Trouble With the Neighborhood Kids [Open]

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“Hey, you got the shit?” A hoarse whisper resonated beneath the noise from economical speakers for the drive-in theater. It was a dark Friday night and they were playing an older horror film for the youthful masses that sat in their cars, observing the chaos flashing off the screen. Barry was near the bathrooms, scrutinizing his surroundings before acknowledging the intruder. “No shit, dumb ass. I’m just standing here for no goddamn reason.” Barry snarled, snatching an old cigarette box from his signature trench coat and placing a self-produced smoke into his parched lips. Lighting it up, he took in the green leaf’s relaxing affect before exhaling its smoke into the atmosphere. Seriously, was this idiot seriously going to be a permanent customer because he was getting tired of these mindless drug fiends. “Get the fuck over here, do you wanna’ make it more obvious!”

“S-Sorry man. I just... I need it. I need my stuff man. I, I don’t got no more!” The stranger stuttered, wriggling his hands desperately, tasting the residue from Barry’s cigarette. Beaming, the man shouted, “You got her too! Give me MJ!”

“Hush!” Barry growled, strutting over to the little weakling and shoving him against the wall, wrinkling the man’s shirt as he gripped him with callus covered fists. He lifted the man into the air, using the wall as a backboard as he continued his assault. “Get your shit from somewhere else understand, I don’t want to see you here again! My stuff is off limits to you, you hear me!” He barked before tossing his victim to the floor, leaving him cringing in fear. “Get the hell out!”

Squirming, the druggie scurried away, running into some random bystanders on the way out. They glanced at Barry curiously, who retorted with a hard stoned gaze and they hurried to escape his boiling wrath. Fuckin’ idiot... He nibbled on his cigarette irritably before returning to his post, glancing every so often to the loud scream bellowing through the moon light. Kids these days can’t handle a single drop of these wonder drugs anymore. More and more seemed to succumb to them every day, becoming brainless and reckless. His old gang never produced the goods in such open places but nowadays it seemed it was the only places they gathered now. His customers were either teens with shit parents, or teens with too caring parents.

Barry recalled his own children in silence; his two daughters Ellie and Emma. At times, he did miss his old life, before the war, gun, drugs, and all that crap. However, he could never go back to that life, not anymore. He was in way too deep and he could never face them, knowing the disappointment and hatred that would follow. They didn’t have a mother anymore because of him, because of what he brought into their home...

“Hey, dude? Whatcha’ doin’ on our turf?” Suddenly, a mass of cutthroats surrounded Barry, who had been to stoned and enveloped in his thoughts to realize them sooner. His heart throbbed in his chest from fear as they began to unveil their melee weapons, the simmer of the blades blinding him.

“H-hey, I don’t want no trouble alright guys?” Barry muttered, raising his defenseless hands into the air.

“You just tossed one of our customers, dude. I think you is lyin’ to me.” The leader smirked before signaling his men to grab him. Two burly men charged and within moments, Barry was strung up by his arms and had a stained lip from a powerful punch. The others began to draw closer to him, fiddling their blades, itching for bloodshed.

“He-hey wait! Let go, just take it!” Barry yelled desperately, trying to escape.

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Dean's mind was cluttered, his mentality had slowly been seeping away once more with his current puppet still awaiting him again at the office. The man had been a drunk, who had lost control of himself one night after a depressing divorce had ended. By the end of the night the man's body had ended up at the bottom of the river not far from his own home, soul lingering in the inbetween world when Dean had come along and pulled him from the wreckage thanks to his small attachment via his own soul.

It had been a recent death, so it wasn't hard to get a good body, but sadly the puppet wasn't all to thrilled to know of his untimely death nor that he was now a puppet to the puppeteer, thus the drilling and restraint had begun causing Dean's mind to slowly be slipping, "Is the man even worth keeping?" he asked himself as he wandered the night hands dug deep in his pants pockets. Slowly licking his lips as he felt the rage off the man who was forced to remain in the office for the evening Dean's eyes for a moment rolled towards the back of his head before he shook his head with a growl and picked up his pace towards his car. He needed to get out of the area before he lost it, if he was going to lose it he'd rather be somewhere outside of his work.

Finally getting to his vehicle Dean slid into the drivers side and turned it on his hands gripping the wheel almost painfully. He was determined to make it through the night before he more than likely got a necromancer or some soul consultant to help him put this man fully to rest and went on another puppet hunt, "A unstable dead drunk ain't worth using when he's this bad..." he muttered under his breath as he whipped out of the drive and headed towards the drive in theater. The place was known for sudden death as well as lost souls so here may be his best bet to find another puppet to replace the drunk.

As he pulled up he could feel the hatred and scared emotions of lost souls, yet they all seemed to be gathered in one area, which wasn't common. Possibility of people who were close to death was more than likely the cause of the reactions he was getting. Quickly parking the car and turning it off Dean stepped out his tall form looming over some of the vehicles heading towards where he felt the disturbance. Finding what appeared to be a hold up Dean licked his lips the slowly unstable emotions getting even more unstable by the second.

"You know it's not very nice to pin someone up like that don't ya?" He said eyes gleaming fearing that soon he would lose control and black out once more. Lord help the men in front of him if he lost control, for sadly there may not be much left of them if that became the cause. A pitfall in being a Soul Puppeteer was when you were around unstable souls or in contract you could say with one it became very unstable for your own emotions at times and you could lose control something that Dean hated, thus was thankful was a rare occasion, but perchance tonight may be one of his rare occasions and just where would that leave these men?

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The merciless mob continued to advance on Barry who struggled violently, yearning for some chance to escape. “Please! Just, just take it all! Take the shit, please just don’t kill me!” He begged, his dead azure eyes darting every direction as the silver blades twinkled with relentless savagery with their handlers chuckling evilly at their poor victim. As he hovered there, his fearful eyes tossed a glance to a strange figure, its massive stride drew it closer to them with each passing moment and Barry prayed that this mystery individual would save him.

The figure stopped and uttered a few inaudible words, for the intruder had caught the human on his bad side. However, his attackers seemed genuinely surprised by this man’s remark and they all swiveled to discern this new contender. “Who the fuck are you asshole?” The head chief snarled, crossing his arms over his chest as he portrayed himself unamused by Dean. The others followed suit and began to jeer and cackle like hyenas surrounding a lone predator defending its kill from their plundering claws. As they gawked, distracted, Barry threw a helpless arm outward and managed a distressed punch to one of the men’s faces. The burly man groaned and released his prisoner and Barry fished his other hand out as he fell from the others grip and made a run for an escape route.

“What, get him you shit heads!” The leader boomed, the others frantically scrambled to get a grip on the dirty rat and unfortunately for Barry, they snagged his trench coat and thrust him back to the group, the drug dealer crashing to the floor. Barry moaned painfully, holding his spine as it throbbed from the brutal force and within moments a large shoe thrust into his face and bashed his head into the concrete. A glob of blood exploded from his lips and his moans of agony began to grow as the pain seemed endless. “F-Fuck off!” He cried.

“Shut up ass wipe!” The leader turned back to the Soul Puppeteer, unaware of what this man was capable of. To these idiotic humans, he was just more fodder they could kill for the night and no one here cared enough to help. The innocents continued to enjoy the movie as best they could from the swearing and yelling and they seemed to do an excellent job at that.

“Please... h-help me!” Barry pleaded to the man.

“You two, fuck this dude up!” The leader signaled to Dean and his lackeys began to charge with their weapons drawn, out for blood. The other two stayed with Barry, who continued to be pinned on the ground, face plastered with a massive shoe.

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Dean's mind was slowly starting to spin, the last bit of sanity before the rage was slowly becoming non-existant as the men in front of him began to chide and belittle his abilities as well as his ability to hold himself against them. Little did these imbecils know that not only were they dealing with a sub-race human, but that Dean was trained in Wrestling and self defense, things that came in truly handy for him in his line of work as well as here apparently. Licking his lips as the man who appeared to be in charge stared him down like the big bad guy he tried to make himself out to be to his followers when the soul in the body portrayed that of a scared little boy who was abandoned, left to fend for himself with no recognition of a previous life anymore.

"Guess finding replacements weren't as hard as I thought they'd be..." He felt his body shake the rage slowly becoming unbearable, which told him soon there would be no stopping it. These men were all lost, weak minded souled humans, doing what they thought they could do to take care of themselves, or at least their obsession and addiction. Cracking his knuckles as well as his neck as the man in charge ordered two of the men to attack him Dean finally looked back up, his pupils slowly taking on a more sinister and dark appeal to their natural color, "Bring it..." he said his voice an almost growl as he felt his body relax itself.

The first man swung the knife at his right side while the other tried to counter on the other side, "Idiots..." he said a malicious smirk slowly rising upon his lips as he kept his eyes on the head boss for just a moment before turning his attention to the two brute men. Sliding his arm up and under the elbow of the first he slammed his fist up causing a small snap and a shout from the man allowing his fingers to loosen on the knife, which Dean quickly retrieved as it fell just in time to parry the other opponent, "So big boy wanna try that again?" As he watched the man's eyes slowly fill up with fear and utter astonishment Dean felt the blood rise in his eyes and once more the rage took hold of him and he blacked out.

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What felt like only moments later Dean felt his mentality slowly return and he could see again, what met his eyes made him curse, "Shit..." was all he could say, but surprisingly no other emotion came to mind to the Puppeteer, for he knew that the rage had been coming on slowly sadly, however he was more than thankful it had been taken out on some weak minded druggies than on some innocent fool. The bodies of the two who had been sent to rush him were on the ground the legs of one twisted into unimaginable positions and his neck broken, the other had a knife through his throat and his elbow busted up.

Looking up he noticed the other three had taken off leaving the man they'd been holding up on the ground, trying to pull himself together from the assault he'd been given. Slowly dragging himself step by step to the man Dean kneeled down by him looking him over, "You ok?" He said a bright smile appearing on his busted open lips, "didn't scare ya did I?"

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Barry had been unaware of the barbaric murders of the two cutthroats until he felt a sudden relief lift off his bruised head, hearing howls of terror as the leader and the two massive men scurried into the dark like diseased rats. The drug dealer groaned, feeling a crick in his neck from the powerful pressure from the man’s foot and a light pop echoed through the space between Dean and Barry. His dull blue eyes wavered to stay awake as he shot a glance towards the bloody mayhem a few feet ahead of him and within seconds, he gasped, almost choking on his own breath. What the fuck! Barry bellowed fearfully in his head. What the fuck was this guy taking, steroids!

Barry attempted to pull away from Dean as he drew closer, terrified of what this monster may do to him. Maybe he was on drugs?! Whatever the hell he was taking, Barry wanted no part in this man’s crazy antics. The bloodied masses twisted in disgusting positions caused Barry’s stomach to wretch, recalling the memories of his experience during the war. The bodies part that flew... the screams of agony that were cut short within a explosion of guts and what American’s considered, glory.

“Please... don’t hurt me please.” Barry begged, his limbs shaking as he tried to lift himself from the concrete but his drugged state as well as he beaten body failed him and he continued to lay there, almost crawling to escape Dean. “I, I won’t tell anyone please just, just let me go! Y-You want something, I don’t have a lot but please, j-just let me go!” Spitting the coagulated blood from inside his mouth, he coughed and hacked as he felt his heart throbbing in his chest from overwhelming fear and Barry considered this the end. He had survived almost everything God had dished out and him and now, this was it!

“Please...” He pleaded again, burying his head into the floor.

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Dean wasn't all to sure what his little rage spell had done to the man almost dragging himself away, or more attempting to drag himself away from Dean, but what he did know was that it had obviously done some mental damage to him or at least the look of the bodies had. Sighing after a moment and standing once more Dean rubbed the back of his head unsure how to proceed at the current moment. It wasn't often that he went into these rage fits let alone had one result in total chaos murder scenes, however he knew that these guys would have to be fixed up and turned into puppets somehow, before someone from the movie came over to check on what was going on, but first things first calm the man in front of him down.

"I'm not going to hurt you man..." Shaking his head a slight laugh erupting from his lips as if this was an everyday thing, which sadly part of the dead was a reality of his every day, just not killing them, something he was still learning to get under control via the help of the other agents he worked with, "we need to get you some help and I uh... well need to find a way to get these bodies away from here so I can work on them..." He wasn't sure how he was going to go about this after all the man hadn't threatened him, yet opening his position and case like this was a little threatening in and of itself, but that was a matter to take care of later.

Walking away from the man for a brief moment Dean walked back over to the two casualties and crouched down to address the mess and the bodies, "They are going to take a lot of work to reconstruct, thankfully they may be easier to control with their souls being lost not evil, but we'll have to see till we get them back to the office..." He was casually talking to himself in this instance trying to put together the pieces of his predicament, trying his best not to allow his nerves to crack under the situation.

Finally after a few minutes of assessing things he got on the phone whispering something inaudible to what would sound like a female's voice over the phone before getting off and wandering back over to the man, "If you promise not to bite me I'll take a look at those wounds for you... Try and help assess the situation before some help arrives, ok?" He was trying his best to be nice, yet the affects of the rage sadly still hung him with the connection though weak now, still connected to the dead drunk sitting in his office.

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Barry was completely overwhelmed by the entire situation for he had never witnessed such bloodshed dealt with one’s bare hands! This mysterious male had to be on something! Cocaine? Meth? Steroids? A new drug on the market, who the fuck knew! The war veteran was uttering stunned by how suddenly this situation had gone for just oh shit to, what the flipping fuck is going on! He attempted to rise from the bloodied concrete, his face imprint painted onto the floor and the abrupt movements from his cranium caused a throbbing headache that Barry knew would be lasting for a few days. Man, it like going OD all over again, except this time he was lying in a fluffy white hospital bed with sexy nurses crowding him. No, he was stuck at a cheap ass drive in theater with a madman who seemed rather obsessed with the dead.

As Dean muttered to himself, assessing the damage done, Barry retracted from the carnage and managed to wobble himself to a far way, sitting upright and cradling his head as he groaned and moaned from the agony. Maybe it was a concussion, who knew but it fucking hurt! Goddamn kids, thinking each inch of this place belonged to them! While they were sucking milk from the mother this guy was overseas fighting a war and this was the thanks he got! Kids... goddamn rejects. Ganging up on me like I’m some sort of caged thing. He retorted, feeling another lump of coagulated blood gurgling in his throat and he made a vicious snort before spitting out the chuck of blood from his mouth. He tried his best to listen to what Dean was muttering to himself about, but what his fractured head and bad ear, it made it completely impossible. “Ah fuck it... I just gotta get outta here before...”

Suddenly, the strange burly man was strolling in his direction and Barry recoiled, paranoid of what was to follow. The drug dealer wasn’t sure if it was the drugs or himself that was making it difficult to trust his savior, but whatever it was, it wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. “J-Just say away, I can take care of myself...” He warned cautiously, lifting a defensive hand in an effort to keep Dean out of his personal space. “I don’t know who the fuck you are but what the hell did you do to these people? How the hell did you...?” He glanced back over to the bloodshed and scrunched his mug from the massive trauma that was decorating the floor. “What the hell are you, a junkie? Some juiced of war vet? The government getting into that weird gamma shit like the Hulk or something?” He teased, rolling his eyes like this was some sort of joke. Maybe there had been more men and the rest just wandered off. There was no way one man could do all of this... right?

“Why’d you save me?”

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Dean wasn't all to sure how he was going to handle this situation, or at least how he would handle it till his friend arrived. The woman was better at helping him clean shit like this up then he was doing it on his own. Sighing heavily as he looked from the man who seemed scared shitless to the bodies which lay not, but 10 or so feet away from them. How do you explain to a man whom was just attacked that they were safe when he'd just murdered two other men? Wasn't really as simple as some people especially the movies, would make it out to be.

"Why wouldn't I?" he said his slightly gruff voice coming out in an almost free laughter a small smile appearing on his face as he continued to mentally assess the man and the damage done to him. It appeared that there were a few abrasions, possible concussion, as well as possible broken bones, thankfully the man hadn't lost enough blood to be unconscious though, whether that was good or not was yet to be determined, "and to answer your question I'm none of the above..." he didn't go any further until his help arrived and they were away from here he really didn't want to discuss anything dealing with his work, hell he didn't even want to discuss it in general, however with this man remaining conscious during the time that he was attacked there wasn't much choice now was there?

Finally after several minutes of silence between the two Dean heard the vehicle of his friend pulling up. Pulling himself from his crouched position Dean smirked, "bout time..." looking over towards the vehicle he wandered over and smiled as the gorgeous blonde removed her small body from the vehicle, "Eliza how are you darling?"

The small woman smiled and embraced her old friend like she was embracing an old lover, "Well I'm not doing to bad myself Mr. can't you keep from harming someone for once?" She gave a pair of pouty lips as she turned and walked towards the damage.

Laughing carefully Dean shook his head, "Eliza dear the dead ones are my only issue and blame the dead drunk in my office... can't hold onto that evil soul much longer, going to have to help me call someone in soon to release his soul..." Eliza nodded then headed towards Barry to help assess the damage.

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Barry was relieved that the mysterious killer had left him behind to wallow in his own agony, his brain throbbing from the immense pressure. He fiddled with his trench coat desperately, reaching into each pocket and scrounging for anything that was buried within them, begging for something that could appease the pain booming in his skull. Thankfully, he managed to find a few bits of ‘snow’ (as he referred it) collected in a minuscule bag buried in the masses of other assortments of drugs. He fished his fingers into the small ziploc bag and collected it onto the lower section of his pointer finger. He pressed the salt-like powder against each nostril and took a big sniff, feeling the painful scratch with each particle that traveled.

He shook his head violently, shaking away the nerves from the almost immediate affect from his beautiful ‘antibiotics’. “Man, that is some good sh*t...” He muttered, completely dazed and unaware of the sassy gal that had appeared near Dean. When Barry finally took notice of her, she wasn’t almost right in front of the drug dealer and he couldn’t hide his obvious sexual attraction to this blonde catch. “Damn, that is a nice piece of pie.” He muttered silently to himself, coughing to divert attention to his rather informal retort. He would not deny a physical assessment from this sexy bitch. You’d be stupid if you did. She reminded Barry of his long passed wife, which her well-endowed figure and golden locks, she had been the picture of perfection. However, she was six feet under now and her two prodigies were probably not far behind with how their life was ending up. No father and no mother, that was not the most preferred method of raising a child. Oh well...

“So, come to rescue me have you?” He attempted to be suave, but unfortunately from his stoned expressed and dilated red eyes, it was had to come off as charming.

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Eliza was well aware that they were dealing with some kind of drug hit, however the man's attention to her as well as his reactions almost had her in a fit of the giggles, "Dean where do you pick up these people?" She said her eyes turning towards her partner as she tried to keep the smirk from appearing on her lips before turning back to her subject in hand. Placing her hand towards his forehead she assessed the cuts, which thankfully weren't to bad, however it was apparent that there was some swelling, which made her think that Dean was correct in the factor of a concussion. The last part of the assessment was the one that she just wanted to shake her head on, "Ok, your going to have to help me get your shirt up sir need to check your ribs out to make sure the men who attacked you didn't break nothing." She said this almost dreading it. Though she was amused by the reactions she didn't need no drug addict hitting on her especially while she was on business work.

Dean almost couldn't keep himself from laughing. The man whom he saved was none other than a drug addict himself. Obviously apparent when he'd tried to apply his own medications to his system. Shaking his head wondering what in the world was up with this guy Dean watched as his helper went to work. Eliza was a looker he had to admit even to himself, however she was someone who kept her to herself and delved so far into her work that it had become the only thing that mattered in her life. She wasn't one for dates or boyfriends even with all the guys inside and outside the PIDA that hit on her. One of Dean's closest puppets Rebekah found the factor of everyone hitting on Eliza as amusing and was thankful that since they knew she was practically dead that not many paid attention to her made her work so much simpler in her own eyes.

"Were going to have to make this quick Eliza I don't know how much longer this movie is going to be going on. We may have to assess him the rest of the way on the go. Cause no matter how you look at it he is going to need to see an actual doctor."

Sighing after a moment, but staying in the crouched position she was in the young blonde nodded, "I know Dean, but I need to get this done so we have something to say to the doctors when we arrive." With that she went back to work causing Dean to smile.

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Damn she is a looker, the things I would do man... The drug addict smirked devilishly, disgusting fantasies fluttering through his clouded mind; however unfortunately for Barry his self-control practically diminished, had displayed openly his attraction to her and throughout his imaginations, his expressions molded between different shades of pleasure. If he had been in his right mind, Barry would’ve joined Dean in his chuckles of amusement for the deealer took great joy in embarrassing others but from his possible concussion and being higher than a cloud, he didn’t realize how ridiculous he really looked.

“You can look at me as long as you want sweetheart.” His voice was drawl and he could barely keep himself upright propped against the wall. A crooked smile creased his lips as he attempted to remove his shirt however it took much more time that it should have, twisting it every direction before finally tossing the prisoner’s cloth from his skin, revealing a malnourished form decorated with puncture marks and battle scars. “Like... what you see sweetie?” He whispered, struggling to control the fits of laughter that attempted to escape.

If there was one thing however that could pull a drug dealer from his pleasure that was mentioning a hospital for a hospital meant observations, which meant they would extract his blood and he would be screwed. “Nu-nuh! I don’t need the hospital, I’ll... I’ll be fine!” He struggled to stand but it was apparent that his skull was swollen and his brain sloshed again, agony creeping up again. “Ow...” He growled, fumbling his head back against the wall, exhausted.

“Please, no... docs.” He whispered, begging for redemption. “I-I don’t wanna go to jail.”