as Royd continued to work on the Mecha Man suit in the lab. The director still had immense concerns about the suit itself, although he was glad the pilot was somebody like Robert instead of someone from the Z-Team or, God forbid, Hellboy.

Though Robert’s snark was, in his view, unprofessional, even Manning had to admit the man was determined and didn’t take shit being slung at him. He could respect that, even if he and the dispatcher had disagreements over the Z-Team.

Chase frowned as he looked at Manning. “You’ve got ‘resting bitch face,’ you know that?”

“Resting what?” Manning looked over, brow raising.

“Resting bitch face. Means your default expression is a frown or some other huffy-pout that makes you look like a bitch.”

Manning glared a bit. “Where do you get off?”

“You should be thanking god that Invisibitch didn’t hear you ask that.”

Raising a finger, Manning instinctively went to rebut, before realizing he actually agreed with Chase. So instead, he grumbled and lowered his hand.

“Either way, that doesn’t excuse this blatantly unprofessional behavior. You’re supposed to be a hero–a former one but still one, no?”

“And? Doesn’t mean I ain’t able to use profanity.”

“In the workplace?”

“Nah, Chase, braddah,” Royd spoke up, glancing over as he kept tinkering with a panel. “I gotta agree with da Director dis time. Mad unprofesh.”

Manning gestured to Royd. “Thank you. At least someone in this damn facility knows how to actually behave.”

“Mmm. Fair ‘nuff,” Chase admitted, frowning. “But you ain’t exactly been peachy either, you old hoot. All you do is critique and yell.”

“Trust me, ‘Chase’ when you have my job?” Manning began, folding his arms. “When you have to juggle conspiracy theories getting out, paranormal entities ‘misbehaving,’ and the fate of the world? You’ll understand.”

“I worked as a Brave Brigade member, you old bastard,” Chase countered, pointing at him. “I know about heroic responsibility, but that doesn’t mean I get the right to just bitch at people all the time.”

“Is that not what you do with the Z-Team?”

Chase faltered for a moment, blinking. “That’s different and you know it. They’re a bunch of belligerent motherfuckers who wouldn’t know ‘good behavior’ if it walked up and smacked their Mama in the face.”

“I’m noticing a trend,” Manning sarcastically hummed. “When I do something, it’s me being harsh and unhelpful, but when the S.D.N does it, it’s suddenly ‘different.’ Mighty convenient.”

“It’s not ‘convenient,’ it’s reality, fucker.”

“Here we go again with the vulgarity–”

Royd cleared his throat, getting their attention. Putting on a weary smile, he approached, his arms raised in surrender.

“Fellas, fellas,” he began. “We all on da same side, yeah? No need to get all jam up. We beat dis Sammy and stuff together, das how.”

His smile grew a bit more confident. Chase and Manning looked at each other again, before Chase sighed and finally conceded, offering a handshake.

“He’s right. Sorry for the behavior.”

Manning, surprised, shook his hand. “Likewise for mine.”

Royd laughed, opening up his arms as he walked back to the panel he had been working on. “See? Much bettah, much bettah!”

Chase soon left to get back to work, but Manning remained in the lab, continuing to watch Royd work. For a moment, it was silent save for whatever tools Royd needed to use while he fixed the panel. After some time, he glanced at Manning out of the corner of his eyes.

“Y’know, brah–Director Manning,” he began. “I’m Phoenix Program myself.”

Manning blinked. “What?”

“Yeah, yeah. Royd got taken in by Robert’s fatha. Offered a job by S.D.N. Never looked back.”

“And now you’re a technician?” Manning asked, walking forward. “One who actually has a good work ethic? Who isn’t a delinquent struggling to follow basic orders?”

“Exactly,” Royd confirmed. “Tough work. Lotta time. But it paid off. Now I like it here; it’d be a bummah if I was still out in da streets. Program works, fo sho, fo sho. Da professor has faith–why not you, eh?”

For once, Manning went silent–getting lost in his thoughts.

Coupé hummed to herself as she sharpened one of her knives, sitting alone in the conference room. If it wasn’t being used, and if she wasn’t on call, she usually spent her time there. Nice and quiet.

. . .

Until Punch Up sat down next to her, grinning.

“Oi, darlin’. What’re you doin’ all alone?” he asked, resting his arms on the table. 

Coupé frowned, glaring at him. “Sharpening my knives. In peace. Until you showed up.”

“You wound me,” he snorted. “I thought you and I had somethin’, eh?”

“Don’t push your luck, Punch Up. What you have in strength, you lack in charm.”

“And yet, like a bird in a cage–” he flicked her wing, “--you always stay. Means somethin’, yeah?”

She huffed, glancing away to hide her snicker from him. She then glanced back down at her knife, her brows furrowing for a moment as she looked at her own reflection on the blade’s side. Punch Up leaned in a bit, recognizing the look immediately.

“What’s on yer mind, darlin’?” he asked softly. “You seem to be contemplatin’ somethin’.”

Coupé was silent for a few seconds before speaking. “That ‘Professor Broom.’ I’ve never had someone vouch on my behalf like that before. It feels…”

“Annoyin’? Nice for once?”

“Nice for once,” Coupé confirmed. “I thought I would only ever enjoy my ‘usual’ work but…seeing someone have genuine faith is refreshing.”

“I mean Blazer has faith in us too.”

“Hers is different,” Coupé grumbled. “It feels like a job with her. With the professor it seems a lot more genuine. To me, at least.”

“Eh, Blazer seems genuine to me too; just a bit naive, y’know? But you’re right. Broom’s a good lad. Doesn’t judge, not too hard at least. Even raised Red! That’s gotta say somethin’.”

Coupé shrugged, continuing to look at her own reflection.

Abe, in the records room with Lime and Myers, glanced at a different photograph of the runes that created the portal into Torrance. He looked up when he saw Myers looking through a few himself.

“Do we…have any idea what these are?” Myers shyly asked.

“Somewhat,” Lime said. “They seem to be divine in origin.”

Myers blinked. “Like…God? God God?”

“No, not Abrahamic,” Abe clarified, sticking a finger up. “Some other form of divine entity. We haven’t narrowed down which just yet, but it does mean something; everything we have done may have either been foretold…or expected to happen.”

Myers wasn’t sure if he was supposed to feel comforted or afraid by that statement. He chose to remain silent, continuing to look through the photographs.

Abe placed the one in his hand down, fixing his apparatus shortly after. “Myers, do you mind continuing to help Agent Lime with the research? I have other matters to attend to.”

“Oh, uhm,” Myers blinked again. “Sure? You go on ahead.

Abe nodded–giving another more curt one to Lime–and left the room. His hands behind his back, he began to pace across the office. He still was extremely skeptical of Invisigal, almost to an obsession, and he knew he had to reign it in to a degree. The Bureau needed him to focus on learning more about the portal and Rasputin and Shroud all at once.

But it was still bugging him.

As he paced, he glanced over; noticing Invisigal chatting with Golem near the photocopier. She seemed like her usual self at the moment, but Abe was still convinced that she was hiding something. He knew he couldn’t outright ask her about it–she was the type to never admit something if confronted, it bothered him–and he also knew that walking up and forcibly grabbing her was both very unprofessional and made for horrible optics.

So for now, he bided his time. He’d keep finding clues.

Mandy hummed as she sat down at her desk; across from it sat both Robert and Bruttenholm. She flashed them both a smile, adjusting the amulet on her chest, before clasping her hands together.

“So, Robert, as I’ve informed you, Professor Broom here suggested having a hero join the Z-Team to help ‘mentor’ them in a sense.”

“And his choice was Phenomaman. Who can barely find the desire to even walk,” Robert said, eyebrow raising.

Bruttenholm chuckled. “I’m sure doing something like this will help Mr. Phenomaman out. He seems to enjoy helping people.”

“That I can confirm,” Mandy said, gesturing to Bruttenholm. “But ultimately it is your team, Robert. You can choose to include Phenomaman or not.”

“Are there any other options?” Robert asked, tilting his head.

“Waterboy, actually,” Mandy hummed, smiling. “He was also recommended by Professor Broom.”

Robert glanced at Bruttenholm. The old professor glanced back at him, adjusting his glasses as a small smile appeared on his face.

“That boy has potential. I can promise you that, Robert.”

“. . . I agree,” Robert nodded, facing Mandy again. “So…can I accept both? Broom’s got a point about Phenomaman, but Waterboy also could actually prove himself to be very useful too.”

Mandy blinked at the suggestion, before leaning back with a smile. “I…guess so, yeah. I know he’d be thrilled to work side-by-side with his idol too. Though the Z-Team may be…less so.”

“Let them whine,” Robert scoffed, waving his hand. “It will be for the best for them. They’ll understand…eventually.”

A small smirk escaped from Bruttenholm at Robert’s words. Despite what many thought when meeting the professor, he was not above engaging in a little bit of mischief himself, even in his current age.

Hellboy had gotten it from somewhere, after all.

Chapter Text

“Y-You–you want me–for for—for the Z-Team?”

Waterboy’s tone was full of shock, confusion, and amazement all at once. He stared at Robert and Bruttenholm as the three of them met in the locker room, his gaze constantly shifting between the two.

“We think you’d be a good fit, Waterboy,” Robert said. “They need to see what’s typical for most heroes, and your optimism is perfect for the job.”

“And it will give you a chance to improve your own skills,” Bruttenholm added. He then smirked. “That, and you’ll be working with Phenomaman–isn’t that exciting?”

Waterboy gaped, eyes widening behind his goggles. “Wha–I–the Phenomama–Phenomanal–him? For real?”

“For real,” Bruttenholm nodded. He then chuckled when he saw Waterboy was struggling not to squeal as he hopped up and down. The janitor then shot both of his hands forward so he could shake Robert’s and Bruttenholm’s at the same time. The professor didn’t mind his hand being very wet now–having grown used to it thanks to Abe–but Robert was trying not to find it weird.

“Thank–thank you so–s-so much! I-I’ll do my best, honest!” Waterboy chirped, giving a shaky grin.

Robert chuckled, wiping his hand off on his pants. “We believe you, Waterboy, trust me. We believe you.”

Waterboy gave him and Bruttenholm a frantic wave as they left the locker room. As they entered the hall, Robert noticed the professor pausing and wincing, and was quick to place his hand on Bruttenholm’s back for support.

“Professor?” he asked. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Robert, thank you. I seem to be getting sicker by the day.”

“You really should let Hellboy know, sir. He idolizes you. If you’re gone soon, he’ll be…crushed, to say the least. I know I would be if I were him.”

Bruttenholm glanced at Robert. “Your tone. It reeks of experience. You lost your own father didn’t you?”

“I…I did,” Robert nodded, glancing around to make sure nobody was nearby. “He was the Mecha Man pilot before me, and my grandfather before him. I lost him when I was 15.”

“That is truly tragic, Robert,” Bruttenholm murmured. “I am sorry for your loss.”

“Thanks, professor, but I’m fine. Frankly, I’m more surprised you’re still working while ill.”

“Are you really one to talk, Robert?” Bruttenholm coyly asked. “Given how much you’re willing to ignore your own health for superhero work? Working at the B.P.R.D follows a similar concept.”

Robert shrugged. “I’ll give you that. Pretty sure Blazer said Phenomaman’s on the roof. Do you…think you can actually make it up the stairs? It’s a bit of a climb.”

“Robert, I'm old, not made of glass. But some help would be graciously accepted.”

With a nod, Robert led him to the stairwell leading to the rooftop. It took a while, but he was able to help Bruttenholm up each step. Not once did the professor complain; he actually seemed quite grateful, all things considered.

Up on the roof, they saw Phenomaman sitting alone on top of an AC unit. The former D.T.L.A member glanced over at them; his eyes still baggy, but slightly better than when Robert and Hellboy had talked to him.

“Robert. Professor Broomstick. What brings you both up here with me?” he asked.

“It’s just ‘Professor Broom,’ son,” Bruttenholm clarified, approaching. “We have a proposition for you.”

“Is that so? Did Blonde Blazer send you? Is she okay?” Phenomaman asked again, standing up. He looked between the two, desperate for answers.

“Yes-ish, but the point is she’s fine, Phenomaman,” Robert answered, holding a hand up. “We’re here to see how you feel about joining the Z-Team. Blazer and Broom suggested that perhaps you could mentor them.”

Phenomaman glanced at Bruttenholm, head tilting. “You and her believe I can be of assistance in such a state?”

“I believe doing this will allow you to heal as well,” Bruttenholm firmly stated. “I can tell you enjoy helping people. Do not let your pain forsake others.”

“I am being given a chance to prove myself worthy of redemption?” Phenomaman inquired, looking between them. “A chance to free myself from the pain within?”

“That’s a bit dramatic but if it helps; yes, you are,” Robert replied, hand on his hip. “You and Waterboy both are being offered positions. He accepted, and he’ll be happy to see his idol working alongside him.”

Phenomaman glanced up at Robert; determination flaring beneath the sadness. “Then I accept your offer. I will do my best to make him and my companions proud.”

Robert and Bruttenholm glanced at each other, only for it to be interrupted by Phenomaman hugging them both–surprisingly softly for his size.

“Thank you both,” he whispered. “This splendid opportunity will not be wasted, I assure you.”

“We believe you, big guy,” Robert said, patting his back.”

“Unequivocally,” Bruttenholm added.

Phenomaman let go of them, stepping back a good distance–a small, small smile finally on his face.

“Phenomenal,” he said, before blasting off into the sky. Robert and Bruttenholm watched him fly off; relaxing now that their mini mission had gone well. As they walked back towards the entrance to the stairwell, Bruttenholm looked at Robert.

“If I may, Robert,” he began. “I have an idea. I was thinking perhaps we can allow Abe to know of your identity? His unique frontal lobe will allow him to see the Mecha Man suit’s past if he touches it; maybe he can get some idea about where to start with the Astral Pulse.”

Robert blinked for a moment as he walked. “That’s…actually not a bad idea, sir. I trust him with my identity more than Red, that’s for sure. No offense.”

“Oh, none taken at all, trust me,” Bruttenholm chuckled. He then nudged Robert’s shoulder.

“. . . Is this a fucking joke?” Flambae asked, frowning as he looked between Phenomaman and Waterboy. The Z-Team had been ordered to meet in the conference room to meet their new teammates; nobody seemed thrilled.

Waterboy flashed a very nervous smile as he waved at them. Phenomaman stood next to him, though his hunched form revealed he was still very much struggling with his depression at the moment.

Bruttenholm and Robert stood together, with Mandy and Hellboy by the door. Mandy poked at her amulet for a moment, while Hellboy just looked bored.

“No, Flambae, this is not a joke,” Robert said. “Phenomaman and Waterboy will both be joining the Z-Team to be examples of how ‘proper’ S.D.N heroes work. Take their advice, and you’ll prove to corporate that the Phoenix Program isn’t worthless.”

“He looks like he’s about to piss himself,” Malevola snorted, gesturing to Waterboy; who promptly flinched a bit, his smile turning even more nervous.

“Easy with the Squirt, Lady,” Hellboy spoke up, tipping his head back. “He’s got a good heart if Father’s vouchin’ so heavily for him.”

Waterboy gave a grateful, though shy, wave. He took a hesitant step forward to address the Z-Team.

“I look–look really forward to working…working with you–you all–all of you!” he stammered, offering another nervous smile. It faded slightly as snorts echoed across the Z-Team. He took a step back by Phenomaman, who addressed the Z-Team next.

“I look forward to our time as a team together, even if you are all vicious criminals,” he said, nodding his head.

The Z-Team did not feel any better.

Mandy took a step forward. “I know this might be…awkward for everybody, but this was the best solution that avoided someone getting cut from the team.”

“Indeed,” Bruttenholm added. “I spoke with Miss Blazer’s superior about this; they were willing to accept no one being cut if someone else joined the team and all of you showed progress.”

The professor glanced around as he heard various murmurs from the Z-Team. Hellboy looked over himself, noticing Flambae muttering something to Prism specifically. Golem seemed to be the only one who didn’t care much for what was going on.

Hellboy then looked up when the bell for the second shift started. He glanced at the others, giving them a lopsided grin.

“Hey, hey, hey; they’re singin’ our song.”

Sonar let out a yawn as he and Coupé were on their way to answering a subscriber’s call. Phenomaman was supposed to join them, but neither saw him anywhere nearby as they traveled across the city.

“For a guy that flies fast, he’s taking forever to actually be here,” Coupé hissed, frowning as she folded her arms over her chest.

“Yo, P-Man!” Sonar called into his comm unit. “Where are you at, man? The party's getting started soon!”

“I thought I saw Blonde Blazer in distress and rushed to help,” Phenomaman replied over the unit.

“Phenomaman,” Mandy sighed over hers. “I’m still at the office.”

“. . . Oh.”

Sonar snorted, not noticing Coupé giving him an odd look.

“P-Man?” she asked.

“Red’s nickname for him. I decided to steal it because it works really well. Really fits the image of him.”

Coupé didn’t even bother to respond, choosing to instead roll her eyes. As she and Sonar arrived at the scene of the call–a desolate alleyway–she glanced around, grumbling as she saw seemingly nothing out of the ordinary.

“Why are we here again?” she demanded, glancing over at Sonar. Sonar was busy investigating the area, crouching down near puddles to see if they were water…or drool.

“It’s ‘elementary,’ Coop,” Sonar said. “Someone reported a Sam sighting, and we’re here to investigate and see if there’s any validity to it.”

“I’m a former assassin, not a detective.”

“And I’m a Harvard Graduate, such matters are beneath me; but hey, job’s a job, y’know? Makes us look good to the bosses and gets us some dough. Win’s a win.”

Coupé rolled her eyes, but assisted him with looking around the alleyway. To give Sonar credit, the bat hybrid was able to notice scratches on the walls and hidden puddles of drool that Coupé would’ve normally missed. She was almost impressed. Almost. 

At some point, Coupé was examining a scratch on the wall when Sonar suddenly yanked her back away from it.

“The fuck are you–” she hissed, only to stare as Sammael landed where she had been, quickly turning to face them both with a drool-filled snarl.

“You’re welcome, Coop,” Sonar hummed.

She grumbled at him, but kept her eyes on Sammael. The Hound knuckle-walked forward, bobbing its head and tentacles at them as it did. Coupé prepared one of her knives, while Sonar adjusted his tie behind her, ready to use a sonic shriek if necessary.

Luckily for them, right as the beast went to pounce, Phenomaman landed on top of it, utterly squashing it into the ground. He stood upright, glancing down at his feet at the crushed Sammael.

“I see that I have arrived just on time. I was not expecting Sammael to pop like a…balloon, was it?”

Coupé just stared in disbelief while Sonar let out a “WOO!” of approval. Phenomaman stepped forward–wiping his boots off on the ground–as he placed his fists on his hips.

“I hope this has answered the subscriber’s call?”

“It’s subscriber,” Coupé corrected, frowning.

“Thank you, Bird Lady.”

“That’s not…forget it.”

All three of them glanced to the side as a man stepped out of the shadows; Rasputin himself, hands clasped in front of his lap.

“This is a most intriguing development,” he calmly said, sunglasses covering his eyes.

“Yo, I remember seeing that guy when I helped Vanderstenk out a few weeks ago,” Sonar hummed, sensing nothing wrong.

“That’s obviously Rasputin, you idiot,” Coupé hissed.

“Oh. Oh.”

Rasputin nodded at Coupé as he paced around them. “Excellent observation, young lady. I am indeed Rasputin. Your team has fascinated me in recent times.”

“You are the ‘Rasputin’ figure our new friends at the B.P.R.D speak of?” Phenomaman asked. “You must come in with us then.”

“Why would I do that, young hero?” Rasputin inquired, smirking. “You have no power over me, no dominion here. I am simply intrigued that such an esteemed hero would be helping people like these two.”

“Cut the bullshit,” Coupé grumbled, pointing a knife at him. “Why are you actually here?”

“I have spoken the truth; I am intrigued about this…’Phenomaman’s’ presence on a team such as yours. What wrongdoing could I have possibly done?”

Phenomaman lifted a finger. “You sent Sammael to the S.D.N office, no doubt you’re also the reason why the augmented one kidnapped a child, and you’ve allied with Shroud–”

“It. Was. Rhetorical,” Coupé frowned.

“Oh. I see.”

Rasputin chuckled. Coupé then threw her knife at him, aiming for the center of his forehead–only to pause when Rasputin easily caught it in between his fingers.

“I look forward to learning more about you…’Z-Team.’”

In a blink, he was gone; Coupé’s knife politely left on the floor. She stalked over and picked it up with a huff, glaring around to make sure Rasputin was actually gone. Sonar looked over and shrugged at Phenomaman.

None of them saw Kroenen staring at them from the rooftop.

Waterboy was waiting for a chance to prove himself when Robert’s voice came over the comm unit.

“Waterboy, you’re up,” he called out. “The others are busy and we’re receiving a call about someone needing assistance at the refinery with moving materials. Try your best, alright?”

“You can count on I–on me, Robert! Heh,” he replied, making his way towards the refinery. He hummed–unable to hear Robert’s momentary confusion at why the caller had such a thick German accent in Torrance of all places.

As he came up to the empty refinery, Waterboy pouted slightly as he saw nobody outside. He entered through one of the doors–polite enough to close it behind him–walking onto the main floor of the building. He looked around and saw not a single soul waiting for him.

“Hello? Hello!” he called out, continuing to pace across the floor. He then sighed in defeat, placing a finger on his comm unit.

“Robert, there’s–there’s…there’s, uh, nobody here,” he meekly said. “I think it was just a prank–”

He froze when he heard squealing. Slowly turning behind him, Waterboy was met with a Sammael stalking up towards him, hissing as its tentacles writhed. He panicked and backed up, noticing another flanking from his left and another from his right. All three of them hissed at him, studying him–seemingly sizing him up.

“N-Not! Not prank! Not prank!” he yelled into the comm unit. “Three–there’s–SAMS! THREE SAMS!”

“Holy shi–get out of there, Waterboy!” Robert yelled back.

“I-I can’t! They have me cornered!”

“Hang on tight, Squirt!” Hellboy replied through the comms. “Lady, Tiny, and I are on our way!”

Waterboy whimpered slightly as he backed up towards a wall; the three Sammaels continued to approach and hiss at him. He found himself hyperventilating, but from the back of his mind, Bruttenholm’s voice spoke to him.

“Courage is not the absence of fear, but the willingness to act despite it.”

He found his breathing evening out as he replayed Bruttenholm’s words in his head. For the first time in a long while, Waterboy felt determination brewing beneath his fear. He was ready to act.

The first Sammael lunged at him, shrieking as its maw opened wide. Waterboy jumped to the side with a yelp–the beast instead flew right into an electrical panel behind where Waterboy had been standing. It let out a series of gargling shrieks as it was electrocuted; burning to a crisp as the lights flickered in the refinery.

Waterboy took off towards some machinery within the refinery. The two other Sammaels gave chase, hissing as they bounded after him. He managed to dodge an attempted lunge from the third, picking up the pace as the second one began to catch up to him. He then spewed some water onto the floor beneath him as the Hound caught up–the creature slipped on the ground, flying past Waterboy and slamming into a piece of machinery. As it stood up with a growl, the machinery fell; crushing it into a pulp.

Catching his breath, Waterboy stepped back, looking around frantically for the third Sammael. He looked up, spotting the beast hanging from a chain on the rafters. It lunged down at him with a snarl, making the chain fall to the ground.

Waterboy spewed more water on the ground as he dodged the lunge; it made the Sammael slip on the ground when it landed, giving Waterboy a chance to grab the chain. The beast lunged at him again, and Waterboy managed to dodge–throwing the chain around Sammael’s head as he did.

Fueled by adrenaline, determination, and the strength he didn’t know he had, he tugged as tight as he could on the ends of the chain from behind Sammael. The beast yowled and screeched, trying to fight back against Waterboy’s pull. It bent its arms back at horrible, unnatural angles to grab at the chain, but Waterboy kept pulling. With a yell, he managed to actually decapitate the beast, falling back as the head gave way and shot across the floor. Sammael’s body then slumped onto the ground.

Panting with a shocked expression, Waterboy stood up and looked at the carnage around him; one Sammael’s electrocuted corpse, the other crushed to a pulp, and the last one now headless. He had done the unthinkable and won against all odds.

He flinched and glanced to the side as the wall was broken down; Hellboy marched in, Samaritan out, with Punch Up and Malevola by his side.

“Hang on, pal! We’re–” Hellboy started, only to pause when he saw Waterboy standing by the third Sammael’s head. He glanced around, noticing the other dead ones.

“Holy shite,” Punch Up said. “Waterboy just solo’d three Sammaels?”

“No fuckin’ way,” Malevola chuckled, shaking her head. She put a finger up to her comm unit. “Waterboy’s fine. He took out the Sams all on his own.”

“What the fuck?” Flambae’s response was immediate. “Ain’t no way.”

“You’re telling me bitch boy handled the ugly bitches on his own?” Prism asked.

“That’s what we like to see, Waterboy!” Sonar cheered.

“Damn,” Golem commented. “Pipsqueak’s got spirit. No shit.”

Punch Up and Malevola then glanced at Hellboy, curious if he’d be jealous that Waterboy–seemingly–had no issues with Sammael. Instead, Hellboy holstered the Samaritan and flashed Waterboy a thumbs up with his stone hand.

“Atta boy, buddy! You did it!”

Waterboy gave a nervous smile in return, feeling a bit more confident than usual for once.

Hidden in the shadows on the catwalks above, Ilsa–the one who had made the fake call–looked down at them with surprise, and then begrudgingly amusement. She had underestimated Waterboy, evidently.

How interesting, indeed.

Invisigal groaned as she entered her apartment, rubbing her face. The day had gone mostly well, and though the Z-Team hadn’t quite accepted Phenomaman and Waterboy just yet, they weren’t entirely pissed off at their presence…for now.

Meanwhile, Invisigal was still feeling immensely conflicted. She felt tethered to Shroud because of her debt, and working with Rasputin was making her want to get away from him at any cost. But now with an augmented Sammael running out and about…she couldn’t do it anymore. She was already feeling guilt over destroying the Mecha Man suit; she did not need to add "assisting a lunatic cultist” to the list.

But she was also scared. Scared to tell anyone at the S.D.N or B.P.R.D about it. She had found herself actually wanting to be successful on the Z-Team, wanting to earn Robert’s approval, wanting to prove herself to be redeemed. She was terrified that revealing she had initially joined as a spy would ruin all of that.

Unfortunately for Invisigal, she was jolted out of her thoughts when she entered her living room and was met with Ilsa pointing a lugermorph at her.

“Guten tag,” Ilsa calmly said. “You are not as clever as you think you are, Invisigal.”

Mortified, Invisigal glanced over to her couch; Rasputin was sitting down, gesturing to the nearby armchair.

“Have a seat, child. We have much to discuss.”

She considered running for the door, going invisible and just bolting. But as she considered it, she looked over her shoulder at the sound of wheezing; Kroenen was guarding the door now, adjusting his coat as he stared her down. She glanced back at Rasputin, gulping.

. . . 

Fuck.

Chapter Text

Invisigal tapped her fingers against the arm rests of the armchair as she sat down. Frowning, she tried to glare at Rasputin–it faltered as the old monk just stared right back at her.

Ilsa kept her lugermorph aimed at Invisigal, her gaze stone cold. Kroenen approached with two glasses of wine in his hands. He gave one to Rasputin and another to Invisigal–staring at her for a long time as he did. Invisigal huffed as she took the glass, only to toss it right back at Kroenen. The assassin did not react to the wine hitting his chest, and simply took the glass back from her.

“Now that was rude and childish, Ms. Courtney,” Rasputin chuckled, sipping from his wine.

“You broke into my apartment, I’m allowed to be ‘rude,’” she replied, glaring again. “Where’s my roommate?”

“Safe and sound, nowhere near by. I did not want to add another inconvenience to the list.”

“Could’ve fooled me, baldy.”

Rasputin hummed, sipping his wine again as he leaned forward. “This behavior is precisely what I wished to speak to you about. You have been a…disappointing ally so far, Ms. Courtney.”

“What? Upset I’m not groveling at your feet, begging to suck your dick?” Invisigal snarked, flipping Ilsa off when the German woman scoffed in pure disgust.

“Not at all,” Rasputin answered honestly, his head tilting. “But I am curious about one thing. When were you going to inform us and Mr. Connors about ‘Phenomaman’ and ‘Waterboy’ joining your little Z-Team? Care to enlighten me?”

Invisigal froze for just a moment; but a second too long. “Why does it even matter to you?”

“Do you think I’m stupid? I know that, even in this deeply upset state, Phenomaman is one of the S.D.N’s best heroes. Even this ‘Waterboy’ shows immense potential, he just does not realize it yet. I also know…that you know that, but refused to speak to us about it,” Rasputin coldly said, staring deep into Invisigal’s soul through her eyes.

“I…” she murmured, lips pursing; caught. “I haven’t had a chance yet, alright? They watch me like a hawk over there.”

Rasputin simply stared at her for a long, anxious minute. He then leaned in again, shaking his head as a small grin appeared on his face.

“You are many things, Ms. Courtney. But a good liar is not one of them. Allow me to remind you of who you actually serve.”

Before she could react, he shot forward and placed a palm on her forehead. Invisigal gasped as her eyes rolled back, her head and body going almost limp in his grip.

She found herself in the void of space, the outer cosmos itself. Unable to move, unable to speak, she was forced to gaze upon an utterly gargantuan crystalline structure–seven main pillars attached to a central core. She noticed she was floating through the nebula surrounding the structure, approaching one of the crystal pillars. Just one of them was of such scale that she was struggling to even comprehend it; by itself it had to have been as large as Torrance and Los Angeles put together, if not bigger.

She was nearly pressed up against the pillar now, and only then did she realize she wasn’t looking at a normal crystal, but a prison. She could barely see through the translucent material, staring inside of it.

An eye far larger than the S.D.N office stared back at her.

Invisigal didn’t need to ask to know what she was gazing upon; one of the Ogdru-Jahad. One of the Seven Gods of Chaos. Staring down at her as if she was an ant. A bug in its way, needing to be squashed.

She wanted to scream but no sound came out. She wanted to cry but no tears came out. She felt her mind wanting to fracture at the mere sight of just the damn eye.

But before any permanent damage occurred, she found herself back inside of her apartment as Rasputin pulled his hand away. Invisigal crumpled off of the armchair and onto the floor, pulling out her inhaler to take a puff of it. Rasputin remained on the couch, glancing down at her.

“Now do you understand, child?” he asked. “Do you still wish to be stubborn?”

Invisigal stood up on shaky feet, glaring at Rasputin. She remained quiet, her hand also shaking as she held onto her inhaler. She remained quiet, before trying to hit him with a right hook.

Instead, the butt of Ilsa’s lugermorph hit her in the diaphragm. She wheezed, crumpling to the floor as she dropped her inhaler. She tried to hold her breath to go invisible, but Ilsa then kicked her in the stomach, making her cough. As Ilsa continued to kick at her, Kroenen joined in, stomping his foot against Invisigal’s side and back.

Rasputin leaned back on the couch, not reacting; he simply drank his wine as he watched Ilsa and Kroenen both stomp and kick the shit out of Invisigal on the floor. She couldn’t even fight back, the constant hits to her stomach making her unable to hold her breath and go invisible; she eventually just resorted to covering her face.

Only when Rasputin raised a palm and stood up did Ilsa and Kroenen back off. Invisigal wheezed again, reaching for her inhaler–Rasputin kicked it aside. He then planted his foot on her back, holding her in place.

He leaned down, resting his arm on his knee to amplify the pressure. “This is your last chance, Ms. Courtney. Do not waste it as easily as you did the first.”

He poured the rest of his wine over her head, tossing the glass over his shoulder. When she blinked, he, Ilsa, and Kroenen were gone.

She wasted no time; immediately she crawled over to her inhaler, snatching it up and taking a big puff from it. She then rolled onto her back, staring up at the ceiling through her wine-slick bangs. She had to admit, Rasputin had jostled her a good bit. Had scared her a good bit as well.

. . . But she would not let that stop her.

She may have been terrified, but she’d still push through–if her time with Robert and the Z-Team had taught her anything, it was that she could make her own choices.

Now was her time.

Robert flipped up his welder mask when he heard someone entering the lab, having just finished working on a piece from the Mecha Man suit’s leg. Sitting up, he saw Bruttenholm entering, assisted by Abe. Royd led them in, grinning as he gestured to the Mecha Man suit.

“Dere it is! Robert’s Mecha Man, Mr. Blue,” Royd said proudly, still grinning. “Just don’t go telling Hellboy, yeah? It’s kapu.”

Abe nodded at Royd, before looking at the suit; awe filling his gaze. “How fascinating. A power suit of sorts. Red would see it as a new toy for sure.”

“Yeah, which is exactly why I do not want him knowing about it for the time being–not while it’s still not functional,” Robert explained, setting his welding tools aside. “Mecha Man’s kind of a big deal here in Torrance; but I don’t use it to fuck around. This right here? It’s a family legacy and how I do my hero work. At least it was before it was damaged.”

Bruttenholm smirked. “I knew I liked you for a reason, Robert–Abe can confirm it.”

Robert raised a brow, only to blink as Abe held onto his arm. The Ichthyo Sapien looked around at the air, humming to himself.

“Pure of heart, just like Myers. Explains quite a lot actually.”

“You can tell all that by just touch, huh?” Robert asked, pulling his arm away once Abe let him go.

“Indeed. The professor informed me he already told you of my unique frontal lobe.”

“Yeah, I just figured that would’ve meant you were a big nerd instead of telepathic; though it might be a lot more helpful that you are.”

“Mr. Blue is still a science nerd, hundred percent,” Royd chimed in as he typed away at an interface, earning a chuckle from Bruttenholm.

Abe walked over to the Mecha Man suit, looking over it a few more times, before placing his palm flat against the arm of the suit. He closed his eyes, his breathing apparatus bubbling as he concentrated on his power.

Robert, meanwhile, stepped back towards Bruttenholm, arms folding over his chest.

“What’s his story?” he asked, whispering. “Did he come from the same portal as Red?”

“Not at all,” Bruttenholm answered. “He was found beneath Washington D.C in a stasis labeled April 15, 1865–the day Abraham Lincoln died. Hence the name Abe.”

Robert nodded, glancing back at Abe. For a long moment, Abe just stood there. He eventually took his palm off of the suit, and walked back over to the others.

“I apologize,” he began. “But it seems the ‘Astral Pulse’ was made separately from the suit. I could not find its creation, only its first implementation into the suit.”

“Dammit,” Robert groaned, rubbing his face.

“However!” Abe spoke up, holding a finger up. “What I also saw was a man who put everything on the line to keep people safe–and is continuing to do so. I look forward to seeing ‘Mecha Man’ return to the streets, Robert.”

Abe shook Robert’s hand–humming when he saw the dispatcher look genuinely surprised by the praise. Royd grinned as he looked up from typing.

“Dat’s mo’ like it! You think we giving up just because the Pulse trowin me off? No can!”

“Very well,” Bruttenholm said. “It is unfortunate that Abe couldn’t help more, but we’ll leave you boys to your work. You can trust Abe to be mature and not go blabbering out your secrets.”

Robert and Royd both waved as Bruttenholm and Abe left the lab. Abe glanced over his shoulder, waiting for when he and Bruttenholm were out of ear shot before he leaned in to whisper to the professor.

“Professor Broom, I saw something else of interest as well,” he said, voice serious.

“Must be concerning if you’re telling me in secret.”

“I would say so,” Abe nodded. “I saw the night the suit was destroyed. Something invisible attached a bomb to the back of the suit. Invisible.”

Abe’s implication was not lost on Bruttenholm. The older man was quiet for a moment, before he looked up at Abe.

“You believe Invisigal is the cause?” he asked.

“There’s more. She already knows as well; she sometimes goes down there to watch them work on the suit. Granted, they allow her to, but…but, sir, something is wrong with her. The fear. The regret. She asks about augmenting Sammael and not too long later, he appears? The suit was destroyed and shortly after, according to her file, she turned herself in to the S.D.N? It is all immensely suspicious.”

Bruttenholm nodded, understanding Abe’s concern. He then sighed, stroking his beard as he contemplated the information. He looked at Abe, his tone serious.

“This is troubling. But not necessarily damning. From what I’ve seen, she is trying, especially the more we keep helping the Z-Team. If she has skeletons in her closet, I imagine she’ll tell us eventually, if not soon. But continue to keep an eye on her just in case–and do NOT tell Tom. You know him.”

“Understood, sir,” Abe replied, nodding. He was satisfied with the professor’s response. He knew he may be reading into a situation without any context, but he’d be damned before he ignored a potential issue in the ranks.

“Thank you, Abe,” Bruttenholm said. He then pawed at his chest for a moment as he continued walking–only stopping when he noticed Abe had paused behind him.

“. . . You’re still very ill,” Abe stated quietly, somberly. “Professor. Red has to know. It will crush him if you just…pass on suddenly.”

“I know. I know,” Bruttenholm replied. “But if we tell him now, he will drop everything and focus on me; there are people in danger, Abe. I am an old man. I’m prepared for my passing. I will not stand in his way when it comes to innocent lives.”

Abe lowered his gaze a bit, but completely understood. “Such a mentality is why you’re so esteemed, sir. Though, I must say…you’re as equally stubborn as Red.”

“Well, you know what they say, Abe; like father like son.”

Abe snorted.

Liz grit her teeth as she tried to concentrate on the fireballs forming in her hands. It was difficult; the urge to just explode right then and there in the S.D.N building’s gym was almost unbearable, but she was determined to control her powers. She could feel her hands shaking, the fireballs occasionally flaring up before retreating slightly as she struggled.

After a bit more struggling–feeling the flames trying to break out of her–she finally extinguished the fireballs and collapsed to her knees. Panting, she glanced over to the side.

Flambae was doing his squat lifts, humming. “Good, good. That was better than last time.”

“Again,” she began, frowning. “You can actually help me instead of just watching.”

“I can’t do it all for you, Lizzie, c’mon now. I’m your mentor, not your ‘fix-my-problems-instantly’ button.”

“Do you have to be doing exercises, muttering about how strong you are during them?”

Flambae paused, setting the barbell up on the rack. “Alright, you might be right. The point is, this time was better than before. You’re making progress.”

Liz stood up, rubbing her arm as she rolled her eyes. “Good to hear.”

“What’s bugging you?” Flambae asked, raising a brow.

“It’s that obvious?” Liz sighed. “It’s…I’m just worried about Red.”

“What do you see in the demon-bitch anyway?” Flambae snorted. “He’s a dumb motherfucker, I don’t see the charm.”

“Don’t talk about him like that. He’s brash, sure, but he helps people. He saves people. He’s got a big heart–Professor Broom gave that to him.”

Flambae grumbled a bit, but didn’t otherwise argue. He walked over and nudged Liz’s shoulder, glancing up and down at her.

“To each their own; he ain’t my fucking type.”

“I’m more surprised he hasn’t accused you of flirting with me.”

“Me? Really?” Flambae laughed. “Lizzie, lemme put it to you this way; when people say I’m in the closet, I deny it only because I skipped the closet and went right for the clubs. You aren’t anywhere near my radar.”

Liz blinked. “. . . Oh.”

Flambae snorted; hidden away from sight, a demon finally realized that maybe Flambae wasn’t a “threat” to him after all.

Myers was struggling with the sight in front of him on the office floor.

Phenomaman was speaking with Manning about working at the S.D.N, and the young agent could tell that Manning was more so disturbed by Phenomaman’s lack of social tact.

“I do not mean offense; I simply do not understand why they would put someone of an age where cancer is a serious risk in charge of the department,” Phenomaman said, tilting his head.

Manning just stared at him. “I could ask the same about why they would hire someone completely incapable of social skills.”

“Who would that be?” Phenomaman genuinely asked, confused. Manning once again just stared at him, shaking his head.

“I’m starting to see why Blazer dumped you.”

Phenomaman promptly drooped, gaze lowering along with his head. Myers winced a bit, already sensing something brewing.

“Oi, that was a bit of a deep cut, lad,” Punch Up called out, waddling by. “Bit unnecessary.”

“The elf speaks up again,” Manning grumbled, throwing a hand up. “Don’t you have work to do?”

“Lunch break, you old croon,” Punch Up replied, grinning slightly. “So be sure to take your blood pressure medicine!”

Punch Up laughed as he walked off, especially when Manning looked shocked at his audacity. Myers, meanwhile, noticed Phenomaman hovering away. He decided to follow the superhero–only to bump into Hellboy as the demon came out of the stairwell that led to the gym.

“Red?” Myers blinked. “What are you doing?”

“I could ask the same about you, kid. Y’spyin’ on P-Man now?” Hellboy hummed, smirking.

“No! No, he just…I dunno, looks sad. Kinda hope I can help.”

“Go get Bob then, boy scout. I’ll talk to Phenoma-whatever in the meantime,” Hellboy said, nudging Myers a bit roughly as he walked by. He continued onward, finding Lime outside of the records room.

“Seen P-Man anywhere, Lime?” Hellboy asked, pulling out a cigar.

“He’s inside the records room. Watching videos of him and Blazer; reminds me of you and Liz, Red.”

Hellboy paused, deciding to put the cigar away. “. . . I’ll let that one slide.”

As Lime snickered, Hellboy entered the records room. Sure enough, he saw Phenomaman huddled by one of the monitors–watching news footage of him and Blonde Blazer saving a school bus of children from Red Ring members. He was hunched slightly, eyes full of sadness as he replayed the footage every time it ended.

Hellboy approached, placing his normal hand into his coat pocket. He watched the footage himself for a moment before speaking.

“Reminiscin’ on ol’ times, eh, P-Man?” he asked, tone light for now.

“Oh, hello, demon-friend,” Phenomaman solemnly said, facing him. “Director Manning’s reminder of Blonde Blazer’s disappointment in me did…not feel good.”

“Yeah, for a guy who cares about optics, Tom sure is kinda full-a crap himself, huh?”

“If he is constipated, he should seek medical assistance.”

Hellboy deadpanned. “It’s a figure of speech, P-Man.”

“Oh. I see.”

Both of them looked over when Robert entered the records room. He looked between them both as he walked over, before he too also looked at the footage on the monitor.

“You doing alright, Phenomaman? Myers told me you and Hellboy were in here.”

“Hello, third Robert Robertson. I was explaining to Hellboy here how Director Manning bringing up Blonde Blazer’s disappointment did not feel well.”

“. . . Yeah, that sounds kinda dick-ish of him. Don’t feel bad, some guys are just dicks.”

“I have yet to meet a human who is shaped like a male’s genital structure.”

“No, Phenomaman–” Robert groaned, rubbing his face. “Figure of speech, bro.”

“I just told him that about a different one,” Hellboy snorted.

Phenomaman glanced back at the footage; longing in his eyes. “. . . She and I never had intercourse, you know. My alien genitals were not compatible with her own.”

“That’s…unfortunate but we really didn’t need to know that, Phenomaman,” Robert said. 

Phenomaman then looked at Hellboy. “What about you and Elizabeth Sherman? It is obvious something is going on there. Are your bodies perhaps more compatible–”

“Woah–Hey hey HEY!” Hellboy interrupted. “We ain’t here to talk about my–how are you able to tell Liz and I got a thing going on?”

“I apologize. Perhaps I see myself in you when it comes to her,” Phenomaman explained. “I just…I do not see why Blonde Blazer would leave me.”

“Because she wanted to, Phenomaman,” Robert said. “She’s her own person, she can make her own choices. And sometimes, that hurts. But she’s happier now.”

“I always wanted to make her happy,” Phenomaman argued.

“And I believe you, but don’t you think she’d also be happy if she sees you heal and move on?” Robert rebutted. 

Phenomaman was silent for a moment. “You bring up a valid point, Robert. I understand now.”

He stood up and began to leave the records room. He faced Robert and Hellboy, putting on a determined look despite the sadness in his eyes.

“I will strive to do better. For the team and for S.D.N. Thank you both.”

Hellboy snorted as Phenomaman finally left the room. “He’s strange but he’s got spirit, I guess.”

“. . . So,” Robert began. “You and Liz, huh–”

“Don’t.”

Robert chuckled.

A few minutes later, as he and Hellboy walked down the hall, they noticed Beef scratching at the door leading into the janitor’s closet.

“See? Dumb dog,” Hellboy grumbled. Robert rolled his eyes and walked over to the door, opening it up; finding Waterboy sitting alone, eating a piece of melon.

Robert hummed at Hellboy. “Still think Beef’s dumb?”

Hellboy frowned but kept quiet for once. Robert deposited Beef in Waterboy’s arms before flipping a bucket upside down to sit next to Waterboy. Hellboy chose to remain standing by the door as he looked in.

“Somethin’ the matter, squirt? You should be celebratin’, you took down three Sammaels,” Hellboy said

“The Z-Tea–they–the others make fun of me,” Waterboy explained, petting Beef as he frowned. “Even–even now as I-I-I do good they still…still see me as weak.”

“They will for a while, Waterboy,” Robert jutted in. “They saw me as the constant butt of their jokes for ages even after Red showed up. They still make fun of me occasionally.”

“Don’t get started on what me and Matchstick get up to,” Hellboy added, chuckling.

“But they–they–the Z-Team even makes fun of my–my–my stutter!”

“I don’t think it’s a true stutter,” Robert argued.

“Wha–it’s–it’s happening literally now–right now–currently!”

“I think it’s a confidence issue, Waterboy,” Robert elaborated, patting his shoulder. “You second guess yourself so much you’re afraid to say the wrong thing.”

“Yeah, kid, you gotta be confident. Like me,” Hellboy hummed, gesturing to himself.

“Don’t listen to him, that’s arrogance, not confidence.”

“Go to hell, Bob.”

“I’m already there, that’s why I have to work with you.”

Robert smirked as Hellboy let out a surprised but genuine laugh.

Waterboy, meanwhile, let a tiny, tiny smile escape as he continued petting Beef; his mind focusing on Robert’s words and Hellboy’s encouragement.

Invisigal lit a cigarette as she left the S.D.N building for the night. She hadn’t spoken to Bruttenholm or even Robert about the truth, not yet. As much as she wanted to–and planned on it–she had a hunch she was being watched. So she had to play smart. Act like Rasputin’s words made her finally start working for Shroud properly.

In reality, though? She was going to hype Robert and Hellboy up so much that the Red Ring and Rasputin’s gang would get their asses beat. Mecha Man and Hellboy working together had her feeling hope for the first time in a while.

For now, though, she just left for her apartment, smoking her cigarette as she went. She’d keep playing the part.

It was a good thing she did; because on a rooftop, the Augmented Sammael watched her leave, squealing as it then looked up towards the S.D.N office. Its gaze narrowed for a moment, before it soared up into the skies with its mechanical wings.

It too was playing a part.

Chapter Text

“Shroud, bro, when the fuck are we going to actually do anything?” Toxic asked, in his more normal appearance as he leaned against a railing. Bored out of his mind.

Meanwhile, Shroud had his hands behind his back as he overlooked production of augments within the Steel Works. He glanced over his shoulder at Toxic, silent for a long moment, before he properly faced the villain.

“Elaborate on what you mean,” he stated.

“We’ve done a lot for that Russian guy,” Toxic began, frowning. “But what’ve we gotten in return? Jack shit! I thought you still wanted the Astral Pulse?”

“I do. But you’re lacking a key piece of information that I have; Rasputin’s plan has a likelihood of succeeding whether we help or not, and I’d rather be on the side of the man with cosmic gods behind him than not.”

Toxic went quiet, muttering to himself. Satisfied with the silence, Shroud walked down the stairs leading onto the main floor of the Steel Works. As he paced around, he gazed once more at the augment production line, nodding his head. He then looked forward, spotting Armstrong struggling to carry a bulky obelisk inside even with his mechanical arms.

“Fuck, man!” he yelled. “This thing’s fucking heavy over here!”

Armstrong then stumbled back as the Augmented Sammael marched over and easily lifted the obelisk over its head. It hissed down at Armstrong before walking over closer to Shroud, where it then put the obelisk down. It squealed, taking a step away when Shroud approached.

Raising a hand, Shroud pressed his palm against the white marble of the obelisk, analyzing every detail of it. He only slightly glanced over his shoulder when Rasputin stepped out of the shadows.

“What a sight, Mr. Connors. The lock to our new Eden,” he said cooly.

“And the ‘beast’ is the key, I assume?” Shroud asked, facing Rasputin properly. He folded his hands behind his back.

“Very good, Mr. Connors. You are indeed quite perceptive,” Rasputin praised, circling the obelisk now as he gazed upon it. “The child is, in fact, the key. Notice the holes in the monolith’s marble walls.”

Shroud looked back, noticing two decently large holes in the surface of the obelisk. He then glanced at Rasputin once more, keeping quiet; expecting an explanation.

“These,” Rasputin began, placing his hand on the edge of one hole. “These are the locks themselves. The child’s stone hand was specifically designed to unlock them. To free the Ogdru-Jahad. To rebirth the world–or in this case, the worlds.”

“And how close are we to this?” Shroud inquired, though his tone was slightly chipped.

Rasputin did not react to Shroud’s tone. “I would say it is upon us, soon. But there is still much to learn about this Z-Team…and we have you an Astral Pulse to find, do we not?”

“Correct,” Shroud nodded, straightening up. “Your part of the bargain, after all.”

“Do not fret, Mr. Connors,” Rasputin said, walking by Shroud; placing a palm on Shroud’s shoulder. “Ilsa and Kroenen are assisting your men in the search as we speak–and that’s not counting our Hound.”

Shroud glanced aside as the Augmented Sammael promptly squealed. It drooled on the floor, its head tilting as Shroud gazed upon it.

He didn’t like the way it was looking at him.

As Myers assisted Clay with bringing some of the B.P.R.D’s records into the S.D.N office, the two were met with Royd waiting for them by the elevator.

“Ay, Big Man!” Royd called out to Myers, grinning. “You da liaison for Red, yeah? Heard lot about you.”

“Oh, God, what did Red say?” Myers asked, groaning. Clay snickered from beside him.

“Nah, nah, heard from da Professor. Said you were a good kid!” Royd said, grinning again as he took a box of records from Myers. He held the box under one arm as he glanced back at the two agents, entering the elevator–his other arm held it open for Myers and Clay to enter.

“Me personally, I’m glad not all of you act like the Z-Team,” Clay grumbled, fixing his coat.

“Oh, fo’ sho, fo’ sho,” Royd hummed, nodding. “Da Z-Team isn’t exactly pleasant. I can tell dat Director of yours get all jam up when around dem.”

“That’s one way of putting it,” Clay snorted. As the elevator came to the main office floor, he let Royd and Myers step out first before he followed them. Galen waved over at the group, specifically Myers, which made Myers walk over to him.

“Something wrong, Mr…uh?” Myers asked, snapping his fingers.

“Just Galen, Agent Myers,” Galen said, not at all offended.

“Galen! Right, right, sorry. Something the matter?”

“No, but I overheard Professor Broom saying he wanted you to check in on Red and the others when you can.”

“Me? Why?”

“Something about you ‘needing the experience.’ I don’t pity you, man.”

Galen chuckled, turning back to his dispatching work. Myers rubbed his face, sighing as he glanced around the office–spotting Hellboy and Sonar talking in the boardroom. He mustered up his mental courage before walking towards the boardroom.

Inside, Hellboy snorted as Sonar kept speaking to him.

“I’m telling you, Red,” the bat-man began. “It’s not a scam. ScreechCoin is going to explode once it hits the market, just watch.”

“Batty, I’ve heard more convincin’ arguments from a banshee, and all they do is scream.”

“C’mon, Red! Just give it a shot! You’re funded by the B.P.R.D anyway, it’s not like it’s ‘your’ money!”

“Oh, please,” Hellboy snorted. “The last thing I need is Manning bein’ up my ass about ‘improper spendin’.’”

Malevola cackled from across the room as she sat by Prism, chiming in. “Sonar, babes, I told you he wouldn’t be an easy cookie to budge.”

“Bitch, he’s more stubborn than some of my haters; I almost respect it,” Prism hummed. She glanced down at her phone, scrolling through her feed–across from her, Coupé sharpened one of her knives with a raised brow.

“Why are we all here again? I thought our shift started?” she asked. 

Punch Up appeared next to her, having to hop up into his seat as he snorted. “Meetin’ with Robert! Somethin’ about movin’ forward with our new teammates.”

As if on cue, Phenomaman floated in with Waterboy close behind him–the alien kept quiet, while Waterboy nervously waved at everyone. Golem, sitting on the floor, was the only one to reciprocate it. Invisigal sat by Flambae, both of them quiet for once.

Soon after, Myers entered alongside Robert–earning a snort from Hellboy as he faced the two.

“What’re ya doin’ here, John? Sneakin’ around?” he asked coyly.

“Your father’s orders, Red.”

Hellboy promptly went silent. Robert took a spot at the head of the table, placing his palms on the wood as he glanced across the Z-Team.

“Alright, everyone, listen up!” he called out. “This meeting will be short. Right now, with Professor Broom and Director Manning having their agents focus on investigating any Red Ring connections or where this augmented Sammael may be, you all have to focus on actual field work today. That means answering calls, doing your best, and not fucking around.”

“Jesus, Bob-Bob, we’re not newbies, not like those two. We know what the fuck we’re doing,” Flambae grumbled, glaring at Invisigal when she snorted.

“Be that as that may be, I hesitate to call you all mature…especially with Red here,” Robert quipped, resisting the urge to smirk when Hellboy scoffed.

“So business is going as usual? Why the meeting then?” Golem asked.

“Because Red will be joining you on some calls and Myers will be helping me dispatch you.”

“I’m sorry?” Myers spoke up, stepping forward. “I, uh…I wasn’t told about this.”

“What?” Robert raised a brow. “The professor told me you’d be informed.”

Hellboy lit a cigar, shrugging. “Oh yeah, sorry, John. Forgot to tell ya. Welcome to the team.”

Robert facepalmed while Myers nervously gulped.

Mandy idly fiddled with her amulet while she watched Chase, Clay, Quarry, Moss, and Lime go through the B.P.R.D records that had been deposited in the records room. Her mind was a bit cluttered with all of the stress she felt from the current situation; cultists, Shroud, and monsters–oh my. Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, she briefly listened in on Chase speaking to the agents.

“What the fuck is this ugly lil’ piece of shit?” Chase asked, holding a photograph up to Quarry. Quarry took it and gave it a quick glance before looking back at Chase as he handed it over.

“It’s a troll, Chase. Magical creature.”

“Mmm. And I thought that Golem fucker was ugly.”

“Believe me, we wish most of what we study were like him,” Moss said, looking up from a report he was reading. “I’d take sentient but relaxed mud over Sammael any day of the week.”

“Add me to that list,” Clay added, glancing at Mandy. “I’m actually a little jealous that Myers is Red’s liaison now. Means he gets the easy work.”

“I know you guys have spent more time with Hellboy than I have, but even I’d hesitate to call that easy,” Mandy muttered, her lip twitching when the agents chuckled amongst themselves. It was just her luck that Manning and Bruttenholm entered at that precise moment.

“Hey, hey, we don’t pay you to sit around and laugh, get these records finalized!” Manning barked, arms raising up for a moment. He glanced around, shaking his head as he took in the sight.

“Don’t worry, sir,” Lime chimed in. “When we’re done transferring all the necessary files, we can get back to work trying to pinpoint down Rasputin and Shroud.”

“That should be our number one priority, not this weird merger crap!”

“Relax, Tom,” Bruttenholm said, stepping forward. “I understand your concern but it will be helpful if the S.D.N has the same amount of information as we do. It is entirely possible that Rasputin will make use of other paranormal entities in his mission.”

Chase hummed, but stayed quiet; giving Mandy a nod as he left the records room. Manning shook his head again, glancing at Mandy.

“You don’t have people to process this for us on your end? So we can focus on the bigger issue here?”

“Director Manning, we’re the bottom of the barrel when it comes to S.D.N branches,” Mandy explained, sighing. “We’re barely even given proper funding, let alone a full records staff.”

Manning glanced at Bruttenholm. “And you think these bozos will help us with Rasputin? There’s a difference between optimism and naivety, Trevor.”

Mandy clenched her fists, her hands shaking, but she didn’t say anything. Clay noticed, but also kept quiet himself. Bruttenholm huffed, shaking his head.

“Tom, please. We are all on the same side. There’s no need to be so hostile.”

“Tell me that when Miss Blazer’s freakshow tears up another building.”

Mandy’s eye twitched, but she chose to storm out of the room instead of commenting. Manning looked genuinely confused as he watched her go.

“The hell is her problem?” he muttered, palm raising.

Bruttenholm and the agents shared a glance.

“L-Look, lady, I swear, we have no idea what the hell you’re talking about!” a crook stammered, held up in the air by his collar by the Augmented Sammael’s paw. The Hound would normally just devour the man, but Ilsa had wanted to interrogate him.

She, the beast, Kroenen, and some Red Ring members stood in a hideout used by a small gang within Torrance–the crook was its ringleader, and currently his men were shitting themselves as they huddled by the corner. Kroenen stared at them all, scraping his blades together as he wheezed through his mask.

“You are telling me you have no idea where the ‘Astral Pulse’ is despite having bragged about looking for it first?” Ilsa asked, tone full of incredulity.

“I-I was just breaking balls! I didn’t know Shroud would send a fucking zoo after me!” the ringleader cried out, shaking as the Augmented Sammael leaned in to sniff him. He whimpered when the Hound squealed in his face.

“Unacceptable. Very unacceptable,” Ilsa grumbled, shaking her head. She stalked closer to the huddled up gang members, folding her arms across her chest. “What about all you, ja? Nothing to say?”

She frowned when they answered with various murmurs of denial and shaking heads. She snapped her fingers at Kroenen. In a blur, the assassin moved.

He ran forward and slashed the gang members across their necks, flourishing his wristblades as they all fell behind him–bleeding out in seconds.

“Hey–hey–what the fuck!” the ringleader screamed. “We told you the truth! You said–”

“I changed my mind,” Ilsa hummed, walking past the Augmented Sammael. “Even with your honesty, you and your cronies are a liability–we can’t have you running off to the S.D.N because we ‘scared’ you, now can we? Sam; deal with him.”

The Augmented Sammael squealed, lifting the ringleader up. The man could barely scream before he was repeatedly slammed against the floor; bones cracking and snapping as the Hound practically mangled him into a human-cube before tossing the body aside. It squealed, walking over to the pile of gang members–tearing off a leg from one, munching on it like a piece of chicken as it then followed after Ilsa, blood staining its jaws.

Kroenen seemed completely unbothered, flicking his coat back as he walked after the Augmented Sammael and Ilsa, still wheezing through his mask.

The Red Ring members present–gawking from the sudden violence–stared amongst each other. They only started moving, quickly at that, when Kroenen glanced back at them for a moment. However, mentally, they all agreed on one thing.

Their boss was way in over his head with these…things.

Chapter Text

Hellboy, standing outside in the S.D.N office’s parking lot, took a puff of his cigar as he stood by Malevola. Glancing aside at her, he noticed her humming a tune to herself as they stood. After listening for a moment, he grunted to get her attention.

“Whatcha hummin’, lady?” he asked, pointing at her with his cigar.

“Oh, a song from a band I like; Phoenix. You should check ‘em out.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Hellboy replied, puffing his cigar. “Why’re we out here again?”

“Bah, waitin’ on Sonar,” Malevola snorted, waving her hand. “He should be back out any minute now.”

As if on cue, Sonar appeared from the bushes, adjusting his pants. He hummed as well–the same tune as Malevola, Hellboy noted–as he approached them. Fixing his tie, he smirked at the two as his bat ears twitched.

“Alright, ready for shift,” he said, smirk growing.

Hellboy raised a brow. “What did you have to go into the bushes for?”

“Classified Harvard Graduate business, Red,” Sonar replied, sticking a finger up. “You’d need a really big IQ to understand the methods of my madness.”

“You callin’ me dumb, Batty?”

Sonar snickered, shaking his head. “Nah, just pointing out my own genius. Malevola can vouch for me.”

“‘Vouch’ is a strong word for it, babes,” Malevola said, chuckling as she wrapped an arm around Sonar. Her tail swayed for a moment as she patted his shoulder. Hellboy glanced between them for just a moment.

“So what’s this all about, eh? Friends with benefits?” he asked, flicking cigar ash away.

“Nope, just friends,” Malevola answered, smirking slightly. “Bein’ this nerd’s NA sponsor eventually got us close though. We’re roommates too.”

“You offered your bosom as a pillow to him when he wasn’t cut from the Z-Team.”

“Cocaine is not my only addiction, Red,” Sonar cooly said. “One step at a time, baby. One step at a time.”

Hellboy chuckled, placing a finger up against his comm unit. “Hey, Bobby, John–when are we gonna actually get some calls goin’?”

“When people call in, Red–that’s why they’re called ‘calls,’” Robert replied, tone like he was speaking to a child.

“I’m also still getting used to this whole ‘dispatching’ thing. At least for the headset,” Myers chimed in, voice hopeful.

“Babes, you’re speakin’ to the whole branch, not just us,” Malevola informed him, her finger on her own unit now.

“. . . Oh.”

“Yeah, Doe-Eyes; learn to use your fucking brain or something, yeah? Dumb little bitch,” Flambae chirped from his end of the line.

“You need better insult game, Matchstick, you’re borin’ when you use the same ones,” Hellboy spoke into his unit, smirking when he heard Flambae grumble.

“I, uh, I think I’m getting the hang of it now!” Myers called out, though he sounded far less sure of himself than his words implied.

“Yay, confidence from the newbie agent,” Invisigal added from her end. “Trying to get a girl all wet, Myers? Hot date night tonight or something?”

“Excuse me?” he gawked, causing chuckles from across the comm line. Hellboy could already imagine Myers’ sputtering face in his head. It brought him a lot of joy. He might slowly be starting to actually like the “kid,” but Red was Red; he liked a little mischief every now and then.

“Alright, heads up, we’re getting a call about a lady needing her cat freed from a tree,” Robert spoke up. “There’ll be people recording, so we need someone to make us look good; Phenomaman, you up? Could be a chance to help your confidence.”

“I will do my best, third Robert Robertson,” Phenomaman replied–the others able to hear the wind whipping in his comm unit when he took off into the skies. Hellboy rolled his eyes for a moment, pressing a finger to his unit again.

“When are we gettin’ sent out, huh? Losin’ my mind to boredom out here,” he grumbled.

“Again, Red,” Robert began, the tone returning. “When we get a call that fits you.”

Hellboy’s eye twitched.

In the office itself, Robert and Myers had managed to make a setup that would work for the time being. Another terminal was set up near Robert’s cubicle, where Myers sat. It wasn’t the same as Robert’s–it lacked the ability to hack into systems and had very, very rudimentary camera controls compared to Robert’s–but it would be enough to get the job done.

Myers found it a little amusing that Hellboy’s icon on the terminal was his mugshot from when the police in Torrance first found him.

He glanced aside to Robert when he noticed the other man pushing his headset mic up so he could speak to Myers directly. Myers promptly did the same, now facing Robert.

“How are you liking your new job, Myers?” Robert asked, slightly amused.

“We…haven’t really done anything,” Myers replied, blinking.

“Fair ‘nuff. It’s been a pretty damn slow day. Lucky you. But if the time comes, I need you to focus and use your head, and not succumb to the pressure–can I count on you?”

Myers nodded, meeting Robert’s gaze head on. “You can, Rob. Any time.”

Robert nodded himself, satisfied. He and Myers both looked over as Chase walked around from the corner of the cubicle. Beef was lazily lounging in the former superhero’s arms–spoiled with belly rubs.

“You ain’t doing bad, kid, and besides, you have to deal with Hellboy’s bitch ass all the time,” Chase chuckled, glancing down at Beef with a smile. “You’ll be fine.”

He then offered Beef to Myers. Myers didn’t take the dog, but he did supply some belly rubs himself, relaxing as he did.

“See?” Chase hummed, looking at Robert. “Always works. Beef’s a good boy.”

“The best boy,” Robert corrected with a chuckle. He perked up slightly as he noticed a notification appear on Myers’ terminal. Instead of calling it out, he gave Myers a small nudge–the B.P.R.D agent was perceptive enough to notice, immediately putting his headset mic back on.

“Hey! Hey! We–uhm–we got a call here!” Myers called out to the team. “Witness claims they saw someone in a ‘gas mask’ stalking near an abandoned shop–might be Kroenen! Forwarding the address now; we should have–”

“I’ll handle it,” Coupé replied, tone clipped. “He’s mine.”

Myers blinked. “But what if–”

“I’ll. Handle. It,” she reiterated. Myers deflated, slouching in his chair.

“Alright, alright,” he conceded. He then rubbed his face, shaking his head as he did. “I swear, still a wacko.”

“Lad, you’re still on the line,” Punch Up snorted, the grin audible in his voice. “Ye gotta get better about that.”

Myers paled, before burying his face in his hands as he heard the Z-Team chuckle, minus Phenomaman and Waterboy–though, a part of him did notice even Coupé was among those chuckling instead of being offended. At least he didn’t have to worry about a knife slitting his throat as he slept tonight.

Robert shook his head with a small smile. He looked aside as Mandy approached with a file in hand, her posture stiff.

“Blazer, thanks for getting me that–” Robert said, only pausing when Mandy practically slammed the file onto his desk, storming off to her office. He blinked, watching her leave. Myers and Chase looked equally surprised.

“The hell was that about?” Chase asked, adjusting his hold on Beef. “You in the doghouse, Robbie?”

“I…don’t know.”

Chase grumbled. “Last I saw her, she was speaking with Manning and Broom when I left the records room. And I have a hunch the former’s the one that put her in this mood.”

Robert frowned, thinking to himself a bit before he faced Myers. “Mind taking over for a bit while I go check on Blazer?”

“Not at all,” Myers said, nodding. “Go ahead, Rob.”

Robert gave him a nod in thanks as well before standing up. He walked over to Mandy’s office, knocking on the door. When he heard a muffled “come in,” he opened the door, entered, and closed the door. He saw Mandy working on paperwork, expressionless. A far cry from her usual self.

He glanced around, making sure the blinds of her office windows were closed before facing her again. “Are you…feeling alright?”

“I’m fine, Robert. Get back to work.”

“You don’t sound fine,” he countered, frowning. “Are you free to talk? Actually, can Galen hear us through–”

“No, the walls are soundproof,” Mandy interrupted, looking up at him with a huff–the frustration starting to turn somber. “Is it…that obvious I’m in a mood?”

“You slammed a file on my desk and walked away without saying anything. Very unusual for you.”

Mandy rubbed her face, slouching in her seat. Robert’s expression softened as he noticed her trembling. He approached her desk, guiding her to stand up. She struggled to even look at him. It only concerned him even more.

“Mandy?” he whispered. “Talk to me, what’s wrong?”

“It’s just…Professor Broom’s been so supportive but then Director Manning’s been nothing but critical. That and…and other issues have been getting to me, I guess,” she admitted, voice soft.

Robert rubbed her back slightly, gaze averting. “Do you mean Rasputin? Sammael? Shroud?”

She hesitated. “. . . No.”

Raising a brow, Robert looked at her. Mandy stepped away from him, beginning to fumble with her gem. It was a bit awkward given how it was encased into her suit, but once it was freed, she turned back to her brunette self; the suit now looking slightly too big for her. She brushed her hair back, briefly staring at a brown lock with what Robert swore was scorn.

“It’s me,” she hissed, eyes watering. “I…I’m not enough for this! All that’s needed is Blazer! Blazer, Blazer, Blazer! I feel so…so useless when this mask is off!”

She was immensely distraught, furiously rubbing her eyes. Her breath hitched when Robert simply hugged her. It wasn’t quick, it was just a soft, slow hug. She found herself relaxing in his arms, her own raising to latch onto him as well.

For a moment, all was silent.

“I relate,” he said, quiet. “Remember how I was when the Mecha Man suit was first destroyed? A bum. Felt my only purpose was ruined. But if my time here has taught me anything, it’s that there’s more to me–to us–than the suit.”

He pulled back, forcing her to look at him by cupping her cheek. “Mandy, please. You’re not useless. I told you this on our little dinner date; the woman Torrance knows is Mandy, just with a filter. You are the same, wonderful woman whether you’re Blonde Blazer or not.”

“But,” Mandy began, meeting his gaze. “All people want is Blazer. I…I want to settle some day, Robert.”

“And that’s okay,” he stressed. “It doesn’t make you any lesser, Mandy. You’re still probably the strongest woman I’ve ever met–and I don’t mean ‘physically’ because of that gem. Do you get me?”

Mandy nodded, a small smile on her face as she glanced down. “I do, I do,” she started, before her eyes met his own again; full of mischief. “Under one condition.”

“That being?”

“If I have to start expressing self-love, you have to start expressing self love.”

Robert blinked as now Mandy was the one cupping his cheek. She smiled softly, her thumb stroking the skin of his cheek. He found himself wanting to melt into her touch, a rare moment of peace for him.

“I didn’t forget what I told you on that billboard; I’m not done saving you. I just didn’t expect you to save me too,” she whispered, smile growing as she heard him chuckle. She tugged him down until their foreheads bumped together, both of their eyes closing. For a little while, they just basked in the moment.

When they finally separated, Mandy fixed the gem until she was back in her Blazer form. Robert still had a small smile on his face.

“You know,” he said. “We really should plan a second date. Maybe it’ll help?”

“That’s actually not a bad idea,” she hummed, smiling at him. “Got a place in mind?”

“Could do something like an Applebee’s or a Chili’s?” Robert offered. “I know it’s a chain restaurant and all, but…I figured you’d maybe want something as ‘normal’ as possible for our second date. Proof that I’m dating Mandy, not ‘Blazer.’”

Mandy rolled her eyes, but her smile grew. “Deal. Friday after work?”

“Sounds good to me,” Robert replied. Mandy stepped forward, giving him a kiss on the cheek; her eyes soft.

Robert felt his heart flutter.

Coupé landed gracefully outside of the abandoned storefront that she had dispatched herself to, glaring at the building. It was in a bad part of downtown, blending in with its surroundings. But if the caller was correct, Kroenen was waiting for her inside. Shrugging her shoulders, she entered the decaying entrance.

Immediately, she grumbled as she took in the surroundings. Moldy walls, overturned shelves–a convenience store lost to decay. She folded her arms over her chest, pausing as she looked straight ahead.

Sitting on an old freezer as if it was a chair was Kroenen, staring right at her. He tilted his head as he wheezed, seemingly confused at her presence over any other.

Coupé glared right at him as she took one of her knives out of her wings, pointing the tip towards him.

“You,” she hissed. “You owe me. Back at that sewer, you landed a cut. I’m here to return the favor.”

She glared harder when Kroenen laughed at her. He stood up, fixing his leather coat before holding his hands out to the side–his wristblades appearing from beneath his sleeves now. For an anxious few seconds that felt like hours, he and Coupé stared each other down in a standoff, neither making a move.

Until, both at once, they became blurs.

Knife and wristblade clashed with a soft clang, before the two separated. Coupé spun, trying to slice him with the knives on her wings, but Kroenen instead jumped back. As she marched forward, Kroenen stepped back; parrying her attempted stabs along the way.

Eventually, Kroenen was against a wall. He moved his head aside to dodge a strike, twisting his way to the side to free himself; likewise weaving away from another slash of her wings. He parried another strike before landing a kick straight to her stomach.

Coupé flew back a bit, catching herself on her feet as she hunched over, hissing. She glared when Kroenen let out a raspy chuckle. He paced in front of her, flexing his forearms–his masked gaze never leaving her.

Coupé then lunged, going on the offensive. Kroenen and her exchanged a few strikes, before she surprised him by spinning around on her foot like a ballerina. Her wings hit him in the mask; not cutting the material, but still throwing him aside.

Kroenen rolled to his feet as Coupé was upon him. He weaved a slash, instead running past her–managing to slash her across her side as he did. She gasped, clutching the wound; thankfully barely skin deep.

Now, she was on the defensive as Kroenen marched forward, holding one hand on her wound as she used the knife in her other hand to parry him–finding it increasingly hard as Kroenen’s augment allowed him to slowly ramp up his speed.

Eventually she used her wings to lunge back on top of a shelf. Kroenen jumped after her, landing on top–only for her wing to smack him across the store. He crashed onto the cashier’s countertop, rolling off of it onto the ground with a groan.

Coupé glared with a wince, adjusting her hold on both her wound and the knife. She paused when Kroenen chuckled again as he sat up, glancing behind her. Coupé tried to look over her shoulder to see what he was looking at.

But it was too late.

Sammael had snuck up on her from the ceiling, lunging upon her back. She was thrown off of the shelf and onto the ground face first. Lucky for her, the Hound bit down onto her wing instead of flesh, thrashing her around like a bear as it squealed and drooled. The thrashing made her lose her grip on her knife, and she was unable to grab a new one as Sammael kept thrashing her around.

The beast then threw her across the store, making her slam into a separate shelf. She winced, landing on the floor on her side. Looking forward, she saw Kroenen rush for the exit from behind Sammael. He gave her a small wave before he was out of the door.

Coupé stood up on shaky legs, glaring as Sammael knuckle-walked towards her. A part of her was grateful it seemed to be a normal Sammael instead of the augmented one. As it approached, she took a moment to grab a new knife from her wings; trying to come up with a plan.

The Hound then began to rush her, but luckily for Coupé, an expulsion of water hit the ground in front of it. It squealed as it slipped, allowing her to sidestep as it slammed into the shelf behind her instead of her body.

Taking a moment to put some distance between herself and Sammael, Coupé then looked up. Waterboy had arrived, rushing to stand by her side; visibly nervous, yet still willing to act.

“Miss, uh–Cooper! Miss Cooper! I-I decided to tail you just in case!” he called out, wincing with a nervous smile.

The berating he was expecting never came; Coupé merely grumbled and gestured to Sammael. The Hound stood up with a hiss, glaring at them both with its three eyes. It smashed the floor with a fist, letting out a hellish roar at them.

“Did you bring backup?” Coupé asked sarcastically.

“Y-Yes, actually!” Waterboy stammered with a proud smile. Coupé was confused until a loud BANG echoed–Sammael getting launched back with a pained squeal as a shot landed straight in its chest.

Hellboy marched into the store with a smoking Samaritan in his hand, grinning at his teammates.

“Didja miss me, Birdie?” he asked, grin growing.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Red,” Coupé huffed, yet seemed grateful. Her and Waterboy stiffened in anticipation as Sammael stood up, the wound on its chest closing up. Hellboy grumbled, holstering the Samaritan.

“I keep forgettin’ Sam’s a pain in the ass,” he huffed. “Squirt, disorient it. Birdie, pepper it with those blades–I’ll try to get an angle and just rip its dumb, chunk-face head off.”

“That sounds bru–bra–brutal,” Waterboy whispered.

“But enough to work,” Coupé hummed. “Just listen to him.”

Waterboy nodded, gargling as he then spewed a pillar of water at Sammael. It hit the Hound in the face, making the creature hiss and swat at the water as it stumbled. Coupé then dashed to the side, rapidly throwing knives at the beast. It howled as each blade sunk into its flesh, one of them managing to even land directly in its left eye.

It faced Coupé with a choked snarl, ready to try and lunge for her despite the hose of water–only for Hellboy to appear from behind it, grabbing it by the head.

“Open wide!” Hellboy yelled, starting to pull–hard. Sammael squealed and tried to fight it, but found its arms being slashed across the joints as it tried to contort and reach for Hellboy by Coupé. Worse yet, as it tried to get a good footing, Waterboy kept spewing water so the Hound kept slipping.

With a loud roar, Hellboy finally managed to rip Sammael’s head off, causing the beast’s body to fall to the floor. Hellboy then tossed the head aside, dusting his stone hand off as a green-orb-splitting-in-two appeared out of Sammael’s chest; a sight that made both him and Coupé grumble out of recognition.

Waterboy, meanwhile, offered a high five to both of them. Coupé ignored it, staring him right in the eyes. Hellboy at least gave him one.

A small victory.

Friday couldn’t come fast enough for Robert.

He and Mandy–who was in casual wear for once, a sight that Robert found quite cute actually–held hands as they approached a local Applebee’s. He was glad to be on another date with her; something about spending time with Mandy made Robert just feel warm after the constant struggles with the Mecha Man suit and Sammael.

Similarly, Mandy loved spending time with Robert. She knew Phenomaman hadn’t meant harm when expressing his desire to be with “Blonde Blazer” forever, but having someone see the true her and want the true her was so refreshing. She had been smiling all night.

As they took a seat at their table, the two couldn’t stop smiling. They had both chosen to walk, so they had no issues ordering some drinks since they weren’t driving. Nothing fancy, just some small cocktails.

Robert was looking forward to their conversations as the night went on.

. . . Until he looked past her shoulder and saw Hellboy at a different table with Liz. For a brief moment, he and Hellboy locked gazes; both of them managing to hide their surprise rather well. Noticing that neither Liz or Mandy seemed to have noticed the situation, Hellboy excused himself, heading for the bathroom–nodding subtly at Robert.

Similarly, Robert gave Mandy a compromising smile.

“Be back real quick, I gotta piss,” he said, standing up.

“Such a romantic way to say that, Robert,” Mandy giggled, but nodded. 

Robert chuckled back, but as he turned away from her, the smile faded while he marched to the men’s bathroom. His fists briefly clenched as he decided to reign in his frustration; he had a hunch it wasn’t malice on Hellboy’s part to be present, especially since Liz was also there.

Just his luck.

Chapter Text

As Robert entered the men’s bathroom with Hellboy, he quickly made sure no one else was eavesdropping by seeing if he could see any feet beneath the stall doors–an action that made Hellboy snort in bewildered amusement. The demon then straightened up as Robert approached.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Robert hissed, but the venom in his tone quickly died out; he was more exasperated than actually angry.

“Enjoyin’ a nice dinner with my girl; what about you, Bobby?” Hellboy hummed, grinning. “Got a hot date tonight too?”

“. . . That is for me alone to know, Red.”

“Oh, cut the crap. I saw the brunette–who is she, huh? Someone who can actually put up with that mouth of yours? Matter of fact, she looks a lot like Blondie.”

Hellboy then paused, thinking to himself for a moment before he locked eyes with Robert. “No foolin’...that is Blondie, ain’t it? Just without that fancy lil’ gem of hers.”

“What–” Robert gasped, shaking his head. “How the hell did you guess that?”

Hellboy deadpanned. “Rob, I’m a paranormal investigator. I’m basically a detective; it’s my job to pick up on details like that.”

“Well forgive me for never even considering that a possibility considering how you normally behave,” Robert grumbled.

Hellboy found that he couldn’t really argue with Robert’s point.

Robert paced for a moment, running his hand through his hair. “Alright, look; Blazer doesn’t want anyone knowing that she’s not, y’know, normally a muscular superheroine. So we just play it cool and try to act like we’re not even in the same building, okay?”

“You want us to basically ‘hide’ from one another on our dates?” Hellboy asked, eyebrow raising.

“It’s corny as shit, I know, but again; Blazer doesn’t want others knowing her actual identity yet.”

Hellboy hummed, snapping his fingers on his normal hand. “Got it, skipper.”

Robert let out a huff as he left the bathroom, followed by Hellboy. Hellboy took the long way back to his table with Liz, allowing Robert to appear back at his and Mandy’s table as if nothing was awry. He gave Mandy a smile as he sat down in front of her.

“I’m back–sorry if it felt like I took forever.”

“It’s fine, Robert,” she smiled, waving him off. “The night’s still young!”

Robert nodded, smiling back. “You’re right, you’re right; did our waiter come for our order yet?”

“No, not yet; what were you thinking? Any appetizers?”

“Probably just the mozzarella sticks,” Robert said, shrugging as he flicked through the menu. “I’m not too stressed about the food here, since it’s…y’know, a chain.”

“You chose a place where you don’t really care about the food for our date?” Mandy asked, hiding her smirk behind the rim of her drink as she sipped it.

“. . . Shit, that does sound bad. I meant I wasn’t feeling super picky.”

Mandy chuckled. Meanwhile at Hellboy and Liz’s table, Hellboy decided to use his larger frame to shield any possibility of Liz seeing Robert and Mandy across the restaurant. He looked through his menu; uninterested, but he was glad Liz at least seemed happy.

“See anythin’ ya like, Firestarter?” he asked, his tone far less quippy than it was with anyone else; even Bruttenholm. He perked up a bit when Liz glanced at him.

“Red, you know I’m not a huge fan of the nickname,” she huffed, but a small smile grew on her face. “But…I guess the cheese bites do look pretty good. Let me guess; you’re buying half the menu for yourself?”

“You know me well, Lizzie. Good thing Manning’s payin’,” Hellboy hummed, revealing a credit card with a smirk. Liz deadpanned.

“Did you steal that from him?”

“. . . I’ll plead the fifth.”

Liz giggled into her drink. Hellboy relaxed at the sound; he had missed it ever since Liz left the Bureau. It helped him deal with Manning’s bullshit more often than not, and he knew even his father had missed it too. He would never say it out loud, but he was glad this new world was making Liz feel “normal” at once; unbeknownst to Robert, the same reason the dispatcher had chosen a random Applebee’s for Mandy was the same reason Hellboy chose it for Liz.

Although, it did make Hellboy wish their home world was more welcoming of them.

Hellboy took a sip of his beer, glancing back when Liz wasn’t paying attention to see Robert’s progress with Mandy. Robert and her were talking, and when Mandy was distracted, Robert rapidly motioned for Hellboy to look away with a huff. Robert then smiled when Mandy faced him again. She brushed her hair out of her face, offering him a smile back.

“That’s the most I’ve seen you smile,” she said, snickering.

“What can I say, I’m finally feeling in a bit of a good mood,” he shrugged, lifting his drink up. “Cheers?”

“Cheers,” she confirmed, clanking their drinks together. She then sipped hers as they pulled their drinks away, setting it aside once she was done. For a moment she tapped her fingers against the table, before smiling again.

“Look, Robert, I…thank you,” she muttered. “It’s been a while since I felt like I could be myself without the you-know-what.”

Robert nodded, his own eyes lighting up. “You’re welcome, Mandy. You’ve been doing the same for me ever since I started as a dispatcher, only fair I return the favor.”

“Oh, God, don’t make it sound transactional,” she giggled. “I’ve had enough of the corporate stuff lately.”

“Force of habit,” Robert hummed, giving the waiter a nod when their appetizers were brought forward. “Looks good–any ideas on what you want?”

“I’m taking the three cheese chicken penne–always been a pasta fan, y’know. What about you?”

“Quesadilla Burger,” Robert said plainly. “Sounds good. Sounds weird also. Got morbidly curious.”

As Mandy hummed and nodded, Robert glanced aside; noticing Hellboy pointing to numerous items on the menu as he spoke to his own waiter. The poor waiter looked utterly bewildered and even a little afraid. Robert resisted the urge to facepalm.

Hellboy looked at Liz once the waiter scurried off with their order. He snickered as he saw Liz playfully shaking her head, gesturing for her to speak.

“You and your appetite,” she said, tone both tired and fond at the same time. “It hasn’t dimmed even slightly over the years, huh?”

“Father says I’m a growin’ boy, Liz,” Hellboy quipped, patting his chest. “Growin’ boys need a lot of food.”

“The only thing accurate about that is you being a ‘boy’ with that attitude,” Liz hummed back, sipping her drink. She let out a tiny smile when Hellboy snorted in response; she knew he could tell she was joking. He always knew how to read her–even when she had tried to get him to shoo and stop visiting her back at the mental institution, it was like he was able to tell she secretly liked his attention. Granted, that may have been coincidental; he was the most stubborn bastard she had ever met in her life.

Damn her heart for swooning over him.

“You know, Red,” she began, leaning forward. “Now that we’re actually having dates and stuff…you don’t have to act like Myers is going to ‘steal’ me from you. You can tone down the jealousy.”

“It’s not jealousy, it's bein’ protective,” Hellboy argued, but Liz was not convinced one bit. “Besides, don’t act like you aren’t a bit grumpy I work so much with that Z-Team and not you.”

Liz huffed, face slightly red. “That’s different, I don’t pout and do petty things like throw rocks at them. Besides, given how much you used to ‘visit’ me, I have a right to be curious why it changed.”

Hellboy waved her off. “It didn’t change, I just got busy. Were it up to me, we’d be havin’ date nights like these every day.”

“Ordering hundreds of dollars worth of food and beer in chain restaurants?” she snorted. “How romantic, Red.”

Despite her words, she still reached over to place her palm on top of his–something he gladly accepted. He hid his wagging tail by keeping it beneath his chair. It got hard to keep hiding when she began to rub her thumb over his palm.

After a moment of silence, Liz looked up at him. “You know, Red. I’ve been getting a lot better with my powers thanks to Flambae.”

“How ‘bout that, the Matchstick is good for somethin’ after all.”

Liz chuckled, softly swatting his arm. “I’m serious. I actually feel…like a person. Not a monster. Not some husk that needs to be heavily medicated. I feel real.”

“. . . Did I never make you feel real before?” he asked.

Liz faltered, frowning. “Of course you did, Red. I didn’t mean it like that. But I didn’t feel real to myself. You and the Bureau grounded me but…but I hated myself, Red. Now that I don’t anymore, it…it makes moments like these feel so much better.”

She smiled when Hellboy seemed to brighten up just a little bit. She rubbed his palm with her thumb again.

Back at Robert and Mandy’s table, Robert chuckled as he watched Mandy enjoy her appetizer. He found the sight almost cute in a way. He’d never imagine he’d see the Blonde Blazer acting like a simple chain restaurant dinner was something special. But he was glad she was finally relaxed for once. 

As he took a bite of his mozzarella stick, he leaned forward slightly. “Mmm…not to be bold, but what should our third date be?”

“Hold up, mister, what if I don’t like this second one?” Mandy playfully asked, smirking.

“Then my heart will shatter into a million pieces and it will sound just like the lego sound effects in those lego games.”

“Oh my god, of course you played those,” Mandy giggled, covering her mouth a bit.

“What? It’s not my fault they’re peak,” he shrugged. “I spent hours grinding for those minikits, you know.”

“Is that the only thing you spent hours grinding?” Mandy asked, smirking again.

Robert reared back a bit, snorting. “Hey now–I think Visi is actually rubbing off on you, that sounds like something she would say.”

“I’m sorry,” she snickered, rubbing her face. “That totally is–it’s nice just being in a place where I don’t have to worry about HR policing what I say.”

“. . . We have HR?” Robert asked, masking his smirk with a fake confused expression.

Mandy nodded, pointing at him with her drink. “That’s fair. Poor guys must be working overtime.”

“You know you still haven’t answered my question about a third date, right?”

“Play your cards right, Robert, and it may just be the best date ever,” she hummed, reaching over to gently tap his nose.

Robert smiled. “See, that’s how I know you’re having fun right now; you’re being very expressive and playful.”

“Am I now?” Mandy teased. “Here I thought I was being nice and moody just for you.”

They both chuckled, before smiling at each other. Robert took a sip of his drink, trying not to choke on it when he saw the piles upon piles of food being put onto Hellboy’s table. He had heard about the demon’s appetite, but seeing it in person was a lot more surprising than he had expected.

“Is something wrong, Robert?” Mandy asked, about to look over her shoulder. Robert quickly, yet gently, held onto her hand, getting her attention.

“Went down the wrong pipe,” he lied, smooth as butter. “Nearly hacked up a lung.”

“Oh, yeah, that sounds awful,” she winced, facing him once more. Robert took a hidden breath of relief, leaning back in his seat. At Hellboy’s table, the demon was making quick work of his mountain of food–conversely, Liz was taking her time with her humble plate.

“C’mon, Liz, I got way more food yet I’m almost done while you’re just pickin’,” he teased, picking his teeth with his fork.

Liz rolled her eyes fondly. “Because I’m not a barbarian, Red. I don’t shovel food like I’m a dumptruck.”

“Baby, you have no idea the number of calories this beautiful figure costs,” Hellboy quipped, gesturing to himself with his stone hand. “It takes work to look this good.”

“What about me then, huh?” Liz asked, rolling her eyes again.

“Nah–you’re born beautiful, it’s cheatin’.”

She paused a moment, before huffing at him with a smile. “Smooth. Yet even Abe acts like you’re a big dumb monkey.”

“I have my moments,” Hellboy said, offering a piece of steak from one of his many plates. Liz gently took the piece, flashing him another smile. Hellboy felt like he was at the top of his world right now. Glancing back while Liz ate, he saw Robert and Mandy getting their food next–both men shared a brief nod before turning back to their dates.

As the couples ate and exchanged conversation, both men tried to keep their women’s attention away from one another and instead on them. Sometimes it was Robert faking another instance of his drink going down the wrong pipe, other times it was Hellboy bluntly blocking view with his body.

Eventually, as the bills came and went–paid by both Hellboy and Robert, though Mandy did try to protest Robert paying at first–both men shared another nod and made excuses to go to the bathroom. Making sure no one would be eavesdropping again, Robert then faced Hellboy.

“Alright, I was thinking I’d lead Blazer out the door first since we’re more ‘typical'. More likely to fit in with the crowd of randos out there.”

“Makes sense. I can bunker down till you and her are gone,” Hellboy grunted. He then smirked. “Have a fun time, Bobby?”

“I did, actually,” Robert said, making Hellboy pause. “Did you, Red?”

“Oh, you have no idea. I guess we’re both lucky guys, huh?” Hellboy hummed, gently nudging Robert with his stone hand. Robert, for once, almost felt like he had a bond with Hellboy now. Nodding at one another, they both left the bathroom.

. . .

And were met with Mandy and Liz waiting for them, standing next to each other. Hellboy and Robert both paused like deer in headlights.

“. . . Aw, crap,” Hellboy muttered. He and Robert then looked confused when both Liz and Mandy began to giggle instead of looking mad.

“You two are oblivious,” Liz said, shaking her head fondly.

“You think we didn’t see each other the first time you both had to ‘go to the bathroom?’” Mandy smirked. “We spoke before you came out and decided to play dumb.”

Robert blinked, rubbing the back of his neck. “No shit, huh? Uhm…alright.”

“Although,” Mandy began, a slight bit of concern in her tone. “Why did you feel the need to hide it in the first place?”

“Were you both ashamed or something?” Liz asked, tone also clipped.

Robert immediately held up his hands. “No! I just…told Red that you didn’t want your identity being known and he’s a bit of a, y’know…blabbermouth?”

“I agreed with him,” Hellboy confirmed, nodding. “Wasn’t tryin’ to be rude, just tryin’ to give both of you a special time.”

Mandy relaxed, smiling. “I had a hunch it was that, but it’s nice to know for sure. But…honestly? I trust you to know the truth, Red. It was bound to come out eventually, and Liz now knows, so…”

She walked forward, holding out her hand. “Nice to meet you, Hellboy. I’m Mandy.”

“Mandy, huh?” Hellboy muttered, shaking her hand with his stone one. “Fits ya. I was goin’ to guess you were an ‘Amanda’ personally.”

Mandy chuckled, before moving to be by Robert’s side. Robert gently held her hand–relaxing when she reciprocated it. He then looked up at Hellboy.

“Well, now that that’s done…maybe we can have a nice walk together in town?” he offered.

“That sounds nice,” Liz answered, her hand finding Hellboy’s stone one. “Besides, we’ll get a chance to chat.”

Hellboy grumbled, but the smile he gave as he looked down at Liz said it all.

The two couples then left the restaurant, walking down the street in pairs as they chatted and laughed. Robert and Mandy held hands still, as did Hellboy and Liz. They didn’t feel like heroes or dispatchers or monsters against the world anymore. They felt…human. Normal. It was nice. Lovely even.

Neither of them spotted the Augmented Sammael sitting perched atop a rooftop like a gargoyle. It squealed as it watched them walk away, eyes narrowing. Rasputin appeared by its side, hands folded behind his back as his coat swayed with the wind.

He glanced down where the Augmented Sammael was looking–Mandy, walking hand-in-hand with Robert. Notably not blonde, nor blazing. Rasputin and the Augmented Sammael then looked at one another.

“An excellent find indeed, Sammael,” Rasputin praised, giving the Hound a pat on its head as it squealed.

His grin then slowly turned wicked.

Chapter Text

“He truly is a peculiar creature, Professor,” Abe hummed as he examined Beef. The dog was sitting in Bruttenholm’s lap as the older man and the Ichthyo Sapien stood off to the side on the office floor of the S.D.N building. Beef barked and tilted his head at Abe, tongue lolling out.

Bruttenholm chuckled, patting Beef on the head. “He’s a good boy. You should give him a pet, Abe.”

“Wet hands, I’m afraid,” Abe sighed, showing his palm. “I do not want to risk giving Robert’s pet an accidental bath.”

“Nonsense,” Bruttenholm grumbled. He then leaned up slightly. “Mr. Robertson?”

Robert’s head poked up from over his cubicle, and he peeled back an ear of his dispatching headset. “Yes, Professor?”

“Do you have any qualms if Abe here pets your dog? The old chap seems to think you’re concerned over Beef getting a little wet.”

Robert waved his hand. “Go ahead. Beef’s a stinky boy, I give him a bath every time we get home anyway.”

He then sat down, watching as Abe finally began to give Beef headpats–evidently the dog was both weirded out yet enjoying the sensation of Abe’s fishy palm on his head. Robert shook his head; he never would understand that pup.

He then jolted when Invisigal suddenly appeared next to him. She grinned. “Bet he’s not the only thing getting wet today, huh?”

“Jesus Christ!” Robert hissed. “Can you stop doing that?”

“Fuck off, I’m allowed to have fun,” Invisigal huffed, folding her arms. “The shift’s been boring, I could be worse than this.”

“You can be worse than this? Damn,” Clay quipped as he walked by on his way to the records room; Invisigal flipped him off with a glare. She then glanced back down at Robert.

“Where’s your little boyfriend? Myers? He quit being a co-dispatcher already?” she asked, snickering. She then leaned against the cubicle, tilting her head back. She tried not to glance down at Robert too much–even now, weeks after her dream, she was feeling…things for the man. She still needed a new job and to get laid.

“Actually, Visi, he’s being nice and getting all of us coffee,” Robert grumbled, spinning in his chair to face her. “He’s a good guy, don’t give him shit for being nice. You want to bitch at anybody, do it to me.”

“Wow, what a hero,” Invisigal mused, smirking. “A real knight in shining armor type. Guess I was right; Beef ain’t the only thing wet right now.”

“Oh for–” Robert groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Will you cut that out before you make the entire office floor uncomfortable?”

Chase then poked his head up from the next cubicle. “Yeah, some of us are actually trying to fucking work here, Invisibitch.”

Invisigal snorted, but her gaze on Chase was harsh. “How about that, Grandpa actually learned a new word during Scrabble night at the nursing home.”

“. . . Fuck, I preferred it when you were dumb, not clever,” Chase frowned.

As if on cue, Myers arrived with an office tray cart; an assortment of coffee in styrofoam cups with lids was on the tray, as well as a container with Half-And-Half creamer cups and sugar. He offered an awkward smile as he stopped the tray next to Robert, Chase, and Invisigal. He grabbed two cups, handing them to Chase and Robert, before offering a third to Invisigal.

“I, uh, didn’t want to assume how you took the coffee, so,” he began to explain. “There’s cream and sugar right here if you want any.”

He awkwardly stood there as Invisigal just stared at him while she grabbed her cream and sugar. She then took a step back, hip cocking to the side as she looked him up and down. She then smirked and vanished in a blink. She didn’t notice Abe and Bruttenholm–still off to the far side with Beef–sharing a glance.

Myers glanced at Chase and Robert for an explanation. Chase did a sign of the cross as he shook his head. “Rest in peace, brother. You’re in her sights now.”

“I hate to say it but welcome to the club,” Robert said, tone mockingly somber. He and Chase both chuckled as Myers began to sputter. The three men looked to the side as they heard a faded shriek. Sonar marched over, rubbing his hands together as he grabbed two cups of coffee.

“Johnny boy, Johnny boy!” he yipped. “That’s what we like to see! Personally I like my coffee laced if you know what I mean, but beggars can’t be choosers. I’ll let Mal know you did this.”

Myers went to speak but Sonar ignored him, walking away. As he passed by Bruttenholm and Abe, Sonar held one of his hands up, the coffee in the cup swirling.

“Broomster! Don’t think I forgot I owe you one for making sure I don’t get cut!”

“Do you now?” Bruttenholm asked, hiding his amusement. “I suppose I’ll keep track of that.”

“You seem like a smart guy, I have faith,” Sonar said. “More faith in you than Mr. Sashimi there. Kinda gives weird vibes; not Harvard Graduate material, unlike me.”

Sonar then hummed as he walked off. Abe huffed, still petting Beef.

“Arrogant child,” Abe muttered beneath his breath.

Manning nodded his head as he watched Clay, Quarry, Moss, and Lime finalize the sorting of files in the records room. He sighed and rubbed his face, pacing slightly.

“It’s about time we finished this,” Manning grumbled. “We need to focus on Rasputin and Shroud. No exceptions.”

“Honestly, the S.D.N files have been very helpful,” Lime chimed in. “They’ve allowed us to see the sheer scope of the Red Ring’s operation.”

“Which tells us what exactly?” Manning asked, tilting his head.

“That these bozos the Z-Team keep arresting who claim to have no idea who Rasputin is are telling the truth,” Clay answered, shrugging. “The operation’s so damn big that it’s unlikely most of the members have met even this ‘Shroud’ guy, let alone Rasputin.”

Manning groaned, rubbing his face again. Just my luck, he thought. He was getting sick of all the bullshit he and the B.P.R.D had been encountering during all of this. The Z-Team shenanigans, trying to fit in with the way the S.D.N even worked, and Hellboy’s normal attitude? While Bruttenholm was having fun speaking to the others and learning of this new world, Manning felt like he was being buried in Hell itself.

He was knocked out of his thoughts when Mandy entered the room as Blazer. She brushed her hair back, putting on a polite smile as she cleared her throat to get everyone’s attention.

“How is everything going?” she asked, looking around.

“We’re just about done,” Quarry confirmed, nodding at her. “Once we’re done we can really focus on pinpointing Rasputin and Shroud specifically.”

“Thank God,” Mandy said, relief filling her tone and posture. “You guys are doing wonderful work.”

Manning raised a brow as he faced her. “Are we now? Is it up to ‘S.D.N standards,’ Miss Blazer?”

“Sir, why are you being snarky?” Mandy asked, the relief now gone. “I’m being serious.”

“Forgive me, but when your little ‘program’ does nothing but slack off and not take things seriously, it says a bad thing about the company as a whole. I don’t care if this is some backwater branch, you should have standards.”

Mandy felt frustration bubbling up, but she decided to be amicable instead, hoping to maybe, just maybe break through Manning’s wall. “Director Manning, I understand your concerns, trust me, I do. But…but surely you can see the Phoenix Program is starting to make progress, yeah? The Z-Team isn’t bickering as much with Robert anymore, and they’re even taking Professor Broom’s advice! This is good, isn’t it?”

Manning glanced to the side for a moment. He nodded, looking back at her.

“I suppose so,” he began. “But I still find most of their behavior absolutely disgusting and unprofessional.”

“I understand,” Mandy said, offering another smile. “But progress is slow, right? If Hellboy can do the right thing, surely even the Z-Team can?”

“The difference is Hellboy is one monster that already makes my job a living hell,” Manning huffed, approaching. “Your team? They’re chaos incarnate. Chaos we can’t afford having right now.”

Manning then left the room. Mandy sighed, shaking her head as he glanced back at the agents. Moss looked at her and shrugged.

“The Director’s always like this,” he said. “We get it, though. You’re trying your best, ma’am.”

“Thank you, Agent Moss,” Mandy replied, giving him a grateful nod. She perked up slightly as Clay approached her. He stood next to her, holding his hands in front of his lap as he shrugged.

“Blame Red for Tom’s crankiness,” Clay snorted. “Imagine having to deal with a stubborn, angsty teenager-like demon for about 20 years and now you know why Tom’s bald.”

Mandy giggled a bit at the last bit, before regaining her composure. “Duly noted, Agent Clay. But…as long as we keep up the good work, I have faith in us winning this.”

She beamed slightly when the agents nodded in approval.

Hellboy hummed a classic rock tune to himself as he walked down the halls of the S.D.N office. He slightly bobbed his head to the tune, pausing as he rounded the corner. He spotted Phenomaman and Golem talking to one another–Phenomaman’s eyes still seemed slightly baggy, but he looked better than he had in a little while. The mascot of the S.D.N then perked up as he spotted Hellboy, giving a nod.

“Ah, Hellboy!” he called out, finally sounding chipper. “Golem here has been informing me of a wonderful game! ‘Magic: The Gathering.’ Such fascinating rules for a card game!”

“Sup, Red,” Golem rumbled. “Been trying to teach P-Man here the rules. He’s really into it. We might get the rest of the team in on it for game night.”

“No foolin’,” Hellboy hummed. “Personally, I’m more of a ‘drinkin’ beer and playin’ poker’ kinda guy if you ask me.”

He then raised a brow as Phenomaman placed a hand on his shoulder. The hero looked almost somber.

“Hellboy, gambling and alcohol are serious addictions. You cannot let them rule you in your everyday life.”

“Relax, P-Man, I use more cigars than I do beers.”

“Smoking is also a very serious addiction, my friend. If you would like I can refer you to a rehabilitation facility like the one Sonar attends so that we can have you at peak health. We all care about your wellbeing.”

Hellboy deadpanned while Golem hid a snort.

“I’ll consider it,” Hellboy snarked, though Phenomaman took him extremely seriously.

“Phenomenal,” Phenomaman said, a tiny smile appearing. “I will continue to work on myself while you do the same for your own health.”

Phenomaman then floated away. Hellboy watched him go, shaking his head in amusement. He then faced Golem, tilting his head.

“You seein’ what I was seein’, Big Guy?”

“Damn sure did. P-Man’s got a wild case of the ‘tism,” Golem rumbled. When Hellboy looked confused, he shrugged. “Y’know. Autism.”

“He’s an alien, I ain’t sure the way human brains work can apply to him.”

“Shiiiiiit, you right, baby. You right. See you later in today’s shift.”

Golem and Hellboy shared a fist bump as the living construct made his way down the hallway. Hellboy continued on his journey, making his way downstairs to the gym. He was doing this on purpose; he had to check on Liz’s training. After all, if he didn’t, who would make sure she was safe?

He conveniently ignored that nobody, not even Liz herself, asked.

As he entered the gym, he paused when he saw Liz yell as she threw her arm forward–a small plume of blue flame shot forth, engulfing a fireproof training dummy. She held the plume for a few seconds, before panting as she slumped, the fire extinguishing. Flambae, standing nearby, began to slow clap.

“That’s better,” he said, humming. “You’re doing a real good job resisting the urge to explode. Thank fuck–well, not for me, I can absorb all that flame myself because I’m fucking awesome. I more so meant for the non-fireproof nerds upstairs.”

“You ain’t the only one,” Hellboy called out, making them both whip over to face him as he approached. Liz in particular looked concerned as Flambae instinctively puffed out his chest.

“Coming over to try and criticize my teaching technique, demon-bitch?” Flambae sneered. “Like you can do better with your little bitch ass horns–”

“Actually, Matchstick, if you’d stop and listen, you’d know I was comin’ down to thank you,” Hellboy grumbled, though he did snicker when Flambae deadpanned.

“. . . What?”

“Yeah, I came to thank you,” Hellboy confirmed, giving Flambae a pat on the shoulder. “You’re doin’ a good job with Liz. Makin’ her feel like herself instead of a freak for the first time in years. All thanks to you, bud.”

He then gave Liz a very brief brush–his shoulder against her, and his tail finding an excuse to “accidentally” wrap around her leg for only a second. His hand found hers for a quick squeeze, before he left the gym as quickly as he entered.

Flambae was still in a small state of shock, looking at Liz with a scrunched face. Liz smirked at him, softly.

“I told you he wasn’t all bad,” she snarked.

Flambae couldn’t even say she was wrong.

Myers took a deep breath as he entered the breakroom, heading for the refrigerator in order to pull a drink out–a nice cold water. As he did, he noticed that Invisigal, Malevola, Prism, and Coupé were sitting together at the table. They spoke in hushed tones as they glanced at them.

He awkwardly waved, trying to shuffle away from the fridge once he got his drink. He paused as their voices got louder.

“I can see it,” Malevola said, nodding her head as she looked at him up and down. “You got a point there, Visi.”

“I still think you’re a bit cray-cray for it, bitch,” Prism hummed, glancing up from her phone.

“Could be fun if you get past the boy scout element,” Coupé said, glancing at a knife of hers. “Have to ‘cut’ through it though.”

“See? I knew you girls would get it,” Invisigal smirked, leaning back in her seat. “Though I think he’s a little lost.”

Myers blinked a bit. “What’s…what’s happening?”

“Damn, bitch, no wonder Flambae says you have doe eyes–you look straight up like a deer about to be run over,” Prism snorted. “Almost feel bad. Almost.”

“He’s bold with the nicknames; isn’t that right, Myers?” Coupé asked, looking up from her knife. Her lips twitched when Myers took a step back.

“C’mon, babes, no reason to be so jumpy,” Malevola cooed, walking over to wrap an arm around Myers–snorting when he jolted. “You’re cute. Not fair that Red gets to hog ya.”

Before Myers could even try to reply, the four women left the breakroom, leaving him in it alone. He stood in place for a moment, trying to process it all as Galen walked in. He glanced at Galen, clearing his throat.

“You, uh…you have superhearing, right?” he asked. “Did you…hear what they were talking about?”

Galen placed a hand on Myers’ shoulder. “Lock in, bro. Lock in.”

Myers paled a bit, but the moment didn’t last. Soon after, the power flickered before turning off. Within seconds, the emergency generators turned on. Galen looked around, his gaze narrowing a bit as he nudged Myers.

“C’mon, something’s up,” he muttered.

He and Myers hurried out of the breakroom. The office floor was slightly chaotic as dispatchers and others scurried around, trying to get a handle of things as power returned to their terminals. Even Mandy and Manning had appeared on the floor.

“What the hell happened?” Manning asked, looking around with a frown. Mandy glanced out the windows, noticing a lack of lights anywhere in view.

“The power’s out citywide. Thank God it’s the middle of the day,” she said. “We can return power to the city from here at S.D.N thanks to our hacking potential–it allows us to access the generators.”

“What about callers during it all?” Manning inquired, looking at Blazer. “I wouldn’t be shocked if criminals take now as a time to act.”

“An excellent point, Tom,” Bruttenholm chimed in as he walked over, gripping his cane. “Which is why I hope perhaps we can have everyone sent out to patrol the city. Do the dispatching terminals still work under these conditions?”

“Yes,” Mandy confirmed, perking up. “Our teams still have communication with their designated dispatcher while the building runs on generators.”

“Splendid. I say we have everyone on deck–our agents and your Z-Team will go out with others to help around the city,” Bruttenholm suggested, smiling when Mandy nodded at the idea. She then faced the rest of the office floor.

“You heard the professor!” she called out, gesturing to the doors. “Let’s go, let’s go! We have a city to keep an eye on!”

She paused for a moment when she noticed Manning giving her a nod of approval. 

Within minutes, they had a handle on things; Myers was reassigned to field work instead of helping Robert with dispatching due to the severity of the situation. The young agent joined his colleagues as everyone prepared to head out into the blacked-out Torrance.

Hellboy in particular lit a cigar as he left the S.D.N building–flanked by the Z-Team, Myers, Quarry, Moss, Lime, Clay, Abe, and Liz. He thought it was a bit corny, all of them leaving the building together, but he didn’t mind. It actually reminded him of his comic books.

“Alright, fellas,” he called out, looking at them as he unholstered the Samaritan. He then glanced back forward at the city.

“We got a city to check out.”

Rasputin gazed upon the powerless city of Torrance from a balcony at the steel works. Hands on the rails, he looked at the sight with an analytical gaze. It had been Shroud’s idea to make the city fall into darkness. Said that if the S.D.N reacted as he predicted–a 75% probability–Rasputin would get to see more of the Z-Team in action.

He was looking forward to it.

He didn’t even look behind him as Kroenen and Ilsa approached.

“Kroenen,” he said. “I would like for you to assist Sammael down on the ground. Have fun.”

Kroenen let out a wheezy cackle as he turned to leave with a flourish of his leather coat. Ilsa approached Rasputin, standing next to the monk as her hand rose to rub his back. She leaned against the railing herself.

“My love. Do you plan on informing Shroud of the truth regarding ‘Blonde Blazer?’” she asked.

“No,” Rasputin answered, surprising her. “Her perceived strength is the only thing keeping Shroud in line. He may hide it well, but that ego would easily make him a liability. Pride cometh before the fall.”

He was satisfied with Ilsa’s nod. He continued to look out at the city, tightening his grip on the railing of the balcony.

This was going to be fun.

Chapter Text

Agent Clay frowned as he glanced across the blacked-out city of Torrance. The overcast sky made everything look gray and dull, and if not for the people choosing to wander about, Clay would’ve felt like he was in the apocalypse. He was patrolling by car with Prism and Punch Up to try and cover more ground.

Looking in the rear view mirror, Clay saw Punch Up sitting in the middle-back seat. A smirk twitched on the agent’s lips.

“Punch Up, right?” he asked briefly, glancing back at the road. “Sure you don’t need a car seat back there, lil’ guy?”

Punch Up cackled. “Nice to see Red ain’t the only ball-buster at your dainty Bureau.”

“What can I say, he rubs off on us sometimes,” Clay responded, shrugging. He glanced to the side when he heard Prism groan.

“Is that all you balding ass Uncs do over there?” she asked, scrolling through her phone. “Just ball-bust and dress tacky?”

“You wound me, Lightshow,” Clay said, humming. “What’s with you and that damn ‘smartphone?’ The city’s on a blackout and you’re still doing…what was it? ‘Reels?’”

“For my followers, bitch!” Prism huffed, defensive. “They need updates about their favorite diva on the job. Not my fault you’re from old ass 2004.”

“Lady Ha-Ha here is addicted to the thing,” Punch Up muttered, only to laugh when Prism tried–and failed–to reach behind her seat and hit him. He simply leaned away from each attempt, grinning.

“See? Violence means I’m right, lass!”

Clay shook his head. “Yeah, it’s gonna be a long day.”

Manning’s intuition had been right. 

With the city in a blackout, a group of Red Ring members had decided to try and pull a heist off at one of Torrance’s banks. A standoff had formed outside between them and the police, but the arrival of some of the Z-Team had turned things in the cops’ favor.

Golem calmly approached the Red Ring robbers, not at all minding the fact they were firing their weapons at him–in fact, he simply just absorbed the blows as he approached.

“Heh, that actually kinda tickles,” he rumbled, before casually backhanding a robber out of the way.

With him distracting the robbers, Malevola and Coupé were able to swoop in. Malevola appeared from a portal on a pillar near some of the robbers’ cover in front of the bank, and she shot out to both kick them and wrap her tail around one’s throat to immobilize him.

Coupé, meanwhile, swooped down as if she was on one of her old assassin jobs and took out robbers one by one–not killing them, as that would look bad for the team, but incapacitating them with strikes on pressure zones.

It didn’t take long for the three to have all the robbers rounded up for the police–they seemed like very, very basic goons. Far from the best the Red Ring had to offer. Regardless, they did take one aside for some questioning before handing him over to the police.

Golem kept the goon pinned to a wall, and Malevola assisted with a stare that reeked of sadistic glee. Coupé approached, holding a knife of hers up to the goon’s chin.

“You’re Red Ring,” she stated, frowning. “Tell us where Shroud and Rasputin are.”

“I don’t know shit!” the goon hissed, glaring. “Who the fuck is even Rasputin?! I’ve never even met Shroud!”

“Makes sense,” Malevola hummed. “You’re so shit at your job that you’re just a basic henchman. Kinda sad.”

“Fuck you!” the goon snarled, his ego taking a hit.

“That’s just mean, man,” Golem said, shaking his head as he sauntered off to hand the goon over to the cops. As he did, Malevola and Coupé shared a glance.

“Either they’re lyin’,” Malevola began, folding her arms over her chest. “Or only the top dogs know the whereabouts of Shroud and Rasputin.”

Coupé glanced to the side for a moment. “It wouldn’t surprise me if it’s limited to the Red Ring’s upper ranks. Considering how many members we end up arresting, it makes sense not every single one is privy to the information.”

“Makes our job a pain in the ass though,” Malevola huffed, shaking her head. “And means we gotta hear that Manning guy bitch at us even more.”

Golem had now returned, looking down at them both. “I dunno, I actually kinda like the guy.”

Coupé and Malevola both looked at him as if he had said something heretical. Golem took a moment to realize they were waiting for him to explain before he finally did, shrugging as he straightened up.

“He says what’s on his mind. Gotta respect that.”

“He’s a hardass,” Malevola countered, throwing her hand out. “He always has somethin’ to say about us.”

“Sure,” Golem conceded. “But seeing him squabble and get red-faced is kinda funny.”

Coupé reluctantly nodded. “He has a fair point there.”

Malevola grumbled but didn’t argue any further. She led the other two away from the bank once the police had established control of the area, placing a finger on her comm unit in order to speak to the entire team.

“Alright, bank robbers are dealt with,” she began. “None of ‘em know about the top dogs, though.”

“That’s just great,” Robert groaned from his end. “Still, good work taking them out. You guys did well.”

“Thanks, man,” Golem chimed in. “I’m feeling mad munchies though. Mind if we take an early lunch break?”

“If Big Guy’s gettin’ lunch, so am I, Bob,” Hellboy spoke up from his end. “I need a full stomach if you want me kickin’ Sam’s ass.”

“Red, now is not the time,” Abe added–his appearance making a few snorts echo across the line.

“Woah woah woah,” Flambae chuckled. “Who the hell let Fishy join the call? We’re not discussing blub-blub-blub techniques.”

“Oh for–will you all grow up and focus on the mission at hand?” Abe demanded, audibly huffing when the rest of the communication line was filled with laughter instead of people agreeing with him.

Malevola fondly shook her head, glancing behind herself. She noticed Coupé staring off into the distance, and decided to get off of the communication line.

“Somethin’ the matter, Coop?” she asked, head tilting.

Coupé shook her head. “No. I just thought I saw something.”

As the trio left, Rasputin remained in the shadows. Always watching. Always studying.

Sonar whistled as he zipped up his pants, having just finished taking a piss off of the side of the harbor. Fixing his tie next, he turned to see that Quarry and Moss were still waiting for him a few feet away.

“Alright, alright,” Sonar called out. “Official Harvard Graduate business over.”

Quarry and Moss remained silent, but did glance at one another. Silently, they agreed that they drew the short end of the stick by being with Sonar. At least they knew Hellboy far better than they did any member of the Z-Team. Granted, they also absolutely preferred being saddled to Sonar instead of one like Invisigal or Flambae.

“Alright, let’s go,” Quarry said, nodding to the rest of the harbor. “We’re here to see if Sammael made a nest anywhere nearby, not to lollygag.”

Sonar took a moment to truly examine the two agents–noticing what he had initially thought were backpacks were actually fuel tanks for two small flamethrowers they were carrying. He hummed, placing his hands in his pockets as he followed them.

“I see you two got some high quality shit for this,” he mused, smirking. “I approve.”

Moss adjusted his hold on his own flamethrower as he looked back at Sonar. “You’d be surprised how many paranormal things don’t like fire.”

“Man’s first invention strikes again,” Sonar hummed. He glanced around as they entered the shipyard, looking for clues. “What’s the likelihood that Sammy actually nested up here?”

“There might be eggs underwater by the docks,” Quarry explained, looking back at Sonar. “Hopefully the space is open enough for us to spot Sammael before he can sneak up.”

“Normally I’d consider this work far beneath my pay grade, but lucky for you guys, this Harvard Graduate is feeling humble today,” Sonar said, smirking as he pointed to himself with his thumb.

Quarry and Moss simply shared another look.

The search had initially been uneventful–Sonar spent more time trying to waft the sulfur smell from the pungent water away from his nose than he did actually finding any signs of Sammael. But it wasn’t uneventful for too long. Moss jolted as he heard a squeal, looking off to the side; a single Sammael had climbed up one of the shipping containers of the harbor, hissing as it stared down at them.

“Up there! Up there!” he called out, turning to aim his flamethrower. As Moss spewed flames forth, Sammael snarled and jumped over to a separate shipping container, scrambling to catch its footing when it nearly slipped off the edge.

Quarry huddled back by Sonar, fiddling with the settings of his flamethrower. Sonar, meanwhile, focused on watching Sammael crawl around the cargo box. He watched it hiss and writhe its tentacles as it watched them. He was able to immediately tell the Hound was aiming to attack.

“I’ll fry him quick, just give me a second,” Quarry said, slightly on edge. He looked confused when Sonar held up his hand to silently say “wait.” The bat-man narrowed his gaze, waiting. If he was accurate, and he always was, then Sammael would lunge–

NOW. The beast pounced forth, claws and maw spread wide as it lunged for Sonar. Quickly, Sonar let out a sonic shriek, directly hitting Sammael. The creature howled in pain, writhing in the air as it got disoriented. This allowed Sonar to step aside as Sammael slammed onto the ground, rolling around as he kept hitting it with his sonic shriek.

Quarry seized the opportunity to run up and start blasting Sammael with flames. As he did–wincing from both the smell of burning demon flesh and Sammael’s howls–Moss joined him to make sure the job was finished. The two only stopped as the Hound went limp and the splitting green orb appeared from its chest.

Sonar dusted off his hands as he glanced down at Sammael’s burning corpse. He nodded his head as he studied it.

“Yep,” he began. “That’s one dead demon dude alright. Good work, fellas.”

He whistled, walking away. Moss shook his head before joining Sonar, speaking into his comm unit to inform the others about what had happened. Quarry took a moment to actually follow the two, trying to shake his jeebies away.

He swore it felt like the corpse had stared at him even in death.

Myers knew Hellboy would never let him hear the end of it if he saw what the young agent was currently doing.

While Malevola’s group had stopped robbers and Sonar’s just killed a Sammael, he was busy handing water bottles out to citizens so they didn’t get thirsty during the blackout. It was prime boy scout behavior, and while Myers was glad to help people, he knew damn well that Hellboy would laugh at him for it. 

What surprised him, however, was that Invisigal was assisting him. He didn’t know if it was her just finding an excuse to be by him–he still had no idea what the hell Robert meant by “welcome to the club”--or if she was genuinely wanting to help.

He hoped it was the latter. He had heard about her less than stellar reputation at the S.D.N. But if Bruttenholm had faith in her, Myers was willing to believe she had a shot. He deeply respected that man.

Myers perked up when Invisigal slid next to him with a smirk, having just handed a water bottle over to a civilian.

“Having fun, Myers?” she asked, humming. “I knew Red called you a boy scout, but I didn’t think it was so literal.”

“Uh…I guess,” Myers muttered, trying to put some space between the two. “Are you always…like this?”

“Why? Like what you see?”

“Quite the opposite,” he huffed, making Invisigal actually snort out of surprise. “I’m trying to work here.”

Invisigal groaned, rolling her eyes as she got another water bottle from their stationed cooler. “Oh come on, work’s boring if there’s not a little bit of fun.”

“Yeah, well I don’t exactly have fun with you.”

He shook his head as he grabbed a few water bottles–missing the way Invisigal stiffened and glared from his words. As he set the bottles up, Invisigal took a moment to calm down. A part of her she had been slowly trying to work on was resisting the urge to just hit people out of anger like she usually would.

It was tough, but she was honestly all-in on this rehabilitation stuff. She just needed to find a way to inform Bruttenholm about her…former employers. Still, little remarks about her character continued to sting. She stood upright, about to make a snide comment back, when the words died in her throat.

Ilsa Haupstein had appeared at their station, currently accepting a water bottle from Myers.

“Here you go!” Myers said with a smile, completely unaware of who he was speaking to. “Try to stay safe–we’re all working really hard to get power back to the city!”

“How kind of you,” Ilsa hummed, glancing at the water bottle. “What is it like being a superhero, if I may ask?”

“Superhero?” Myers blinked, before waving her off. “N-No no no, I’m no superhero, ma’am. I’m just a field agent. But if you’re, uhm, curious then Invisigal here is actually a superhero for the S.D.N. You can ask her.”

Still blissfully unaware, he awkwardly smiled as he gestured to Invisigal. The heroine in question gulped as he locked eyes with Ilsa–able to tell the German woman was analyzing her. She tried to play it off, faking a shrug as she leaned back.

“It’s not super glamorous, but it can be fun,” she mused, trying to appear nonchalant. “Some days you stop a robbery, other days you help an old lady at the store. That kind of stuff.”

Ilsa tilted her head, briefly sipping from the water bottle. “I see. Surely you are proud of such work, yes? It sounds rather noble.”

Invisigal put on a smirk, but internally, she was terrified. “Eh, what can I say? It feels right.”

“I imagine,” Ilsa hummed, before nodding at Myers. “Thank you again for the water, young man.”

She then turned and left. Invisigal felt her heart continue to race for the moment, panic bubbling up through her chest and even her throat. All her confidence had seemingly melted away as she remembered her meeting with Rasputin at her apartment, how he showed her the–

“Visi?” Myers called out, his voice grounding her. “You…you alright? You look kinda clammy.”

Invisigal blinked as she returned to Earth–surprised that Myers even noticed anything was up with her. She took a deep breath, brushing her hair back with her hand.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she grumbled. “Just a bit hot from the heat–and maybe someone else.”

She tried to deflect with that tease, but to her surprise, Myers didn’t buy it at all. He just frowned and shook his head.

“If you ever need to talk, you can do so,” he offered, giving her a tiny, awkward smile. “I did the same with Liz before she started getting trained by Flambae and…it helped her. Maybe it will help you.”

He shrugged, going back to handing out water bottles. He didn’t notice the fact Invisigal just stared at him now. Nor how she gave him another up-down.

. . . 

Damn this boy scout.

“I’m going to go see if any of the others need help,” she stated, already walking away–lips twitching slightly when Myers genuinely waved goodbye at her as she left.

Flambae snorted as he lounged around outside a cafe, currently watching Liz just look around the area. Nearby, Abe and Lime were speaking in hushed tones to one another. Stretching, Flambae walked over to nudge Abe.

“Oi, Fishy, I gotta ask,” he began, pointing to the breathing apparatus. “What the fuck is up with this thing?”

“. . . It’s how I breathe for long periods of time outside of water, Flambae,” Abe explained, staring at him as if he was stupid. Flambae wasn’t a fan.

“Don’t give me that look wet-bitch, not all of us are super techy types.”

“Yeah, Abe, Flambae is more of a caveman,” Liz spoke up, earning a snicker from Lime. Abe found it fascinating that instead of being pissed, Flambae smirked back at her.

“It’s not my fault my fists work so well.”

“Violence isn’t always a solution,” Abe scolded, frowning.

“Uh, first of all, Fishy,” Flambae began, poking Abe’s chest. “It’s not a ‘solution’ it’s a question with the answer being ‘yes.’”

“Such an attitude makes you just like Red,” Abe hummed, resisting the urge to smirk when Flambae looked offended. They all perked up when Robert started to speak through the comm unit.

“Heads up, guys–we’re getting a call from a warehouse near your location. Says it might be full of Sams.”

Lime nodded, pointing between Abe and Liz. “Alright, we’ll go in together and–”

“Nah, I’d win,” Flambae hummed, taking off into the skies towards the designated warehouse. Lime and Abe both gawked while Liz simply facepalmed. She’d never understand men like Hellboy or Flambae when it came to their egos.

Flambae, meanwhile, kept soaring to the warehouse, flames trailing his flying form. He began to descend once the warehouse came into sight–an unused one from the industrial district. To him, this just meant he didn’t have to worry about “property damage.”

With all the grace of a flailing toddler, he crashed through the wall, landing on the ground in a typical superhero pose as the flames faded off of his body. He smirked to himself.

“I am so fucking cool,” he whispered, standing up. He rested his fists on his hips, glancing around at the empty warehouse. At first, he felt like he had been duped–but soon enough, two Sammaels revealed themselves, squealing and drooling as they seemingly studied Flambae.

“There you are, ugly little bitches,” Flambae sneered, holding his arms out. “C’mon! Don’t you want a piece?!”

He faltered when the two Sammaels just looked at one another. He was being disrespected by two stubborn ass demons.

It pissed him off.

Growling, Flambae floated up into the air, now covered in fire. “I said COME ON!”

One Sammael slammed its fist into the ground and roared at him, tentacles writhing, while the other one began to flank him. To Flambae though, neither were an issue. He easily dodged the flanking Sammael’s attempt at grabbing him with its tongue, dashing past the first Sammael.

Within seconds, the first one was immediately cooked to a crisp by Flambae’s jets of flame. He laughed at how easy it was–he’d be sure to mock Hellboy over struggling with Sammael later–and faced the second Sammael.

To its credit, this one was a lot more slippery. It used the abandoned machinery of the warehouse to its advantage, dodging Flambae’s fire. It also jumped around to make it harder for Flambae to aim. It was starting to agitate the pyrokinetic.

“Hold the fuck still!” he hissed, another spew of fire missing Sammael.

Sammael then shot its tongue out again, aiming for Flambae’s head. Having assumed it would do such a thing, Flambae outright grabbed the tongue with both hands and began to burn it with his touch. Sammael shrieked and tried to retract the tongue, only to start flailing in pain when Flambae burned it to the point of severing it instead.

He then took the opportunity to utterly drench the damn Hound in flames now that it was too busy writhing. With both Sammaels dealt with, Flambae placed himself back onto the ground as the flames on his body vanished, a smug grin on his face.

“Yeah, that’s fucking right!” he said, pointing at one of the burnt corpses. “I’m the fucking man! You ain’t shit, Sammy! I’m the fucking guy! I’m fucking–”

“Arrogant as all can be, it seems,” Rasputin said from behind Flambae. The pyrokinetic whipped around to face the monk–there was a good amount of distance between them. Rasputin simply paced for a moment, placing his hands behind his back.

“You are definitely confident, child,” he mused. “It is not unfounded, and yet you still manage to overestimate yourself.”

Flambae paced as well–the two now circling each other as he pointed at Rasputin. “Says you, bald bitch. Out here trying to summon gods or some stupid shit like that.”

Rasputin chuckled, only making Flambae angrier. “Child, I am bringing about a new Eden for both of our worlds. You should be excited.”

“Oh yeah?” Flambae sneered. “Why’s that, baldy? Gonna make me a king or some shit? I don’t fall for that.”

“Of course not,” Rasputin said…before grinning. “But it will be a far better world for your niece.”

Flambae’s blood ran cold. He felt his heart stop even as his breathing hitched. The world around him was completely drowned out now as his mind raced. Quickly though, he returned; fists clenching and vibrating with rage as fire literally danced in his eyes.

“You stay the fuck away from her,” he hissed, snarling as well. Rasputin merely chuckled at the display.

“Every man, every hero, has a weakness, Flambae. She has a recital coming up, does she not? Perhaps I should see her performance myself.”

“FUCK YOU!” Flambae roared, throwing forth a massive plume of flames from both of his hands. When it cleared, he saw that Rasputin had seemingly teleported to a different part of the warehouse.

“Aren’t you proud of her performances?” he sardonically asked, smirking when Flambae roared again. Once more, another plume of flame was sent his way–Rasputin, again, seemingly teleported. Over and over, a wrathful Flambae tried to douse Rasputin in flames. And over and over, Rasputin simply teleported away. The flames were eventually beginning to engulf the warehouse entirely–but Flambae didn’t care.

At some point, however, he did exhaust himself–breathing heavily as he hunched, but the rage remained in his eyes. Rasputin appeared in front of him again, smirking slightly.

“All that rage, for naught. It is time for a new age of man, child. Accept it.”

“GO FUCK YOURSELF, YOU BALD BITCH!”

Rasputin merely laughed; in a blink, he was gone. Flambae continued to snarl and huff even as the flames around his body died down–his fists still shaking from rage…and fear.

Only then did Abe, Liz, and Lime finally arrive, opening the doors to the warehouse. Lime stumbled back a bit as the heat came through from all the fire.

“Jesus Christ!” he yelled, glancing around. “What the hell happened here?”

Flambae didn’t answer, he just glared where Rasputin had been standing prior. He then turned and stormed towards the exit of the warehouse.

Abe tapped his finger against his comm unit. “The warehouse call is handled. Flambae seems on edge.”

“When is he not?” Robert chirped up.

“Shut. The fuck up. Robert.”

The sheer venom in Flambae’s voice made the line go silent. Liz looked deeply concerned as Flambae practically shoved his way past Abe and Lime, making both men stumble. They all shared glances.

For once, they didn’t chastise him.

Waterboy’s day had gone mostly okay. While the rest of the team was on Sammael patrol, he was one of the few members focused more on general help around the city. Part of him was glad he was being given the “easy” calls, but another part of him wanted another moment to prove himself.

Killing those three Sammaels had helped, but the Z-Team still didn’t respect him just yet.

But he was taking Robert’s advice. Any snide comment he tried to let just slide off of him like the water soaking his jumpsuit. It wasn’t easy, but he was trying his best.

He was currently sent on a call to go check a convenience store rooftop for potential electrical damage due to the blackout. He was a bit concerned–given water was conductive–but since power was out throughout Torrance still, he was informed he shouldn’t be electrocuted. He just had to see if it was damaged and report it back to S.D.N for insurance purposes.

Heading into an alley next to the store, Waterboy hummed a tune to himself as he looked for the maintenance ladder. Once finding it, he began to cautiously climb it, still humming. He had a smile smile to himself as he began to reach the top of the roof, thinking about how proud–

A knife slashing across his face made him shriek and let go of the ladder. He fell all the way back down, bouncing harshly off of a closed dumpster before rolling across the ground. He felt his face for a moment–the cut wasn’t deep, and if not for his goggles, he’d’ve been slashed across one of his eyes.

Looking forward, he noticed his comm unit had been thrown aside by his fall. He struggled to stand up–because superhero or not, that fall hurt–trying his best to hobble towards the unit so he could call for help.

He was intercepted by Kroenen. The assassin landed in front of him, blocking him from the exit to the alley. Kroenen just stared at Waterboy, coldly crushing the comm unit beneath his boot.

Waterboy hyperventilated, taking a shaky step back as Kroenen’s wristblades shot out; one of them still laced with a small amount of Waterboy’s blood. The sight made Waterboy shake even more as his hands rose up in a defensive position.

“S-S-Stay backward–away–back!” he yelled. “Stay b-b-back!”

But Kroenen did not respond. Instead, the assassin sharpened his wristblades together as he took a step forward, breathing audible. Waterboy gulped, noticing his hands were trembling. He tried his best to think about Bruttenholm’s advice and not the immense fear in his heart.

He looked over his shoulder only for a moment–there was another, albeit much taller, maintenance ladder connected to the building next to the convenience store, and a brick wall at the end of the alley. He had no choice.

Turning back, Waterboy spewed a hose of water at Kroenen’s head, making the assassin grumble and swat at it out of surprise. Waterboy took the chance to turn and run for the ladder, beginning to hastily climb it–adrenaline helping prevent him from slipping as he climbed. Kroenen merely approached, taking out two knives from his coat pocket.

With a flick of his wrist, Kroenen threw the first knife way up–lodging itself into Waterboy’s leg. The young hero shouted as he readjusted his grip on the ladder; continuing to climb despite the pain. Kroenen found such resilience to be fascinating, if also slightly annoying. So, the assassin threw the second knfie. It spun in the air before stabbing into Waterboy’s arm. Again, the young hero cried out, but did not stop his climb.

Kroenen wasn’t sure if it was determination or fear, but he was intrigued in seeing how long it would last.

Ignoring the pain in his arm and leg, Waterboy began to reach the top of the roof. He paused when he heard a loud squeal. Looking down, he saw Sammael bound up over the brick wall blocking off the alley, before crashing down onto the ground. Instead of turning around like a normal creature, the Hound twisted its entire spine, then its legs, with a loud crunch.

Immediately, it looked up and shot out its tongue; the three prongs wrapped around Waterboy’s already stabbed leg and tugged. He yelped and tried to hang on, wincing as he felt something stinging and stabbing into his leg from the tongue. He could feel his grip slipping. Glancing down again, he saw Sammael crawling up the wall as it tugged on his leg with its tongue.

Waterboy spewed more water out towards the wall–it made Sammael slip off of the wall, letting go of Waterboy’s leg by instinct as it hissed and fell to the ground; a risky move, Waterboy didn’t know if the Hound would actually let go.

Not one to brag, however, Waterboy immediately crawled up onto the rooftop and began to limp his way to the other side. Behind him, he could hear Sammael’s snarls get closer as the creature climbed its way to the rooftop.

Desperate, he mustered up all his speed and jumped off of the roof, aiming to land on the next building. He smiled as he flew across the air…

. . . only for it to fade as he realized he wasn’t going to make it. Instead, he shot his hands out and managed to grab onto the edge of the rooftop to prevent himself from falling, wincing when the rest of his body hit the side of the wall. Beneath him was an open dumpster with fresh bags of trash; better than raw pavement. But he still tried to pull himself up instead, struggling.

He glanced back when Sammael appeared on the roof he had just jumped from, getting ready to lunge at him. But a whistle made Sammael pause and stand down; Kroenen appeared next to it, flicking his coat back as he lunged across to the next rooftop. His augments made it immensely easy for him to do compared to Waterboy.

Waterboy panicked a bit as he found himself looking up at Kroenen now. The assassin crouched down, tilting his head as he studied Waterboy. He found it fascinating how, despite the fear, the young hero actually had a bit of a glare to his gaze.

“You–you–you won’t stop me–the Z–us! You w-w-won’t stop us!” Waterboy claimed, before his glare then hardened.

“Rasputin and Shroud are going down, I’ll be damn sure of it!”

Kroenen reared back a bit, letting out a wheezy chuckle of surprise. He then activated one of his wristblades, slashing the top of Waterboy’s palm. Waterboy yelped, now hanging off of the rooftop with only one hand. Yet, he continued to glare at Kroenen. Kroenen then slashed his other palm. Waterboy yelled out of instinct as he fell all the way down, crashing atop the trash bags within the dumpster. His body was limp now, just laying among the garbage.

Kroenen stood up, continuing to stare down at Waterboy for a long moment. He then hid the wristblade with a loud shink, whistling at Sammael. The Hound leapt across to join Kroenen’s side, squealing as it stared down at Waterboy itself. Its tentacles writhed and a glob of drool fell all the way down to the dumpster, but with a nudge from Kroenen, the beast turned to leave and follow the assassin.

After a few mroe minutes of just laying there, Waterboy cracked open an eyelid. Seeing the coast was clear, he groaned and climbed out of the dumpster, collapsing onto the ground. It took all his effort to stand up, especially as he finally started registering the pain in his arm and leg from the knives lodged in them.

Limping out of the alley, he flinched when a car harshly pulled up to the side. His worry was replaced when relief when Clay, Prism, Punch Up, and Invisigal all got out of the car.

“Holy hell, kid, what happened?” Clay asked, moving over to help Waterboy to the car.

“Bitch, you look rough! Robert said your line went suddenly dead!” Prism said, moving in to help on Waterboy’s other side.

“R-Ran…ran into K-K-Kroenen and a Samuel–Sam,” Waterboy explained, finally letting exhaustion take over. “D-Did…did my best…”

“Bloody hell, lad, you held your own enough to live and get away?” Punch Up muttered, opening up the backseat door as Clay and Prism carried Waterboy over. “You can call for help, y’know. We ain’t gonna let you die for fun.”

“K-Kroenen got my communicator–comm thingie before I could!” Waterboy said, wincing as Clay and Prism helped him get inside.

Invisigal leaned against the car, looking inside with a small amount of concern for once; concern that Clay noticed as he helped Waterboy.

“Shit, you got knives sticking out of you and everything,” she said, shaking her head. “We’ll take you back to the office. Let the infirmary and maybe Malevola heal you up.”

“She’s still busy with other calls, it may take a minute,” Prism responded. She then glanced at Waterboy once he was settled into the car.

“Glad you’re good though,” she said, nudging him. Waterboy blinked in surprise as Punch Up chuckled and did the same nudge.

“Yeah, who else would we have for cleanup duty?” he snickered, grinning a bit…but Waterboy felt it was fond.

Maybe he was welcomed after all.

Hellboy whistled as he walked down one of the busier streets in Torrance, nodding at anyone who thanked him for helping out with the blackout. It was nice to have some damn appreciation after decades of having to stay out of public light. 

Robert and the rest at the S.D.N were still having issues getting generators up and running for the city. Evidently the blackout had been a coordinated cyber attack of some kind. Hellboy had a hunch it was 100% the work of Shroud and Rasputin, and he was sure the others did too.

He perked up as Clay’s voice started to come in through the comm line.

“We got Waterboy, here,” Clay said. “Poor kid’s beat up pretty bad, said he encountered Kroenen and Sammael.”

“Oh shit!” Sonar chirped in. “And he’s alive? Damn. Got guts, Waterboy.”

“All–all good here–currently! V-Visi’s letting me, uh…use hers to talk!” Waterboy spoke up. “W-W-We’re heading…heading to the office for now!”

“It’ll be a while before I can show up to help,” Malevola said from her end.

“Thank you–thanks, ma’am!” Waterboy said.

“Don’t call me that,” she huffed back, but it softened. “Glad you’re alright, twerp.”

Only then did Hellboy finally put a finger to his unit. “Yeah, buddy, heal up. We need our underdog nice and patched up.”

Internally, Hellboy was grumpy. He getting sick of the games Rasputin’s gang were playing. Constant fake calls, random ambushes, etc. It was pissing him off. He preferred no-nonsense, blunt monster hunting where he and the monster would just beat the shit out of each other. None of this cultist and scheming crap.

As he continued to walk down the street, he reflected on his time at Torrance and the S.D.N. It was funny to him how much he and the Z-Team had finally seemed to mellow out together in recent times. Sure, there was still some bickering, but for the most part, they were all starting to actually synergize prety well. He was especially glad to see Liz was happy too–that smile of hers always made his heart race, so seeing it more often was wonderful.

He even found himself actually seeing Myers and Robert as, dare he say it…friends. He’d never admit it. Never in a thousand years.

He still thought Beef was a dumb dog though.

Hellboy was knocked out of his thoughts by hearing chaos nearby. Just then, Robert chimed in through the comm unit.

“Hellboy, there’s an overpass near your location that’s reporting monsters attacking–sounds like three or four Sams are there!”

“On my way, Bob,” Hellboy stated, taking out the Samaritan as he ran towards the source. He noticed traffic seemed to be jammed on the overpass, allowing him to run up the road itself. As he came to the middle of the overpass, he was met with civilians fleeing in panic.

Immediately, he saw Sammael–or rather, a Sammael–lunge upon a woman. Before its jaws could enclose around her head, Hellboy fired a shot, making the Hound howl in pain as the force of the bullet made it fly back into a car.

Hellboy helped the gawking woman up, smirking at her.

“How you doin’?” he said, only to grumble when Sammael started to stand up again. Hellboy glared, and ushered the woman away as he aimed the Samaritan again. The Hound instead leapt back and ran further down the overpass, shoving cars out of its way.

Hellboy ran after it, only halting to a stop when he saw the sight up ahead.

Three other Sammaels were perched on various cars, squealing when the one Hellboy had been chasing joined them. In front of them, however, was the Augmented Sammael. It held the front end of a school bus up with one of its paws–the rest of the bus was dangling off of the overpass. If it let go, the bus would fall.

Hellboy glared when he saw, and heard, the screaming kids inside. The bus driver was rapidly motioning for Hellboy to just do something.

With a grumble, Hellboy grit his teeth. “Sam, what the hell is it with you and kids?”

The Augmented Sammael squealed in response, lifting the front of the bus slightly higher–the kids inside promptly screamed slightly louder when they felt it tilt. Hellboy glared again and aimed the Samaritan right at the Augmented Sammael.

“For the last time, chunk-face! You want me, right? Let the damn kids go!”

He raised a brow when the other Sammaels chortled and squealed. The Augmented Sammael tilted its head at Hellboy, as if asking him to repeat.

Hellboy frowned. “I said let them go–”

He was only aware of his mistake when the Augmented Sammael literally let the bus go, causing it to fall off the overpass. Hellboy’s eyes widened as he stumbled forward instinctively–for once feeling like he actually failed.

The Augmented Sammael mocked him with a squeal…only to pause when there was no sound of the bus crashing to the ground. In fact, it and Hellboy started to hear cheering.

Glancing to the side, they were all met with the sight of Phenomaman rising up into the air–holding the bus in his hands. The sun finally poked through the overcast clouds, basking the hero in a golden light as his cape billowed. A savior.

“A phenomenal rescue!” he claimed, before glaring down at the Augmented Sammael. “. . . From a phenomenally ugly creature.”

The Augmented Sammael roared in rage. Hellboy took the chance to blast the beast right in the chest. The exosuit protected it from any true damage, but it still made the Augmented Sammael fly back into a car, denting the hell out of the vehicle.

With a drool-filled squeal, the Augmented Sammael took off for the skies. Holstering the Samaritan, Hellboy ran to the edge of the overpass and jumped off of it to grab onto the Hound’s legs.

He missed.

“Aw, crap,” he muttered, before falling down to the ground–faceplanting into the asphalt so hard, he actually cracked it.

Phenomaman, still holding the bus, glanced down at him. “Are you okay, demon-friend?”

Hellboy gave him a thumbs up from his Right Hand of Doom.

Nodding, Phenomaman put the bus back down onto the overpass, allowing the driver and kids to escape to safety. He then used his fast flight to swoop down, grab Hellboy, and bring him back onto the overpass. The four Sammaels remained on their perches, starting to hiss and snarl at the duo.

“Intriguing. They do not run?” Phenomaman asked, studying them all.

Hellboy took out the Samaritan again. “Sam’s a stubborn piece of crap. He’ll fight until the end. Think you can handle them, P-Man?”

“I am certain, demon-friend,” Phenomaman declared, getting into a defensive stance. Hellboy kept the Samaritan aimed, but he noticed the four Sammaels had begun to circle the two of them.

The beasts only paused when Mandy landed in between Phenomaman and Hellboy in a crouch, golden light eminating from her Blazer form.

“Blonde Blazer?” Phenomaman called out in surprise. 

Hellboy grinned at the Sammaels. “Uh oh, Sams. Mommy’s here–she ain’t happy with you, kiddos.”

Mandy chuckled at Hellboy as she stood up, briefly hovering in the air now. “Figured I’d help make things a lot easier.”

“Fine by me,” Hellboy smirked. “Let’s kick some monster ass.”

He started the fight by immediately blasting one of the Sammaels right in the chest. As he provided firepower, Mandy flew around and actually punched or beamed the other Sammaels. During the fight, Hellboy noticed Phenomaman focused on more defensive measures–moving civilians away or shielding hits–than actively fighting.

While four Sammaels would give Hellboy trouble, having Mandy really did help. Sure, when a Sammael did manage to grab her, she found herself being thrown around, but the ease she had at being able to actually explode the heads or chests of the Sammaels made up for it. She didn’t want to discredit Hellboy’s baby, but she was glad she had her beams instead of the Samaritan.

After a few minutes, the last Sammael had its head blown apart–now four Sammael corpses were on the overpass, and all four had green orbs that split into two.

Hellboy grumbled at the sight, holstering the Samaritan. “We really need to find Sam’s new nest, huh?”

“That would be an intelligent idea, Hellboy!” Phenomaman said, patting him on the shoulder. “You truly are an expert in this field. We would struggle without a monster hunter like you.”

“Y’know, if anyone else said it like that, I’d think they were bein’ a sarcastic prick,” Hellboy snorted. “Thanks, P-Man.”

Phenomaman nodded, before he and Mandy locked gazes. Though he looked both sad and extremely desperate to speak to her about their prior relationship…he chose to simply give her a polite smile. It made her smile in return, glad to see he was finding ways to overcome his heartbreak.

Just then, the city flickered with light as the power returned. Hellboy chuckled at the sight, hearing cheers from the civilians still nearby on the overpass.

“About damn time,” he muttered, shaking his head.

Mandy, still smiling, put a finger to her comm unit. “Robert! The power’s back! You guys did it! We even cleaned up the Sammaels that were on the overpass!”

“That’s good to hear, Blazer. It took a lot of hacking but we–”

He was cut off by shattering glass and screaming on his end. Mandy paled and gasped, even Phenomaman and Hellboy flinched as it came through on their own comm units.

“Yo, you guys good?” Golem chimed in from his side. But there was no response aside from panic.

“Robert?!” Mandy called out, eyes widening. “ROBERT!”

At the S.D.N office, Robert groaned as his back slammed into the wall near his cubicle. He coughed, looking up at the new arrival that had thrown him back. Chase, securing Beef, had thankfully been in the breakroom at the time of the incident, so he wasn’t hit.

Instead, the Augmented Sammael stood up from where Chase would have been, having crashed through the windows of the office. It snarled while the other dispatchers panicked and backed off.

Its mechanical wings spread out far and wide; an Angel of Death. Its gaze locked onto Robert as it squealed, drool hitting the ground while its tentacle mane wriggled and squirmed. It was going for him.

Robert, sick of all the bullshit, simply groaned again.

“Goddammit.”

Chapter Text

Robert shuffled against the wall as he kept his eyes on the Augmented Sammael. The beast seemed to be studying him, only taking a few steps forward. What Robert found out, personally, was that he actually much preferred it when Sammael was a knuckle-walking abomination.

Even if it didn’t have the exosuit, the Hound was as tall as Hellboy when standing on its hind legs–it dwarfed most of the people in the office. The exosuit and mechanical wings just added to its sheer size. With a squeal, the Augmented Sammael folded its wings behind its back, briefly shaking its body free of glass.

Glancing to the side, Robert saw Chase was still safe with Beef in his arms. He could see that Chase was debating about potentially using his powers for the situation, but Robert held up his hand.

“Just keep Beef safe!” he barked, turning back to face the–

The Augmented Sammael’s enhanced bone club hit Robert in the side, knocking him off to the side to the ground. Though the wind was knocked out of him, Robert could tell the beast had chosen to hold back its strength when hitting him.

He was starting to really hate this fucking thing.

As the Augmented Sammael began to stalk towards him again, Robert tried to rapidly crawl back, putting some distance between him and the creature. He only paused when a pair of legs stood in front of him. Robert looked up, his eyes widening.

Manning stood in front of him, aiming his handgun at the Augmented Sammael. He took a deep breath, trembling slightly with adrenaline, but still aiming the gun.

“Don’t even think about it,” he said, gaze narrowing.

When the Augmented Sammael roared, Manning flinched, but still didn’t back down. Clay soon joined his side, aiming his own handgun as well. Robert stood up a bit, coughing.

“Clay?” he murmured, confused.

“We just got back and here you are getting attacked by this jackass, huh?” Clay responded, not looking away from the Hound. On cue, Punch Up and Prism also entered the office floor, looking ready to fight. Invisigal helped Waterboy limp in, handing him off to Galen so she could be ready if need be.

The Augmented Sammael chortled as the others backed away–giving it and the small group some space.

The Hound roared again, and with no one behind it, Manning and Clay opened fire. The gunfire didn’t injure the Augmented Sammel, but it did make the beast stumble and hiss in protest. Punch Up yelled as he ran up to try and punch the beast in the groin; it fell forward slightly, but didn’t seem too injured either. So, Punch Up kept punching it. 

Manning and Clay kept firing whenever they had an opening, helping Robert back further away while Prism and Invisigal went for a flank. They only paused the gunfire when the Augmented Sammael grabbed onto Punch Up’s head with one paw and his back with another. With a snarl, it began to pull, trying to rip off his head. Punch Up yelled as he used his strength to pull the paw on his head in the opposite direction, but he could feel the beast slowly overpowering him.

The Augmented Sammael let him go with a surprise squeal when a light clone from Prism kicked it in the face. As Punch Up scurried away, two more light clones joined the first–all various colors, trying to wallop on the Hound. The beast seemed agitated more than anything, and knocked the clones aside by just spreading its mechanical wings.

It then jumped onto a desk with a crouch, squealing and drooling as it locked eyes onto Prism. Gasping, she quickly made an identical copy of herself as she dodged the creature lunging at her. Instead, it pounced upon the clone. Prism backed off, face full of disgust and horror as she watched the Augmented Sammael utterly tear into the clone version of her like it had never eaten in its life. 

Upon realizing it was a clone, the Augmented Sammael slammed its fist on the floor and roared at her, standing up as its tentacle mane writhed.

“Hey! Dickface!” Invisigal called out from behind it, throwing a stapler. The Augmented Sammael paused when it harmlessly bounced off of its head, turning to face her with a bellowing hiss. It narrowed its gaze at her instead of getting aggressive immediately, an action that caught Robert’s attention.

Invisigal glared back at it, preparing to throw another stapler. “C’mon, pussy! What, too scared to hit a–”

She yelped when the thing threw a damn desk at her instead, just barely jumping out of the way before the desk slammed into the wall.

The Augmented Sammael chortled, grabbing another desk next to it, only to spin around and suddenly throw it at Manning, Clay, and Robert. Clay tackled Manning out of the way while Robert jumped down, the desk instead smashing against the wall behind them. Looking up, Robert raised a brow when the Hound chose to instead break its way through a wall, seemingly running away.

“It’s fleein’?” Punch Up asked, equally surprised. Robert was confused as to why it would flee, but as he thought about it, the color drained from his face and his mouth went agape.

The lab, he realized. He’s going for the suit.

Manning seemed to have come to the same conclusion judging by the way he glanced at Robert and nodded. Robert promptly scrambled up and began to run out of the office.

“Bitch, where the fuck are you going?” Prism demanded, throwing her arms up.

“Ignore him, put this damn building on lockdown NOW!” Manning barked–and for once, the Z-Team members present actually listened to him.

Robert, meanwhile, was panicking as he ran through the halls. He perked up as Clay joined his side, handgun still out as he reloaded it. The older agent gave Robert a slight look.

“No idea where you’re going, kid, but I’m providing firepower!” he explained.

Robert merely nodded, hastily pulling out his phone. He had never called Royd so fast in his life, murmuring “come on come on come on” the longer the ringtone went on.

“Wassup, braddah!” Royd answered, as if nothing was going on.

“Sammael’s in the building looking for the lab, lock it down, Royd! Lock it the fuck down!”

“Oh shi–” Royd muttered, before immediately doing what Robert said. Robert and Clay also noticed that the lights went out–replaced with flashing red ones and alarms.

“The hell is this?” Clay asked as he and Robert rounded a corner.

“Emergency protocol,” Robert explained. “We’re on lockdown now.”

“Did they have to make it look like a horror movie?” Clay huffed, looking uneasy. With the building now on lockdown properly, he and Robert slowed their pace slightly as they continued to make their way to the lab. 

Clay checked every corner before they rounded it, keeping his handgun at the ready. Robert let him do that every time they found a corner, before taking back the lead. Every now and then they paused to listen for the Augmented Sammael…unnerved by how quiet everything was, minus the alarms.

“There a reason he’d be heading for the lab?” Clay asked, only glancing at Robert for a mere moment; still long enough for the suspicion in his tone to be obvious.

“I’d say so–the professor and Director Manning know why. It’s a personal thing,” Robert responded. Clay was satisfied for the moment. As they rounded another corner, Robert realized it led to the entrance of the lab. Taking a sigh of relief, he and Clay hurried over and knocked on the locked down doors.

“Royd!” Robert called out. “Everything good in there?”

“All good, brah!” Royd responded from the other side. “Not opening up until da lockdown’s ovah!”

Robert nodded, relaxing. Until he noticed Clay tense, aiming his handgun. Turning around, he saw that Clay was aiming at the end of the hallway they came from. For a moment, it was shrouded in darkness from the lockdown. But then the red lights flashed with the alarm for just a second.

The Augmented Sammael stood at the end, staring at them as it drooled. Robert flinched and leaned back against the door. Clay stood in front of Robert, still aiming. The Hound chortled, starting to stomp its way over to them. It flexed its paws, its eyes gleaming with cruel intent.

“Robert,” Clay began, tone clipped. “What the hell do we do?”

“I…I…” Robert muttered, for once at a loss of words. His mind raced with all sorts of possibilities. He could have Royd try to open the door for him and Clay to rush into, but the Hound might make it by then. The alternative was being trapped in between the door and the beast.

The Augmented Sammael shot its tongue out–narrowling missing Clay’s head on purpose. Clay flinched and immediately began to open fire. The damn thing seemingly let out a wet chuckle as it kept approaching, letting the bullets bounce off of its exosuit.

“Robert!” Clay barked. “Come up with something now!”

But for the first time ever, Robert could only stare.

The Augmented Sammael stomped with a loud roar before it began to charge–Clay thought he was about to see his life flash before his eyes. Thankfully, for him, the ceiling above them caved in as Hellboy crashed through, landing in front of Clay and Robert; causing the Augmented Sammael to skid to a halt with a peeved hiss.

Hellboy looked up with a glare, flexing his stone hand. “Ding dong, Sam.”

He then punched the Augmented Sammael with his stone fist, right in the chest. The Hound was sent flying back down the hallway with a startled squeal. Obviously the exosuit had protected it, but Hellboy cared more about distance than damage.

He glanced back at Clay and Robert, noticing them both looking immensely grateful. He grinned.

“What would you do without–”

The Augmented Sammael appeared again, grabbing onto Hellboy as its wings flared out. Hellboy let out a yell as the beast then shot straight back up through the hole in the ceiling Hellboy left. Clay cursed and immediately ran down the hallway to find a stairwell.

Robert, meanwhile, slumped against the wall as he felt the adrenaline leaving him. Just as he was calming down, he heard the door to the lab open up. He took a deep breath and went inside.

“Royd, what’s–”

He froze, face going white. Royd was unconscious in his chair by the desk…and Rasputin stood by the main workbench of the lab, examining the Mecha Man suit.

“Such a fascinating piece of technology. And it’s all yours?” he asked, turning to face Robert as he placed his hands behind his back.

Robert immediately grabbed a nearby blowtorch, holding it at the ready. He frowned when Rasputin merely chuckled.

“Must you answer with violence, child?”

“Yeah, well you potentially just killed my friend here, so I think it’s worth it you bald, lunatic, psycho piece of shit.”

“Come now, boy, I have standards. Your friend is simply having a peaceful rest. He will awaken from his dream soon. His dream of a glorious new Eden.”

“Alright, Crowley, we get it, you’re an occultist freak; now shut the fuck up GET THE HELL OUT!”

Robert’s glare hardened as Rasputin scoffed at him. He aimed the blowtorch, moving closer to Royd as he did. But Rasputin noticed his grip on the blowtorch was shaky. Robert gulped and steadied his hold on it, his eyes never leaving the monk.

“What’s your goal here, baldy? To learn that I’m Mecha Man? I would’ve figured Shroud told you that already.”

“Your mortal mind could not comprehend my true goals if I even attempted to explain them.”

“Great, now you’re insulting my intelligence. What’s stopping me from getting in that suit and–”

“You lack the Astral Pulse.”

Robert faltered entirely, his bluff called. As quick as he faltered, the glare returned as he continued to aim the blowtorch at Rasputin. The monk simply chuckled, stepping closer–but not enough for Robert to immediately douse him in flames.

“I have no use for the Astral Pulse,” Rasputin began, shaking his head. “Compared to the might of my masters, it is insignificant. Shroud is the one obsessed with its location. I look forward to seeing if you find it. It would make our job much easier.”

Then, as if he had met Robert on a sunny day, he turned to leave the lab. Robert just stared at him, but did not let go of the blowtorch. In fact, he contemplated just burning Rasputin right then and there. He was about to take a step forward when Rasputin paused and glanced over his shoulder.

“Tell Mandy I said hello, Robert.”

By the time the fallen blowtorch hit the ground, Rasputin was gone.

The S.D.N office almost looked calm from the outside, until the Augmented Sammael burst from the roof with Hellboy in its arms. The demon squirmed and glared at the Hound, who just roared in his face.

Until Mandy’s fist connected with its jaw as she flew by in Blazer form, making it drop Hellboy. He only briefly yelled before Phenomaman swooped in to catch him. He carried Hellboy down onto the rooftop–the Augmented Sammael landed in front of them, using its enhanced bone-club to anchor into the rooftop since the punch had disoriented it.

Mandy, meanwhile, practically slammed down in front of Phenomaman and Hellboy, covered in a golden light as she damn near growled at the Hound.

“Get. The. FUCK. Away. From my branch,” she hissed, the golden light intensifying for a moment.

The Augmented Sammael roared back at her, drool flinging around the area. Mandy did not falter. Phenomaman stood at her side, floating slightly in the air–Hellboy stood at her other side, aiming the Samaritan at the beast.

It took a moment to judge the situation, glancing down at Mandy’s amulet.

Too risky.

It then used one of its eyes to look over to the side–in the distance, it could see the rest of the Z-Team and B.P.R.D agents rapidly approaching the office. Damn. The Hound seemingly scoffed, doing what it did best.

It took off into the skies, fleeing. Its mission had been completed for now.

“I will follow it!” Phenomaman declared as he soared off after the Hound–though the alien was completely caught off guard by just how fast the damn thing was. Clearly Shroud had given it top tier augments.

Mandy, meanwhile, deflated, rubbing her forehead. She glanced at Hellboy, fear now in her gaze. “Is Robert okay? Did you see him?”

“Bobby’s fine, Blondie,” Hellboy said, nudging her shoulder. “I saved his ass. Just doin’ my job as usual–”

He blinked when Mandy hugged him, feeling her shaking. He wrapped an arm around her, giving her a pat on the back.

“Y’good, Blondie?” he asked, tone soft for once. “I thought you were used to high stress crap?”

“Red, trust me; I’m not used to anything like this. I’m sorry.”

He scoffed. “Ain’t nothin’ to be sorry for. Just be sure to rub it in Bob’s face that I saved ‘em, I ain’t lettin’ him live it down.”

He smiled–a real smile–when the quip got a quiet chuckle out of her.

The aftermath was full of exhaustion. Phenomaman had lost the Augmented Sammael while chasing it through Torrance, claiming that the beast had taken enough twists and turns to disorient him.

Hellboy was a bit surprised to see Phenomaman took the failure so harshly that he looked back to being depressed all over again.

For now, the demon sat off to the side as he watched dispatchers and agents alike try to clean up the office floor. Manning stood at the center of it all, briefly pointing to Quarry.

“Help Chase with setting his cubicle back up, we’ll need him once things are back to business,” he ordered, nodding in approval when Quarry went to do just that. Chase muttered a quiet thanks as the two reassembled the cubicle.

Bruttenholm stood off to the side with Beef in his lap, petting the dog to help keep Beef calm. He had been lucky and was off in a separate room handling matters when the Hound arrived. Granted, a part of Bruttenholm did feel bad that he wasn’t around to help despite his age.

The man’s heart was too big.

Glancing back, Bruttenholm saw Waterboy being checked up on in the infirmary–Malevola was present to help in any way that her wound transferal could. Bruttenholm smiled when he saw Malevola smiling herself while speaking to Waterboy. Progress was progress.

The professor actually felt hope even while the others were more downtrodden due to the attack. He knew something personal had happened to Flambae even judging by the pyrokinetic’s quietness, that the others were disturbed by what had occurred, and–from what Robert had told him but not the others–that Rasputin had even laid eyes upon the Mecha Man suit.

But the hope he gained was from how nobody stopped fighting. Nobody gave up even in the face of such trauma. To him, that was proof that he had done the right thing by having faith in the Z-Team.

Meanwhile, Robert–still shaken himself–waited for when Mandy wasn’t busy assessing the situation to meet with her in her office. Alone.

Immediately, she noticed he was also actually shaking. Quickly, she cupped his face, trying to mask her own fear so he could have an anchor. It seemed to help a bit seeing as Robert relaxed slightly against her palms. He looked so exhausted.

“Robert?” she quietly said. “Are you okay? Are you sure you don’t need to be checked up?”

“I already was, Mandy, that’s…that’s not what’s bothering me.”

“Then what is?” she asked, gently brushing his hair with her gloved fingers. The action further soothed him, but he wasn’t entirely back to normal.

“Rasputin…he didn’t just see the Mecha Man suit. He…he knows. About ‘Mandy’ not being ‘Blonde Blazer.’”

Mandy promptly froze, paling to the point that Robert thought she was about to vomit. Instead, she let out an extremely shaky breath.

“. . . W-What? How?”

“I…I don’t know. He just knows,” Robert stressed, eyes closing. “I…I’m scared, Mandy.”

Instantly, she worked through her own fear to hug him as tightly as she could. Robert reciprocated, noticing that the both of them were trembling. After a moment, however, Robert began to still.

“. . . But I’m not giving up,” he stated, making Mandy glance at him. “I’m scared as shit. But I’m not letting that creepy bastard win. Me and Red? We’re going to find him and Shroud, and beat their fucking asses.”

Mandy chuckled a bit, cupping his face again. “You and Red, huh? Guess he’s finally won you over?”

“He has his moments,” Robert said, lips twitching a bit. “He’s still a stubborn prick but…well, he’s our stubborn prick now. We’ll solve this cultist crap together. All of us. You and I, him and his agency, even the Z-Team.”

“That’s what I like to hear out of you,” Mandy whispered, smiling. “Torrance’s best damn hero. My man too.”

Robert finally let a true smile grace his face, and he gently bumped his forehead against Mandy’s.

Abe hummed a tune as he assisted Bruttenholm with walking down a few stairs leading to the main lobby of the S.D.N building. The two had planned on leaving for the day, but someone quietly clearing their throat got their attention. Looking back, the two were met with Invisigal standing further up the stairs, looking shy for once.

“Professor Broom? May I…speak to you about something?” she asked, her tone far softer than either had ever heard it.

Bruttenholm shared a quick, knowing–even slightly smug–glance with Abe. “Is it alright if Mr. Sapien joins us, Ms. Invisigal? I promise he won’t judge; and if he does, he’ll never hear the end of it from me.”

Invisigal looked on edge for a moment, biting her lip…before sighing. “He…he can come. Follow me.”

She turned and went back up the stairs towards the office. Bruttenholm gave another smug look to Abe but stayed quiet as he followed Invisigal. Abe shook his head, soon trailing the two himself.

He was actually hoping the professor had a right to be so smug.

Chapter Text

Invisigal took a deep breath as shelled Bruttenholm and Abe into an unused conference room. She sat on the edge of the table as she watched Abe close the door–glad that the walls were soundproof so Galen wouldn’t hear her.

She felt uneasy and stressed as Bruttenholm and Abe promptly looked at her, expecting her to start speaking. After incessantly fixing her collar numerous times, Invisigal finally looked at them. She clasped her hands in front of her lap, but her grip was shaky.

“I have something I need to confess,” she said, voice a bit hoarse. “It…it’ll be hard for me.”

“Take your time,” Bruttenholm said, smiling. “We have all day.”

Invisigal nodded, deciding to focus on Bruttenholm instead of Abe’s extremely critical, almost analytical gaze. She fixed her collar again before clearing her throat.

“I didn’t initially join the Phoenix Program like how the others did. I wasn’t offered a plea deal, I turned myself in. Because…because I was supposed to be a spy for Shroud.”

She felt herself starting to panic slightly when she noticed Abe instantly stiffen up, but Bruttenholm remaining calm gave her the courage to keep speaking.

She shifted slightly on the table. “I was supposed to keep an eye on what they were doing, on what progress Robert was making with the Mecha Man suit if any. I…I was there the night it got destroyed. I’m the one that planted the bomb, I…I’m the one who ruined it for him. Even before you guys showed up I was feeling a bit dissuaded from villain work but now with Rasputin and–and Sammael and all of this I…I can’t do it anymore. I want to succeed in this program, I want to redeem myself now. It’s so fucking corny I know, but I’m sick of it!”

She leaned forward slightly, looking at Bruttenholm as if he was judging her at the pearly gates themselves.

“Please, sir,” she pleaded, voice breaking. “Please believe me. I just…I’m too scared of how Shroud or Rasputin will retaliate if they see me outright defect.”

She felt worry bubbling in her chest as Bruttenholm remained silent at first. He then gave a nod to Abe. Nodding back, Abe approached Invisigal, standing in front of her. As they locked eyes, Invisigal thought back to when Abe’s snide remarks had made her punch him out of anger.

. . . She was starting to really regret that.

Abe held out his palm in an offering. “Your hand, please. I will need it to ‘see.’”

Invisigal promptly let him grab onto her hand–noticing her palm was shaking before he held onto it. She watched as Abe closed his eyes in concentration, his head tilting slightly as he just stood there. After what felt like hours for poor Invisigal, Abe finally pulled away and faced Bruttenholm; his face full of pleseant surprise.

“She is telling the truth, sir,” he said, a tiny smile gracing his face. “You were right.”

“What?” Invisigal asked, glancing between the two. “What do you mean he was right?”

“When Abe touched the Mecha Man suit, he saw all of its past,” Bruttenholm began to explain, cleaning his glasses. “Including something invisible placing a bomb on it. He had also felt your fear and guilt when brushing by you. From then on we had a hunch that something was up…but I had faith you would come clean eventually. I am glad to say I was right.”

Invisigal gawked, shaking her head. “Wha–you knew? You fucking knew?”

“No, we had a hunch, Ms. Invisigal. Slightly different.”

“What the fuck! Still! You ‘had a hunch’ but didn’t see it as a problem? Why? I was a fucking supervillain working as a spy! How do you see any hope in that?”

She faltered when Bruttenholm simply reached into his pocket and pulled out a rosary, allowing her to briefly hold it as well.

“Repentance is sort of a big deal for me, young lady,” he said as he took it back, chuckling slightly. “It would be hypocritical of me to not offer kindness to one who is clearly, genuinely trying.”

Invisigal felt her throat tighten slightly as she looked away. “My powers were built for villain shit. Invisibility? I mean come on, all I can do is steal or watch famous people fu–”

“That is absolutely preposterous,” Abe spoke up, frowning. “In what world is invisibility inherently a villainous power? For goodness sakes, loudmouth, one of your teammates is a former high-calibre assassin, you having invisibility is far less heinous than that.”

Invisigal frowned, but for once Abe’s critique didn’t make her want to hit him; progress. She then shrugged and went to light a cigarette instead, briefly meeting Bruttenholm’s gaze.

“What now?” she asked. “You might be charitable but I’m not sure how the others are going to react to ‘Invisibitch being a spy.’ Especially Robert.”

She did have to stifle a chuckle when she noticed Abe mouthing “Invisibitch” in surprise.

Bruttenholm, meanwhile, stroked his beard. “Hmm. You bring up a fair point, Ms. Invisigal. I suppose it may be wise to hold onto this information for now. Especially since you have every right to be concerned about our enemy’s retaliation.”

Invisigal nodded, finally sliding off of the table as she puffed her cigarette. “Alright, I can do that.”

“Can you though?” Abe asked, tone almost like a hum. “You seem to have an aversion to keeping your mouth shut.”

“Fuck off, Wet-Boy,” Invisigal snorted, punching his shoulder–albeit far lightly than back when she had actually punched him. Bruttenholm may not have approved of the language, per se, but he was glad to see she wasn’t being outright hostile with Abe.

Progress.

Royd was starting to feel a little concerned about Robert’s mental state.

For the past few hours, the dispatcher had been obsessively looking over every nook and cranny of the lab, as if expecting to find a bug from Shroud or something else from Rasputin. He had moved the same tools aside numerous times, seemingly not even trusting his own eyes.

Royd, meanwhile, had been trying to work on another prototype of the Astral Pulse recreation. He glanced over his shoulder, seeing Robert yet again looking through one of the workbench drawers.

“You good, brah?” he called out to Robert before looking back at his work. “I already tell you, da lab is fine. No bugs, nothin’.”

“Sorry, Royd. I’m just…not fucking happy about what happened,” Robert sighed as he finally moved away from the workbench, looking up at Royd. “. . . What did you see? Rasputin said he gave you a dream.”

Royd froze, eyes widening slightly as he recalled the dream. How he saw worlds burning, pure desolation with no life in sight. How Hellboy–as the Beast of the Apocalypse, not the snarky B.P.R.D agent they knew–stood amongst the carnage as if he basked in it. How in the skies above, gargantuan cosmic entities writhed and slithered as if the air was an ocean to swim through. He noticed his hands shaking as he recalled it all, and decided to force himself to calm down with a gulp.

“Bro,” he began, whispering. “What da fuck is up with Red, yeah? He’s supposed to…be some monster?”

“Rasputin gave me that same vision,” Robert said, placing a hand on Royd to help. “So much for a new ‘Eden,’ huh? Paradise my ass.”

Royd shook his head, glancing aside. “Bummahs.”

He then set the Astral Pulse prototype off to the side so he could face Robert properly.

“Do any of da others know yet, or is it kapu? I imagine it’d make dat Director Manning all jam up if he did.”

“Manning and Broom know,” Robert confirmed. “As does Blazer and Chase. But the Z-Team doesn’t, and I’m not sure if they should. They’re only just now starting to sort of synergize with Red.”

“Eh, fair ‘nuff. But I think dey should know, no? What if dis Rasputin guy pulls the same ‘ōpala on them?”

Robert frowned as he thought about it, before nodding. “You’re right. I guess it’s time we tell them too. They deserve to know about that.”

“Like about you being Mecha Man?” Royd said playfully, though he was caught off guard when Robert looked like he was actually considering it.

“Maybe soon, Royd. But not right now.”

Royd grinned with a snort.

Hellboy leaned against the wall with a huff as he watched the Z-Team file into the boardroom for an impromptu meeting. He saw Sonar chatting with Malevola as they took seats next to each other, how Punch Up saved a spot for Coupé–and how Coupé sneakily squeezed his hand in thanks–how Golem tried to cheer Phenomaman up as they stood off by the head of the table. 

Flambae took a seat across from Punch Up, with Invisigal sitting next to him. Hellboy was a tad bit surprised when he saw Prism actually not only allow Waterboy to sit next to her, but even pulled the seat out for him.

How about that, Hellboy thought. They’re finally warmin’ up to Squirt now that he’s kicked some ass.

Glancing to the side, Hellboy watched as Robert, Chase, who was holding Beef, Mandy–as Blazer–Myers, Abe, Liz, Bruttenholm, and Manning all filed in. It made the boardroom a little cramped but nothing too bad. Hellboy tried to hide his wagging tail when Liz actively chose to lean against his side instead of standing off on her own.

He failed, judging by Flambae pointing at it with a snicker, but for once Hellboy ignored him. Why would he give a damn about Flambae being Flambae when the fire of his life–no pun intended–was right there actively seeking his attention?

The murmurs across the room all died out as Robert cleared his throat. He glanced around for a moment before he finally spoke.

“Thank you, everyone, for actually showing up on time. I’ve noticed team meetings have been a lot better in recent times, so I’ll start with saying good job on that front.”

Bruttenholm nodded in approval himself. Robert gave the team a moment to look proud as well.

“Now, onto what this is all about. I imagine we’re all pretty…stressed about what happened. About that augmented Sammael breaking into the office. About encountering Rasputin every now and then out in the field all while Shroud continues to scheme.”

Robert then leaned forward, placing his palms on the table.

“Which is why I think we need to start being as…honest as possible with one another. About everything. No doubt Rasputin will try to twist and turn us against one another. No doubt at all. But I know being upfront may not be the easiest thing for a group of former supervillains, so I’ll start; a few weeks ago, Rasputin forced me to have a vision. This whole ‘Ogdru-Jahad’ thing he’s planning? He’s planning on using Red here to end the world. Or rather, both of our worlds.”

Hellboy perked up slightly, noticing that everyone was looking at him now. Abe seemed inquisitive, while Myers and Liz seemed equally shocked–the Z-Team, meanwhile, appeared to be slightly skeptical.

“Wait, so Red’s the beast from Revelations or something?” Sonar asked, glancing at Malevola. “Can you believe that shit?”

“I mean, I can see it I guess,” Malevola said, shrugging slightly.

“Wait–wait wait like…l-like apocalypse…apocalypse? Rapture?” Waterboy asked himself, shrinking in on himself as well.

“Yer tellin’ me Shaved-Horns over here is supposed to end everything?” Punch Up inquired, shaking his head. “No fuckin’ way.”

“Damn. That shit’s wild,” Golem said, shrugging. A simple construct of simple words even in the face of such revelations.

Flambae grumbled a bit. “Well then why the fuck is Rasputin bothering all of us? Why not just go for Red and call it a day?”

“We’re probably unknown to him,” Invisigal offered, leaning back in her seat. “He seems to have a fetish for watching us–like a voyeur.”

Prism looked back at Hellboy. “Think you can postpone ending the world until I release my next album, please? I doubt they’ll let a bad bitch like me do my work in Hell.”

Hellboy let out a brief but genuine laugh.

“Have you ever felt an urge to go through with it?” Coupé asked, her tone slightly accusatory–enough so that Punch Up felt the need to elbow her.

But Hellboy wasn’t offended. Instead, he shrugged.

“Eh, I have a habit of not likin’ it when people tell me what to do,” he said, before grinning at Manning. “Ain’t that right, Tommy?”

Manning rolled his eyes with a groan, frowning harder when the rest of the Z-Team–minus Waterboy and Phenomaman–began to laugh at him. They stopped when Mandy stepped forward.

“Robert’s right,” she said, looking at all of them. “So please, if something comes up, don’t hide it from us. Please.”

Bruttenholm, Abe, and Invisigal all shared knowing glances. Thankfully, Manning stepping forward next kept the attention off of them.

“Alright, with that out of the way; I say we resume operations. Our enemies aren’t going to stop just because we’re on break.”

“That’s bureaucrat for ‘get the fuck back to work, assholes,’” Chase said with a grumble; Beef replied with a bark in his arms, as if trying to motivate the Z-Team himself. 

As everyone began to file out of the boardroom, one by one, Hellboy attempted to walk by with Liz. He threw himself back slightly when Beef tried to lean over from Chase’s arms to nuzzle him, the demon’s tail flicking in agitation.

“Dumb dog,” he grumbled. He then looked genuinely betrayed when Liz began to shower Beef in pets, making the dog a happy boy.

“C’mon, Red,” Liz said, cooing at Beef. “He’s such a good boy. Yes he is~.”

“Mmm, she’s calling the dog a good boy instead of you,” Flambae said, nudging Hellboy as he walked by. “Tough shit, demon-bitch. Work on your game.”

Hellboy glared at Flambae; for once the pyrokinetic got a one-up on the demon, and Hellboy knew damn well that meant Flambae’s ego would spike. But instead of marching after him, Hellboy just faced Liz again.

“He’s not cute,” he gruffed. “He’s a dumb mutt.”

“I-I mean, I think he’s kinda cute,” Myers tried to chime in. “Kinda chubby for a dog though–”

Myers promptly shut up when Hellboy glanced at him, and left the boardroom. Liz gently took Beef from Chase’s arms, still cooing at the dog. Robert and Bruttenholm glanced at one another, immensely enjoying Hellboy’s pouting.

“Now you’re gettin’ dog hair all over you,” Hellboy said, frowning. “What’ll Tiger think of that back home, eh? You’re replacin’ him with a dog!”

“Unlike you, Tiger is a cat that’s perfectly fine with me showing other people attention,” Liz snarked, smirking when Hellboy began to sputter. She then left the boardroom along with Chase, adjusting her hold on Beef as the dog happily barked.

Bruttenholm and Robert stood by Hellboy’s side now, watching Liz go. Robert noticed that after the brief shock faded, Hellboy actually looked…happy.

“What, do you respect her for the clapback?” Robert asked, snickering.

“Nah,” Hellboy answered. “Just glad to see her finally be herself again, instead of fearin’ her powers.”

“It is very nice indeed, my son,” Bruttenholm added. He then patted Hellboy’s shoulder. “Come, let us have a walk together. Father and son.”

Robert stayed behind as he watched the two leave. Was part of him envious that Hellboy still had a relationship with his father? Yes. But another part of him would never dare hope that Hellboy would lose it.

He knew Bruttenholm was ill, unlike Hellboy. But he had hope that the old man would make it out.

Kroenen’s finger danced in the air as he listened to an old classical piece on his phonograph within the steel works. He was sitting by himself off to the side, tinkering on his mask–his eyes dancing around as well as he let the tune flow through his ears. If he had eyelids, they’d be closed.

Shroud, nearby, watched him. He shook his head as he continued walking; he saw Kroenen as nothing more than a lunatic, but was glad that at least Kroenen was a silent one. 

As he walked by the Red Ring augmentation production line, he looked around. Progress was going well, and with Sammael out and about in Torrance–whether it be the augmented one or a nest of normal ones–the Red Ring was actually producing more than usual since there was less focus on their production lines.

Sure, some of the lower ranking members were being caught left and right, but none of them were a confidentiality risk to the operation.

Regardless, Shroud wasn’t entirely happy. He had done nothing but help Rasputin, and yet there was still no Astral Pulse in his grasp. Sure, Ilsa and Kroenen had been doing their best to ask around and investigate all of Torrance, but Shroud felt it wasn’t enough considering the time he put into augmenting Sammael. 

He had to restrain his frustration by placing his hands behind his back so he could squeeze them. As he walked, he saw Rasputin sitting in a chair up ahead, letting Ilsa shave his head as he spoke to Toxic and Armstrong.

“Like, I just don’t get it, man,” Armstrong said, mechanical arms folding. “What the fuck do you mean by a new Eden and shit, man? I’m just trying to understand, man.”

“You have a nasty habit of repeating ‘man,’” Ilsa mused as she continued to shave Rasputin. Armstrong had to resist the urge to flip her off, lest he cause them to lash out at him. Toxic, meanwhile, had no shame in groaning.