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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"How about you hold off on shooting and gimme a minute to explain, since you don't know what I'm standing in front of right now or how high a chance you have of ricochets? Then I'll come out."

Give and take, Dean. Give and take.

Edited 2014-11-10 07:38 (UTC)

"You're in front of trees."

IT'S A FOREST NOT A ROCKWALL.

"Unless you've got a hostage back there, my trigger finger's getting itchy."

Raph wasn't ready to show himself yet, not until he'd explained just a little bit, but he needed the guy to hang tight.

So he aimed below the belt, using the tactic that would've worked on himself.

"I've got some information hostage, if that counts. If you want to know where your brother Sam is, you better leave me alive long enough to tell you."

Sam was eating pizza in Chicago.

Sam was SUPPOSED to be eating pizza in Chicago, but that was back when Dean was a stone's throw from Chicago and not bartering with a ninja.

"If you've hurt him, I swear, I won't stop with killing you. I'll find out what you least want dead, and do my job."

He was a hunter, and he was good at it. Everything that lurked in the shadows had to know this by now.

"So you might as well step out here and try to kill me in the open, at this point."

Everything tried to kill him. Why should a ninja be any different?

Great. The guy was a paranoid nutjob. Which Raph partly understood, being a paranoid cynic himself, but this went to a level a little beyond him. Clearly, he'd gotten the wrong idea assuming the library nerd's brother had to be at least similar levels of sane.

He bristled at the threat to his own brother, but kept his irritation over it under control (for once) understanding how easily this situation could escalate.

"I'm not going to hurt you and your brother's fine, and if you let me explain what's going on, then I can bring you to him, but I'm not coming out unless you at least lower the gun. Go ahead and keep it in your hand, but I'm not an idiot."

Edited 2014-11-10 08:14 (UTC)

Dean lowered the firearm, confident that he could still draw faster than a self-professed ninja could dodge.

"Explanations. I'm waiting."

False confidence, bro. This ninja dodged lasers on the regular and now he was faster and more agile than ever.

"You've been pulled into a different dimension because of a primordial being of evil making reality a little extra thin here. Just like I have, just like your brother and a bunch of other people have."

Raph slowly walked out of the shadows, the tattered tails of his bandana flapping slightly in the breeze, flipping his sais in his hands so they weren't pointed in Dean's direction.

In the half-dark, lit only by the dull light of the moon, it looked like something that you'd seen in the panels of a comic book.

In a specific comic book. That specific cartoons were based on.

Because he was face to face with a motherfuckin' ninja turtle.

For a second Dean's inner child, once thought long dead, stood up and overwhelmed his senses with a screech of delight.

"You're a ninja turtle!"

The bandanna looked red at this distance, which meant he was probably Raphael, aka DEAN'S FAVORITE TURTLE, and of course this snapped Dean back to reality, where nothing nice ever happened to him and anything that looked paranormal and nice was going to shortly have its veneer horribly ripped off.

"No frickin' way you're a ninja turtle, what the hell!"

He raised the firearm again. They didn't have to go bringing his childhood into this.

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)

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