From the Darkness

Disclaimer: I don't own Hellboy or any of it's characters, they belong to Dark Horse Comics...NOT me. I just like playing in their realms of the supernatural! :)

Chapter One

From the Darkness

"In the coldest regions of space, the monstrous entities Ogdru Jahad - The Seven Gods of Chaos - slumber in their crystal prison, waiting to reclaim Earth... and burn the heavens."

Des Vermis Myseriis, Page 87

October 10th, 1944, Scotland

It was raining intensely as soldiers ran through a dark tunnel carved into a mountain. A man signaled the soldiers to spread out, and came alongside an educated looking man.

"Sgt. Whitman, your men--they'll need these," the educated man said, while holding a small box containing rosaries.

Sgt. Whitman scowled and huffed before asking, "You are a Catholic?"

"Amongst other things, yes, but that's hardly the point," the man said, as Whitman locked and loaded an automatic.

"Here, you'll need one of these." Whitman said, handing the man the automatic.

"I abhor violence," the man said, as Whitman moved away. "Sgt. Whitman, I hope you don't think me mad--"

"Three days too late for that one, Professor!" Whitman interrupted. As he moved away, the Professor looked up at the wooden Christ and a disgusted shiver ran through him. The eyes were missing.

The men continued to move, while the Professor caught up with Whitman.

"You're wasting our time! There's nothing on this island, but sheep and rocks," Whitman complained.

"Ruins, not rocks. It's the remains of Trondheim Abbey. Built on an intersection of ley lines, the boundaries between our world and the other -" The professor started.

"What a load of crap. Hell, a week ago I hadn't even heard the word parabnormal -" Whitman interrupted, before being interrupted himself.

"Paranormal," The professor corrected, as Whitman continued walking, "but-you read the transmission," the professor interjected.

"Half transmission... nonsense - German ghost stories!" Whitman exclaimed.

"I've seen ghosts, Whitman."

"Oh, I'll bet you have." Whitman said skeptically, reaching a slope. One of the men set his camera down, turned and saw lights.

"Sweet Jesus," the man with the camera said.

Drenched, Whitman and the professor look down upon an impressive Romanesque ruin. Under worklights, dozens of Nazi soldiers swarmed among thick stone walls and archways.

"They must be here for the sheep," the professor said, sarcastically.

~1~

A dozen German soldiers swiftly assembled a large steel machine. The work was monitored by a spindly Nazi in black leather, his face covered by an odd gas mask.

~1~

"The freak in the gas mask--" Whitman asked

"Karl Ruprecht Kroenen, one of the Reich's top scientists. Head of the Thule Occult Society," the Professor answered, as he lowered a pair of binoculars and passed them to Whitman. "If he's here, this is worse than I thought."