[Krauss runs into Hellboy in a locker room]
Krauss: Gute nacht, Agent Hellboy. [Hellboy gives him an annoyed look] Look, Agent, I know you don't like me, but I could take away your badge.
Hellboy: Never had one. Kept asking, though.
Krauss: You will learn to obey me, follow protocol and stay fockused at all times!
Hellboy: Oh, that word – "fock-yused"? Yeah, with your accent, I wouldn't use it that much.
Krauss: I knew Professor Broom, young man.
Hellboy: You didn't know Professor Broom.
Krauss: Yes, I did!
Hellboy: [Dismissively] Shut up.
Krauss: After my accident–
Hellboy: Shut up!
Krauss: ...he designed this containment suit. A wonderful man. And even then he was worried about your future. He–
Hellboy: [Pointing at him angrily] Hey, gasbag, stop it! Right now.
Krauss: Or what? Are you threatening me? Because I think I can take you.
Hellboy: Excuse me?
Krauss: You heard me.
Hellboy: [Stepping towards him] I couldn't hear you from all the way over there.
Krauss: I can take you. Because you have one fatal flaw.
Hellboy: Oh, I wanna hear it.
Krauss: [Chuckling] No, you don't! You can't take criticism.
Hellboy: Try me.
Krauss: [Pokes Hellboy mockingly] Can't take it.
Hellboy: [Growls and gets right in Johann's face] WHAT'S MY FLAW?!
Krauss: Your temper! It gets the best of you. Makes you weak, makes you vulnerable–
[Hellboy punches Johann, smashing his glass headpiece and letting his gaseous form flow out; it vanishes under the lockers, while his suit slumps onto the floor]
Hellboy: Oh, crap– Johann? Johann? Johann? Hey, Johann? [Glances around uneasily] C'mon, pal, hang in there, will ya? Johann? Johann! [Giving up, he leans against the lockers] ...Damn. [sips from a can of beer; suddenly, a locker door slams into his face] –Ow.
[More locker doors slam into him en masse, knocking him to the floor, where one leaves itself with an indent of his face; he then sits on a bench, inspects the can and tosses it away after finding it emptied from his 'battle' with the lockers; Johann's gaseous form reemerges from the lockers]
Krauss: [Cheerfully] There we are. Your temper – it makes you sloppy. Try to control it, Agent Hellboy, before it controls you. [Walks away, singing to himself in German]
Hellboy: Glasshole.
  
  
  
  
  
   
  
  
Krauss: Gute nacht, Agent Hellboy. [Hellboy gives him an annoyed look] Look, Agent, I know you don't like me, but I could take away your badge.
Hellboy: Never had one. Kept asking, though.
Krauss: You will learn to obey me, follow protocol and stay fockused at all times!
Hellboy: Oh, that word – "fock-yused"? Yeah, with your accent, I wouldn't use it that much.
Krauss: I knew Professor Broom, young man.
Hellboy: You didn't know Professor Broom.
Krauss: Yes, I did!
Hellboy: [Dismissively] Shut up.
Krauss: After my accident–
Hellboy: Shut up!
Krauss: ...he designed this containment suit. A wonderful man. And even then he was worried about your future. He–
Hellboy: [Pointing at him angrily] Hey, gasbag, stop it! Right now.
Krauss: Or what? Are you threatening me? Because I think I can take you.
Hellboy: Excuse me?
Krauss: You heard me.
Hellboy: [Stepping towards him] I couldn't hear you from all the way over there.
Krauss: I can take you. Because you have one fatal flaw.
Hellboy: Oh, I wanna hear it.
Krauss: [Chuckling] No, you don't! You can't take criticism.
Hellboy: Try me.
Krauss: [Pokes Hellboy mockingly] Can't take it.
Hellboy: [Growls and gets right in Johann's face] WHAT'S MY FLAW?!
Krauss: Your temper! It gets the best of you. Makes you weak, makes you vulnerable–
[Hellboy punches Johann, smashing his glass headpiece and letting his gaseous form flow out; it vanishes under the lockers, while his suit slumps onto the floor]
Hellboy: Oh, crap– Johann? Johann? Johann? Hey, Johann? [Glances around uneasily] C'mon, pal, hang in there, will ya? Johann? Johann! [Giving up, he leans against the lockers] ...Damn. [sips from a can of beer; suddenly, a locker door slams into his face] –Ow.
[More locker doors slam into him en masse, knocking him to the floor, where one leaves itself with an indent of his face; he then sits on a bench, inspects the can and tosses it away after finding it emptied from his 'battle' with the lockers; Johann's gaseous form reemerges from the lockers]
Krauss: [Cheerfully] There we are. Your temper – it makes you sloppy. Try to control it, Agent Hellboy, before it controls you. [Walks away, singing to himself in German]
Hellboy: Glasshole.
 [Krauss runs into Hellboy in a locker room]  
 Krauss :  Gute nacht , Agent Hellboy.  [Hellboy gives him an annoyed look]  Look, Agent, I know you don't like me, but I could take away your badge. 
 Hellboy : Never had one. Kept asking, though. 
 Krauss : You will learn to obey me, follow protocol and stay fockused at all times! 
 Hellboy : Oh, that word – "fock-yused"? Yeah, with your accent, I wouldn't use it that much. 
 Krauss : I knew Professor Broom, young man. 
 Hellboy : You didn't know Professor Broom. 
 Krauss : Yes, I did! 
 Hellboy :  [Dismissively]  Shut up. 
 Krauss : After my accident– 
 Hellboy : Shut up! 
 Krauss : ...he designed this containment suit. A wonderful man. And even then he was worried about your future. He– 
 Hellboy :  [Pointing at him angrily]  Hey, gasbag, stop it! Right now. 
 Krauss : Or what? Are you threatening me? Because I think I can take you. 
 Hellboy :  Excuse me?  
 Krauss : You heard me. 
 Hellboy :  [Stepping towards him]  I couldn't hear you from all the way over there. 
 Krauss : I can take you. Because you have one fatal flaw. 
 Hellboy : Oh, I wanna hear it. 
 Krauss :  [Chuckling]  No, you don't! You can't take criticism. 
 Hellboy : Try me. 
 Krauss :  [Pokes Hellboy mockingly]  Can't take it. 
 Hellboy :  [Growls and gets right in Johann's face]   WHAT'S MY FLAW?!  
 Krauss : Your  temper!  It gets the best of you. Makes you weak, makes you vulnerable– 
 [Hellboy punches Johann, smashing his glass headpiece and letting his gaseous form flow out; it vanishes under the lockers, while his suit slumps onto the floor]  
 Hellboy : Oh, crap– Johann? Johann? Johann? Hey, Johann?  [Glances around uneasily]  C'mon, pal, hang in there, will ya? Johann? Johann!  [Giving up, he leans against the lockers]  ...Damn.  [sips from a can of beer; suddenly, a locker door slams into his face]  –Ow. 
 [More locker doors slam into him en masse, knocking him to the floor, where one leaves itself with an indent of his face; he then sits on a bench, inspects the can and tosses it away after finding it emptied from his 'battle' with the lockers; Johann's gaseous form reemerges from the lockers]  
 Krauss :  [Cheerfully]  There we are. Your temper – it makes you sloppy. Try to control it, Agent Hellboy, before it controls you.  [Walks away, singing to himself in German]  
 Hellboy : Glasshole. 
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