Hello, everyone! Here is a Hellboy fic that I've been trying to write for the past year or so, but I kept scrapping it after two chapters' cuz it sucked. Big time. So, let's hope this one's a keeper!! Oh, and each time I started again, I changed the whole story. So, this is VERY far from what I started with, as I started with Hellboy saving a woman in her early twenties from a gang of thugs and taking her back to BPRD because she had been hit on the head and couldn't remember anything except how to talk. Literally. She couldn't remember anything at all. Abe was recruited to connect with her mind to help her remember, and a relationship ensued. But there were things in her head that shouldn't have been remembered, that where too painful. The reason I'm telling you this is so that, if anyone wants to try and write it, you can go for it. Just tell me so I can read it myself.

Disclaimer: I own only the new characters and the plot. That's it. Nothing else. Not even my favorite character: Abe Sapien.

Summary: "I don't know how I lived through it this long to find someone like you." "Well, you never have to again. I won't let them take you." "Thank you," I cried, "Thank you so much." Abe/OC

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Story Title: A New Beginning

Chapter one: The Perfect Experiment

I was running. I was always running. Always running away from the terrible humans that wanted to create more of me. I was never able to get far, though. I'd find a way to break out of my cage, make a break for freedom, but they always found a way to re-capture me and drag me back to that horrible hospital smelling building.

It wasn't a hospital, though. It was much worse. It was a lab funded by the government to find a way to create the perfect soldier. One that couldn't talk back, would always follow orders, and didn't care about anything but the mission, stuff like that. Except for one thing: these soldiers weren't human.

At least not entirely. Some where more human than others. There weren't many of us left, maybe five. The biggest problem my captors faced was keeping us alive for longer than a week. For some reason, no matter what DNA matching they tried, all of us died within that short amount of time. Except me, of course. They finally got it right with me. I wish they hadn't. Then they wouldn't be testing me, training me, taking little samples of different parts of me. Without anesthetic.

I was kept in a small cage, barely enough room to stand, and, because of my added height, I still had to hang my head down and have my shoulders hunched if I ever felt the need to get off my bum. Even when I was sitting, I only had enough room to have my knees bent upwards at chest level with my feet against one wall and my back against the other. I was fed by a tube shoved down my throat and a thick liquid pumped into my stomach, loaded with vitamins and minerals and all the other shit my body needed to function. They had to knock me half way out to get even close to me, though. I always put up a fight.

The other four were expected to die any day now, so I was their prime subject. They would let me out of the crate to run physical tests on me, like how fast could I complete a maze, how fast could I run and maintain that speed until I collapse from exhaustion, how bad of a beating could I take before I cried out or passed out.

I was nothing to them. Nothing. I was just a test tube baby, created with genes and abilities that these sicko's wanted. The only thing that they didn't want was my complete disregard for orders and my charming personality. I always tried to piss them off as much as I could. If they got too mad, though, or if I wasn't going fast enough for the maze or tread mill, they would zap me with over a hundred thousand electrical volts. That would kill a human. It only gave me excruciating pain for days on end. Not enough to knock me unconscious, much to my chagrin.

So, let's start over. Hi, my name is 21-79-82-453ALPHA. The first number is the percent of human DNA I have in me. The second number is the percent of other DNA I have. The third number is the number of the group I was born with. The last number is my number. I was the four hundred and fifty-third test tube baby out of the eighty-second group. There where five hundred in my group. I had four hundred and ninety nine brothers and sisters. Now all dead. And I had a mental connection to every single one. So I lived through all of their painful tortures, maltreatments, and, finally, deaths. Every. Single. One. I cried for each of my lost brothers and sisters. I still do, some nights. That was over eighty years ago. I'm nearly a hundred, yet my body is still in teenage years. I'm almost nineteen. My aging process was slowed down quite a bit. Another thing these so called 'men of science' pat their backs over. Most of them are dead by now, I think. They were replaced a few years ago by younger guys. They weren't happy about it, but they couldn't do anything. Personally, I was glad to see them so furious. If only I had been let out of my cage long enough to rub it in.

I got out once. These monsters couldn't find me until the news came on the next day. I had found one of the bastards that had created me. I killed him. I killed him as slowly and painfully as possible.

That's another thing they've taught me. How to kill without a second thought. I know every way a human can be killed. Including ways that leave people thinking the dead person died of pneumonia or natural causes. They made me learn on failed experiments. Alive, failed experiments. They would have them tied to a chair or cowering on the floor, then put me in the room alone with them. They would call in from the damned intercom from some other room, telling me how to kill the poor man or woman in front of me. The first time I wouldn't go near them, but the second time they put some chip or something in the guy in front of me, and when I didn't do what they said, they pressed a button and tortured him, yelling at me to put him out of his misery. He was looking at me, that mutated face turned towards me, his eyes filled with pain, begging me to make it stop. So I did. I snapped his neck as fast as I could. I'll never forget those eyes, those brown eyes filled to the brim with pain, misery, fear, and sorrow.

All that I caused.

After that, I would have to kill each and every experiment that they put in font of me. At first, I still wouldn't kill them the way they wanted me to. I would just snap their neck quickly so they wouldn't feel any pain. They found a way around that too. When they biopsyed a part of me, they placed something inside of me that would move to a new location, destroying something painfully as it went. All they had to do was say two words within my hearing range: Bad girl. Then the damn thing would move about half a foot in any direction that didn't lead to it popping out of my skin. I would be on the floor, gasping for breath, because most of the time it rips its way through one of my organs.

Luckily, I have major healing abilities. They just throw me in my crate and wait a few days. Then they would whip me out again to try to order me to kill another experiment. So, now the doomed experiment would be tortured, and I would have my lung chopped in half. The only time that didn't happen and they actually had to do surgery on me was when the damn thing went through my heart. How can I heal myself when I'm dead? Well, they fixed it and injected me with an experimental revival drug.

Unluckily, it worked. I woke up with a killer headache, horrible heartburn, and sick to my stomach three days later. I was in so much pain, I actually begged them to kill me. They just laughed at me and put bets on how long it would be until I went crazy. It took around a month before the pain was enough that I stopped begging. It took about two weeks for it to go away completely after that.

I must say, though: These people are persistent. They had me back in that horrible room with another experiment the next day. I had learned my lesson. I did what they told me to. I had to listen to each one scream, cry, and beg me to stop. At the end of that year, I was practically dead inside. It was my rage that saved me from the abyss. I vowed that I would end all of this madness when I found a way out.

And I will find a way out. There was no way I couldn't: I was the perfect experiment.

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So, what do you think? Trust me, it gets better. It really does. So, tell me what you think by pressing that pretty little button below. Oh, and if you want to work on that story I talked about up above before the actual chapter started, just tell me so I can read it, because I really would want to see how it would turn out. REVIEW!!