#hey pals so i got no replies left and a snap starter out there

[uhelle-blog1]

@uhelle: eek

[the-hidden-writer]

And Into The Fire

Chaper 11: A Few Hours Too Late

Summary: Months after the Mitchells saved the world, Linda gets a phone call asking if she’s seen two defective Pal MAX bots. Powerful people are after Eric and Deborabot 5000, and it’s up to the Mitchells to protect them.

Taglist: @squidsushi , @astro-aye , @shitmyex, @sharks-are-friendly, @snakeguy99

Check reblogs for AO3 link!

A Few Hours Too Late

The helicopter ride was terrifying.

Literally, that was the only way Katie could describe it. Even though she’d surfed through the air on Eric’s back (the memory of which only motivated her more to try and save him) it still wasn’t quite the same as being stuck in a cramped helicopter with a massive scary woman next to her. She would much rather go on a 10 hour road trip with Monchi on her lap than go through that again.

But it was over at last, and Agent Ward (plus a few other agents) escorted her to the place that she’d correctly guessed was their base of operations at the moment: The Pal Labs facility in Silicon Valley.

The way they were escorting her though, by surrounding her at all sides, made her feel a lot more like a prisoner than someone under their protection.

As they entered the facility, Katie couldn’t help but be hit by a huge wave of awe. She’d only seen this place from videos and livestreams and she’d never have thought that she’d get to set foot in it herself. Even at that time of night, it still looked amazing.

It didn’t look quite the same as it did online though. Although the interior design was the same (with the pristine white walls and glass stairs that led up to the large balcony that was probably the most iconic part of the building), the atmosphere seemed very different to what she’d seen. For starters, there were way less people around. And the people that were around didn’t look much like Pal Labs employees. Probably CIA agents, Katie surmised.

The most unnerving thing by far were the displays.

Under the balcony were four large screens, each in the same state- completely black save for these words written in big red lettering:

Pal MAX #012041966 Status: UNRESPONSIVE

Pal MAX #009181987 Status: OFFLINE

While dread began to pool in her stomach, a very different emotion appeared to take over Agent Ward.

“Offline?” She muttered, her eyes glued to the distant screens. “OFFLINE?! What the hell happened to make it go offline and why did nobody tell me?!”

Many (probably) agents came running toward them at the sound of her booming voice.

“We were too busy!” One of them supplied nervously. “#009181987 came back online randomly so we called it back here to begin procedure, but then #012041966 turned up here too but we still couldn’t access it so we-”

“WHAT?!” Agent Ward exclaimed, sounding a lot like how Katie felt. Did that mean that the bots were here? What procedure? And also, since she’d gotten so used to calling them ‘Eric’ and ‘Deborahbot’, had they been referring to them by those super long number names all this time without shortening them to make it easier?

“They’re both here?!” Ward continued.

“Y-Yes, Ma’am.” That other agent replied. “One’s in Lab 5 and the other’s in Interview Room 7.”

Though Katie could only see her back, her imagination provided a pretty good image of the rage on Agent Ward’s face as she stormed up the glass steps, cursing under her breath. With all the agents around her in a stunned silence they didn’t really care that she followed her.

Agent Ward first barged into a small room (which Katie didn’t dare follow her into). She stared at what looked like a glass wall for a few moments before rushing out again.

Katie got a good look at her face then. And yes, she looked both flushed and furious.

“Where’s Lab 5?!” She demanded nobody in particular.

“D-Down the hall, sixth door on the left.” An agent provided, pointing. “Dr Bowman’s in there too, Ma’am.”

Ward began sprinting in said direction at such a speed that Katie barely registered what was happening. She knew all CIA agents must have had some sort of training, but damn could that woman run fast. She was so fast that Katie was sure she’d get to the lab before she could reach the edge of the balcony herself.

It was a few seconds after Katie had started running that all the other agents seemed to snap out of their stupor.

“Hey, wait! Stop!”

Katie kept on running.

Sixth door on the left right? That’s what the man had said. Judging by the distance between each door, all the rooms must’ve been pretty big. If they were all labs then that made sense.

It was also a pretty big distance to run for someone like her who didn’t run very often, so it took her a little longer than she’d like to admit to actually get there.

Luckily for her, her destination was pretty obvious by the fact that Agent Ward was dragging Mark Bowman into the room by the scruff of his neck.

“Ow- ow! Hey! They didn’t tell me anything-”

“Shut up.” Ward snarled. “You’d better pray that you’ve not messed this up.”

She was out of earshot once she’d entered the lab. So, naturally, Katie followed.

She’d underestimated just how close the other agents (bigger, faster agents that were probably security) were behind her. One of them grabbed onto her shoulders just as she ran through the door.

The shock that encompassed her at what she saw inside meant she couldn’t care less about being caught.

She felt the breath be knocked out of her lungs as she gasped.

“E-Eric!”

Even as she was dragged away, Katie was too stunned to find the strength to resist.

She knew what she’d seen. If the white bits of machinery and the wires spread across the tabletops weren’t enough, then the worker caught mid-scrub as he attempted to clean the familiar permanent marker from the screen was more than enough to push her over the edge and drain all courage out of her.

That was… that was Eric. Those was pieces of Eric sprawled about on a number of tables. Eric, who despite being a robot was practically a part of their family now.

The horror of what she’d just witnessed was the only thing on her mind as she was pulled down the hall.

“Wait!”

The guard that was leading her away paused and turned her around. Mark Bowman was racing up towards them.

“Katie!” He cried. “Katie, you need to get out of here-”

“A bit late for that!” Katie couldn’t help but respond, her shock turning into anger. “What are you doing to him?! What- what’s even happening here?!”

Mark looked scared. “They’re not telling me much but I have a feeling it’s not good. If they just wanted to turn them off then they would have done that by now, but-”

“‘But’ indeed.”

Mark’s eyes grew wide as he turned around to face Agent Ward, who was sauntering up behind him.

“You’re very lucky, Dr Bowman. You and your team didn’t disassemble it in a way that would render it impossible to be put back together. Good.” She then glared at Katie before she continued. “Miss Mitchell, you called it ‘Eric’.”

Dangit, she should have been more careful. “I-”

“It seems you were wrong, Dr Bowman. They weren't going after the Mitchells. They were working with them.”

She really really really should have been more careful. Now her fake pictures were useless!

...Now her family was in danger.

“Trevor,” Agent Ward addressed the guard holding Katie, “escort both Dr Bowman and Miss Mitchell to the office and keep them there. I think it’s about time we find out just how these robots managed to avoid detection for all this time.”

Comments make my day! :)

[thecursedhellblazer-arc]

A Dream within a Dream

Starter for @awaywardboy-andhisangel​​

Gods, if there was something he still hadn’t got used to was how vast the States were. Even after all the years he had been living in the country, at times he still found himself appalled by how long the ride from one place to another took him. The trips he used to do when he had still been living in the UK were nothing in comparison. A fun, relaxing outing in the countryside. He missed London, his old habits, some parts of his old routine. There were reasons why he had chosen to leave, though, and they were still standing. Which meant, among the other things, that there was no going back.

John turned his eyes on the landscape that was running outside the window of the cab, catching the sight of a signpost carrying the city’s name. Santa Fe, New Mexico. Over twenty hours of driving and changing transports from where Constantine’s place was, near Atlanta. If he didn’t get to work and gain another big win, his wallet would have very soon gone on strike, that was a fatal certainty. He had been meaning to stop by New York that weekend and gamble his way inside a certain establishment, but the phone call he had received had forced him to change his plans. Usually, he never dropped his business and left just because someone asked for his help, but what he had been told had been enough to spark his interest and make him look into the case. And, from what he had found, he could tell that it was bad. And quite urgent too.

His hands slowly balled up into fists. The body count was still low, all considered, but the people involved were already too many. And some of them were kids. The mere awareness was enough to bring back memories he was never drunk enough to face and he would have never forgiven himself if he had...

“Hey, pal. We’re here. That’s the address,” the taxi driver’s voice cut through the trail of his thoughts, snapping him back to the presence and causing him to realise that the vehicle had stopped right in front of one of the visibly cheap motels in the suburbs of the city. Christ, he hadn’t even started and his head was already a mess.

Get it together, old son.

“Ta, mate,” he hurried to reply, fishing for his wallet so he could pay the driver’s fee, his other arm already reaching out for his bag. “Keep th’ change. ‘S not much, but I ‘ad yeh take quite th’ drive today, so...Consider it me thanks for tha’ too, aye?”

The man offered him a non-committal shrug, but accepted the money without hesitation, before wishing him a good day and driving off as soon as John had got off, leaving the Brit standing at the edge of the courtyard around which the motel rooms were set.

A quick glance around the place, a moment to check the piece of paper where he had marked down the directions, another to fix his sunglasses and lighting up a cigarette, and then he stuffed his hands in his pockets and marched towards room 23, on the opposite side of the yard.

The Winchester brothers, he thought with a huff. It was odd that he had never crossed paths with them before considering that they seemed to dabble with some of the worst sides of the supernatural world, just as he did. Though, Fate seemed to have wanted to keep them in different corners...until that moment. It made him wonder if he should have taken it as a bad omen, all considered.

He rattled his knuckles on the door of the room and then he pushed it open without waiting for an answer, the fact that it was supposed to be locked up be damned. A magic trick here and there allowed you to save some time.

Whatever was going on inside the room till a moment before instantly stopped as he stepped inside, but John’s attention instantly focused on the freshly opened bottles of beers that both hunters were holding. Hell yeah. That was exactly what he needed.

“Bloody lifesa’ers,” he commented, before stealing the drink out of the taller between the two man, for the mere reason that he was the closest. Hard to say if the comment was directed to the two brothers or to the beer. “Me last drink was before I left to come ‘ere n’ th’ fuckin’ trip took bloody ages. Bloody States. I waste more times goin’ ‘round th’ country than gettin’ me shite done, yeh know?”

He shook his head and took one long gulp from the bottle. “John Constantine, by th’ way. We talked on th’ phone two days ago, aye?”

Sam stared at his former beer for a moment, still a bit stunned by the blond’s sudden appearance, and then turned to glance at Dean. They had been sort of warned off about the Brit, but he hadn’t known what to expect. And, now that he had seen him, he knew even less. And with that thick accent he was having some issues catching everything the other was saying.

“Ah, you’re welcome...for the drink,” he settled to say, hoping that his brother wouldn’t have thrown a fit already. He cleared his throat. “I’m Sam, and this is my brother Dean. Thanks for coming with such short notice.”