|
Post by Dean Winchester on Jun 28, 2008 14:18:26 GMT -5
Dean looked around the small table, his expression unusually stoic. The others, all three of them, were examining him with scrutiny. Dean held their gazes then pushed several large dollar bills toward the middle of the table, paused only a moment as his eyes flicked back to his cards, then continued to push them to the middle. The hesitation had only been minor, but he noted that at least two of the three had picked up on it. Keeping his voice level, Dean spoke.
“I’ll raise you $300.”
The din of the nightclub’s music and of the voices shouting to be heard over it had been muffled down to an acceptable level thanks to their choice location in the back near what could be labeled the ‘dining area’. The poker games had been going on long before Dean’s arrival and with only a little work Dean had bought his way into one of the more competitive games. He’d been surprised to find such gambling going on a nightclub like this. Stereotypically, that sort of thing was reserved for bars and taverns, but Dean wasn’t going to complain. He was avoiding bars that night because that’s just where his brother had declared he was off to. Sam had suggested Dean go with him, but Dean had just brushed him off, not wanting to deal with the topic that would inevitably surface if he’d gone. Of course, once Sam left, Dean had just enough guilt for his terse reaction to Sam these last several days added to the guilt over the death of his father and confusion over his last words to need to get out of the wreckage yard himself. With the need to forget his troubles for just a while, Dean left his totaled car and Bobby’s lodgings to find solace elsewhere. He’d only come here for a few drinks, but earning a little cash never hurt anyone.
The first round had gone badly for Dean, but that was all part of the plan really. The newbie couldn’t win the first round. Far too suspicious. During the second round Dean had made a show of almost winning then becoming thoroughly disappointed when he’d lost a good deal of money. Now was the third round.
His three opponents studied their cards and Dean waited silently for their responses.
|
|
Chase
New Member
Free Agent
Posts: 303
|
Post by Chase on Jun 29, 2008 0:02:39 GMT -5
Chase hung to the shadows against the vibrating walls of the club. He was dressed in faded jeans and a sleeveless black hoodie - not exactly nightclubbing attire, but then again, his plan for the evening hadn't really been to go out dancing.
A smirk touched his lips as he watched the older Winchester play against those small town card "sharks." They spent their days working shops or plowing fields, but at night, at this club, they could fool themselves into thinking they were really suave, smart, big city players. Chase's grin widened as he saw his target's eyes dart to his cards as he raised. It was a pretty amateur mistake, and he'd been playing so well until then. Confidence was the key to victory in any game, and glancing at your cards was almost like saying you weren't sure you really had good enough cards to match your money.
Chase had been planning on following the younger Winchester tonight. After all, he was the one Azazel, and therefore Amazarak, had really taken an interest in. But he had already vanished for the evening by the time Chase had decided to check in on them, so he decided that Dean would do for now. "Special" or not, he was known to be a pretty big thorn in the sides of the higher ups, and Chase couldn't wait to see why.
At first his plan had been just to watch from a distance, but as time passed Chase had started itching to interact, to see how he would fare against the famed hunter. He couldn't fight him, couldn't risk revealing Amazarak or the clan, but the bosses shouldn't have a problem with his playing a little card game. And even if they did, Chase wasn't really sure he cared at the moment.
Curiosity trumped the rules. Always had, and always would.
Slowly, he detached himself from the shadowed wall and approached the table, digging out his wallet as he moved. After so much time in the shadows it would be gratifying to bring down these small town players, to show them how little they really knew. That on top of getting to size up Dean Winchester and make a few extra bucks in the process, and Chase's evening was definitely looking bright. Holding up his wallet, he smiled amicably.
"Hey, you guys mind if I join for a few hands?"
|
|
|
Post by Dean Winchester on Jun 30, 2008 17:02:21 GMT -5
Dean looked up at the young man standing there, wallet in his hand. He’d noted the guy skulking in the shadows, but honestly hadn’t paid much attention. The guy looked like he belonged in this nightclub just as much as Dean felt he belonged there. Little poker game aside, there wasn’t a heck of a lot here that made him feel at home. The music was too loud and too techno, the drinks were too fruity, and the girls were all... well the girls were ok.
One of Dean’s opponents snorted at the younger man’s question. “We’re playing for keeps here, kid. This is the big leagues. We probably shouldn’t even have let this guy in.” The big, round snob jabbed a finger in Dean’s direction.
The Winchester couldn’t help but smirk. This guy really thought he had the upper hand. Dean had been going for some easy money but... He sized the new guy up. Appearances could be deceiving, but Dean got the impression that the guy could handle himself. A challenge might be nice. Truth be told, he hadn’t even gotten to cheating yet.
“Hey, why not let him play,” Dean replied.
The man who’d shot the newbie down chuckled. “Giving up already? Going to give him your chair?”
The Winchester shook his head. “I was thinking we’d give him your chair.”
This brought gasps from the two players who had folded and surprised looks from some of those who watched from the sidelines. The obnoxious third player gave an incredulous laugh from the obnoxious man. “Are you serious? You’re the one who’s been lagging these past few hands.”
Dean sat forward, smile on his lips. “Well then you’ve got nothing to worry about there, tubby. The other two folded, so it’s just you and me. How about this. You win, the new guy gets my seat. If I win, he gets yours. Deal?”
The ‘card shark’ pondered a moment, hardly even registering Dean’s new show of confidence as he looked over his cards, then nodded. “Fine.”
Then he lay out his cards triumphantly on the table. Three aces and two threes. “Full house,” the older man replied with a toothy grin.
Dean pursed his lips, nodding as if impressed. “Not too shabby.”
As the other man reached for the money, Dean lay down his hand. Four Jacks and a queen. “Four of a kind. What do you know? I win.”
Dean’s former opponent gawked at the cards, blinking slowly, as Dean pulled the pile of cash towards his side with a grin. “You’re up, new guy,” he replied to the guy in the hoodie.
|
|
Chase
New Member
Free Agent
Posts: 303
|
Post by Chase on Jul 3, 2008 12:43:55 GMT -5
Chase had been ready to defend himself, and the blundering man's dismissal had gotten Chase's hand itching for its knife real fast. He was twenty-one years old, after all, and smarter, faster, and tougher than any of these self-important idiots could ever hope to be. Why did small town, overweight, middle-aged morons always insist on treating him like a child?
But sticking this guy in the ribs and having to run from the bouncers would hardly allow him to interact with Dean Winchester, and then the whole night's waiting and watching would have been pointless.
With a force of effort, Chase swallowed down his anger and shifted his wallet to show his cash - he had more than enough to buy his way in with these greedy fools - but paused when Winchester, always the big hero, just like they had said, jumped in to his defense. Curious and amused, Chase crossed his arms and allowed them to play out the hand.
Winchester won and, with a casual smirk, dismissed his challenger from the table. The man started to protest, but, as fast as they'd jumped to his defense earlier, they were quicker to turn on him now.
"You lost fair and square," one of them cackled through crooked, yellow teeth. "Hand over your seat, and maybe the kid can give us a challenge."
"Not likely." The man glowered at Winchester, and then turned his petulant eyes on Chase as he lifted himself out of his chair. He opened his mouth to let out an insult, but stopped suddenly as he caught sight of something he didn't like in the younger man's eyes. Chase wasn't sure what exactly the other had seen - he'd been calmly contemplating how much effort it would take to rip out the man's windpipe with his bare hands - but it made him avert his gaze and waddle off in a fast-paced huff.
Dragging his mind from happy thoughts of murder and mayhem, Chase slid into the vacated seat and smiled pleasantly across the table at Winchester.
"Thanks, man. Now," sliding a wad of $20s and $100s out of his wallet and laying it on the table before him, "who's dealing?"
|
|
|
Post by Dean Winchester on Jul 6, 2008 13:37:22 GMT -5
There was something about this guy, something that went beyond the skulking in the shadows and that truly dark look that had just passed across his face that set off warning bells in Dean’s mind. Usually he would take heed of the warning, watch the new guy with a hidden suspicion, and prepare himself for... something. Tonight, however, Dean just pushed the feeling away. He didn’t care about danger tonight. He didn’t want to care about anything but the game. He’d managed to lose himself in it for a whole half an hour and the only thing he felt when that instinctual warning prodded him was annoyance at being distracted by the ‘real world’. The ‘real world’ and all its dangers and problems was just what he’d come here to escape.
He’d hardly even heard the new guy’s question as he allowed himself to become lost once more. The woman with the crooked yellow teeth pulled all the cards towards her and began to shuffle. Once the deck was shuffled and cut, she dealt. Dean’s eyes searched his opponents immediately and as subtly as possible, watching for their reactions to their cards even as he looked over his own.
The lady didn’t have anything. He knew by the way she scratched her temple idly. The other original player, a man with one of the worst comb-overs ever, thought he had something decent, but nothing he was willing to bet high stakes on. Not yet anyway. He knew by the way he arranged his hand with false nonchalance. And then there was the new guy. Dean took a moment to look at his own hand, then glanced up at the guy in the hoodie, searching for his call signs.
|
|
Chase
New Member
Free Agent
Posts: 303
|
Post by Chase on Jul 26, 2008 23:45:15 GMT -5
Cards... Chase had never been a huge fan of card games. Poker was all about subtlety, cleverness, and manipulation. While he excelled in all of those areas, and especially enjoyed the last one, there was one more element essential to mastering card games, and it pretty much killed the whole experience for Chase.
Playing cards required patience.
The games were long, drawn out, generally troublesome experiences, and usually didn't even offer that decent of a payoff for his troubles. After all, the bosses paid him well enough to make betting even the most ridiculous sums practically no risk at all. If you could just readily replace whatever you bet away, then there was hardly any excitement in the fight for it.
No, the only real fun in a game was when some hot-head got angry enough to start a fist fight over a lost sum. These wannabes were definitely hot-headed enough, but Chase got the distinct impression from their graying hair and sizes of their guts that any fist-fight they got into wouldn’t be worth watching, anyway.
Unless, of course, he started one up with Dean…
But that was definitely beyond the bounds of tonight’s little outing. If he wanted to stay on the payroll of the big 7 (not to mention keep his insides on… well… his insides) he’d have to deal with the game without the extra fun of breaking his fist on someone else’s face... for now, anyway.
Dragging himself from his mental reverie, Chase realized that his eyes had been focused on his cards for nearly 10 seconds now, without even having seen them. Anyone watching him would probably think that he had a bad hand and was trying to keep his cool about it. …That, or he had no idea what he was doing. He actually spent a moment examining his cards and realized that the first group of observers would actually be pretty close to the target. If he’d had a little energy boost from the Cult he could have used it to turn that stupid 6 around 180 degrees, and then his hand would’ve been pretty promising.
Not that the Cult would ever condone the use of their energy on such a petty matter, but Chase just might have gone for it anyway. He hated to lose.
He felt the eyes of the group resting on him, each one of them taking a moment to size up the new guy.
Yeah… he really hated to lose. But he wasn’t going to show it.
He looked up from his cards, ignoring the other players to meet Dean’s assessing gaze with a good natured grin.
“So... got any nines?”
|
|
|
Post by Dean Winchester on Aug 8, 2008 19:33:43 GMT -5
Dean had been observing the newbie’s reaction (or lack there of) to his cards somewhat intently, trying to decide how he felt about him. The question then, caught him off guard.
“So... got any nines?”
Dean stared at the new guy a moment, a long moment, in surprise before deciding that he wasn’t being serious. So he grinned right back.
“If I told you that, it’d be cheating,” the Winchester replied.
“Enough chatting. Let’s play!” snapped the woman.
Dean chuckled. “Geez, lady! Let’s not be so serious! It’s just a poker game. It’s not as if lives are on the line, right?”
The woman pouted and put in two cards to be exchanged. The older man put in one. Dean pondered his cards another moment, then put down two of his own. He glanced around the nightclub, scanning it casually, an action that had become natural to him. Despite the deafening music Dean heard a commotion off the right somewhere. It didn’t seem too interesting so he focused his attention back on the new guy. He at least had a sense of humor. Whether he was creepy or not, at least he had that.
|
|
Chase
New Member
Free Agent
Posts: 303
|
Post by Chase on Aug 15, 2008 15:15:05 GMT -5
"It's not as if lives are on the line, right?"
Chase could barely bite back a laugh at that, but managed to contain it. Barely. Man, that comment was just begging for a knife in the gut. Dean, looking elsewhere, didn't seem to notice Chase's sudden grin, but the older man sitting next to him was staring up from his cards with a wide-eyed, nervous expression.
Chase arched a brow - did he really look that hungry for blood? And he'd just had a good kill a few weeks ago too... he was getting spoiled.
He shot the man a quick, wolfish grin that made him look quickly away, and then focused on toning down his expressions. It wouldn't do to scare away all the competition before the game really got started.
Considering his cards momentarily, he tugged out two and slapped them down on the table. He just needed a nine or two hearts and he was golden.
|
|
|
Post by Dean Winchester on Aug 27, 2008 17:06:26 GMT -5
(ooc: has it really been that long?! Sorry for the long wait, man!) BIC:
The new cards were dealt and Dean slid them slowly towards himself with one hand, bending them up just enough for him to see. He pursed his lips in a purposefully thoughtful expression then pulled the cards up and slid them in with the rest of his hand. One card, a five, had been good for him. The other, a two had not been what he was looking for. He’d just given one away! No, what he needed right now was a nine.
He took a swig from the beer at his elbow and pondered briefly. His choices were simple. Fold, bluff, or cheat. His hand wasn’t awful, so the first choice was mentally crossed out. It wasn’t the greatest either... so bluffing might come into play if the others responded like they had something. Cheating... Well he could.
He wasn’t the first to bet, however, so the man decided to wait.
Again, he found his eyes drawn back to the new guy. That annoying little feeling he called instinct was trying to inform him to be wary, and despite his best efforts not to care, he found that, at least a little, he was intrigued.
|
|
Chase
New Member
Free Agent
Posts: 303
|
Post by Chase on Sept 10, 2008 22:33:50 GMT -5
"Come on, Lady Luck." Two cards were slid across the table in Chase's direction, and he slapped his hand down to catch them before the dealer - seeming a little miffed by the newcomer's blase attitude toward the game - flung them right over the table's edge. Flashing the guy a grin to show there were no hard feelings - Look out on your walk home tonight, friend - Chase lifted his cards and added them to his hand.
Five of hearts. I'm good for one...
And the other... A shiny red nine. A shiny red nine of diamonds, which killed his hopes for a flush, but a shiny red nine, nonetheless.
Didn't know you liked to being called a lady, Amazarak, but it's good to know you were listening, anyway.
At another time Chase might have stopped to ponder the likelihood that his adopted god was really behind his chance draw of the card he was looking for, but at the moment, in the midst of the thrill of knowing he could and likely would win the round, he was more than willing to attribute his random victory to the demon.
Masking his glee behind a neutral facade, Chase raised his eyes to survey the group. No one was grinning or groaning - they were too good for that - and he didn't really care enough to look for subtle tells. He was going to win the round. It was that simple.
The old, pot-bellied man sitting to Chase's right slid a bill toward the table's center, grunting "20."
Then it was Chase's turn. Match, raise, or fold. He smirked.
"Oh, come on, Grandpa. Live a little." He counted out several papers from his own pile and tossed them forward. "Let's make it an even 80."
|
|
|
Post by Dean Winchester on Oct 13, 2008 20:37:18 GMT -5
Dean pursed his lips and gave a thoughtful nod. Eighty bucks for the new guy... Was he bluffing a good hand or did he really have one? Another swig of beer and his mood swung and the hunter realized that he wasn’t sure that he cared. What did it matter anyway? What the hell was he even doing here?
“Hey, kid, it’s your turn. You gonna fold or what?” It was the grouchy round man that had slid the original $20.
Dean looked at his pile of winnings with distant eyes then slid over the $80 bet and raised another $20, letting the sleeve of his card hand slide up his wrist.
“I’ll raise again. To $100.” And as he brought his other hand back, supposedly to adjust his cards, he deftly slid out a cheat card, replacing one of his useless cards.
The person to his right, the player who’d not spoken since the round of bets had begun, snorted. She’d done that last time too. She didn’t think his bet was wise. She’d been wrong last time. She might not be this time.
He wasn’t really sure if it was initially an accident or not, but either way, he recognized truly what was happening as he shifted his position, switched his cards to his other hand, then reached for his drink with the other. He felt his stash of cheat cards slip, or maybe he made them slip, and several cards fell onto the table.
He looked down to the table in semi-surprise. the other players also looked, the elder players anyway, their shock more complete and that surprise changed quickly into rage.
Yup. The lady had been right. This time no one would win.
The man stood, pointing with a furious shaking finger. “You cheated! You’ve been cheating!” He exclaimed, repeating it as if it helped to ingrain the idea into his head.
Dean looked at them with a shrug, for some reason he couldn’t quite grasp he waited to see what they’d do about it. That’s when the woman also stood, her back turned to the table and despite the techno beat that pulsed in his ears he could hear the shout for security and he could see them respond.
“Get this man out of here! There’ll be no cheating in this establishment!” she shouted.
The ‘security’ consisted of two huge bouncers built like brick walls. No person wanting to leave in one piece would want to get these guys mad. Except for some reason... Dean really did.
“Hey, man, there’s no need to overreact,” Dean replied, standing as they came closer.
“We’re going to ask you to leave,” the fatter but smarter looking of the pair replied.
“It was an accident. Just a misunderstanding. I’ll just head back to the front and get a new drink, how about that,” he said, waving the whole group off with false nonchalance and the put on air of a man who’d had a little too much to drink.
As expected, the bouncers took this as an insult to their authority and, urged on by his apparent lack of cooperation and the angry urges of the fat man and yellow-toothed lady players, and they moved forward to force him out.
|
|
Chase
New Member
Free Agent
Posts: 303
|
Post by Chase on Jan 22, 2009 14:28:43 GMT -5
(OOC: Whoa... well, we'll just pretend this was one of those awful mid-season breaks some shows have that are months long or something. um, yeah. Now comes the brilliant return of our story. ) Well, that was a little unexpected. The defender of sunshine and puppies and all that was noble and good was doing something as immoral as cheating? The cards hit the table, and it took less than two seconds for the other players to explode in a tumult of righteous anger, diving to their feet and pointing outraged fingers as though he'd stolen their firstborn children instead of a couple of bucks. Winchester seemed unaffected by their anger - in fact, he didn't seem to be much of anything at all. There was an emptiness in his expression as the bouncers approached that would've had them nervous if they'd had the common sense to notice it. A guy looking like that was likely to do just about anything. A fight was moments away - Chase could taste it in the air like gunpowder. Now the only question was - did he want to sit back and watch or join in the brawl? ... Not much of a choice, actually, was there? Rising to his feet, Chase inched through the would-be mob of angry card-sharks and slung his arm casually around the larger bouncer's shoulder. "Hold on, pals," he drawled casually as the man, startled, halted his advance on Winchester. "Give the guy a break. Those fossils back there just don't know how to handle a joke, you know? They're old and grumpy - don't got anything else to live for." He paused and gave the second bouncer a slow, critical look. "Well, I guess you would know, huh?" It seemed to take a second for the bouncers to digest his words, and then another to get over their shock at his gall. At the start of the third second, all hell broke loose.
|
|
|
Post by Dean Winchester on Jan 26, 2009 1:30:11 GMT -5
Dean was surprised when the new guy inserted himself into the situation. Dean found himself slightly annoyed when the insulted bouncer turned his attention away from him. Just as everything around him seemed to go crazy and the bouncers exploded into action. He frowned a moment, but that moment was gone in the blink of an eye as one of the bouncers ended up colliding with Dean. whether the bouncer had been thrown or had tripped or something else wasn't clear to the hunter, but it didn't matter. Already on edge and ready for a fight, Dean shoved the man off him.
The bouncer stumbled away, but turned back to him, suddenly seeming to remember that Dean was a troublemaker as well. Dean smirked darkly as the bouncer took his first swing. Dean dodged it with ease. It seemed like Dean and the newbie weren't the only ones just waiting for a reason to fight. More people accidently pushed into other patrons began shouting arguments and many of these turned into fisticuffs and soon the chaos seemed to have spread throughout the club.
Dean, who was enjoying the distraction now that he was a part of it, found himself momentarily close to the new guy and he took the opportunity to talk (well, shout really).
"Look what you started!" he exclaimed with a laugh that angered his opponent into charging him. Dean didn't quite make it out of the way and found himself being slammed up against a wall that glowed with multicolored flashing lights. The music still throbbed through the air like a heartbeat, but from his new vantage point, Dean could see that the dancing had now stopped. As the man began pressing the air out of his chest, Dean wondered momentarily if he was still enjoying himself. The answer?
"Hell, yeah!" he choked before sending the bouncer spinning away with hook to the side of the head.
|
|
Chase
New Member
Free Agent
Posts: 303
|
Post by Chase on Mar 26, 2009 23:39:13 GMT -5
The club went from good, clean fun to chaos in mere seconds. Bouncer Number One broke under the strain of hearing the cold, hard truth, and came lunging at Chase with a wide, slow hook in the classic fashion of every brawn over brains fighter the world had ever seen. Who did they hire to protect this place? The biggest Neaderthals they could find, of course.
I big muscles. I swing, you quake in fear, I hit you, you go squish.
Unfortunately for the bouncer, Chase didn't start quaking. He sidestepped quickly as his opponent approached, tightening his grip around the larger bouncer's neck. The man wasn't ready for the sudden movement, or Chase's leg being carefully positioned behind his knee. He stumbled, and Chase let go, realizing that the big guy would either impact with the ground or Winchester pretty soon. Even though it would be fun to watch Dean go down like a domino, Chase turned away before the stumbling bouncer reached him. After all, he still had Thing One to deal with.
The shorter bouncer had halted his attack, one arm still raised, to watch his companion fall, but now his attention turned back to Chase, more enraged than before.
"You're gonna regret that," he snapped. Chase rolled his eyes.
"If you're going to threaten me, couldn't you at least use a less cliche line? You might as well ask me if I feel lucky or fall to your knees, crying your fallen friend's name in despair."
"Do you think this is a game?"
Chase risked a glance around the room, soaking up the dozens of brawls that had started just as easily as if he'd stood on a table and screamed "food fight!" in a middle school cafeteria at lunchtime. When he returned his gaze to his opponent he was practically beaming.
"What, are you kidding? This is the most fun I've seen any of these people having all night."
Thing One must have exhausted his vocabulary, because he just shook his head and went for a lunge. Thirty seconds later he was on the floor next to the overturned card table, counting the chirping birdies. Chase scowled. The guy hadn't even been worth pulling his knife on.
He heard Winchester shout out to him and smirked, turning to watch the Hunter's fight with Thing Two. Winchester got knocked into a wall, and Chase crossed his arms, debating the pros of helping him out. After all, the fun of fighting alongside such a celebrity aside, if They knew about this, They would most likely order Chase to act as Winchester's ally - help him out, gain his trust. There was nothing handier to have than an enemy's trust.
As he was still debating the best course of action, Chase felt a sudden, violent impact and hit the ground hard, the right side of his face burning, and the world tilting dangerously around him.
It looked like that slow hook had finally made its way to him, after all.
|
|
|
Post by Dean Winchester on Apr 21, 2009 20:04:19 GMT -5
The spinning bouncer recovered quickly from Dean’s strike. Not surprising. It hadn’t been one of his best. Without really thinking and just letting his anger and pent up frustration guide his movements Dean found himself blocking the bouncer’s next attack with vicious precision then stepping in closer to jab him hard in the face, land another blow on the guy’s neck, then grab him around the back of the head and drag the much larger man down into a knee.
He didn’t allow himself to think about the fact that this opponent had only been trying to do his job just like any normal guy. He needed this. He needed the adrenaline rush, the clear black and white of someone trying to hurt him and the need to defend himself from it. And so he took the bouncer’s assault on with extreme prejudice.
After the brutal series of strikes however, the bouncer seemed to be finished. Dean was not quite out of his mind enough to desire beating the man into unconsciousness. He was the victor and that was enough. He looked about him for that second bouncer only to find that the man was beating down on that new guy from the poker game. The kid was obviously down for the moment, but the bouncer, apparently enraged and apparently not the cream of the crop in terms of knowing right from wrong was striking down at him again. No matter what state of mind, dean always knew that this sort of thing was a way below the belt maneuver. You just don’t hit a man when he’s down!
Dean moved to assist only to have someone grab his ankle and send him sprawling. He yanked himself free as he hit the ground and looked back to see that his own bouncer was not through yet. He should have known a club like this wouldn’t hire somebody who’d get beat down that easily. The bouncer looked furious, but Dean no longer needed this fight.
“Dude, look, I’m sorry." Dean wasn't sorry, but he figured that was the quickest way to get his attention. "But could you just tell your buddy over there to lay off that guy!” Dean shouted over the noise and pointing back to the second bouncer. Dean hurried back to his feet, as did his bouncer, who –to his credit- followed Dean’s pointing hand and did not seem pleased.
without waiting for a response, Dean turned away and slipped up the second bouncer grabbing the guy's wrist as he pulled back for another blow. The guy seemed surprised and looked at Dean with a frown.
"That's not very nice," Dean growled.
(I know that's not a very good ending, but i figured I'd let you decide if the bouncer retaliates quickly or if Chase gets back up or if the second bouncer shows up or whatever. ;p)
|
|
Chase
New Member
Free Agent
Posts: 303
|
Post by Chase on Jun 13, 2009 13:29:28 GMT -5
The blood beading from the torn inside of his lips was wonderfully sweet and painfully bitter all at the same time. He lay on the ground for a second, savoring the burn on his jaw and watching the world spin, and that was long enough for the second blow to fall. This one felt harder, almost, and a ringing in his ears blocked out the muttered ravings of the bouncer as he loomed like a living shadow over Chase, swinging again, and then again.
After the third impact, he managed to get one arm up to cover his face - a broken nose could be mended quickly with demonic aid, but the jobs he'd seen still often ended up looking a bit bent. More than that, it would kill his reputation if he ended up being beaten into unconsciousness by this small-time idiot.
His head was still spinning, and even covering his face wasn't helping so much anymore - the creep had decided to switch to his ribs. If only he'd had even a touch of gifted power to work with he would be able to throw this guy off of him, no problem. But unfortunately, as it was, right now he was only human. A human with a possible concussion, no less... which would probably explain why he'd forgotten about his switchblade until now.
The blows seemed to slow for a moment - he didn't stop to figure out why - and one hand darted to his jeans pocket, pulling out the blade and flicking it open, oblivious to everything else as he moved to press it against his enemy's throat.
|
|
|
Post by Dean Winchester on Jun 29, 2009 13:46:16 GMT -5
Dean's eyes went wide when the kid who'd been floored and beaten to near unconsciousness only a few moments earlier had managed to sit himself up and whip out a blade from some hidden place. His survival instincts were strong.
The bouncer froze as the blade touched his throat. Dean could feel the guy tense beneath the shirt where Dean still held him.
"Whoa!" Dean exclaimed, stepping in a little closer to the stranger with the knife as if hoping to stay any further movement with the weapon. "That's enough."
He lifted his gaze to the frozen bouncer. "We're done, right? How about you apologize and we'll all just go our separate ways?"
|
|
Chase
New Member
Free Agent
Posts: 303
|
Post by Chase on Aug 17, 2009 20:29:08 GMT -5
Chase gritted his teeth as he heard Winchester cry out from somewhere nearby for him to stop. If his head had been a little clearer, he might have been willing to ignore his order for the simple pleasure of slitting the trembling bouncer's throat. So tough only seconds before, his eyes were now wide and he was frozen like a doe in headlights... or under a hungry predator's gaze. It was almost too tempting to resist... but in his state Chase was in no shape to break cover and incur the wrath of a dangerous Hunter.
Letting out a hiss and some of his frustration along with it, he forced himself to lower the blade. He steadied himself on the ground with the fist holding the knife, and with the other he reached up to gingerly touch his bruising temple.
"Whatever. Just get him the hell off me."
Not waiting for a response, he shoved the bouncer hard in the chest. Still rattled from his close encounter with a steely death, he tumbled back easily. Chase flipped his blade closed and pushed himself up to his feet. The quick movement jolted him more than he'd expected, and as he glared down at the bouncer, the world began to sway around him. Freaking concussion... He was going to lose his rep over this, for sure.
Despite his 'nice guy' act, he couldn't help smiling sarcastically and inclining his head toward Winchester as he addressed the bouncer.
"You should be glad you've got this guy willing to speak for you, friend. He's too nice for his own good, if you ask me."
|
|
|
Post by Dean Winchester on Oct 3, 2009 23:21:33 GMT -5
Dean helped drag the stunned bouncer off of the downed fighter and watched tensely as the knife-man spared one final moment to respond to his attacker after getting to his feet.
"You should be glad you've got this guy willing to speak for you, friend. He's too nice for his own good, if you ask me."
The Winchester frowned. he understood playing the tough guy even after having the crap kicked out of you. He'd done that before. But this was different. Dean didn't need his 'spider sense' to not that there was something more -something darker- about this new guy than met the eye and again the clearness of the black and white faded to a undefinable gray.
With a glare towards the exit, Dean waved a hand towards the stunned bouncers. "Don't worry, we're outta here. We know when we've overstayed our welcome."
Then he turned a stern stare at knife-man and nodded towards the door. "Come on."
It wasn't an invitation to join him, but an order to follow him out and a warning that staying would be dangerous. He realized only after he said it that he was sure he'd sounded just like his father when John had wanted his sons to follow without trouble. Usually that had illicited questions from Sam, except in the obviously dangerous situations rather than the hoped for silence, but Dean hoped he'd have a bit more luck with this guy than his father had with Sam. Especially considering the guy's current state of disarray.
Dean started towards the exit tapping the new guy gently on the shoulder and watching him, the bouncers, and the growing crowd warily. Then disappearing out the door and into the night.
[END]
|
|