ya_assemble | [LN] Dean can have firearms, but not nice things.

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[LN] Dean can have firearms, but not nice things.

The motel that Dean went to sleep in was the same one he woke up in, until he walked outside.

For one thing, he'd gone to sleep at night, and knew he'd been asleep at least a full 8 hours. In defiance of this, the stars were still twinkling. This was doubly odd, because the motel he'd gone to sleep in had been on the outskirts of Chicago, under too much light pollution for any stars at all, but this motel was so far out of any town that the road leading up to it was unpaved.

"What the hell?"

Someone was playing a piss-poor game on him, and nobody ever played games on Dean Winchester for harmless fun. He reached into his coat for a weapon, and found a fully loaded sig sauer right where he'd . . . not actually put it the night before.

And yet there it was in his shoulder holster. Huh. Had he seriously slept with a loaded gun? It wouldn't be the first time, but seriously, how had he forgotten that the night before?

There was no real time to look this gift horse in the mouth, so Dean kept the muzzle of the firearm to the ground as he looked around for a trace of movement, any clue as to what he was not currently doing adjacent to a major city.

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Goddammit. Raph whipped out a smoke bomb quick as can be and disappeared in a puff of purple smoke.

Only...he didn't sneak to where he meant to go. He found himself suddenly just there. As if all it had taken was a thought. He tried to do it again to another tree branch by just imagining himself, but nothing happened.

Interesting. Maybe it only worked with the smoke bombs. In any case, teleportation? That was going to be pretty dang useful for a ninja.

The fact this guy recognized him? Also intersting. Nico'd said there were cartoons in her world, too. (Kids' cartoons of all things. That was sick.)

"What did I say about lowering the gun, numbnuts?" he said, hidden by the shadows once more.

Edited 2014-11-10 08:43 (UTC)

"What are you really? A shapeshifter? Are you reading my mind?"

Why was it reading his mind that far back? He hadn't thought about ninja turtles (except in that way that grown men occasionally acknowledged that something had been awesome when they were 8) since he was a child.

"What's the point, huh? Put on a childhood hero's face, think that'll stop me from shooting? Think I wouldn't shoot a friggin' Ninja Turtle?"

He rotated towards the voice in the shadows. "I haven't heard anything about where Sam is, and my trigger finger's still itchy."

Childhood hero? What? What kind of messed up little weirdo kid had this guy been?

"You know, I'm reaaally regretting not just waiting until your brother could handle this one."

There was no way this paranoid asshole would buy 'He's probably back at the North Pole by now.'

"This world is a mess because of this evil Lovecraftian death god thing making belief stronger than it should be. Out there, wherever you're from, you're real."

The voice moved, coming from another direction, to throw Dean off.

"In this world, random people thought up all our stories as fiction. Just by chance - since everything has to be real somewhere. But because reality's so thin and the belief of people in this world - especially kids - is so strong, it's pulling the characters these people have in their TV and books and movies into this world from the worlds where we're real people."

The voice moved again.

"All of us have been trying to put it right so we can end this and go home and your brother's been one of the people helping. Right now, he's either out on a mission fighting the nasties behind all this or (hopefully) back at our base so I can drag your sorry butt there and not have to deal with you anymore."

Edited 2014-11-10 09:07 (UTC)

Ironically Dean's next question was "What kind of messed up kid is watching my life on TV?"

Seriously, his life was gory and disgusting and horrifying and sick and nothing anyone should ever expose their children to. Ever.

Unless they absolutely had to.

Which was always debatable.

"Let me get this straight. KIDS summoned me here. Probably a bunch of seriously undersupervised kids. And you want me to come back with you to my brother, because for some reason, nobody could wait to send HIM here to pick me up with a story that is literally unbelievable?"

The voice jumping around was starting to freak him out, but also REALLY emphasizing that shit was just not right here.

"Ain't buyin' it, Franklin."

Thank goodness Sam wasn't around to ask how he knew that was a joke he could make.

"Franklin?" Never mind. Raph rolled his eyes. "Your brother couldn't come because I wasn't about to yank him away from a mission to save kids from monsters basically trying to eat their souls just because you need a babysitter or else you think it's okay to fill people full of bullet holes."

He was getting annoyed now.

"And I could ask you the same thing if you were watching me as a kid. What kind of weirdo crazy little kid were you if I was your hero? Leo, maybe, but me? Seriously?"

The incredulity was strong with this one.

"Where do I even friggin' begin?"

Okay, so Sam was out hunting. Saving kids. That did sound about right. But Sam would have never let anyone, even Raphael the friggin' Ninja Turtle, come collect Dean without him if he'd known Dean was around. There were still holes in the story.

But by now Dean really wanted to get things off the subject of him as a child. Especially since now, he was thinking of the kind of lives children would have to have to know about him, and want him around for their safety. Those poor kids. No wonder Sam was out saving them.

"Look, if what you're saying is legit, you can tell Sam where to find me. No offense, but I'm not trusting something that could be a shapeshifter or a tulpa without Sam's input."

"Problem with that is if I leave you here too long, said monsters are going to be coming for you and then I gotta answer to your bro and explain why I didn't just knock his idiot brother unconscious so I could drag him back to base and left him to get torn apart in the middle of nowhere."

The fearlings didn't just go after kids. They just converted kids. But they had teeth and claws and those hurt adults - and other myths - easily enough.

"I also don't like the idea of making a moose angry. They're dangerous animals."

He hadn't met Sam formally, but he'd seen him around. The guy was huge and just very...elk-like.

"They're after us, too. Because of the kids we have power here and they know it. They'll want to take you out of the picture before you even have a chance to work with the rest of us. Your brother's probably not even back yet and even if he is, they might be here the second I leave. I'm not taking that chance."

Dean bristled at the threat of being knocked unconscious. Nothing in him wanted to trust anyone not Sam, even a person who knew Sam well enough to liken him to a moose.

"So what, I follow you back to where, your sewer lair?" He snorted. He'd already seen enough sewers to last him a lifetime. "No thank you. I can take care of myself."

"You wanna do this the hard way? Fine. We'll do it the hard way. If you know me from whatever sick cartoon you were watching unsupervised as a kid, then you know much I like the hard way."

His voice came from somewhere else.

"You've got five seconds to drop the gun or I'm using your skull as a set of bongos and dragging you back unconscious. Five..."

Now from another place in the eaves above.

"Four..."

Now from everywhere at once, somehow.

"Three..."

Edited 2014-11-10 10:15 (UTC)

Dean Winchester acted on instinct as often as not, instincts honed by a life that had been a battle since he was a child.

Right now, his instincts were telling him to reach back into his jacket, and pull out the sawed-off shotgun that was digging into his ribs.

The sawed-off shotgun that hadn't been there when he walked out of the falling-down motel, that sure hadn't been there when he went to sleep in Chicago, because it had been in the trunk of the Impala.

But now, with a . . . with a something in the form of a Ninja Turtle that seemed to be able to teleport (or throw his voice) counting down to an attack, he felt the second firearm burning a hole in his jacket and reached.

The night exploded with gunshots as he fired the Sig and the sawed-off Remington into opposite directions into the darkness, spinning and varying his height as he charged for the trees, looking for his own cover.

The so-called Ninja Turtle might drag him somewhere, but he wouldn't be going voluntarily.

Or, he realized - as he felt knives, grenades, and - yup, another Sig jostling in his jacket as he ran - without a fight.

It was okay that he cut him off at three, really it was, because Raph was planning on attacking right before two anyway. Which he did, careful to dodge out of the way the man was shooting in the near-dark.

He couldn't let him gain an advantage by getting into a darker place in the woods, though, or else they wouldn't be able to see each other. If he couldn't see the guy, he might luck out and a wild shot might actually hit him.

Kicking a branch into some bushes to make a rustle in a direction he wasn't attacking from, be he leaped out through some bushes (that camouflage training in the woods outside the farmhouse? so worth the investment) and attacked, using his sais to try to twist the shotgun out of Dean's hands.

"Just had to choose the hard way, didn't you."

Edited 2014-11-10 10:41 (UTC)

"There is no other way."

The shotgun went flying, and Dean had no idea how to fight someone with sai, except to get away from them. But Raph had twisted his other hand up and Dean needed to get some distance between himself and the turtle.

He grabbed the grenade, ripped the pin out with his teeth, and held it up for the turtle to see, grinning in the darkness with the pin still in his teeth.

"Oh, you sonova -"

Time to dive back into the dark for cover.

Away from the ASSHOLE. Because this guy was an ASSHOLE.

Dean chucked the grenade in Raph's direction, ducking around a tree as it exploded.

"Language, young . . . person," he admonished, as he reached into his jacket and pulled out . . . wow yes that was actually a full M16.

Where was it all hiding? Well whatever was going on with his jacket, Dean liked it. He sprayed bullets in an arc into the darkness.

Definitely an asshole.

The grenade blast knocked Raph off his feet. He felt a sudden piercing pain in his left upper arm, something that made him let out a noise that was half-indignant screech, half-growl as he felt the shrapnel stuck in the flesh there.

That no good rotten - he was going to stick his sais right up his -

Raph heard the sound of another gun being cocked.

He didn't have time to yell over his injury because all of a sudden the man was spraying bullets all over the place. He dove and took refuge behind a particularly large, thick tree as wood splintered around him from the gunfire.

"Where are you even getting all these guns from?!" he screamed out into the darkness. "Are you even a person or are you the living embodiment of an NRA convention?"

He hated guns. Laser guns, gun guns, it didn't matter. Guns sucked when you were trained in weaponry that hadn't been the height of technology since feudal Japan.

"Sure you don't wanna come out and say hello to my little friend?" Dean shouted back, as he emptied his magazine and ducked behind a tree to reach into his jacket for a new magazine. Sure enough, one was right under his fingers as soon as he reached in.

This was right in line with his vague memories of the 80's cartoon, with Raphael as the perpetual deliverer of snark, but the 80's cartoon was kiddie camp and this guy was legit, even if he was a thoughtform or a tulpa, he had ninja skills that could end Dean's life if he didn't continue going all out in his defensive assault.

Try and take him anywhere, will you. Try to earn his trust with just WORD of his brother.

Not a chance. Dean locked the magazine in and whirled around, listening in the darkness for the sound of . . . of ninjaing in the darkness.

Raph could see him moving slightly away from the tree in the half-light. Since Raph was entirely in the shadows, the man couldn't see him.

If this guy wasn't going to play fair, he didn't have to either.

Besides, he was a ninja. Like sensei had always said, it wasn't about fair, it was about victory. It was about walking home at the end of the day.

Dean wasn't going to hear him ninja-ing because he didn't have to move through the dark on foot. Raph took out a smoke bomb and threw it down in the dark, picturing himself behind the man. Dean suddenly found himself enveloped in purple smoke and then the handle of a sai cracked into his head, hard, from behind.

"Hello," he said sarcastically, the last thing Dean would hear as he lost consciousness.

Edited 2014-11-10 11:26 (UTC)

"Motherf-"

Dean had just a brief moment to finish the curse in his head before he blacked out.

Raph worked quickly, patting Dean down for more guns. For lots of guns. There were way too many guns. And clips. And guns.

(And who carried around a grenade? What the heck?!)

"You, sir, are one sick cookie," he muttered to the unconscious Dean as he reached into a little pouch at his belt and took out some zip ties, using them to tie Dean's feet together and to fasten his hands behind his back.

Then he pulled out the snow globe from the pouch, muttered, "The Pole" into it, looked at the image of Santa's Workshop shimmering into view, and threw it.

As the portal opened up, he looked over at Dean, prone on the forest floor, and looked thoughtful for a moment. Then he looked at the shrapnel in his arm and looked more thoughtful. Then he looked back at Dean, walked over, and kicked him sharply in the side. Once. Not hard enough to break anything but hard enough he'd be feeling it when he woke up.

Satisfied, he hefted the man up with his uninjured arm and tossed him over his shoulder - not an easy task despite his strength since the man was ridiculously tall in comparison to Raph.

"You are so lucky I'm not leaving you here to get eaten, you jerk," he said to the unconscious man, walking through the portal.

Dean just groaned in response, still unconscious, but returning to awareness much faster than usual, due to his new myth powers kicking in.

It didn't stop his side from hurting, or his head, though the worst of that was yet to hit him.

As soon as he was through, Raph dumped Dean unceremoniously to the floor on his stomach. He waved down the nearest yeti. "If the library nerd is back, can you tell him the Man in the Moon said his brother was here and that I went out and got him for him while he was out? And also that his brother is a paranoid jerk, but he probably already knows that."

The yeti pointed to Raph's arm, making a concerned "blarghiwogita" noise.

"Oh yeah, also I maybe need a first aid kit or something." He was kinda bleeding on the floor here.

Edited 2014-11-10 12:04 (UTC)

What the - what the friggin' hell? Was that a yeti? Maybe? Dean wasn't sure.

It was the first thing he saw, though, when he came into consciousness, the second being his surroundings as his vision sharpened back into focus.

If he didn't know any better, he would have sworn he was in Santa's Workshop. No, between the Christmassy decor, the elves scampering around (actual friggin' elves), and the smell of gingerbread and fruitcake, Dean was absolutely sure he was in some iteration of Santa's Workshop.

"You psychopathic piece of shit, what the hell did you bring me here for?"

Dean thrashed against his zip-ties, eyes wide with terror as he looked around for the Big Man himself. Any minute now Mr. and Mrs. Claus would emerge from the tinselly shadows to start carving him for Christmas dinner. Where was a cedar stake when you needed one?

"Hey Raph, who's the swear-y guy?"

Mikey had already started trotting over when the portal opened, and now he stepped lightly over the squirming Dean to get to Raph's side.

"Dude, did you go get a new guy by yourself?" Mikey gave his bother as disapproving a frown as he could manage. "Yo man, you know we're on the buddy system here. Where was your buddy this whole time? Your buddy was here. Because I'm your buddy. We went over this."

Mikey's expression rapidly turned to concern though as he noticed the enlarging pool of blood dripping from Raph's arm. "Oh man, Raph, you're bleeding! Like, a lot!"

"He's the brother of that moosey tall guy that's always in the library. And I got him, didn't I? I was fine, it was a one person job."

Really, he'd just...wanted Mikey to have a little break after the government lab thing, that was all. He'd been running around playing with the elves and all that and Raph just thought it was a good to let him maybe play for a little while longer. After all that. He and Mikey'd be going out to fight fearlings and baddies soon enough. No need to rush it.

Especially since he maybe didn't want him to come into conctact with the Trunchbull and Bloody Mary and that creepy guy again. At least not so soon. There was a chance they'd have shown up for crazy gun guy, too.

"I brought one of those snowglobes, it was fine." Other than, you know, the shrapnel in his arm. Which he gestured at "And this is nothing. It looks way worse than it is."

Edited 2014-11-10 12:29 (UTC)

It hadn't been much of a mission, honestly. Mostly research and trying to track down a particular myth that, for the moment, seemed to be in the wind. It was frustrating, but Sam hadn't run into anything that he couldn't handle. Which, for the moment, he's counting as a win.

As the snowglobe deposits him back at the Pole, Sam can practically feel that something's changed. He's just set the globe back in place when one of the Yetis approaches, getting his attention and pointing to another section of the workshop. "Something needs my attention?" he asks, starting to walk that direction.

It's not until he hears his brother's voice, though, that Sam realizes just WHAT needs his attention. "Dean!" Sam breaks away from the Yeti, long legs eating up the distance. He glances up to the turtles (okay, yes, there are ninja turtles here and he's gotten used to this stuff), then drops down to Dean's side.

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