Supernatural: Mythbusters' Christmas Special
Supernatural: Mythbusters' Christmas Special
Genre: RPF, casefic
Pairing: none
Fandom(s): Supernatural, Mythbusters
Rating: R for language and violence
Disclaimer: Fiction, fiction, and a side of C4.
Summary: Jamie sends his partner-in-crime, Adam, to do some shopping for their television series. What he comes back with, though, is more appropriate for Friday the Thirteenth movie than a show on the Discovery Channel.
Author's Note: Bah Humbug!
December 2, 2010
San Francisco, California
Adam couldn’t believe he was going to return to M5 empty-handed. That had never happened before, as he was an avid junk hunter and usually lucked out whenever he swooped into a flea market.
Nevertheless, the truth could not be denied. After three hours of scouring through the Annual Christmas Market, the loquacious half of the Mythbusters television series had nothing to show for his troubles save for more freckles than he’d started out with in the morning.
He wondered how much ribbing he was going to get from his coworkers for his failures. If his suspicions were correct, M5 was going to be an interesting workplace for the rest of December.
I bet Jamie’s going to make some terrible device that’ll holler out my failures every morning I come to work, especially since I promised him a bounty, Adam thought in slight dismay. Well, that’s what you get for working in special effects.
In wonder, Adam looked up at the sun. It was the week after Thanksgiving, and for San Francisco the sun had become a rare sight since October. But this entire week, it was hanging in the sky, seemingly jubilant in its return.
Adam was leaving the main tent when he saw what had to be the most hideous Christmas display he’d ever come across.
“Holy shit,” he said loudly, not caring if anyone heard him. With quick strides, Adam marched over to the table. Eager fingers danced over the figurines on display as he tried to decide which ones to check out first.
“Ugly as sin, aren’t they?” the woman mischievously said to him from her chair behind the table.
Adam gave a chagrined smile. “You heard me.”
“You and just about everyone else who walked by,” she said. “Name’s Emily. And this here is my contribution to mankind.”
Adam lifted an ornament that had a miniature deer head with an evergreen wreath around its neck. That in it of itself wasn’t anything strange. But this deer head was covered with what felt like genuine pelt and the beady black eyes seemed a little too real for Adam.
“Is this a hobby of yours?” he asked weakly.
Emily laughed gaily. “No, this shit belonged to my psycho brother who passed away a year ago. His attorney finally released all his stuff. Unfortunately for me, this is my share of the inheritance!”
“Sucks to be you,” Adam said promptly.
“Doesn’t it?” Emily leaned back into her chair and sighed. “So, here I am, trying to hawk this junk.”
Adam pointed at a cluster of Christmas elves. “How much for those?”
“Twenty dollars for the whole lot.”
“Done!” Adam poked a curious finger at a small figurine. He didn’t know what kind of material was used to create the hideous thing but its cap was dyed a shade of brilliant red, making it look almost bloody.
And spongy, his mind added gleefully.
Fortunately for Adam and his finger, the deranged Christmas elf was hard as steel. He mentally giggled at his thoughts and pulled out his wallet.
Emily packed the figurines in a plastic bag. “What do you plan to do with them?”
“Blow them up.”
“Sounds like a plan!” Emily replied with a cackle.
Adam grinned and walked away, feeling like a prince for buying a bunch of plastic Christmas elves made by Jason, Michael, and Freddie after a hard night of chugging tequila and smoking some good shit.
Jamie’s going to love this! Adam gloated as he drove back to M5. He could just imagine what kind of mayhem his partner-in-crime could perform on the show using these monstrous elves.
Adam began cheerfully whistling Here Comes Santa Claus as he pulled his Prius out of the flea market’s parking lot and into rush hour traffic.
December 19, 2010
Sparks, Nevada
Dean ate his hamburger; his mutinous face warning away the friendly waitress who, only moments before, thought she was going to get lucky and have a date for the Christmas Eve employee party at the diner.
“It’s not my fault!” Sam protested. “Bobby was the one who passed this case! It’s not like I went looking for it!”
Dean took a deep breath. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve been looking forward to next week? For the first time in my life there’s going to be a beer convention. At Last Vegas.
“Do you know how close to heaven that is? For me?!”
Sam winced as Dean sprayed chewed bits of hamburger and vinegar-coated fries onto his salad bowl. “Like I said,” he replied hotly, “not my fault. If you want to disappoint Bobby, you go right ahead.”
Dean’s mutinous looks turned mulish before surrendering to his brother’s plea. “So, what are we hunting again? Fairies?”
“Actually, yes,” Sam said, fruitlessly trying to hide his surprise that Dean actually listened to him earlier. “They’re belong in the fairy category; some say goblins, some say dwarves.”
“Po-tay-to, Po-ta-to,” Dean said. “What I want to know is: How do we kill the bastards? That’s what’s important.”
“Quoting bible verses harms them enough to slow them down, maybe make them think twice about hunting you.” Sam frowned and leaned closer to read the laptop screen. “But the only way to kill them is to take away their caps or destroy them.”
“Set them on fire?”
“That might work, but the common lore says that drying them up is the tried and true method,” Sam answered. “Either way, the cap itself has to be destroyed somehow, or the blood has to be dried up. So, I’m thinking snatching them away could work too.”
Dean recoiled a little. “That’s disgusting. Should we get some protective gear from the hospital? Just in case?”
Sam shook his head. “I don’t think we have to worry about blood-borne diseases. Whatever happens, we have to move fast. They also have to dye their caps often because if they don’t: they die.”
Dean sat back and crossed his arms. “Okay, so what are they like exactly?”
“Pretty difficult to hunt down, actually,” Sam said. “They’re fast and they also wear spiked boots made of iron.”
“Gives a whole new meaning to ‘steel-tipped’. Can we shoot them?”
“You could try but they’re probably just too fast for us to get a bead on them. Unless they’re too tired to run. If that happens, we can use iron to kill them.”
“So, bullets could slow them down, but we’re going to have to do slice and dice to do any real damage.”
“Yeah,” Sam said, his voice laced with concern.
“Why the weird face?”
“We’re hunting more than one,” Sam answered.
Dean’s eyes narrowed. “How many exactly?”
“Five.”
Dean’s head dropped back onto the plastic booth as a low moan escaped from him.
“Yeah, I know,” Sam said. “We’ve got to be careful here, Dean. Redcaps are pretty much invincible when they’re on top of their form.”
“What do we know about this friendly bunch?”
“They were brought over by a man named Daniel Harbor,” Sam explained. “The guy was seriously bad news from what Bobby found out. He had a nasty habit of consorting with demons and a lot of people died as a result.”
“What happened to him?”
“Bobby thinks the redcaps killed him when he summoned them and I think he’s right,” Sam said. “The police department concluded Harbor took a dive from his eleventh-floor condo, but from what I’ve read, his body has cuts and bruises that don’t match up with wounds that come from the dive.”
“The redcaps drove him to jump,” Dean concluded. “But they made him bleed first so they could use his blood to dye their stupid caps.
“More important question: where the fuck are they now?”
Sam sighed and ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “San Francisco. Bobby managed to find out they were sold few weeks ago at a holiday fair. He couldn’t figure out to whom.”
“So, all we can do is wait until the papers start reporting bizarre deaths?”
“Or a spike in suicide,” Sam added. “Though, around the holidays, that’s pretty damn common.”
Dean finished his coffee. “Let’s hit the road. If these suckers are as messed up as you say they are, bodies should start piling up pretty damn quick.”
Sam gave a terse nod of agreement and packed up his laptop. Dean left a generous tip for the spurned waitress, but that was about all the attention he could afford to waste. They were on a hunt now, and though their targets seemed laughable, both Bobby’s and Sam’s reactions told Dean that it was going to be a tough one.
Las Vegas, Dean mentally sighed. Maybe they’ll make it an annual thing.
December 24, 2010
Jamie loathed to touch the disgusting figurines but he had to if he wanted to scan the blasted things for the computer. Both he and Adam had come up with some fantastic plans to use the ugly objects for future episodes, and during daylight everything seemed fine. But now, Jamie was by himself and the five plastic elves with their hoary grins, and his nerves were singing a little bit too loudly for Jamie to ignore.
And there was also the fact that the little monstrosities were disgusting to touch. In the beginning Adam handled them like any other object, but the longer they sat on the table, the less inclined Adam was to handle them. In fact, earlier in the day Jamie had caught Adam using sticks and a prop cane to push the figures about the table,. Jamie had teased him mercilessly then, but now, he knew exactly why Adam had been so reluctant to handle them.
They’re starting to feel soft, Jamie finally admitted to himself. Like they’re thawing out after a deep freeze.
Jamie narrowed his gaze as he studied the five demented Christmas elves. Whoever made these have some genuine issues. Hopefully, he’s dealing with them far from women, children, and the elderly.
He heard a crash and a burst of laughter from the next room. In a fit of annoyance Jamie cried out, “Hey, cut it out! I’m trying to work here!”
Kari’s apologetic voice piped out, “Sorry! Can’t help it: Tory’s being stupid!”
“As usual!” Grant added. He stuck his head in the doorway. “Need some help?”
Jamie felt genuine fondness for the robotic specialist. “I’m almost done,” he said.
Grant approached the table. Then, without a warning, he picked up one of the figurines and studied it closely. “Ugly little beasts, aren’t they?”
Jamie had to force himself not to show any visible disgust as he watched Grant trace the stitches on the elf’s leather vest. He was even more grateful that Grant didn’t go anywhere near the leather breeches. If the bulge was correct, the goddamn thing was anatomically correct and wasn’t that thirty-one flavors of fucked up? “I can’t figure out why they were made to begin with.”
“Somebody has a bad sense of humor and decided to take it out on the public,” Grant guessed. “At least that’s what I’m hoping.”
Jamie felt a little relieved when Grant put the figurine down. “We’re going to blow up the entire lot. I’m going to consider that my goodwill act for this year.”
“Sounds good,” Grant said. “Tory’s going to pick up dinner, but Kari and I’ll be sticking around. If you need anything, just give us a holler.”
“I’ll do that,” Jamie said. “Hopefully I won’t need to.”
He watched Grant disappear and for a moment felt a sharp desire to ask him to keep stay because the last thing Jamie needed was to be alone with those ugly bastards, all grinning at him with…
Jamie blinked and looked harder. I could’ve sworn their teeth weren’t that big…
But the last thing he wanted to was lean closer to satisfy his curiosity. So, Jamie continued scanning the creepy buggers, wishing the computer worked faster inputting the data into Grant’s computations.
When Adam finally appeared, it took Jamie a great deal not to smile in relief.
“You know, I’m starting to regret buying these things,” Adam said. “I thought they were funny but now I think they’re just … scary. Not funny scary but mean, cold-blooded scary.”
“Well, whatever they are they’re going the way of the dodo in a month,” Jamie said. “They’re the perfect size for the cyclone myth.”
Adam grinned. “Fantastic. And if any survive?”
“We’ll just sink whatever is left in the Bay,” Jamie answered. “Maybe throw one into the whirlpool by the bridge to see what happens.”
“Hee,” Adam gleefully smiled, already imagining what Jamie had in mind. “We could build a miniature boat and nail the fucker onto the deck.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Jamie agreed, improving his mood by just thinking about the destruction of the figurines.
“Fans are going to love it,” Adam said, taking off his coat and hat. He carelessly tossed them onto a chair and rolled up his sleeves. “What’s next?”
Before Jamie answered there was a polite cough from the doorway. He looked up and immediately felt his hackles rise. The two men were complete strangers, and though they tried to look harmless, Jamie knew by experience that they were trouble and half.
“Can we help you?” Adam asked, eyeing them warily.
“Yeah,” the smaller one said. “Name’s Dean. We’re here about … actually those ugly ass things right there.”
Dean approached them and though the smile on his face seemed genuine, his eyes were completely trained on the five demented elves on the table.
“What about them?” Jamie asked.
“It’s a long story, and I’m sure you’ve got something better than to listen to stupid family arguments. The end game is we want to buy those back from you guys.”
Jamie suddenly realized Dean, if that was even his real name, had no idea who he and Adam were. And felt relief trickle through his fear because he honestly relished anonymity whenever it was afforded to him. Like Adam, Jamie enjoyed the perks of being a well-known figure, but unlike Adam he didn’t have the necessary coping mechanism when fame turned sour. He’d been sexually propositioned on numerous occasions and had to actually become belligerent when the offeror wouldn’t take no for an answer.
Then, the big one who was still standing on the doorway blurted out, “Holy shit. You guys are the Mythbusters.”
Whatever Dean was going to say got lost. He turned to his companion with a frown. “What did you say, Sam?”
Sam, the jolly plaid giant, approached them. “These guys - they’re like Mike; they have a very popular show on Discovery.”
Dean looked taken back by the explanation. He turned to Jamie and Adam and said, “Yeah? Sorry, I don’t know the show. Hope you guys aren’t insulted.”
“Not at all,” Adam said, now cautiously eyeing Sam along with Dean. “So, you guys want to buy these things?”
“Yeah, kind of a family situation,” Dean said.
“Your family’s last name isn’t Addams by chance?” Jamie asked.
Sam’s grin broadened while Dean looked even more confused. “No,” Sam answered. “But that’s a good guess. Seriously, we’ll pay good money to take them off your hands. And you’d be doing us a great favor. The last thing we want is to show up empty-handed on our family’s annual Christmas gathering after being told to get these for grandma.”
Adam looked at Jamie who looked back at him.
“What the hell,” Jamie said, the thought of never seeing the ugly things again bringing heartfelt relief.
“How much are you asking for them?”
Before Dean or Sam could answer, Adam let out a yelp and hurled himself back from the group.
“What?!” Jamie barked.
Wordlessly Adam pointed at the table. The three men looked down and gasped in unison. All five figurines had vanished.
Dean’s reaction was immediate if also puzzling: He manhandled Adam onto the table before looking around the floor with Sam.
As he watched them, Jamie felt an obligation to ask them what in hell they were doing, all the while feeling panic rise as he watched Dean and Sam search for the missing Christmas decorations.
Then, to drive the panic in further, all the lights went out and for a moment they were engulfed in near darkness before the backup generators kicked in. With the eerie blue emergency lights and the encroaching night, everything familiar now looked hostile and alien.
Jamie’s nerves were further shredded when Dean and Sam pulled out guns from their jackets.
“Hey!” he shouted. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!”
“Get off the floor!” Dean barked. He looked around the warehouse and saw the mechanical lift in a corner. “Use that!”
Jamie was about to protest when a scream from the other room grabbed his attention. It was Kari.
“Run!” she screamed.
“The shelves! Get on the shelves!” was Grant’s frantic reply.
“Motherfuckers!” Tory yelled.
Then crashing noises emanated from the room.
“I’ll take them!” Sam shouted.
Dean gave a nod and looked around the floors, gingerly lifting things out of the way. Jamie was tempted to give him a swift kick to Dean’s backside before making a break, but before he could make a move the central door slammed down, cutting off the main exit.
“What just happened?” Jamie asked.
“It’s the little fuckers,” Dean promptly answered from his crouching position under a saw table. He looked up and frowned. “Dude, I wasn’t joking when I said to get on high ground. These things will bash your head in and from the looks of it, they’ve got plenty of weapons to use.”
“Look, I don’t know if you didn’t take your meds this morning or what,” Jamie said hotly, “but this isn’t funny.”
“Look out!” Adam yelled, pointing behind Dean.
Jamie cocked his head to see what Adam was looking at and what he saw pooled all his blood around his ankles.
That’s real blood, Jamie realized as he examined the now-animated figurine and the big, fat merry drops falling from its red cap.
Dean turned around and ducked, saving the back of his skull from being bashed open by a metal pipe. The monster gave a howl then a cackle of frustration before trying to hammer Dean into the floor.
“Fuck!” Dean shouted then shot the beast which scrabbled across the floor just like the parasite from the Alien films before disappearing from view.
Adam didn’t bother to watch any more. He scrambled onto the ladder that was attached to the ceiling-high shelving and began frantically climbing. Jamie ran for the lift and got on it before using the automated system to raise the platform to the highest level possible.
Dean jumped on a worktable and looked around. “Whatever you do, don’t let them get your blood! Understand?!”
“Okay,” Jamie managed to squeak out, feeling inordinately proud that he actually vocalized his answer unlike Adam who only managed to give a feeble nod.
Another crashing noise from the room next door grabbed their attention, and Adam wondered how the rest of his friends were faring. Then he prayed that Sam had enough ammunition to kill whatever these monsters were.
Tory looked down at the floor from his ladder. He still couldn’t figure out what the things were. For a moment he thought they were one of Grant’s robots; something his friend built as a prank to scare the shit out of everybody before the holiday break.
But, looking at Grant’s horrified face, Tory accepted the fact that his friend had nothing to do with the bloody mayhem that had erupted in their workshop.
“You okay?” Grant shouted.
Tory looked at Kari and paled even further. She’d managed to stem the blood flow from the bite wounds on her arm, but he knew she was feeling faint.
The stranger who’d burst in was still in the room, kicking away furniture and debris as he methodically hunted down the creatures.
“Who are you?” Grant asked weakly, “And why do you have a gun?”
“Name’s Sam,” the stranger answered. “And we came here to get those things before they came to life.”
“Came to life?” Kari echoed weakly. “Wait a minute - what are those things?”
“The figurines your boss bought last week,” Sam answered. “They’re real and they need blood. So, make sure you don’t bleed onto the floor, no matter what happens.”
“Why not?” Kari asked, now busily trying to bind the wounds with her sweatshirt.
“It’s like chum in the water for sharks,” Sam answered. “They’ll hunt you down the moment they realize you’re bleeding.”
“Well, that’s just crazy,” Grant said. “I don’t know what…”
Tory’s dumbfounded “Holy fuck, what is that?” interrupted Grant who caught a glimpse of what had shocked Tory.
Until that moment, Grant was able to explain away what was happening with plausible, albeit far-fetched, explanations. But, as the hairy, previously-immobile Christmas elf cavorted into view, Grant had to accept the fact that either he went insane in the last three minutes or the figurines Adam had bought had indeed somehow come to life.
The gunshot echoed loudly in the room, but not as loud as the cursing grunts that emanated from the damaged figurine as it scooted under a stack of pressed boards that Jamie was planning to recycle. Grant saw a trickle of red and though he was fervently wishing it were drops of paint, his gut told him the crimson trail was blood.
“Okay, so it can be hurt?” Kari asked, strength returning in her voice alongside anger.
“Not like the way you think. My brother and I came by to get these things before anything bad happened,” the man explained apologetically, as if it was his fault that plastic figurines had somehow magically come to life. “Looks like we came a little too late to the party.”
Tory made a move to climb down from the table but was aborted when Sam shouted, “Don’t move!”
“Why?” Tory asked.
“Because these things need blood and they’ll do just about anything to get it,” Sam explained. “Look, you have to think of them as intelligent, starving piranhas. They’re bloodthirsty and the moment you make a mistake - they’ll swarm over you.”
“So why are you walking around?” Kari asked, also looking around her position, as if considering coming down and joining the hunt.
“Because we hunt these things for a living,” Sam said while cautiously kicking a bucket out of the way.
A flash of red caught his attention and Sam whirled to his left, firing off two shots in neat succession. This, more than anything else, convinced both Kari and Tory to stay on their perches.
A malignant cackle caught all their attention. Unfortunately, due to the cavernous nature of the warehouse, the sound seemed to be coming from everywhere.
“Shit,” Grant hissed. “What can we do?”
“Stay where you are,” Sam answered, not taking his eyes off the floor. “The last thing I need is to worry about you while…”
He leaped, and it was such a swift, unexpected movement that Grant jumped a little as a sympathetic response.
The whistling sound told him that whatever it was, was a near miss.
“Holy shit!” Kari hissed as she craned her neck to the left. “Was that a sword?”
Sam gave a jerky nod. “They’re trying to slice open my Achilles.”
“Nice,” Grant said, fighting down the urge to vomit.
“Definitely not moving,” Kari said, crouching down on her ladder.
Sam peered closer to the cabinet it had disappeared into. Without warning, the redcap burst out, the sword raised high above its head. Sam neatly moved aside as the weapon came down. The blade imbedded itself into a table and became stuck. The redcap was furiously trying to pull it out when Sam put a bullet in the back of its head before kicking off its cap.
The creature dangled from the sword’s handle, its death grip sure and unyielding.
“What’s next?” Jamie asked as he peered over the railing.
“We’re going to need to draw them out,” Dean answered reluctantly. “Got anything?”
“How about babies?” Adam offered.
That made Dean stop in his tracks. “I’m sorry - did you say babies?”
“They’re still there,” Jamie said, pointing up to the second highest shelf and a large plastic container marked ‘BABIES’.
Dean gave it a glance, raised a questioning eyebrow and said, “Okay, that should work.”
Adam nimbly climbed up the shelves and opened the container. He pulled out two life-sized dolls of newborns and shouted, “Catch!”
Dean caught the dolls then neatly jumped onto a table. He scrounged around and pulled out a coil of rope. He tied one around the body the doll and said, “Tell me if you see any movement.”
“Okay,” Adam said, unable to stop from leaning further out to see what Dean would do.
Dean dangled the doll over the edge of the table and swung it about gently, making cooing noises. Jamie stared, horrified and fascinated as Dean slowly toured around the large worktable, dangling the doll as bait.
It was by sheer chance that he chose to glance at Adam. “Above you!” he screamed on top of his lungs.
Adam looked up and swung on an axis like a monkey would do on a vine. The creature was only two feet above him and was madly swinging a hammer at Adam’s head.
Strangely, Adam wasn’t at all afraid as he was too fascinated by what he was seeing. He knew his reaction was purely shock. And that in real life he’d be screaming as he jumped to the ground, but he couldn’t as he attention was riveted to the homicidal Christmas elf currently trying to cave in his skull.
Its blood-red eyes with cat-like pupils fixed on him and seemed to take his answering stare as a challenge. It bared its shark-like rows of teeth and stuck out a forked tongue while making lewd noises.
“You are one ugly motherfucker,” Adam said before dodging another blow. Then a shot rang over Adam’s head and hit the figurine dead center in the forehead. It screeched and fell off its perch, crashing onto the floor with a wet crunchy noise.
And yet, in spite of broken limbs, it tried mightily to crawl to safety.
Dean jumped off the table and landed on the broken figure. Adam thought his boots had to be industrial because the crunching noise told Adam that they were reinforced with steel.
Dean jumped up and down twice before stepping off the pulpy mound and taking its red cap as a trophy.
Adam stared at the indescribable mess. It didn’t exactly look like roadkill but he could definitely identify the matter as organic.
Looks like what happens to a watermelon if it got tossed from a trebuchet.
Dean wiped off his boots on a table leg before jumping back on it. “One down, five to go.”
Jamie realized that the creatures were able to climb so while Dean scoured the floors, he looked above, even at the ceiling just in case they managed to get that far by shimmying around on the pipes.
Dean’s face turned crafty. He looked at Jamie and said, “I’m going to toss you a baby. I want you to reach out but not catch it.”
Jamie realized what Dean was up to and gave a nod. Dean gently tossed the doll upwards and then crouched down in a pouncing position.
The doll barely hit the floor when a red cap swarmed onto it. It raised a screwdriver and began pummeling the doll, screaming madly in what sounded like triumph.
Adam suddenly felt the desire to empty his bladder. That could be us, he realized. Jesus Christ…
He looked at Jamie and saw his friend was doing no better; his eyes were wide with shock as he watched the carnage unfold below him. Suddenly two bullets struck the figurine and the monster’s screams turned sharp with pain.
Jamie didn’t hesitate. He climbed over the railing and jumped. His aim was perfect as his entire body weight landed on the elf. And just like Dean had done, Jamie stomped down as if he were putting out a fire. Then, Jamie nimbly climbed back up the lift; his movement swift and sure, a red cap dangling from his bloodied hands.
“Nice!” Dean crowed from his perch. He turned to the doorway and shouted, “Sam! We got two!”
“Got one!” was a faint reply.
“Two more to go,” Dean announced and rather unnecessary, thought Adam.
Kari gave a cheer when she heard the number two being yelled out from the other room.
“I hope Jamie and Adam are okay,” Grant said, his eyes wildly roving about the floor.
“Dude, it’s Jamie,” Tory said with conviction. “God’s prototype - remember?”
Sam’s face broke into a wide grin. “The guy should be applying for a job at the Hall of Justice.”
Grant looked at Sam and noticed the admiration mixed along with the smile. “You know who we are?”
“Love the show,” Sam confessed. “Best hour on television if you ask me.”
“Thanks,” Grant said, torn between feeling flattered and worried that a man who hunts monsters so thoroughly enjoyed Mythbusters.
“How long will this take?” Grant asked. “We can’t stay up here forever.”
“You won’t have to wait long,” Sam answered grimly, all trace of humor gone. “The creatures need blood to survive, and I’m guessing they haven’t gotten much since they’ve been transformed. So, they’ll make their move soon.”
“That doesn’t sound good,” Kari said.
“Why?” Tory looked at her in surprise.
“It means they’re going to get desperate,” Kari said. “And unpredictable.”
“Bingo,” Sam added, giving Kari a look of admiration.
Kari blushed prettily and tucked an errant lock of hair behind her right ear. Grant wondered if he was ever going to understand the male/female dynamics when Kari was involved. Even some of the hardcore robotic experts Grant was blessed to call friends went into drool mode whenever Kari showed up with her broad smile and baby-doll t-shirts.
I could dip her in pond scum and guys would still want to lick her, Grant thought as he watched Sam pay a closer attention to the ladder Kari had taken refuge in. Wonder if we could use pond scum in an episode.
Tory suddenly yelped, “Grant!”
That was all Grant needed to snap his wandering mind back into its place. He glanced behind him to see a deranged elf slowly making its way across the table. It had what looked like a sawed-off metal pipe in its grasp and when it realized Grant was aware of its presence, the creature screeched and slammed down the pipe onto Grant’s ankle.
Fortunately, Grant was wearing reinforced boots that went halfway up to his calves. Something he’d learned the hard way working for M5.
Frustrated that the attack had failed, the creature leapt with the pipe raised high above his head.
It looks like the bastard love child between Yoda and a Jawa, Grant concluded aimlessly before rolling off the table and avoid having his skull cracked in half.
Grant heard Tory’s incoherent yell and Kari’s scream of shock but he couldn’t respond. He’d hit the ground flat on his back and the impact had completely knocked the air out of his lungs. Grant heard a gun go off, but Sam must have missed. The monster took a dive off the table and landed on his chest. Screaming, Grant grabbed it and kept it at arm’s length, dodging the flailing metal pipe.
Bullets were chipping away at the stack of wood behind him but Grant knew that Sam wasn’t aiming closely in fear of hitting him. While trying to peel the monster’s spindly legs from his right arm, Grant saw a familiar shape hidden halfway behind the stacked planks.
Grant snapped to a sitting position, turned violently to his right, and slammed the figurine down onto Deadblow’s weapon arm. The titanium spike sliced through the creature and silenced it immediately.
“Holy shit,” Grant announced to the room as he watched the monster thrash helplessly, impaled on the spike.
It stopped immediately the moment its cap fell off its head, and died without making another sound.
Sam yanked Grant off the floor and shielded him behind his body. He poked gingerly at the corpse before saying, “That was impressive!” He peered closer and asked, “Is that Deadblow?”
“Yeah,” Grant answered weakly, bent over and gasping for air in order not to empty out his stomach.
“Even more impressive,” Sam said. “Go back on the table.”
Grant hopped onto the nearest one without a word.
“We got two!” Sam shouted.
“There’s still one on the loose!” was the answering cry. “Little fuckers are fast!”
“You need me?”
“No, we’re good! Stay there in case the bastard comes your way!”
“Done!” Sam sounded confident but the worried look on his face told Grant that their troubles were far from over. Kari, who was climbing down the ladder, scrambled back up to its highest rung and curled herself around it. Tory, on the other hand, hadn’t budged from his initial position. Grant wondered if his friend ever would.
“That’s good news,” Adam said, feeling positively giddy after hearing the success from the next room.
“So, how do we get rid of the last one?” Jamie asked.
“I think we have to worry more about having it get away,” Dean grumbled. “It might just be smart enough to realize it can’t win this battle and take off.”
“That’s good…” Adam faltered as he realized what it might mean to have the little monster run free. An adult might have a chance against the thing, but a child?
Easy prey, Adam shuddered, remembering all the little kids who came through their M5 workshop. His imagination had them bloodied, torn to pieces, or their skulls cracked open.
“We’re going to have to stop the little fucker,” Jamie said, his usually ruddy face turned sickly grey.
“Can you secure the doors?” Dean asked, “So, the last one can’t bolt?”
“Yeah,” Jamie answered. “The doors have electronic locks. I need to get to the switchbox.”
“Okay,” Dean answered. “Where is it?”
Jamie pointed to the wall farthest away from his position. “I need to do it,” he said. “You can easily make a lot of mistakes and give the thing a chance to make a break.”
“Wait for me,” Dean said before slowly making his way to Jamie.
The two men cautiously made their way across the floor with Adam diligently scouring the area around them to make sure they weren’t going to be ambushed.
Jamie opened the main control panel and hit a few keys while flipping three switches painted candy-apple red.
“That ought to do it,” Jamie said. “Unless the thing eats its way through the entry points, it’s stuck.”
“Good,” Dean said. “By the way, you got a gun handy?”
Jamie sidestepped to a table and opened a drawer that had a safe embedded into it. With few deft movements he pulled out a Beretta. “We keep the rest in lockdown cabinets and they’re two rooms down.”
“Good, that’s good,” Dean said.
“How’s that good?”
“Because the fucker can’t get to them.”
Jamie recoiled at the idea of the creepy little thing armed with a semi-automatic.
“What other weapons do you have in this room?”
“Anything can be used a weapon,” Jamie answered, looking around. “Half of this stuff was used to decapitate Buster.”
“Um … okay,” Dean said cautiously. “And you guys are an educational show?”
Jamie recollected all the gratuitous violence they committed in the name of science and fun, and shrugged. “Sometimes.”
“Get back on high ground,” Dean said. “I’m going on a hunt.”
“Roger that.” Jamie scrambled up the shelves and positioned himself close to Adam.
“I still can’t believe this is happening,” Adam confessed to his friend. “Even after all I just saw … I’m half convinced I’m just having some kind of a breakdown.”
“Join the club,” Jamie said tersely. He watched Dean flip over a tarp and peek under the table. He had to stop himself from crying out in alarm because he’d imagined the little critter shooting out from underneath like a rocket, aiming for Dean’s eyes.
Dean stood up and shook his head. “The thing could be anywhere.”
Adam nudged Jamie and said, “I think we should climb down.”
“And do what?” Jamie looked at his friend in mild shock. “Get killed?”
“Fish or cut bait,” Adam said, looking surprised that he even spoke the words. “And we’re bait if you were curious.”
Jamie’s bushy walrus mustache trembled and for a moment Adam thought his friend was going to blow all his gaskets. Instead, the man took a deep breath and then blew it out, making his mustache flap comically.
“Okay,” Jamie said. “But Dean’s not going to be happy about it.”
“Men like him are never happy,” Adam said. “That’s what makes them tick so hard.”
Jamie mulled over that comment before climbing down the shelves.
Dean heard their movement and looked up. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
“Look, you guys will have an easier time if we join up with our friends,” Jamie explained. “That way only one of you has to worry about watching over us.”
Dean did not look pleased but said, “Okay, just take it slow and easy.”
“Not planning to do any tour jetés,” Jamie snapped before finally allowing his feet to touch the floor.
Dean spotted them from his position, completely ignoring the danger of having his attention diverted elsewhere. Jamie and Adam joined him and the three men cautiously made their way to the next room.
“Holy fuck,” Tory said, sounding almost teary from relief. “Thank God you guys are all right.”
“We weren’t sure if you really were okay or if you were playing heroes,” Kari explained further when Tory fell silent.
Sam greeted them with, “Get up.”
Both Jamie and Adam scrambled onto a pile of lumber stacked against the wall.
“So, just one?” Sam asked.
“Just one, but the sucker’s smart,” Dean answered. “I think it might try to escape.”
“That thought crossed my mind too,” Sam said, frowning. “We can’t let it get out.”
“No shit,” Dean said, peeking under a table saw. “Just how smart are these things?”
“They’re not book-smart, but they’re excellent predators so their learning curve is pretty damn impressive.”
“Wait a minute - didn’t you say they’re allergic to the Scriptures?”
Sam looked at Dean. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“Hey, it’s worth a shot.” Dean looked around the room and hollered out, “Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the Lord your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you.”
Sam added, “For six days, work is to be done, but the seventh day shall be your holy day, a Sabbath of rest to the Lord. Whoever does any work on it must be put to death.”
Dean looked at Sam and quirked an eyebrow.
“Dude, couldn’t you use something a bit more cheerful?” Tory asked weakly.
“Drink no longer water, but use a little wine for thy stomach's sake.” Dean said, a wry smile blooming on his face.
Sam rolled his eyes but did not back down. “Be sober, be vigilant; because your adversary the devil, as a roaring lion, walketh about seeking whom he may devour.”
“Ummm…” Adam interrupted meekly. “What are you guys doing?”
“It is hard for thee to kick against the pricks,” Dean yelled on the top of his lungs.
That did it: Sam broke into a huge grin and shook his head. “Only you would find something that low in the Bible.”
Kari was mesmerized by the interchange between the two men, but her attention wasn’t so completely absorbed that she nearly missed the flash of red out of the corner of her eye. She turned just in time to see the indescribable creature take a flying leap at the back of Jamie’s head.
“Jamie!” she screamed.
He turned around while raising his gun arm. The single shot he managed to pull nailed the monster right in the center of its narrow, hairy chest. The redcap dropped on the ground but took less than a moment to get its bearings.
But that was all both Dean and Sam needed. With a single economic movement, Sam threw a dagger at the creature, piercing it between its eyes. Dean, on the other hand, unloaded an entire clip into it.
Even with half of its face blasted off, it tried vainly to pull out the dagger. With a cry of frustration Dean ripped off its bloody cap.
“What the fuck!” he yelled, “Die already!”
The mangled creature writhed for a moment before coming to a standstill.
“Jesus H. Christ,” Tory said.
“So … that’s it?” Adam asked weakly. “Seriously?”
“Yep,” Dean said as he loaded a fresh clip into the automatic. “Unless you guys bought more cursed shit that we’re not aware of.”
Jamie blinked furiously, his attention still focused on the dead monster. Adam nudged him before saying, “I bought only these … things from the flea market.”
“Good,” Dean said. “So, not to make this more painful: Good bye.”
Sam looked startled by Dean’s abrupt farewell. “What my tactless brother wants to say is … just be careful about what you buy. And we’d appreciate it if you guys didn’t advertise what happened tonight. We’re not very popular with law enforcement because of what we do.”
“Gee, I wonder why,” Grant said. And his comment would’ve been taken for a sarcastic insult had his voice not been thready and his face sickly green.
Kari took one look at her friend before rushing off to find the vomit bucket. She found it tucked in a cabinet. Grant took it from her with a look of gratitude before running out of the room, his face already half-buried in the container.
Dean winced when he heard Grant emptying out his stomach. “That’s going hurt.”
“Not really,” Tory said. “Grant’s used to it. He tends to lose his lunch quite a bit during work.”
Sam grinned when he saw Dean’s confused look but did nothing to clarify Tory’s off-handed comment. Instead, he added, “And think for a moment about the reaction if you did talk.” He then pointed to where the last monster fell.
Both Adam and Jamie turned to the corpse only to find smoking ash. They looked at each other and sighed simultaneously.
“Well, shit,” Jamie muttered through his moustache. He then took off his beret then scratched his sweaty, bald head. “I’m guessing men in white coats?”
“That would be good news,” Dean said. “But it could get a lot worse than that.”
Sam’s face darkened. “It’s true. So, the best thing to do is go home and celebrate Christmas with your families and friends, and erase what happened here from your minds.”
“There isn’t enough tequila in the world to make me forget what happened tonight,” Tory said, mopping the back of his neck with his shirtsleeve.
“Then think about the hot babe you’re hooking up with on New Year’s Eve,” Dean shot back smoothly. “And what she would do if you told her what happened tonight.”
Tory grimaced but said nothing.
Jamie gave Dean a piercing look and said, “I got some ammo if you guys need to reload. You spent quite a few bullets chasing down the little bastards.”
Dean smiled in genuine pleasure by the offer. “Thanks. That’d be great actually. We’re running low on funds.”
“Follow me.”
Jamie led Dean and Sam through a maze of corridors to a door that had not one but four locks. Jamie fumbled with a ring of keys before finding the right ones.
When he opened the door, Dean and Sam realized why the precautions were necessary. The entire room was lined with gun cabinets. Jamie opened the biggest one to reveal an impressive collection of armaments.
“Wow,” Dean said.
“Could we?” Sam asked politely, though his gaze was almost avaricious as he examined the stockpile.
“Sure, help yourself,” Jamie said, stepping back.
Sam only took two boxes of bullets but they were the most expensive kind. Meanwhile, Dean examined the other cabinets.
Jamie opened a footlocker half-hidden in a corner and pulled out a small wooden box.
“This should interest you,” Jamie said.
Sam took the box and opened it. His jaw opened in shock. “Oh my God,” he whispered. “Dean!”
“What?!” was the impatient reply.
Sam held up the open box. The contents were enough for Dean whose eyes widened noticeably.
“Holy shit,” Dean said. “Is that what I think it is?”
“I don’t know what you think but if the lore is correct, this gun’s able to kill monsters like the ones upstairs,” Jamie said. “Or, at least that’s what the dealer said when he sold it to me.”
Dean lifted the Colt and examined the weapon. “It’s just like ours, Sam.”
“I know,” Sam said. “And it still has its bullets.”
Dean counted them and grinned from ear to ear. “Thirteen. Got to love that.”
“You know what this means?” Sam asked, as his eyes fairly danced with happiness.
“We go hunting,” Dean said.
“That’s what I thought you’d say,” Jamie commented, smiling broadly as Sam.
“Are you sure you want to give it away?” Sam asked. “It must have cost a fortune.”
“Don’t worry about that,” Jamie answered. “Just do some good with it, okay?”
“We will,” Sam said fervently. “I swear.”
“So, my crew and I will be leaving now,” Jamie said. “I’m guessing you guys can clean up?”
“It’ll take us less than twenty minutes,” Dean said. “Thanks, a lot. Seriously.”
“A weapon like this will help us a great a deal,” Sam added.
“I figured it might,” Jamie said. He turned to leave when he looked back at them. “Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas to you, too,” Sam said.
“Have a safe holiday,” Dean added.
“Oh, I plan to.”
Jamie found Adam waiting for him at the parking lot along with Tory and Kari who were bookending a pale Grant.
“Let’s get out of here,” Jamie said. “The first round’s on me.”
“Tequila,” Tory said, “definitely tequila.”
“Everything okay, Jamie?” Adam asked.
“Everything’s fine. Let’s get out of here,” Jamie answered, and it took him only a moment to realize he wasn’t lying.
The End
Author's Notes:
I love Mythbusters almost as much as Dirty Jobs. Of course, this forces me to treat them with great irreverence whenever the possibility occurs.
Anyway, I hope you folks have a peaceful and merry holiday season, and I will see you on the flipside!
Genre: RPF, casefic
Pairing: none
Fandom(s): Supernatural, Mythbusters
Rating: R for language and violence
Disclaimer: Fiction, fiction, and a side of C4.
Summary: Jamie sends his partner-in-crime, Adam, to do some shopping for their television series. What he comes back with, though, is more appropriate for Friday the Thirteenth movie than a show on the Discovery Channel.
Author's Note: Bah Humbug!
December 2, 2010
San Francisco, California
Adam couldn’t believe he was going to return to M5 empty-handed. That had never happened before, as he was an avid junk hunter and usually lucked out whenever he swooped into a flea market.
Nevertheless, the truth could not be denied. After three hours of scouring through the Annual Christmas Market, the loquacious half of the Mythbusters television series had nothing to show for his troubles save for more freckles than he’d started out with in the morning.
He wondered how much ribbing he was going to get from his coworkers for his failures. If his suspicions were correct, M5 was going to be an interesting workplace for the rest of December.
I bet Jamie’s going to make some terrible device that’ll holler out my failures every morning I come to work, especially since I promised him a bounty, Adam thought in slight dismay. Well, that’s what you get for working in special effects.
In wonder, Adam looked up at the sun. It was the week after Thanksgiving, and for San Francisco the sun had become a rare sight since October. But this entire week, it was hanging in the sky, seemingly jubilant in its return.
Adam was leaving the main tent when he saw what had to be the most hideous Christmas display he’d ever come across.
“Holy shit,” he said loudly, not caring if anyone heard him. With quick strides, Adam marched over to the table. Eager fingers danced over the figurines on display as he tried to decide which ones to check out first.
“Ugly as sin, aren’t they?” the woman mischievously said to him from her chair behind the table.
Adam gave a chagrined smile. “You heard me.”
“You and just about everyone else who walked by,” she said. “Name’s Emily. And this here is my contribution to mankind.”
Adam lifted an ornament that had a miniature deer head with an evergreen wreath around its neck. That in it of itself wasn’t anything strange. But this deer head was covered with what felt like genuine pelt and the beady black eyes seemed a little too real for Adam.
“Is this a hobby of yours?” he asked weakly.
Emily laughed gaily. “No, this shit belonged to my psycho brother who passed away a year ago. His attorney finally released all his stuff. Unfortunately for me, this is my share of the inheritance!”
“Sucks to be you,” Adam said promptly.
“Doesn’t it?” Emily leaned back into her chair and sighed. “So, here I am, trying to hawk this junk.”
Adam pointed at a cluster of Christmas elves. “How much for those?”
“Twenty dollars for the whole lot.”
“Done!” Adam poked a curious finger at a small figurine. He didn’t know what kind of material was used to create the hideous thing but its cap was dyed a shade of brilliant red, making it look almost bloody.
And spongy, his mind added gleefully.
Fortunately for Adam and his finger, the deranged Christmas elf was hard as steel. He mentally giggled at his thoughts and pulled out his wallet.
Emily packed the figurines in a plastic bag. “What do you plan to do with them?”
“Blow them up.”
“Sounds like a plan!” Emily replied with a cackle.
Adam grinned and walked away, feeling like a prince for buying a bunch of plastic Christmas elves made by Jason, Michael, and Freddie after a hard night of chugging tequila and smoking some good shit.
Jamie’s going to love this! Adam gloated as he drove back to M5. He could just imagine what kind of mayhem his partner-in-crime could perform on the show using these monstrous elves.
Adam began cheerfully whistling Here Comes Santa Claus as he pulled his Prius out of the flea market’s parking lot and into rush hour traffic.
December 19, 2010
Sparks, Nevada
Dean ate his hamburger; his mutinous face warning away the friendly waitress who, only moments before, thought she was going to get lucky and have a date for the Christmas Eve employee party at the diner.
“It’s not my fault!” Sam protested. “Bobby was the one who passed this case! It’s not like I went looking for it!”
Dean took a deep breath. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve been looking forward to next week? For the first time in my life there’s going to be a beer convention. At Last Vegas.
“Do you know how close to heaven that is? For me?!”
Sam winced as Dean sprayed chewed bits of hamburger and vinegar-coated fries onto his salad bowl. “Like I said,” he replied hotly, “not my fault. If you want to disappoint Bobby, you go right ahead.”
Dean’s mutinous looks turned mulish before surrendering to his brother’s plea. “So, what are we hunting again? Fairies?”
“Actually, yes,” Sam said, fruitlessly trying to hide his surprise that Dean actually listened to him earlier. “They’re belong in the fairy category; some say goblins, some say dwarves.”
“Po-tay-to, Po-ta-to,” Dean said. “What I want to know is: How do we kill the bastards? That’s what’s important.”
“Quoting bible verses harms them enough to slow them down, maybe make them think twice about hunting you.” Sam frowned and leaned closer to read the laptop screen. “But the only way to kill them is to take away their caps or destroy them.”
“Set them on fire?”
“That might work, but the common lore says that drying them up is the tried and true method,” Sam answered. “Either way, the cap itself has to be destroyed somehow, or the blood has to be dried up. So, I’m thinking snatching them away could work too.”
Dean recoiled a little. “That’s disgusting. Should we get some protective gear from the hospital? Just in case?”
Sam shook his head. “I don’t think we have to worry about blood-borne diseases. Whatever happens, we have to move fast. They also have to dye their caps often because if they don’t: they die.”
Dean sat back and crossed his arms. “Okay, so what are they like exactly?”
“Pretty difficult to hunt down, actually,” Sam said. “They’re fast and they also wear spiked boots made of iron.”
“Gives a whole new meaning to ‘steel-tipped’. Can we shoot them?”
“You could try but they’re probably just too fast for us to get a bead on them. Unless they’re too tired to run. If that happens, we can use iron to kill them.”
“So, bullets could slow them down, but we’re going to have to do slice and dice to do any real damage.”
“Yeah,” Sam said, his voice laced with concern.
“Why the weird face?”
“We’re hunting more than one,” Sam answered.
Dean’s eyes narrowed. “How many exactly?”
“Five.”
Dean’s head dropped back onto the plastic booth as a low moan escaped from him.
“Yeah, I know,” Sam said. “We’ve got to be careful here, Dean. Redcaps are pretty much invincible when they’re on top of their form.”
“What do we know about this friendly bunch?”
“They were brought over by a man named Daniel Harbor,” Sam explained. “The guy was seriously bad news from what Bobby found out. He had a nasty habit of consorting with demons and a lot of people died as a result.”
“What happened to him?”
“Bobby thinks the redcaps killed him when he summoned them and I think he’s right,” Sam said. “The police department concluded Harbor took a dive from his eleventh-floor condo, but from what I’ve read, his body has cuts and bruises that don’t match up with wounds that come from the dive.”
“The redcaps drove him to jump,” Dean concluded. “But they made him bleed first so they could use his blood to dye their stupid caps.
“More important question: where the fuck are they now?”
Sam sighed and ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “San Francisco. Bobby managed to find out they were sold few weeks ago at a holiday fair. He couldn’t figure out to whom.”
“So, all we can do is wait until the papers start reporting bizarre deaths?”
“Or a spike in suicide,” Sam added. “Though, around the holidays, that’s pretty damn common.”
Dean finished his coffee. “Let’s hit the road. If these suckers are as messed up as you say they are, bodies should start piling up pretty damn quick.”
Sam gave a terse nod of agreement and packed up his laptop. Dean left a generous tip for the spurned waitress, but that was about all the attention he could afford to waste. They were on a hunt now, and though their targets seemed laughable, both Bobby’s and Sam’s reactions told Dean that it was going to be a tough one.
Las Vegas, Dean mentally sighed. Maybe they’ll make it an annual thing.
December 24, 2010
Jamie loathed to touch the disgusting figurines but he had to if he wanted to scan the blasted things for the computer. Both he and Adam had come up with some fantastic plans to use the ugly objects for future episodes, and during daylight everything seemed fine. But now, Jamie was by himself and the five plastic elves with their hoary grins, and his nerves were singing a little bit too loudly for Jamie to ignore.
And there was also the fact that the little monstrosities were disgusting to touch. In the beginning Adam handled them like any other object, but the longer they sat on the table, the less inclined Adam was to handle them. In fact, earlier in the day Jamie had caught Adam using sticks and a prop cane to push the figures about the table,. Jamie had teased him mercilessly then, but now, he knew exactly why Adam had been so reluctant to handle them.
They’re starting to feel soft, Jamie finally admitted to himself. Like they’re thawing out after a deep freeze.
Jamie narrowed his gaze as he studied the five demented Christmas elves. Whoever made these have some genuine issues. Hopefully, he’s dealing with them far from women, children, and the elderly.
He heard a crash and a burst of laughter from the next room. In a fit of annoyance Jamie cried out, “Hey, cut it out! I’m trying to work here!”
Kari’s apologetic voice piped out, “Sorry! Can’t help it: Tory’s being stupid!”
“As usual!” Grant added. He stuck his head in the doorway. “Need some help?”
Jamie felt genuine fondness for the robotic specialist. “I’m almost done,” he said.
Grant approached the table. Then, without a warning, he picked up one of the figurines and studied it closely. “Ugly little beasts, aren’t they?”
Jamie had to force himself not to show any visible disgust as he watched Grant trace the stitches on the elf’s leather vest. He was even more grateful that Grant didn’t go anywhere near the leather breeches. If the bulge was correct, the goddamn thing was anatomically correct and wasn’t that thirty-one flavors of fucked up? “I can’t figure out why they were made to begin with.”
“Somebody has a bad sense of humor and decided to take it out on the public,” Grant guessed. “At least that’s what I’m hoping.”
Jamie felt a little relieved when Grant put the figurine down. “We’re going to blow up the entire lot. I’m going to consider that my goodwill act for this year.”
“Sounds good,” Grant said. “Tory’s going to pick up dinner, but Kari and I’ll be sticking around. If you need anything, just give us a holler.”
“I’ll do that,” Jamie said. “Hopefully I won’t need to.”
He watched Grant disappear and for a moment felt a sharp desire to ask him to keep stay because the last thing Jamie needed was to be alone with those ugly bastards, all grinning at him with…
Jamie blinked and looked harder. I could’ve sworn their teeth weren’t that big…
But the last thing he wanted to was lean closer to satisfy his curiosity. So, Jamie continued scanning the creepy buggers, wishing the computer worked faster inputting the data into Grant’s computations.
When Adam finally appeared, it took Jamie a great deal not to smile in relief.
“You know, I’m starting to regret buying these things,” Adam said. “I thought they were funny but now I think they’re just … scary. Not funny scary but mean, cold-blooded scary.”
“Well, whatever they are they’re going the way of the dodo in a month,” Jamie said. “They’re the perfect size for the cyclone myth.”
Adam grinned. “Fantastic. And if any survive?”
“We’ll just sink whatever is left in the Bay,” Jamie answered. “Maybe throw one into the whirlpool by the bridge to see what happens.”
“Hee,” Adam gleefully smiled, already imagining what Jamie had in mind. “We could build a miniature boat and nail the fucker onto the deck.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Jamie agreed, improving his mood by just thinking about the destruction of the figurines.
“Fans are going to love it,” Adam said, taking off his coat and hat. He carelessly tossed them onto a chair and rolled up his sleeves. “What’s next?”
Before Jamie answered there was a polite cough from the doorway. He looked up and immediately felt his hackles rise. The two men were complete strangers, and though they tried to look harmless, Jamie knew by experience that they were trouble and half.
“Can we help you?” Adam asked, eyeing them warily.
“Yeah,” the smaller one said. “Name’s Dean. We’re here about … actually those ugly ass things right there.”
Dean approached them and though the smile on his face seemed genuine, his eyes were completely trained on the five demented elves on the table.
“What about them?” Jamie asked.
“It’s a long story, and I’m sure you’ve got something better than to listen to stupid family arguments. The end game is we want to buy those back from you guys.”
Jamie suddenly realized Dean, if that was even his real name, had no idea who he and Adam were. And felt relief trickle through his fear because he honestly relished anonymity whenever it was afforded to him. Like Adam, Jamie enjoyed the perks of being a well-known figure, but unlike Adam he didn’t have the necessary coping mechanism when fame turned sour. He’d been sexually propositioned on numerous occasions and had to actually become belligerent when the offeror wouldn’t take no for an answer.
Then, the big one who was still standing on the doorway blurted out, “Holy shit. You guys are the Mythbusters.”
Whatever Dean was going to say got lost. He turned to his companion with a frown. “What did you say, Sam?”
Sam, the jolly plaid giant, approached them. “These guys - they’re like Mike; they have a very popular show on Discovery.”
Dean looked taken back by the explanation. He turned to Jamie and Adam and said, “Yeah? Sorry, I don’t know the show. Hope you guys aren’t insulted.”
“Not at all,” Adam said, now cautiously eyeing Sam along with Dean. “So, you guys want to buy these things?”
“Yeah, kind of a family situation,” Dean said.
“Your family’s last name isn’t Addams by chance?” Jamie asked.
Sam’s grin broadened while Dean looked even more confused. “No,” Sam answered. “But that’s a good guess. Seriously, we’ll pay good money to take them off your hands. And you’d be doing us a great favor. The last thing we want is to show up empty-handed on our family’s annual Christmas gathering after being told to get these for grandma.”
Adam looked at Jamie who looked back at him.
“What the hell,” Jamie said, the thought of never seeing the ugly things again bringing heartfelt relief.
“How much are you asking for them?”
Before Dean or Sam could answer, Adam let out a yelp and hurled himself back from the group.
“What?!” Jamie barked.
Wordlessly Adam pointed at the table. The three men looked down and gasped in unison. All five figurines had vanished.
Dean’s reaction was immediate if also puzzling: He manhandled Adam onto the table before looking around the floor with Sam.
As he watched them, Jamie felt an obligation to ask them what in hell they were doing, all the while feeling panic rise as he watched Dean and Sam search for the missing Christmas decorations.
Then, to drive the panic in further, all the lights went out and for a moment they were engulfed in near darkness before the backup generators kicked in. With the eerie blue emergency lights and the encroaching night, everything familiar now looked hostile and alien.
Jamie’s nerves were further shredded when Dean and Sam pulled out guns from their jackets.
“Hey!” he shouted. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!”
“Get off the floor!” Dean barked. He looked around the warehouse and saw the mechanical lift in a corner. “Use that!”
Jamie was about to protest when a scream from the other room grabbed his attention. It was Kari.
“Run!” she screamed.
“The shelves! Get on the shelves!” was Grant’s frantic reply.
“Motherfuckers!” Tory yelled.
Then crashing noises emanated from the room.
“I’ll take them!” Sam shouted.
Dean gave a nod and looked around the floors, gingerly lifting things out of the way. Jamie was tempted to give him a swift kick to Dean’s backside before making a break, but before he could make a move the central door slammed down, cutting off the main exit.
“What just happened?” Jamie asked.
“It’s the little fuckers,” Dean promptly answered from his crouching position under a saw table. He looked up and frowned. “Dude, I wasn’t joking when I said to get on high ground. These things will bash your head in and from the looks of it, they’ve got plenty of weapons to use.”
“Look, I don’t know if you didn’t take your meds this morning or what,” Jamie said hotly, “but this isn’t funny.”
“Look out!” Adam yelled, pointing behind Dean.
Jamie cocked his head to see what Adam was looking at and what he saw pooled all his blood around his ankles.
That’s real blood, Jamie realized as he examined the now-animated figurine and the big, fat merry drops falling from its red cap.
Dean turned around and ducked, saving the back of his skull from being bashed open by a metal pipe. The monster gave a howl then a cackle of frustration before trying to hammer Dean into the floor.
“Fuck!” Dean shouted then shot the beast which scrabbled across the floor just like the parasite from the Alien films before disappearing from view.
Adam didn’t bother to watch any more. He scrambled onto the ladder that was attached to the ceiling-high shelving and began frantically climbing. Jamie ran for the lift and got on it before using the automated system to raise the platform to the highest level possible.
Dean jumped on a worktable and looked around. “Whatever you do, don’t let them get your blood! Understand?!”
“Okay,” Jamie managed to squeak out, feeling inordinately proud that he actually vocalized his answer unlike Adam who only managed to give a feeble nod.
Another crashing noise from the room next door grabbed their attention, and Adam wondered how the rest of his friends were faring. Then he prayed that Sam had enough ammunition to kill whatever these monsters were.
Tory looked down at the floor from his ladder. He still couldn’t figure out what the things were. For a moment he thought they were one of Grant’s robots; something his friend built as a prank to scare the shit out of everybody before the holiday break.
But, looking at Grant’s horrified face, Tory accepted the fact that his friend had nothing to do with the bloody mayhem that had erupted in their workshop.
“You okay?” Grant shouted.
Tory looked at Kari and paled even further. She’d managed to stem the blood flow from the bite wounds on her arm, but he knew she was feeling faint.
The stranger who’d burst in was still in the room, kicking away furniture and debris as he methodically hunted down the creatures.
“Who are you?” Grant asked weakly, “And why do you have a gun?”
“Name’s Sam,” the stranger answered. “And we came here to get those things before they came to life.”
“Came to life?” Kari echoed weakly. “Wait a minute - what are those things?”
“The figurines your boss bought last week,” Sam answered. “They’re real and they need blood. So, make sure you don’t bleed onto the floor, no matter what happens.”
“Why not?” Kari asked, now busily trying to bind the wounds with her sweatshirt.
“It’s like chum in the water for sharks,” Sam answered. “They’ll hunt you down the moment they realize you’re bleeding.”
“Well, that’s just crazy,” Grant said. “I don’t know what…”
Tory’s dumbfounded “Holy fuck, what is that?” interrupted Grant who caught a glimpse of what had shocked Tory.
Until that moment, Grant was able to explain away what was happening with plausible, albeit far-fetched, explanations. But, as the hairy, previously-immobile Christmas elf cavorted into view, Grant had to accept the fact that either he went insane in the last three minutes or the figurines Adam had bought had indeed somehow come to life.
The gunshot echoed loudly in the room, but not as loud as the cursing grunts that emanated from the damaged figurine as it scooted under a stack of pressed boards that Jamie was planning to recycle. Grant saw a trickle of red and though he was fervently wishing it were drops of paint, his gut told him the crimson trail was blood.
“Okay, so it can be hurt?” Kari asked, strength returning in her voice alongside anger.
“Not like the way you think. My brother and I came by to get these things before anything bad happened,” the man explained apologetically, as if it was his fault that plastic figurines had somehow magically come to life. “Looks like we came a little too late to the party.”
Tory made a move to climb down from the table but was aborted when Sam shouted, “Don’t move!”
“Why?” Tory asked.
“Because these things need blood and they’ll do just about anything to get it,” Sam explained. “Look, you have to think of them as intelligent, starving piranhas. They’re bloodthirsty and the moment you make a mistake - they’ll swarm over you.”
“So why are you walking around?” Kari asked, also looking around her position, as if considering coming down and joining the hunt.
“Because we hunt these things for a living,” Sam said while cautiously kicking a bucket out of the way.
A flash of red caught his attention and Sam whirled to his left, firing off two shots in neat succession. This, more than anything else, convinced both Kari and Tory to stay on their perches.
A malignant cackle caught all their attention. Unfortunately, due to the cavernous nature of the warehouse, the sound seemed to be coming from everywhere.
“Shit,” Grant hissed. “What can we do?”
“Stay where you are,” Sam answered, not taking his eyes off the floor. “The last thing I need is to worry about you while…”
He leaped, and it was such a swift, unexpected movement that Grant jumped a little as a sympathetic response.
The whistling sound told him that whatever it was, was a near miss.
“Holy shit!” Kari hissed as she craned her neck to the left. “Was that a sword?”
Sam gave a jerky nod. “They’re trying to slice open my Achilles.”
“Nice,” Grant said, fighting down the urge to vomit.
“Definitely not moving,” Kari said, crouching down on her ladder.
Sam peered closer to the cabinet it had disappeared into. Without warning, the redcap burst out, the sword raised high above its head. Sam neatly moved aside as the weapon came down. The blade imbedded itself into a table and became stuck. The redcap was furiously trying to pull it out when Sam put a bullet in the back of its head before kicking off its cap.
The creature dangled from the sword’s handle, its death grip sure and unyielding.
“What’s next?” Jamie asked as he peered over the railing.
“We’re going to need to draw them out,” Dean answered reluctantly. “Got anything?”
“How about babies?” Adam offered.
That made Dean stop in his tracks. “I’m sorry - did you say babies?”
“They’re still there,” Jamie said, pointing up to the second highest shelf and a large plastic container marked ‘BABIES’.
Dean gave it a glance, raised a questioning eyebrow and said, “Okay, that should work.”
Adam nimbly climbed up the shelves and opened the container. He pulled out two life-sized dolls of newborns and shouted, “Catch!”
Dean caught the dolls then neatly jumped onto a table. He scrounged around and pulled out a coil of rope. He tied one around the body the doll and said, “Tell me if you see any movement.”
“Okay,” Adam said, unable to stop from leaning further out to see what Dean would do.
Dean dangled the doll over the edge of the table and swung it about gently, making cooing noises. Jamie stared, horrified and fascinated as Dean slowly toured around the large worktable, dangling the doll as bait.
It was by sheer chance that he chose to glance at Adam. “Above you!” he screamed on top of his lungs.
Adam looked up and swung on an axis like a monkey would do on a vine. The creature was only two feet above him and was madly swinging a hammer at Adam’s head.
Strangely, Adam wasn’t at all afraid as he was too fascinated by what he was seeing. He knew his reaction was purely shock. And that in real life he’d be screaming as he jumped to the ground, but he couldn’t as he attention was riveted to the homicidal Christmas elf currently trying to cave in his skull.
Its blood-red eyes with cat-like pupils fixed on him and seemed to take his answering stare as a challenge. It bared its shark-like rows of teeth and stuck out a forked tongue while making lewd noises.
“You are one ugly motherfucker,” Adam said before dodging another blow. Then a shot rang over Adam’s head and hit the figurine dead center in the forehead. It screeched and fell off its perch, crashing onto the floor with a wet crunchy noise.
And yet, in spite of broken limbs, it tried mightily to crawl to safety.
Dean jumped off the table and landed on the broken figure. Adam thought his boots had to be industrial because the crunching noise told Adam that they were reinforced with steel.
Dean jumped up and down twice before stepping off the pulpy mound and taking its red cap as a trophy.
Adam stared at the indescribable mess. It didn’t exactly look like roadkill but he could definitely identify the matter as organic.
Looks like what happens to a watermelon if it got tossed from a trebuchet.
Dean wiped off his boots on a table leg before jumping back on it. “One down, five to go.”
Jamie realized that the creatures were able to climb so while Dean scoured the floors, he looked above, even at the ceiling just in case they managed to get that far by shimmying around on the pipes.
Dean’s face turned crafty. He looked at Jamie and said, “I’m going to toss you a baby. I want you to reach out but not catch it.”
Jamie realized what Dean was up to and gave a nod. Dean gently tossed the doll upwards and then crouched down in a pouncing position.
The doll barely hit the floor when a red cap swarmed onto it. It raised a screwdriver and began pummeling the doll, screaming madly in what sounded like triumph.
Adam suddenly felt the desire to empty his bladder. That could be us, he realized. Jesus Christ…
He looked at Jamie and saw his friend was doing no better; his eyes were wide with shock as he watched the carnage unfold below him. Suddenly two bullets struck the figurine and the monster’s screams turned sharp with pain.
Jamie didn’t hesitate. He climbed over the railing and jumped. His aim was perfect as his entire body weight landed on the elf. And just like Dean had done, Jamie stomped down as if he were putting out a fire. Then, Jamie nimbly climbed back up the lift; his movement swift and sure, a red cap dangling from his bloodied hands.
“Nice!” Dean crowed from his perch. He turned to the doorway and shouted, “Sam! We got two!”
“Got one!” was a faint reply.
“Two more to go,” Dean announced and rather unnecessary, thought Adam.
Kari gave a cheer when she heard the number two being yelled out from the other room.
“I hope Jamie and Adam are okay,” Grant said, his eyes wildly roving about the floor.
“Dude, it’s Jamie,” Tory said with conviction. “God’s prototype - remember?”
Sam’s face broke into a wide grin. “The guy should be applying for a job at the Hall of Justice.”
Grant looked at Sam and noticed the admiration mixed along with the smile. “You know who we are?”
“Love the show,” Sam confessed. “Best hour on television if you ask me.”
“Thanks,” Grant said, torn between feeling flattered and worried that a man who hunts monsters so thoroughly enjoyed Mythbusters.
“How long will this take?” Grant asked. “We can’t stay up here forever.”
“You won’t have to wait long,” Sam answered grimly, all trace of humor gone. “The creatures need blood to survive, and I’m guessing they haven’t gotten much since they’ve been transformed. So, they’ll make their move soon.”
“That doesn’t sound good,” Kari said.
“Why?” Tory looked at her in surprise.
“It means they’re going to get desperate,” Kari said. “And unpredictable.”
“Bingo,” Sam added, giving Kari a look of admiration.
Kari blushed prettily and tucked an errant lock of hair behind her right ear. Grant wondered if he was ever going to understand the male/female dynamics when Kari was involved. Even some of the hardcore robotic experts Grant was blessed to call friends went into drool mode whenever Kari showed up with her broad smile and baby-doll t-shirts.
I could dip her in pond scum and guys would still want to lick her, Grant thought as he watched Sam pay a closer attention to the ladder Kari had taken refuge in. Wonder if we could use pond scum in an episode.
Tory suddenly yelped, “Grant!”
That was all Grant needed to snap his wandering mind back into its place. He glanced behind him to see a deranged elf slowly making its way across the table. It had what looked like a sawed-off metal pipe in its grasp and when it realized Grant was aware of its presence, the creature screeched and slammed down the pipe onto Grant’s ankle.
Fortunately, Grant was wearing reinforced boots that went halfway up to his calves. Something he’d learned the hard way working for M5.
Frustrated that the attack had failed, the creature leapt with the pipe raised high above his head.
It looks like the bastard love child between Yoda and a Jawa, Grant concluded aimlessly before rolling off the table and avoid having his skull cracked in half.
Grant heard Tory’s incoherent yell and Kari’s scream of shock but he couldn’t respond. He’d hit the ground flat on his back and the impact had completely knocked the air out of his lungs. Grant heard a gun go off, but Sam must have missed. The monster took a dive off the table and landed on his chest. Screaming, Grant grabbed it and kept it at arm’s length, dodging the flailing metal pipe.
Bullets were chipping away at the stack of wood behind him but Grant knew that Sam wasn’t aiming closely in fear of hitting him. While trying to peel the monster’s spindly legs from his right arm, Grant saw a familiar shape hidden halfway behind the stacked planks.
Grant snapped to a sitting position, turned violently to his right, and slammed the figurine down onto Deadblow’s weapon arm. The titanium spike sliced through the creature and silenced it immediately.
“Holy shit,” Grant announced to the room as he watched the monster thrash helplessly, impaled on the spike.
It stopped immediately the moment its cap fell off its head, and died without making another sound.
Sam yanked Grant off the floor and shielded him behind his body. He poked gingerly at the corpse before saying, “That was impressive!” He peered closer and asked, “Is that Deadblow?”
“Yeah,” Grant answered weakly, bent over and gasping for air in order not to empty out his stomach.
“Even more impressive,” Sam said. “Go back on the table.”
Grant hopped onto the nearest one without a word.
“We got two!” Sam shouted.
“There’s still one on the loose!” was the answering cry. “Little fuckers are fast!”
“You need me?”
“No, we’re good! Stay there in case the bastard comes your way!”
“Done!” Sam sounded confident but the worried look on his face told Grant that their troubles were far from over. Kari, who was climbing down the ladder, scrambled back up to its highest rung and curled herself around it. Tory, on the other hand, hadn’t budged from his initial position. Grant wondered if his friend ever would.
“That’s good news,” Adam said, feeling positively giddy after hearing the success from the next room.
“So, how do we get rid of the last one?” Jamie asked.
“I think we have to worry more about having it get away,” Dean grumbled. “It might just be smart enough to realize it can’t win this battle and take off.”
“That’s good…” Adam faltered as he realized what it might mean to have the little monster run free. An adult might have a chance against the thing, but a child?
Easy prey, Adam shuddered, remembering all the little kids who came through their M5 workshop. His imagination had them bloodied, torn to pieces, or their skulls cracked open.
“We’re going to have to stop the little fucker,” Jamie said, his usually ruddy face turned sickly grey.
“Can you secure the doors?” Dean asked, “So, the last one can’t bolt?”
“Yeah,” Jamie answered. “The doors have electronic locks. I need to get to the switchbox.”
“Okay,” Dean answered. “Where is it?”
Jamie pointed to the wall farthest away from his position. “I need to do it,” he said. “You can easily make a lot of mistakes and give the thing a chance to make a break.”
“Wait for me,” Dean said before slowly making his way to Jamie.
The two men cautiously made their way across the floor with Adam diligently scouring the area around them to make sure they weren’t going to be ambushed.
Jamie opened the main control panel and hit a few keys while flipping three switches painted candy-apple red.
“That ought to do it,” Jamie said. “Unless the thing eats its way through the entry points, it’s stuck.”
“Good,” Dean said. “By the way, you got a gun handy?”
Jamie sidestepped to a table and opened a drawer that had a safe embedded into it. With few deft movements he pulled out a Beretta. “We keep the rest in lockdown cabinets and they’re two rooms down.”
“Good, that’s good,” Dean said.
“How’s that good?”
“Because the fucker can’t get to them.”
Jamie recoiled at the idea of the creepy little thing armed with a semi-automatic.
“What other weapons do you have in this room?”
“Anything can be used a weapon,” Jamie answered, looking around. “Half of this stuff was used to decapitate Buster.”
“Um … okay,” Dean said cautiously. “And you guys are an educational show?”
Jamie recollected all the gratuitous violence they committed in the name of science and fun, and shrugged. “Sometimes.”
“Get back on high ground,” Dean said. “I’m going on a hunt.”
“Roger that.” Jamie scrambled up the shelves and positioned himself close to Adam.
“I still can’t believe this is happening,” Adam confessed to his friend. “Even after all I just saw … I’m half convinced I’m just having some kind of a breakdown.”
“Join the club,” Jamie said tersely. He watched Dean flip over a tarp and peek under the table. He had to stop himself from crying out in alarm because he’d imagined the little critter shooting out from underneath like a rocket, aiming for Dean’s eyes.
Dean stood up and shook his head. “The thing could be anywhere.”
Adam nudged Jamie and said, “I think we should climb down.”
“And do what?” Jamie looked at his friend in mild shock. “Get killed?”
“Fish or cut bait,” Adam said, looking surprised that he even spoke the words. “And we’re bait if you were curious.”
Jamie’s bushy walrus mustache trembled and for a moment Adam thought his friend was going to blow all his gaskets. Instead, the man took a deep breath and then blew it out, making his mustache flap comically.
“Okay,” Jamie said. “But Dean’s not going to be happy about it.”
“Men like him are never happy,” Adam said. “That’s what makes them tick so hard.”
Jamie mulled over that comment before climbing down the shelves.
Dean heard their movement and looked up. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
“Look, you guys will have an easier time if we join up with our friends,” Jamie explained. “That way only one of you has to worry about watching over us.”
Dean did not look pleased but said, “Okay, just take it slow and easy.”
“Not planning to do any tour jetés,” Jamie snapped before finally allowing his feet to touch the floor.
Dean spotted them from his position, completely ignoring the danger of having his attention diverted elsewhere. Jamie and Adam joined him and the three men cautiously made their way to the next room.
“Holy fuck,” Tory said, sounding almost teary from relief. “Thank God you guys are all right.”
“We weren’t sure if you really were okay or if you were playing heroes,” Kari explained further when Tory fell silent.
Sam greeted them with, “Get up.”
Both Jamie and Adam scrambled onto a pile of lumber stacked against the wall.
“So, just one?” Sam asked.
“Just one, but the sucker’s smart,” Dean answered. “I think it might try to escape.”
“That thought crossed my mind too,” Sam said, frowning. “We can’t let it get out.”
“No shit,” Dean said, peeking under a table saw. “Just how smart are these things?”
“They’re not book-smart, but they’re excellent predators so their learning curve is pretty damn impressive.”
“Wait a minute - didn’t you say they’re allergic to the Scriptures?”
Sam looked at Dean. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“Hey, it’s worth a shot.” Dean looked around the room and hollered out, “Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the Lord your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you.”
Sam added, “For six days, work is to be done, but the seventh day shall be your holy day, a Sabbath of rest to the Lord. Whoever does any work on it must be put to death.”
Dean looked at Sam and quirked an eyebrow.
“Dude, couldn’t you use something a bit more cheerful?” Tory asked weakly.
“Drink no longer water, but use a little wine for thy stomach's sake.” Dean said, a wry smile blooming on his face.
Sam rolled his eyes but did not back down. “Be sober, be vigilant; because your adversary the devil, as a roaring lion, walketh about seeking whom he may devour.”
“Ummm…” Adam interrupted meekly. “What are you guys doing?”
“It is hard for thee to kick against the pricks,” Dean yelled on the top of his lungs.
That did it: Sam broke into a huge grin and shook his head. “Only you would find something that low in the Bible.”
Kari was mesmerized by the interchange between the two men, but her attention wasn’t so completely absorbed that she nearly missed the flash of red out of the corner of her eye. She turned just in time to see the indescribable creature take a flying leap at the back of Jamie’s head.
“Jamie!” she screamed.
He turned around while raising his gun arm. The single shot he managed to pull nailed the monster right in the center of its narrow, hairy chest. The redcap dropped on the ground but took less than a moment to get its bearings.
But that was all both Dean and Sam needed. With a single economic movement, Sam threw a dagger at the creature, piercing it between its eyes. Dean, on the other hand, unloaded an entire clip into it.
Even with half of its face blasted off, it tried vainly to pull out the dagger. With a cry of frustration Dean ripped off its bloody cap.
“What the fuck!” he yelled, “Die already!”
The mangled creature writhed for a moment before coming to a standstill.
“Jesus H. Christ,” Tory said.
“So … that’s it?” Adam asked weakly. “Seriously?”
“Yep,” Dean said as he loaded a fresh clip into the automatic. “Unless you guys bought more cursed shit that we’re not aware of.”
Jamie blinked furiously, his attention still focused on the dead monster. Adam nudged him before saying, “I bought only these … things from the flea market.”
“Good,” Dean said. “So, not to make this more painful: Good bye.”
Sam looked startled by Dean’s abrupt farewell. “What my tactless brother wants to say is … just be careful about what you buy. And we’d appreciate it if you guys didn’t advertise what happened tonight. We’re not very popular with law enforcement because of what we do.”
“Gee, I wonder why,” Grant said. And his comment would’ve been taken for a sarcastic insult had his voice not been thready and his face sickly green.
Kari took one look at her friend before rushing off to find the vomit bucket. She found it tucked in a cabinet. Grant took it from her with a look of gratitude before running out of the room, his face already half-buried in the container.
Dean winced when he heard Grant emptying out his stomach. “That’s going hurt.”
“Not really,” Tory said. “Grant’s used to it. He tends to lose his lunch quite a bit during work.”
Sam grinned when he saw Dean’s confused look but did nothing to clarify Tory’s off-handed comment. Instead, he added, “And think for a moment about the reaction if you did talk.” He then pointed to where the last monster fell.
Both Adam and Jamie turned to the corpse only to find smoking ash. They looked at each other and sighed simultaneously.
“Well, shit,” Jamie muttered through his moustache. He then took off his beret then scratched his sweaty, bald head. “I’m guessing men in white coats?”
“That would be good news,” Dean said. “But it could get a lot worse than that.”
Sam’s face darkened. “It’s true. So, the best thing to do is go home and celebrate Christmas with your families and friends, and erase what happened here from your minds.”
“There isn’t enough tequila in the world to make me forget what happened tonight,” Tory said, mopping the back of his neck with his shirtsleeve.
“Then think about the hot babe you’re hooking up with on New Year’s Eve,” Dean shot back smoothly. “And what she would do if you told her what happened tonight.”
Tory grimaced but said nothing.
Jamie gave Dean a piercing look and said, “I got some ammo if you guys need to reload. You spent quite a few bullets chasing down the little bastards.”
Dean smiled in genuine pleasure by the offer. “Thanks. That’d be great actually. We’re running low on funds.”
“Follow me.”
Jamie led Dean and Sam through a maze of corridors to a door that had not one but four locks. Jamie fumbled with a ring of keys before finding the right ones.
When he opened the door, Dean and Sam realized why the precautions were necessary. The entire room was lined with gun cabinets. Jamie opened the biggest one to reveal an impressive collection of armaments.
“Wow,” Dean said.
“Could we?” Sam asked politely, though his gaze was almost avaricious as he examined the stockpile.
“Sure, help yourself,” Jamie said, stepping back.
Sam only took two boxes of bullets but they were the most expensive kind. Meanwhile, Dean examined the other cabinets.
Jamie opened a footlocker half-hidden in a corner and pulled out a small wooden box.
“This should interest you,” Jamie said.
Sam took the box and opened it. His jaw opened in shock. “Oh my God,” he whispered. “Dean!”
“What?!” was the impatient reply.
Sam held up the open box. The contents were enough for Dean whose eyes widened noticeably.
“Holy shit,” Dean said. “Is that what I think it is?”
“I don’t know what you think but if the lore is correct, this gun’s able to kill monsters like the ones upstairs,” Jamie said. “Or, at least that’s what the dealer said when he sold it to me.”
Dean lifted the Colt and examined the weapon. “It’s just like ours, Sam.”
“I know,” Sam said. “And it still has its bullets.”
Dean counted them and grinned from ear to ear. “Thirteen. Got to love that.”
“You know what this means?” Sam asked, as his eyes fairly danced with happiness.
“We go hunting,” Dean said.
“That’s what I thought you’d say,” Jamie commented, smiling broadly as Sam.
“Are you sure you want to give it away?” Sam asked. “It must have cost a fortune.”
“Don’t worry about that,” Jamie answered. “Just do some good with it, okay?”
“We will,” Sam said fervently. “I swear.”
“So, my crew and I will be leaving now,” Jamie said. “I’m guessing you guys can clean up?”
“It’ll take us less than twenty minutes,” Dean said. “Thanks, a lot. Seriously.”
“A weapon like this will help us a great a deal,” Sam added.
“I figured it might,” Jamie said. He turned to leave when he looked back at them. “Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas to you, too,” Sam said.
“Have a safe holiday,” Dean added.
“Oh, I plan to.”
Jamie found Adam waiting for him at the parking lot along with Tory and Kari who were bookending a pale Grant.
“Let’s get out of here,” Jamie said. “The first round’s on me.”
“Tequila,” Tory said, “definitely tequila.”
“Everything okay, Jamie?” Adam asked.
“Everything’s fine. Let’s get out of here,” Jamie answered, and it took him only a moment to realize he wasn’t lying.
The End
Author's Notes:
I love Mythbusters almost as much as Dirty Jobs. Of course, this forces me to treat them with great irreverence whenever the possibility occurs.
Anyway, I hope you folks have a peaceful and merry holiday season, and I will see you on the flipside!