282.
elvenpath and I are bad people. Very, very bad people. I submit for your disapproval our round robin: the magical adventures of the Winchesters, Chris Redfield and a whole surprise cast of characters.
elvenpath: The weather was particularly harsh this afternoon, Chris Redfield realized as he stepped out of his tent in the middle of Who Fucking Cares, Africa. The sun didn't just shine through the leaves of the trees in the jungle, it seemed to actually MELT them on its way down to the surface of the earth. No matter. Trained in many arts-- of those being that of a bear that can survive the harshest conditions-- Chris was fully adept to dealing with this sort of thing. What he wasn't used to dealing with was the sight before him just beyond his campsite.
pianotheme: He had set up camp in the middle of the few clearings to be found in such a dense jungle, and all around him were the sounds of footsteps in the hot, damp earth. Bushes shivered as someone -- or something, and Chris, relying on his keen bear senses, was betting on "thing" -- circled him, the usual cacophony of birds and buzzing insects could scarcely cover the raspy moans and groans that belonged to whatever was skulking in the shadows.
elvenpath: The murmured groaning grew closer and closer with every passing second, growing louder and louder until almost-- just almost-- it became comprehensible. It seemed almost as though it wasn't the sound of any creature at all. No, it sounded more like voices. Human voices. Complaining human voices, shouting back and forth at one another. Both male. Both speaking in perfect English. They couldn't have been natives, that was for sure. Curious now, Chris took a few steps closer towards the dense brush. And then, finally, he could hear words.
"I'm telling you, Sammy, there's no way this is where Death is hiding out. Cas must've zapped us to the wrong place."
pianotheme: Chris, anticipating an ambush, had his gun cocked and at the ready, but lowered the weapon quizzically at the appearance of two fellow red white and blue fuck yeah Americans.
It was a short, chubby girl accompanied by her taller and better-looking brother who mopped sweat from his brow and gave his sister a mildly agitated look.
"No argument here. Call him, have him bring us back. Maybe there's something we missed with Crowley's instructions," he responded, spitting the name 'Crowley' as if it were chewing tobacco into a cup. God, Chris missed chewing tobacco.
elvenpath: It was the strangest thing, though, how neither of these two noticed the giant fucking bear standing right before them. What a sight they must've been then. All three of them were clearly out of their element: a bear, a boomer, and a prissy gargantuan moose all standing together in the middle of a jungle so dense and humid that it might actually be a parallel universe that existed within Chris's own ass. He gave a snide look and a scoff that was so prickish it was as though he'd stolen it from Leon Kennedy's own face, then addressed his new companions.
"You won't get cell reception out here," he said. "Do you have any idea where you are?"
pianotheme: Noticing him for the first time, an accomplishment only made possible by their redundant bear-shielding shield that could only be broken by the bear addressing them in gruff tones. The fat girl who looked like she always cried nodded in acknowledgment at the great big hulk of a man with boobs that rivaled Pam Anderson's.
"If I didn't know better, I'd say Hell. But I do know better, so that's moot. So, Rambo, why don't you enlighten us?"
The girl's handsome older brother wrinkled his landing strip of a forehead and passively patted the air, as if he was trying to soothe a wild animal that was about to eat them. But Chris had abstained from meat as a precautionary measure. Wild cow disease was still a concern, right?
"Please, it's important that we get back to the city right away. Can you point us in the right direction?"
elvenpath: "City?" Chris asked. "What city? The only way to get around in these parts is to be able to tackle the terrain."
When the mismatched siblings stared at him as though he'd just told them that he believed in unicorns (well... he did, but that was a completely different point all together), he decided to expand. Figuratively, anyway. The fact of the matter was that if Chris got any bigger physically, he'd probably end up throwing the gravitational pull of the earth out of whack.
"You're in boulder-punching territory now," he said.
The fat girl's eyebrows shot up in disbelief at his words. Chris had seen the look before. Particularly on Leon's stupid fucking face at McDonald's when the kid behind the counter told him that they no longer served the McRib. And-- hey, wait a minute. That girl had an Adam's Apple. Oh, goddamn it. It wasn't the first time Chris had made that mistake. At least this time the guy still had all of his clothes on before he figured it out.
"We're in what territory?" she-- HE-- the short one asked, voice nearly drowning in befuddlement.
pianotheme: "Boulder-punching territory," Chris repeated, digging around the nearby foliage for a rock big enough to include in an example. He eventually found one that towered over even the littlest giant with bad hair. Chris volleyed it into the air and punched it with just a fraction of his strength as it fell back down, sending the boulder soaring through the jungle, halving trees and completely annihilating the innocent creatures that called the jungle home. Chris made a mental note to hold a candlelight vigil for them in private later.
The two companions stared in abject amazement at Chris' inhuman and freakish skills. Sammy, a fellow freak, felt his heart flutter in his chest. But before either of them had time to give Chris his due asspats, a figure appeared in the boulder-sized hole where forest once stood. A man of medium-build and striking blue eyes, inadvisedly wearing a trench coat in Africa's oppressive heat.
elvenpath: The man in question definitely appeared younger than the other three already in the picture, and possibly twice as cocky. His coat was gray and his hair was blonde, and for some reason he wasn't wearing a shirt beneath his extremely gay-looking blue vest that shown beneath his coat. He sauntered-- no, swayed-- no, sashayed-- no, strutted towards the other three men, holding some long, phallic looking blade in his hand that for some reason had a gun handle for a hilt.
Suddenly, there was a feeling amongst Chris and the two brothers that they were all on the same side. This newcomer was the opposition. Everything about him screamed "I'M A GIGANTIC DICK." Though not in the good way. That was just the way Seifer Almasy operated.
"Which one of you morons is throwing around earth magic like it's a toy?" he demanded as he approached.
pianotheme: Chris, Sam and Dean exchanged perplexed, bemused and slightly nauseous looks at the loud-mouthed newcomer who regarded them with a haughty gaze in turn.
"I don't like to repeat myself," Seifer drawled, propping his gunblade on his shoulder like he was some kind of bad ass or something. I mean, give me a break.
Finally, and perhaps inevitably, Dean piped up. "No magic here, Harry Potter; and unless you know a way out of here, why don't you turn tail and go back where you came from?"
elvenpath: Though, maybe there was some magic in the air. Because the second Dean opened his big fat fucking fat fat mouth about there not being magic, something strange happened. Something very strange. And the more strange things that began to happen, the more Chris started to feel sick. Why couldn't he just punch boulders and shoot black people in the face in peace? There always had to be SOMETHING getting in his way. Jill gets kidnapped, or Wesker tries to tentacle rape him, or Leon wanders away and gets lost because he can't take his eyes off of a set of boobs for five fucking seconds.
This time was something completely different, though. The jungle around them had vanished, as well as the heat. They were inside somewhere. Somewhere weird. Somewhere extremely fucking stupid-looking, too. Like someone had a really bad acid trip and started stealing things off of the walls of Applebee's, then took everything home and nailed it to the walls and the ceiling in a cock-eyed kind of way.
Fortunately, Sam seemed to know where they were.
"Wait a minute, this is..." he started, growing angrier and angrier with every word he said. Chris vaguely wondered if mooses (moose's? moose? moosi?) were prone to raging outbursts and charging at people, but then he remembered that his bear-like instincts would be able to handle it. Bear vs moose, duh, clear winner there. "This is the Brauer County Mystery Spot."
"Gabriel," Dean spat.
pianotheme: Right away, Dean and Sam set about tearing the place apart, yelling and threatening Gabriel to show himself. Chris was on the verge of scolding them about destroying other people's property, but decided instead to join in the fun, throwing himself bodily at furniture because that's how Redfields hug.
Seifer looked disgusted at the events unfolding before him and wandered off to find Squall and tease him about his latent homosexuality until he cried. Shit was SO cash.
Their gleeful destruction didn't go unnoticed for very long. A man with lank black hair and a rumpled suit burst through a door, looking around with what was meant to be wild-eyed desperation, but since he was such a terrible actor it came off unforgivably cheesy.
"Oh, hi!" he began in a thick European accent, "I ahm luhking for mai fiancé Lisa. She's verah brootiful and sexy. Hahve you seen hur?"
elvenpath: From the opposite side of the room, a disembodied voice shouted, "The Room?! I love that movie!"
pianotheme: The European man paused in his incoherent ramblings to laugh for no reason whatsoever, and Chris's blood positively boiled at the thought that he could possibly be French. Maybe half-French, but God help him.
Then, without another word, the black-haired man departed, closing the door behind him. He was safe from Chris's xenophobic and uncontrollable blood lust. For now.
By this time, Dean was using Sam like a battering ram, driving his head through the walls in case Gabriel was smirkingly hiding in the insulation, that jerk! Sam, who's head was made of 70% alchemist stone, didn't feel anything and even silently contemplated what to have for dinner once this whole mess was over.
After they thoroughly destroyed the walls, the Winchesters stood back and gaped at who they found instead. Not Gabriel, but someone far worse.
elvenpath: It was Castiel, though not in any state that they'd ever seen him in before. He'd abandoned the Holy Tax Accountant garb that had long overstayed its welcome (and most likely smelled like blood and feces at this point) in favor of something a bit
more
sassy.
Sam was awestruck immediately, as though the sassiness of Castiel's new look and demeanor was somehow resonating somewhere deep within his soul. After all, it wouldn't be the first time that Sam's soul had been brutally taken, raped, and otherwise violated by a supernatural being with immense strength. Dean, upon seeing what was to come, took a few hesitant steps back until he stood at Chris's side. It was for protection, maybe. But could a boomer really find refuge behind a bear? Chris merely gave him a sidelong glance of "is this niggaguy serious?" before turning his attention back to Sam and Cas.
From seemingly nowhere, music started. Bad music. No, good music, actually. Fantastic music. 80's music. And before Chris and Dean's very eyes, Sam Winchester and Castiel began to dance in the most sassy way imaginable.
pianotheme: Castiel, being the smaller of the two in terms of stature, build and forehead, was swept up in Sam's powerful arms and held close to his chest. Close enough to enjoy the sound of his heart beating, which Castiel did to the fullest, his ear pressed to Sam's chest and a peaceful smile on his face. They twirled, leapt and pretty much nanced about like a couple of fairies until the music swelled and they captured each other's mouths in a searing kiss that would most assuredly have the obese and chronically untouched housewives in the audience swoon.
Chris and Dean could only watch in stunned silence, feeling bile rise in their throats as the angel and the younger Winchester pawed at one another. Chris gulped loudly as Sam divested Cas of his shirt and nudged Dean in the arm, thinking he had nothing to lose at this point.
"Wanna fuck?"
THE END...?
elvenpath: The weather was particularly harsh this afternoon, Chris Redfield realized as he stepped out of his tent in the middle of Who Fucking Cares, Africa. The sun didn't just shine through the leaves of the trees in the jungle, it seemed to actually MELT them on its way down to the surface of the earth. No matter. Trained in many arts-- of those being that of a bear that can survive the harshest conditions-- Chris was fully adept to dealing with this sort of thing. What he wasn't used to dealing with was the sight before him just beyond his campsite.
pianotheme: He had set up camp in the middle of the few clearings to be found in such a dense jungle, and all around him were the sounds of footsteps in the hot, damp earth. Bushes shivered as someone -- or something, and Chris, relying on his keen bear senses, was betting on "thing" -- circled him, the usual cacophony of birds and buzzing insects could scarcely cover the raspy moans and groans that belonged to whatever was skulking in the shadows.
elvenpath: The murmured groaning grew closer and closer with every passing second, growing louder and louder until almost-- just almost-- it became comprehensible. It seemed almost as though it wasn't the sound of any creature at all. No, it sounded more like voices. Human voices. Complaining human voices, shouting back and forth at one another. Both male. Both speaking in perfect English. They couldn't have been natives, that was for sure. Curious now, Chris took a few steps closer towards the dense brush. And then, finally, he could hear words.
"I'm telling you, Sammy, there's no way this is where Death is hiding out. Cas must've zapped us to the wrong place."
pianotheme: Chris, anticipating an ambush, had his gun cocked and at the ready, but lowered the weapon quizzically at the appearance of two fellow red white and blue fuck yeah Americans.
It was a short, chubby girl accompanied by her taller and better-looking brother who mopped sweat from his brow and gave his sister a mildly agitated look.
"No argument here. Call him, have him bring us back. Maybe there's something we missed with Crowley's instructions," he responded, spitting the name 'Crowley' as if it were chewing tobacco into a cup. God, Chris missed chewing tobacco.
elvenpath: It was the strangest thing, though, how neither of these two noticed the giant fucking bear standing right before them. What a sight they must've been then. All three of them were clearly out of their element: a bear, a boomer, and a prissy gargantuan moose all standing together in the middle of a jungle so dense and humid that it might actually be a parallel universe that existed within Chris's own ass. He gave a snide look and a scoff that was so prickish it was as though he'd stolen it from Leon Kennedy's own face, then addressed his new companions.
"You won't get cell reception out here," he said. "Do you have any idea where you are?"
pianotheme: Noticing him for the first time, an accomplishment only made possible by their redundant bear-shielding shield that could only be broken by the bear addressing them in gruff tones. The fat girl who looked like she always cried nodded in acknowledgment at the great big hulk of a man with boobs that rivaled Pam Anderson's.
"If I didn't know better, I'd say Hell. But I do know better, so that's moot. So, Rambo, why don't you enlighten us?"
The girl's handsome older brother wrinkled his landing strip of a forehead and passively patted the air, as if he was trying to soothe a wild animal that was about to eat them. But Chris had abstained from meat as a precautionary measure. Wild cow disease was still a concern, right?
"Please, it's important that we get back to the city right away. Can you point us in the right direction?"
elvenpath: "City?" Chris asked. "What city? The only way to get around in these parts is to be able to tackle the terrain."
When the mismatched siblings stared at him as though he'd just told them that he believed in unicorns (well... he did, but that was a completely different point all together), he decided to expand. Figuratively, anyway. The fact of the matter was that if Chris got any bigger physically, he'd probably end up throwing the gravitational pull of the earth out of whack.
"You're in boulder-punching territory now," he said.
The fat girl's eyebrows shot up in disbelief at his words. Chris had seen the look before. Particularly on Leon's stupid fucking face at McDonald's when the kid behind the counter told him that they no longer served the McRib. And-- hey, wait a minute. That girl had an Adam's Apple. Oh, goddamn it. It wasn't the first time Chris had made that mistake. At least this time the guy still had all of his clothes on before he figured it out.
"We're in what territory?" she-- HE-- the short one asked, voice nearly drowning in befuddlement.
pianotheme: "Boulder-punching territory," Chris repeated, digging around the nearby foliage for a rock big enough to include in an example. He eventually found one that towered over even the littlest giant with bad hair. Chris volleyed it into the air and punched it with just a fraction of his strength as it fell back down, sending the boulder soaring through the jungle, halving trees and completely annihilating the innocent creatures that called the jungle home. Chris made a mental note to hold a candlelight vigil for them in private later.
The two companions stared in abject amazement at Chris' inhuman and freakish skills. Sammy, a fellow freak, felt his heart flutter in his chest. But before either of them had time to give Chris his due asspats, a figure appeared in the boulder-sized hole where forest once stood. A man of medium-build and striking blue eyes, inadvisedly wearing a trench coat in Africa's oppressive heat.
elvenpath: The man in question definitely appeared younger than the other three already in the picture, and possibly twice as cocky. His coat was gray and his hair was blonde, and for some reason he wasn't wearing a shirt beneath his extremely gay-looking blue vest that shown beneath his coat. He sauntered-- no, swayed-- no, sashayed-- no, strutted towards the other three men, holding some long, phallic looking blade in his hand that for some reason had a gun handle for a hilt.
Suddenly, there was a feeling amongst Chris and the two brothers that they were all on the same side. This newcomer was the opposition. Everything about him screamed "I'M A GIGANTIC DICK." Though not in the good way. That was just the way Seifer Almasy operated.
"Which one of you morons is throwing around earth magic like it's a toy?" he demanded as he approached.
pianotheme: Chris, Sam and Dean exchanged perplexed, bemused and slightly nauseous looks at the loud-mouthed newcomer who regarded them with a haughty gaze in turn.
"I don't like to repeat myself," Seifer drawled, propping his gunblade on his shoulder like he was some kind of bad ass or something. I mean, give me a break.
Finally, and perhaps inevitably, Dean piped up. "No magic here, Harry Potter; and unless you know a way out of here, why don't you turn tail and go back where you came from?"
elvenpath: Though, maybe there was some magic in the air. Because the second Dean opened his big fat fucking fat fat mouth about there not being magic, something strange happened. Something very strange. And the more strange things that began to happen, the more Chris started to feel sick. Why couldn't he just punch boulders and shoot black people in the face in peace? There always had to be SOMETHING getting in his way. Jill gets kidnapped, or Wesker tries to tentacle rape him, or Leon wanders away and gets lost because he can't take his eyes off of a set of boobs for five fucking seconds.
This time was something completely different, though. The jungle around them had vanished, as well as the heat. They were inside somewhere. Somewhere weird. Somewhere extremely fucking stupid-looking, too. Like someone had a really bad acid trip and started stealing things off of the walls of Applebee's, then took everything home and nailed it to the walls and the ceiling in a cock-eyed kind of way.
Fortunately, Sam seemed to know where they were.
"Wait a minute, this is..." he started, growing angrier and angrier with every word he said. Chris vaguely wondered if mooses (moose's? moose? moosi?) were prone to raging outbursts and charging at people, but then he remembered that his bear-like instincts would be able to handle it. Bear vs moose, duh, clear winner there. "This is the Brauer County Mystery Spot."
"Gabriel," Dean spat.
pianotheme: Right away, Dean and Sam set about tearing the place apart, yelling and threatening Gabriel to show himself. Chris was on the verge of scolding them about destroying other people's property, but decided instead to join in the fun, throwing himself bodily at furniture because that's how Redfields hug.
Seifer looked disgusted at the events unfolding before him and wandered off to find Squall and tease him about his latent homosexuality until he cried. Shit was SO cash.
Their gleeful destruction didn't go unnoticed for very long. A man with lank black hair and a rumpled suit burst through a door, looking around with what was meant to be wild-eyed desperation, but since he was such a terrible actor it came off unforgivably cheesy.
"Oh, hi!" he began in a thick European accent, "I ahm luhking for mai fiancé Lisa. She's verah brootiful and sexy. Hahve you seen hur?"
elvenpath: From the opposite side of the room, a disembodied voice shouted, "The Room?! I love that movie!"
pianotheme: The European man paused in his incoherent ramblings to laugh for no reason whatsoever, and Chris's blood positively boiled at the thought that he could possibly be French. Maybe half-French, but God help him.
Then, without another word, the black-haired man departed, closing the door behind him. He was safe from Chris's xenophobic and uncontrollable blood lust. For now.
By this time, Dean was using Sam like a battering ram, driving his head through the walls in case Gabriel was smirkingly hiding in the insulation, that jerk! Sam, who's head was made of 70% alchemist stone, didn't feel anything and even silently contemplated what to have for dinner once this whole mess was over.
After they thoroughly destroyed the walls, the Winchesters stood back and gaped at who they found instead. Not Gabriel, but someone far worse.
elvenpath: It was Castiel, though not in any state that they'd ever seen him in before. He'd abandoned the Holy Tax Accountant garb that had long overstayed its welcome (and most likely smelled like blood and feces at this point) in favor of something a bit
more
sassy.
Sam was awestruck immediately, as though the sassiness of Castiel's new look and demeanor was somehow resonating somewhere deep within his soul. After all, it wouldn't be the first time that Sam's soul had been brutally taken, raped, and otherwise violated by a supernatural being with immense strength. Dean, upon seeing what was to come, took a few hesitant steps back until he stood at Chris's side. It was for protection, maybe. But could a boomer really find refuge behind a bear? Chris merely gave him a sidelong glance of "is this niggaguy serious?" before turning his attention back to Sam and Cas.
From seemingly nowhere, music started. Bad music. No, good music, actually. Fantastic music. 80's music. And before Chris and Dean's very eyes, Sam Winchester and Castiel began to dance in the most sassy way imaginable.
pianotheme: Castiel, being the smaller of the two in terms of stature, build and forehead, was swept up in Sam's powerful arms and held close to his chest. Close enough to enjoy the sound of his heart beating, which Castiel did to the fullest, his ear pressed to Sam's chest and a peaceful smile on his face. They twirled, leapt and pretty much nanced about like a couple of fairies until the music swelled and they captured each other's mouths in a searing kiss that would most assuredly have the obese and chronically untouched housewives in the audience swoon.
Chris and Dean could only watch in stunned silence, feeling bile rise in their throats as the angel and the younger Winchester pawed at one another. Chris gulped loudly as Sam divested Cas of his shirt and nudged Dean in the arm, thinking he had nothing to lose at this point.
"Wanna fuck?"
THE END...?