Sam Winchester (gradeafreak) wrote in papillonthreads, @ 2012-01-15 21:43:00 |
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Entry tags: | amy pond [spn] (1), dean winchester (1), sam winchester (1) |
WHO: Sam Campbell, Dean Winchester, and some NPC'd locals.
WHAT: A random act of violence hits a little too close to home.
WHEN: Monday morning; around 9AM then onward from there.
WHERE: The steps of the courthouse ;rarr the hospital.
RATING: TBD [probably a bit high due to violence and language]
STATUS: In Progress
In retrospect, Sam should have known something bad was going to happen. The client he had been representing didn't exactly have the best reputation. Sure, his family didn't have much money - hence the reason the guy had been assigned a public defender - but that didn't stop them from being known throughout Papillon as people who stopped at virtually nothing to have their way in pretty much all their dealings. And by stopped at virtually nothing, that included pesky little things like blackmail, assault, and even murder. So the minute the jury had delivered a guilty verdict on Friday afternoon, Sam really should have realized there would be repercussions. However he had hoped the fact that he'd managed to get the jury to come back on the lesser of the charges, thus sparing the guy a life in prison even if he really did deserve it, would be enough.
Clearly, he had been wrong.
Fortunately, the brother of his client did decide to bide his time and didn't make a move over the weekend. Later on, Sam would find himself grateful for that fact if only because he wouldn't have wanted to risk the safety of his wife and daughter, or anyone else in the little commune they were being forced to stay in currently. No, instead the only life he had to really worry about being in jeopardy was his own. And even then, the thought hadn't really crossed his mind until he was making his way up the steps of the courthouse and heard someone say his name.
Turning, the hustling, bustling crowd still moving at a hectic pace around him on their way to start the work week, it took him a moment to spot the person responsible for calling out to him. Recognizing the guy on sight, Sam hesitated as instinct screamed at him that something was very, very wrong. Still, he ignored his gut and tipped his head at his client's brother, offering him a respectful greeting of, "Good morning, Mr. Waters. What can I do for you?"
The guy didn't miss a beat, his beady eyes narrowing ever so slightly as he spit out a venomous, "You got my brother sent to prison, you son of a bitch. All you can do for me is die."
Then Sam heard a loud crack and felt something slam into him with enough force to send him stumbling backward. It wasn't until his knees gave out and he crashed to the ground, his briefcase flying in one direction and his coffee in another, that he realized something had happened. Sliding down a few stairs until finally he came to a stop, he distantly heard the screams of people nearby, along with the shouts of 'He's got a gun!' and 'Somebody stop him!' as his attacker began trying to shove his way through the onlookers in order to get away.
Raising up on his elbows as best he could, Sam peered almost in slow motion down his own torso to the bloody hole in his gut. The pain slammed into him a second later and he slumped backward, eyes staring in shock up at the sky and his hands opening and closing of their own accord as his brain tried desperately to make sense of what in the hell had just happened to him.