#rainer suck

[collageofnudes]

Dominika Krcmarikova by Rainer Suck

part 1 / 5 (part 2 , 3 , 4 , 5)

[digitalfountains]

Dominika Krcmarikova by Rainer Suck

[luegootravez]

Bianca Munteanu by © Rainer Suck

[mostlybrunettes]

Mateja & Martina Mikusic // Rainer Suck

[angelsdusted]

this was surprisingly the most words they've exchanged with each other . ironic considering how often she expressed her hatred towards the homme with her sister and her friends . she usually talked about how she wanted to wipe the smug grin off his face , or how unfair it was that he still got to pass his classes even if his attendance rate was less than half of what was needed to pass . worse than that , all the professors seemed to have some sort of soft spot for him and admired him for only god knows what reason . maybe his family was a big donor of the school , who knows . no one really knows anything about rainer , so she wouldn't be surprised if it turns out he was some rich kid with a million dollars to his name . " really , you'd teach me how to spell ? maybe we can start with words like c-u-n-t or p-r-i-c-k , " sarcasm dripping off every syllable . at least one thing she was certain of , he would and has never won a mr. congeniality award . " can't i just be extra cautious ? you could be paying someone else to do all the work and you just show up once in a while and submit the paper , " knew that sounded a bit ridiculous , but she hardly cared if he took it the wrong way . after all , he seemed to be having a ball insulting her .

he wasn't the most pleasant person to be around , most days he preferred the company of no one and today wasn't any different . yet , her presence is welcomed nonetheless . a weird notion , all things considered . "professionalism would entail you putting together a proper sentence so it's no wonder you failed . can you even spell or are we going to have to go back to the basics and start from scratch ?" rainer daniels wasn't smart by choice , having been blessed with the scholars and no one knew where it came from -- perhaps his great grandfather , ronald daniels , who alleged his own standing ovation at oxford for a twenty page paper he had written on humanities . his father , was a deadbeat , and his mother , neglectful , in a home as cold as one would assume antarctica to be . he found lacey amusing , something to entertain himself with until something better came along .. maybe someone with an actual brain . he pauses , licking his lips , "you think i'd let us fail ? why , to spite you ? let myself fall under the cracks ?" he shakes his head , "you think too highly of yourself if you're worried about that ."

[artyandink]

𝚍𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚜 | 𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚎!𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚗 𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛 | 𝟷

Summary: Ivonne Rainer hadn’t met Dean Winchester in 2006 after he was hit by a car. No, this time, this universe, they met in 2010, when the whole Apocalypse deal started and Dean was made leader of one of the only remaining survival camps in America. Little did he know, one random raid would change everything.

A/N - I’m writing this in tandem with the main series, so by the time we get to this point, you’ve got a gist of what’s going on :)

MASTERLIST

SURVIVAL

Dean had been having what was a more than rough day. He’d lost four soldiers in the past week to the Crotes, and he had no Sammy to turn to. No Bobby either, and it killed him. His hand struck the table, a curse leaving his mouth as he did so, bent over and wondering where to hit next.

It had barely been a year since Sam had agreed to Lucifer, saying the big ‘yes’ when he realised that his brother was no longer gonna be there for him. Since then, things were spiralling. Lucifer won. The only immune people were dead and they all turned out as psychos, if you don’t count that Andy kid who didn’t deserve to go out the way he did.

None of them did.

“Damn it.” His eyebrows furrowed in concentration, trying to make heads or tails until he spotted a place they hadn’t covered yet that could be promising. He picked up a marker, circling it haphazardly as he ran a hand through his hair. “Hey, D’Marco!” He yelled out, and one of his men poked his head through.

“Yeah, boss?”

“Rally the squad. We’re hitting Jersey City.”

I jumped over the hood of a car, taking out my machete and swinging as it caught a Croat by the neck, its head thudding to the floor. My eyes glowed red, a metal pole flying up and jabbing straight through the skull of another while I elbowed a third in the neck, going in and shooting point blank.

“God, I hate it here.” I growled, then I got clawed in the arm by one, familiar pain stinging my arm as I shot the assailant in the eye. I’d been fighting my way through this for close to a year, and I’d simply needed to raid the convenience for supplies and I got myself in this blasted mess. “This sucks ass.” I quickly disarmed an approaching Croat with a glow of my eyes and flick of my hand, taking its head and snapping its neck, an animalistic whine, almost like an injured dog, leaving it’s mouth before it flopped like a ragdoll onto the floor, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

“It’s a goddamn wasteland out here!” I heard someone yell, followed by rapid gunfire and yells of something that could be pain or stress. I got down before realising it wasn’t aimed at me, so I got back out, immediately pounced on by a Croat that I quickly put down by shooting it. I got up, replacing the clip. I needed to get back to my base and fast, otherwise whoever these guys were could be raiders.

Raiders were asses. They took what they wanted and didn’t care whose lives got lost. It sickened me. I growled under my breath, moving behind a building as I spotted the license plate of a Jeep.

“These are dead Croats, boss. Every last one of them.” A voice called out, followed by footsteps that were made more monstrous by the sound of crunching gravel. “Somebody was out here, killing ‘em.”

“Someone that good? C’mon Joey, be realistic. It has to be another team.” The group chuckled at the joke made by another member of their team, and I frowned in annoyance. I’m sorry, do they see anyone else out here? Actually, they could only see me out here, so it was a given. I peered around the corner, and saw that all of them had their backs to me. I crept up, careful not to crunch on the gravel until I reached the guy at the back, instantly hooking my arm around his neck and yanking him towards me, pressing the muzzle of my gun to his temple.

“Don’t move.” I warned, getting their attention. They spun around with weapons up, but the moment that they saw me with a gun to one of their own, they faltered slightly. “Tell me, who are you? Raiders? Those ragtag asses who think that this is a good thing? Speak up, one of you, now!”

“We’re survivors.” One of them spoke up, his voice gravelly. He looked rougher than the rest of them, his dirty blonde hair up on end in the face of danger and his green eyes stern. “Now let my man go, or I swear to God-”

“You’ll what, tough guy?” I scoffed. “You’ll what?”

“You’ll be dead before you hit the ground.”

“Try me.” I growled, pressing the muzzle tighter to my captive’s head. “I dare you.”

“Pretty thing’s got lip on her.” One man scoffed, but one glare from me shut him up.

“Pretty little thing’s got a gun and one of your men, so better keep your mouth shut.”

“Who even are you?” The gravel-voice dude spoke up, a frown creasing his forehead. I looked him in the eye, my gaze steely.

“None of your damn business.” I replied aggressively, my finger tightening on the trigger.“Who’s askin’?”

“Dean Winchester, now let my soldier go, damnit!” I put the gun down, releasing his teammate as I decided that these guys could be ok. Then his teammate spotted the claw cut on my arm, and all hell broke loose.

“SHE’S INFECTED!” He yelled, and as all of them raised their guns to shoot me, I held out my hands in surrender, panic striking me for a moment.

“WOAH, HOLD ON, I’M IMMUNE!” I shouted, panting heavily. “I’M IMMUNE, OK?! I’m… clean.”

“You’d need to be some psychic freak in order to be immune.” Dean Winchester frowned, stepping forward and raising his gun, pointing it at me. “What kind are you? Actually, I shouldn’t even be asking that, cause all the psychic jackasses turned out to be whacked out of their gourds. What says you ain’t?”

“This entire graveyard is my doin’.” I reasoned, gesturing to the Croat’s bodies. “All me. I don’t know how I got my powers and why, but I’ll tell you one thing for damn sure and it’s that it’s kept me alive out here.” I paused to chuckle nervously. “Look, restrain me if you have the stuff to, but there’s no way in hell I’m stayin’ out here.” They took a moment to think, then Winchester pulled out a pair of handcuffs from his utility belt. My eyebrows twitched, a small smirk on my face as he did so. “Damn, you have them on you, you kinky son of a-”

“Put them on.” He ordered while handing them over, his gun pointing to the cuffs then back to my face. I scoffed, laughing a bit as I clasped it over one wrist.

“Chivalry is dead, I see.” I snapped it over the other wrist, then held my bound wrists up for the other men. “Mysterious girl, bound so she can’t hurt you guys. What a relief. Now, uh, are we gonna book it or what?” I was promptly taken by the arm by Winchester, but I snatched my arm out of his grip with a grimace. “I can do it myself, we have no need for the manhandling type of chivalry.” I stepped up onto the Jeep, flopping down onto a seat as the rest of them got in. Winchester sat down in front of me, gun trained on me by chance I made a move. “Chill, Manchurian Candidate, I’m not gonna bust the spirit of Chuck Norris out and start kicking your ass on a moving car while handcuffed, I’m not stupid.”

He just stared at me.

“Alright, we’re gonna keep doin’ this until you give me a name, you hear me?” Winchester growled, and I shrugged, leaning back against my chair.

“And I think we’ll be here a while. Screw. You.” I retorted, obviously aggravating him as he ran a hand through his hair, glaring back at me.

“I told you my name, why won’t you tell me yours?!”

“I can’t trust you!”

“I saved your ass!”

“Oh, hell no, I saved my ass.” I scoffed. “Like I have been since this thing started. You’d have blown my head off otherwise.” He opened his mouth to contradict, but I shot him a look. “Don’t lie to me, I know what people look like when they’re on the verge of killin’ someone. How do I know? I see that goddamn face every day, sometimes in the mirror. M’not that easy to fool, Winchester.” I chuckled cynically, shaking my head. “Idjit.”

The look on his face changed, and he picked up his gun and held it to my forehead. “Where did you get that?!”

“The hell is wrong with you-”

He grabbed my face with one hand, forcing it up roughly. “WHERE DID YOU HEAR THAT?!”

“My uncle used to say it, goddamn it!” I snapped. “I don’t know where he is, but we were separated in Sioux Falls.”

“Bobby.” Winchester whispered, and quickly let go of my chin, swallowing and looking away. “You’re Ivonne Rainer.”

“Not even gonna apologise?” I scoffed. “Well, I figured you wouldn’t.”

“He talked about you. Bobby.” He scanned me for a moment with something close to bitterness. “My dad did too. John Winchester. Came home one day when I was fifteen talking about the daughter of his hunting partner Michael Rainer, who’d showed up on a vamp hunt to help exterminate a nest in Louisiana. Bobby said you were one of the best hunters he’d known. That you?”

“Sounds like me.” I nodded. “John Winchester, yeah, I remember him. Real pompous ass.”

“Watch what comes out of that mouth of yours.”

“No, I don’t think I will.”

“At this point, you’re askin’ to be slapped.”

“But you won’t.” I smirked, obviously provoking him further. He got up close in my face, teeth gritted.

“I will not hesitate to put a bullet through your brain, you hear me? You’re just one more arrogant dumbass, you don’t mean anything to me. Besides, how’re you planning to fight back? You ain’t in no state to fight, not cuffed, so cut the attitude.”

“Might want to rethink that last statement.” I held up my hands, showing that I was free as the cuffs dropped from my wrists. He stared at the fallen handcuffs, shocked as I sharply pushed him back, standing up and rubbing the chafed skin where the cuffs once were. “What, think I can’t handle myself?” I tilted my head, smirking a bit. Then my gaze went to his gun, and my eyes glowed blue, the clip falling out as I flicked my hand down and zooming into my hand. Winchester stared at me again, his eyes flicking back to his gun occasionally as he tried to process what I’d just done. “Look, man, I ain’t no psycho. If I wanted to hurt you, I would have, no questions asked.”

“You spared me?” He scoffed, looking disbelieving.

“Bet your ass I did.”

“I don’t trust you.”

“Then don’t.” I shrugged, looking him in the eye. “Cause I don’t give a damn whether you do or not. I care about survivin’. Actually livin’. And me being honest, I’m one of the last people left on earth who can actually protect all of you.”

“I just need you to stay out of my goddamn way.” He growled, fists clenched.

“Then… fine.” I raised my hands in mock surrender as I started retreating to the flap. “Like I said, don’t give a damn.” I dropped the clip of his gun, leaving.

Dean stared the spot where I just was, his teeth gritted before he slammed the table, yelling out.

“DAMN IT!”

[sarah-sandwich-writes]

The new kid is red-faced and wheezing by the time they make it up the hill. It ain’t even half as big as the one over by Chuck’s place, but by the way Teddy is huffing and puffing, you’d think he’d’ve run up and down it a dozen times.

“What’s wrong with you?”

He ain’t fat, not even close. He probably ain’t a smoker neither, considering most six-year-olds aren’t, but he’s sure breathin’ like one. Maybe this is why Ms. Rainer was fixed on him seeing Teddy home from the bus stop. Somehow she knew, just by looking, that there’s somethin’ off with this one.

As Teddy heaves for air, his backpack slips free from one shoulder, but he shrugs it back on and keeps dragging his feet through the gravel. His house is visible now, set too close to the road so it’s a muted dusty gray under all the gravel dust. The dust swirls in the wind like a toddler playing at being a ballerina after too much sugar, making the leaves dance along to the rasp of the corn stalks shifting and swaying in time.

Nash hesitates on the porch as Teddy throws open the storm door and pushes into the house without a backward glance. When he doesn’t close the door behind him, Nash follows.

Inside, Teddy’s ragged breaths are louder, helped along to Nash’s ears by the uncovered wood floor. He follows into the kitchen where the yellowy linoleum pops and crackles underfoot in the places where it’s bubbled up.

The drawer beside the sink opens with a screech of wood as Teddy pulls out an inhaler, puts it between his lips, and sucks in a long, deep breath. With his eyes closed and his face screwed up, he lowers the inhaler and holds his breath for a long, long time. Then he exhales, wipes his nose with the back of his hand, tosses the inhaler back in the drawer, and rams it shut before turning to face Nash with his chin tipped up proudly.

“All the things.”

“Huh?”

“You asked what’s wrong with me,” Teddy says in a reedy voice. He pauses to breathe. “There’s a lot wrong with me.”

“Oh. Are you… sick?”

Dying is what he wants to ask, but he’s been whacked in the back of the head enough to know better.

Teddy shrugs. “Not right now, but maybe tomorrow. Wanna play Pokémon?” He flips the lid off of a sagging women’s shoe box on the table and reveals a treasure trove of Pokémon cards.

“Woah, those are all yours?”

He pulls cards out by the handful. “Yeah, my mom and dad used to buy me a pack every time they had to travel.”

Nash stares, mesmerized, as Teddy rifles through the cards like he knows what he’s looking at—all the colors and creatures and elements—it’s overwhelming.

“They must travel a lot.” He can’t imagine what that’s like. The farthest he’s ever been from Deliverance is the Walmart in Buford Hills, the next town over.

“Used to. They’re dead now, so…” He keeps messing with the cards. Like it’s nothing to him. Like he doesn’t care. Like his face isn’t scrunched and his shoulders aren’t boxed around his ears.

If he wasn’t so visibly uncomfortable, Nash would think he was trying to make a joke. He doesn’t know what to say, so, out of pity, he puts his backside on the line and asks, “How do we play?”

He’s gonna get an ass whoopin’ for being home late, but it’s almost worth it for the relieved smile that overtakes Teddy’s discomfort as he babbles about types and strengths and weaknesses.

Nash settles himself opposite him at the table and silently bemoans his inability to ignore the kicked puppy types.

Red, like my bleeding heart in your hand - Sign up for my newsletter to get publishing updates!

[stuffyflowers]

behold. anyone can add more btw

I remember hearing someone say Chujin is basically foxboy luigi and I'm not sure how to feel about this information

It felt relevant though

huh

[fictionkinfessions]

I’m so panicked and put of it all the time. Why did that have to stay from before, this sucks.

Rainer 💿🎁

[collageofnudes]

Dominika Krcmarikova by Rainer Suck

part 3 / 5 (part 1 , 2 , 4 , 5)

[digitalfountains]

Dominika Krcmarikova by Rainer Suck

[luegootravez]

Matilda Price by © Rainer Suck

[mostlybrunettes]

[velvetvexations]

actually if you want to talk about it I’d be curious about your petscop opinions (in a friendly discussion way) but if not that’s totally cool!

One of the things I was telling people Petscop was of too high-quality for something to be what was happening was the incredibly dumb "playing the game in a car" thing, which I thought was a completely ridiculous theory and I really was out there like, no, guys, that's stupid, that's so stupid, and this is PETSCOP, the single greatest web series in existence, my Roman Empire, it's not stupid so obviously that can't be it.

But what I really disliked and put me down a lot was the lack of hard answers. I unironically feel like people nowadays fetishize narrative ambiguity. Death of the Author or even the idea that a work might have literally no intended meaning except to be a viewer's personal Rorschach test has gotten so big that to even suggest something mysterious might have an answer can be seen as sacrilege.

Sometimes that can be a difficult wire to walk. David Lynch refuses to ever give away the intended meaning of his work because he does want his audience to reach their own conclusions and find their own meaning in it...but, also, he did still have an intended meaning behind everything and it's not weird to try and work that out. Yes, the demand for answers killed Twin Peaks - but I would argue it was more like impatience because what fans wanted to know was specifically who killed Laura Palmer, and Lynch always intended to get to that eventually, just at the very end.

Fans during the airing of Twin Peaks took it 100% literally and weren't generally looking for symbolic meaning, they were looking for hard facts about what was occurring in-universe. While my belief of the "correct" interpretation of Twin Peaks is that the narrative blends in-universe reality with out-of-universe meta anyway, I think we would have gotten basically satisfying answers to the in-universe reality if the network had been willing to let it cook. I think subtext can be really cool, and despite my sidebar text being a Garth Marenghi reference the things I write have subtext in them as well, but usually I'm far more interested in the text when it comes to mysteries like this.

So like, I'm going to take a gamble with allowing myself to be vulnerable and admit something: when it turned out the website in Petscop had been made, but the creator just decided not to put it out? I was without hyperbole livid.

I struggle, like really struggle with anger issues, to the point where earlier this morning I was thinking about making a post about how much I've been feeling the "check your bathroom" message from Rainer, but decided against it because that's implied to be a suicide note and I didn't want to give the impression I was referring to suicidal ideation. I mean, I am also extremely depressed, but that's not what I had in mind.

Just like...the bitterness of what Rainer says in that message, the exhausted rage? Yeah, that's me. I'm an angry person. It's one of the reasons I related so hard to Kipperlilly Copperkettle in Dimension 20. Because like, my fandom for her started out being really annoyed with the protagonists and the ways they have their cocks sucked by the fandom and narrative no matter what, and how KLCK in particular was getting insane hate for insane reasons, but when it was revealed she had been in therapy for years for anger management I wanted to cry because I suddenly felt this intense empathy with her.

No matter how irrational, the revelation about the website existing but not being shown gutted me. So I was really, really angry about it and to be honest I still kinna am. I don't hold any real ill will towards the creator and, again, I know it's irrational, but that hurt me a little.

There's this scene in The Expanse where a spaceship hits a field that makes anything in motion come to an instantaneous and complete stop, and you can imagine what that does to the occupants of spacecraft traveling a bazillion miles an hour (it should really obliterate the ship, too, but whatever). It kinna felt like that. Like the series just came to a sudden and arbitrary stop with nothing explained and my investment turned into several gallons of red paint splattering the camera.

I was also very dissatisfied with it turning out that either it was all about being trans or the very least had a significant amount of it's plot be about that. I don't mean to be a Sad Puppies kinna geek who thinks their entertainment should never touch on social themes and just stick to cool laser guns, but like...I am trans. Nearly all my friends are. I talk about it constantly on this blog, I'm thinking about it constantly, it is one of the single most important, defining aspects of nearly every facet of my life. I enjoy some media that's outwardly about being trans and my writing is heavily heavily HEAVILY centered around diversity and inclusion and talking about it all, but when it's the answer to a mystery?

I can't help but find that tremendously boring. And that's another thing that, like not getting answers and it all being over so abruptly, Expanses the shit out of my investment.

And my investment in Petscop ran...deep. Very, very deep. I loved the series with every fiber of my being. Like I said, the drop-off in how I felt about it was like Satan falling from Heaven like lightning, and I felt every bit of that falling damage.

So Petscop and the way it ended was a lot for me.

[djzibaz]

Ep. 117 Channel Z

Pinback - Tres

Moving Units - Melodrama

Grandaddy - I’m on Standby

Ladytron - Black Cat

Numbers - Insomnia

Reverend Horton Heat - In Your Wildest Dreams

Mates of State - Tan/Black

Rilo Kiley - The Frug

Hey Mercedes - Our Weekend Starts on Wednesday

Enon - Monsoon

Bad Dudes - Xombie

Reggie and the Full Effect - Fought and Won One

Rainer Maria - Ears Ring

Broadcast - Hawk

Cat Power - Willie

Khruangbin - The Recital That Never Happened

Post Life - Post Life

Choir Boy - Eat The Frog

Erlend Oye - Friends and Lovers

Boy Pablo - I'm Really Tired This Day Sucks

At The Drive In - Call Broken Arrow

The Vanishing - Still Lifes

The Sea and Cake - Two Dolphins

Stereolab - Cybele's Reverie

Blonde Redhead - Melody (French Version)

American Football - I'll See You When We're Both Not So Emotional

ADULT. - Glue Your Eyelids Together

Erase Errata - Winter Turns Into Spring

Friction - Auburn

Kara's Flowers - Soap Disco

[artyandink]

we could be more | dean winchester | 13

Summary: Ivonne Rainer was practically a trained killing machine. Stripped to the bone then built back up by her father in order to become one of the best, like he was. She was forced into hunting when she was nineteen, having developed powers that couldn’t be explained. That is, until she was paid a visit by Azazel’s lackey. Her powers were gone, she needed help, and that’s when she found her father’s journal. Pointing to Sam and Dean Winchester.

SERIES MASTERLIST

NIGHTSHIFTER

“Hey there, FBI agent Anna Drewe.” I flashed by badge to a man working at a counter. “I just want to ask a few questions about the incident.” 

“Shoot.” He smiled. 

“Alright, your name is Logan Turner, yes?” I raised an eyebrow, holding Carl loosely as he jotted everything down. 

“Yep.” 

“Tell me about Helen.” 

“She was like family.” Logan frowned. “The lady said it herself. We were the only family she had. Then Larry, our manager, gets a call sayin’ that Helen’s emptying everything out and then you hear a gunshot. Few days later, she kills herself.” 

“Alright, thanks, Mr Turner.” I smiled, storing Carl in my pocket. “Thank you for your cooperation.”

”Would you, uh, want to, maybe… go out sometime?” 

“Sorry, sir, but I don’t mix business with pleasure.” Then I heard Dean flirting with the receptionist. I gritted my teeth, taking a deep breath. “And neither should my partner.” I walked over to Dean, covering the paper which he was handing to Frannie the receptionist. “Keep it strictly business, Agent.” 

“That-That’s right, partner.” Dean nodded, and sent a longing look to Frannie before walking with me. Frannie sent me a dirty look, but I ignored it. 

“We’re here to string the bank robberies together, not score a night with a receptionist.” 

“Why can’t I live a little?” 

“Cause take off that suit and remove your badge and to her, you’re just another ordinary Joe.” 

“Am I an ordinary Joe to you, Beanie?” 

“Course not. To me, you’re sexy.” 

“Wait, really?” 

“No.”

We pulled up in front of a  small house, which was the residence of Ronald Resnick, the security guard that worked one of the cases. 

“Five -- this is it.” Sam nodded. 

“Friggin’ cops.” Dean grimaced. 

“They’re doing their job, Dean.” I sighed. 

“No, they're doing our job, only they don't know it, so they suck at it. Talk to me about this bank.” 

“Milwaukee National Trust. It was hit about a month ago.“ 

“Same M.O?” 

“Yep, inside job, longtime employee, the never-in-a-million-years type.” Sam added. “Dude robs the bank, then goes home and supposedly commits suicide.” 

“I’ve been having Carl make a pattern.” I smiled. 

“This guy, Resnick,” Dean frowned, “he was the security guard on duty?” 

“Yeah. Beaten unconscious by the teller who heisted the place.” 

“God.” We knocked on Ronald’s door. 

“Mr. Resnick? Ronald Resnick?” Sam called, and then a bright floodlight blinded us temporarily. Then Ronald came to the door. 

“FBI, Mr. Resnick.”  I smiled, but he looked apprehensive. 

“Show me ID.” Ronald demanded, so we took out our IDs and put them on the screen door at the same time. Ronald peered at them, then we retracted them. “I’ve already given my statement to the police.” 

“Yeah, listen Ronald,” Dean cleared his throat, “just some things about your statement we wanted to get some clarification on.” 

“You read it?” 

“Sure did.” 

“You’ve come to listen to what I've got to say?” 

“That’s why we’re here.” 

“Well, come on in.” We entered, and he led us to a cluttered room with stuff about ghosts and androids. “None of the cops ever called me back. Not after I told them what was really going on. Uh, they all thought I was crazy. First off, Juan Morales never robbed the Milwaukee National Trust, okay? That, I guarantee. See, we and Juan were friends. He used to come back to the bank on my night shifts, and we'd play cards.” 

“So you let him into the bank that night, after hours.” Sam frowned. 

“The thing I let into the bank . . . wasn't Juan. I mean, it had his face, but it wasn't his face. Uh, every detail was perfect, but too perfect, you know, like if a dollmaker made it, like I was talking to a big Juan-doll.” 

“A Juan-doll?” 

“Look. This wasn't the only time this happened. Okay?” He handed me a folder, and I flicked through it. Dude could be a hunter if he wanted to, cause he’s followed this thing closely. “There was this jewelry store, too. And the cops, a--and you guys, you just won't see it! Both crimes were pulled by the same thing.” 

“And what’s that, Mr Resnick?” I asked, looking up from the folder. He held up a magazine called the ‘Fortean Times’, with the headline ‘BIRTH OF THE CYBERMEN’. 

“Chinese've been working on 'em for years. And the Russians before that. Part men, part machine. Like the Terminator. But the kind that can change itself, make itself look like other people.” 

“Like the one from T2.” Dean smirked. 

“Exactly! See, so not just a robot, more of a-a-a-a ... mandroid.” 

“A mandroid?” Sam blinked. 

“And what makes you so sure about this, Ronald?” Dean challenged. Ronald held up a finger, then played a security tape. 

“See, I made copies of all the security tapes. I knew once the cops got them they'd be buried. Here.” He fast forwarded it. “Now watch. Watch. Watch him, watch, watch! See, look! Th-th-there it is!” He paused it just as Juan turned to the camera, a flare in his eyes. Shapeshifter’s eyes flare when they face a camera. “You see? He's got the laser eyes.” Dean, Sam and I shared a look. “Cops said it was some kind of reflected light. Some kind of "camera flare". Okay? Ain't no damn camera flare. They say I'm a post-trauma case. So what? Bank goes and fires me, it don't matter! The mandroid is-is still out there. The law won't hunt this thing down- I'll do it myself. You see, this thing, it, it, it kills the real person, makes it look like a suicide, then it sorta, like, morphs into that person. Cases the job for a while until it knows the take is fat, and then it finds its opening. Now, these robberies, they're, they're grouped together. So I figure the mandroid is holed up somewhere in the middle, underground, maybe. I dunno, maybe that's where it recharges its, uh, mandroid batteries.“ 

We stood up, and Sam stepped forward. “Okay. I want you to listen very carefully. Because I'm about to tell you the God's honest truth about all of this.” Sam sighed. “There's no such thing as mandroids. There's nothing evil or inhuman going on out there. Just people. Nothing else, you understand?” THE HELL-

“The laser eyes-“ 

“Just a camera flare, Mr. Resnick. See, I know you don't want to believe this. But your friend Juan robbed the bank and that's it.” 

“Get out of my house! Now!” 

“Sure, sir. First things first.”

We were at my safe house in Milwaukee, and I unlocked the door, and once we got inside, I rounded on Sam. “Classified evidence of an ongoing case?” I scoffed, hanging up my jacket and taking off my heels. “Just people? Dude, you just crushed Resnick’s resolve.” 

“What are you, pissed at me or something?” 

“You’re a good actor, Sam.” I sighed. “But you’re not meant to be that good. His file was legit, it was the level of the work we’ve been doing. We could at least appraise him for his work.” 

“Yeah, except he's not a hunter. He's just a guy who stumbled onto something real. If he were to go up against this thing he'd get torn apart. Better to stay in the dark, and stay alive.” 

“You don’t have to do him like that, though.” I ran a hand through my hair. “Instant noodles, anyone?” 

“Anytime.” Dean grinned. 

“I’m gonna change first, though.” I went upstairs, and Carl sprang out of the jacket, joining Sam at the table and writing something. 

She was jealous earlier. 

“Jealous of Frannie?” Dean scoffed. “Please.” 

“Girls have emotions.” Sam shrugged. “She seemed kind of worked up, though, when she dragged you away from that receptionist.” 

“Shut up.”

We were all eating instant noodles, and I drew on our map. 

“Shapeshifter. Just like back in St. Louis.” I confirmed. “Same retinal reaction to video.” 

“Eyes flare at the camera. I hate those friggin' things.” Dean grumped. 

“You think we don’t?” Sam scoffed. 

“One didn’t turn into you and frame you for murder.” 

“Yeah, but they’re damn hard to catch.” I frowned. “This is gonna be difficult, especially if it’s like the one you guys wasted in Missouri.” 

“Then Ronald was right. All right, they like to layer up underground, preferably the sewer. And all the robberies have been connected so far, right?” 

“Yeah.” Sam nodded. 

“I see where you’re going.” I deduced then Carl circled a bank. “There’s one more on that sewer main. So if it’s the next target, this shifter isn’t gonna wait a bit. We need to hit this bank as soon as possible. However, it could risk both of you getting exposed.” 

“It’s worth the risk.” Dean nodded, then shovelled noodles into his mouth. 

“Carl, can you draw me up a layout of that bank?” I asked, then Carl started sketching out the bank blueprints. 

“We need to load up.” Sam resolved. “Cause then Milwaukee PD could show up and if they get wind we’re here, the Feds.” 

I was wearing a black jumpsuit, wearing a brunette wig in a ponytail as I posed as a wealthy customer. Dean kept on giving me once-overs, and had whistled when he first saw me. I walked over to the receptionist, adopting a British accent. “Selene Windsor.” 

“Right, I had the note that you were coming.” She nodded. “Right this way, ma’am.” I was led down the same path as Dean and Sam, talking in a haughty manner. 

“If I’m to entrust my money here, I need to know that it’s secure. It doesn’t seem that way if technicians are having to come down.” I hugged. 

“Just a general software bug, ma’am.” Dean smirked, his eyes flicking down my body for the fiftieth time. 

“So I can’t trust my money to this bank.” I retorted. “I want to check this system myself.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” The receptionist guided me to the room which Sam and Dean were going to, then ran away. 

“All righty. You guys need anything else?” The guard asked. 

“Oh, no, no, we'll be, uh, we'll be in and out before you know it, just a routine check.” Sam excused. 

“Okie-dokie.” He left, and I sighed in relief, taking off my wig and releasing my hair from its bun. 

“I like him. He says ‘Okie-dokie.’” Dean snorted, wheeling to face me.

“But what if he’s the shifter?” I asked, running my fingers through my hair. 

“Well, then we follow him home, put a silver bullet through his chestplate.” I walked over to him, reaching behind me. 

“Can you undo my zip?” 

“W-What?” 

“Just do it!” He unzipped my jumpsuit, and it fell to the floor, revealing a black crop top and blue shorts underneath, and I changed my shoes to running boots. Dean breathed a sigh of relief, making me laugh. “You didn’t think I’d publicly ask you to undress me? Keep dreaming.” I sat down, wheeling up on a chair. 

“Okay. Well, you got any popcorn in that purse?” I pulled it out of my purse (yes, it also has the extension spell), handing it to him. “Thanks.” We watched the screens for a while, but we found no camera flare on the guard’s eyes.

”Maybe he just loves his job.” I shrugged. “Cause Mr Okie-Dokie is, well, okie-dokie.”

“Maybe we jumped the gun on this.” Sam fretted. “I mean, we don't even know it's here. Maybe we should just go back to the sewers and… and-“ I rolled up a piece of paper, slapping Dean on the head with it. 

“Dean, focus. We’re meant to be looking for the shifter.” 

“I'm getting there.” Dean retorted. 

“Oh, really?” 

“Wait.” A middle aged man turned to the camera, and his eyes flared. We turned to each other, nodding. “Hello, freak.”

”Got him.” Sam whispered before bolting to the door, but I spotted something else. 

“Sam!” I called, zooming in on that screen. 

“Yeah?” 

“Look.” Ronald was locking and bolting the door shut, holding an assault rifle. “Sweet cheese. It’s Ronald.”

“And you said we shouldn't bring guns.” Dean groaned. 

“I didn’t know this was gonna happen, Dean.” Sam grimaced. 

“Speak for yourselves.” I smirked, taking my gun out of my ankle holster. They stared at the gun, dumbfounded. “Yeah, I come prepared. Even if you tell me no. Just let me do the talking. I don't think he likes you very much, Agent Johnson.“ I hid my gun in my purse as we found Ronald.

“Now, there's only one way in or out of here, and I chained it up.” Ronald yelled. “So nobody's leaving, do you understand?” 

“Hey, buddy. Calm down. Just calm down.” Dean tried to bargain as we entered. 

“What the- you! Get on the floor, now.” 

“Okay, we're doing that. Just don't shoot anybody, especially us.” 

“I knew it. As soon as you two left. You ain't FBI. Who are you? Who are you working for, huh? The men in black? You working for the mandroid?” 

“We’re not working for the mandroid!” Sam burst out. 

“You, shut up! I ain't talking to you. I don't like you.” 

“Told you so.” I whispered, then put my hands up. 

“Fair enough.” Sam grumbled.

“Get on 'em.” Ronald ordered a middle-aged man. “Frisk them down, make sure they got no weapons on them. Go!” I was frisked down, but they found nothing. Then they frisked Dean, but they found a knife in his boot. 

“Dean!” I hissed. That obvious?

“I wasn’t gonna walk in naked!” Dean replied quietly. “You’re one to talk.” 

“Hey, hey, Ronald, listen to me.” I spoke up, my hands up as I cautiously approached him. “We know you don't want to hurt anybody. That's exactly what's gonna happen if you keep waving that rifle around, and why don't you let these people go?” 

“No! I already told you. If nobody's gonna stop this thing, then I've got to do it myself.” 

“Why do you think we’re here? We believe you.” 

“You don't believe me. Nobody believes me! How could they?” 

“Tell you what, c’mere.” 

“What?! No!” 

“You have the gun.” Well, that wasn’t true. “You’re the boss here, and I can’t do squat. Just trust me.” Ronald then approached me, and I lowered my voice. “It’s the manager. Why do you think we've got these getups, huh? We've been monitoring the cameras in the back. We saw the bank manager. We saw his eyes.” 

“His laser eyes?” 

“Whatever you wanna call ‘em, but we did.” I nodded. “But we’re running out of time. We need to get him before he changes into someone else.” 

“Like I'm gonna listen to you. You're a damn liar.” 

“Doesn’t mean I ain’t a truther. And my partner told you that lie, not me. If you don’t trust me, hold a gun on me and take me hostage. But we've gotta act fast. Because the longer we just sit here the more time he has to change. Look at me, man. I believe you. You're not crazy. There really is something inside this bank.” I paused, “Do I look like someone who’d lie to you?” 

“All right. You come with me. But everyone else gets in the vault!” 

“Check behind the desk.” I ordered as I went into a back room. Then I heard a yell, and I instantly rushed out. Ronald had fallen, and was lying next to a pile of shed skin. He screamed, standing up and pointing his gun at it. 

“What the hell is that?” He squealed. 

“Great.” I grimaced, turning on a lamp. “It sheds its skin when it changes. So now, it could be anybody.”

“It's so, so weird. Its robot skin is so lifelike.” 

“Alright, Ronald, let me get this straight.” I huffed. “It's not an mandroid. It's a shapeshifter.“ 

“Shapeshifter?“

”Yeah. I mean, it's human, more or less. Has human drives- and in this case it's money. But it generates its own skin, it can shape it to match someone else's features, you know, taller, shorter, male, etcetera.” 

“So it-it-it kills someone and then takes their place.” 

“Kills them, doesn't kill them, I don't think it really matters.” I shrugged, rummaging in my purse. 

“What are you doing?” I pulled out my gun, replacing it with silver bullets. “You had that the whole time?!” 

“Want me to be honest?” 

“Yeah!” 

“Yes, I did.” I stored the other cartridge, turning to him. “You remember the old werewolf stories? Pretty much came from these guys. Silver's the only thing I've seen that hurts them.” I started walking, then stopped. “C’mon, Ronald.” We walked down a hallway, and I heard Ronald started chuckling. “What are you, nuts?” 

“That's just it. I'm not nuts.” He laughed. “I mean, I was so scared that I was losing my marbles. But this is real! I mean, I, I, I was right! Except for the mandroid thing. Thank you.” 

“Don’t mention it.” Then the power went out, and I cursed. “Damn it. Not now, not now!” 

“What is it?” 

“They cut the power. Probably their way of saying hi.” 

“Who?” 

“The cops.” 

“THE COPS?!” 

“What did you think would happen?” I hissed. “Well, you weren't exactly a smooth criminal about this, Ron. I mean, you didn't even secure the security guard. He probably called them.” 

“I-I didn’t think I-“ 

“All right, hang on, hang on, let's just take a breath here for a second, all right? They — they've probably got us surrounded. They've cut the power to the cameras so there's no way of telling who the shapeshifter is. So I’m gonna be honest; it’s not looking good.” We heard a noise, to which Ron brought his rifle up. “D’you hear that?” We stalked down, finding three more people, including the guard. “Alright, get up!” I barked, and they followed us to the vault. I opened it, and Dean and Sam were relieved to see that I was alive. “Sam, Dean, look, uh, Ronald and I need to talk to you. Also, a few more prisoners.” I shut the door behind me when Dean and Sam climbed out. “It's shed its skin again. We don't know when - it could be in the halls, it could be in the vault.” 

“Great. You know, Dean, you are wanted by the police.” Sam pointed out. 

“He is, but I need his help. We’re gonna tackle one problem at a time, yeah? Dean and I are gonna sweep the place, find some stragglers if they’re there. Sam, you help Ron manage-“ 

“Help him manage?! Are you insane?” 

“‘Fraid so, cause everyone here is in danger, Sam. This is the plan we’ve got. Once we’re done, I’ll come back to you and we’ll play Find the Freak.” I took out a letter opener I’d swiped. “Anyone makes a suspicious move, use it.” I took out another gun and gave it to Dean. “Alright, let’s do this.” 

“How do you know all this?” Dean asked. 

“You’re forgetting that I have a romantic relationship with a police officer. Who has done hostage negotiations and raids in the past.” I sighed. “Look, I know this isn't going the way we wanted-“ 

“Understatement.” Sam growled. 

“-but if we invite the cops in right now, Ronald gets arrested, we get arrested, the shifter gets away, probably never find it again, okay?” I turned to Ron. “Ron! Out of the light!” 

“Seriously?!” 

“Yeah, Ron's game plan was a bad plan, I mean, it was a bit of a crazy plan, but right now crazy's the only game in town, okay? Dean, come with me.” Dean and I walked off. 

A while later, I walked back after my sweep, finding Ron dead. I glared at Dean and Sam, who put their hands up. “Ok, this has gone way too far. The shifter ran away cause you let him out and now he’s probably a completely different person. Well done, you handled this perfectly.” I sighed. “Dean, get a hostage outside. Unharmed. Now!” Dean took the guard, going to the door. I bent down beside Ron, hefting his body out of the light.

“We are so screwed.” Dean grumbled when he latched the door again. I peered outside, seeing black vans pull up while Dean talked to Sam. 

“We have a problem!” I yelled. 

Outside, a man in an FBI jacket approached the Milwaukee PD. “Lieutenant Robards.” He barked. 

“Yeah.” Robards replied. 

“Special Agent Henriksen.” 

“Let me guess. You're lead dog now, but you would just love my full cooperation.” 

“I don't give a rat's ass what you do, you can go get a donut for all I care. What I do need is your S.W.A.T. team locked and loaded.” 

“Listen, Agent. Something's not right about this. It's, um ... it's not going down like a usual heist.” 

“That's because it isn't one. You have no idea what you're dealing with, do you? There is a monster in that bank, Robards.” 

I picked up the landline, gritting my teeth. “Yeah?” 

‘This is Special Agent Victor Henriksen.’ 

“Yeah, listen, I'm not really in the negotiating mood right now, so–”

‘Good. Me neither. It's my job to bring Dean in. Alive's a bonus but not necessary.’ 

“How do you-“ 

‘Yeah, I know. I want you, Dean and Sam out here, unarmed. Or we come in. And yes, I know about Sam too. And you, Ivonne Rainer. You’re the Bonnie to Dean’s Clyde, aren’t you?’ 

“No comment. How'd you even know we were here?” 

‘Go screw yourself, that's how I knew. It's become my job to know about you. I've been looking for you for weeks now. I know about the murders in Jersey, I know about the Houdini act you pulled in Baltimore. I know about the desecrations and the thefts. I know about your family. Especially that father of yours. Some father he was, huh?.’ 

“You don’t know jack squat about my dad.” 

‘Ex-Army general. Trained you since you were a young girl, put you in martial arts and taught you every method of survival. Most of your time was spent in a little cabin in the woods. Real militaristic survival.’

”Shut your mouth.” 

‘Ooh, she’s got claws. Never expected it by someone who was raised like a soldier.’ 

“What do you want?” 

‘All three of you, unarmed. You have one hour to make a decision or we come through those doors full automatic.’ He hung up, and I punched the table. 

“Damn it!” 

“Scramble your men, five minutes, then we go in.” Henriksen ordered, standing up. 

“What? Henriksen, they've let out one hostage so far. They've hurt no one as far as we can tell.” Robards frowned. 

“You don't know these Winchesters, and Rainer, especially her. They're dangerous, smart, and expertly trained.” 

“We can't risk the lives of all those people-“ 

“We know enough about the Winchesters to know that they’re insane, but don’t get me started on Ivonne Rainer.” He sized Robards up. “The Winchesters look and sound deadly, but Rainer’s a devil in disguise. Looks innocent, and hell, can she act innocent. Girl could be a mercenary in stilettos or in combat boots and a leather jacket and you wouldn’t see her coming until you’re on the floor with a bullet through your brain. She’s smart, she’s calculating, and has wormed her way out of serious charges twice, so she’s manipulative too. She didn’t hesitate before shooting her brother in self defence, and her boyfriend too, twice in the chest in cold, hard blood. She’s as dangerous as these Winchesters, maybe even more. A pretty face, but armed as hell.” 

“This is crazy.” 

“Crazy’s in there, and I just hung up on his right hand woman.” 

I went to the boys, grimacing. “We have a problem outside.” 

“We have a problem in here.” Sam opened the vault, and Dean let Sherry out. 

“We’re gonna let you go, Sherry.” Dean smiled. 

“What? Why?” Sherry whimpered. 

“As, uh, a good show of faith to the feds.” We led her into another room, where her dead body was kept. 

“I thought you were letting me go.” She whispered, but then took one look at the body and started screaming. 

“Is that community theater, or are you just naturally that good?” 

“Tonight’s the last night you become anybody. Ever.” Sam smirked. Dean raised his gun, but then she fainted. He was about to shoot, but I put out my hand, shaking my head. 

“It can’t be her. Fainting’s not gonna save her, the shifter’s smart enough to know that.” I frowned. 

“Huh.” Dean knelt over the dead body, but then it opened his eyes and began wrestling with Dean. Sherry woke, and backed into Sam, who took her out of the way as she cried. I joined in on the fight, gesturing for Sam to clear Sherry out of the way as Dean got knocked in the chin. I slammed the shifter against the wall, taking out my gun, but I got headbutted, releasing my hold as the shifter bolted. I ran after it, but I’d lost it. Then I got rammed into a room, hand on my throat. I kicked the shifter away, sweeping its legs and managing to grab my gun again, shooting it in the chest. It cried out for a moment, but then went limp. I found my purse, taking out my wig and jumpsuit and slipping both of those back on while I met Dean and Sam, who were wearing S.W.A.T uniforms. 

“Who d’you strip to get those?” I sighed.

”Two officers that I knocked out.” Sam answered casually. 

“We’re so screwed.” Dean breathed. 

“Royally screwed, Dean.” I grimaced. We turned on the Impala’s radio, driving off.

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