Chapter 116: Cleanup
Mason looked down at his personal terminal, which clearly displayed:
"Hellboy acquired. Deliver Hellboy to Schmidt within 48 hours."
Mason wasn't sure if it was just his imagination, but he felt there was something subtly off about this mission notification.
The merging of the two worlds had completely altered the Hellboy movie's storyline, significantly impacting the plot of Captain America: The First Avenger.
Mason didn't know if this change was beneficial or detrimental, but for now, he felt he had lost some of his foreknowledge regarding the plot.
He didn't know if this world merging was an inevitable consequence of his increasing experience with different realities, or if some unknown change had occurred within the Time-Space Express company, leading to this fusion.
Mason needed to verify all of this in subsequent missions, but he sensed this merging wasn't a normal occurrence.
To give an analogy, it was like a corporation suddenly changing its CEO—although the projects remained the same, the entire company's management structure and operational framework underwent a major overhaul.
However, he was currently just a trainee courier, too low-ranking to access more critical information. His immediate priority was to complete his missions, improve his rank, and survive.
"Hey, what did you catch?"
a voice came from behind.
Mason turned around.
A man in his thirties, wearing glasses and with disheveled hair, was curiously examining Hellboy in Mason's arms.
It was Professor Trevor Bruttenholm.
"I caught a little guy."
"May I see him?"
A fierce battle was still raging outside, and it wasn't convenient to carry Hellboy around. Mason hesitated for a moment before handing him to Professor Bruttenholm.
Professor Bruttenholm removed his coat, wrapped it around Hellboy, and fed him chocolate bit by bit.
"Take care of him for me—I'm going to handle the situation outside!" Mason said, rushing out quickly.
Outside the abbey, the remaining German forces had been eliminated, and Allied soldiers were desperately fighting demons that had emerged from the portal.
The demons were thick-skinned and incredibly fast. Ordinary firearms only caused superficial damage, not serious injury, and instead fueled their aggression.
Steve and Kroenen were already locked in decisive combat and couldn't spare a moment. By the time Mason emerged, many soldiers had already fallen to the demons' attacks.
"Everyone, rally on me!"
Mason shouted, picking up a rifle from the ground. The gloomy rain didn't obstruct his vision—he raised the weapon and fired.
Three bullets erupted from the muzzle, piercing the eye sockets of one demon, penetrating its entire skull, and spraying out a cloud of blood and gray matter.
An Allied soldier narrowly escaped being disemboweled by a demon's claws, and was momentarily frozen after surviving.
"What are you standing there for? Move to my position!"
These demons were too fast. In the darkness, ordinary soldiers couldn't even aim properly, and firing blindly risked hitting friendlies. If this continued, all the soldiers would likely be slaughtered.
Mason shouted, but his hands didn't stop moving.
"BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!"
He focused his mind and body, his rifle moving steadily and quickly, each shot blowing off a demon's head. These creatures had two heads—even after one head was destroyed, they wouldn't die immediately, only temporarily losing mobility.
With this brief respite, ordinary soldiers could easily finish them off.
In just a few seconds, at least five demons had died by Mason's hand, and several Allied soldiers had rallied to his position.
They formed an attack formation with Mason at the front, greatly relieving the pressure on the other troops.
"Click-click!"
The magazine ran dry, and before he could reload, a crimson blur flashed before his eyes, and a demon lunged at Mason.
"Look out!!"
Two soldiers standing beside Mason shouted, but with their reaction speed, they didn't even have time to adjust their aim before seeing the demon pounce.
The demons were incredibly powerful—many Allied soldiers had been crushed and killed instantly by their charges.
Two soldiers were close enough to smell the pungent sulfur emanating from the creature.
"Bad move!"
Mason growled, sharp blades extending from his gauntlets. He shifted his weight slightly, his right foot pushing off the ground as he raised his hands, preemptively driving his claws into the demon's throat.
"Down!"
The bio-battery in his chest continuously supplied energy, and Mason unleashed his full strength, slamming the demon to the ground despite its momentum.
With a powerful slash, accompanied by the sound of flesh tearing, he ripped both the demon's heads clean off its neck!
"Sir, here!"
A soldier handed him a loaded rifle. Taking aim and firing, Mason re-entered his previous zone of surgical precision.
His expression was cold, his eyes sharp. With his forceful intervention, all the Allied soldiers quickly regained their formation and launched a full-scale counteroffensive.
The cold rain lashed their faces, soaking their uniforms, but all the Allied soldiers felt a surge of heat, a strange, powerful energy coursing through their chests.
They didn't know Mason's name, but standing beside him felt incredibly reassuring.
Captain America focused more on tactical coordination, his fighting style relatively conservative, as fluid and adaptable as his iconic shield.
Mason's command style and combat methods were completely different from Captain America—his actions were bolder, his style brutal, full of savage efficiency.
It made one want to unleash their primal aggression.
In a word: badass.
Mason's cleanup was nearing completion, while Steve, completely focused, quickly finished his battle.
Kroenen's attack methods would likely be a major problem for most opponents, but Steve, wielding his shield and fighting methodically, was his perfect counter. Before long, Steve severed Kroenen's hand and drove a combat knife through his chest.
Even so, the man didn't die immediately—like a fish out of water, his body convulsed continuously before finally falling still.
"Take his body back and turn it over to Strategic Scientific Reserve. We need to understand his physiology—it'll be useful in the final assault,"
Steve ordered, turning around.
"That guy wearing the gas mask, hiding his face like that—I want to see what he looks like!" A bearded soldier stepped forward, removed Kroenen's mask, and muttered.
"Jesus Christ!"
Everyone recoiled.
What appeared before them was a pale, distorted face, covered in surgical stitches, with bulging eyes and bright red muscle tissue visible around the sockets. His teeth were clenched, as if he had lost the ability to speak.
"With a face like that, he's better off keeping the mask on." Hastily replacing the mask, Kroenen's corpse was dragged away by the others.
"Has anyone seen Sergeant Barnes?" Steve looked around but couldn't locate Bucky, so he asked.
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