Nightshift 50 - M1-M10 Hallway
Like Dean was supposed to believe the whole beaming down crap was supposed to be all for their benefit. You wanted to help someone, you didn't kidnap them from their homes - or friggen time machines like the Doctor - and then offer them great food and a pat on the head like that made it a-okay.
Whatever it was, this wasn't from the goodness of the ( Read more... )
Whatever it was, this wasn't from the goodness of the ( Read more... )
“Real funky timing,” Dean fingered the ring, running his thumbnail over the blood coral set in the band. “It’s too big to be your typical illusion. Too many individual Twilight Zones there, and then there’s the whole shared experience thing, too.”
That right there made it stand out. There’d been that time with the Trickster, but that thing back then hadn’t gone full tilt and created entire illusions of worlds only to leave them all creepily empty of people. The Trickster had been all for realism. Okay, so it was cracked out realism, but the point was when he’d run into those two hot chicks - aka, the Trickster’s “white flag” - they’d looked plenty real to him. All of ‘em. Didn’t seem like a Trickster’s kind of style to go after a big mass of people indiscriminately, much less not bother with the usual bells and whistles. Then there was that announcement from their favorite nut job over the intercom. Ego like that, Dean was totally willing to bet the guy had a small dick he was compensating for in a big way. Figures. Jack-off.
Unfortunately, Tiny Dick out there was still working some serious hoodoo and that made him a big friggen threat. They weren’t much closer to figuring out what he was or how, exactly, he kept this whole place running. Big operation like this, it wasn’t just one spell fits all.
The teleport thing to these empty “worlds” bothered Dean the more he thought about it. Landels already had the ability to jack people from anywhere - and supposedly any when, if Dean was supposed to believe the Doctor (made a guy wonder why he didn’t try kidnapping Albert Einstein or a badass like Neil Armstrong). Last night with the portals, or whatever you wanted to call ‘em, and now these magic rings? Dean really couldn’t say he liked the idea of the Head Doctor refining this so he could get even more accurate.
Real cheery thought there.
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Maybe not typical, but that seemed to be the point. If he thought about it, there was nothing especially new that was going on here, not really. They were still dealing with something whose potentiality was rooted in whatever existing lore there was. All that was happening was that this was occurring on a much larger scale.
"The only thing I'm not sure about right now is pinpointing what's based on an illusion and what's real," Sam went on. "I mean, I don't think we can take it all the way here and just say everything. There has to be a-a foundation of some sort. Ground zero."
The institute itself couldn't be it, not if they considered the shifting landscape. That first night had proven it pretty solidly. He'd seen that hole in the door, and there was no way it could've been repaired by morning that fast. Something had been done, something not normal. And the way the town had simply aged, started to fall apart, as soon as the sun set. But where the institute rested was another thing altogether. It was an option. The only issue was figuring out where they were in the first place, where this institute and the town was located. Geographically and temporally.
Sounded simple, laid out like that.
He was still thinking when the intercom flicked on. He glanced up, about to say something else when a sudden high-pitched whine pierced right through the air. His hand flew to his head. Dammit, what-? It wasn't anything he'd felt before, not a vision headache or the headaches that followed the use of his abilities. This was clearly from an external source. It didn't last long, fading as quickly as it came.
He'd been fully expecting something terrible to happen right after, but a few seconds ticked by with nothing. Okay. Not exactly settling.
He slid his gaze towards his brother. God, seriously, he was tired of the crap this place spat out every night. "You know, I don't even wanna ask."
And yeah, he was tempted to take a look outside and see what the hell had just happened, but, well. The building was still standing and he couldn't hear any screams. Whatever had gone down, chances were good he wouldn't find out until tomorrow, based on hearsay and secondhand reports. Business as usual.
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If that was a spell, it wasn't like any spell he'd ever heard. For one thing, no incantation. There were some badasses who could do it with just a word. But he'd definitely heard the Head Doctor typing away at what sounded like a keyboard and that right there wasn't the usual method for hitting someone with a spell or a curse. There was also the cheesy sci-fi route - maybe they'd got implants or something upon arriving (they didn't know exactly how long they were unconscious).
Dean looked up at Sam, wincing, and seeing that same pain on his brother's face. It sounded pretty off the wall to him.
Then again, so had old school aliens and time travel.
Dean got up - okay, more like staggered up - and went over to Sam. It was just automatic to check him over, make sure the kid wasn't bleeding himself and he was in the same shape as he was. Satisfied that he looked fine, aside from just getting hit with the same skull-splitting sound, Dean rubbed again at his ear. Goddamn, it was going to be ringing for a while, wasn't it?
"The hell was that?" Dean asked. His voice felt kinda tinny as he spoke, thanks to that godawful noise. "Didn't seem to do anything."
"Seem" was the keyword here, though. Plenty of stuff out there that could do all kinds of crap and Average Joe wouldn't notice, at least not until it was too late.
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He waved his brother off, automatic, and eyed Dean right back. Dean didn't seem so much affected as he was annoyed. The hell was that was a good question.
Sam shook his head. It was already fading, not as crippling as the visions had gotten sometimes and definitely nothing like the migraine that had plagued him just two nights ago.
"I think this is a case of wait and see," he replied. Which he knew wouldn't sit well with Dean-it didn't sit well with him, for that matter-but unless Dean had any ideas as to where to start looking...Besides, if it was going to be anything, he had a feeling it would find them before they could find it. Whatever that had been, one thing was obvious: its effects were meant to be internal, not external.
Great.
He lifted his eyes to the ceiling in brief exasperation, but all he found up there was that stupid magenta-colored trap. Funny that none of the staff had scrubbed it off. Maybe they just didn't care. He sighed.
Wait, what were they even talking about before that damn thing interrupted them?
Oh, right.
"Look, Dean, we really need to sort out a priority list here. We can't just keep-reacting and retreating. At the very least, we need to start figuring out why the hell we're here."
He didn't like how scattered he'd been lately, and while he could start organizing himself well enough, it'd be good if he could know what it was Dean was looking at, as well. Coordination was never a bad idea. And motive was always a good place to trace back to. It all started there. It didn't matter if you were a demon or a swamp monster; they all did things for a reason, even if that reason was as simple as I'm freaking hungry. They just had to find it, that was all.
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