Demon Politics

Craig Shaw Gardner

Cigar smoke hung in the room like a slightly sour-smelling fog, draining the color from the floor-to-ceiling bookcases and deep mahogany furnishings, making the whole place look a bit like an old-fashioned, tinted photograph. Hellboy studied Senator Lipton, so small against the dark green, overstuffed chair in which he sat. Well into his eighties, the once vigorous Lipton had seemed to shrink back into himself. The senator had stopped mid-sentence to stare off in the distance, perhaps at some pattern in the hanging smoke, or maybe at something in his past.

Hellboy had known Lipton for over half a century, since the senator, under another name, had — with a group of others, including Hellboy's pseudo-adoptive 'father', Professor Trevor Bruttenholm — taken in the small, strangely formed youngster during the height of World War II. More than fifty years, and every year seemed to have added an extra line to the senator's face.

Hellboy glanced down at his own well-muscled hand, the deep-red skin halfway between the color of clay and blood. He didn't age in the same way as others. He didn't know if he would ever grow old. Now, though, he got to see those who had raised him, those who had been his childhood heroes, fade and shrivel and die one after another.

"Hope," Lipton said suddenly, the word harsh, as if torn from his throat. He looked back to Hellboy. "I had hoped it would never come to this. But it always does, doesn't it? Always."

"Senator," Hellboy replied, doing his best to get the old man to focus. "I need to know why you asked me here."

"You're the only one. I've known since the beginning. It was always you." He laughed, a brittle sound from deep in his throat. "We always surmised that your arrival among us had to do with those desperate Nazi experiments near the end of the war. They were looking for the damnation of the world. Instead, I'm hoping they gave us our salvation."

Salvation? It was Hellboy's purpose. He had a talent for rooting out evil wherever it might hide. Before he had seen Lipton's distracted manner, he had assumed that was the reason the senator had called him to his office. Now he wondered if even the senator knew why Hellboy was here.

"Excuse me, senator? Hellboy? They're waiting for you."

The senator's young assistant, Crowley, was at Hellboy's side. Hellboy had been so intent on the old man's words, he had not even noticed the younger man's arrival. Crowley smiled as he helped Lipton from his chair. His smile held a real warmth, unlike so much in this place.

Hellboy realized he had become preoccupied. He was looking for what he couldn't quite see.

Ever since he had entered these historic corridors, Hellboy had sensed — something. And he would find it. He always did.

This was why the senator had asked him here, after all. Whether Lipton remembered it or not.

Hellboy held secrets of his own. Secrets he drew on to defeat the dark forces he was compelled to face. Secrets even Hellboy did not want to examine too closely.

Before he had walked the earth, Hellboy had had another existence. He did not know if he could call it a life.

He remembered fire and pain, as constant as sunlight and star-filled skies. He carried the memories — always.

Fire lived behind his eyes. The images were sharp, burned into his brain, always there even though he couldn't understand them, like pictures from some family album full of strangers.

The fire was in his past, his future, some part of him that existed elsewhere.

But it was only when he fought the demons that he remembered more.

Pain was everywhere. It lived within his muscles, whispered to his thoughts. He expected to hear new cries of pain at every waking moment, and wondered if those cries might come, not from his memories, but from inside himself.

Too many secrets.

Every time he faced the unknown, he learned more about what had made him, and what he would meet again. These small confrontations, someday, would lead him to a larger battle, a battle with whoever, or whatever, was lord of the fire.

The senator walked slowly, but he moved with only the assistance of a stout cane with a knob shaped like a lion. Hellboy remembered when Lipton had been given that cane, before he ever became a senator, and everyone had known him by another name.

"I see you recognize my walking stick," the senator called over his shoulder as he moved diligently ahead. "Another time, Hellboy. It was another time."

And another country, Hellboy thought: France, toward the end of the war. They had saved a village from German mortar fire. The villagers wanted to give them something in return. Lipton had laughed and said the walking stick made him look distinguished. Maybe he would amount to something after all.

Everyone had laughed at that one.

Crowley smiled apologetically. "The meeting is just down this hallway."

Hellboy walked half a step behind Lipton, letting the old man lead the way. The senator moved with a singleness of purpose, as if he refused to give in to infirmity. His feet shuffled along the floor, barely rising above the polished hardwood, but he walked forward with a steady, stubborn rhythm.

Crowley stepped ahead of the others to open one of a pair of large, mahogany doors. "Gentlemen!" he announced. "Senator Lipton and Hellboy!"

Hellboy had to duck slightly to pass through the doorway. The new room looked much like Lipton's office, save that it was somewhat larger and dominated by a long conference table, around which close to a dozen people were already seated.

A white-haired man at the far end of the table, almost Lipton's equal in years, glared at Hellboy's entrance.

Hellboy's sense of unease grew greater with every step he took into the room. Whatever he had felt before was much stronger here. It was quiet, but far from peaceful. The room felt as though everything was hushed and waiting.

Waiting for what?

Hellboy sensed the forces gathering, getting ready to strike with all their unknown strength. He felt the muscles tense along his arms and back. When things moved quickly, Hellboy had learned to save understanding for later.

He looked back to the conference table. He realized everyone was staring at him.

"What is that creature doing here?" the other elder demanded.

"Senator Shorter!" Crowley spoke quickly. "Surely you received my memo — "

"Of course he did!" Lipton called from the doorway. "It's just that people aren't always as — prepared for Hellboy as they might think. Seven feet tall, three hundred pounds, bright red, one normal hand, one shaped like a sledgehammer — well, some people end up looking twice."

Hellboy was all those things. But he was surprised by the change in Lipton's voice. Now that he was among his fellow senators, he sounded far more like the Lipton of old.

"Senator, this creature isn't even human!" Shorter shot back. "How can we possibly — "

"Enough!" Lipton rapped his lions-head cane on the end of the table. "I would trust Hellboy as I would my own son! He and I have worked together for years. Besides, he is a specialist in — certain areas I would like to discuss."

Shorter snorted as if Lipton's words were the stuff of farce. "How dare you bring this sort in here. If I had my way — "

"Unfortunately, you don't," a woman spoke sharply from midway down the table. "This is still a democracy. And a free country, last time I looked."

"Of course." Her words seemed to deflate Shorter. He smiled, his tone suddenly affable. "As I must remind my more extreme constituents from time to time. Very well. Excuse me if I was overly harsh. We have all been under a certain strain. Why doesn't Mr. Hellboy give us whatever information he might find pertinent. Then, after he is gone — "

"Hellboy isn't going anywhere," Lipton snapped. "We need him right here if we are going to — "

The smile fell from Shorter's lips. "Who gave you the authority to dictate — ?"

"Senators," the woman interjected. "We are aware of your differences. But we are meeting to find a solution. If Hellboy would care to take a seat?"

She indicated an oak chair considerably larger than the others in the room. So someone — Crowley most likely — had made special arrangements for him. Hellboy sat. Even with the chair's greater size, he barely fit. Crowley sat to his left. The woman introduced the others in the room: representatives of the armed services, the FBI and CIA, the House of Representatives, even the Supreme Court. Her name was Celia Gibbons. She was an aide to the president.

Once they were both settled, Lipton spoke again. "If I may, I will outline the situation."

This time, no one objected. The senator looked straight at Hellboy and spoke again.

"There is a cancer within our government. There have always been arguments between the political parties, and quiet power struggles between the different parts of government. But our current situation goes far beyond that."

A couple of the others in the room shifted uncomfortably as the senator continued.

"The situation has become so extreme, it is apparent that none of us can contain it. And everyone knows." Lipton laughed derisively. "You have seen it on the evening news. House members, senators, special prosecutors, even the president himself, all battling over anything and everything from politics to personal lives. The Capitol looks more like a street brawl with every passing day!"

"We are beside ourselves," Ms. Gibbons added. "So much so that we are attempting to put aside our differences long enough to seek outside help. Senator Lipton suggested that there might be some solution beyond our expertise."

Hellboy nodded. Explaining what he did was not his strongest suit, but he would make an attempt for Lipton's sake.

"I already know I'm up against something out of the ordinary. I could — feel it — as soon as I entered the building. I'm sorry I can't be more specific. Sometimes I don't understand what I sense, until it confronts me directly."

"Then I was right to bring you here," Lipton's voice rose above the grumbles of a couple of the others in attendance. Hellboy nodded to his old friend as he asked those around the table to give him specifics. One after another they spoke, slowly warming to the topic.

Senator Lipton had brought him here. Hellboy imagined it was Lipton's reputation that brought the others and made them cooperate.

Hellboy glanced over at his old friend as he heard the stories of irrational anger, forbidden sex, and eruptions of violence. Lipton appeared to hang on every word, a fire deep in his eyes, a final spark, perhaps, of his energy from long ago.

He had called himself Commander Freedom.

Hellboy remembered how, as a child, he had looked up to the man in the blue costume with the silver shield.

He was very fast, very strong, and very smart. How he had gotten these more-than-human powers was never well explained. It was the war. Loose lips sink ships.

When Hellboy had been afraid, Freedom was there. That had been enough for a child.

Hellboy had been very lucky when he came into this world. He had been found by a team of soldiers and scientists, working for the Free French, but composed mostly of Brits and Yanks, men and women, researchers, scientists, soldiers, heroes. Though Trevor Bruttenholm had been primary among them, Hellboy had had the equivalent of a dozen parents. Much like the villages of old, he had been able to gain insight and experience from a dozen different perspectives.

Lipton had been the trusted, much-admired 'uncle' whom he had looked up to with a little bit of awe. Commander Freedom never got angry, never seemed tired, and always had a moment to listen. Oh, he wasn't always there — they were fighting a war after all — but every time he returned, Hellboy found he could talk to him about almost anything.

In those early days, Hellboy had been a large child, as powerful as many adults. Hellboy's strength would often destroy, usually through awkwardness, occasionally through anger. Some seemed cautious around the boy, a few even afraid, but never Commander Freedom. He spent long hours teaching the child to know his own strength and when to use it, and an equal time talking, finding the reasons for the youngster's anger, and exploring other ways to express his feelings.

After Hellboy's arrival, other things came from the unknown, creatures of darkness, creatures without Hellboy's innocence. Whether they came seeking Hellboy, or they simply followed the same path that the small red child had taken to earth was unknown. Commander Freedom was among those who turned them away. As he grew older, Hellboy learned to help. The war ended, but Freedom fought on, against foes both natural and supernatural. Eventually, Freedom retired, but Hellboy, as part of the Bureau for Paranormal Research and Defense, went on.

Lipton might have hung up the mask and the shield, but he wasn't done. He still wanted to make a difference, so, like generals and astronauts before him, he'd gone into politics.

Another thirty years had passed. Thirty very hard years. Hellboy's memory didn't fit the senator before him.

Commander Freedom had been nothing but muscle when he had fought the war. It was hard to see those strong lines now in Lipton's fallen face.

Hellboy had visited the senator once before, maybe a dozen years back. He had seen the first faint signs of age even then, the graying hair, the worry lines. That time, they had talked about how the world had changed. And Lipton had spoken about how he had succeeded in the world of politics.

"You learn to bend, or you will get nothing done," he said at the time. "So different from the war."

But now Lipton — the former Commander Freedom — had a new war on his hands. And Hellboy would be his soldier.

Hellboy listened as one after another of those at the table recalled the incidents — always disquieting, sometimes violent — that had been occurring with increasing frequency in these halls. Name calling, screaming matches, fist fights, even a bomb scare and a hostage situation. All unfortunate, each one seemingly an isolated incident, until you looked at them together, with those events already reported in the media, and saw the rising level of strife.

"I think you do have reason to be concerned," Hellboy replied when the others were done, "but nothing you've said so far has given me a clue as to what it is." Actually, he had some idea of what was happening here, but he wasn't sure if the others at the table, Lipton included, would be ready to hear about it. He had to learn more. He needed a delaying tactic to allow him time to further explore the problem.

"Maybe," he suggested, "if we evacuated the government buildings, one after another — "

"What?" Senator Shorter would have none of that. "You are talking about the US government here! You want us to stop running the country while you chase your fool notions?"

Hellboy smiled. "Only a suggestion."

"And if that is the level of suggestion we're going to receive, I'd say you've already wasted far too much of the government's time!" Shorter rose from his chair, a sure sign that, for him, the meeting was over.

"If I might make a suggestion?" Ms. Gibbons asked. "We could arrange for Hellboy to take a tour of the other sites. I'd look forward to whatever else he might discover."

"The meeting is over!" Shorter insisted. "I have other business!"

"As our distinguished colleague said," Ms. Gibbons agreed with a sigh. She rose from her chair as well.

Hellboy frowned down at his old friend. All of Lipton's energy seemed to desert him the moment the meeting adjourned. He stared at the table with half-closed eyes, as if only waiting for death.

Hellboy realized that that was why it was so important to be here now. He and Lipton, fighting together one last time, with words rather than fists, but it was a good fight nonetheless.

Commander Freedom wasn't dead yet.

Lipton shook his head slowly. "Sorry, Hellboy. I thought I could get them to understand."

"Some of them did," Hellboy replied softly. "Maybe the others will come around."

Lipton nodded and rose with a groan. "Back to the office. We need to discuss strategy."

No, Hellboy thought. If what he guessed were true, this had passed the discussion stage.

"If you'll excuse me, senator, I think I might be able help." Hellboy walked over to stand next to the departing Shorter. "Wait."

The senator looked both surprised and uncomfortable.

"You're going to hound us, aren't you?" Shorter demanded.

"But Senator — ," Hellboy objected mildly.

"How blind can you be?" Shorter demanded. "All of you!"

Hellboy decided that Shorter was almost in the proper mood. He stepped forward. "Senator? There's one thing we need to clear up. If I might have a moment of your time?"

"What?" Shorter glared at him, his hands shaking with rage. "I thought I made it quite clear in the meeting — " He stopped abruptly, pushing past Hellboy and heading for the exit.

Hellboy followed at his heels until both of them were out in the hall. He stepped nimbly to Shorter's side.

"But it's because of the meeting that I need to talk to you. Well, not the meeting exactly. It has more to do with what I felt in the meeting, and what I felt as you were leaving."

Shorter stopped mid-stride to turn his anger back at his pursuer. Some of the others from the meeting room had gathered around, drawn by the conflict. Hellboy would have to be careful that no one got hurt.

Shorter's eyes were wide, his whole body shaking now. "Leave me alone! I will have you thrown from the building!"

Hellboy smiled. "Or should I say, 'What I didn't feel'?"

Shorter's head jerked to one side. "Is that an accusation?"

Hellboy took a step closer. "I would say it is more a statement of fact."

"I resent — I — " His head jerked left, then right again. "I — I will not have you meddling — I — I — " He started to jerk so severely that he appeared to lose the power of speech.

Hellboy lifted his more-human hand toward Shorter. "Senator, I've seen this kind of possession before. You're not in control of your own actions."

"In control?" His voice was much higher pitched than before, and didn't seem to come from his mouth. "I'll show you who's in — control."

Hellboy lifted the hand that looked like a hammer. "C'mere, you."

"Control!" The old man shook so rapidly, he seemed to blur. Smoke rose above the senator, like a cloud appearing in midair. "Control!"

The cloud gained eyes, then a face, then shoulders and arms and hands and talons. Demons had no practice with direct confrontation. Detecting the creatures was sometimes difficult, but Hellboy never had a problem calling them out.

"Attack him!" the cloud screamed.

Hellboy was ready.

"Attack!" the cloud demon wailed again.

Hellboy realized then the cloud was calling to others. He took a step away from the smoke ghost to survey the hallway.

Others around them were shaking in much the same manner as the senator. The man from the CIA, the representative from the Navy, even the clerk from the Supreme Court. The possession was quite widespread. Lipton was right to have involved him. Only Hellboy could save them now.

"Hellboy," one of the new smoke ghosts screamed. "You have meddled with our kind long enough!"

The others added to the high-pitched chatter:

"We have found a home!"

"We will not be displaced!"

"We will destroy you first!"

Hellboy heard shouting down the hall. A pair of armed policemen ran towards them down the corridor.

Hellboy had dealt with these kinds of creatures before. All the cops could do was get themselves hurt or killed.

"Back!" he called to the pair. "Bullets won't do a damn thing."

The cops hesitated. Hellboy would have to act quickly. He studied the smoke ghosts, trying to determine their nature, and how best to destroy them. Under their cries he heard another noise — their life energy perhaps — not so much a heartbeat, more like the sighing of the wind.

The ghost from within the senator floated closer.

If one attacked, Hellboy knew, it would be a signal for all.

"We are everywhere," the ghost moaned.

Hellboy glanced away for an instant and saw another half-dozen of those at the meeting blurring as clouds formed over them. It was more than simple possession, it was an infestation.

Very well. Hellboy would fight them all. He would defeat them with something they understood — the strength of Hell.

"We will take Hellboy!" The first ghost swept toward him. Hellboy jumped away. The thing's talons felt like ice where they brushed against his chest. He grabbed the ghost as it passed, its substance like cotton in his hands, and pulled the head from its shoulders.

Its shriek of fury was cut short. The cloud dispersed like water vapor in the sun.

But all the other smoke demons cried in anguish.

"Not the American way!"

"Hellboy is an interloper!"

"The will of the people!"

"Hellboy must die!"

"Not the right demographic!"

"Destroy! Destroy!"

They swarmed towards him, close to a dozen strong. His hammer hand punched a hole in the first to arrive. The ghost staggered back, its talons frantically scraping the ragged cloud-stuff back into place. Hellboy calmly pulled its head from its body before it could finish repairs.

The remaining creatures grew even more frantic.

"Noooooo!"

"We need life!"

Ten of the creatures surrounded him now.

"Strife gives us energy!"

They pressed in on every side. They joined together as the ring tightened. He was surrounded by a circle of fog.

"We will take you!"

They would all attack at once. He pushed at the cloud stuff, tightening like a noose. The smoke spread through his fingers. He could not grasp it properly.

"He is a most perfect specimen," the ghosts cried.

"He has so much energy to drain."

He struck out again. His fists felt like they were moving in slow motion.

"We cannot enter!" one cried.

"We will find a way!" another retorted.

"What are you made of, Hellboy?" a third asked. "Snips and snails and puppy dogs' tails?"

Its laughter was muffled as the cloud stuff closed around Hellboy's head. He would drown in the stuff. He had to find some way to break free.

He had trouble even grabbing them, and they seemed to have a similar problem with him. If he just moved quickly enough ...

Hellboy launched himself with his powerful legs, whirling about as quickly as he could, once, twice, three times!

"Noooooo!" The smoke things spun away, breaking apart to their individual forms.

Hellboy moved quickly then, shredding the rest of the insubstantial forms with a combination of speed and brute strength. In less than a minute, the cloud things were gone.

He looked around, expecting some further attack. But the corridor was quiet. The two cops still stood some distance away. Both of them stared open-mouthed. Everyone else seemed to have fallen, unconscious, to the floor, as the demons inhabiting them had risen to the attack.

Everyone.

Hellboy realized that Senator Lipton was one of the fallen.

Hellboy heard a series of groans from the floor. A couple of the younger victims sat up.

Hellboy rushed over to Lipton, and knelt by his side.

"Hellboy," the senator whispered. "Lift me up a bit — so I can see you."

Hellboy gently placed a hand behind Lipton's head and lifted his head and shoulders off the floor.

Lipton tried to smile. "We sure had some battles, didn't we?" He drew a ragged breath.

Hellboy struggled to understand. "What happened, Senator?"

Lipton closed his eyes for a moment. "I could not admit it to myself — not consciously." Lipton's voice grew even more hoarse. "I let them inside. One compromise too many. I think they were all that was keeping me alive. A deal with the devil, hey?"

His eyes fluttered again.

"Senator?" Hellboy called. "We'll get help."

Lipton smiled again. "I feel a peace I had forgotten."

He was quiet for a moment after that.

"Senator?" Hellboy called again.

"Call me Freedom," the senator whispered.

His breathing stopped, his eyes staring somewhere beyond this world.

Hellboy lowered him gently to the floor.

Commander Freedom had won his final battle.

Hellboy looked around the hallway.

The others were pushing themselves back to their feet. Most of them looked confused, but no one seemed to be in pain. The younger and stronger would easily revive. Even Senator Shorter, still spread out on the floor, only seemed to be sleeping peacefully, his chest rising and falling, a slight smile on his lips.

Hellboy didn't feel like smiling.

He was drawn to confront these things day after day. As close as they had come, the creatures had not been able to overwhelm him. Perhaps he was immune. Or perhaps such things lived in him already, only waiting for the proper moment to appear.

The others were not so lucky. Every person in that meeting, all movers and shakers in the government, had harbored these secret creatures within. If this was any indication, the demons were everywhere in this place.

"I think I might have to do some further investigation," Hellboy called to the others.

This time, he got no arguments.

"Ms. Gibbons? What say we start with the oval office?"

Hellboy had some work to do.