The interior of the woodland cottage was small, but accommodating, complete with a small kitchen and a fully furnished living room. The floor of the main hallway was layered with an ornate, tattered rug, displaying an image of a barn owl resting on a black tree branch. To the right, a narrow staircase rose upwards, leading to the single bedroom. The three men stepped gingerly through the hallway, Hellboy subconsciously wiping his hooves on the doormat before proceeding. He winced as he accidentally knocked one of his horns against an ensconced wall light, the glass ringing.

"Sure is roomy…" he grumbled, having to duck his head slightly to avoid the low hanging ceiling. They followed the sound of the angry footsteps preceding them into the living room, which was furnished with two cloth sofas and a shiny, wooden coffee table. Potted plants occupied almost every free surface in the living room, giving the interior a very natural feel. Roger grinned broadly, and had to restrain himself from introducing himself to each of the leafy decorations. As the three entered the living room, Hellboy stumbled into Roger's back, for the first two had stopped suddenly and were staring at the contents of a small loveseat resting in the corner.

Sitting in the cloth, floral-print chair, was a very small child. Hellboy furrowed his brow, and looked confusedly at Andras, hoping the man's expression would provide some sort of answer, but the other looking just as mystified as him. The child was smaller than any nine-year-old Hellboy had ever seen. Dwarfed by the loveseat, the child's feet dangled in front of her, and the bones in her legs appeared knobby and pronounced. She had her hands, the size of soup spoons, crossed in her lap, and her thick, black hair was just short enough to reveal her enormous, piercing eyes. Her blue irises appeared as glowing discs in the subdued lighting of the salon, contrasting against the placid, dark voids of her pupils. Her eyes bore deeply into each of them in turn, but despite the intensity of her gaze, she appeared quite bored.

Roger shifted uncomfortably. To Hellboy, he whispered, "I'm not sure how I feel about this."

"Yeah, me too," the other whispered back. He could not help but notice that, true to Andras's account, the child had six fingers on each hand.

The woman motioned irritably at the couches, and then crossed her arms. "Ül," she barked. Andras looked to the other two, and nodded as he moved towards one of the couches. Hellboy and Roger followed, carefully maneuvering their bulky forms through the miniscule living space until they too were seated. Andras, trying to remain inconspicuous, tried to look back at the woman when he could, and could see that her brow was spotted with sweat, and she appeared very nervous. Hellboy kept his attention on the little girl, his apprehension only increasing as she unwaveringly gazed back at him. I've got a weird feeling about this kid... he thought to himself.

"So, listen…" he began, still looking at the child. Before he could continue, the woman cut him off.

"Tudom, miért vagy itt," she said. Her voice was low and, despite her wilting exterior, was full of conviction and intent. Hellboy broke off his staring contest with the girl in order to look to the woman. He almost flinched as he met her gaze, for he knew that she was absolutely furious. "Beszélni akar vele."

Andras's hands trembled as he sat up a little farther in the sofa, and turned to Roger and Hellboy. "A-Ah...she says she knows that we have come to speak to the girl," he informed them, nodding towards the child.

Roger smiled. "Oh, that's good. We are all on the same page, then," he said. He looked to the girl, and withered slightly as he saw her expression; not only did she appear utterly devoid of enjoyment towards the situation, but she seemed quite resentful. He shuffled his feet together, and folded his hands in his lap. "Oh, my...I hope she isn't upset with us," he said quietly.

"I am not upset with you, stone man." The voice surprised all of them; their faces marred by disbelief, they turned their eyes to the girl. She smiled placatingly, however her eyes remained unchanged; cold and reproachful. The woman stared in shock at her daughter, her eyes bulging and her mouth gaping as though her mind were moving too fast to speak. The little girl held up a hand to stop the woman. "Ne beszélj, anya," she said. "I knew they would come."

The woman, struggling to understand but nodding nevertheless, shakily took a seat next to Andras on the sofa. His suit squeaked slightly as she sat, and his body stiffened at her presence. Hellboy saw, and rolled his eyes. C'mon, man, pull it together... he thought derisively.

Hellboy returned his attention to the little girl, and saw that she was already looking at him. Struggling to suppress his apprehensiveness, he said, "So, you can speak English?"

The girl smiled slightly. "Yes. I can communicate with all organisms on this Earth," she explained. "I am sure you already know why this is."

Andras appeared to be trembling violently, his facial expression a mixture of jubilation and nervous excitement. "Then it is true!" he stammered. "You are...you…"

"Yes." she finished for him. "I am a táltos."

Andras was briefly too shocked to move or speak, but then stood up rapidly and guffawed, holding his rubber-clad arms high into the air. His celebration was cut short when, looking down, he saw that the woman was almost withering into the sofa. She looked defeated, as though she had known this was coming and all of her attempts to stave off the inevitable had been for nought. He stopped, and abruptly returned to his seat. Clearing his throat, he spoke again. "Ah, so...it really is true, then." He leaned forward, as though he were trying to become closer to the child in any way. "But...please, forgive me, asszony... but were you not born nine years ago in Vasvár?" He swallowed nervously. They all had gathered that this was not a being you wanted to upset. "You could not be any larger than a three or four-year old."

The child's thin, dark lips appeared pinched, and she blinked slowly as she gazed at Andras. Despite having barely moved, she gave off the appearance of being exasperated. "Due to my condition… " she began. "My body has developed differently than a normal child's might. Or, maybe it would be better to say...that my body has not developed. While my mind, and my spirit are more vast than any being on this Earth, my body is hopelessly frail." She smiled thinly. "You are correct, though, Tóth úr." As Roger watched Andras, he could see the man flinch, and that he was incredibly uncomfortable, albeit interested. "Yes, I am aware of your surname. I am sure you know that I am aware of many things." She smiled broadly, her tiny, children's teeth shining like pearlescent pebbles of hail against a dark, stormy sky. For the first time, Hellboy remarked, she appeared entertained.

"I bet you probably know why we're here, then," the half-demon intoned, his harsh voice startling the woman out of her fugue. She looked at him sharply, having not understood what he had said, but watched him carefully. He met her gaze, and flicked his eyebrows up and down jokingly, hoping to get her to relax a little. Her face only bended slightly into a snarl. Hellboy huffed, and slouched in his seat.

The child smiled again, and steepled her fingers together as she once again looked to each of them in turn. "Where are my manners?" she said, her melodic voice sounding almost as if it were coming from a doll. "My name is Alma. And she…" She gestured to her mother. "...is Annuska." Recognizing her name, the woman straightened herself, but did not speak.

Andras smiled nervously. "I must say, it is... very nice to meet you, Alma...my name is Andras, and this…" He gestured to Hellboy and Roger.

"Hellboy." Alma's voice startled them again, and Hellboy met her gaze with surprise. She was smiling knowingly at him, and the half-demon could feel her scrutiny through her eyes, as if she were searching his entire self despite already knowing everything that could be found therein. "I know who you are."

Hellboy scoffed. "Great, join the freakin' club." He waved his large right hand dismissively. "I'm famous, even in Hungary ."

"I'm Roger…" the Homunculus said softly, a little miffed that he had not gotten an opportunity to introduce himself. He was paid no attention.

"You are famous everywhere," Alma responded. "At least, with those who are like us, you are."

Hellboy narrowed his eyes. "'Like us'?" he asked.

The girl nodded in response. "Those who are special. Different." Hellboy noticed that a trickle of resentment had crept into her tone. "You and I…" she whispered. Once again, her enormous, iridescent eyes met his. "We are not of them." Her voice was like vapor, filling the room and the space around Hellboy. Her eyes held him in place, and he shifted uncomfortably as he felt indelibly stuck to them. It was as though all else fell away, leaving only those blue eyes behind as she spoke to him. Her face, like a dark disc floating in the void before him, mirrored his own deep-rooted resentments and insecurities. In that moment, he inexplicably felt connected to her. Unable to look away, he felt goosebumps lining the skin on his arms as her mouth opened, and resting there on her tongue was the first fatal sound to the name of the Destroyer, the Name to End All Names…

"Elég." The woman, who had recently been identified as Annuska, spoke; her voice cut through Hellboy's mind like a knife, and, shaking, he was freed from Alma's oppressive grasp. The void fell away, and the vapor dispersed; he was once again sitting next to Roger on the sofa. The child made a tsk sound in annoyance, and moved her eyes away from Hellboy. Roger and Andras were looking at him with concern, and the half-demon quickly composed himself.

Sighing, Alma crossed her legs together, and turned her attention to Andras. "Your friends and your neighbors are all ill…" she said purposefully. Despite being no larger than a porcelain doll, her level of composure was surprising to the suited man. She exuded power in everything that she did. "Correct?" She smiled.

Andras gaped, and chuckled nervously. "Ah...how did you know?" he asked.

"Like I said…" she responded. "I know things."

Roger nodded thoughtfully, and placed his fingers against his chin. "You are very smart for a nine-year-old," he said.

Alma turned to him, and smiled; Hellboy felt as though her expression was slightly condescending. "Thank you, stone man," she said.

Roger shifted slightly, and frowned. "Just Roger is fine."

"So am I correct…" Alma began again, dismissing Roger as she turned her attention back to Andras. "...that you require my help with the people of Vasvár?" Her melodic voice was the only sound in the whole of the room, save for the the sound of Annuska's knuckles cracking as she tightly gripped the fabric of the couch.

"Yes," Andras responded, imploringly. "Yes, you are correct. That is why we -" he gestured to Hellboy and Roger. "-have come to see you, to ask of you...the táltos, if you will help us." He was sweating at his brow, and Hellboy could not tell if it was from his nerves or the hot biohazard suit he was still wearing from the neck down.

Alma's attitude changed rapidly, and she went from being a placating, bored superior to an angry, resentful plaintiff. "You must also be aware, then…" she snarled, her ferocious expression contrasting darkly against her childlike features. "...that the people of Vasvár exiled my mother and I those years ago, and forced us to live here in the woods, as animals?" Her voice was deep, and her hatred was nearly tangible. Andras shrank back into the couch, suddenly appearing fearful underneath the knife-edge of her gaze. "And you… small, rubber man...would have me help these people?" She did not get up from the seat, but sat as tall as she could, but still appeared to tower over all of them.

Sheesh… Hellboy thought. Somebody get this kid a booster seat… "Yup." In place of Andras, who was still cowering, Hellboy responded. "Do ya mind?" Alma's impossibly resentful stare flicked to him momentarily, and then moved to her mother Annuska. She was looking at her daughter thoughtfully, and seemed to understand what had occurred despite not being able to understand English. They spoke to each other briefly in Hungarian, and then Annuska crossed her dark arms together and looked down at the ground. Alma also appeared thoughtful for a moment.

After a time, she spoke. "I don't have a full understanding of my powers," she said quietly. The confession seemed difficult for her. "But I have healed smaller things before. I can help things grow-" she gestured to the potted plants around her. They almost appeared to stretch their leaves and boughs towards her, as if absorbing something she emitted. "-but never on such a large scale." Andras leaned forward as he listened to her, and Annuska also watched her intently. "But...perhaps the people of Vasvár will realize their guilt once they see what I can do?" She smiled mischievously.

Andras smiled as well, and whooped loudly, startling Annuska. He dove forward off of the couch, and knelt before Alma, who shrank back from him in distaste. Placing his hands on either side of her, he looked into her eyes and nearly wept as he said, "thank you, Alma asszony... you do not know how happy this has made me! You are going to save our city!" He dashed the moisture away from his eyes, and Alma's lip curled as she shrank further away from the man and his squeaky, sweaty biohazard suit. Hellboy saw Annuska rise potectively, and quickly went to put some distance between Andras and the child.

"Alright, alright…" he chided, putting his right hand on the man's chest and sliding him backwards across the carpet. Alma appeared to relax slightly. "So, uh...when can we leave?" He looked to Annuska, who was standing by the side of the chair protectively. Alma raised one of her minuscule hands, and snapped her fingers twice, and Annuska immediately moved to raise her from the chair, and cradled her against her chest as one would do an infant. Andras stood up from the floor, and Roger joined the men. Roger looked to Alma excitedly.

"You are just like a little doll…" he said absently, grinning goofily at the child.

"Do not call me that again, stone man," she replied coldly. Roger stopped smiling. Hellboy frowned, and was about to say something in Roger's defence, but was cut off by Andras's excited commentary.

"It is important that we return as soon as possible, before anyone else perishes due to this sickness! Ah, please, Annuska asszony, remember to wear strong-soled shoes, it's a bit of a walk. Oh, it's been so long since you two have been back to Vasvár! We have an excellent new community centre, and a skating rink, and-" he went on, unfortunately and habitually monologuing in the same fashion he would to a new visitor of Vasvár, being the tourism expert that he was.

"Be silent, Tóth." Alma's voice stopped him in his chant, and he sputtered like a kinked garden hose. Bowing his head, he said no more and merely gestured towards the door. Hellboy frowned harder, and shook his head incredulously.

This kid's got an attitude problem, he thought. Whatever, we can get this done and then Rog' and I can be on our way. Before long, they had all composed themselves in order to make the long walk back to Vasvár, and departed while the sun was still high in the sky.

A small cluster of clouds was approaching from the east as the group began to move away from the woodland cottage. Roger was sad to say goodbye to the beautiful, lush grotto he had come to feel at home in, but knew that he would probably see many more beautiful places in the future. They walked as a group for a short stretch, before dispersing into more of a line. Andras remained at the front, with Annuska, who was carrying Alma in her arms, and Hellboy and Roger once again took up the rear. Roger walked lightly, playfully swishing the drawstring of his coat as he walked. Hellboy walked much more heavily, staring intently at the back of Annuska's head.

"Hey, Rog'..." he whispered gruffly, hoping that the mother and child would not be able to overhear them.

Roger edged closer. "Yes, Hellboy?" He continued to swish his drawstring, but stopped after accidentally slapping it against Hellboy's hand.

Hellboy spent one more moment looking at Annuska before turning his attention to Roger. "Whaddaya think...about them?" He nodded his head toward the pair.

Roger was pensive for a moment. "Well…" he said quietly. "I wish that little girl would stop calling me stone man…" He looked down morosely.

"I mean, yeah, I don't like that either, but…" He raised his eyebrows. "Do you think she can really do it?" Hellboy turned his head back to the front. "Heal all those people?"

Roger shrugged. "I don't know much about Hungarian mythology," he responded. "But she's definitely a supernatural creature."

Hellboy scoffed. "Yeah, that much is for sure," he grumbled, remembering the cathartic experience from before. "Just be careful around her, alright?" He looked to Roger again. "She could be dangerous." Roger nodded slowly before becoming distracted again. Hellboy resumed brooding, but quickly became lost in his thoughts.

He couldn't help but reminisce once again about his father, the Professor. It was true that the Professor had told him about the mythos surrounding the táltos as a child, specifically the legend of the old man Göncöl. Tucked nicely underneath his Lobster Johnson-patterned blanket, the young Hellboy had looked upwards at the kind face of his father as he read to him from his own research notes, created during an expedition to Hungary many years earlier. Bruttenholm had spoke to him softly, telling a tale of a kind, altruistic old man named Göncöl who had the ability to cure anyone of any malady. He carried with him a special wagon, and travelled all across Hungary to help those in need. While there were very few documented cases of táltos in Hungarian mythology, they were described as being generous and personable. Now sleep well, The Professor had said, kissing Hellboy gently on the brow. I'll see you tomorrow.

Hellboy blinked lazily, then returned his thoughts to the present. So this little girl is a táltos too... he thought to himself. So why's she so nasty? As he continued to scrutinize Annuska's back, he watched as Alma's face appeared above her right shoulder, and she once again pierced him with a single, blue eye.

They arrived back in Vasvár just as the sun was cresting the halfway point between midday and sunset. Just before reentering the city limits, Andras adorned his biohazard mask once again, shielding himself from the airborne pathogens tainting the surrounding environment. Annuska became increasingly more emotional as they moved through the city, looking upon the buildings and monuments with teary eyes. She would frequently make comments in Hungarian, undoubtedly sharing memories she had had before her and Alma had been forced to leave. Andras watched her intently as she told her stories, often times responding to her and sharing memories of his own. He wasn't able to emote very well due to the visor partly obscuring his face, but Annuska still smiled warmly at him and laughed at his poorly constructed jokes. Alma, still held in Annuska's arms, rolled her eyes.

Hellboy snorted with amusement as he watched the disgusting display before him, and nudged Roger with his elbow. "I dunno about you, Rog', but I'd say those two are gettin' pretty sweet on each other," he said, grinning.

Roger smiled too, but his expression was vacant. "Sweet?" he asked, looking over at Andras and Annuska. They were talking about a nearby statue, depicting a little girl with a flower basket. "You mean like sugar?"

"Uh…" Hellboy rubbed the back of his neck. "Not like sugar, but as in they kind of like each other, y'know?"

Roger's eyes widened. "Oh. Okay, I understand you now," he said, smiling genuinely this time. "So you mean they want to get married?"

Hellboy dropped his hand and squinted his eyes at Roger. "I mean, I dunno about that," he said back, putting his hand into his pocket.

"But that's what people who like each other do, right?" Roger asked innocently, watching the two as they gestured to a placard underneath the statue. "You marry them?"

"That's one thing you can do with 'em, but you don't have to," Hellboy explained. "I mean, I dunno anything really about that sort of stuff." He blushed slightly.

Roger shrugged. "Me neither. Kate told me a little bit about it but she said she'd tell me more when I was older, and then she laughed," he said, smiling at the memory. "But I'm over five-hundred, so I don't know."

Hellboy chortled loudly and clapped Roger on the back jovially. Andras and Annuska moved over to where Hellboy and Roger were standing, and Hellboy could see that Alma was getting quite annoyed. She would have looked more intimidating, if she weren't the size of a large handbag.

Turning towards Annuska, Andras addressed Alma in English. "This is about the centre of town, Alma asszony. Will this location work? Are you able to start doing...whatever it is...that you do?" he asked her softly. He seemed as though he were worried she would change her mind if he acted impolite or too forward. Alma looked at him disinterestedly, and waved her hand for him to move out of the way. He obliged.

Hellboy peered at the small girl once again, for he could tell that something had changed since they had left the small cottage in the woods. It was subtle, but she appeared almost to be slightly larger; more powerful. Her blue irises had become almost luminescent, and her very being almost seemed to thrum with an untold force of energy. Hellboy could not shake the feeling that what he observed before him was truly something malicious. He closed his eyes for a moment as an idea came to him; he didn't think Andras was going to like it, and if it worked, then things were about to get hairy. Nevertheless, he turned to Roger and, saying nothing, began to root around in the pockets of his coat.

Roger smiled at him, and held his arms out so that Hellboy's search could be conducted more easily. He looked over, and saw that Alma was distracted by something. Good , he thought as he continued digging through the many pockets on Roger's coat. Grunting, the fingers of his left hand connected with what he knew he would, given he was looking through Roger's treasures pocket; a dustry, stripped, iron screw. He looked up at Roger apologetically.

"I gotta borrow this for a second, buddy, " he whispered to the other as he withdrew his hand.

The other man smiled at him, and nodded. "Please give it back when you're done," he said.

Nodding back, Hellboy turned slowly towards the mother and child, and approached them.

"Uh...hey, kid. Can you help me out for a second?" he asked carefully, repressing the urge to flinch as her enormous eyes flicked on to him. "I just need ya to hold this for me." He proffered the iron screw. Alma eyed the screw with distaste, and returned her gaze to Hellboy. She looked at him warningly, her expression dangerous. He could tell that the answer was no. "C'mon, just for a second? I gotta tie my shoe."

Her eyes narrowed with suspicion as she eyed him distrustfully. "You do not even have feet," she hissed venomously, baring her teeth ever so slightly. Annuska watched the exchange with apprehension and curiosity.

"Well, ya got me…" he sighed, and shrugged his shoulders. Without warning, he gently tossed the screw towards Alma. Neither adult made much of the action, and so did not move to stop it; Alma, however, recoiled in horror, and made every attempt to avoid the falling metal, but to no avail. The screw innocently bounced against her knee, and then returned to the ground. The spot where it had touched her immediately began to smoke and char, and Roger quickly covered his ears as both Alma and Annuska began to scream. "Got ya!" Hellboy called triumphantly as he dove forward. Wrapping his left hand around one of Alma's miniature hands, he tore her out of Annuska's scrabbling arms and held the child aloft as the skin of her leg began to crack and blacken. Annuska continued to scream and wail as she tore at Hellboy's grip, struggling to reclaim her child, but the man held her back at right-arm's length. She wept and swore, but could only watch as the child began to transform.

A string of curses were emitted by the writhing, smoking creature that Hellboy clutched in his left hand, and Hellboy could see that the spot on her leg was now a glossy, black color. He could tell it was not the result of any burn or heat, but was a small portal to which he could see her true form underneath the guise that she had been wearing for nine years. Alma struggled to reclaim what she was so quickly losing, but it was too late; the black spot widened and enlarged until her entire leg was a shapely, lustrous void. Annuska abruptly stopped screaming as she saw just what was happening, and instead watched on in silent horror. Andras was watching from her side in a similar fashion, and Roger quickly moved over to Hellboy.

At this point, the "child" had almost entirely shed its outer shell; both of its legs were black, and as the effect quickly travelled up its body, its clothing fell down to the cobbles. The creature's hair fell out from its head, and as the mirage covering the face fell away, all that could be seen of what had once been was its pearly, now devilish grin, and its still enormous blue eyes. It no longer squirmed or fought, but merely waited patiently as the last inch of its skin transformed.

"Alright, now I gotcha…" Hellboy hissed, grimacing as he watched the disturbing transformation the child had undergone. The creature's only response was to laugh condescendingly as its right hand, the one that Hellboy had been clutching, turned black, immediately followed by its entire body slipping from his grasp, as though it were water passing through a funnel. In fact, it appeared as though its body had liquefied ; its figure disappeared as the monster splashed down onto the cobbles, drenching their feet and shoes in a black, oily substance. Its voice could still be heard chuckling, but the source had become ambiguous. Roger lifted his foot in distaste as Annuska sank to her knees, gasping in horror.

She moved to touch the fluid with her hands, but Andras stopped her and pulled her gently to her feet. He consoled her in Hungarian, but she looked as though her world had ended.

"Shit," Hellboy swore, watching as the black puddle began to expand outwards, increasing in diameter until it filled almost the entire street.

"Hellboy…" Andras stammered, nervously clutching his helmet. "I-I don't know what happened, this isn't...this isn't part of táltos mythology, I don't-" Hellboy cut him off.

"Relax, Andras, I know. I don't think that little girl was ever a táltos," he said wearily. "She got the jump on us, alright."

Roger looked back and forth between them. "Then what is she?" he asked, concerned.

"A lányom…" Annuska moaned, her head in her hands. Andras tried to comfort her, but she pulled away. Hellboy grit his teeth, and turned around in a circle. He could see that the cobbles of almost the entire street had been covered with the oily, black fluid. As he watched, the fluid began to congregate in the middle of the street, drawing itself upwards into a tall, misshapen column of roiling black matter. The sound of Alma's voice could still be heard reverberating around the brick buildings surrounding them, and as they looked around themselves fearfully, the pitch of the voice began to drop until it was as deep as the void of space. The child's deep chuckling beat through their bodies, pounding itself into what felt like every cell in their brains. Annuska tilted her head backwards, and wept mournfully as her body trembled with the force of the creature's laughter.

"Alright, that's enough!" Hellboy shouted, drawing his pistol. He wasn't sure what effect a bullet would have on the monster that was forming before them, but it wouldn't hurt to try. Roger quickly shrugged off his coat, gingerly placing it on a nearby doorstep for safekeeping. He joined Hellboy once again at his side, raising his fist and squaring his shoulders. The voice began to hiss, and the slick, black formation began to take shape. Andras stared up in horror as the monster grew to be at least eighteen feet tall; the black substance moved and swarmed, to form the body of an enormous torso. Its flesh was still the same glossy, black material as had been seen underneath Alma's disguise, but now the voice called out as four enormous arms protruded from the main body, connected to the torso on either side of the figure's bosom.

"If you were not fearful before… " the horribly loud, ominous voice intoned. "...t hen you will be fearful now. " Hellboy grimaced as the voice laughed menacingly.

Roger appeared shaken, but stood his ground unwaveringly. "What is that?" he breathed. Andras quickly moved towards them, struggling to keep Annuska close.

"Th-that…" he gasped shakily. "Is a fene ...it is a demon of illness and pestilence. I have only seen pictures, but...they are not supposed to be this large!" He swallowed, breathing erratically from inside of the stuffy hazard suit.

"Oh, this is just perfect…" Hellboy hissed, shaking his head. Resigning himself, he stoically raised his pistol once more, preparing to fire. He was just about to pull the trigger, when Annuska darted in front of him, holding her arms outstretched in order to shield the towering monster behind her.

"Kérem!" she wailed, wavering but standing firmly. "Tudom, hogy szörnyeteg...de ő a lányom!" Her teeth were clenched, and her tear-filled eyes burned with emotion. Hellboy was struck by them, and wavered slightly as he held his pistol. He tried to move his gun upwards, away from Annuska, but she darted forward and wrapped her hand around the barrel of his weapon.

"C'mon, lady, I don't have all day to do this with you," he growled angrily. He yanked the pistol out of her grip, but she did not move from where she stood. Hellboy was about to try something else when Andras's voice startled both of them.

"Hellboy! Annuska!" he screamed frightfully and, looking up, Hellboy could see that the black monster was bringing an enormous dripping fist quickly down on top of them. Bellowing, Hellboy quickly grabbed the dazed Annuska by the wrist, and yanked her along with himself out of the way. They had just barely escaped being flattened to death by the deadly appendage, but were blasted forward by an iron wave of fluid, splashing outwards in every direction. They crashed painfully against the dilapidated brick wall across from them, and Hellboy slumped growling to the ground with Annuska on top of him. The woman appeared shaken, but without serious injury. She had begun attempting to get up, when Hellboy angrily grabbed her by the front of her shirt with his right, and pointed accusingly at the staggering fene with his left.

"You see that?!" he shouted at her, spittle flying from his lip. She stared back at him fearfully. While she now looked to be descending into despair, her eyes still burned with intense emotion. "Your daughter , the thing you're trying to protect, just tried to kill you!" He shook her as he pointed. "That monster was never your daughter!"

"Hellboy…" Roger's concerned voice came from behind him. Hellboy started, and then released Annuska's shirt. He sighed in frustration, but felt bad that he had resorted to intimidation tactics with someone who was obviously just worried about their child. He got out from underneath her, and stood up as rivulets of stone and dust fell off of him. He turned to give her an apologetic look, but quickly looked away as he saw that she was crying angrily, and pounding her shaking fists against the cracked cobblestone underneath her.

Hellboy quickly went to join Roger who was waiting for him nervously. The creature had been occupied the last few moments with reconstructing the fist it had liquified, and now had all four hands once again undulating and swinging around its towering body.

"What should we do, Hellboy?" said Roger as he quickly sidestepped a bowling-ball sized blob of black matter that had fallen from above.

"I dunno, buddy, but- whoa!" He quickly dove to the left as the fene swiped at him. "-we better do it fast, before this thing destroys this entire street." Roger nodded, and started circling counterclockwise around the base of the fene. Hellboy quickly turned to look over his shoulder at Andras. "You know anything about how to stop this thing?!" he yelled tersely.

Andras's head whipped towards him. "Ah...well, of course, most supernatural entities are sensitive to iron!" he shouted back. He and Annuska were standing shakily behind a broad lamp post, desperately trying to shield themselves. "I believe, uh...oh, what was it…" he trailed off as he struggled to remember. Roger called out as he dove to dodge the fene's scrabbling fingers as they swept across the cobbles.

"Andras!" Hellboy shouted angrily, his impatience mounting. He wasn't sure who he wanted to punch more; the monster or the Hungarian.

"Yes! Yes, I remember now! It was salt and, and...and cedar ash!" he yelled back desperately, his voice muffled slightly by the helmet. "Those are weaknesses of the fene!"

Hellboy groaned loudly as he slouched with exhaustion. Now where the hell am I gonna get salt and freakin' ash? Recollecting himself, he began to strife around the fene to meet Roger around the other side. The creature began to hiss and chant in Hungarian as it lashed out at the nearby buildings, destroying windows and walls in its wake. The street was quickly filled with dashed bits of brick and shattered glass.

"Roger, you got any salt in that coat of yours?" Hellboy growled, breathing heavily.

Roger narrowed his eyes. "What do I look like, a spice shelf?" He grunted as he swatted a rock-sized lump of goop away from his head.

Hellboy snorted and couldn't help but smile, but was quickly distracted as the fene released an ear-splitting scream, and brought all four of its fists down at once onto the cobbles on either side of Hellboy and Roger. It was obvious that the monster could not see well, but that wasn't going to stop it from finding its prey.

"C'mon, Rog'!" Hellboy shouted as he roughly yanked Roger by the arm away from the beast. The four enormous, dripping hands quickly began sweeping together, and connected deafeningly right where Hellboy and Roger had just been standing. Not wasting another second, Hellboy dragged Roger through the crushed front door of a nearby building. Releasing the other man, Hellboy quickly started searching through the front foyer of the townhouse, at once relieved to see that it appeared to be deserted, and distressed to hear the loud scraping noises the massive searching hands were making behind him.

"Why did you ask me for salt earlier, Hellboy?" Roger asked shakily as he watched the movements of the fene through the crushed front-facing window.

Hellboy grunted as he bent to shift a fallen beam away from the entrance into the kitchen. The floor was littered with smashed china and strewn debris. "That's one of its weaknesses, apparently, " he explained. "That, and cedar ashes."

"Oh, I see," Roger responded. "I'll look for ashes, maybe there's a fireplace here." Hellboy grunted in affirmation, and Roger quickly moved into a nearby living room. Not much could be seen due to the fact that the upper floor had collapsed on top of the main living area below. Roger gingerly picked through the debris, moving farther into the space until his heavy foot clinked loudly against something.

That sounded metallic, thought Roger. If he were honest with himself, his first thought had been a potential addition to his ever expanding collection of bottle caps and bent screws, but upon closer inspection, he saw that it was a long, metal rod with a curved point. A poker! he thought excitedly. Pokers go in fireplaces! He stooped and grasped the iron rod, dragging it upwards through the layer of dust and pebbles. He spent a moment admiring its slightly tarnished surface, and how light it felt in his hand. This is nice, he thought to himself. Very nice. Tucking the poker under his armpit, he continued wading through the living room until he reached the opposite wall. A large sheet of cracked plaster was leaning against the ageing brick, obscuring what was beneath.

He had placed his hands on either side of the sheet, still pinching the poker underneath his arm and preparing to lift the plaster away from the wall, when the entire house began to shake. The fene ploughed one of its monstrous hands right through the blasted front entrance of the home. Roger could hear Hellboy shouting from the kitchen as the dripping, black fingers scratched long ridges into the floor of the building, searching for purchase in order to drag itself farther into the abode. Roger bared his teeth as he watched the hand move towards him threateningly, seeming to sense his presence.

Oh no, oh no… Roger felt distressed and hoped that maybe the fene would just change its mind and take its big hand out of the house. Why can't you just go away? Groaning with fear, Roger quickly turned back to the plaster sheet and tried to lift it again. Moving it with ease, he tossed it quickly to the side, shattering it against a wooden end table. " Oh!" he exclaimed, having seen what was revealed underneath. His suspicions had been correct; there was a fireplace tucked neatly into the wall, reaching an impressive three-and-a-half feet in height. A metal grille protruded out into the room, and a tall, brick chimney travelled upwards past the gaping hole in the ceiling. But is there ash inside? Roger thought.

Furtively glancing behind him, he saw that the creeping hand had almost reached him, and was furiously digging away at the piles of rubble and getting closer with every passing second. Not having time to think of what to do, Roger quickly crouched down to the ground and began pawing through the bottom of the fireplace. He whined despairingly as his fingers only contacted with clean, swept cement. He looked behind him again, crying out as the hand jabbed at him with a sharp, vicious finger, catching him on the shoulder. It wasn't a bad wound, but dark blood still seeped from the scratch marring his shoulder. Breathing heavily, Roger explored one of his last remaining options and, after batting away the iron grille, tossed the iron poker into the fireplace and climbed in after it. He moved in as deeply as he could, desperately trying to escape the fene's onslaught.

"Roger!" The Homunculus could hear Hellboy screaming from inside the kitchen. "I'm blocked, I can't get out! What's your status?!"

A slick, throaty laugh could be heard emanating from outside of the decimated home. "Your friend is about to meet his maker, Hellboy…" hissed the fene as it continued scrabbling at the fireplace. Roger frowned angrily as he pressed himself as tightly as he could into the fireplace, but felt a sudden sense of elation as one of his hands passed through something soft and powdered.

There's ash in here! he exclaimed, relief flooding through him. He filled his fist with as much ash as he could hold with one hand, and crept closer to the opening of the fireplace.

"You stupid monster…" he growled, cocking his fist. "I was made by Romanian scientists!" He flung the ash forward with as much force as he could muster, splattering the fene's outstretched finger with a thick film of grey powder. The creature screamed with pain as it's hand trembled and bucked violently, the now ash-covered finger spasming as black rivulets of fluid seeped from the sizzling digit. Roger scowled as his legs were spattered by thick spots of blood, but was pleased to see that the fene's finger had almost completely disintegrated, and did not seem to be regrowing as had the fist previously.

"A holló vájja ki a szemed!" The fene screeched harshly, almost immediately retracting its hand from the house. Its pained howling could still be heard from the street outside, the noise rattling the few remaining windows of the crumbling front wall. Breathing a sigh of relief, Roger quickly began to extricate himself from the fireplace, taking care not to bump his head on the chimney. Moments later, a breathless and agitated Hellboy rounded the corner, and began making his way through the rubble.

"Rog', I dunno what you did, but that thing is mad, " he chortled, picking his way over until he was standing next to Roger. "What did you do?"

Roger smiled, and held up his poker triumphantly. "I found ashes inside this fireplace!" he said, grinning. "I threw them at the fene, and it just sort of...melted." Hellboy grinned, and clapped him on the shoulder.

"That Andras was right...good thing, too, seeing as how I found this bag of salt in the kitchen." He hefted a large, dusty burlap sack over his shoulder. "Why don't you grab that jar on the mantle and start fillin' it?"

Several minutes later, both men were equipped with the offending substances (plus one poker) and could no longer hear the howls of anguish coming from outside. They made their way over the hill of rubble, and stood in the foyer once again.

"Alright, here's my plan…" Hellboy said quietly to Roger, who listened intently. After having explained himself, the two proceeded carefully up the crumbling staircase to the second floor. They stepped carefully across the dusty, carpeted interior; Roger experimentally prodded at the cracking infrastructure with his poker, testing to see if the floor was able to bear weight.

"Look, Hellboy, there's a window in the master bedroom!" Roger exclaimed, pointing with the now-dusty tip of the poker. Hellboy nodded tersely, his face pinched as he concentrated on stepping lightly and carefully across the pockmarked floor. Roger began to move gingerly forward, keeping one hand on a nearby wall as he passed into the master bedroom. Hellboy took another tentative step forward, but shouted loudly as his hoof broke through the crumbling floor, trapping his leg in the jagged floorboards.

"Ah, shit!" he cursed, scrabbling desperately at the floor in front of him in order to keep from falling farther. He sucked in a breath as the flesh of his calf was punctured by a sharp piece of wood, pain blossoming like a firework along the skin of his leg. Boiling hot blood seeped from his calf, staining the wood red and leaving steaming trails into the room below. Roger turned his head and called out to him, moving back towards the stairwell. Hellboy, his face pinched with pain, looked back at Roger who was once again testing sections of the floor with his poker. Hellboy was just about to speak again when a flash of movement behind the other man caught his eye; the previously empty window of the master bedroom was now filled by one of the enormous blue eyes of the fene. "Roger…" Hellboy said dazedly, meaning to warn him, but was too late.

The room exploded inwards as the monster, laughing whimsically, plunged its hand through the glass, filling the entirety of the upper floor with its roiling, black body mass. Roger's screaming voice was drowned out as he was swept aside by the torrential mass, knocking him down a branching hallway. Hellboy twisted hopelessly, praying that he could get away from the horrific monster, but screamed in pain as he was ripped out of the floorboards, grasped tightly in the unforgiving grip of the fene. His leg bled profusely as long, ragged gashes lined the flesh; Hellboy whined in disgust as he felt the shards of filthy wood embedded in his calf tear up the inside of his muscle as his body contracted.

"Oh, you're a real piece of work, y'know that?" Hellboy hissed as he pounded away at the top-most finger of the fene's fist with his right hand. In his left, he covertly grasped the inconspicuous bag of salt. The fene laughed, producing a guttural, animalistic sound.

"That, coming from the son of Azzael…" the creature hissed. "Coming from the nephew of Satan!" Another bought of raucous, unbridled laughter sent waves of pain shooting through Hellboy's head as his eardrums threatened to implode. He clenched his teeth with frustration.

"La, la, la, I can't hear you!" he roared angrily, flinging the untied burlap sac forward. The fene's laughter stopped abruptly as it watched the sac arc through the air, its trajectory almost perfect. It only had time to widen its enormous eyes before the sac innocently slapped against the bubbling, black flesh of its face; the burlap tore on impact, spilling its contents directly into the body mass of the fene.

Almost instantly, the monster's flesh exploded outwards as the fene screeched piercingly, shattering every single window in a hundred-mile radius. Hellboy gagged as he was splattered with thick sheets of bubbling, smoking biotic matter as the creature waved his flailing body through the air in its torment. Scratching at its face with a free hand, the fene quickly dropped Hellboy and reared backwards as its left eye became red and swollen, before eventually rupturing and splashing the cobbles below with chunks of vitreous humor. Hellboy barked as his back connected painfully with the slick cobblestone street below, and would have otherwise taken a moment to rest but then would have been slashed to ribbons as the creature caterwauled and sliced at the air with its remaining hands. He crab walked backwards until he was a safe distance away from the beast.

"Yeah, that's right, you piece of shit…" he said darkly, clamping his right hand around the ragged wound on his leg. He continued watching the fene from against the side of a nearby building, and saw that it was no longer able to support itself on its trunk-like torso. The monster dragged itself across the cobbles aimlessly, hissing and whining as though it were a boiling tea kettle. Very little remained of its face, save for a single watering eye and a misshaped mound of biotic fluid.

"You have ruined me…" the voice choked desperately as the fene probed searchingly around the street with an outstretched hand. "I...your own cousin." The inquisitive appendage stopped suddenly as it crept within a few meters of Andras and Annuska; the two were still trembling, now from behind a dilapidated wall. "You will regret this." The hand began to retract slightly, before readying to lunge forward.

Hellboy growled, baring his teeth. "Roger, now!" he shouted, clenching his fist with anticipation. Having removed himself from his hiding place in the shadows, Roger leapt forward and raced towards the grounded head of the fene. In one hand, he clutched the tarnished fire poker, and in the other, the jar of cedar ash. Crying out with vigor and adrenaline, Roger whipped the jar towards the dying monster with the speed of a jai alai pitch, and with the other, he plunged the iron poker through the remaining eye of the fene, bursting it like an over-full water balloon. The creature released a final high-pitched squeal as what remained of its head burst outwards in a shower of tear-drop shaped shards. Having spent the last remnants of its life force, it fell still moments before it would have gored Andras and Annuska. The two watched with amazement and horror as the rest of the fene's body dissolved into a wash of bubbling, black foam, permanently staining the grey cobbles a sickly, mottled rot color.

"Ugh…" Hellboy coughed as he leaned back, laying on the ground with exhaustion. He breathed heavily through his mouth, his right hand leaving his wounded leg. The bleeding was no longer as voracious as it had been before; although Hellboy could still feel the shards of wood scraping against his bone. He closed his eyes, and rested for a moment as he listened to the rapid sound of footsteps approaching him. Opening his eyes, he saw Roger's pinched expression floating overtop of him, and the Homunculus stooped down to help him to his feet.

"Does your leg hurt?" Roger asked with concern as he allowed Hellboy to shift his weight onto the other man's shoulders. The half-demon grunted, and limped next to his companion.

"No, Roger, it tickles." he hissed grumpily as they were joined by Andras and Annuska. "...sorry. Yes, it hurts." Roger smiled toothily.

"Istenem...istenem…" Andras gasped as he tripped over a hardening mound of something , grabbing on to Annuska for support. "I...I can't believe you two did it!" He shook with excitement as he moved to hug Hellboy, but thought better of it when he saw the expression on the man's face. Roger grinned and nodded, laughing as he looked back to the disintegrating mass still bubbling in the middle of the street.

"We did do it!" he called happily, jiggling Hellboy who chuckled in response while wincing.

"Hey, uh…" Hellboy spoke softly, looking up to make eye contact with Annuska. The woman's face was drawn and tired, and she looked as though she simultaneously had lost her whole world and had lost a massive weight on her shoulders. "...sorry about Alma. I mean, she was kind of your daughter. I guess." He trailed off, looking sheepish.

Annuska appeared somber at first, but shook her head and smiled back at Hellboy. "No," she said, simply. "Not daughter." She turned to smile at Andras as well, who grinned back at her. Roger was about to speak next, when they were all startled by a sound nearby. As they watched, the door to a nearby townhouse opened. From behind the wood, the worried face of an older woman peered out at them; she still had a cold compress perched on her forehead, and she was dressed in nothing but a yellow muumuu.

"Hellboy, do you think…?" Roger whispered as they all continued watching as the neighboring house's door opened, and a likewise dressed person peered their head out as well. "Do you think that maybe the fene was the cause of the illness all along?" Hellboy nodded his head slowly as yet more confused, slightly upset people entered into the street; some were dressed in sleepwear, others had hot water bottles pressed to their abdomens. They all appeared to have recently recovered from the debilitating illness that had swept through Vasvár.

Trembling with anticipation, Andras once again shakily removed the helmet from his biohazard suit, and with moist eyes looked all around him as the street was soon filled with voices. He began to weep, and wiped emotionally at his eyes as Annuska gently patted him on the back. Roger began to pat Hellboy on the back too in an attempt to mirror Annuska, and Hellboy didn't stop him.

"I'm sorry I lost your screw," said Hellboy, grunting as he readjusted himself.

"That's okay," Roger replied, smiling. "I have a whole bunch of them."

They stood together for a while, merely basking in the results of their strife and rejoicing in the removal of the terrible sickness that had almost destroyed Vasvár. When they were ready to go, Andras offered to lead them to the nearest clinic in order to treat Hellboy's leg wound. The red half-demon declined, and instead asked for directions to the pub.