The Universe's Mixer

Dean was a happy man. A very happy man. He was having his own special show of local talent. There was the Black Canary in her fishnets and leather corset, and she'd brought along some tasty guest dancers. The government agent who wore the tie with corset and so short skirt it shouldn't be one, and the brainy cutie who wore little more than an undersized lab coat. All were in some kickass heels, and all were dancing just for him.

The hunter didn't think twice about enjoying. Not even when one woman was his girlfriend, one was an ex of sorts, and one was edging day by day closer to sister than conquest interest. He just enjoyed the hotness before him.

Now and then Dinah would direct the other two women in how to please him, at least visually. There might have been a kiss or two, some hands roaming in ways they normally wouldn't, and it was all very good. Almost satisfying, as Dean was only allowed to watch the show. He didn't get involved.

He licked his lips, thinking of just what he might do with these women. Or more likely just one of these women. Especially when he got her all alone. For now, he just leaned back and enjoyed.

It took him by surprise every time he walked by the place where Beauty's cottage used to sit. It still sat there though the energy that the cottage used to emmitt was gone. It was, instead of being a place of real fairy tales and dreams, quaint and cute. In a sense, it was gone.

Abe didn't approach where Beauty had lived. Instead he walked by every day and paused to take note of the loss of the woman, the fairy tale woman who had so graciously and enthusiastically let him into her life.

Today, specifically, was a different sort of day. Today he had a side pack of all of his belongings gathered from his temporary residence at the park pond. In his webbed hands held the book Beauty had given him, Tennyson. Yet another loss to mark the long dead author's works. Who knew, though Abe, Tennyson himself might show up in The City one day. Perhaps he could get his book signed.

This day was different, though, because Abe finally decided to make the leap (no amphibious joke intended) to living in an actual structure. As petty as it seemed, he simply didn't feel sophisticated living in a pond. He had recently seen in the residential columns in The City paper a townhouse with a large bathtub and access to a saltwater pool.

If the stipend The City provided kept being as regular as it did he'd have no trouble keeping up the rent. He thought, maybe, for a moment he was settling here. As if he was giving up on finding a way back he had made himself far too at home with the idea of this...place as a permanent arrangement. And, indeed, maybe he'd put off getting a living arrangement beyond the stagnant pool water because of just that perception.

But he decided ultimately that, as the first Buddha, he needed to have no distractions of need to keep him centered. If he did figure out a way to leave the City or contact Hellboy, Liz, or anyone in his previous universe then he would be more likely to do so if he was well fed, well sheltered, and not hiding every time a family came by to go to the park. The stress wasn't worth it.

Abe sighed as he took one last glance at the quaint though lifeless cottage before heading on.

Freedom! Wonderful, glorious, stupendous freedom! Marvelous, open-air, kind of dark, but she was never afraid of the dark, not really, no much freedom! Okay, who was she kidding there were things that ate frogs even if she wasn't normally a frog and currently seemed to be a very big frog freedom! Plus, there were now hunters and who knew what else after her that maybe didn't want to eat her freedom!

Fred's elation from finally getting out of that apartment was tempered quickly, possibly all too quickly, by the realization that she'd only been freed from it because there were two very large men with guns kicking down her door. The former-human now-frog Texan had some problems, and she didn't know even where to start in fixing them.

Rather than wallow though, Fred used her rather powerful back legs to start hopping, leaps and bounds. She know got exactly what that meant. It was sort of fun, but scary too. That sick thud squish sound didn't do much for her honestly. The sound wasn't all that pleasant, not even a little bit.

She finally found her way to a "pond"; Fred supposed that made sense that she'd want to be near moisture, but the pond turned out to be something stagnant and probably very bad for her and whatever other creature or plant that was near it. She settled down by the water's edge and looked into the water. It was pretty yet not at all right. She supposed she should have known better as it was sitting in front of some restaurant touting itself as a gallery for the senses. Thankfully she could still read in this state. For all her thinking as she sat there, she didn't once consider the dangers of sitting in front of place that might want to serve very big purple frog's legs.

Backdated to December 25 at 5:30 pm

They'd spent all day preparing for Christmas dinner. The cottage itself was decorated inside and out. A fire crackled and roared merrily in the hearth. A lovely silver and blue tree quietly twinkled in the corner closest to the door. A larger-than-usual table took up most of the great room, and it was set to perfection with bright and creamy china, sparkling goblets, silverware that gleamed, poinsettias and pinecones and ham and mashed potatoes, tarts of every kind, salad, green bean casserole -- and oh, every holiday food imaginable! The wine selection was top-notch (after all, Beauty was French!), and the hostesses themselves were grinning ear to ear with excitement.


Under the tree, tiny presents waited - hostess gifts designed to surprise and delight!

At 5:30, Beauty went to the door and stood, bouncing on her toes, and waiting for the very first knock.

There were a couple of things Abraham was certain of in the City. One, Beauty was absolutely delightful and two, trying to sense the City's emotions gave him an enormous headache and a hangover worse than beer ever would. Fortunately, both of these effects were short lived.

A few days had passed and Abe was growing disgruntled at how at home he felt in this City shaped cage. The stresses of his previous life were not an issue here. He worried for Liz and the fate of the twins and the fate of his brother, Hellboy, but having surmised how little he could do to return to his universe he had become content to ride out whatever the City had planned for him.

One of his radios had gone off a couple of days ago with an announcement of missing residents. He didn't feel any attachment to the names so he did not think to look into it.

The pond where he resided was close to Beauty's cottage and he gave a glance to the French style house before heading into the City proper with his gloved hands behind his back. Having gotten used to the stares from others, he noticed they were beginning to get used to him. At least a little.

Though, still, a disguise might be nice. Maybe a coat...a costume beard...large brimmed hat. Might not be too difficult to find...

He eyed a clothing store pondering if he should enter.

At last! The library! Abraham Sapien had, in his short 30 some odd years of consciously living navigated hundreds of sewer systems, ran through more forests in the dark than he had cared to recall, and once found his way back to the BPRD van in the desert where there were no markers and while undergoing symptoms of supreme dehydration.

Never, in his life, had he had THIS much difficulty finding a location. And, if that weren't enough, his destination had been a library. Him, of all book loving amphibians, should have found this location days ago. It must of been The City, Abe decided as he entered the establishment. He ignored the gasps of what he had learned were called 'city borns' at his appearance and finally made it to a pretty girl at the desk.

"Excuse me, miss. You wouldn't happen to have a reference section to the history of The City available?" Abe asked hopefully.

"I am absolutely certain there is a library," Abe said as he roamed the streets of The City donned in his wet suit top, shorts, tool belt and boots. He held a shiny pamphlet in his hands studying the information for what seemed like the hundredth time.

He'd taken to spending his nights in the pond despite there being available vacancies at nearly every complex he passed and having money and credit cards appear in his tool belt. The whole thing befuddled him, actually, and he proceeded with trepidation with the apparent gifts using them only for essentials like food or...lotion.

He'd accidentally bought a lotion that smelled like roses so he was currently much more floral than he usually tended to be. He wasn't one to be vain over such things, but he didn't think it was at all manly to smell like a garden. Perhaps it was at least poetic. Roses did have thorns!

"I've already been here! Back there! Oh! This is infuriating! Sleeping in a place that is constantly littered with soggy bread, fast food containers, and shoes (for whatever reason)and I can't locate a library that is clearly listed as one of the amenities of The City in this pamphlet!" Abe exclaimed. He'd been searching for an hour now.

Abraham was relieved that people were staying away from him, at least. (Possibly due to his mad ranting.) If he saw one more pair of wide eyes just staring he would consider doing them a favor and poking them out!

On the long downtown street, the grand facade of the City Opera House glowed with light, hummed with excitement. Across its gleaming marble steps, all manners of beasts and birds and creatures of fantasy and myth climbed to enter the myriad doors. Across the doors, flung wide to the City this night, yards of red velvet lay in rich folds over the curved entrance archways and hung down the sides like blood. Running carpets of a matching color led the revelers into the opera house itself and directed them inside.

The Opera House itself was dressed for the occasion. The foyers, corridors, and adjoining rooms around the grand staircase had been divided into seven distinct 'rooms'. Six of the rooms were decorated and illuminated in a specific color: Blue, purple, green, orange, white, and violet. The last room was decorated in black and illuminated by a scarlet light. In this same room, a grand ebony clock stood, casting a foreboding pall.

Tables lined the back walls of each room, where polished tuxedos created and distributed all manners of cocktails. In the main ballroom - the white room - a standing orchestra played brilliant, glistening notes that carried throughout the opera house and invited all to join in dance. Along the sides, pristine waiters moved in and out carrying silver platters, some with hors d'oeuvres, some with bubbling champagne, some with deep red wine.

At precisely 8:30 p.m., the music turned screeching and sour. The lights dimmed, and from the depths of the black room, that great ebony clock tolled, strangely, on the half hour. From the grand staircase, came a figure dressed head to toe in red and black, with a death's head for a mask. As this figure descended, so too came a sense of dread and doom, and whispers filtered throughout the thrilling crowd:

-- The Red Death! -- Do not touch him! -- He's come for us! --

Just as the figure reached the bottom of the stairs, just as the shiver running through the crowd turned to something approaching panic, a single violin cried out a tense, shrill note, and a bass thrummed slow-building excitement. That figure held up his arms over the crowd, as if to curse them all. At once, from the crowd, came a single lady dressed in white, complete with wings and a halo. She ran to the base of the steps, and at once whipped off the mask and tossed it aside. From a nearby vase, and with an actress' flourish, she pulled a rose and tucked it into his lapel. The Red Death at once became that well known sinner Don Juan. He held out his hand to the single lady in white, that saint and angel who was his only love. And when his Christine was on his arm, the Opera Manager called out -- "Begin!"

At once, the lights crashed up, brighter than ever, and with them, the orchestra broke into vivid notes that dared every guest to forget their troubles and revel in the night.

After all, what was a ball at the Opera House without a little pageantry? The gala was off to a brilliant start, in true dramatic operatic style.

It made sense that she would be back in the park. There were fewer people, more to look at and less distractions. Tink knew were to find her. She seemed like a safe enough friend to have. Someone who wouldn't question her carefully constructed dream to keep the voices out. Her attempts at flying weren't going so well, but Oswin was curious as to what else the shuttle was capable of.

She parked by the bank of the pond, eyestalk pointed down at the water and stared. Oswin wasn't sure if the shuttle could survive underwater or if she would just drown. It seemed risky. But if she took it into the water in small increments, maybe she'd get readings and be able to back out before it was too late.

Only, when Oswin tried to slowly position herself in the water, she ended up hovering over the surface of the pond instead.

Alright, she thought to herself. That's slightly embarrassing.

( Abraham wasn't a fan of running from zombies. )