InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "BAZINGA!"

Dean Winchester (hellsboy) wrote in vas_captio_rpg,
@ 2009-03-21 00:33:00

Entry tags:

!incomplete, day 01, dean winchester, location: gas station, the doctor (ten)

Day One
Who: Dean Winchester & The Doctor
What: Day One, waking up
When: Sometime during daylight hours, not sure because of the misty muck
Where: In the forest, nearest landmark: gas station/convenience store
Rating: TBA (language)
Status: Dropped

Dean woke with a start. He sat up too fast with a shout and nearly fell back down again as his mind fuzzed in and out dizzily. He wasn't sure at first what had happened. What had startled him awake. Then he noticed the ugly gray misty foggy mess that surrounded him. It was cold. His breath plumed out in a billow from his mouth when he gasped and rubbed his temples. The last thing he could remember was lying down to sleep on the hotel bed. Hadn't even bothered to take of his boots or his jacket. Just went to sleep staring up at the ceiling as the Johnnie Walker Blue Label sloshed nauseatingly on the nightsand in time to the rocking of a train passing too closely.

Groaning, Dean looked around. "Definitely too much to drink last night," he grumbled. It wasn't the first time he'd woken up in a strange place, but it was the first time it'd been out in the forest in the middle of nowhere. Patting his pockets, he felt for his gun. Lola should've been right there beside him but his sawed off double barelled shotgun was nowhere. What the hell was going on? He could not have wandered here while sleeping. No chance. Something wasn't right and he was pretty sure there was a demon behind it.

Unsteadily he got to his feet and turned a circle, looking around to get his bearings. "Hello? What the hell is going on?!" he shouted into the tree tops. Turning again, he noticed that he wasn't alone. Someone else was there in the forest with him. "Hey, buddy. I don't know what game you're playing but you better prepare yourself for a good asskicking."

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fromgallifrey
2009-04-13 04:49 pm UTC (link)

The Doctor had hardly bothered to listen to Dean's rambling about needing weapons for defense. He'd been around for ~~nine hundred and~~ many years and as of yet he'd hardly managed to find a situation where he just had to shoot something, or bang something, or hurt something. Well, so long as you don't count the time war anyway. This certainly was not the time war.

The forest floor was becoming increasingly sloppy beneath his trainers. It was cumbersome to move slowly, let alone fathom moving too quickly. The wind was picking up, making the trees sway a little - and it seemed to the Doctor that when he looked around he was being treated to a rather unique spectacle. "See that," he mumbled to himself, "The trees, the wind pattern..." He was noticing that while the wind seemed to be blowing in just one direction from their vantage point on the forest floor - if one looked up it was much more cyclonic - like water in a drain that got steeper as it went up.

Dean was persistent, the Doctor could appreciate that to a certain level. "Alright, what sort of plan do you have in mind? Can't say I'm all for banging people on the heads or anything, though." His hands shoved deep into his pockets where the lining was still dry. It'd stay dry in there even if he were submerged in water, he imagined. He really loved his pockets.

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hellsboy
2009-04-13 09:48 pm UTC (link)

He was all but being ignored and Dean was getting the idea that while he took the Doctor very seriously, the respect was not mutual. Which was a little annoying in this sort of situation when, from experience, Dean knew it was necessary to trust and be trusted in order to survive. He couldn't quite wrap his mind around how this man had looked into the heart of darkness or seen genocide from a vantage point of such safety that he hadn't needed any kind of weapons for protection and yet he'd been as deeply affected as Dean had picked up on in his tone when he spoke of it.

"Trees and wind?" Dean muttered under his breath and only glanced briefly upward. In the many years he'd been hunting, it was very rare that the trees or wind had much to do with whatever he was after. He wasn't about to discard the possibility that they were important but he was more focused on the fact that they were heading into uncharted territory unarmed and one of them seemed to be cycling between near-explosive anger (or was it just determination?) and childlike awe at an alarming rate.

"Listen, I'm not talking about going in guns blazing and banging people on the head. I'm just talking about having something to defend ourselves with in case someone wants to bang us on the head. I'm guessing they want us alive in here so we don't need a lot of muscle but we can't just go empty-handed into the forest either. Or do you have some sort of magic powers that will keep us safe all on their own?"

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fromgallifrey
2009-04-14 05:31 pm UTC (link)

Dean hadn't seemed to care about the wind. It was the scientist in the Doctor that obliged him to notice such things. Usually wind would come from a particular direction and then whip the treetops straight on. Instead, the wind seemed to be swirling above their heads - as if something impeded it's most direct movement.

"I'd imagine that before you got here you had an arsenal of weapons at your disposal, yes? It doesn't seem like they helped keep you from winding up here in the first place, yes?" The Doctor, of course, was implying that Dean probably had a gun or a knife or something on his immediate person before he wound up here; yet still here he was. "These people are stealthy, and perhaps armed with something more powerful than a gun or a tree branch."

The Doctor had long ago stopped moving, the rain falling thick on his brow as he squinted at his would be companion. Surveying him, the Doctor noticed that Dean seemed to be quite uncomfortable with just jumping in to the whole situation. The Time Lord was accustomed to just following his own compass and trusting his gut and his wit to get him through a given situation; perhaps Dean just wasn't used to that sort of thing. Though, Dean didn't strike him much the office type.

Looking away for an instant the Doctor squinted and tilted his head. "Do you see that?" A couple of hard blinks and the Doctor was quickly walking toward what appeared to be sparkles in the forest air. A few steps away the Doctor stopped short. "A glass wall..." He muttered, reaching out to touch the glass. The swirling wind made sense now.

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hellsboy
2009-04-16 09:53 pm UTC (link)

Dean shrugged and made a face. "I don't know if I'd call it an arsenal..." he began and then conceded, "Okay, yeah it was an arsenal. In my line of work you gotta be armed most of the time or you get eaten or dragged into some pit leading to hell or whatever. Why do I get the impression that you don't live in the same world I do? You don't get your hands dirty very often, do you?"

He sidestepped the Doctor and hopped over a tree root that had grown up out of the ground in a loop. He was wet from the rain and a little more than annoyed by the situation he had been thrown into by whoever it was that was orchestrating all of this. He was used to running the show and getting things done. With the Doctor refusing to take it seriously that they could be in danger enough to need something to defend themselves with, he was rendered ineffectual which sucked big time. He was restless and felt like a sitting duck. Two very bad things in combination for a Winchester.

Then the Doctor was on the move again and Dean rolled his eyes, huffing a sigh into the air in a billow of mist. "A glass wall?" he asked incredulously but he followed the Doctor, stopping closer to the barrier. With one hand he reached out his fingers toward the almost invisible wall. If it weren't for the rain drizzling down the glass he might not have seen it at all. Before he touched the glass though, he let his hand drop to his side. "This is crazy. Who's messed up mind came up with this and what is the point? Friends of yours, Doctor?"

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fromgallifrey
2009-04-19 07:02 pm UTC (link)

The Doctor, for all he was worth, didn't quickly respond to Deans confirmation of being a man of weaponry. It was something that he'd tried to become numb to - persons who depended so heavily on steel and fire to defend themselves. In the Doctor's experience of late, all it really might take are a few well placed words and perhaps a banana.

"My hands are always wrapped up in something," he said off handedly, still marvelling at the wall. It couldn't truly be glass - there was no frequency coming off of it as the wind pounded against it and when the Doctor placed his palm to it, he found it to feel incorrect. "I'd say we could try banging on it; but this isn't glass; well, not in the traditional sense." His mind was reeling with the idea of chemically engineered super glass - with molecules bound up in silicon and titanium. He'd seen prison cells made of them on Prados; stacked like icecubes that never melted, their occupants subject to the humiliation of never having privacy again.

"Friends of mine don't bother with prisons, Dean," he mumbled a bit, still trying to remember the frequency for shattering superglass. He should have known better then to become so dependent on his screwdriver for such things.

"We need to find something, something to generate an ultrasonic pulse," he muttered to himself scratching at his head, "If only I could remember the frequency, my brain is all full and jumbled and scattered. I'm old and thick, you know that?" He asked the wind as it howled by and the rain as it pattered on the backs of his hands.

"Thick, absolutely thick," he scrunched his eyes and pursed his lips, staring at the glass trying to remember. "I don't even know for certain what sort of glass this is..."

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