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Fandom Supernatural RP - Accepting Applications

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MACKENZIE



Mackenzie slowed her pace as they started to approach an area that felt off. The heat of the day was lifting - thankfully - but it still left her skin pinked and sticky. She wrinkled her nose as she swiftly became aware of the scent of blood in the air, leaving a metallic cloying taste in the back of her throat. It was human blood, she knew it well and could tell the difference, even if she wasn't anything but human herself.

As the clearing came into view her dark eyes flitted over the scene in the darkness, two figures locked together in some way but as the larger figure moved it was clear the sound of dripping thick blood puddling beneath him. She narrowed her eyes as lowered the bags she was carrying, softly almost soundlessly onto the ground beside her. As she stood again, she unsheathed her iron blade, gripping it tightly. She knew the person before them was entirely human, she couldn't sense them like she could Chase or Erik, that annoying buzz in the back of her skull, courtesy of being a prophet … a failed prophet.

Elijah immediately took the polite road, asking the alleged hunter for proof of what he was and Mac felt a growl in the back of her throat. She paused, momentarily confused hearing one coming from the wolf at her side as Chase slowly stalked aside, at least she wasn't the only one that felt hairs on her neck standing stiff.

They had no reason to trust that this stranger wasn't their target and they'd just caught him in the act of killing another person. Anti-possession tattoo or not - that didn't mean he wasn't the monster they were hunting for.



 
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Elijah’s request brought a grin to Gideon’s face, and he couldn’t help but let out a chuckle, as if the two were having drinks and chatting about having a night out - not standing over bloodied corpses.

“Wow, that is incredibly direct of you, sir.” He emphasized the word just enough to somehow make it a little lewd. Either he was entirely unphased by this turn of events, or this was his attempt to keep cool.

“Not many make that offer while we’re still in the blood and mud. Adventurous, aren’t you? Normally I like to be bought a drink or two first.” Despite the teasing, as he spoke he lowered his lantern to about hip level.

“I’m reaching for my shirt, not a weapon.” He cautioned, the same way one tells a police officer they’re reaching into a pocket for identification so they don’t get shot and wind up a story on the evening news. Grabbing onto his shirt with his free hand, he tugged it up, untucking his shirt and revealing his own anti-possession sigil tattooed low on his hip.

“See? Hunter. Just like you.” It was possibly a bit of a stretch to claim he was just like them, but he’d reach for it. Once he allowed sufficient time for them to all see it, he let go of his shirt and raised the lantern again.

“No need for the weapons to come out,” he commented, eyeballing both Eli and Mac’s blades, as well as their rather feral looking dog.

“I’ve taken care of this one - and I don’t intend to be a threat to you. If you’re angry about missing out on some kind of payment, you’re welcome to take whatever proof of kill you need. It’ll be our little secret.”


Safton Safton Crono Crono Alator Alator NanLia NanLia
 

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ELIJAH

Elijah gave the man a patient smile, shrugging as he took to his request in stride and with no small amount of return banter... but his eyes never left him and his grip on the sword at his side never slackened even as the stranger revealed the telltale ink upon his hip. It looked legitimate enough, but it was of course entirely possible that there were minor alterations which would render it entirely ineffective at its ostensible purpose of repelling demons which wouldn't be visible to Eli at his distance and in this darkness.

Even if that weren't the case, he knew well enough to know that there was plenty more than demons to be worried about. Hell, demons hadn't even topped his suspect list for potential culprits behind the killings inside the Park. A witch, one of Eve's Children, or something else more exotic -- none of them would be remotely inconvenienced by such a tattoo in the least... and might specifically opt for one specifically to throw hunters off their scent. It was a chilling thought.

Eli cocked his head as the man offered to let them take the alleged monster's head for a bounty. "That won't be necessary, thank you," he said, his tone dripping with polite charm -- as if a dinner host was offering to send him home with leftovers and he was declining with all the grace of a proper London socialite. "How did you hear about our... mutual friend here?" he asked, wondering what the mystery man would say and whether his version of events would be consistent with publicly-available information.

 
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GIDEON
“I should be asking you the very same question.” Gideon wiped his free hand on the side of his pants, then held his open palm out in a calming gesture. He kept his attention steadily on every person - and dog - in the group, leery of any one of them making a move while the disarmingly handsome one kept him busy talking.

“I’ve been tracking this nasty bitch across two states and several counties.” He motioned towards the severed head laying on the ground, its cold nose shoved against the dirt.

“I thought I lost her until late last night, I caught wind of campers going missing - then showing back up later, sans a few important organs. It fits her modus operandi, so I took a gamble and came here. The hardest damn part was finding where she was in this park. I clearly did not come dressed ready for a hike.” He notably did not state how, exactly, he caught wind of anything.

Gideon eyed Eli, then turned his attention to Mac, and finally down to the mutt. He made a bit of a face, as if he smelled something strong. He shifted his stance, extending his lantern a bit as he turned to the side, casting more light on the group of them.

“Interesting company you keep.” He tips his head in Chase’s direction, watching the dog, before returning his attention to Eli. "Its rare I run into other hunters. Now, does that allay your fears? Or am I going to be hauled off and tied up for questioning?” He smirked a little at the mention of being tied up. “Or are you going to help me burn the killer’s body, and call in an anonymous tip so our victims are found?”

NanLia NanLia Safton Safton Crono Crono Alator Alator
 

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MACKENZIE



Mackenzie's dark eyes flit over the alleged hunter as he described to Elijah just how he'd come to be here and now. It sounded sufficient, but she'd heard plenty of shit that sounded nice in the past that was far from the truth of it. She pointedly shifted to step ahead of Chase, the stranger seemed interested in their wolf and, if he were a hunter, she doubted he'd take kindly to the fact they were teamed up with a wolf. She counted on the ever-growing darkness to keep Chase's true identity concealed.

Something about what he finished with made the hair on the back of her neck stand. How did he not know there was a Sheriff already here? "You're on your own for clean up, company rule: we didn't make the mess, we're sure as fuck not about to clean it." Mac tilted her head to address Eli, speaking softer but she didn't have any fear of the stranger hearing her. "You need to cut off that Sheriff," She reached out and tapped his belt. "Use this like it's a leash, divert her away from here. Erik and I will take a long walk and meet you roadside."

She wasn't waiting for anyone to second guess her plan - they needed to get out cleanly. She'd thought the Sheriff would be easily handled much the way they'd come in but now? Not with this much blood and bodies right in line with where previous victims had been found. They needed a clean alibi. If they were caught here, she'd be headed for prison - debatable which country that would be in. Elijah would be deported, if he were lucky. Fuck knew what would happen to Chase and she wasn't certain Erik had the ability to keep his shit cool not to fry a cop trying to detain him.

She'd seen his father do far worse to an Angel far less threatening. Mac slid her knife home, turning to snatch up the duffles she had dropped just minutes before. It was at least an hour of trekking through the woods to get to the highway.



 
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Erik had kept pace with Mackenzie without much difficulty, the man hauling the bags he'd been handled as easily as though they were empty and hardly seemed to even be breathing heavily by the end of it. If he appeared to have the strength and endurance of an ox, he certainly appeared to be moving with the grace of one. The cracking of twigs echoed throughout the forest more than once as his feet sundered them, the young man wincing as he tried to avoid the intimidating redhead's ire. His eyes seemed to flash at the brutality of the kill, the shock of seeing the head removed with such leisure sending a cold shiver through his entire body. When he spoke, it was in an agitated voice that hardly concealed his anger he felt "Is the mutilation really necessary? Do we sink to their level?" The anger was reflected in the aura that the witch, Gideon, could perceive. It reared its head suddenly, the innate power awakening in response to the man's roiling emotions. Potent, it seemed at once mercurial and ancient, distinctly pagan should the hunter have encountered such previously. The taste of it was akin to thunder, rain, the steadfast strength of ancient oaks. Erik felt blood pounding through his head, an odd pressure in his chest even as something like an icy chill seemed to thunder through his veins. It was at once invigorating and terrifying, even as he grew acutely aware of his surroundings.

It was over as quickly as it had appeared when Erik reined it in, no outburst forthcoming. He resolved to hold his tounge and allow the senior hunters to do the talking, joining the ranks of Chase, who naturally could do no more than give a bark or at most a howl. As Mac gave new orders, he merely nodded in taciturn agreement.

Safton Safton NanLia NanLia Crono Crono Namazu Namazu
 

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ELIJAH

Elijah listened as the mystery man summed up his hunt for the supposed witch before turning his attention toward Chase... his very pointed attention with an equally pointed remark. Eli didn't doubt that the man was well aware of just what Chase was, but ignored the comment, instead arching an eyebrow as he suggested they assist in disposing of the witch's body and seeing to to its unfortunate victims.

He didn't have a chance to reply before Mackenzie stepped in with every ounce of her own personal "charm", prompting a smirk from Eli as he simply shrugged at the stranger as if to say "She's the boss."

As Mac turned toward him with another set of commands, he nodded, already sliding his sword back into its scabbard and returning it to the duffel for Erik's safekeeping before reaching down to unbuckle his belt. "See you soon," he murmured. He whipped the belt from his jeans' belt loops with a dramatic flair before gesturing deeper into the trees with his head. "C'mon, boy," he said, emphasizing the latter word as if he was speaking to his beloved golden retriever and knowing full well he'd catch hell for it later on. Truth was, he hadn't forgotten about the pool incident from earlier.

As Chase (perhaps somewhat reluctantly followed), Eli looped the heavy leather belt loosely around his neck and cinched it with only the most cursory of knots. "Lead me toward the cop," he said quietly for Chase's ears. "We'll act like I found you; give the others time to get clear."

*​
It didn't take as long as Eli imagined for them to find the deputy in question: a testament, perhaps, to both Chase's nose and the determination of the officer in tracking Elijah down that she had followed him so far into the woods. Chase had signaled him beforehand in his own way as they got close and Elijah gave a nod as he made a show of "stumbling" through a patch of foliage, pulled along by his dog.

"Barkley! Would you just-- Oh, hullo, officer!" Eli said, his tone breathless as he looked up at the deputy. "I found him!"

The woman stared at him, dumbfounded. She shined the beam of her light on Eli, then Chase, then the "leash". Her lips pursed, clearly dismayed by both the belt as well as the sheer size of the canine it was attached to.

"Oh, that. Yeah, had to improvise," Eli said smoothly. "This big old scamp has given me a run for my money, I must say," he said with a chuckle, reaching down to emphasize the point by giving Chase several pats against the side of his belly. "Haven't you, Barkley? Went for a little midnight run, yeah?" he said, his tone lapsing into baby-talk.

The officer shook her head with a sigh. "Sir, if you've got him, we need to go. Follow me out and keep him under control, okay?"

Eli grinned. "No problem, officer. Thanks for coming after us." The woman turned and he looked down to share a wink with the wolf before following.

 

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CHASE

Chase noticed Erik's outburst, and couldn't help but give it a second thought. The rest of them hadn't seemed phased by it, and briefly he wondered if they'd just become so desensitized to it. The Wolfs growling only audibly intensified when the hunter had singled him out temporarily. For a moment Chase thought things were going to escalate, if the hunter had figured out that he was a Werewolf. Luckily Mac had seemingly diffused and disengaged them from the situation by telling the hunter he was on his own, and handing out the orders to leave. Chase's growling soon ceased but he kept his eyes on the hunter until they'd moved out of sight. Only grunting when Eli called to him like a dog.

The walk through the park was far more forward for Chase than before, his body language tense, expecting the other shoe to drop. Still, once he'd caught the scent of the Sheriff he led Eli to her, only vaguely listening to the conversation. A chuff of a grunt at the name Barkley, chalking it up to Eli's terrible naming skills rather than an attempted tease or insult. His ears kept listening to their surroundings. Though he did make sure to do the panting and tongue lolling to play the part of the family pooch. Though he was caught off guard by the belly pats, tilting his head at Eli in a motion to eye him and let him know he was reaching on thin ice. The temptation to hike a leg up and relieve himself on Eli's leg was present.

The wolf went along with the two humans, still a bit on edge. And only playing the part of the dog whenever the Sheriff would look back or shine the flashlight towards them. When they reached the parking lot, Chase made sure to b-line for the truck, pulling on the makeshift leash towards the truck, to make sure Elijah knew he wanted to be inside while the man dealt with the Sheriff. Not only did Chase want to be out of sight but also shift and get his clothes back on. Luckily the man opened the door and up Chase went into the back seat. Still he was patient as he peered out of the tinted window, giving it a bit before he started his shift. The sounds of bones breaking and reforming until he was back in his human form, afterwards he glanced around for the clothes he'd thrown back into the truck. Only to realize they were missing. "Great." He said flatly, knowing Mac and Erik also had his bag with clothes in them as well. The man just slid over into his seat, crossing his legs modestly. Glancing back out of the window he hoped the Sheriff wouldn't be inclined to do a search of the truck now, before he could have just passed the excuse he wasn't getting out at the national park, but he couldn't exactly think of a good excuse as to why he was naked and in the truck.

When Elijah eventually climbed into the truck himself Chase took the initiative before the man could say anything, "They stole all of my clothes." He said simply.



 
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GIDEON
Gideon harrumphed at the way his offer to play nice was rebuked. Typical. This was exactly why he rarely, if ever, worked with another hunter. Everybody had their own rules, and rarely did those rules lend themselves to working well together as a team. Not that he was any different, though he’d never admit if he himself was the problem.

“No desire to make sure the bodies of the innocent get found, hm? Fine then, I’ll see to it myself. Be sure to read about this in the paper in a day or two. Maybe you’ll lay some flowers at the memorial, wherever it springs up. That’d be nice.”

Gideon didn’t actually think the guilt-tripping would work, but that was fine. He was plenty happy to have this lot out of his hair so he could get back to work. The talk of a sheriff made him frown, but all that meant was he needed to work more quickly than usual. It was a near guarantee that the bodies would be found eventually as long as they were not hidden.

Fully content to simply watch the group leave without any further exchanges, he could not help but raise an eyebrow at the little outburst from Erik. Not just the verbal outburst either, but the whole of it - it was impossible not to notice that suspicious aura.

“Yes, it was necessary. It’s not worth the risk that the kill not be complete.” He didn’t elaborate further - not without knowing what this group’s deal was, anyway… or who and what they were. Even if Erik was larger than him, Gideon stared him down with an unwavering gaze, simply waiting for him to walk away with the others.

~*~​

Gideon made quick work of cleaning up - and setting up - the scene after the group left him. He always worked quicker alone, anyway. Nobody to give direction to, nobody who needed things explained to them in order to do it right. The bodies of the victims were pulled out of the grave, and the witch’s body rolled into it instead. After a good dose of gasoline and a spark, Gideon let the body burn at the bottom of the pit while he carefully arranged the victim’s bodies in a scene that resembled a grisly murder and a butchering to remove organs.

He had set up enough crime scenes in his life to know what worked.

Once the witch’s body was sufficiently destroyed, he filled the hole - burying the corpse - and planted a ratty one-person tent on top of it. The tent was not his own; he’d taken it from a homeless man he found dead in an alley in Phoenix. He figured he’d need it someday. Today was that day. Now it looked like whoever did this had been hiding out in the wilderness. Gone by the time the police showed up, of course, so the manhunt would continue… but that wasn’t Gideon’s problem.

Scene properly arranged, Gideon stood back a moment to admire his work, nodding in approval.

“Art.” He commented quietly to himself. With the subtlest of motions, the drying blood on his clothes and skin was pulled off by an invisible force. He admired it as it hung in the air for a moment, in a vaguely humanoid shape, before crumbling to the ground and disappearing. Grinning to himself, now clean and free of blood, Gideon picked up his gear and started the hike back to his vehicle, hidden off the beaten path among the brush.

~*~​

Gideon expertly navigated his precious black BMW i7 into the pothole-riddled parking lot of the Mountaineer’s Inn, doing his damndest to avoid each and every hole in the darkness. He managed, somehow, to avoid them all and finally slid into a parking space and put the vehicle into park - only to feel the vehicle tilt ever so slightly as the bituminous surface buckled underneath one tire.

“Son of a bitch.” He uttered quietly as he exhaled, leaning his head back against the headrest and closing his eyes for a moment. He had been so, so close. Slowly climbing out of his vehicle, Gideon took in the sight of the inn before him. He exhaled heavily.

It would have to do.
 

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ELIJAH

Elijah followed the deputy back toward the road, resisting the urge to grin to himself at having temporarily "one-upped" Chase in their eternal battle of pranks and subtle jabs. Once they emerged from the dark, looming canopy of the woods and back into the lot, Eli mimed took a deep sigh of relief. "I'll get this miscreant back to the truck," he said with a smile, leading Chase over to the vehicle in question and opening the door for him. "Do your thing," he murmured before shutting the door.

Eli then rounded the truck to return to the deputy, making sure to casually walk past her and stand in the direction of her cruiser so that she would have to look in the opposite direction of the truck in order to speak to him... and also giving Eli a reason to periodically glance over her shoulder to make sure that Chase had finished shifting and dressing. As he did so, he made small talk with her: thanking her for her help, mentioning how he was vacationing in the area, the works. He could tell the woman was rapidly losing patience with him, his vaunted charm be damned. Once he was satisfied that Chase was done, Eli bid the officer a goodnight and bid a hasty retreat with what scraps remained of his dignity, the woman calling after him to drive safe.

Eli pulled the driver's side door open and climbing in, firing up the vehicle before glancing into the back seat... only to be greeted with the sight of a very nude Chase ducking out of sight. He frowned, opening his mouth to speak and question what on Earth was going on when he realized: his clothes were... indisposed. Immediately the Brit let out a deep chuckle. "Not so fun, is it?" he teased, putting the truck in reverse before backing out onto the highway to roll slowly out of sight of the deputy and in search of their companions who would be emerging out of the treeline just up the the road. "C'mon, Barkley. Let's go get you dressed."



 

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MACKENZIE



Mackenzie did not react to Erik's outburst, it was a very normal human reaction when seeing such a scene for the first time. Though Erik was not a normal human, not entirely. She was keenly aware of the power behind his outburst, like a sudden bright heat in the back of her skull, telling her just where he was. It was an innate ability of being a prophet - a failed prophet and it told her all she needed to know about the alleged hunter they'd encountered.


The stranger in the darkness hadn't set off any alarm bells in her brain, he was something she could kill without concerns, if necessary.


As they traveled through the wooded park in the direction of the highway, Mac kept quiet until she was certain they were far enough away not to be overheard. "You need to rein that shit in." She said calmly, without emotion, despite the cursing. "You're here to learn, not just how to hunt but how to keep your own ass safe and giving strangers shit in the woods like that isn't it."


She glanced over her shoulder as they came to the roadside, dropping the bags as Erik caught up with her. "There are god-killing beings out there and now, thanks to them, most hunters know how to trap gods, at the very least. You are not safe pulling that shit." She could see the black truck pulling out of the lot down the road and cut her sermin short. "We'll deal with it tomorrow, say nothing to them." She knew neither Eli or Chase could have picked up on what Erik had done, and she was hoping the stranger couldn't either.


As the truck rolled to a stop, Mac headed around the back to toss their bags into the bed when the window in the back seat rolled down, just enough to reveal Chase and his bare shoulders. She paused, frowning, then dug out the clothes she'd collected from the seat and tossed them through the open window.


With the bags packed away she returned to the passenger seat, pointedly keeping her sight away from the back seat as she could only assume Chase was in the middle of dressing himself. She paused as he spotted Elijah's telltale smirk. "Did you enjoy yourself?" She asked, closing the door behind her. "



 
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BRODY​



Brody hated office duty.

It was slow and boring and all that much worse when Addy and Morgan were on a date together and he was stuck here. Their odd trio relationship often meant one of them was sitting around and whilst that worked out well for the Inn, giving the full-time staff time off, it meant the third sat alone and bored. (Okay, so maybe both Morgan and Addy had hobbies or additional work to occupy their time but he did not, at least not one he wanted commentary on.)

And so he sat, bored and alone, scrolling on his phone in the motel office, waiting for the girls to come back when a car he did not recognize pulled up. He sighed and sat up, waiting for the would-be patron to step into the office and the moment he did so Brody could feel the hairs on the back of his neck rise.

He smelt like blood … recent blood and the chemicals and soaps and cleaners one would use to remove the stains of blood and possibly the scent of it. It wasn't an uncommon scent for the people of the Inn but it was for newly arrived patrons. "Late night." Brody attempted to put on the customer service voice Addy was desperately trying to teach him. Kindness and pleasant tones did not come naturally. "You looking for a room with a kitchen? Or just a bed for tonight?"



 
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Stowing his keys in his pocket, Gideon rounded the back of his vehicle and popped open the trunk. Inside sat an expensive piece of dark red luggage with black piping, well-cared for but also well-used. Name brand designer, most likely. It was fairly large, and the kind with wheels on the bottom and a pull-handle on the top. Setting it on the ground, he extended the handle with a click-click of thick plastic. Pausing momentarily to grab his suit coat out of the back seat, draping it over his arm, he closed up the trunk and car door and wheeled his way up to the front entrance of the motel.

Gideon fully expected to be greeted by a cheery little bell jingling from the door, and an old man who smelled crusty at the front desk. Or maybe a bored teenager that would snap her gum at him. He was pleasantly surprised he was met with neither of these things. Quite the opposite, actually - a surprisingly handsome man with some manners.

Refreshing.

Approaching the front counter, he rested one palm on the surface and leaned casually aside, offering Brody a wide smile.

“Hi there. A room with a kitchen would be great, if you have one. Queen sized bed, preferably. Put me down for four nights, though I may need to extend that stay. Work can be unpredictable.” His request rolled out naturally, as if he’s checked into hundreds of motels before. He looked Brody up and down, appraisingly.

“Busy night?” He glanced around the front room, taking in what passed as décor.

“It’s so…” Abhorrent. Run down. Tacky. Trailer-park flavored. A wanna-be chalet on a shoe-string budget. A typical example of a flyover state’s two-star motel. It didn’t even earn three stars in Gideon’s book, because this wasn’t the sort of place that charged by the hour and had a strip joint or good bar nearby for easy pickings.

“Quaint.” He flashed Brody a smile while internally screaming. He took a deep breath. It smelled like sadness, disappointment, regret, yellowed fabric, plastic, cheap cigarettes, wet dog, and something not quite human. No, no, that wasn’t wet dog. Werewolves? He didn’t need to be a hunter or a witch to pick up on some of those smells, but the last two stood out and made his skin tingle. He slid his tongue over his teeth and peered around, rubbing his fingers together atop the counter - something that would surely look like idle fidgeting.

In truth, he was trying to feel out the number of heartbeats around the building. Some were large and strong, others smaller.

Oh Christ, that meant children were here too.

Was his Benefactor trying to punish him? Had he done something wrong? He silently vowed they would be having a chat about this later.

NanLia NanLia Safton Safton
 

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CHASE

Chase had groaned from the backseat at the name being used once again, "Could you have picked a worse name for a dog? I'm surprised she didn't even give you shit for it." His words shifted from annoyed to amused, "Especially given how hard you struck out." Despite his mild discomfort in the backseat while naked, he wasn't about to ignore the name Barkley.

As the vehicle drove slow, he kept his eyes peeled for Mac and Erik. "There." He'd told Eli when spotting them, knowing the man was half-occupied with driving. Chase lowered the window as they neared a hand quickly taking the clothes Mac handed him, and raised himself up in the seat to start pulling his underwear and shorts on whilst the two climbed in. "Absolutely. He'd replied to Mac's question with a grumble, as he pulled the shirt over his head. Once again the Werewolf was clothed. "Maybe next time we don't take both sets of my clothes though?" His words were more light, lacking any sort of venom. He slapped his hand against the side of her seat to let them know he was finished.

"So that guy," Chase offered to start off the inevitable conversation. His mind flashing back to the scene they'd stumbled upon for a moment. "No normal human could have done what he did so easily. Way too much blood in the area but as far as my nose could tell he didn't smell of any supernatural creatures. That area was charged with magic though." Chase's body gave a small involuntary shudder when reminiscing on the charge in the air.



 

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ELIJAH

Elijah grinned at Chase's remark -- both about his chosen name for his canine alter ego and about him having struck out. However, he quickly hid the expression in order to feign rolling his eyes in exasperation. "Pfft. I had her right where I wanted her. I was wearing her down, you see. Playing the long game. Trust me," he said with the utmost confidence. Luckily, before Chase could call him out on his obvious lie, the wolf spotted their companions at the roadside just ahead.

Eli brought the truck to a stop and waited as Mac and Erik piled in. Once they were settled, he pulled back onto the road, checking the rear view mirror throughly to ensure they weren't followed. Once he was satisfied he glanced over at Mackenzie -- opening his mouth to reply -- when Chase spoke up instead from the back seat. He settled for letting his self-satisfied smile deepen as he chuckled and turn back to the road. He suspected Mac was well aware that he would have spent the walk back to retrieve the truck torturing Chase as much as possible -- and enjoying every second of it. The fact that it ended with Chase having to beg her for his clothes back was just icing on the cake.

"A witch, then?" Eli suggested. Most creatures of Eve and demons would give off a distinct scent -- he knew that much from previous conversations with the wolves. "Failing that, he could be some kind of pagan: god or demigod... or even a fairy I suppose. I didn't really get that vibe from him, though."


 

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BRODY​



Brody’s upper lip twitched as the word Quaint drifted off the stranger's lips. Who the fuck is this guy? He didn’t have time to dwell, mostly because he didn’t want to keep this man's attention for too long. He knew he didn’t have much of a poker face when it came to unknowns and the longer he was in this guy's presence the more obvious it would become that Brody was suspicious.

“Gotcha, kitchenette. That lands you a ground-floor unit, I’ll give you a room away from some of the other guests here with kids, it’ll be … quieter.” And safer for you… He swiftly calculated the total for the night and turned the payment machine toward the guest. “If you’re staying longer, let anyone in the office know and we’ll set you up.” Whilst Gideon went about completing his payment, Brody removed a sheet of photocopied paper, a line drawing of the floor plan for the motel property. He set it on the desk between them.

He pointed to the only other door in the office, “The restaurant opens at 7 AM, and breakfast is served until 9 AM. Sandwiches and pastries can be bought throughout the day and dinner is served around 7 PM. It’s family style: whatever the cook decides that day.”

Brody tapped the various locations on the map as he continued. “Pool’s open, but no lifeguards. That’s your own risk. Mechanic’s in, if you need it. Laundry out back - coin wash but there is a machine to exchange either bills or credit. Cable is finicky out this far from town but there’s wifi - the passcode is in your room. Need anything for tonight? Toiletries and whatnot?”



 

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MACKENZIE



Mackenzie listened as Chase spoke, eyes focused on the road and mirrors, looking for any sign they were being followed by either the stranger or the sheriff - neither would be a welcome encounter. She had the suspicion the man holding the severed head was more and simply human but hadn’t seen or felt anything that would indicate otherwise. Spellwork could have been at play to do what he did and seemed more likely that him being something else in disguise.

Elijah offered his suggestion that it could have been a pagan god or demi but Mac swiftly shook her head, dismissing the idea. “Unless he’s heavily warded he’s entirely human, he didn’t trip any alarm bells.” She wondered if they had encountered something in a supernatural way if Will would have ended up present again. He’d done so in the past, despite not really knowing how he’d done it.

“We’ll have to enlist Addy. She’s told me a bit about the witches council and, from what I understand, they keep close tabs on their members and closer tabs on anyone they’ve encountered they suspect of being a borrower. He’d have to be pretty powerful to tear the head off of another being. So either they know who he is, or they need to know.” She wasn’t enthusiastic about the idea of the witch's council being involved in their Inn, less so because she doubted they knew about her experimenting. “I’ll update her in the morning, nothing more we can do right now.”



 
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A few intense moments had passed as he refused to recoil from Gideon's gaze, his jaw muscles working, before he stepped away at Mac's behest and later endured her words with a subdued air. Deciding against debating with Mac, her scolding had elicited a swallow and a nod from the young man. The sick, burning feeling in his gut not abating as they sat themselves into the car. Something about the dark-eyed hunter, perhaps his callousness in the face of such violence, caused blood to thunder in the man's ears. It was as though something was coiling within him, Erik's hands twisting slightly as he stared out of the window. Was it normal for hunters to be so blasé about mutilation and dismemberment? Perhaps it was, he was certainly in no postion to tell. Staying true to his word, he betrayed nothing of what had happened to Elijah or Chase, though it was all too obvious that he still appeared revolted by what he believed to be the enjoyment that Gideon seemed to have drawn from it. In the end, he couldn't keep all his questions to himself, and asked one.

"Is his type... Normal? For hunters, I mean."

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CHASE

Chase listened as the other two hunters chimed in on the thought of the stranger. It made sense that the guy was a Witch he supposed. In the back of his mind however, Chase was already thinking back to the encounter unsure if the man had deduced that a Werewolf had been present or not. Already he was thinking of the possibility of that becoming a problem. "Morgan, Brody, and I should probably steer clear of the park and surrounding area for a while, we'll need to find somewhere else to run." He said whilst in his own head. Both because of the recent incidents as well as a strange hunter possibly being onto a Werewolf in the area.

The words spoken by their mostly quiet member brought Chase back to focus, turning his head at the question to look at Erik. "Normal? Not really, but it depends on who you ask." The man shrugged as he leaned back in the seat with a huff. "Not exactly uncommon though. Few Hunters claim to be anything but monster killers, and there are many don't care how it gets done." Chase knew he himself was one of them, wasn't exactly easy to Finesse as a Werewolf to begin with.



 
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Gideon exhaled with relief, hearing he’d be placed away from any rooms with children. The last thing he wanted was to be woken up at the crack of dawn hearing spawnlings shrieking. He was already taking out his wallet and flipping it open to select a card when Brody turned the payment machine towards him. He slid the card through, tapped all the various prompts that came up, signed his name with the little plastic pen, and turned it back to Brody when he was done. If there was any prompt for leaving a tip, he tipped well.

The quaint little motel now had some kind of name to attach to him. Not that it was real or anything - the name on the credit card was David P. Benson. An entirely valid credit card, of course, which would raise no red flags in any system, and certainly not with such a mild average American name like that. It came up with an Oklahoma address. He even had false identification to match it.

He did not miss that upper-lip-twitch, faint as it might have been. Reading people was part of his job, and he liked to think he was quite good at it. Not just the bloody parts, either. Apparently what he said got a little rise out of him. This was silently noted and filed away for later. Peering down at the floorplan, he studied it quickly, trying to commit it all to memory - and not just the highlights that Brody pointed out.

“Family style sounds lovely,” he lightly complimented off-hand. He had no idea what ‘family-style’ actually meant. His family, back when he sort of had one, rarely shared a meal at the same table at the same time. Whatever this place did serve it was unlikely to be something that suited his tastes.

“Ah, no thank you, I have what I need - though, do you have any restaurant recommendations in the nearby area? Or even a good burger? I’m from out of state.” It had been a long night. He could eat a horse at this point.

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BRODY​



Brody finished up the payment process, setting the receipt aside; he’ll trust Morgan or Ash to do some sleuth work later on the details. “Thank you, Mr. Benson.” He set the machine aside as he considered the next question.

“Closest place is at least an hour out of here and probably closed at this hour.” He nodded towards the restaurant. “Feel free to grab something from the display fridge, on the house.”

Brody waited for Mr. Benson to make his selection and then watched as their guest headed to his room. It wasn’t until the stranger was in his room before Brody closed up the motel office and left the after-hours service number for anyone else who might wander in.



 

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MACKENZIE



Mackenzie remained silent as Erik questioned the actions of the stranger’s methods and his casual behaviour toward the deceased. She didn’t have an answer, well … at least not one that Erik wouldn’t be further upset with. Thinking back on the scene they’d come across, Mac hadn’t even blinked at the blood and gore. It hadn’t been a consideration, other than how long it would take to clean up. She listened to Chase reply, thankful someone had but she wondered just how much of her history he’d learned whilst spending time in her former home and with the pack. The same pack that called her a monster.

She wondered what Erik would do, should he learn the truth of her past and true nature. Would he try and burn her to death, like she’d watched his father do to countless others? She sighed. [I[All the more reason to keep that bronze blade handy.[/I]

Thankfully the conversation petered out for the remainder of the ride back to the motel and at arrival, Mac slipped out of the vehicle and returned to her home without a word.

***​

The following morning Mac rose well before sunrise. She collected Skye from her bed and changed her before tucking her back into bed with Will, giving both a quick kiss before heading out the door and for the restaurant to open for the day.



 
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Craving solitude and wishing to work through the emotions that roiled within him, Erik sought to handle it the way he always had, the exertion and pain of striking a sack that weighed as much as a person. He knew that, at least for the mortals, those not born as abnormalities, it was a way to harden the body and mind as much as technique. Bones were worn down by incessant strikes, only to heal, stronger. As he had aged, and his strength had developed, it had become increasingly difficult for him to exert himself. He cared little about that much now, something needed to explode out of him, and it was better aimed at an inanimate object, as opposed to some obnoxious trucker. Bidding farewell to the others, the young man had prowled the basement until he found their impromptu gym, the heavy punching bag that had been affixed to the ceiling with metal chains. Throwing off his jacket, he approached it, not even bothering to put on gloves. The air was cool down there, reeking of stale sweat, metal and plaster. He was alone.

The first blows came tenatively, the young man throwing a few half-hearted jabs and crosses to ease himself into the exercise, the words of his old boxing coach about keeping his chin tucked and hands up forcing themselves into the forefront of his mind. Soon, he began to lean into the punches, exploding into rapid combinations. Jab, cross, left hook, an uppercut to the body... His bare hands impacted the bag, coming away red and bruised though no blood was drawn. Slowly, he began to give into the fury that had stirred within him, attempting to purge the memory of the horrid scene and all the confusion he had felt over the last weeks. He struck again, and again. His hands impacted the heavy bag with such force that it sounded like gunshots that echoed in the empty gym, sweat beginning to trickle down his neck even as his muscles seemed to cry out in ectasy from the intensive exercise. He allowed all his negative emotions he had carried with him in the car to bubble up to the surface, visualising that he was purging them from his body as though they were something toxic that followed the sweat as it was expelled.

With a savage snarl, he loaded up with a straight cross, drawing power from his legs as he leant into the blow. The tortured bolts that had held the bag affixed to the ceiling came free, the screws spilling down with a clatter onto the floor even as the heavy bag was sent flying, careening into an adjascent wall with the force of a person having been hurled against it. Erik gazed down at his hands, there was no blood, that was good. Less so was the fact that he now needed to repair the accursed thing. In a winded voice, he spoke a word that gave vent to the sum of his emotions at that moment. "Shit..."


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“Display fridge it is, then. Thanks.” Gideon gathered up his things and wheeled away from the front desk, heading out in the direction of the little motel's restaurant. God, a display fridge? They had floor model sandwiches or something? From what year?

Letting himself into the restaurant, he was at least relieved that it didn’t smell and there were no visible rodents. He found the display fridge and studied the contents. It wasn’t as awful as he feared. No visible mold. He studied the selection and ultimately settled on a wrapped sub sandwich and a small side salad that didn’t look wilted, carefully checking the expiration dates. He also treated himself to a bag of chips, candy bar, and bottle of water from a vending machine he located. At least he didn’t need to fight with that - it eagerly took his crisp, new dollar bills and pocket change.

Finally approaching the door to his room, he paused a moment and looked each way, then over his shoulder, just making sure nobody - and nothing - was following him. Once the door was unlocked, he cautiously entered it, turning on the lights as soon as the switch could be reached and locking the door behind him. He did a sweep of the full suite, including the bathroom, before letting out a relieved breath. Safe enough. One could never be too lax.

Closing the curtains, Gideon visited the bathroom first to wash up, slid off his shoes, and then plopped himself on the end of his bed. He channel surfed while he ate - the sandwich was admittedly not bad - though didn’t really pay attention to anything on the screen. There was not much of a selection as far as television was concerned. He caught the tail end of a late night comedy show, then changed channels when it turned into a long QVC home shopping segment. Finally, without much else to look at, he wound up watching the automated weather channel - turning the volume almost all the way down. He just needed something to look at, it didn’t matter much what it was. Unsurprisingly, the weather report was: heat, with a chance of heat. And tomorrow, more heat. This weekend? Heat.

Once he was done eating - he saved the candy bar for later - he slid off the bed and dug through his suitcase, taking out everything he’d need to keep in the bathroom - which was plenty. Call him a vain bastard, but he had a certain image to maintain.

One shower later - which was as long as the warm water would hold out - he plugged in his cell phone to charge, pulled out his laptop, and crawled into bed in just his boxers. He had some investigating to do before sleep could come.

* * *​

Gideon awoke at exactly 5:25 A.M. the next morning thanks to the incessant buzzing of the alarm on his cell phone, which made the entire wobbly nightstand rattle. He reached over, eyes still closed, to grab it to shut it off but only succeeded in knocking it to the floor.

He sighed, rolled onto his stomach, and shoved his head under his pillow for another minute or two until he was ready to move again. Morning came far too early. Maybe he should have taken the day off to lounge. Every hunter deserved at least a day or two after a success to sit around, relax, get drunk, have fun, and stare at the clouds, right?

After another shower (this desert weather was not kind to him), a generous application of deodorant, light application of cologne (something musky and tantalizing), and sufficient attention spent on his hair (perfection), Gideon dressed in a lightweight light-green shirt and jeans (designer, never anything less), slid on his shoes (the belt matches, of course) and packed his laptop up inside a locked case. He was craving breakfast, and was sincerely hoping they had waffles with copious amounts of syrup and fruit.

It was 7:30 A.M. by the time Gideon made it into the restaurant. He was once more comparing it to the various upscale hotels he’d visited in his life. True, not every job landed him in someplace fancy - especially when he had to hunt something out in the rural areas - but it was rare he stayed in anything that applied the term “motel” to its premises. Previously, the lowest-end place he ever stayed was a two-star Doubletree with terrible service, but only because the better hotels were already booked up thanks to a two-day medical convention taking place nearby. On the upside, he did hook up with an incredibly attractive doctor that evening and wound up sleeping in a much better suite. He still had the guy’s phone number, too. One never knows when a job will lead him back to Oregon, after all.

Gideon was lost in thought enough that he almost didn’t notice - but he was sure glad he did. She had her back turned to him, busy with something, but that mane of red hair was impossible to notice. As soon as she turned, Gideon confirmed his fear-slash-suspicion-slash-curiosity: It was the woman from last night in the woods. The one that would have seemed happy to kill him on the spot.

Damnit.
 

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MACKENZIE



Mackenzie spent much of the morning preparing for the day, getting anything and everything she could make ahead so she could spend time doing what she wanted to do: focusing on the failed hunt from the night before. As she chopped, cooked and refrigerated in the kitchen she continuously thought back on the scene for any details she might have missed in the night. There were a few things she knew she could call on Addy to help her with, primarily determining if the man was a witch and then which type of witch they were detailing with.

She prepped several to-go meals and packaged them in tin containers to set out front for anyone who didn’t want to participate in group meals. She brought them out into the restaurant to set into the display when she heard the bell chime above the door notifying her that someone had come in. Since they hadn’t called her name or openly greeted her, she knew it was a guest and not a friend.

Setting the packaged meals away, Mac grabbed a laminated menu and turned to greet their guest …

And stopped in her tracks as she faced down the man from the night before. She had seconds to consider options. She was alone in the restaurant and would likely be for at least a little while. She could kill him and clean it up before anyone else knew, but if he were a witch she was ill-prepared. Instead, she did the only thing that made sense.

She plastered a toothy smile on her face and waved him to sit. “If y’don’t mind company sit at the table in the middle, hon.” She offered, in her best southern drawl. “Otherwise take a seat in a booth if ye want some peace. I’ll bring up a menu and a coffee.”

Mackenzie turned to the coffee machine, thankful it was still brewing and giving her a few seconds so that she could fish her cell phone out of her pocket and type out a text to the group chat.

911. Restaurant. Now.



 

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