"Where is Hellboy now?"
Alex snapped back to the present, eyes locking on Raven.
"Still outside the base," she replied, arms folded. "No one wanted to bring in a literal demon without your go-ahead."
A being summoned from the depths of Hell—not something you invited in lightly.
Alex considered for a moment, then nodded.
This wasn't about Hellboy.
She was one of theirs now.
And her history with the red-skinned demon complicated things.
Letting Hellboy in would give her closure—maybe a final chance to say goodbye.
Or… it would reveal she hadn't truly committed to this path.
Either way, Alex would allow it.
But he wouldn't force anything.
If Liz wanted to leave, she was free to walk.
This wasn't like Emma, whose power and influence required containment.
Potential, absolutely.
Raven turned on her heel and headed for the outer gates.
Alex exhaled, then made his way to the briefing room.
Inside, Emma, Mimic, Hank, and Liz were already waiting.
The air was charged. Even Mimic looked tense—arms crossed, jaw tight.
"Alex, how are you handling the demon situation?"
Emma asked with an arched brow, voice practically purring.
She thrived in messes .
"You're lucky he didn't show up shirtless and carrying a bouquet," Mimic muttered.
"Alex, I'm sorry for the trouble."
Liz stepped forward, cutting through the banter.
Her tone was steady. Not defensive. Not apologetic.
"But I'll talk to him. I won't leave with him."
Alex studied her for a beat, then gave a light nod.
"No rush. He's here. Talk it out. Make sure."
"I don't need time. I've already decided."
She was done running.
Moments later, the doors hissed open again—Raven returned with their guest.
He was everything the legends said and more.
A towering figure of crimson muscle, yellow eyes glowing faintly, filed-down horns atop his massive brow.
His Right Hand of Doom—a stone gauntlet larger than most torsos—hung heavy at his side.
No Abe Sapien in sight. Just him.
And when he spotted Liz—
Striding forward with more desperation than rage.
"Are you okay? Did they hurt you? What the hell happened?"
For a moment, his hardened features softened.
He looked less like the son of Satan and more like a worried friend.
Or maybe something more.
But Liz's voice was cold.
"I'm fine. Red, you shouldn't have come."
"Don't say that. Come back with me. Please."
"Liz, I know what they did hurt you. I know it's been hard. But me, the Professor, Abe—we never gave up on you. You don't have to do this alone."
"Those idiots don't matter." Her voice cracked. "I ignored them before. I'll ignore them again."
"Then do it with me. Come back."
"My decision's made. Tell the Professor… I'm sorry."
Hellboy's jaw tightened.
He wasn't hearing this.
"Liz, please. These people aren't your family. I am."
His voice broke slightly.
"She's made herself clear."
Raven's voice was flat, warning.
But Hellboy wasn't backing down.
His head snapped toward her, finger jabbing the air.
"I'm not going anywhere without her! And you—this doesn't concern y— urk!"
His words died as Alex's hand closed around his throat.
In one fluid motion, Alex lifted Hellboy clean off the floor, like a child picking up a disobedient dog.
No ceremony. No anger.
Hellboy thrashed, legs kicking, hand flexing—but it was useless.
The demon who had stared down apocalyptic threats…
Now dangled like a rag doll.
What the hell is this guy?!
Hellboy's mind reeled.
He'd felt strength before.
But this? This was something else.
The power Alex radiated wasn't just physical.
For the first time in his life…
Alex's voice was like frost.
"Liz said no. Leave."
With a casual flick of his wrist, Alex hurled Hellboy across the courtyard.
He crashed into the pavement with enough force to crater it, skidding nearly twenty meters before coming to a stop in a pile of shattered concrete.
"Fine! You asked for it!"
Hellboy roared, dragging himself upright.
He charged, hooves thundering against the stone.
"Red, STOP!" Liz screamed.
His Right Hand of Doom cocked back, ready to swing.
A blow that could crush steel beams. Shatter tanks.
He lunged—fist slamming toward Alex's chest—
He met the blow with his own.
A clean, closed-fist counter.
Hellboy flew backward—not staggered, not pushed.
He crashed through a reinforced wall with enough force to level part of the training wing.
Bricks. Rebar. Metal beams.
"Demon wrath? Please.
For 60 advanced chapters, visit my :
https://.com/Twilight_scribe1