Chase
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Post by Chase on Jul 3, 2008 11:47:36 GMT -5
Smashing up the car hadn't been difficult. In fact, it had been pretty fun. Chase had ended up with a couple of bruises when his forehead hit the steering wheel, but it hadn't been anything serious, and it had added authenticity to the story, so he wasn't complaining.
What had been difficult, though, was finding a car to use for the set up in the first place. In movies there were always just cars lying about with the keys left under the floor mat or behind the rearview blinder, but the real world was finally catching on that that wasn't a good plan, and even small hick-towns like this were learning to be more careful. It had taken Chase half the night to track down a car with keys in it for him to steal.
Not that he couldn't have hot-wired the car, but the auto-salvage yard might have been a little suspicious when he brought it in without any keys and the wiring pulled out and fused.
Last night's encounter with the older brother had been... interesting, to say the least, but it had only left Chase more eager to get a look at the other half of the Winchester puzzle. He didn't want to wait around hoping to catch baby bro out on his own again, so he'd decided to go straight into the belly of the beast, and engineer a run-in at the very place he’d been staying. Of course, there was always the chance that he'd run into Dean again, here, but he didn't think he would. The older brother hadn't really struck Chase as a morning person during their last encounter.
He drove the sputtering car into the yard, just as a cloud of smoke escaped from the hood and puffed up into the sky. It had been making odd, croaking noises ever since he’d run it into that tree, and he hoped it wasn’t planning on blowing up or something any time soon.
Screeching to a stop in the middle of the yard, he tapped his horn once and called out, “Hey, I need some assistance, here!”
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Post by Sam Winchester on Jul 3, 2008 19:22:48 GMT -5
Sam winced at the sudden honk from the salvage yard. He was sitting at Bobby's kitchen table, nursing a cup of coffee and trying to ignore the construction site full of workers busy drilling, nailing, and sawing through the inside of his skull. Bobby was at the stove, frying some eggs and sausages with a small smirk on his face, clearly having absolutely no sympathy for what the smell of his breakfast was doing to Sam's stomach.
He'd come to a realization the night before, that alcohol was an evil, evil thing, and he would never be touching it again. But knowing that didn't stop the hangover from punishing him today.
"Hey, I need some assistance, here!"
Sam winced again and looked at Bobby, who was still frying away, seemingly oblivious.
"That's not very good customer service, you know."
The older man smirked back over his shoulder.
"Hey, the sausages would burn if I just left them sizzling here, and I know you're sure as hell not gonna come close enough to 'em to keep an eye on 'em. So either one of my princess house guests is gonna have to drag themselves out there to see how the guy's car is, or he's just gonna have to wait a few minutes."
Sam didn't take long debating his options. He didn't much feel like moving, but he definitely didn't want to have to sit here and keep smelling Bobby's sausages while the customer continued honking outside. He took a final gulp of coffee - coffee, he had decided, was a heavenly drink full of righteous goodness - he dragged himself to his feet and started heading toward the door. As he left, Bobby called over his shoulder, "I'll just leave your sausages in the greasy pan for you, 'til you get back, ok?"
Groaning, Sam pushed the door open and stepped out into the blinding sunlight. He blinked a few times and then squinted into the yard. A man around his own age, maybe a few years younger, was frowning at the crunched hood of a red, two-door sedan. Sam knew pretty much nil about cars, but he was pretty sure that the smoke puffing out of the hood couldn't be a good sign.
Stepping off the porch and moving toward the car, Sam cleared his throat to catch the man's attention and said, "So, I guess 'what's the problem' would be a stupid question, huh?"
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Chase
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Post by Chase on Aug 2, 2008 23:45:00 GMT -5
This was too easy.
Chase slid out of the front seat of his car, flashing a rueful grin at the squinting brunet who had just appeared in the doorway of what looked like the salvage owner’s house. The man before him was almost unnaturally tall, in top physical condition, and had classic, trustworthy… hell, almost angelic features – that is, they would be if he hadn’t been scrunching up his face against the cheery morning sunlight.
Angelic… ironic.
When Chase had first laid eyes on the younger brother Winchester, two days before, he had already known who he was, and what he meant. He was Azazel’s favorite to lead his army in the upcoming war, which made him Amazarak’s protected child. He was also a Hunter, sworn to kill Azazel, and therefore the enemy of everything the Followers held dear. Chase had kept that in mind as he'd observed him from across a grocery store, watching for signs of the power that Azazel so coveted, signs of a leader, a champion, an... anything special, really. But all he'd seen was a man. An unnaturally polite man, in Chase's opinion, who, despite being wracked with misery over his father's recent death, had still thought to thank the man at the cash register when he'd been handed his change, and had held open the door on the way out for an older woman whose arms were full of groceries.
Maybe he was tough enough to take out a few demons and monsters, but that didn't make him all that special. And his granny-helping attitude definitely wouldn't win him any points in the eyes of a demon. So what made him Azazel's favorite?
A real puzzle was Sam Winchester… and Chase had never been all that patient when it came to games. Unless, of course, he was the one in charge.
And speaking of, time to play.
“Hey… yeah. I was driving home late last night when some sort of crazed chipmunk dove into the road in front of me and…” Chase trailed off, shrugging.
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Post by Sam Winchester on Aug 4, 2008 11:47:40 GMT -5
Sam shook his head. Maybe it was that his brain was simultaneously screaming for more alcohol, a bottle of aspirin, and a swift conk on the head to knock him into blissful unconsciousness where the headache couldn’t follow him, but he wasn’t quite following the customer’s story.
“Wait… so a chipmunk caused that huge dent in the front of your car?”
Maybe it was some sort of a… demon chipmunk? Or a great beast disguising itself as a chipmunk? Or… maybe this customer had some bizarre fear that he would be killed by a chipmunk, and a monster was bringing his fears to life by creating an indestructible chipmunk that was going to hunt him down until it killed him. Like… a Terminator chipmunk or something.
Sam shook his head slightly, forcing his thoughts from the bizarre image of a tiny, fuzzy animal in a leather jacket and a machine gun.
His thoughts had made more sense at the bar last night… and that was saying something.
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Chase
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Post by Chase on Aug 5, 2008 22:20:58 GMT -5
Chase bit back a smirk, forcing his expression into an innocently amused smile.
The squinting was starting to make sense, now, along with the sickly paleness that hadn’t been there when he’d observed Sam last week. He should have guessed, when he’d missed him the night before, where he’d gone.
While big brother Winchester went out betting and brawling to get his sorrow about poor Papa Winchester’s death out, little Sammy chose to drink his problems away. What a formidable pair these two were turning out to be. Chase could completely see why the underworld was so afraid of them. Oh, and that was sarcasm, by the way.
“Uh, not so much.” He even added in an embarrassed laugh. A nice touch, if he did say so himself. “That would be the tree I swerved into to avoid the dumb thing.”
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Post by Sam Winchester on Aug 15, 2008 14:44:05 GMT -5
Right, a tree. That would make more sense.
The gun-wielding biker squirrel, which had just started laughing in a high and frankly disturbing voice in Sam's head, was tucked carefully away in some untouched corner of his mind, hopefully never to be seen again. A rueful smile touched Sam's lips as he knelt down to get a better look at the crunched front fender.
"Sorry, man, I'm not usually this out of it in the mornings."
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Chase
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Post by Chase on Sept 10, 2008 21:33:05 GMT -5
“Long night?” Chase smirked. As though anyone’s night hadn’t been long. His eyes drifted toward the building, wondering not for the first time if he would get to run into Big Brother Winchester on this expedition. If he did that would definitely raise Dean’s suspicions, potentially even ruining his cover as an innocent road-tripper stopping in town for a few days. What would Amazarak do if that happened? He almost wanted to run into Dean, just to find out.
Because he was curious, understand, not because he was suicidal.
“Hope you’re not too tired to get my car fixed up today, though. Got a big hunting trip a little ways out of town and it would it would kill me to miss it.”
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Post by Sam Winchester on Sept 28, 2008 13:58:03 GMT -5
Sam’s head shot up so fast that he actually felt his neck strain.
“Hunting?”
That was a hint if he had ever heard one. Did this guy know who Sam was? Or was it Bobby he’d heard of? After all, Bobby’s junkyard wasn’t exactly the Roadhouse, but it wasn’t a huge secret within the Hunter circles, either. If he was a friend of Bobby’s or, more likely, he knew someone who was a friend of Bobby, he might be loathe to say something about it outright when he wasn’t sure whether Sam was just hired help or in the know.
Then again, even if Sam’s head wasn’t at its best this morning, he still knew he couldn’t just ask this man whether he was on the trail of a deer or a Wendigo.
“You, uh… you hunt?”
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Chase
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Post by Chase on Oct 9, 2008 22:38:56 GMT -5
He was making this too easy. Well, too amusing, anyway, though even Chase realized that he was treading close to dangerous ground.
Well, what kind of a game would it be if he wasn't?
"All sorts of game," he replied with a casual shrug, before crouching down to run an assessing hand over a long silver scratch across the car's crimson bumper. "Beasties big and small. Hard work, and some people I know downright hate it, but I think it can be really rewarding, you know?" He tapped the bumper with his finger and then looked to Sam, shrugging. "As long as they don't decide to hit you back before you take them down."
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Post by Sam Winchester on Oct 9, 2008 23:39:26 GMT -5
The kid was a master of vagueness, that was for sure. Sam shot a glance toward the house, hoping Bobby would step out and ID him so they could stop playing these word games. Blinking back another throb in his temple - it was a lot more bearable now, whether because the hangover was blessedly passing or because of Sam's alertness and adrenaline kicking into gear, the younger Winchester didn't know or particularly care. Finally, he was able to focus.
The car's damage didn't look like the result of an attack by any creatures of the night Sam had encountered, but then, there were a lot of ways that supernatural entities could force a car into a perfectly accidental-looking collision - by using unseen powers to take control of the car, chasing a retreating Hunter at high speeds, or just by appearing in a sudden flicker in the back seat and freaking the Hunter the hell out. There was really no way to tell.
Getting backup definitely seemed like the best idea. Rising to his feet, Sam wiped his hands together, brushing bits of dirt and gravel off his palms.
"Well... to be honest I'm not really the car expert around here. But let me go back inside and get the owner to take a look at this. He'll be able to give you a quick estimate."
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Chase
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Post by Chase on Dec 9, 2008 12:50:33 GMT -5
To meet or not to meet the beloved would-be uncle?
The longer Chase stuck around, the more likely it was he'd stumble into big brother Winchester, or get bored and accidentally push little Sammy from confusion into suspicion. Besides, he'd done the meet and greet, and gotten a read on Azazel's chosen. This game was getting old, anyway.
"Look, I've actually got to go. I'm late for my next job as it is, so how 'bout you guys fix up the car and I'll pick it up later. Money's not an issue, so really clean it up, alright?"
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Post by Sam Winchester on Dec 31, 2008 13:32:02 GMT -5
The customer's sudden retreat stalled Sam's departure. He shifted, squinting against the sunlight as he tried to take in the other man's expression. From what he could see there was no nervousness there, as there might be if he was about to dive back into a dangerous hunt. There wasn't even any of the thrilled anticipation he'd seen too many times in Dean's or his father's eyes before a good brawl. There was absolutely nothing in his expression that would lead Sam to ask if he was alright, or if he needed help on this "job" he claimed he needed to do, but he still felt wary about letting a potential ally go off without a word.
Well, it's not exactly like he'll be disappearing forever, is it? He'll be back later for his car.
"Yeah, alright," Sam replied slowly, before adding. "You should leave a name, though, in case I'm not around later. I mean, unless you already know the owner and he can ID you." A smirking voice that suggested to Sam that he had been spending far too much time lately with his brother chuckled smooth, Sammy. "And maybe your cell number too, so we can let you know when the car's ready."
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Chase
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Post by Chase on Jan 26, 2009 0:49:22 GMT -5
He was obviously fishing, which meant that he was intrigued. Chase smirked and pretended not to notice.
"I don't know the owner. Just passing through town, actually." He paused for a moment, debating whether or not to offer a fake name for the stolen car. Decided not to bother. After all, what did it matter if the chosen boy knew his name or not? "The name's Chase. And I'll come by tomorrow to check on the car. No offense or anything - only want my phone used for, you know, emergencies." He paused for a second, allowing those words to rattle around in the Hunter's head. He didn't know why exactly he wanted Sam Winchester to think he was a Hunter. There was no real rhyme or reason behind it - mainly it just amused him.
And hell, why not? Someday it might come in handy.
Turning back toward the road, he started away, throwing up a hand in a casual wave as he went.
"Anyway, got to split. But I'm sure I'll be seeing you..."
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