09x02 - Gimme a Bullet - Part Three: Called the Play
Episode number: 09x02 of Season 9 Fan Fiction (S9FF)
Title: Gimme a Bullet
Subtitle: Called the Play
Author: dracox-serdriel
Word count: 2,107
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: language, violence
Deputy Samuel Hamilton saw the two FBI Agents approach. They caught his attention because they rolled up in an Impala, which didn't seem exactly government-issued.
"Gentlemen," Hamilton said as he stopped them.
"This is Agent Colwell," Dean pointed to Sam. "I'm Agent Ward."
"Ah, I'm Deputy Hamilton, we're just clearing out now, actually. Scene's all yours."
"Thanks."
Despite letting them have the scene, the deputy followed them through the door. "We found the murder weapon on the table right there," he said. "Damndest thing, it's a fourteenth century katana. Beautiful sword."
"You know a lot about these, uh, katana?" Dean asked.
"I'm something of a sword enthusiast."
"Is this just like you found it?" Sam asked, pointing to the open package on the table.
"Uh, yeah, I think."
"Any idea what was in the box? Maybe the sword?" Dean asked.
The deputy nearly coughed his laugh was so sharp. "Hell-no! No one in their right mind would pack such a valuable item like that!"
"Well, okay. Thank you for you help," Sam said.
Hamilton read between the lines and bowed out. "I'll be at the station," he said as he left.
As soon as he was out of earshot, Sam started looking for hex bags, and Dean scanned with the EMF Reader.
"Nothing," Dean muttered.
His phone rang.
Sam didn't bother hiding his expression as Dean picked up and said, "Cas, yeah, we're at the crime scene."
Returning fruitlessly from his search of the house, Sam turned to the package on the table. It had no return address.
"Suspicious," Sam said, forgetting Dean was on the phone.
"I'll call back when we know something, okay?" Dean said into the phone before hanging up.
"No hex bags or anything witchy."
"No EMF."
"So... nothing."
"Maybe the sword... thingie is a cursed object," Dean suggested.
The postmark on the box distracted Sam. "Do you have the list that Garth gave us?" he asked.
"Great listening," Dean said as he pulled out the paper and handed it to his brother. "Got something?"
"Jamestown, New York."
"Sounds like a blast."
"No, Dean, this package was shipped from there, and according to this list, that's where the first murder took place."
"Are you thinking, what, maybe someone sent the cursed object here?" Dean asked.
"I don't know."
"Okay," Dean started. "Well, I say we grab that katana and box it up in some heavy duty tupperware and then haul ass to Jamestown. Sound good?"
"Dunno, maybe you should run it by Cas."
"Don't even go there, douchebag."
Dean hated doing research on the computer, but Sam made a valid point about pulling off the swap. Shane, the overly flirty coroner, was at the police station, and she'd definitely draw attention to Dean's presence as soon as he walked in. So, reluctantly, Dean purchased a katana-like object at a local pawnshop and handed it off to his brother, who ducked into the police station and headed for the evidence room with the strongest hex box they could wrangle in two hours.
Luckily, the character wasn't difficult to find because it wasn't some ancient variation or obscure dialect. It was a modern variation of the word "enemy" in Japanese. Dean felt annoyed it took him twenty minutes to pull up this information because Sam could've found it in five.
Before he could finish his thought, the car trunk opened. He looked up and saw Sam drop the hex box in.
Two hours on the road had both Sam and Dean scratching their heads.
"Okay, so maybe it is witchcraft, or a curse, and the card is the targeting mechanism," Sam suggested. "It could be something to do with Japanese tradition, but I've never read anything about that."
"Cursed objects usually work on whoever touches them, right?" Dean asked. "Maybe the card is just a message from the killer, you know, a 'Screw you asshole, I'm too good to kill you in person?'"
Sam's phone rang. "Agent Colwell."
Dean loved to drive, but waiting on information from Sam grated his nerves.
"I see, that's definitely not a sword," he said. He listened for another minute or so before he replied, "One more question. Did the victim receive any packages on or around the day he died? ...Really, could you check the postmark on that? ...Thank you."
He hung up.
"Good news, bad news," he said to Dean.
"Dealer's choice."
"The good news is that the vic in Maryland also received a package from Jamestown, so we're on the right track."
"But?"
"The vic wasn't cut up with a sword. The weapon found at the crime scene was actually a very old fan."
Dean snorted. "Sorry, a dude was killed by a fan? I mean, not spinning blades of doom fan but like, old hand-waving fan?"
"From the description, it sounds like a folding fan used by soldiers."
"Come again?"
"I think it's called a tessen, but I'd have to look it up to be sure. They're made of iron, and people would carry them because they looked harmless, but they aren't. They could be used to disarm enemies - "
" - and kill people?"
"Dean, the iron bars that hold the far together have sharp tips, the guy was slashed apart with it."
"I guess that'd do it."
"And that's not all."
"It's not?"
"The weapon went missing from the evidence room today."
That brought a few moments of silence.
"You think Garth maybe put another hunter on this? Or one picked up the trail?" Dean suggested.
"I guess it's possible, but the guy who just called didn't mention talking to any other feds or anything."
"So, we've got possible witch. Possible cursed object. Or both, maybe. We've got five dead people, at least two weapons... one we took, another someone else took..." Dean realized summarizing was just confusing him, so he ended with, "What the hell?"
Sam shook his head before he picked up his phone.
"Calling Garth?" Dean asked.
"No, the other stations that have one of these murders. See if they identified a murder weapon and if it went poof overnight mysteriously."
Jamestown, New York. The confusion didn't end with the body in Jamestown. The victim had penetrating wounds through her heart and both eyes.
"Done with a Jutte," the coroner explained. He reminded Dean of Garth, weedy and tall and overly excited. "It's a specialized weapon - "
"From Japan?" Sam prompted.
"Yeah, actually, it is. The weapon's an old one, too," he said. "Gotta be from the early seventeen hundreds, great condition. Too bad it'll be locked away in evidence forever now."
"What do we know about the vic?" Dean asked.
"Her ID says her name is Amanda Rivers," the coroner replied. "But it's a fake. We booked her under Jane Doe."
"How did you know it was a fake name?"
"Well, Agent Ward, Amanda Rivers is five three and one hundred twenty pounds, according to the DMV."
They all instinctively looked at the woman on the table. She was five five and stacked.
"There's no way she only weighs a buck twenty," Dean commented.
"No, but the picture's a close enough match... when the police went to give notice, apparently she was there," the coroner laughed. When the brothers shot him quizzical looks, he replied, "Morbid humor. It grows on you."
"Stolen identity... what else do we know about her?"
"Dunno, you should check the file."
"Thanks," Sam said, giving enough edge to his voice for the coroner to get the point and leave.
"Seriously, a freaking jutte? An iron fan? What the hell, Sammy?"
Sam had opened the file and began speed-reading.
"What?" Dean demanded.
"She was found in an alley, but there's no mention of her having anything like that card with the character on it."
"So not only does this chick not have a real name, she also breaks the only connection we have. Awesome."
"Yeah, but all the packages do trace back here, and she's a good place to start. The only place to start."
"What, like she's the freaking outbreak monkey but with cursed Japanese weapons?" Dean snarked.
"Yeah, that's what I'm thinking."
Sometimes his brother baffled him. For someone so smart, he sure said a lot of dumb things. "Okay, then what do you suggest?"
"We need to figure out what she was doing in town with a stolen identity. So, step one, find where she was staying."
They hit up half the motels and hotels in the area before finding where fake Amanda Rivers had a room.
"Yeah," the buck-tooth old clerk said. "She wuz in hare... dunno, 'bout a week. Paid for za week up ahead'o time."
"She still checked in?" Dean asked.
"Technically, no, but hasn't checked out."
"So her room is still in tact?"
"Uh, yuh, zatz what I just zaid."
"We're going to need the key, then," Sam said, holding up his badge.
Unfortunately, her room was less than telling. The safe wasn't used. The bed was made. None of the drawers were used. The closet was empty.
"Enlightening," Dean muttered as he came up empty on the bathroom check.
"She stole an identity, so let's assume she was doing something illegal here. Where would you or I put something we needed to stash if we didn't want anyone to find?"
"In the car."
"If we had to leave it in the room."
"Uh, I guess... tucked into a wall or in the bed frame?"
Every suggestion proved a dead end until Dean checked the ceiling, which was made of fire-safe foam tiles. He moved one and looked in to see a bag tucked away.
"Awesome."
Grappling hook. Ropes. Lock picks. Alarm disablers. Gloves, mask, the whole nine... all heavy duty, all -
"Professional," Sam said. "We're looking at a professional thief here, Dean."
"Why the hell would a thief steal - "
" - she was hired."
It wasn't a question. Sam pulled out a chunk of cash, at least five thousand dollars.
"Bonus," Dean said, pocketing it. "And maybe not. Maybe she fenced something before being kabobed."
"I guess."
"Well, if she did steal them, she probably got it from around here, right? Let's see if anyone reported some ancient crap missing," Dean said happily.
No reported break-ins. Nothing reported stolen. Dead ends all around. That was the only way Dean allowed his younger brother to drag him to museums and antique shops all over the area.
The Baldwin Antique Shop wasn't the place, but the young woman on staff seemed wary to Sam. She was a little off-put by the questions they ran by her.
"We're looking into some stolen property," said Sam, showing his badge. "Agent Colwell."
"I'm Sarah," she said. "You think something was stolen?"
"We know," Dean said, showing his ID. "And it's all old weaponry from Japan."
"Okay, how can I help?"
"Do you know of anyone who may collect or have weapons like a fourteenth century katana? Tessen, jutte, kanabo, sasumata?" Sam rattled these off, watching her expression.
It was subtle, but she swallowed hard as he mentioned the katana.
"Where did these things go missing?" she asked.
"Evidence rooms from all over the country," Dean said nonchalantly.
Sarah pointed to a weapons rack in the back of the store. "Those are the weapons we have here. To be honest, we don't keep anything that old here. If we did, I'm guessing it would go really fast. A lot of people collect around here."
Dean went to inspect the weapons in question.
"Sarah," Sam started. "We know the weapons were mailed out from Jamestown, and we know the thief that stole at least one of them is now in the morgue."
She looked down and shook her head. "That's awful - "
"And we have the katana," Sam interjected.
"I thought you said it went missing from evidence?"
"We wanted to make sure that didn't happen again," Sam replied. "Look, I can tell you know something, and all we want the killing to stop."
"I don't understand," she said quickly. "I thought you were talking about - "
" - people are dying, Sarah. And with every body, an ancient weapon mailed from Jamestown. Tell me what you know."
She looked scared and trapped. She bit her lip hard enough to draw blood.
Finally, she replied, "My cousin, Anna Lang. She and her brother have a collection like you described. They told me someone broke in, hijacked some of the collection. They've been trying to hunt it down, but neither one of them would hurt anyone. So whatever you think is going on, it's not them, okay? It's not - "
"I need an address," Sam interrupted.
<<< Previous:
Part Three: Called the Play
Next: >>>
Part Four: Make Believe It's You
Episode 09x02 Gimme a Bullet
Primary Post: Season 9 Fan Fiction (S9FF)
Title: Gimme a Bullet
Subtitle: Called the Play
Author: dracox-serdriel
Word count: 2,107
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: language, violence
Deputy Samuel Hamilton saw the two FBI Agents approach. They caught his attention because they rolled up in an Impala, which didn't seem exactly government-issued.
"Gentlemen," Hamilton said as he stopped them.
"This is Agent Colwell," Dean pointed to Sam. "I'm Agent Ward."
"Ah, I'm Deputy Hamilton, we're just clearing out now, actually. Scene's all yours."
"Thanks."
Despite letting them have the scene, the deputy followed them through the door. "We found the murder weapon on the table right there," he said. "Damndest thing, it's a fourteenth century katana. Beautiful sword."
"You know a lot about these, uh, katana?" Dean asked.
"I'm something of a sword enthusiast."
"Is this just like you found it?" Sam asked, pointing to the open package on the table.
"Uh, yeah, I think."
"Any idea what was in the box? Maybe the sword?" Dean asked.
The deputy nearly coughed his laugh was so sharp. "Hell-no! No one in their right mind would pack such a valuable item like that!"
"Well, okay. Thank you for you help," Sam said.
Hamilton read between the lines and bowed out. "I'll be at the station," he said as he left.
As soon as he was out of earshot, Sam started looking for hex bags, and Dean scanned with the EMF Reader.
"Nothing," Dean muttered.
His phone rang.
Sam didn't bother hiding his expression as Dean picked up and said, "Cas, yeah, we're at the crime scene."
Returning fruitlessly from his search of the house, Sam turned to the package on the table. It had no return address.
"Suspicious," Sam said, forgetting Dean was on the phone.
"I'll call back when we know something, okay?" Dean said into the phone before hanging up.
"No hex bags or anything witchy."
"No EMF."
"So... nothing."
"Maybe the sword... thingie is a cursed object," Dean suggested.
The postmark on the box distracted Sam. "Do you have the list that Garth gave us?" he asked.
"Great listening," Dean said as he pulled out the paper and handed it to his brother. "Got something?"
"Jamestown, New York."
"Sounds like a blast."
"No, Dean, this package was shipped from there, and according to this list, that's where the first murder took place."
"Are you thinking, what, maybe someone sent the cursed object here?" Dean asked.
"I don't know."
"Okay," Dean started. "Well, I say we grab that katana and box it up in some heavy duty tupperware and then haul ass to Jamestown. Sound good?"
"Dunno, maybe you should run it by Cas."
"Don't even go there, douchebag."
Dean hated doing research on the computer, but Sam made a valid point about pulling off the swap. Shane, the overly flirty coroner, was at the police station, and she'd definitely draw attention to Dean's presence as soon as he walked in. So, reluctantly, Dean purchased a katana-like object at a local pawnshop and handed it off to his brother, who ducked into the police station and headed for the evidence room with the strongest hex box they could wrangle in two hours.
Luckily, the character wasn't difficult to find because it wasn't some ancient variation or obscure dialect. It was a modern variation of the word "enemy" in Japanese. Dean felt annoyed it took him twenty minutes to pull up this information because Sam could've found it in five.
Before he could finish his thought, the car trunk opened. He looked up and saw Sam drop the hex box in.
Two hours on the road had both Sam and Dean scratching their heads.
"Okay, so maybe it is witchcraft, or a curse, and the card is the targeting mechanism," Sam suggested. "It could be something to do with Japanese tradition, but I've never read anything about that."
"Cursed objects usually work on whoever touches them, right?" Dean asked. "Maybe the card is just a message from the killer, you know, a 'Screw you asshole, I'm too good to kill you in person?'"
Sam's phone rang. "Agent Colwell."
Dean loved to drive, but waiting on information from Sam grated his nerves.
"I see, that's definitely not a sword," he said. He listened for another minute or so before he replied, "One more question. Did the victim receive any packages on or around the day he died? ...Really, could you check the postmark on that? ...Thank you."
He hung up.
"Good news, bad news," he said to Dean.
"Dealer's choice."
"The good news is that the vic in Maryland also received a package from Jamestown, so we're on the right track."
"But?"
"The vic wasn't cut up with a sword. The weapon found at the crime scene was actually a very old fan."
Dean snorted. "Sorry, a dude was killed by a fan? I mean, not spinning blades of doom fan but like, old hand-waving fan?"
"From the description, it sounds like a folding fan used by soldiers."
"Come again?"
"I think it's called a tessen, but I'd have to look it up to be sure. They're made of iron, and people would carry them because they looked harmless, but they aren't. They could be used to disarm enemies - "
" - and kill people?"
"Dean, the iron bars that hold the far together have sharp tips, the guy was slashed apart with it."
"I guess that'd do it."
"And that's not all."
"It's not?"
"The weapon went missing from the evidence room today."
That brought a few moments of silence.
"You think Garth maybe put another hunter on this? Or one picked up the trail?" Dean suggested.
"I guess it's possible, but the guy who just called didn't mention talking to any other feds or anything."
"So, we've got possible witch. Possible cursed object. Or both, maybe. We've got five dead people, at least two weapons... one we took, another someone else took..." Dean realized summarizing was just confusing him, so he ended with, "What the hell?"
Sam shook his head before he picked up his phone.
"Calling Garth?" Dean asked.
"No, the other stations that have one of these murders. See if they identified a murder weapon and if it went poof overnight mysteriously."
Jamestown, New York. The confusion didn't end with the body in Jamestown. The victim had penetrating wounds through her heart and both eyes.
"Done with a Jutte," the coroner explained. He reminded Dean of Garth, weedy and tall and overly excited. "It's a specialized weapon - "
"From Japan?" Sam prompted.
"Yeah, actually, it is. The weapon's an old one, too," he said. "Gotta be from the early seventeen hundreds, great condition. Too bad it'll be locked away in evidence forever now."
"What do we know about the vic?" Dean asked.
"Her ID says her name is Amanda Rivers," the coroner replied. "But it's a fake. We booked her under Jane Doe."
"How did you know it was a fake name?"
"Well, Agent Ward, Amanda Rivers is five three and one hundred twenty pounds, according to the DMV."
They all instinctively looked at the woman on the table. She was five five and stacked.
"There's no way she only weighs a buck twenty," Dean commented.
"No, but the picture's a close enough match... when the police went to give notice, apparently she was there," the coroner laughed. When the brothers shot him quizzical looks, he replied, "Morbid humor. It grows on you."
"Stolen identity... what else do we know about her?"
"Dunno, you should check the file."
"Thanks," Sam said, giving enough edge to his voice for the coroner to get the point and leave.
"Seriously, a freaking jutte? An iron fan? What the hell, Sammy?"
Sam had opened the file and began speed-reading.
"What?" Dean demanded.
"She was found in an alley, but there's no mention of her having anything like that card with the character on it."
"So not only does this chick not have a real name, she also breaks the only connection we have. Awesome."
"Yeah, but all the packages do trace back here, and she's a good place to start. The only place to start."
"What, like she's the freaking outbreak monkey but with cursed Japanese weapons?" Dean snarked.
"Yeah, that's what I'm thinking."
Sometimes his brother baffled him. For someone so smart, he sure said a lot of dumb things. "Okay, then what do you suggest?"
"We need to figure out what she was doing in town with a stolen identity. So, step one, find where she was staying."
They hit up half the motels and hotels in the area before finding where fake Amanda Rivers had a room.
"Yeah," the buck-tooth old clerk said. "She wuz in hare... dunno, 'bout a week. Paid for za week up ahead'o time."
"She still checked in?" Dean asked.
"Technically, no, but hasn't checked out."
"So her room is still in tact?"
"Uh, yuh, zatz what I just zaid."
"We're going to need the key, then," Sam said, holding up his badge.
Unfortunately, her room was less than telling. The safe wasn't used. The bed was made. None of the drawers were used. The closet was empty.
"Enlightening," Dean muttered as he came up empty on the bathroom check.
"She stole an identity, so let's assume she was doing something illegal here. Where would you or I put something we needed to stash if we didn't want anyone to find?"
"In the car."
"If we had to leave it in the room."
"Uh, I guess... tucked into a wall or in the bed frame?"
Every suggestion proved a dead end until Dean checked the ceiling, which was made of fire-safe foam tiles. He moved one and looked in to see a bag tucked away.
"Awesome."
Grappling hook. Ropes. Lock picks. Alarm disablers. Gloves, mask, the whole nine... all heavy duty, all -
"Professional," Sam said. "We're looking at a professional thief here, Dean."
"Why the hell would a thief steal - "
" - she was hired."
It wasn't a question. Sam pulled out a chunk of cash, at least five thousand dollars.
"Bonus," Dean said, pocketing it. "And maybe not. Maybe she fenced something before being kabobed."
"I guess."
"Well, if she did steal them, she probably got it from around here, right? Let's see if anyone reported some ancient crap missing," Dean said happily.
No reported break-ins. Nothing reported stolen. Dead ends all around. That was the only way Dean allowed his younger brother to drag him to museums and antique shops all over the area.
The Baldwin Antique Shop wasn't the place, but the young woman on staff seemed wary to Sam. She was a little off-put by the questions they ran by her.
"We're looking into some stolen property," said Sam, showing his badge. "Agent Colwell."
"I'm Sarah," she said. "You think something was stolen?"
"We know," Dean said, showing his ID. "And it's all old weaponry from Japan."
"Okay, how can I help?"
"Do you know of anyone who may collect or have weapons like a fourteenth century katana? Tessen, jutte, kanabo, sasumata?" Sam rattled these off, watching her expression.
It was subtle, but she swallowed hard as he mentioned the katana.
"Where did these things go missing?" she asked.
"Evidence rooms from all over the country," Dean said nonchalantly.
Sarah pointed to a weapons rack in the back of the store. "Those are the weapons we have here. To be honest, we don't keep anything that old here. If we did, I'm guessing it would go really fast. A lot of people collect around here."
Dean went to inspect the weapons in question.
"Sarah," Sam started. "We know the weapons were mailed out from Jamestown, and we know the thief that stole at least one of them is now in the morgue."
She looked down and shook her head. "That's awful - "
"And we have the katana," Sam interjected.
"I thought you said it went missing from evidence?"
"We wanted to make sure that didn't happen again," Sam replied. "Look, I can tell you know something, and all we want the killing to stop."
"I don't understand," she said quickly. "I thought you were talking about - "
" - people are dying, Sarah. And with every body, an ancient weapon mailed from Jamestown. Tell me what you know."
She looked scared and trapped. She bit her lip hard enough to draw blood.
Finally, she replied, "My cousin, Anna Lang. She and her brother have a collection like you described. They told me someone broke in, hijacked some of the collection. They've been trying to hunt it down, but neither one of them would hurt anyone. So whatever you think is going on, it's not them, okay? It's not - "
"I need an address," Sam interrupted.
<<< Previous:
Part Three: Called the Play
Next: >>>
Part Four: Make Believe It's You
Episode 09x02 Gimme a Bullet
Primary Post: Season 9 Fan Fiction (S9FF)