(no subject)

[hector-aframian.livejournal.com]

Dean hates Kansas.

Dean hates Metropolis. It's got no right sittin' there in the middle of Kansas, out of place as a fuckin' donkey at a ball. He knows America and he knows the roads and the highways and he fucking hates that this world's twisted them all around.

Dean hates Lawrence. Sammy's still there. And Dean's not going back.

Dean hates himself, too, for that.




A surefire cure for angry emo bitterness is beating the shit out of people, however, and fortunately there's a lot of shit going round. Suburbs of Metropolis, clubs, late at night, there's always some chick he can bail outta trouble. That way he gets to beat people up and then gets laid.



Presently, Dean is in a back alley, glaring at a guy on the ground who thought he'd drag some naive little chick into the mens' room even though she was fighting. Jerk. And worse, not even a tough jerk. Dean's not even breathing hard. Waste of a fucking fight.



Yeah ... Dean hates Metropolis.

Comments

[lecter-md-phd.livejournal.com]

(OOC: Bored!mun is bored, so . . .)

"It's good to see that I'm not the only one who can't stand that," says a man. He is older, and would look just like Anthony Hopkins if his eyes weren't that weird shade of red-brown.

[hector-aframian.livejournal.com]

"Yeah, yay you."

Dean gives the unconscious thug another kick, and turns to glare at the newcomer.

"What'd'you want?"

[lecter-md-phd.livejournal.com]

"Entertainment." He flashes a rather evil smile. "As do you, it seems."

[hector-aframian.livejournal.com]

"This is entertainment?"

Dean's still pissed off, still belligerent and angry.

"Well, aren't you the charming fellow."

[lecter-md-phd.livejournal.com]

"Seeing one of the vulgar little beasts get a bit of what he deserves? Yes, that's entertainment." He licks his lips. "He's still alive, though, which I'm not sure I approve of. Rape--the lowest of crimes."

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a knife. "I could finish it for you, if you like."

[hector-aframian.livejournal.com]

Dean blinks, slightly taken aback.

"... I'll be a'ight, man. He's still human."

You don't kill humans. Unless you have to.

[lecter-md-phd.livejournal.com]

You don't?

"And what of it?" Lecter does that head-tilt thing of his. "It's all meat, in the end.

"And those who would violate an innocent like that deserve to die." DeservetodiesoslowlyasIcutthem

[hector-aframian.livejournal.com]

Dean frowns at him, shoving his bleeding hands into his pockets and stepping back.

"Dude, anyone ever told you you look way too much like Anthony Hopkins t'do that without sounding fuck-off creepy?"

[lecter-md-phd.livejournal.com]

"To do what, exactly? And why is looking like this person important?" Head-tilt again.

[tobeclosetohim]

Jo's got a trash bag in one hand when she stops.

Copper eyes flit over the scene. Dean. Guy on the ground.

There's a soft 'huh,' amused or ironic its hard to tell, before she says, "Should I throw my trash in the dumpster before or after you?"

[hector-aframian.livejournal.com]

Dean glances up.

Jo.

Shit.

He gives the guy a final kick. "After. Definitely after."



"...what the hell're you doing here?"

[tobeclosetohim]

Jo's not quite sure whether to be further amused or begin her annoyance.

"Takin' out the trash for Stella over at Magaret's," she said nonchalantly, with a nod of her head back the way she came, where the small bar n' club was.

"Need help tossing him in or you got it?"

[hector-aframian.livejournal.com]

"I got it." He looks at the guy on the ground. The guy looks back, eyes wide, but doesn't bother protesting.

"...actually, I don't wanna get my hands dirty. Whyn'cha just chuck the trash on him and we'll leave it?"

[tobeclosetohim]

Jo shrugs.

She doesn't care enough about Metropolis or anywhere in this fucking hellhole to find fault with what she does next--which is to walk open, while slicing a large slit in the bag with a knife both quickly pulled out and hidden away and begin to pour the contents on the man.

After that, letting the bag fall on his stomach and legs she smiled, cheerily at the man.

"Be glad he didn't offer to let me stand here while he killed you."

[hector-aframian.livejournal.com]

Dean smirks and nods at the guy.

"Listen to the lady," he says brightly. "She knows what she's talkin' 'bout."

Not that he says it to Jo's face. Not that he's really looked her in the eyes at all yet. Doesn't even start when he's talking to her.

"Seriously, what are you doing here? Working in a bar?"

[tobeclosetohim]

That's pretty okay. Since she can't tell, because she's eying the pile of trash in front of them because it keeps her, conveniently, from looking at him.

"In the center of new society pretend center? Fuck no. Stopped in a few days ago to see what the fuss about the place was. Rather a big let down in comparison to the road."

You know. To ignored trauma hunting.

[hector-aframian.livejournal.com]

"Place pisses me off," Dean says, turning to leave the alley, hoping/expecting she'll follow. Or, knowing Jo, push in front.

"Shouldn't even be here."

[theresnodoor]

"...all I'm sayin' is, we should get t'know each other somewhere quieter, y'know? You like clubs, honey?"

It's a soft, wheedling voice, too honey-sweet, too forced to hide obvious excitement, and just outside the alley Dean's in.

"No? Okay, no clubs, but somewhere a little more private, y'know? I got a car back here somewhere, or I bet we could find a room, pretty little thing like you... honey?"

The voice is getting further away, footsteps a little faster.

"Oh, wanna play hard t'get, huh? Yeah, all right, we can play."

[hector-aframian.livejournal.com]

Two in one night.

Great.

Dean sighs, glaring at the guy on the ground, and then shrugs and shoves his hands in his pockets, nursing a split knuckle. If they're gonna fall into his lap, then shit, they're gonna fall into his lap.

(doesn't make him feel any better after, but during -- well, during a fight it's always OK.)

[theresnodoor]

"C'mon, baby, don't be like that... gotta tell me somethin', just one little word. Ah," he laughs, skeezy all over again, but the voice is getting further, and it's obvious by the time Dean comes out of his alley that the guy and whatever girl he's tailing have just ducked into another one.

"Guess this is private enough, huh? C'mon, sweetheart, lemme getta taste."

[hector-aframian.livejournal.com]

Oh, gross.

Dean sighs, flexing his knuckles, and heads into the alley.

"Dude, no. You don't wanna be doing that."

[theresnodoor]

"Buzz off, man," the guy growls, tall but skinny, greasy hair held back with a rubber band, glancing back at Dean with a scowl as he progresses on the blonde in front of him. "We're busy, a'ight?"

There's a noise behind him, like a balloon being blown up. The man frowns and turns back to the girl.

And screams, tearing out of the alley, while a voice calls [Aww, what's wrong, sweetheart?]


It isn't hard to see what the guy had screamed at either. The blonde hair is still there, long and silky, but the head is-- wrong, eyes taking up more than two-thirds of her head, broken into a million pieces of compounded blue, her lips merged together and protruding slightly like... like...

Like Rachel coming out of a creepy ass morph with a roll of her now-human eyes.

[hector-aframian.livejournal.com]

OH, fucking great.

Dean rolls his eyes too, and turns back to stomp out of the alley. Not only did he just get totally blocked from a fight he really fucking wants, but it had to be her catching him looking like a goody-goody prick?

Great.

[theresnodoor]

Aww, and they left on such good terms.

Actually, the last time she saw him was in that bar, surrounded by women.

Rachel scoffs softly and straightens her jacket before following him out of the alley.

[hector-aframian.livejournal.com]

"What?"

Dean glares at her, once they're back on the street.

"What now?"