hellboys cat

Disclaimer: I don’t own any of it! Well accept Cat.
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Now some people might find it strange that I enjoy the company of a large red demon monkey with a lot of attitude and little else. But then, if I was at all normal I wouldn’t be here now would I?

Somehow around the age of 13 or so I got passed over one too many times and slipped threw the cracks of civilization in to the darker levels of survival. I was the prey of the Underground and what a tasty little morsel I was then too. I learned fast and hard that to hide was to exist. I then learned how to watch and move silently threw the darkness that was always so close to me. I knew now that the monsters of bedtime stories were real and that mommy and daddy weren’t going to save me.

I remember the exact moment when I went from just existing to being something in the dark. It was the day that I found an old folding razor on a body not long dead. I began to have an identity, I learned how to keep the razor sharp and how to used it. How to sneak up on things in the dark and kill them. Early on I stuck to killing lesser things that were close to human, but still not. The Things that thought I would taste good, were the things I killed.

Knives became my trademark. After a year in the dark they began calling me Kitty Cat because of my sharp little claws. I was Feral, as were all that survived down there. There were others like me, children of the Dark, some survived by becoming pets, most died with in the first week. The rest were food, I didn’t know how to feel sorry for them. I could only keep my self alive for the night. I forgot the sound of my voice, sound carries too far in the darkness to talk.

By the time I was 15 or 16 I was becoming a hunter, not a profession for any one wishing to live threw the night. No, I had no such aspirations for life, I just wanted to get rid of as many of the bastards before they got me. I knew it would happen eventually and I wasn’t too worried. Life in the dark is hell. No way around it, its life with out anything but coldness, fear and pain. I had survived almost 3 years like this and if I lived much longer I would become a monster in the dark. I didn’t want my mind to be twisted, to be evil. No this little Cat was going to kill the Dragon in his den. The one who liked stealing children, the one who haunted my dreams at night… I had seen my prey before, he used to live off of the homeless and the hopeless, people like me.. But now he had refined his taste to younger flesh. I didn’t know if this creature could die, only that I had to make the effort to kill him. That was the night I would meet Hellboy, much the same as his is now.

I was dressed for battle with some odd 20 knives give or take secreted on my person. And by knives I mean anything that could be used to cut something; slivers of glass, metal, razor blades, sharpened wood bits that I kept in my hair. And lots more odds and ends with sharp points that I could use.

At the layer of the Monster, small sounds from pitiful creatures assaulted my ears. He was feeding on and fucking the little thing under him. With very little thought I had lobbed 10 sharp objects in to the gray putrid mass of the Monster. It, He, roared and charged me. With a proper knife in each hand I let out my own sound and let him come.. The Monster hit me with the force of a train, tearing great gouges in my flesh. I bared my teeth in the semblance of a smile and sliced pieces of him off. He was much stronger than me though and soon threw me across the room to hit a stone wall. I managed to throw a knife that took him squarely in the chest, breaking ribs and spilling tissue.. I saw my death as I fumbled a wooden spike from my hair in hopes to take out one of his eyes before he could rip out my throat.

But death never came, blood did though and thicker things. I realized I couldn’t hear due to a loud ringing in my ears. I later learned that it was a gun shot that made the noise that killed the Monster. I was back on my feet with my razor in hand when I saw the Red Demon. He was defiantly the scariest thing that I had ever seen because, he could kill with barely a thought. (So sue me I hadn’t had much dealings with guns before) He of course put the gun away when he saw me, go figure, maybe I just wasn’t scary enough for a gun. Granted, all he had to do to kill me was pummel me and I would have been about the consistency of a slightly squishy red smear…

I waited for the Red Demons attack but it never came. He simply hunched down, becoming smaller but no less menacing. Well, if he wasn’t going to eat me, I would tend to the small mewling things… Children… I went to the huddle of small warm bodies who cringed from me. I made soft noises and slowly, so very slowly began to cut there bonds.

I never herd him move, but the Red beast, man was beside me breaking apart ropes with his hands. I picked up the smallest crying one and began to move. The rest of the group slowly followed. The red man picked up the one I would have left, the one broken well beyond repair.

There was splashing up ahead, noise of many people heading towards us. I tensed up setting down the small crying one, but the Red one moved in front of me. Loud sounds and lights surrounded us, men picked up all the children and moved them out of the darkness. The Red one looked at me and said something, I hadn’t been spoken too in my immediate memory so didn’t think to respond. That is what happens when you are lost, you forget about things like talking. Funny thing though, he had offered neither me or the small ones pain and had killed the Monster, so maybe he wasn’t one himself?

Slowly, warily I followed him out from Underneath and in to the open. So clean was the air! So soft what the Night! I spread my arms wide threw my head back and laughed, something I cant remember ever doing. I looked at the Red one and I think he was smiling. I wanted to do something, to show him my appreciation, my respect, but I didn’t know what.. Thus I did the only thing that was completely against my nature. I offered him one of my true knives.. Slowly he reached out and took the silver blade and in return offered me his hand. A hand made of stone, a weapon that could not be parted from him much like my own.

I took this massive stone creation with my two small ones running my fingers over the markings and along the multiple finger joints. I could tell by the slight movements that he could feel what I was doing. So strange.. A real hand, just stone instead of flesh. I raised his hand to my throat using my own to guide his fingers in to place. If he squeezed once he could snap my neck, but this was the trust I was offering him. I gave him my life for saving it. His hand stayed like a granite necklace around my throat. I hoped that he understood at least in part.

He did…