“Uhg, it smells down here.” Agent Smith complained as they trudged through murky, knee-deep waters.
“Shhh.” Hellboy hissed back. The three agents had found themselves in an underground catacomb, hidden beneath the manse, discovered through a secret trap-door in a secret study in a secluded corner of the remote island. Unsurprising, really. Given the line of work these men had found themselves drafted into. Believe it or not, the Bureau for Paranormal Research and Defence, prepared you for these sort of things. Nerves were understandable however. While this wasn’t Agent Johnson’s first assignment, nor Agent Hellboy’s (not by a long shot), it was Agent Smith’s first time in the field. First-job-jitters were normal. Something Hellboy had learned about the green Agent: when he got nervous, he talked a lot.
“What are we walking through anyway?” He asked, ignoring the sharp sh! his comrade had given him. “It’s so thick…”
“It’s gonna get a little thicker if you don’t shut that mouth, Smith.” Hellboy warned lowly. “We don’t know what’s down here.”
“I was just saying…” Agent Smith started.
“Well don’t!” Agent Johnson snapped.
“And who put you in charge?” The young Agent challenged back.
“You’ve got a bad attitude, kid.” Johnson pointed out, rubbing a hand across his bald head. Agent Smith opened his mouth to utter a retort, but was hushed finally by the melody carried upon a breeze through the stone walls of the cavernous underground. Both men looked oft in the direction from whence it came with a dreamlike expression on their features, both revelling in the beauty of the tune. By contrast, the towering red creature who accompanied them pulled on his cigarette, a bushy black brow furrowed in calculated curiosity.
“C’mon.” Hellboy encouraged through his teeth. “And shut the hell up, while you’re at it.”
The three Agents of the B.P.R.D trudged their way through the murky waters of the underground labyrinth, led by the tink-tink of the sweet melody that urged them onward. Various rooms of differing purpose passed them as they waded deeper into the maze, containing within them nothing of interest. Scatterings of furniture and varying depths of the dark slush they sloshed through, most mysteriously hollow and without perceivable use. As the stone passageway opened up to them, revealing a large chamber, the radio in Hellboy’s ear crackled to life.
“Red? Pick up, Red!”
“This had better be good, Abe.” Hellboy hissed into the communication piece, pressing a stone finger against the technology.
“It’s Agent My… -- taken off on his own!” Agent Sapien explained, the worry in his voice clear in spite of the static that interrupted his words.
“Myers is a big boy, Abe. I’m sure he’ll be fine.” He muttered in return, his words distant for the distraction that had occupied Hellboy’s focus. The chamber before him was ornate, or at least it had been once. The ceiling was domed, it’s artisanal design and the pillars that held it aloft carved from the stone of the very mountain. In the center was a seven pointed star, directly beneath which sat a sarcophagus. They had stumbled upon a tomb, the walls scrawled in ancient dialects that predated the Russian Monarchs who would have built their castle upon it. At the head of the chamber, a table of offerings stood out for the music box that sat upon its cluttered surface. In place of a ballerina, a mermaid spun in circles to the melody that echoed from her golden stage.
“I’m concern… is compromised. I felt… -- need your help!” Abe’s voice stuttered through the radio.
“Look, the boys and I are busy. Tell Krauss to send someone else.” Red muttered sharply before tugging the communication piece from where it was stuck in his ear. Letting it tumble against his shirt, he dropped his cigarette into the swampy waters at their feet, lifting his gun as he approached the sarcophagus. It was occupied by a pale body dressed in an antiquated version of a military uniform, Russian Cavalry with Commanders’ dressings to boot.
“Is that..?” Agent Smith started, the barrel of his gun revealing the shake in his hands.
“I hope so.” Hellboy said as he holstered his own gun and strode forward confidently. “Because I’ve got some questions.” Stepping up onto the edge of the sarcophagus, he straddled the corpse within as he reached down and seized the front of its uniform, lifting it from its place of rest. Pulling the black and white image he had found in the secret study upstairs from his inner coat pocket, he held the image to the whites of the sightless eyes before him. “How do you know Rasputin?” He asked. The picture captured a moment in time when Count Mikhail Khilkov had shook hands with Rasputin alongside a pretty young oriental thing that looked just like the aged painting of the woman they had found in the antechamber with Agent Myers. Rasputin was dead, of that much Hellboy was certain. The deed had been done by his own hand after all. However, as many within the Bureau for Paranormal Research and Defence understood, dead did not always mean, well… dead. “C’mon, how do you know this asshole?” He demanded of the silent corpse he shook so disrespectfully.
“Um…” Agent Smith started, but quieted his nervous words when he saw his partner poised and calm, gun at the ready as he circled to a position more advantageous to offer Hellboy cover. Taking cue, he followed suit.
“Listen here, jerk…” Hellboy started on the limp body he held. He was never given the opportunity to finish his threat however, as the corpse suddenly opened its black eyes and screamed terribly. Seizing Hellboy by his throat, he heaved the mammoth sized man across the chamber like he was weightless. The rough crunch of his inhuman body crushing the stone for the force of the blow echoed through the corridors of the catacombs.
“Holy shit!” Agent Smith muttered. “Holy shit, is he always like this?” He asked his comrade, aghast.
“Pretty much.” Agent Johnson replied, cool and composed as he stepped forward next in Hellboy’s wake, squeezing the trigger and sending blessed bullets blasting holes through the screaming demon they had awakened.
“I hate Russians,” Hellboy muttered as he pulled himself from the Hellboy-shaped hole he had left in the stone of the chamber wall, brushing the rubble from his broad shoulders. Gun in hand, he rushed forward. Meanwhile, on the other side of Castle Khilkov, another radio crackled to life in a different Agent’s ear.
“Liz! Liz, are you there?”
“I’m here.” She answered, placing a hand on her comrade’s shoulder while the other touched a finger to the communication piece in her ear. Roger stopped alongside her, gesturing to the field agents in their unit to do the same.
“It’s Agent Myers, he’s taken off towards the far wing. We can’t reach him. Dr. Krauss needs someone to --”
“I’ll be right there.” Liz answered at once.
