1: Welcome to Oboroten

"This is Main Street?" snorted Liz Sherman, peering out of the window of a large, all-terrain vehicle. The dirt road ahead of them wove between two tiny buildings. One bore the sign "Oboroten Post Office", the other, "General Store".

"Well, the town's a little hard to get to, Liz. The mountains we just came through were difficult to manage, and this is summer. Most of the year they would be completely impassable," said Abraham Sapien

"Some summer," muttered Liz, pulling her coat tighter about her. The valley looked green and inviting but the temperature outside still hovered around the low 40s. "You're quiet, Johann. Picking up on anything?"

An ectoplasm-filled containment suit laced its gloved fingers together. A German-accented voice emanated from the suit's bubble-like head, "Nein. There are many conflicting signals, producing a vague din. It is… confusing."

Roger the homunculus simply stared at the unfamiliar scenery with rapt, child-like enthusiasm. "Look!" he declared, pointing a muddy finger at a particular tree, "A bird!"

Liz squinted and picked out the white head and cynical yellow gaze of a bald eagle among the greenery. "Neat, Roger," she said, flashing him a genuine smile. The homunculus' unabashed enthusiasm for life often led him to observations the more jaded agents missed.

Phil, their military-appointed driver, stopped the van and rubbed his blonde buzz cut. "We're here. You guys mind if I go have a smoke while you talk to whatshisname?"

"No problem," said Liz, her own nicotine-stained fingers twitching for a cigarette after the long van ride. The special agents of the B.P.R.D. emerged from the sliding doors of the van and stretched in the sunlight. They stood in front of a modest log cabin set a little ways back into the woods. Next to the door was a tarnished brass plaque stating: Town Hall.

They stared at the structure incredulously for a bit before Abe stepped forward and knocked on the door. The door was flung open almost immediately by a large, bearded man in a flannel shirt.

Piercing green eyes glared at them from under bristling grey brows. "You from the Bureau?" he growled. He paused for a moment and gave them a second going-over, taking in the fish-man, the homunculus, and the walking containment suit. "Ah," he said, scratching his grizzled beard, "Well, I guess you must be. Sorry 'bout that. Come on in."

The Town Hall seemed to double as a home. In addition to a very old desk it contained a small bed, a sink, and a wood-burning stove. The large man reached out a hairy hand to Abe, who he seemed to immediately size up as the leader. "John Vilkolakis, pleasure to meetcha, mister…?"

"Abe Sapien," said Abe, completing the handshake with his own webbed, blue-green hand, "And these are my associates Liz Sherman, Johann Kraus, and Roger."

The large man nodded, completely unfazed by the group's strange appearance. "Please, sit yerselves down," he said, motioning to some mismatched chairs, "Ya want some coffee?"

Roger raised his hand eagerly, and Vilkolakis poured him a cup from a tin kettle bubbling on top of the wood stove. The bearded man then leaned back against the desk and took a sip from his own cup.

"I suppose we should get down to business. I asked you here because a monster has been killing my people."

"You're sure this is a monster?" asked Abe, pursing his blue lips, "There are a lot of large predators in this area. Grizzly bears, in particular, often develop a taste for human flesh."

Vilkolakis then did a surprising thing. He began to laugh. Deep, uncontrollable guffaws rumbled from his chest. He slapped his knees, took a few deep breaths and wiped small tears from the corners of his green eyes. "A grizzly? Kill one of my people? We're a little harder to kill then that."

Abe sat bolt upright in his chair. "Oboroten, Vilkolakis… I thought that those names sounded familiar. You're werewolves."

Vilkolakis nodded mildly. "Myep. We came over here from Europe in the sixteenth century. Wasn't really much room over there for werewolves to run around any more; certain loners were getting desperate, killing livestock, sometimes humans. Things were getting dangerous. So we left. Here we got plenty of room."

Liz was holding a small ball of fire in the palm of her hand and watching the shaggy man warily. He stared at her, looking somewhat offended.

"Could you put that away, miss? You fellows should know, just 'cause someone's a little different don't make 'em monsters. All the packs alive today is civilized now. We have to be, otherwise we would've been wiped out. We're in control of our shifts most of the time. No more rampages, just a pack hunt during the moon-shift to work off a little of that extra energy."

"Aha," said Johann, "This explains the odd signals. Vervulfs."

"So there's something out there killing lycanthropes?" cried Liz, pointing out of a narrow window at the dark trees. "You've got to be kidding me."

"Killing and eating, miss. After the last full moon hunt two weeks ago we noticed that three of our own were missing. That's not so unusual. Sometimes people get a little carried away and get separated from the group. They always make their way back to town. But these one's didn't. We sent some people out to look for them. All they found were some gnawed bones and discarded intestines."

The man paused and stared down at his coffee for a somber moment. "There's a human town about a hundred miles away. And if this thing managed to kill three of us, I hate to think of what it'll do to them."

Abe stood up purposefully. "Don't worry, Mr. Vilkolakis, we'll take care of the problem. Let's go guys; we don't know how much time we have."

The team stood and began to leave. "Wait!" barked Vilkolakis suddenly, "I don't know how much firepower you guys got, but I do know one thing: you don't know the area. I'd like to send one of my people with you to help track this thing down. Consider it a token of appreciation."

"I'm not sure if that's really necessary," began Abe irritably. Liz gave him a warning look. He paused.

"I ain't asking," growled Vilkolakis, "This thing killed three of ours and one of us is gonna be there when it's killed."

Abe clenched and unclenched his fists, drew a calming breath. "Fine," he conceded.

The lycanthrope's menacing manner immediately dissipated. He fished a crumpled piece of paper out of a desk drawer and scribbled an address on it.

"This is Mrs. Faoladh's place a little down the road. Go there and ask for Mutt. She don't always remember her place, but she's the best damn tracker we got. Good luck."

The team descended the cabin steps and made their way back to the van. "Good luck hunting down something that thinks werewolves make a nice midnight snack? We'll need it," muttered Liz.

Author's note:I have, at the moment, read all of the Hellboy TPBs. When I started writing this, I had only read B.P.R.D. through the Black Flame arc. Now I'm caught up through Garden of Souls.

I'm trying to write this story as a one-shot mission in the theme of Dark Water and There's Something Under My Bed. This means a lot of exposition and random local people characters. You've been warned.

These werewolves, obviously, are very different from the cursed werewolves/ghosts of The Wolves of St. August. They are naturally occurring werewolves in the line of selkies and other shapeshifters, not cursed humans. Why werewolves? Because werewolves are awesome.

A few, completely respectful questions. Why are there so many movieverse fics in the Hellboy comics section? Why is there not a Hellboy movie section? Get it together, FF. Also, if you haven't read the comics, go do so. NOW. Not only are they the best mainstream comic series out there at the moment, but this fic is based on the comics. The movie was fine, but it really doesn't compare to the comics.