Hellboy. A demon on Earth. Harbinger of the Apocalypse. The one to bring the Earth to its knees. BPRD lead investigator. Trusted friend and ally. A guy just trying to live life, drink beer, and smoke cigars.
Hellboy stands as a towering figure of defiance against the forces of destruction. His rugged exterior and the wisps of smoke curling up from his cigar are a stark contrast to the chaos surrounding him.
Then the zombie apocalypse hit.
"As the famous quote goes, 'When there's no more room in Hell, the dead will walk the Earth,' well folks, if you're watching this, our last broadcast, the dead are indeed walking the Earth, and Murdering anyone they find." the disheveled TV newscaster looks at the camera, dark circles under sleep-deprived eyes. "Good luck in the apocalypse." The screen turns to static and then goes dark.
"It wasn't me! I swear it wasn't me!" Hellboy loudly proclaims while holding his hands in the air, spilling beer everywhere as he gesticulates.
____________
That was several years ago now. The BPRD still hangs on, its Colorado headquarters difficult to reach in the best of times, but now it serves as a formidable fortress fending off waves of undead with grim determination. The BPRD still operates to prevent the total annihilation of all life on Earth by working to prevent Hellboy from ascending the throne of Hell, taking his place as the rightful heir and king.
Hellboy has discovered that he has an immunity to the zombie infection, a trait that sets him apart as a crucial asset in the battle for survival. He found out after an agent came back to headquarters with a bite and turned, wreaking havoc and taking several agents with him before Hellboy smashed its head in with his stone hand.
In these dire times, the dangers still exist. Now more than ever. The world needs Hellboy and the BPRD.
