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10/11/2018 01:56 PM 

On the Hunt

On the Hunt Sam Winchester.www.roleplayer.me/fly_2_the_angels
Lebanon, KS
Men of Letters Bunker
Two days ago

Picking up the torch was something that Sam Winchester had learned to specialize in over the years.   When his father John died at the hands of  one of the Princes of Hell, all the running and fighting he’d done as a child seemed to melt away.  He had no choice.  Everything he’d learned about hunting as a child all came back to the forefront.  Dean had been actively hunting at their father’s side while Sam was college bound at Stanford.   The day he saw his father laying there on the ground, Sam moved into what Dean would call his rightful place in the Family Business.  It wasn’t without it’s trials and tribulations. The roller coaster ride of the Winchester Brothers being names that struck fear into the hearts of monsters had gone on for longer than most hunters spent in the business.  Fourteen years was a long time in the lifespan of any given hunter.

Sam moved forward into the inner recesses of the Men of Letters Bunker.  Taking up the mantle of leadership thrust upon him, Sam had gone to great lengths to establish a headquarters for the Hunters of North America.  It was hub that Bobby Singer, his Bobby would have been proud to see.   Sam had become a leading occultist and lore librarian over the time that they’d been in the supernatural mother load.    He didn’t do much active hunting in the field lately but that urge to get out there on the road again was starting to gnaw at him.   He took a seat at the war room table.  His laptop was already there powered up and waiting for him.   He immediately rested his extended digits over the keyboard.  He was supposed to be researching the latest patterns of migratory fowl for one of his hunters that was up in Montana.   Instead, his need to get out of these walls pulled at him.   He was searching for a case.

It didn’t take him long to find something that was staring back at him.  A strip club in Las Vegas had been the scene of a massive murder spree.  A happily married man had simply just lost his mind and tore into anything that had a pulse.    Sam read with great intensity the news reports and even hacked into the mainframe in the Vegas PD to read all that he could in regard to the slaughter.   Several hours passed until the younger Winchester closed the laptop.  He already had his bag and his gear was safely tucked away.   Sam Winchester found a hunt.  It just seemed like a simple case with demonic possession or a vengeful spirit.  It was a milk run.   He’d be gone for a few days and right back.  Dean and Jesse were spending a lot of time together which made Sam happy for the both of them.   They had their thing right now.  Sam had to do him.   After all, it was just a simple job to get his blood pumping again, right?   He stuffed his laptop in his bag.   He sent Dean a text.

Text:  Heading off to Vegas on a job.  Don’t wait up for me. I can handle this one.  Milk run.   : End Text

Sam dropped the phone in his pocket and headed toward the garage.  He knew better than to take Baby without Dean’s permission.   They had plenty of other cars to choose from thanks to the Men of Letters.    It was going to take about 16 and a half hours to drive to Vegas from there.  For a boy who wanted nothing more than to not hunt anything anymore, the man Sam Winchester was a whole different animal.    He liked it better this way.



~*~


Current day
Las Vegas, NV

As a general rule, Sam and Dean both had hunted in places that were more of the heartland of America.  The bigger cities tended to bring trouble to the Winchester Brothers.    Sam stepped out of the two door sedan and adjusted his tie.  He had a pair of sunglasses resting upon the bridge of his nose.  It had been a long time since he’d been to Vegas.  Last time was on a Spring Break trip with Jess right before he turned 21.  Surely no one would remember that awkward college kid that barely looked legal.    Time was a friend to many, but not necessarily to one with the last name Winchester.

The taller than average man rounded the corner of the car he’d driven here from Kansas. He entered the precinct in Las Vegas removing his sunglasses.  He pulled out his FBI badge and showed it to the desk sergeant.  “Agent Nelson.  I-”   He was interrupted by the uniformed officer who gave the cursory glance at the badge.   

“You’re here about the strip club slaughter, aren’t you?  It was so messed up man.  Really.”   The uniformed officer moved away from the counter and ushered the unusually tall man to follow him.   He took him back into the back to meet up with the Detective in charge of the case.  “Detective Jackson here is handling it.  I’ll leave you to alone.”   The uniformed officer walked away leaving Sam with Detective Jackson.

Her name was Lisa Jackson.  She had a serious look on features with an intensity in her sapphire hues.  Her rich oaken locks were neatly pulled out of her line of vision.  Sam swallowed hard and flashed his badge again.  “Could I get a look at those case files.  I’ve been sent here by the Bureau to assist in all that I can.”

Detective Jackson smirked at him and shook her head.  “You Feds didn’t waste any time did you?  I’ll be right back.  Just have a seat.”   He did as he was told trying not to stare too much at the woman as she left the room.  Maybe it was a good idea he came to Vegas after all.   Now here he was sounding like Dean.  This was not why he came here after all.  He shook himself and tried to focus on what he’d seen from the news reports and such.

She returned a few moments later with a folder that contained all the gruesome photos from the scene.   “Nobody had any sort of explanation for anything.  He just seemed like a nice guy…”   The Detective spoke to Sam as the supposed FBI agent started thumbing through the pictures.   

The scene looked like something out of a horror movie.  The sprays of blood had tainted the walls in a sickening painting of death and broken dreams.   Sam wrinkled his nose at what he’d seen.   “Is the club still open?”  He asked curiously.   He wanted to get a look at the scene itself.  It was standard to get some interviews going with the employees and any other witnesses on the scene.   Staring at those pictures however told him that he was getting more than just a vengeful spirit.  He was starting to entertain ideas of a witch or a demon possession.   He’d know more when he got over to the scene itself.   

The Detective shook her head.  “No, It’s closed.  We haven’t let them have the chance to clean anything up.  CSI is going over it still.  I can take you over there.”   She reached into her desk to pull out her holster.   Checking her weapon, she led Sam out of the building and into the direction of the club.

At the scene
Just a few moments later

Sam was standing in the middle of one of the greatest slaughters he’d ever seen.  His hands were resting upon his hips as he just surveyed the scene for a few moments.   His instinct told him that this was going to take longer than he thought.     He’d check in with Dean later.  Right now he had a job to do.

" Sam Winchester, The Boy with Demon Blood "

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