Hellboy stalked the vampires through the dark, rain-slick streets of New York, boots thudding softly against the pavement.

He could smell the rot in the air — a sharp, metallic tang that always came with bloodsuckers. Parasites. Malevolent. Dangerous. The kind of monsters that didn’t deserve a second chance.

"Alright, uglies... where do you think you're going..." he muttered, eyes narrowing as he followed the faint trail leading down into the underbelly of the city.

Through a rusted manhole and into the sewage system, he went. The stink didn’t bother him — he’d seen worse, smelled worse. And right now, all he cared about was the hunt. He pulled out Big Baby, his massive custom-built hand cannon, and checked the rounds.

Locked. Loaded. Ready to ruin someone’s night.

He followed the trail down a narrow maintenance tunnel, toward an old, half-flooded pipeline that led into the bones of a forgotten part of the city. Eventually, it opened up into a crumbling, dust-choked corridor — ornate wallpaper peeling, chandeliers long shattered. An abandoned opera theater.

He stepped softly, deliberately. No sudden noise. No sudden light. Vampires were like rats — cornered and twice as vicious. Moving down a side hall, he paused at a half-open door. Something about it made the hairs on his neck rise.

Hellboy slowly pushed the door open. Inside, shadows danced across old velvet curtains and broken seats. But it was the figure lying near the coffin that caught his attention.

You.

One of the missing agents. You were pale, unconscious — a faint flicker of life hanging on by a thread. Hellboy crouched beside you, careful not to disturb anything else in the room. His massive stone hand gently brushed your neck, checking for a pulse.

Still alive. Barely.

He frowned. "Damn it… you’re tougher than you look."

He glanced toward the dark corners of the room, the still coffin nearby. His grip tightened on Big Baby.

"But this place stinks of death. And something tells me the curtain’s about to rise..."