From the Vault: Arriving in Bete Noire
This was originally a writing sample submitted as part of Hellboy's application to Bete Noire. Since it represents a scene otherwise absent from the history of this particular portrayal of the character, it is presented and preserved here.
Morgan Le Fay's Castle
2009
Hellboy stood in the pool of water, looking down at the rock with the sword sticking out of it. Even in the nighttime air, the pool glowed slightly, and he could feel the sword calling to him through the bond of his bloodline. He couldn't say how long he stood there, the tails of the tattered robe he wore getting increasingly soaked. He knew Vasilisa -- little, beautiful Vasilisa: a doll who was also a girl with a mind quick enough to help a guy escape the Baba Yaga -- was waiting for him back on land, and he thought he could maybe sense another, less welcome presence a little further out. Finally, he reached out his left hand, thinking again of what Vasilisa had just said to him:
"Why can't you believe what she believed? Forget armies and saving the world -- she knew you. She believed the sword would save you. She believed you were worth saving."
Alice. It had been years since they'd seen each other, but in the span of just a couple of days, they'd gone through so much and had grown so close. He couldn't even really say for sure what they'd become to each other, but he'd had some ideas, and had hoped they'd be able to discuss them after this crazy adventure was over. But now he'd never have that chance: her charred bones lay in her bed, a casualty of the bizarre and disturbing fight he'd had with an evil twin that had popped out of a mirror. It still felt slightly unreal -- hell, he still wasn't entirely sure just what exactly had happened -- but he also felt like there wasn't any more time to waste. If Alice was dead, then for what might have been, for her belief in him, he had to at least try.
Stupid thing probably won't come out, anyway, he thought as he finally took hold of the sword's grip. To his surprise, the blade slid free of the sword easily, ringing with a high, clear, pure tone.
"Son of a..."
For just a moment, it looked like he was suddenly back in the green, sunny brightness of Ireland. Startled, he had just enough time to look behind him and see Alice, apparently alive and well, sitting on the ground with a confused look on her face. Then the scenery changed again, and this time he was alone, and it was nighttime in an entirely unfamiliar forest. Hellboy turned again, once, twice, hoping it would bring him back where he was, or at least looking for anything he could recognize. When nothing happened, it took him a moment to get his temper under control, but then he looked up and shouted at the sky.
"Okay! Which one of you guys is screwing around with me now?! Morgan? Mab? As--" He remembered a couple of different reasons why he shouldn't invoke Astaroth's name. "Asshole?" Good enough.
Nothing. Hellboy looked around again, then added in a quieter voice, "...Anyone?" He briefly wondered if he maybe imagined the whole thing, but no, he still had Excalibur in hand. His hearing was decent, but it wasn't superhuman, so he put his oversized right hand to the side of his head, cupped to focus any sound into his straining ear. After a few moments, he thought he heard... traffic?! Sure enough, as he followed the sound, he came out of the forest and found a city waiting for him. A big city, for that matter, the likes of which he hadn't seen in years, its buildings throwing off enough light for him to see his surroundings easily.
"Well. How 'bout that." He leaned first the sword, then himself against the nearest tree and started rifling through his pockets. When he'd approached the sword, he was wearing a robe, but in being sent... wherever he was now, it had mysteriously been replaced with his old duster, repaired to tip-top condition. Some last sorry your life is fucked present from one of his surprise, suspicious benefactors? Whatever, he didn't care, as long as they also provided a pack of cigarettes...
What his hand came on instead was a solid, hard block of what felt like plastic and metal that he was pretty sure hadn't been there before. He pulled it out and looked it. It was... some sort of mobile phone, maybe, if he had to make his guess. It was so long since he last carried anything of the sort that he had no idea of the state of the art, but it looked pretty nice.
"And where did you come from?"
Bete Noire
13 March 2011
--END--
Morgan Le Fay's Castle
2009
Hellboy stood in the pool of water, looking down at the rock with the sword sticking out of it. Even in the nighttime air, the pool glowed slightly, and he could feel the sword calling to him through the bond of his bloodline. He couldn't say how long he stood there, the tails of the tattered robe he wore getting increasingly soaked. He knew Vasilisa -- little, beautiful Vasilisa: a doll who was also a girl with a mind quick enough to help a guy escape the Baba Yaga -- was waiting for him back on land, and he thought he could maybe sense another, less welcome presence a little further out. Finally, he reached out his left hand, thinking again of what Vasilisa had just said to him:
"Why can't you believe what she believed? Forget armies and saving the world -- she knew you. She believed the sword would save you. She believed you were worth saving."
Alice. It had been years since they'd seen each other, but in the span of just a couple of days, they'd gone through so much and had grown so close. He couldn't even really say for sure what they'd become to each other, but he'd had some ideas, and had hoped they'd be able to discuss them after this crazy adventure was over. But now he'd never have that chance: her charred bones lay in her bed, a casualty of the bizarre and disturbing fight he'd had with an evil twin that had popped out of a mirror. It still felt slightly unreal -- hell, he still wasn't entirely sure just what exactly had happened -- but he also felt like there wasn't any more time to waste. If Alice was dead, then for what might have been, for her belief in him, he had to at least try.
Stupid thing probably won't come out, anyway, he thought as he finally took hold of the sword's grip. To his surprise, the blade slid free of the sword easily, ringing with a high, clear, pure tone.
"Son of a..."
For just a moment, it looked like he was suddenly back in the green, sunny brightness of Ireland. Startled, he had just enough time to look behind him and see Alice, apparently alive and well, sitting on the ground with a confused look on her face. Then the scenery changed again, and this time he was alone, and it was nighttime in an entirely unfamiliar forest. Hellboy turned again, once, twice, hoping it would bring him back where he was, or at least looking for anything he could recognize. When nothing happened, it took him a moment to get his temper under control, but then he looked up and shouted at the sky.
"Okay! Which one of you guys is screwing around with me now?! Morgan? Mab? As--" He remembered a couple of different reasons why he shouldn't invoke Astaroth's name. "Asshole?" Good enough.
Nothing. Hellboy looked around again, then added in a quieter voice, "...Anyone?" He briefly wondered if he maybe imagined the whole thing, but no, he still had Excalibur in hand. His hearing was decent, but it wasn't superhuman, so he put his oversized right hand to the side of his head, cupped to focus any sound into his straining ear. After a few moments, he thought he heard... traffic?! Sure enough, as he followed the sound, he came out of the forest and found a city waiting for him. A big city, for that matter, the likes of which he hadn't seen in years, its buildings throwing off enough light for him to see his surroundings easily.
"Well. How 'bout that." He leaned first the sword, then himself against the nearest tree and started rifling through his pockets. When he'd approached the sword, he was wearing a robe, but in being sent... wherever he was now, it had mysteriously been replaced with his old duster, repaired to tip-top condition. Some last sorry your life is fucked present from one of his surprise, suspicious benefactors? Whatever, he didn't care, as long as they also provided a pack of cigarettes...
What his hand came on instead was a solid, hard block of what felt like plastic and metal that he was pretty sure hadn't been there before. He pulled it out and looked it. It was... some sort of mobile phone, maybe, if he had to make his guess. It was so long since he last carried anything of the sort that he had no idea of the state of the art, but it looked pretty nice.
"And where did you come from?"
Bete Noire
13 March 2011
--END--