WE ARE MOVING! CLICK THE BANNER FOR REDIRECT! JOIN US AT THE NEW SWAN SONG
Hello and welcome to Swan Song! We are an advanced Supernatural roleplay set in season five. We have an awesome member base, a friendly staff, and are always eager to greet guests and new members.
This community is rated R, as such all members must be eighteen and over to join. Please read over the plot and the rules before joining.
Can Take Down Any Monster, But Runs Like A Bitch From Spiders
Group: Hunters
Posts: 143
Member No.: 7
Joined: 15-March 11
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - IS IT JUST ME, OR DO YOU WONDER IF WE'RE PUT HERE JUST TO SEE HOW MUCH HEARTACHE WE CAN TAKE WITHOUT HANGING FROM THE TALLEST TREE? - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Sastre nodded an absent ascent when Dean said he'd check the other rooms.
At the moment, he was too engrossed by the mangled bodies in front of him to really care about anything else. This was the first time that he'd been first on the scene to one of these murders; in all of the others, the cops had gotten there first and ruined the crime scene in Sastre's opinion. The only time Sastre had seen the bodies of the victims had been at the morgue, after they'd already been autopsied and cleaned up. He couldn't waste this opportunity to try and find out what was behind these killings for himself...
The thing he noticed immediately as he examined the bodies was that the damage didn't seem to be done by anything sharp. There were no claw or teeth marks; there also weren't any clearly identifiable weapon marks, from a knife or longer blade. In fact, it looked like the two people had literally been ripped apart, if the trauma that Sastre was seeing was any indication. That pointed toward something with inhuman strength, which in his line of work could still be any of a dozen different things.
Damn all super-strong monsters to Hell...
Running a hand through his hair, Sastre was about to continue studying the bodies when he suddenly found himself lifted off the ground and thrown across the room. He smashed into a bookshelf, which broke into pieces that rained down upon him as he hit the floor in a daze.
Before he could shake it off, Sastre felt a booted foot drive into his stomach, knocking the breath out of him and sending him twisting through the air yet again. This time he hit the carpeted floor and slid a few feet, where he found himself laying in the mess of gore that used to be his contacts. By now, though, Sastre's adrenaline was pumping, and he didn't plan on giving whatever this thing was another chance to attack.
Drawing his Colt, Sastre rolled aside and sprang to his feet, ignoring the sharp pain coming from his abdomen. His sudden movement proved to be fortuitous, as the recliner from the other side of the room went flying past him to crash into the space he'd just left. Not wanting to waste a single second, Sastre turned to face the thing that was attacking him, aimed, and...
Froze.
There, standing across the room from him, his all-too-familiar face contorted into a sinister smirk, stood his older brother Darian.
Darian... who had died more than ten years earlier.
Group: Hunters
Posts: 287
Member No.: 27
Joined: 5-April 11
Clearing a house room by room was something Dean had learnt from his father. It wasn’t rocket science, you just had to be methodical and thorough, ruling out one area before moving onto the next. You also had to have your wits about you when you were in the situation where the next door you opened could have something big and nasty behind it, waiting patiently to rip your face off as soon as you stepped in. Call it instinct or intuition, but Dean had a bad feeling that the person - or thing - responsible for the carnage in the living room was still in the house. He’d done this dance enough times in the past to trust that feeling too. If only Sam was here to back him up.
Passing quickly through the dining room, taking note of the destruction to the heavy wooden dining table that now lay in splinters at one side of the room - no doubt a casualty of a grand fight that he was surprised didn’t draw the attention of the neighbours from the scale of it - Dean made his way into the kitchen, ever vigilant eyes on all the potential hiding places for someone to conceal themselves from view.
Again this room was empty, though it did provide him with a clue as to how recently there had been activity. A half drunk mug of coffee sat on the counter, still fairly warm when Dean touched his fingers to the side of it. Whatever had happened here, couldn’t have been more than half an hour ago. The thought put him on edge even more than he already was and when the sudden sound of a creaking floorboard over head snapped his attention upwards, he almost shot a hole in the ceiling. A split second later, he was dashing off to find the staircase instead, preferring to put his bullet into something that could actually bleed.
Gun in hand, leading the way, Dean stalked silently up to the second floor, taking the same, methodical approach to sweeping through the rooms, looking for whatever it was that had been moving around up here. With each room checked, Dean’s heart rate increased, anticipating the inevitable attack that would surely come the second he swung the last door in the hall open.
Why’d it always have to be the last door?
Stealing himself from fear, Dean kicked the door open, fully prepared for anything but what he found on the other side. His frown deepened in confusion when he crossed the threshold to find the bedroom devoid of danger. Nothing, no sign of anything, not even lurking in the closet. He did however, notice that the window was wide open, looking down onto the street below, something Dean hadn’t noticed on his approach to the house earlier. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more he was sure none of the front windows had been open at all. Whoever had been here, had escaped this way.
A loud crash came from downstairs, snaring Dean’s immediate attention.
Not escaped, doubled back. Dammit!
Wasting no time, Dean bolted back downstairs just in time to see a man picking up a recliner to throw at Sastre like it was made of feathers. It didn’t take a genius to realise that this was no mere human, which was lucky, because Dean never labelled himself as a Mensa candidate.
Unlike Quicksilver, Dean didn’t hesitate to fire his gun at the man, firing three shots into his back in rapid succession, hoping that would be enough to take him down. He should have known that they wouldn’t do much other than piss him off, regular bullets rarely did but he hadn’t come prepared to be tackling…whatever this was that was looming in front of him.
Can Take Down Any Monster, But Runs Like A Bitch From Spiders
Group: Hunters
Posts: 143
Member No.: 7
Joined: 15-March 11
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - IS IT JUST ME, OR DO YOU WONDER IF WE'RE PUT HERE JUST TO SEE HOW MUCH HEARTACHE WE CAN TAKE WITHOUT HANGING FROM THE TALLEST TREE? - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Sastre could only watch in dumbfounded shock as Dean came into the room, everything going in slow motion.
No, he thought in confusion, brow furrowing as the fought to remain standing on shaking legs. Not a monster... My brother. Darian... How?
It was unreal. Impossible, even. Sastre had spent days sifting through the smoldering wreckage of that vampire nest where he'd lost both Darian and Julien all those long years ago... He'd found the remains of his brother, badly burned, but definitely human. The only human remains he'd found in the entire nest. True, he'd chosen to bury the body--and Julien's body as well--rather than give him a hunter's funeral, but...
But I thought-- hoped, that someday, I'd find a way to bring them back...
Could he really of come back somehow? And if so, why was he attacking Sastre? And why had he slaughtered these people, and most likely the other contacts that had been murdered? Was he possessed? Was he a spirit of some sort? Was he--
Further thought was cut off by the sound of gunshots, and Sastre actually tried to shout for Dean to stop, only to find his voice not working. The shock had simply settled in too deep, and he couldn't shake it. Not even when he saw Darian take the bullets with barely a grunt of reaction before tearing across the room toward Dean.
The fight was on, and Sastre found himself a helpless observer...
Group: Hunters
Posts: 287
Member No.: 27
Joined: 5-April 11
This was rapidly turning into one of those situation that Dean wished he hadn’t roped himself into. If only he hadn’t accepted Sastre’s offer to meet a couple of new contacts back at the laundromat, if only he hadn’t been so desperate for something to distract him from mundane reality, if only he hadn’t come to this crap hole of a back water town where there was nothing but boredom to be found, then he wouldn’t be flying through the air like a rag doll right now, nor would he be crashing into the wooden rails of the staircase as if they were made of toothpicks.
Supernatural creatures really did enjoy mindless destruction and violence.
Perhaps that was why Dean was here right now, firing the remainder of his bullet’s at a monster that wasn’t backing down, because he kind of enjoyed the unpredictability of violence too. That do or die moment when you were backed into a corner facing something scary, testing your courage and worthiness against your enemy.
Or maybe he just had bad luck.
“Sass!” He called out, annoyed that his so called ‘legendary’ partner wasn’t lifting a finger to help him as the Terminator-like man chased him up the stairs. In fact, in the brief glimpse he got of him, it looked like Quicksilver was in shock.
Some legend…
“Little help here wouldn’t go a miss!”
Out of bullets, Dean switched tactics and ran hell for leather up to the second floor to a room he’d took note of on his sweep through the house earlier, pausing only to push a waist high cabinet to the top of the stairs where it crashed down onto his attacker in a rain of books and splintering wood. If he could slow the guy down some, then maybe he’d have time to find what he was looking for.
Come on, come on, come on….I know you’re here somewhere….this is the house of a hunter, right? It’s gotta be here somewhere…
Hastily he’d gone straight for the closets, sweeping the hanging clothes aside like a curtain to fumble at the back for any kind of lever or switch that would reveal a plethora of weapons for use just like he hoped it would. Every hunter had a hidden arsenal if he was worth his salt, generally speaking, most of them kept them securely hidden in places such as this so that prying eyes wouldn’t accidentally find them. With Bobby, he had guns and knives stashed all around his house, however this guy clearly didn’t, else he wouldn’t have ended up dead downstairs, which meant that his cache was probably all in one place.
Unfortunately, the back of the closet wasn’t that place.
“Son of a-”
Before he had time to complete the curse, large hands grabbed him from behind and unceremoniously slammed him into the wall repeatedly until he could taste blood in his mouth and grey spots clouded his vision. It happened so fast, Dean barely had time to think, relying on instinct and reflex to slam his elbow back into ribs behind him, head butting backwards to knock his opponent off balance enough to twist out of the hold and swing a punch.
The punch never landed, caught instead by an impossibly iron grip that wrenched Dean’s arm almost out of it’s socket causing him to shout in pain. The next thing he knew he was flying across the room again, bouncing off the mattress of the bed before crashing into the wall and onto the floor like a broken toy. His vision was swimming now, his brain unable to keep up with the tilt-a-whirl ride it was on until gradually the images began to merge into one sweet glorifying site.
There, perfectly hidden underneath the bed, was the sharpest looking machete Dean had seen in a long time. It was like finding the Holy Grail at the most critical moment, a life line that just might save his ass, because if bullets wouldn’t kill this thing, cutting off it’s head might just do the trick instead.
Can Take Down Any Monster, But Runs Like A Bitch From Spiders
Group: Hunters
Posts: 143
Member No.: 7
Joined: 15-March 11
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - IS IT JUST ME, OR DO YOU WONDER IF WE'RE PUT HERE JUST TO SEE HOW MUCH HEARTACHE WE CAN TAKE WITHOUT HANGING FROM THE TALLEST TREE? - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
The sounds of combat filtered down through the ceiling to Sastre.
The hunter was rooted in place, his mind still reeling at the sight of his brother, here, alive. It was impossible, wasn't it? Darian was dead? Had been for years... Sastre had buried him himself, along with Julien. He'd never forget that day, as it had been one of the worst in his entire life. Yet, somehow, here Darian was. Apparently alive and well...
And currently beating the living daylights out of Dean.
"Shake it off, and do what needs to be done, damn you!" the Old Man's voice seemed to speak clearly within Sastre's mind. "I trained you better than this. No matter what the situation, you are prepared, whether you think so or not. So do what needs to be done and end this!"
That all-too-familiar, commanding voice snapped Sastre out of his daze and spurred him into action. With the fog gone from his mind, the logical part of his brain told him that there was something seriously wrong here. Darian was dead. He knew it. That meant that whatever this thing wearing his brother's face was, it wasn't him. And the knowledge that something was using Darian's appearance and defiling his memory ignited a smoldering rage within Sastre.
Whatever this thing was, it was as good as dead.
Tightening his grip on his Colt, Sastre bolted for the stairs, taking them two at a time. Once he reached the top, the sounds of the fight led him to a room at the end of the hall, and he moved in with his gun ready. It wouldn't do him any good to try and sneak, he knew, as most creatures had super-human senses to go along with their inhuman strength. So instead, he opted for speed rather than stealth.
The door was half-closed when Sastre reached it, and he kicked it open, the sound cutting through the chaos of the struggle. The not-Darian spun, turning his back to Dean momentarily as Sastre strode into the room, took aim, and fired three shots at the monster's chest. One of the things the Old Man had taught his pupils was how to properly load their weapons: Sastre's fifteen round clip consisted of five three round bursts of iron, silver, and dead man's blood hollow-points. Doing this ensured that at least one shot of the three round burst would hurt most of the monsters out there, and it had saved Sastre's life more than once in the past.
The iron round buried itself in the creature's chest and had little effect, but when the second, silver shot struck it, a howl of agony tore from its lips. Unfortunately, Sastre didn't have time to fire off another volley, as the pain apparently infuriated the monster enough that it charged him, its shoulder smashing against Sastre's mid-section and knocking all the breath out of him as they tumbled into the hallway. Bringing his gun back up to attempt another shot, Sastre found the weapon knocked away from his grasp.
And now the monster was on him, rearing back with a clenched fist, ready to crush the hunter's skull, Darian's features a hateful mask of rage and maniacal glee.
"S... Silver," he managed to croak, hoping Dean could hear him as the not-Darian's other hand clenched around his throat, causing his vision to blur.
Group: Hunters
Posts: 287
Member No.: 27
Joined: 5-April 11
Skipping the ‘it took you long enough’ comment that he was eager to throw at Sastre now that he’d finally decided to get off his ass and join the fray, Dean instead used the distraction of him bursting in the room to reach under the bed and grab the machete, instantly feeling more equipped to deal with the monster that was now focused on the new threat.
Surprise came when one of Sastre’s bullets actually got more than an indifferent look out of the creature, it’s impact causing a howl of pain that gave Dean hope that they weren’t in fact dealing with a Terminator. If regular bullets just pissed it off, whatever rounds were in Quicksilver’s gun must have been super-regular, because now the murderous monster was fixated on Sastre like he owed him a personal vendetta. At the back of his mind, Dean wondered if they were old enemies, this whole set up being a trap to lure him in, especially since the bodies downstairs weren’t the first to be connected to the infamous hunter. It would explain the shock on Sastre’s face when he saw who they were dealing with, but surely if they were enemies, then he’d have expected to find him here, wouldn’t he?
Theorising how all this came about took a speedy second place to leaping to his feet to go save Quicksilver’s ass, yelling a sharp, “Hey, assbutt!” to halt the enraged fist that was heading for Sastre’s skull, snaring it’s attention back his way just long enough for the thing to see Dean swing the machete at it’s neck.
There was a satisfying wet crunch as the razor sharp blade cut through cartilage and flesh, severing arteries that spilled blood everywhere as the startled monster blinked in surprise. Then, slowly, the precarious balance of head on shoulders began to fail and the separated skull tumbled down to roll across the floor, the disembodied body falling just moments later in the opposite direction, right on top of Sastre.
A brief reprieve of silence hung in the air, filled only by the sounds of two hunters catching their breath after battle and Dean lowered the machete, uncaring that the blood that slicked the blade was now dripping off onto the floor. At this point it was a little late to be worried about the state of the carpet considering the amount of destruction and gore that littered the entire house.
“I was out of silver.” Dean commented with a casual shrug, looking firstly to Sastre and then to the machete by way of explanation. Not that one was warranted, they were both relieved the thing was dead, it didn’t really matter how it had occurred.
As Sastre rolled the headless corpse off himself, Dean made a face in repulsion when more blood seeped out of the open neck, grateful that it hadn’t been him underneath it considering that most of Quicksilver’s clothes were now stained a very deep shade of crimson. He wasn’t in a hurry to go back to the laundrette.
“Glad you finally decided to join in.” He added, perhaps a little bitterly as he reached down to offer Sastre a hand in getting up before wandering over to pick the severed head up by it’s hair.
Can Take Down Any Monster, But Runs Like A Bitch From Spiders
Group: Hunters
Posts: 143
Member No.: 7
Joined: 15-March 11
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - IS IT JUST ME, OR DO YOU WONDER IF WE'RE PUT HERE JUST TO SEE HOW MUCH HEARTACHE WE CAN TAKE WITHOUT HANGING FROM THE TALLEST TREE? - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Sastre took Dean's offered hand and pulled himself to his feet, gasping breath and wincing as he felt his battered throat bruising.
He couldn't speak, though. Not while his eyes were focused on the decapitated head of his brother in Dean's hand. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment and swallowed the desire to vomit. That wasn't his brother; Darian was dead, and this was someone's idea of a sick joke, or worse, part of a larger plot to keep him off balance.
"Sorry, Dean," Sastre said, shaking his head a bit to clear it. "I choked... Almost lost it for a minute there." He frowned and turned away to look around the room, not even caring about the blood-drenched state of his clothing. "He was a shapeshifter, and in the form of my dead brother."
Sastre left it at that, not wanting to go into any more detail. He didn't know who or what was behind this, but nothing else mattered now, other than getting to the bottom of it. He wondered, too, how far back this went, his mind returning to the night he'd met Ronnie and helped her wipe out that nest of vampires. He'd seen his brother that night, too, outside the burning ruins of the warehouse, for just a split second. Had it been this shapeshifter? Could it have been another one, and if that was the case, how many more of them were out there, wearing Darian's face?
And, perhaps most important of all, why?
"We need to burn this house to the ground. It'd be too hard to try and cover all this up, or to lie to the authorities about what happened here..." He glanced at Dean, keeping his eyes away from the severed head. Even though he knew it wasn't Darian, that didn't make it any easier to look at. "Look, I appreciate your help, but I understand if you want to just get out of here. I can finish things up on my own."
Group: Hunters
Posts: 287
Member No.: 27
Joined: 5-April 11
"Sorry, Dean, I choked... Almost lost it for a minute there."
“No kidding?” Dean replied, his tone laced with deadpanned sarcasm. The idea that this guy was the real Sastre Quicksilver was becoming less and less likely the more he hung around with him because choking in the middle of a fight was something only a rookie would do unless…
"He was a shapeshifter, and in the form of my dead brother."
Ah. Yeah, that'd do it...
A moment of uncomfortable silence passed between the two of them, punctuated by the fact Dean still had a tight hold of the severed head that resembled Quicksilver’s dead brother. He swept his gaze over the spot on the floor where the blood was dripping and then looked back up to Sastre with a mildly sheepish expression.
“Awkward…”
Knowing just how disquieting it would be to see a loved one slaughtered right before your eyes, all be it a faux-family member, Dean gathered his discretion and disposed of the head quickly, wiping his hand Sastre’s arm where there was a spot clean enough for him to do so, his momentary sensitivity towards the matter apparently having a very brief life span.
"We need to burn this house to the ground. It'd be too hard to try and cover all this up, or to lie to the authorities about what happened here..."
“Not to mention the fact someone probably called the cops already after the gunshots.” With a nod of agreement, Dean began to make mental plans to use the stove in the kitchen to start the fire, fuelling it with cooking oil, liquor and any other flammable items he could get his hands on in the cupboards that would help things catch light faster.
"Look, I appreciate your help, but I understand if you want to just get out of here. I can finish things up on my own."
Dean levelled him with a sincere look, all too aware that the sooner they got this done, the less likely either of them would get caught by the cops. Sure he could leave now and let Quicksilver wrap things up, but if he got busted by the police, then Dean had no reassurances that he wouldn’t blame everything on Dean, putting him right back on the radar of anyone in the state with a badge and a gun. Thinking with his head, it was smarter to stay and help. Although Dean’s heart had already over ruled anything his head was saying the moment Sastre mentioned his dead brother. Some things Dean just couldn’t ignore.
“I’ve got a brother too, I know it’s not that easy. I’ll stay.” Lifting up the machete he added, “But I might just help myself to a few things before we torch the place. No sense in letting this stuff burn, it’ll only confuse the cops when they comb through the remains.”
Can Take Down Any Monster, But Runs Like A Bitch From Spiders
Group: Hunters
Posts: 143
Member No.: 7
Joined: 15-March 11
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - IS IT JUST ME, OR DO YOU WONDER IF WE'RE PUT HERE JUST TO SEE HOW MUCH HEARTACHE WE CAN TAKE WITHOUT HANGING FROM THE TALLEST TREE? - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Sastre nodded in appreciation and agreement to Dean.
"Alright. Let's take whatever we can find, then burn the place. We better work fast though," Sastre said, looking around and frowning a bit. "If the neighbors heard those gunshots, then we'll probably be having company soon."
Without another word, Sastre began searching the place room by room, looking for anything that might be of use. He didn't find much, really, as he preferred to travel light for the most part. Still, a handful of silver bullets found their way into his pocket, and even though they weren't the proper caliber for his Colt, they could be melted down and remade easily enough. He also picked up a sawed-off shotgun and tucked it under his arm; he had a bad habit of losing his own shotgun on hunts, and it never hurt to have another.
Once he was satisfied that he'd taken enough, Sastre made his way downstairs and out to the shed in the backyard, thanking the tall privacy fence that blocked him from the view of the surrounding houses, for the most part. In the shed he found a gas can, and he went back inside, dousing as much as he could before running out.
Group: Hunters
Posts: 287
Member No.: 27
Joined: 5-April 11
Splitting up was wise, it meant they could clear the house efficiently without fuss and also gave Dean ample opportunity to stash the bottle of old number 7 that he found in the kitchen into his pocket without having to worry about Sastre thinking him an alcoholic. An interesting book on lore that had caught his eye on his earlier sweep of the place was also on the sticky fingers list along with some cash he found in a jacket pocket hung up on the back of a door. His job didn’t pay well, he had no shame in liberating money where he found it, it wasn’t like it’s owners were going to be using it anyway.
A liberal dousing of cooking oil and cheap wine later, Dean turned on all the rings on the stove to let the gas build up and then went to regroup with Quicksilver at the door.
"Dean, you about ready to go?"
“Light her up.” Dean nodded, offering a book of matches he’d picked up from the kitchen. “When this goes though, it’s gonna go big, so don’t hang around.” He said, referring to the leaking gas that would spark an explosion.
“Also, don’t take it personal, but I also think it’s best we don’t leave in the same direction. Glad I could help with this, but you’re more trouble than a sack of rattlers and I've got enough of my own crap to deal with right now.” With that he gave Sastre an amicable smile, patted his arm and left to make his escape before the cops showed up.
“See you around sometime.” He called back over his shoulder, knowing that in hunting circles, it wasn’t really that hard to stay in touch. No doubt they’d bump into each other again on some other crazy hunt.
Can Take Down Any Monster, But Runs Like A Bitch From Spiders
Group: Hunters
Posts: 143
Member No.: 7
Joined: 15-March 11
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - IS IT JUST ME, OR DO YOU WONDER IF WE'RE PUT HERE JUST TO SEE HOW MUCH HEARTACHE WE CAN TAKE WITHOUT HANGING FROM THE TALLEST TREE? - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Sastre nodded farewell and thanks to Dean.
"I owe you one Dean, thanks for everything." He returned the other hunter's shoulder clap, then watched as he got in his car and tore off in the direction away from town.
Looking down at himself and grimacing at the amount of sticky, congealing blood that covered him, Sastre sighed and headed for his Ducati. Pulling his helmet on, he started the engine and rode off in the opposite direction of Dean, going as fast as he dared without getting stopped by the police. He didn't really want to try and explain to a cop why he was covered nearly head to toe in blood, after all.
As he rode into and through town, he pushed back the revulsion he was still feeling at seeing his brother beheaded. Well, not his brother maybe, but the effect was definitely the same, at any rate. Sastre buried this feeling deep though, knowing in the long run that it wouldn't do him any good to think about it. There was more going on here then met the eye, and he knew where his answers lay.
So, his thoughts focused only on the job at hand, Sastre rode west into the setting sun.
Death By Normality, {Tag Arius?}
