The decade of the 1950s ended up being one of the busiest for Broom’s Bureau because of the ‘occult wars’ being conducted against the Nazis in Argentina. These wars came to an end in 1958 when Hellboy, in one of the greatest triumphs of his career with the BPRD, beat a cybernetic Adolf Hitler to death with its own mechanical leg. The Second World War, which many thought ended with the death of Hitler in 1945, had finally come to an end.

However, there was plenty of work left for the Bureau for Paranormal Research and Defense in the cataloging of and, if necessary, intervention in supernatural occurrences from all over the globe. Hellboy remained one of the organization’s top field agents, finally becoming a fully independent one in 1965 after the Bureau’s move to Newark, New Jersey.

Trevor Broom had always had a slight limp due to being shot in the leg in 1944 by some Nazi soldier on that island off the coast of Scotland where he had first encountered Hellboy. The enforced bed rest in 1959 due to his long hospitalization for cancer exacerbated a latent arthritis stemming from this wound and Broom ended up using a cane for the rest of his life.

Broom had, before this year, always kept his explanations to Hellboy of his origins somewhat vague. At first this was because he thought Hellboy too young to understand; later Broom just found it easier never to address this issue. After he had been so ill in 1959, he realized that it was time that Hellboy knew everything that Broom knew about his origins.

So on December 23, 1959 Trevor Broom called Hellboy into his office. Hellboy had been expecting some sort of special celebration for his fifteenth birthday; instead he received an account of what actually happened on December 23, 1944 on that island off the coast of Scotland.

It is no understatement to say that Hellboy was dismayed at the probability of his actually being a demon from hell. He interrupted Trevor Broom from something further that he was going to say.

“Father, why didn’t you just have me destroyed right then and there? How do you know that I’m not really evil, or that I don’t have some evil hidden within me that I don’t even know about?”

“Son,” Trevor Broom replied, “That is exactly the one thing that do I know for sure about you; you are not evil; of that I was firmly convinced on that evening in 1944 and I am just as convinced about that now. What the people who did this conjuring intended on that evening is no longer pertinent to me. I am firmly convinced that in some strange way God has sent you to protect the world and it is my duty to raise you, love you, and prepare you for this task.”

“Good,” said Hellboy as he walked out of his father’s office.

As far as Hellboy was concerned this was as much as he would ever need to know about himself—He was the son of Trevor Bruttenholm.

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