I have seen the future, brother, it is murder.

[iron_and_latin]

((closed RP for Sam and the Master))

(It's like an old picture in black and white from some noir film, a beautiful woman smoking a cigarette, the man across from her sipping something expensive from a highball glass. They're talking, words he doesn't quite understand, and there's laughter in their tones, an almost lightness. He recognizes her, it'

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[hear_the_drums]

"Oh, this isn't fun, my boy." He knocked the flailing hand out of the way and moved back around to stand in front of Sam Winchester. Something else was retrieved from a pocket, harder to see this time. "This is science."

He sliced into the younger man's forearm, deep enough to get the blood running freely.

[iron_and_latin]

"Bull," Sam grunted as the knife dug in. Someone with sharp enough eyes might have noticed a long, faint scar just next to where the blade pierced his skin. "That's what they always say, it's nothing personal Sam, it's an experiment, it's for the greater good, the bigger picture, yada yada. I still just see a guy slicing into my arm with a knife."

[hear_the_drums]

The Master did have sharp enough eyes. And pairing the scar with the interesting angst, it prompted a few extra questions. "Ah, so this sort of thing happens to you often then? Always a shame not to be the first."

The mystery object happened to be a vial. He let the blood from the gash drip into it.

[iron_and_latin]

"Yeah. He was a psycho too. What the hell are you doing?"

[hear_the_drums]

Most people know the rules; it's never smart to call the psycho a psycho. Psychos tend to believe that they're better than that. They're people with vision that are fortunately unburdened by annoying things like a moral compass and empathy for all living creatures.

So to say that Sam Winchester had made the Master angry... was a bit of an understatement.

Sam's mind suffered for it. The controlling force suddenly branched out and entered areas where it was naturally repelled, among memories that brought happiness, even bliss. And there weren't many of them by any means, making it much easier to violate the ones that mattered with an unwanted presence. Brother, father, girlfriend... two on the list were dead. Sam Winchester had the worst luck of any human being he'd yet encountered.

"Blood sample. Hope you don't mind."

[iron_and_latin]

It actually had little to do with luck.

Dean's face above him, his hands against the scratchy motel blankets as he tucks Sam in. Sitting by his Dad's feet and eating gingerbread cookies the one Christmas there were no monsters near enough to be hunting. Holding Jess's hand on the quad and the first time they kissed.

And, unbidden, her voice from his nightmares "Sam? Why? Why Sam?"

"Not at all," he managed to gasp out, "I'm just punching you in the head and calling you names because I think it will make the process so comfortable for the both of us."

[hear_the_drums]

"Temper, temper, Mr. Winchester," the Master tutted out loud.

-and she burned on the ceiling, the woman he loved, and that's somehow relevant, the same way his brother's car is, and Sam's unconventional education is, and you would push that, but you can't tax this one to exhaustion, not if you're planning on having anymore fun with it-

He stoppered the vial and slipped it back into his pocket.

"Would you like to leave now?"

[iron_and_latin]

He grit his teeth and didn't answer, because the question was too mocking for any response not to sound lame. And it didn't matter what he said either way.

"What are you going to do with it?" he asked after a moment's thought.

[hear_the_drums]

"Smear it on the wall and start my own cult rituals with it," the Master deadpanned. He took a step back from the kneeling form. "What do scientists usually do with blood samples? Think hard, Mr. Winchester, I know it's arduous at the moment."

A moment later he swooped forward, touching two fingers to the side of the young man's head, amplifying their connection to the point where his own slightly projected thoughts came through in surround sound. "You never did answer my question."

[iron_and_latin]

"But wh-" Sam started, but then the alien was way close and touching his face, and that was so not cool. He wanted to tell him to back off, but...

"Yes."

[hear_the_drums]

The Master smiled.

"That wasn't so hard, was it?"

The locks and bindings slipped away, leaving invisible mental scars that would make it easier for him to get back in next time. And there would be a next time.

"I'll be seeing you again soon, I imagine," he said lazily. "But I suggest you run off for now."

[iron_and_latin]

Sam's first impulse was to curl in on himself, but he was better trained than that and scrambled to his feet instead, stumbling backwards to put a little distance between them and instinctively falling into a better fighting posture. For all the good it would do him.

It was almost funny, how casually he was dismissed. Or would have been, had it not been for the fact that it reasserted just how much in control of the situation the Master still was.

Still, there was nothing to do but back away, so he did, never taking his eyes of the alien and certainly not giving the bastard the satisfaction of seeing him run.

[hear_the_drums]

He didn't need to run. He told the Master plenty enough by his choice not to.

And soon after, the Master retreated back into City Hall, leaving the door slightly ajar.