07: [Action] Break on Through (To The Other Side)
As he stands there, staring, Dean Winchester wonders why he's never noticed this door before. It's not anything normal, by any stretch - it's just a huge door; tall, foreboding, made of something that looks like solid oak. He hasn't touched it yet, he's simply been waiting. Waiting for it to open, waiting for someone to go in or come out.
It ( Read more... )
It ( Read more... )
For the moment he stands a distance away from the door, hands in the pockets of his hakama as he looks at the front hall with a bored expression.]
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Say please~
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The fingers on his free hand twitch, and he seriously considers reaching for his gun. It took a fuck-long time to get the comm unit to double as a ghost-hunting magnet and he doesn't want to make another.
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[He starts closing his hand around the EMF, putting pressure on it to slowly break it.]
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"Put it down."
At point-blank range, there's no way he could possibly miss. With all these people around, though, Dean isn't exactly sure what kinda rep he wants as 'the guy who shot someone else in the face.'
"Yeah, you think you're real funny now, screwin' around with shit you don't understand." A tight smile on his face, Dean shakes his head. "Just give it back and I'll stop thinkin' about giving you another hole to breathe through."
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[With a feral grin the hollow uses his free hand to grab Dean's wrist and force it up, moving close enough to get right in the other's face. Whatever personal space one thought he had is now gone.]
Take yer human toys and fuck off. I might decide to eat ya now rather than save ya for later.
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Dean grits his teeth and grunts as his arm is jerked upwards, and the hunter glares daggers at the yellow-eyed-
Holy fuck.
The Yellow-Eyed Demon.
He hadn't noticed until he was this close, inches away, from this spiky-haired kid with yellow eyes. He doesn't talk like the demon that he and his brother had spent more than a year hunting, more than ten years for his father...but he's here. He's back. And thanks to a past full of hauntings by this singular asshole Dean couldn't care less whether or not the man gripping his forearm is really the demon Azazel.
He's just pissed.
"Azazel," He growls darkly, not realizing his mistake. "You sonuvabitch, I killed you. Eat me?" Dean's laughter is cutting and bitter. "Yeah, that's rich. Why don't you let me go so I can find another way to kill you? Again."
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[What the fuck? Last thing the hollow checked he didn't have a name, let alone something weird like Azazel of all things. And killing? Maybe Dean's brain finally broke and he went insane. This was the first time he's run into the human!
After looking confused for a brief moment he grins and starts cackling. This was too much but he doesn't let go. He still wants to have some fun with this one; insane or not.]
Who the fuck is this Azazel bastard yer goin' on about?
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For a split second there's something skin to complete, utter confusion in the other's goddamn smug yellow eyes. It's not a moment long enough for Dean to care, particularly when the asshole starts running his mouth again.
Jesus, he's gonna rip the guy's lungs out, that laugh is so irritating.
But his words give Dean pause.
"...what the fu-? You're shitting me, right? You know damn well, ya ass-ugly douchebag! Killed mom, then dad, then fucked around with my brother's head to open your stupid Gate to Hell!"
He's practically spitting, he's so mad. Risking the strain to his arm, Dean wrenches them downward enough to distract the other's attention before butting heads with the other, hard.
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Sounds like fun!
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"You sorry sonuvabitch, you're gonna be lucky if you get outta here breathing after fucking up my comm!"
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[The hollow giggles--can't forget that the other is taking up his door time--as he uses his flash step ability to increase his speed, looking like he disappears before he stops behind the other and aims a kick at Dean's back.]
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"Fuc-"
He can hardly get the curse out of his mouth before a well-place foot jabs him in the lower back and he stumbles to the ground on his hands and knees, left palm digging into the sharp remains of his EMF. The metal cuts deep and Dean can smell the coppery tang of blood.
"Sonuvabitch!"
Back still screaming in protest, Dean rolls over and fumbles for his gun, gritting his teeth and cocking it. He takes aim at the fucker's shoulder and pulls the trigger.
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Aw look, ain'tcha so proud? Ya got me.
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"Stop flash-dancing, Jennifer Beals," Dean growls, dragging the back of his hand over his lower lip and looking down at it. Crimson stained his skin.
This thing could kill him.
"What the fuck are you?!" Spitting blood onto the floor and dragging himself to his knees, Desert Eagle cocked and aimed at the bitch's head, Dean's mouth twists in a snarl.
He certainly isn't the type to give up easily.
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