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Snow fell thick over the dead forest.
The church had burned a hundred years ago, but its bones still stood.
Charred beams.
A crooked bell tower.
The bell itself still hanging somehow, rusted and crooked, groaning in the wind.
Something lived inside.
Hellboy kicked the church doors open with one heavy boot.
They exploded inward.
“Alright,” he muttered, cigar clenched in his teeth. “Let’s see what crawled outta the basement this time.”
The air inside was wrong.
Wet.
Rotten.
Something breathing.
His huge stone Right Hand of Doom knocked an old lantern aside as he stepped forward. The floorboards creaked under his weight.
Then something moved in the darkness.
A priest stepped out.
Except he wasn’t a priest anymore.
His robes were fused into his skin like melted wax. His jaw hung sideways, teeth black. His eyes glowed faint green like swamp gas.
“Brother Hellboy,” the thing croaked.
Hellboy squinted.
“Yeah, that’s not good.”
The corpse priest raised one shaking hand.
The floor erupted.
Graves burst through the wood.
Hands clawed up from beneath the church like insects digging through dirt. Rotting soldiers. Old settlers. Children. Their bodies twisted and wrong, stitched together by black vines growing out of their bones.
Hellboy sighed.
“Great.”
One lunged.
Hellboy caught it by the skull and smashed it into a support pillar.
Wood cracked.
The corpse slid down in pieces.
Another leaped onto his back, biting down hard into his shoulder.
Hellboy grabbed it by the arm and flung it across the room. The body exploded through a row of pews.
Two more rushed him.
He swung.
The Right Hand of Doom crushed the first skull like a dropped melon.
The second grabbed his throat.
Hellboy headbutted it.
Crunch.
Teeth scattered across the floor.
Behind them the priest laughed, coughing up grave dirt.
“You are too late.”
The vines inside the bodies began twitching.
Growing.
All the corpses suddenly rushed him at once.
Hellboy pulled the Good Samaritan from his coat.
The massive revolver roared.
BOOM.
One corpse evaporated into black pulp.
BOOM.
Another’s chest blew open.
But they kept coming.
A dozen bodies slammed into him, dragging him down under claws and teeth and snapping bones.
Hellboy growled.
“Alright.”
He drove the Right Hand into the floor.
The stone cracked.
Then he ripped the entire section of floor upward, sending corpses flying like rag dolls.
Hellboy stood.
Breathing heavy.
The priest was still smiling.
Behind him, the bell tower began ringing.
Clang.
Clang.
Clang.
But no one was pulling the rope.
Hellboy looked up.
The bell was bleeding.
Black liquid ran down the tower walls like oil.
“Ah hell.”
Something massive crawled down the inside of the tower.
Legs.
Too many.
Eyes glowing green like the priest’s.
A spider thing the size of a truck dropped into the church with a thunderous crash. Its body was made of bones tied together with those same black vines.
The priest whispered proudly.
“The bell calls the old gods.”
The spider lunged.
Hellboy stepped forward instead.
“Yeah?”
He spun the revolver cylinder.
BOOM.
One eye exploded.
The spider shrieked.
It smashed him through a wall.
Hellboy hit the snow outside like a meteor.
The creature crawled out after him, limbs cracking trees as it came.
Hellboy spit out the cigar.
Stood up.
Cracked his neck.
“Alright you ugly son of a bitch.”
The spider rushed him.
Hellboy waited.
Waited.
Waited.
Then he stepped aside at the last second and drove the Right Hand of Doom straight through the creature’s skull.
The bone body shattered apart like glass.
Black vines shriveled instantly.
Silence returned to the forest.
Behind him the church collapsed with a long groan.
Hellboy dusted snow off his coat.
He lit another cigar.
“Man,” he muttered.
“I really hate churches.”
The church had burned a hundred years ago, but its bones still stood.
Charred beams.
A crooked bell tower.
The bell itself still hanging somehow, rusted and crooked, groaning in the wind.
Something lived inside.
Hellboy kicked the church doors open with one heavy boot.
They exploded inward.
“Alright,” he muttered, cigar clenched in his teeth. “Let’s see what crawled outta the basement this time.”
The air inside was wrong.
Wet.
Rotten.
Something breathing.
His huge stone Right Hand of Doom knocked an old lantern aside as he stepped forward. The floorboards creaked under his weight.
Then something moved in the darkness.
A priest stepped out.
Except he wasn’t a priest anymore.
His robes were fused into his skin like melted wax. His jaw hung sideways, teeth black. His eyes glowed faint green like swamp gas.
“Brother Hellboy,” the thing croaked.
Hellboy squinted.
“Yeah, that’s not good.”
The corpse priest raised one shaking hand.
The floor erupted.
Graves burst through the wood.
Hands clawed up from beneath the church like insects digging through dirt. Rotting soldiers. Old settlers. Children. Their bodies twisted and wrong, stitched together by black vines growing out of their bones.
Hellboy sighed.
“Great.”
One lunged.
Hellboy caught it by the skull and smashed it into a support pillar.
Wood cracked.
The corpse slid down in pieces.
Another leaped onto his back, biting down hard into his shoulder.
Hellboy grabbed it by the arm and flung it across the room. The body exploded through a row of pews.
Two more rushed him.
He swung.
The Right Hand of Doom crushed the first skull like a dropped melon.
The second grabbed his throat.
Hellboy headbutted it.
Crunch.
Teeth scattered across the floor.
Behind them the priest laughed, coughing up grave dirt.
“You are too late.”
The vines inside the bodies began twitching.
Growing.
All the corpses suddenly rushed him at once.
Hellboy pulled the Good Samaritan from his coat.
The massive revolver roared.
BOOM.
One corpse evaporated into black pulp.
BOOM.
Another’s chest blew open.
But they kept coming.
A dozen bodies slammed into him, dragging him down under claws and teeth and snapping bones.
Hellboy growled.
“Alright.”
He drove the Right Hand into the floor.
The stone cracked.
Then he ripped the entire section of floor upward, sending corpses flying like rag dolls.
Hellboy stood.
Breathing heavy.
The priest was still smiling.
Behind him, the bell tower began ringing.
Clang.
Clang.
Clang.
But no one was pulling the rope.
Hellboy looked up.
The bell was bleeding.
Black liquid ran down the tower walls like oil.
“Ah hell.”
Something massive crawled down the inside of the tower.
Legs.
Too many.
Eyes glowing green like the priest’s.
A spider thing the size of a truck dropped into the church with a thunderous crash. Its body was made of bones tied together with those same black vines.
The priest whispered proudly.
“The bell calls the old gods.”
The spider lunged.
Hellboy stepped forward instead.
“Yeah?”
He spun the revolver cylinder.
BOOM.
One eye exploded.
The spider shrieked.
It smashed him through a wall.
Hellboy hit the snow outside like a meteor.
The creature crawled out after him, limbs cracking trees as it came.
Hellboy spit out the cigar.
Stood up.
Cracked his neck.
“Alright you ugly son of a bitch.”
The spider rushed him.
Hellboy waited.
Waited.
Waited.
Then he stepped aside at the last second and drove the Right Hand of Doom straight through the creature’s skull.
The bone body shattered apart like glass.
Black vines shriveled instantly.
Silence returned to the forest.
Behind him the church collapsed with a long groan.
Hellboy dusted snow off his coat.
He lit another cigar.
“Man,” he muttered.
“I really hate churches.”
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