Aɴᴜɴɢ ᴜɴ Rᴀᴍᴀ ♕ Hᴇʟʟʙᴏʏ (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
histruename) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
tushanshu2013-02-08 02:00 am
histruename) wrote in tushanshu2013-02-08 02:00 am
[Video]
[It's been a while since Hellboy's shown his face. Not since the zombie attack. Truth be told, he hasn't felt all that social over the last week or so. Liz is gone again. He's not really sure how he feels about that. But her absence has got him thinking, and too much thinking lead to old habits that really do die hard. He spends most of the week at the bottom of a bottle holed up in his living room, staring at the intricate star chart that had been given to him by a stranger. Trying to make sense of things. Just trying to figure out how this fits into the big picture.
He thinks a lot about Liz, and the seed of an idea she planted just before she disappeared. She'd wanted to start some type of Bureau here, and maybe that wasn't such a bad idea. If there's one thing the Foreigners needed, it was organization. And if there was one thing Hellboy needed, it was a distraction. This could very well be a recipe for both.
Though he's dubious of his actual organizational skills. His strategy for everything was almost always to plunge in head-first without any kind of preparation. He was nothing like Bruttenholm or even Manning, but he could damn well try. He'll do it for Liz.
So he cleans himself up a little, or about as much as Hellboy ever does, and puts on his best game face. (Which, when your face is mostly stuck like that, is never hard.)
The feed starts with a steady silence and a level, golden-eyed gaze. Then he realizes the thing is actually on and begins.
Here goes nothin'...]
Anyone who knew her, Elizabeth Sherman disappeared about a week ago.
[He can't say for certain she's back in their world. There's no way of telling that for sure. He tries not to think about it too hard.]
Before she left she proposed getting together an organization similar to the one we worked for back in our world here on the Turtle. For anyone who's not familiar, I'll give you a quick run-down.
It's called the Bureau for Paranormal Research and Defense, an organization that studies the paranormal around the world and is responsible for fighting off any big nasties that might pop up in the meantime. Ghosts, demons, vampires, you name it.
Most of our employees are researchers, like to paw through rotting manuscripts and study trolls. Me... they just send me in when things get messy. Though I've trained plenty of new agents before.
I'm not really the administrative type. So if anyone's willing to help get this off the ground, I'd appreciate it. What we really need are people interested in the actual research end of things. Though field agents aren't a bad thing either.
I know a few people spoke to Liz in her first message. I'd like to speak to them again if I can. Just let me know if you're interested and what you might be able to bring to the table. Maybe we might start making sense of this place.
[Yeah, this sure won't be his father's Bureau, but it might be something.]
He thinks a lot about Liz, and the seed of an idea she planted just before she disappeared. She'd wanted to start some type of Bureau here, and maybe that wasn't such a bad idea. If there's one thing the Foreigners needed, it was organization. And if there was one thing Hellboy needed, it was a distraction. This could very well be a recipe for both.
Though he's dubious of his actual organizational skills. His strategy for everything was almost always to plunge in head-first without any kind of preparation. He was nothing like Bruttenholm or even Manning, but he could damn well try. He'll do it for Liz.
So he cleans himself up a little, or about as much as Hellboy ever does, and puts on his best game face. (Which, when your face is mostly stuck like that, is never hard.)
The feed starts with a steady silence and a level, golden-eyed gaze. Then he realizes the thing is actually on and begins.
Here goes nothin'...]
Anyone who knew her, Elizabeth Sherman disappeared about a week ago.
[He can't say for certain she's back in their world. There's no way of telling that for sure. He tries not to think about it too hard.]
Before she left she proposed getting together an organization similar to the one we worked for back in our world here on the Turtle. For anyone who's not familiar, I'll give you a quick run-down.
It's called the Bureau for Paranormal Research and Defense, an organization that studies the paranormal around the world and is responsible for fighting off any big nasties that might pop up in the meantime. Ghosts, demons, vampires, you name it.
Most of our employees are researchers, like to paw through rotting manuscripts and study trolls. Me... they just send me in when things get messy. Though I've trained plenty of new agents before.
I'm not really the administrative type. So if anyone's willing to help get this off the ground, I'd appreciate it. What we really need are people interested in the actual research end of things. Though field agents aren't a bad thing either.
I know a few people spoke to Liz in her first message. I'd like to speak to them again if I can. Just let me know if you're interested and what you might be able to bring to the table. Maybe we might start making sense of this place.
[Yeah, this sure won't be his father's Bureau, but it might be something.]
video;
[WHAT KIND OF QUESTION IS THAT!?
Please tell him he heard that question wrong. Because this? Pisses him off.]
video;
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And it's times like these he's glad his skin's already red because there is a hell of a lot of embarrassment going on here. That, and he's just pissed the hell off.]
I don't see how that's any of your damn business, pal.
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You're like.. a red Smurf. A red Hefty Smurf.
[He practically cuts himself off as a new thought emerges.] Did someone make you or were you born?
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[Don't mind him. He's just... randomly mashing buttons. How do you turn this damn thing off? Son of a - !
Screw it.
He raises that massive stone hand and ---
The feed cuts off.
On the other side of the monitor, Hellboy stomps away from the rubble of his obliterated console. The thing was just a pain in his ass anyway.
He really needs a drink.]