Once upon a time in Mexico.

[crownedwithfire.livejournal.com]

It is the 1960s in Mexico. It was a good time, once. He loved this place; the food, the people. This is a long time before Ciudad Juarez lets it's women die and gives drug cartels an opening to create the murder capitol of the world. It is, as they say, a more innocent time. Whether this is really true remains to be seen.

This little down looks like something out of a movies; buildings in the old style. Pueblo has not gone away. Sombreros and ponchos help beat the heat. Somewhere, a stray dog chases chickens through the streets that are not paved. There is a single truck to the entire village. To call it 'remote' is something of an understatement.

Hellboy likes remote. He has a some really good tequila, a table and an empty chair. He was more innocent, then. He didn't know half of what he did. It's hard to tell that he's a teenager - he looks the same as he always has. It's a sunny afternoon, giving way slowly to the warm evening breeze off the badlands.

He waits for company.



[Yeah, my first clumsy OPN post. Things are always deceptive in Hellboy's world, so you never know if a pleasant night in Mexico will turn into a night of fighting Mexican vampires, so... who knows what can happen.]

Comments

[badbulletshield.livejournal.com]

[ This place is peaceful -- something Abel isn't used to -- and in spite of the fact that the heat reminds him almost of a sweltering summer in Carthage, even weather unfit for wearing a cassock can't really ruin the little village's charm. It's dusty, isolated, and he knows that if he draws a second glance, it's only because he's never been here, before, probably never will be, again. Anonymity is always a reassuring feeling, though it rarely ever lasts.

So he'll spend every minute of it that he can playing the happy tourist, not worrying on whatever sort of job it is he must have been sent here for. Sightseeing has always taken precedent over work, with him, anyway -- even when there aren't really any sights to see.

Well, almost. He doesn't even realize he's staring at the only other stranger on the street who looked the least bit out of place (if quite comfortable at his table) until well after it had become markedly impolite. Now he had to say something. ]

Oh my. Ah, that's quite an impressive sunburn!

[ All things considered, it's far from the worst way he's ever introduced himself. ]

[crownedwithfire.livejournal.com]

[]

Forgot my sunscreen. Have tequila instead. Fair trade, I think.

[badbulletshield.livejournal.com]

[ On second thought, he decides, there's definitely something more peculiar than just that bright red about this individual -- but he can't quite put his finger on it, and that means it probably isn't worth puzzling out, right at the moment.

Instead, he'll settle for catching that contagious laugh, a light and cheerful sound when reflected in his near falsetto voice. ]

Well, I can't fault your logic, there. That does sound like a decent compromise.

[crownedwithfire.livejournal.com]

I thought so. I'll share, if you like.

[badbulletshield.livejournal.com]

Oh my. While I appreciate the offer, I'm afraid I really couldn't. I've never handled my liquor very well... Uh, it's even gotten me into trouble with the Church a few times, you know.

[ He flashes a sheepish smile, though it's probably not quite as ashamed as he should be, for such an admission. ] But if you wouldn't mind the company, still? It's been an awfully dreary day without much decent conversation.

[tiniestoverlord.livejournal.com]

[Peaceful again--and Laharl's getting tired of it. He stumbles into the little building, and quickly realizes again that he's in a peaceful dream--which stinks, really, he's starting to yearn to fight something, anything. And just in case, his hand is on the handle of his impressively large sword.

Once he notices Hellboy, though, he realizes he's not the only demon in town.]

[crownedwithfire.livejournal.com]

Ain't you a little young for this cantina?

[]

[tiniestoverlord.livejournal.com]

[He just shivers at the sight of the waitress before turning his attention to Hellboy. Well-endowed women do not mesh well with him, as far as he's concerned.]

I'm 1316 years old, I'm way over the age limit.

[crownedwithfire.livejournal.com]

That's a big number, kid. You only look the first two digits of it, though.

[tiniestoverlord.livejournal.com]

[Twitch, twitch.]

I do not!

[steady-darkness.livejournal.com]

Peace. Peace and quiet was something Cilan had adjusted to well in his own world - well, and whenever he slipped into dreams, he didn't expect it to be like this. That was, when he knew he was dreaming.

Tonight, he knew clearly this wasn't near to Unova. So he must be dreaming.

...Plus there's a red guy, as well. Who doesn't look like he's on fire or anything which would cause redness in a normal person. That's important to remember, and it doesn't look... normal. With his trademark smile, and his Pansage resting on his head, Cilan strode over with slight confidence.

"...A-are you okay?" he asked, trying not to show his own worry. Maybe this was normal for wherever or whoever this was! Who knows?

[crownedwithfire.livejournal.com]

"Sure am, kiddo," says the big man, looking down at Cilan. He looks down on everyone, though-- pushing eight feet tall means never having to look up to anything except Cthonic horrors from beyond the moon, most of the time.

"Are you okay? You look a little lost." Too worried, too white to be local. A passer-by, maybe. Hellboy rationalizes so much weird. It's a job skill.

[steady-darkness.livejournal.com]

"Ah, well, I am." Cilan admitted, with a nervous chuckle. Even though that wasn't the... technical truth, it would help with gathering information about where he was, at the very least. And that was always good. "I took a wrong turn somewhere... somewhere, I think."

[crownedwithfire.livejournal.com]

"It's easy to make a wrong turn. Just don't do it out there," he says, gesturing at the badlands. "That'll lead you some dangerous places. Here, it might just lead yuo into somebody's house and someone's mama may yell and throw the laundry at you."

It's a peaceful village. No trouble.

Except at night.

[teddyling.livejournal.com]

...Mexico? Teddy's eyes widen as he finds himself suddenly... in Mexico. Or rather, like a Western movie version of Mexico. He's pretty sure that ponchos and sombreros have long gone out of style, and the revolvers everyone seems to have are not at all what he'd expect. What on earth was going on? Of course... it doesn't help that he pops in in full green Hulkling mode, with armor plating and claws and everything. Needless to say, that doesn't exactly make him popular with the locals. And he doesn't particularly want to explain, after the fact, why the bullets being pumped into him aren't more than an inconvenience.

So, in a bit of desperation, he goes to the one person he sees that might be able to help. A guy with red skin, who looks like he's waiting for someone. At least no one's bothering him, so perhaps that will help. Teddy walks up to him, offering a smile as he did so. "Excuse me, but can you help me? I'm... not entirely sure where I am."

[crownedwithfire.livejournal.com]

They did go out of style, in some places. In others, Mexico remains a very traditional place. It's also about fifty years in Teddy's past.

"You're in Mexico," Hellboy explains. "Little village. Not real fancy."

[teddyling.livejournal.com]

None of that had occurred to Teddy yet. Time could be a tricky thing to tell, especially when one had no outside references to guess it by. Besides, it's not like he's an expert on the subject. So when the red-skinned man said that, Teddy quietly nodded. Better that than to show his shock over the pronouncement. "I see... I don't suppose you know how I got here?"

Because, for the life of him, the young man can't think of any reason he'd ever be in Mexico. Especially not to a little village like this, and definitely not alone.