signed off on the formal request, but they act as though they're doing it as a favor to London. They'd never admit they need our help."
"Why is London involved at all?"
Manning sighed impatiently. "It's all in the file, Professor. Hellboy and Agent Sherman are due back in a few hours. We'll have a briefing this afternoon, and you'll leave tomorrow."
Curious, Bruttenholm opened the folder and glanced at the first couple of pages, smoothing his white goatee. Dr. Manning hesitated a moment, then turned to go.
"Tom," the professor said. "Stop."
Manning froze in the doorway and turned back to face him with obvious reluctance.
Bruttenholm stared at him. Dr. Manning might have been the Director of Field Operations and, thus, his superior, but they both knew the BPRD would not have existed without Bruttenholm and Hellboy, whom he called his son. Most of the time, the professor allowed Manning the illusion that he was in charge.
"It's an archaeological dig," Bruttenholm said.
"Yes."
"Run by the British Museum."
"Yes."
"And they've specifically requested Hellboy?"
Dr. Manning shrugged. "You know how highly the Brits regard him, particularly since the Egyptian incident in '86."
"One Brit in particular."
"As it may be," Manning replied, opening his hands in surrender. "Trevor, they think they've unearthed part of something called the Dragon King's temple, which is associated with just the sort of legend that has a tendency to cause trouble when the past is disturbed. There's been sabotage at the dig, and sightings of individuals who might not be entirely human. There's also the matter of a missing child, the eleven-year-old daughter of one of the archaeologists."
Bruttenholm shook his head. "We don't know there's anything supernatural involved here at all."
Manning crossed his arms. "What do your instincts tell you?"
The professor sighed. He ran his hands through his unruly white hair, understanding, now, why Tom Manning had wanted him to lead the investigation. He wanted to make sure that whoever was doing the thinking for the BPRD in the field had his head in the game.
"You already know what the project's leader thinks," Manning said. "She's had more than a few brushes with our sort of business over the years, as you know. Her instincts have always proved reliable."
Professor Bruttenholm returned his attention to the contents of the folder. It was precisely the sort of incident that the BPRD had been created to investigate. Research and defense were the stated purposes of the group, but the defense element often meant attempting to prevent supernatural forces from wreaking havoc upon the world. Such prevention did not need to be global to warrant their attention. When evil made its presence known, they had a duty to extinguish it. And, in this case, with a formal request from the British and Chinese governments, they couldn't refuse without creating a diplomatic incident. No matter what Bruttenholm would have preferred.
"It isn't Dr. Bransfield's instincts that concern me," the professor said, without looking up. "Hellboy claims his feelings for her are a thing of the past, but you saw how distracted he was the last time their paths crossed. For weeks, his mind was somewhere else. It isn't healthy for him."
Manning cocked his head. "It happens to the best of us, Professor."
Bruttenholm blinked and looked up, wondering if Manning understood what he'd just said. Love. The frailty of the heart. It happened to everyone at some point in their lives, if they were fortunate. It was human. If the bittersweet distraction of a former love was part of being human, what right did he have to prevent it?
Again, he stroked his goatee, staring at Anastasia Bransfield's signature on the documents in the folder. He was an old man who only wanted to save his son from heartache, as any parent would. But Hellboy hadn't been a child for a very long time. And Bruttenholm knew that his son would want to see Anastasia, now that the
"Why is London involved at all?"
Manning sighed impatiently. "It's all in the file, Professor. Hellboy and Agent Sherman are due back in a few hours. We'll have a briefing this afternoon, and you'll leave tomorrow."
Curious, Bruttenholm opened the folder and glanced at the first couple of pages, smoothing his white goatee. Dr. Manning hesitated a moment, then turned to go.
"Tom," the professor said. "Stop."
Manning froze in the doorway and turned back to face him with obvious reluctance.
Bruttenholm stared at him. Dr. Manning might have been the Director of Field Operations and, thus, his superior, but they both knew the BPRD would not have existed without Bruttenholm and Hellboy, whom he called his son. Most of the time, the professor allowed Manning the illusion that he was in charge.
"It's an archaeological dig," Bruttenholm said.
"Yes."
"Run by the British Museum."
"Yes."
"And they've specifically requested Hellboy?"
Dr. Manning shrugged. "You know how highly the Brits regard him, particularly since the Egyptian incident in '86."
"One Brit in particular."
"As it may be," Manning replied, opening his hands in surrender. "Trevor, they think they've unearthed part of something called the Dragon King's temple, which is associated with just the sort of legend that has a tendency to cause trouble when the past is disturbed. There's been sabotage at the dig, and sightings of individuals who might not be entirely human. There's also the matter of a missing child, the eleven-year-old daughter of one of the archaeologists."
Bruttenholm shook his head. "We don't know there's anything supernatural involved here at all."
Manning crossed his arms. "What do your instincts tell you?"
The professor sighed. He ran his hands through his unruly white hair, understanding, now, why Tom Manning had wanted him to lead the investigation. He wanted to make sure that whoever was doing the thinking for the BPRD in the field had his head in the game.
"You already know what the project's leader thinks," Manning said. "She's had more than a few brushes with our sort of business over the years, as you know. Her instincts have always proved reliable."
Professor Bruttenholm returned his attention to the contents of the folder. It was precisely the sort of incident that the BPRD had been created to investigate. Research and defense were the stated purposes of the group, but the defense element often meant attempting to prevent supernatural forces from wreaking havoc upon the world. Such prevention did not need to be global to warrant their attention. When evil made its presence known, they had a duty to extinguish it. And, in this case, with a formal request from the British and Chinese governments, they couldn't refuse without creating a diplomatic incident. No matter what Bruttenholm would have preferred.
"It isn't Dr. Bransfield's instincts that concern me," the professor said, without looking up. "Hellboy claims his feelings for her are a thing of the past, but you saw how distracted he was the last time their paths crossed. For weeks, his mind was somewhere else. It isn't healthy for him."
Manning cocked his head. "It happens to the best of us, Professor."
Bruttenholm blinked and looked up, wondering if Manning understood what he'd just said. Love. The frailty of the heart. It happened to everyone at some point in their lives, if they were fortunate. It was human. If the bittersweet distraction of a former love was part of being human, what right did he have to prevent it?
Again, he stroked his goatee, staring at Anastasia Bransfield's signature on the documents in the folder. He was an old man who only wanted to save his son from heartache, as any parent would. But Hellboy hadn't been a child for a very long time. And Bruttenholm knew that his son would want to see Anastasia, now that the
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