Hellboy: Odd Jobs

by Christopher Golden

  Another thirty years had passed. Thirty very hard years. Hellboy's memory didn't fit the senator before him.

  Commander Freedom had been nothing but muscle when he had fought the war. It was hard to see those strong lines now in Lipton's fallen face.

  Hellboy had visited the senator once before, maybe a dozen years back. He had seen the first faint signs of age even then, the graying hair, the worry lines. That time, they had talked about how the world had changed.

  And Lipton had spoken about how he had succeeded in the world of politics.

  "You learn to bend, or you will get nothing done," he said at the time. "So different from the war."

  But now Lipton

  the former Commander Freedom

  had a new war on his hands. And Hellboy would be

  his soldier.

  Hellboy listened as one after another of those at the table recalled the incidents always disquieting,

  sometimes violent

  that had been occurring with increasing frequency in these halls. Name calling, screaming matches, fist fights, even a bomb scare and a hostage situation. All unfortunate, each one seemingly an isolated incident, until you looked at them together, with those events already reported in the media, and saw the rising level of strife.

  "I think you do have reason to be concerned," Hellboy replied when the others were done, "but nothing you've said so far has given me a clue as to what it is." Actually, he had some idea of what was happening here, but he wasn't sure if the others at the table, Lipton included, would be ready to hear about it. He had to learn more. He needed a delaying tactic to allow him time to further explore the problem.

  "Maybe," he suggested, "if we evacuated the government buildings, one after another

  "

  "What?" Senator Shorter would have none of that. "You are talking about the US government here! You want us to stop running the country while you chase your fool notions?"

  Hellboy smiled. "Only a suggestion."

  "And if that is the level of suggestion we're going to receive, I'd say you've already wasted far too much of the government's time!" Shorter rose from his chair, a sure sign that, for him, the meeting was over.

  "If I might make a suggestion?" Ms. Gibbons asked. "We could arrange for Hellboy to take a tour of the other sites. I'd look forward to whatever else he might discover."

  "The meeting is over!" Shorter insisted. "I have other business!"

  "As our distinguished colleague said," Ms. Gibbons agreed with a sigh. She rose from her chair as well.

  Hellboy frowned down at his old friend. All of Lipton's energy seemed to desert him the moment the meeting adjourned. He stared at the table with half-closed eyes, as if only waiting for death.

  Hellboy realized that that was why it was so important to be here now. He and Lipton, fighting together one last time, with words rather than fists, but it was a good fight nonetheless.

  Commander Freedom wasn't dead yet.

  Lipton shook his head slowly. "Sorry, Hellboy. I thought I could get them to understand."

  "Some of them did," Hellboy replied softly. "Maybe the others will come around."

  Lipton nodded and rose with a groan. "Back to the office. We need to discuss strategy."

  No, Hellboy thought. If what he guessed were true, this had passed the discussion stage.

  "If you'll excuse me, senator, I think I might be able help." Hellboy walked over to stand next to the departing Shorter. "Wait."

  The senator looked both surprised and uncomfortable.

  "You're going to hound us, aren't you?" Shorter demanded.

  "But Senator

  ," Hellboy objected mildly.

  "How blind can you be?" Shorter demanded. "All of you!"

  Hellboy decided that Shorter was almost in the proper mood. He stepped forward. "Senator? There's one thing we need to clear up. If I might have a moment of your time?"

  "What?" Shorter glared at him, his hands shaking with rage. "I thought I made it quite clear in the meeting

  " He stopped abruptly, pushing past Hellboy and heading for the exit.

  Hellboy followed at his heels until both of them were out in the hall. He stepped nimbly to Shorter's side.

  "But it's because of the meeting that I need to talk to you. Well, not the meeting exactly. It has more to do with what I felt in the meeting, and what I felt as you were leaving."

  Shorter stopped mid-stride to turn his anger back at his pursuer. Some of the others from the meeting room had gathered around, drawn by the conflict. Hellboy would have to be careful that no one got hurt.

  Shorter's eyes were wide, his whole body shaking now. "Leave me alone! I will have you thrown from the building!"

  Hellboy smiled. "Or should I say, 'What I didn't feel'?"

  Shorter's head jerked to one side. "Is that an accusation?"

  Hellboy took a step closer. "I would say it is more a statement of fact."

  "I resent

  I

  " His head jerked left, then right again. "I

  I will not have you meddling

  I

  I

  " He

  started to jerk so severely that he appeared to lose the power of speech.

  Hellboy lifted his more-human hand toward Shorter. "Senator, I've seen this kind of possession before. You're not in control of your own actions."

  "In control?" His voice was much higher pitched than before, and didn't seem to come from his mouth. "I'll show you who's in

  control."

  Hellboy lifted the hand that looked like a hammer. "C'mere, you."

  "Control!" The old man shook so rapidly, he seemed to blur. Smoke rose above the senator, like a cloud appearing in midair. "Control!"

  The cloud gained eyes, then a face, then shoulders and arms and hands and talons. Demons had no practice with direct confrontation. Detecting the creatures was sometimes difficult, but Hellboy never had a problem calling them out.

  "Attack him!" the cloud screamed.

  Hellboy was ready.

  "Attack!" the cloud demon wailed again.

  Hellboy realized then the cloud was calling to others. He took a step away from the smoke ghost to survey the hallway.

  Others around them were shaking in much the same manner as the senator. The man from the CIA, the representative from the Navy, even the clerk from the Supreme Court. The possession was quite widespread.

  Lipton was right to have involved him. Only Hellboy could save them now.

  "Hellboy," one of the new smoke ghosts screamed. "You have meddled with our kind long enough!"

  The others added to the high-pitched chatter:

  "We have found a home!"

  "We will not be displaced!"

  "We will destroy you first!"

  Hellboy heard shouting down the hall. A pair of armed policemen ran towards them down the corridor.

  Hellboy had dealt with these kinds of creatures before. All the cops could do was get themselves hurt or killed.

  "Back!" he called to the pair. "Bullets won't do a damn thing."

  The cops hesitated. Hellboy would have to act quickly. He studied the smoke ghosts, trying to determine their nature, and how best to destroy them. Under their cries he heard another noise their life energy perhaps

  not so much a heartbeat, more like the sighing of the wind.

  The ghost from within the senator floated closer.

  If one attacked, Hellboy knew, it would be a signal for all.

  "We are everywhere," the ghost moaned.

  Hellboy glanced away for an instant and saw another half-dozen of those at the meeting blurring as clouds formed over them. It was more than simple possession, it was an infestation.

  Very well. Hellboy would fight them all. He would defeat them with something they understood the

  strength of Hell.

  "We will take Hellboy!" The first ghost swept toward him. Hellboy jumped away. The thing's talons felt like ice where they brushed against his chest. He gr
abbed the ghost as it passed, its substance like cotton in his hands, and pulled the head from its shoulders.

  Its shriek of fury was cut short. The cloud dispersed like water vapor in the sun.

  But all the other smoke demons cried in anguish.

  "Not the American way!"

  "Hellboy is an interloper!"

  "The will of the people!"

  "Hellboy must die!"

  "Not the right demographic!"

  "Destroy! Destroy!"

  They swarmed towards him, close to a dozen strong. His hammer hand punched a hole in the first to arrive.

  The ghost staggered back, its talons frantically scraping the ragged cloud-stuff back into place. Hellboy calmly pulled its head from its body before it could finish repairs.

  The remaining creatures grew even more frantic.

  "Noooooo!"

  "We need life!"

  Ten of the creatures surrounded him now.

  "Strife gives us energy!"

  They pressed in on every side. They joined together as the ring tightened. He was surrounded by a circle of fog.

  "We will take you!"

  They would all attack at once. He pushed at the cloud stuff, tightening like a noose. The smoke spread through his fingers. He could not grasp it properly.

  "He is a most perfect specimen," the ghosts cried.

  "He has so much energy to drain."

  He struck out again. His fists felt like they were moving in slow motion.

  "We cannot enter!" one cried.

  "We will find a way!" another retorted.

  "What are you made of, Hellboy?" a third asked. "Snips and snails and puppy dogs' tails?"

  Its laughter was muffled as the cloud stuff closed around Hellboy's head. He would drown in the stuff. He had to find some way to break free.

  He had trouble even grabbing them, and they seemed to have a similar problem with him. If he just moved quickly enough ...

  Hellboy launched himself with his powerful legs, whirling about as quickly as he could, once, twice, three times!

  "Noooooo!" The smoke things spun away, breaking apart to their individual forms.

  Hellboy moved quickly then, shredding the rest of the insubstantial forms with a combination of speed and brute strength. In less than a minute, the cloud things were gone.

  He looked around, expecting some further attack. But the corridor was quiet. The two cops still stood some distance away. Both of them stared open-mouthed. Everyone else seemed to have fallen, unconscious, to the floor, as the demons inhabiting them had risen to the attack.

  Everyone.

  Hellboy realized that Senator Lipton was one of the fallen.

  Hellboy heard a series of groans from the floor. A couple of the younger victims sat up.

  Hellboy rushed over to Lipton, and knelt by his side.

  "Hellboy," the senator whispered. "Lift me up a bit so I can see you."

  Hellboy gently placed a hand behind Lipton's head and lifted his head and shoulders off the floor.

  Lipton tried to smile. "We sure had some battles, didn't we?" He drew a ragged breath.

  Hellboy struggled to understand. "What happened, Senator?"

  Lipton closed his eyes for a moment. "I could not admit it to myself not consciously." Lipton's voice grew

  even more hoarse. "I let them inside. One compromise too many. I think they were all that was keeping me alive. A deal with the devil, hey?"

  His eyes fluttered again.

  "Senator?" Hellboy called. "We'll get help."

  Lipton smiled again. "I feel a peace I had forgotten."

  He was quiet for a moment after that.

  "Senator?" Hellboy called again.

  "Call me Freedom," the senator whispered.

  His breathing stopped, his eyes staring somewhere beyond this world.

  Hellboy lowered him gently to the floor.

  Commander Freedom had won his final battle.

  Hellboy looked around the hallway.

  The others were pushing themselves back to their feet. Most of them looked confused, but no one seemed to be in pain. The younger and stronger would easily revive. Even Senator Shorter, still spread out on the floor, only seemed to be sleeping peacefully, his chest rising and falling, a slight smile on his lips.

  Hellboy didn't feel like smiling.

  He was drawn to confront these things day after day. As close as they had come, the creatures had not been able to overwhelm him. Perhaps he was immune. Or perhaps such things lived in him already, only waiting for the proper moment to appear.

  The others were not so lucky. Every person in that meeting, all movers and shakers in the government, had harbored these secret creatures within. If this was any indication, the demons were everywhere in this place.

  "I think I might have to do some further investigation," Hellboy called to the others.

  This time, he got no arguments.

  "Ms. Gibbons? What say we start with the oval office?"

  Hellboy had some work to do.

  A Grim Fairy Tale

  Nancy A. Collins

  He was nursing his second cup of coffee when Liz Sherman walked into the conference room with the early edition tucked under her arm. "Have you looked at the morning paper?" she asked.

  "No. Should I?" he grunted, arching an eyebrow.

  "See for yourself," she replied, tossing the newspaper so it slid half the length of the table.

  Even if he didn't have eyesight many times keener than average, he still could have made out the headlines from across the room:

  Who's Hizzoner Gonna Call?

  Mayor Taps BPRD For Missing Tots Case!

  "Great," he growled, flashing a fang in disgust. "Who let the cat out of the bag?"

  Liz shrugged. "It's the Big Apple

  I'd rather fight poltergeists with Attention Deficit Disorder than get involved with the press in this town."

  He sighed and, despite his better judgment, reached out to draw the tabloid closer for further inspection, setting aside his coffee in order to use his left hand. Using his right hand was not an option, as that particular appendage was only good for pile-driving or crushing cinderblocks, since it was made of living stone and disproportionately large for his body. The overall visual effect was not unlike that of a gibbon wearing a solitary boxing glove.

  Then again, when it came to the rest of his body, none of it was exactly what anyone would mistake for

  'normal', at least not outside of Dante's Inferno. Standing over seven feet, weighing in at close to five hundred pounds, with bright scarlet skin, cloven hooves, and a long, prehensile tail that looked like a cross between a lizard's and a monkey's, he certainly fit the only name he had ever known the only name he had, to his

  memory, ever been called:

  Hellboy.

  He scanned the newspaper article, which was long on hysteria but short on real news, typical for the tabloids.

  The only thing of real interest was the side bar, which featured pictures of the missing children twelve

  total, so far.

  It was clear, despite the overheated prose, that New Yorkers were genuinely worked up over the disappearances. While such concern might seem odd for a city that prided itself on its history of indifference, there were several factors that made it an emotionally volatile situation: First, the age of the missing children none older than six years; second, they had all been taken from Central Park, the city's most sacred reprieve from the concrete and glass that surrounds it; third, the abductions all happened in broad daylight, within feet of the children's parents or guardians; fourth, all the children were from good, upper-income families and were well cared for, even pampered; fifth, no ransom note had been received by any of the families in the six weeks since the disappearances began, giving the distinct impression that the motivation for the kidnappings was depraved, not financial. Someone was stealing the children of Midtown Manhattan, and now, four days after the twelfth child was plucked by unseen hands from on
e of the gaily painted horses on the Carousel, there was finally some evidence that pointed to a paranormal force behind it all.

  Which was why Hellboy and the others from the Bureau for Paranormal Research and Defense had choppered in at the crack of dawn from their headquarters in nearby Fairfield, Connecticut to meet with the mayor at Gracie Mansion. Who had yet to show.

  Typical. Hurry up and wait. Hellboy grunted.

  Suddenly the doors to the conference room flew open and the Mayor entered, flanked by several of his aides and a personal secretary, and Professor Bruttenholm at his elbow. The mayor looked like a man trying to eat breakfast, finish dressing, and call his office for messages all at the same time. It was occasions like these that Hellboy was glad his job only required him to fight monsters.

  "Look, Mitch

  I don't care what you think, the Sanitation Workers' Union has our nuts in a vise and they know it!" The mayor barked into the cordless phone while giving his tie a final adjustment. "Life in this city is a big enough pain in the ass as it is without commuters crawling over trash bags to and from work. And let's not get into the tourist thing! Let the Budgetary Committee squawk! I refuse to have a garbage strike on my watch, and that's final! You don't make it to the Governor's mansion on a mountain of disposable diapers.

  Look

  I got other things to worry about right now. I'll get back to you on this later." Rolling his eyes in frustration, the mayor closed his phone and handed it back to one of his aides. "I'm so sorry to keep you waiting."

  Hellboy rose from his seat, extending his left hand to the Mayor. "That's perfectly understandable, Mr. Mayor

  ... "

  A true politician, Hizzoner didn't even blink as he shook the hand offered him.

  "I'm honored to make your acquaintance, Mr. Hellboy."

  "Just Hellboy, sir," he explained, returning to his seat, which groaned uneasily under his immense weight.

  Professor Bruttenholm coughed dryly into his fist. The old man was physically quite frail after all, he was

  well into his nineties

  but the fire in his eyes belied whatever physical shortcomings his age had brought him. As the Bureau's founder and Hellboy's foster father, Trevor Bruttenholm was still a force to be reckoned with.

  "I had my men sweep the area where the last abduction is reported to have taken place. The spectrogram results indicate without a doubt that occult energy was expended at the sight. Whatever is stealing these children is of a paranormal nature."