#dean king

Just like the damn blimp, if it could even be considered that anymore. Blimps normally didn't have fully automatic machine guns attached to them, they also didn't usually have a fucking weasel swinging it around the top of the only rooftop that hadn't been ravaged by the chemical gas below. Frankie's time in the army had unfortunately come into play, the only thing that had stopped Dean from murdering him when he still had himself on the roof. It made Dean think as he dove from cover to cover, avoiding the hail of gunfire being rained down on him from Frankie's backup plan.

If it hadn't been for the bastards mistake, Dean wasn't sure he would've actually gotten the upper hand.

Frankie had gotten cocky (he assumed, at least), reaching away from his mounted machine gun, to grab onto a rocket launcher. He was either stupid to arm himself like that, or insane. Dean figured both. He was busy trying to set it up on his shoulder to fire down on the roof, leaving himself vulnerable, unable to move away in time. Just a single stray would send him back. He didn't need to be accurate, just aim in the general direction.

Keeping that thought fresh in his head, he aimed his Thompson up. Frankie wasn't even looking, the dumb prick. That allowed Dean to begin spraying, he kept the gun held down in the area that Frankie's body was in, and although most bullets just hit the blimp- it was the few strays that got him. First, it whizzed right past his head. Then, it clipped him. Right in the shoulder, enough to make him lose his grip. The rocket fell forward as he fell back, and like a delivery from God, it landed damn near right in front of Dean.

The blimp couldn't go down, he needed it to get out. That machine gun though, that could go. He would've loved to stop and think about the logistics. Like how the armor Frankie had put on the blimp may have ripped off and ruined his chance of escape from the splash radius alone, or how the gun's weight being blown to hell would shift the weight of everything- but he couldn't. It had to go down, or he didn't have a chance in hell at getting out with his life.

Dean shot out of cover, dropping his Thompson to grab onto the launcher, his hands grasping at it as he moved them to hold it semi-properly. If he were less desperate, maybe he would've been worried that the fall it had taken would result in a misfire when he attempted to use it. So many things that could go wrong, but he was forced to take each chance. If he didn't, he was going to die. And he refused to die in that shithole.

Rolling onto his back, he took a moment. Frankie was still getting back up after taking his own tumble, and he hadn't even yet noticed that he'd lost his second biggest advantage. He had to aim, if he shot dead at the blimp, it was going down, and he'd be stuck. A moving target, at an angle, while not even holding it over his shoulder. He'd have to be the luckiest son of a bitch alive to nail it from there.

Do or die.

He slammed down on the trigger, and watched with bated breath as the rocket propelled from the tube of a weapon, moving towards the blimps gun. It felt as if everything was going slower, his entire life came down to that single shot. He could just barely see Frankie in the blimp still, eyes widening as realization dawned on him as to what was really happening.

Impact was inevitable, Dean watched with nothing short of absolute relief as the rocket crashed into the gun, almost instantly exploding. The armor on the blimp shook, before coming off with the sheer force of the explosion. Frankie was also hit by it, still being close, the blast radius sent him flying back and slamming against the innards of the blimp. Nothing was stopping Dean from boarding now.

They both knew that, and both reacted appropriately. Frankie began to get up and reach the controls, trying to get the blimp away fast enough, before Dean could make a move. Although he could barely move, courtesy of being so close to the explosion just moments before. Unfortunately for him, Dean had already rushed to his feet. The launcher found it's place at the ground once more, being chucked off to the side as Dean sprinted at full speed to the ledge, before pushing himself off of it to leap forward.

He latched onto the bottom of the entrance, his knuckles turning ghastly white as he gripped with every bit of force he had. Dean's arms strained as he pulled up, folding over onto the inside of the blimp with his upper half as he dragged the rest of himself in behind, before sitting up on his knees to stare. Frankie was sitting on his ass, far away from any gun to defend himself. Like he had every other time Dean got close, he tried to talk.

"I was.. I was kiddin', y'know?" Frankie pushed on a fake smile, lying through his teeth. Dean sneered, getting up to his feet. "I ain't laughing." He snarled, taking quick and furious stomps towards the other male. "You fottuto maniaco. You killed the entire city, Bellucio, tried to kill ME- and guess what?"

Dean got down on one knee just in front of Frankie, leaning in close. "You lost."

He grabbed Frankie by the side of the head with one hand, before slamming him down into the floor. Dean cocked his other arm back, before punching down into his skull. His already bruised and battered knuckles cracked against his cranium, but the sounds of Frankie's cries gave him the proper motivation to keep pounding.

It was therapeutic, a single target to unleash a night full of frustrations out on. He almost forgot about the screaming pain in every part of his body, the strained and worn out feeling that rumbled throughout every last muscle. He'd been pushed to his very limits, and made to go past them. At least he knew he could survive some crazy shit now.

However long it had been, 15 seconds, or 15 minutes, Dean didn't care. Time became nothing more than a figment of his imagination, but reality was still very much there. The gas was rising, and he needed to go. But there was one last thing he could do.

"Cmon." Dean grunted, finally ceasing his assault as the grip on Frankie's hair tightened. He stood up, pulling the other along with him back to the entrance. He shoved him back to the floor as he let go, replacing his hand with his shoe to his back. It was as if Frankie could read his mind, immediately beginning to sputter out. "You can't... You can't kill me! You need me!"

Dean glanced over to the controls, just a stick he could steer. Hopefully it wasn't anymore complicated than that. "I can figure it out... Cmon, Frankie." He paused, pressing forward with his shoe ever so slightly. "You like to fly, dontcha?"

There was a shout from Frankie as Dean gave the final push forward, kicking him straight out of the blimp, directly into the gassed and destroyed Thugtown below. If he wasn't dead from the gas alone, the landing was going to make him nothing more than a stain on the ground below.

It was over. Through blood, sweat, and a lot more blood, he'd managed to pull through. He looked down at himself, at his torn up suit. His sleeves were ripped apart, his vest had been cut open, flashes of his white dress shirt beaming through. At least, in the spots where it wasn't soaked in blood and guts.

While Adam looked out of the locked up cafés windows, they could still see it. Blood stains on the sidewalk, beat up cars as a result of people being slammed into them, store owners loading their firearms which were beyond necessary. They had stopped listening to Dean and Kitberry's ninth argument of the day from the other side of the booth, just inspecting what they could from their seat.

Anthony took a moment to sneak a peek at Adam and whatever they were staring at. He was pleasantly surprised to see nothing more than the already existing marks.

He hummed in acknowledgement, which incentivized Adam to look back. "Not so bad right now." They offered, to which Anthony rolled his shoulders. "Right now." He retorted.

Dean looked over. "What're you two talkin' about?" He asked, putting he and Kitberry's petty squabble on pause. Adam tilted his head, using it to gesture outside. "Not so bad right now. Anthony thinks-"

"Knows." Anthony chimed in.

"-okay, yeah, knows it'll be worse later."

It was true. Everyone at the table knew it. It was rare enough to not hear some kind of scrap from anywhere in the city at any point, so an empty street in the middle of the day just meant it was going to be worse than usual later.

Dean stared outside, his lip curling upward with frustration while his nose scrunched. "This fucking place." He spoke quietly, fist clenching on the table. "Y'know, when was the last time you even saw a cop on the street?"

"That's not exactly a bad thing." Kitberry pointed out, and everyone could hear the smile on her face (if she had one, Dean had theorized she never took the mask off because she didn't for a long time. Kit never confirmed nor denied that) from under the mask.

Dean just scoffed. "You get what I mean though! No ones in control except for... What, the mob? How much are you willing to bet that they're paying the cops to just stay the hell outta stuff?" He raved, opening his fist to wave his hand at the window.

It was a good point. He neglected to mention the other groups in the city that seemed to be around every corner with no real reason- not any one that they knew at least- but the idea still got across.

They went quiet. The state of the city was something that had always loomed over every waking moment, it was impossible to really forget about it all. Talking about it so directly was still almost touchy.

Dean looked down at the table, and Adams head drifted back to stare out of the window. Anthony let his hand rest on their thigh as some sense of comfort in the moment.

"Someone should do something." Adam muttered to momentarily break the silence, which overtook them again right after.

About ten or so seconds of quiet continued, though when Kitberry looked at Dean to try and see what he was doing in that time- she could almost see a twinkle in his eye. Then he spoke.

"We should do something."

That got the rest of the groups attention, who snapped looked at him.

"What?" Adam just stared at him.

"We're sitting on our asses, bitching about how bad the city is, right?"

"You mean you're doing that." Kitberry snickered.

"I will stab you." He warned after turning to look at her, then back to the group. "I'm serious though! I can fight, I know Anthony can-" Dean proclaimed, pointing to the taller male. "-you and you, not so sure, but it isn't too hard." He added on, flicking his finger between Kit and Adam.

Anthony seemed to get lost in thought as Dean explained. Yet again, he had a point.

"Most of those bastards can't throw a good punch. And if they can? There would be four of us! It wouldn't even matter! We could do something instead of bitching that there's nothing we could do, you get that?" Dean paused. "We could make a difference, or at least try."

He was so dead set in his thoughts. With how he worded it, it seemed as though it was a thought in his head before. Just one he'd never acted on or expressed.

Anthony was the one to speak, which was a surprise in general, even more so right then.

"Worth trying." He said in agreement. "...I'll take that chance."

Dean beamed at that, an almost childlike smile shining off of his face while he leaned over the table and held his hand out.

"That's my man." He laughed as Anthony reached his own hand out to dap him up, their palms slapping together before their fingers curled against down them and against each other.

Both sat back down, and Kitberry was next in the conversation. "Fuck it." She shrugged. "Why not?"

Why not was one of her main philosophies when it came to anything. A simple one that anyone could appreciate, because it also meant that if shit hit the fan- she'd have your back. Dean could name a few times off the top of his head she'd come in clutch for him.

Then the attention went to Adam, and Anthony found himself holding their thigh a little tighter. "You don't have to." He murmured. Adam gave him a small smile while they put their hand over his. "It'd be nice to have you along though." Dean said, "But if you can't, there's no shame in it."

Adam glanced back outside. Back to the bloodstains, the signs of fights and constant injustice because no one was doing a goddamn thing. It was an infection of violence that scorched everyone around it with its blast radius, and they would be charging headfirst into the fire to fight it off with a stronger flame.

They wouldn't just be another bystander to it. Their attention focused back in on the other three.

"I'm in." They declared. Dean harshly clapped with a cheering yell, "Atta'boy!" And that smile was back on his face.

He made constant jokes about them being the weakest in the group (a lot more playfully when Anthony was around, he wasn't looking to get into a fight with the big fuck because he thought it was a little too serious) but when it truly came down to it, they weren't a coward. He respected it more than they'd ever know.

Anthony kept staring at Adam. "Are you sure about this?" He asked quietly, they just nodded back. "Yeah. We'll all be together. And, y'know, I can handle myself."

"Ehh... Sorta." He teased, Adam rolled their eyes as they held back a larger grin. "I'm sure." They confirmed again, squeezing his hand gently. Anthony nodded. He knew he'd be looking out for them more than Dean and Kit- partially because he knew Dean and Kitberry could handle themselves- mostly because he just refused to let Adam get hurt. (Not that he wanted to see the other two get fucked up mind you.)

Dean looked around at the three of them. "Tomorrow. At 12. We all meet in that alleyway, y'know, near the garage where the guy sells weapons and shit?" He explained. "We start then."

The others agreed with hums of agreement and nodding their heads.

"What weapon do you use?" He asked as they approached the menu. "War hammer." Anthony grunted back, going through the options to find just that. "A fucking what?" Dean's eyes widened. Anthony simply pointed to the preview menu ahead of them. He looked up, getting a good look at the tool. It was just how it sounded, a giant fucking hammer that was half the size of Dean.

Anthony glanced over to Dean. "...you're not using a weapon?" He asked. Dean simply shook his head. "I got a molotov. Then, y'know." He gestured broadly at himself, "I ain't swinging around some shit like a chainsaw, so it's a lot easier to just move faster than someone to kill them." Dean explained. The taller male nodded. "Hm." He hummed, staring at the menu again. "Now?" Dean nodded back.

With a quick press of a button, the two were warped into the battlefield.

Both could automatically hear the screaming and sounds of war just off in the distance. It was commonplace for something like this, neither seemed all too bothered by it. Dean looked around, clenching his hands into tight fists. "So, you wanna jump some motherfuckers?" He asked, grinning wickedly while he turned his head to look up at Anthony.

Anthony stopped to think for a moment. It could be fun, he figured. "Yeah." Dean didn't stop the small cheer he let out at that, "Sick. Let's go then." He said, walking ahead of Anthony and gesturing for the other to follow. He did so, keeping a death grip on his weapon. "Last time I was here, I tore a guy's throat out." Dean commented. "I... Think he had a sledgehammer?"

He could feel the stare in the back of his head grow a little harder against him. "Dumb bastard just figured a bigger weapon meant he could win. He was slow." He took a moment. "No offense to you, obviously." Dean clarified, looking back. "Unless you can't fight for shit with that thing. And if that's so," he turned back ahead of him. "Then you should take full offense."

There was no response. Dean didn't actually mind the silence from talking with (or at) Anthony. It was peaceful, in a way. He liked rambling, and Anthony seemed to listen. Dean just hoped he wasn't secretly wishing he'd shut the fuck up, or something like that. The way he figured it, just so he didn't worry? He nearly choked out Anthony in a ring. If he didn't at least like him a bit, Anthony wouldn't have talked to him afterwards.

It's not like it really mattered. They had something else at hand.

Dean stared off into the distance. He could see figures brawling. The clashing of metal, wails that turned into the echoes of death, the smell of blood that attacked his nose made him wince. "There we go." He laughed through it. "You ready?" He asked, glancing over as Anthony got up to his side. "Mhm." He confirmed quietly. "Then let's get a fuckin' move on, I don't wanna miss out."

And with that, Dean was off in a sprint. Anthony took a second before following. Despite the fact he was carrying considerably more, he was able to keep up with Dean fairly easily. It's not like the brunette actually noticed, he had his sights locked on one target in particular. "Blonde one." He huffed, "Machetes." Anthony turned a bit to see just who he was talking about.

He found her quickly. Her blades were coated with other players essence. The question wasn't could they take her, it was how fast they could drop her. "Put that bitch down." Dean said, slowing down his run while they approached her. "I'm finishing this one." And Anthony went ahead. She could've seen the two from a mile away, it was hard not to. She raised her machetes in preparation for a fight.

Anthony rushed forward. Both of the blondes machetes were lifted above her head, before being swung down. Anthony pulled his own weapon up, letting the blades dig into the wooden handle of the hammer. She wasn't able to pull them back in time before Anthony kicked her back. His shoe was shot into her stomach, knocking her away. Not down though.

The opponent was still attempting to pull herself together. Anthony took the opportunity by the neck. He pulled the hammer back and swung it low, aiming for her legs. It practically shattered them upon impact. She hit the ground, one machete being dropped. To her credit, she still tried to keep herself in the fight by holding onto one.

Anthony stepped away. Luckily for him, at the perfect time. Dean sprinted forward and lunged forwards, landing on top of the incapacitated enemy. She let out a cry as his weight crashed into her. Dean grabbed onto the hand that still held the machete, squeezing it tight and holding it against the ground. His other hand went back, and then back forward into her skull.

People in this world were much easier to kill. They fell apart like paper in water. So the heavy punches that slammed into her head again and again began to tear her face apart. In the real world he would've shattered his fist and only caused her to choke on her own blood. But here she would be torn to shreds.

Anthony watched with mild interest as Dean beat her to death. The manic glee that spread across his face mixed with the blood of their enemy painted him in a new light. He didn't say anything about it. It was a game and he was having fun, wasn't that the entire idea?

Once it was done, her face had been turned into a bowl of beaten brain matter and shattered bone. Dean sighed deeply as he pulled himself off of her. "You see anything el-" He was cut off by a sudden shove from Anthony, forcing him to stagger. There was a moment of rage. An urge to shout and take a swing- then he saw just why he'd been shoved.

An arrow. It narrowly flew by his head. Anthony had gotten him out of the way just in the nick of time. "Fuck!" Dean gasped as he turned to who had tried to shoot him. "Fucker- FUCKER!" He growled. He clambered to the corpse he'd made before his hand latched onto one of her machetes. Dean stood back up and took a second. Anthony watched closely.

Dean pulled his arm back, before taking a step forward and leaning down while he launched the weapon at the would-be assassin. It soared through the air. He wasn't looking up, he was too busy trying to reload his crossbow to get another shot off. He didn't even get a look at what his demise was.

It pierced his neck, the tip of the blade finely carving through his throat and bringing the rest of it in with it. Dean cheered as he turned to Anthony. "You see that shit?!" He smiled like a giddy kid. Anthony nodded. "Impressive." The taller male admitted. "Oh, uh- thanks. For... Y'know." Dean nodded his head towards the now dead archer. "Not letting me get shot."

Anthony just shrugged. "It's fine." He started to walk away. "More. Over here." Dean was quick to get to his side. Thankfully the group Anthony had seen was only across a street, and they were too busy fighting amongst themselves to see the duo coming. "I count four." Dean reached into his jacket.

He took out his molotov and a lighter. "Wanna pick 'em off?" Dean asked. Anthony stared at the bottle before he looked back to the group. "Do it." He confirmed. Dean flicked the zippo lighter open and held the flame up to the rag that stuck out of the bottle. It caught fire in seconds. He pulled his arm back yet again before throwing it forward. The plan wasn't to kill someone with it, it was to simply make the group scatter like rats.

Flames burst out from the point of contact that the bottle smashed against. Those who were fighting quickly got out of the way, caught off guard and confused as to who had thrown it. Dean darted ahead and cocked his arm back while he got closer to them. Anthony didn't question his means. He trusted the ends would make it worthwhile.

Dean focused on one man, sending his fist into his jaw when close enough. He held a fire axe, and he looked like he knew how to use it. Anthony hadn't followed behind him. With four others around it would be stupid to go after one at a time with two of them. When one came rushing up around the fire to try and catch them, he jumped into action.

Anthony sent the head of his hammer into the attacker's stomach. He cried out at the force of the blow and took a step back. Anthony looked at his weapon of choice as it was swung at him in blind desperation. He took a quick step back to avoid the slash of the sickle, his eyes narrowed.

There were another few swings the man took. They were clumsy. He was too eager to try and take Anthony down that he thought a few sloppy cuts would hit. Each one was evaded, Anthony weaving and stepping away whenever it got close. He could've found it funny, had it not just grown annoying after the second one.

It did stop though. The man had taken a swing too risky, leaving him hunched over in front of the avatar. Anthony snapped the handle of the hammer up. The wood cracked the man's face and made him jerk upright. One hand raised to try and protect his face, though it did little to defend him from the incoming swing of the metal.

His head was obliterated on impact. The head of the hammer was swung right through his skull, leaving him as nothing more than a corpse with a lone neck that sprayed out blood. Anthony pulled the hammer back as the body collapsed. It was messy, and his clothes had gotten more splatter on him than he would've liked. Anthony changed his attention back to Dean to get a look at how he was fairing.

The situation for him had grown a little worse. The roars of a chainsaw as it was slashed through the air Dean occupied before moving away had caught his senses. Another had slipped past while Anthony was busy fighting and joined in on attacking Dean, who hadn't been given a moment to try and fight back. With two on him at once, it left him narrowly dodging and pushing back against his attackers when he got the chance. When King saw Anthony turn he called out.

"NEED A HAND- PLEASE?" He yelped. It was clear he didn't like asking for help, but fighting back effectively against two enemies who were armed with a chainsaw and axe was something even he couldn't do.

Anthony moved over as fast as his legs would allow. He targeted the one with the chainsaw, sending his hammer into his back. The attacker crumpled, his chainsaw dropping just beneath him. He caught himself on his hands to hold himself above it. Dean finally got his moment of breathing room.

He ducked yet another swing from the fire axe while Anthony stepped over the downed enemy. Dean grabbed onto the man's wrists, forcing the axe down while he leaned in. His mouth latched onto the others neck, and Dean sunk his teeth in. Without restraint they pierced his neck and began to draw blood. Dean clamped down, bringing his teeth to meet inside the side of the man's neck. He screamed, like a wounded animal.

Dean ripped his head back, still holding firmly onto the flesh in his mouth. It tore off, exposing muscle and tissue that was once protected. The bite alone wouldn't kill, he hadn't taken out the carotid artery. Dean spat the man's body back into his face, blood and saliva mixing together for the purest form of a silent insult. He was too busy screaming in pain to see the skull coming at him. Dean's forehead cracked his nose and broke it on impact. Blood began to rush from the crushed cartilage.

Anthony looked down at the chainsaw wielding hostile. He raised his foot up and pressed down on his back. The chainsaw was still active, revving with delight. It had fallen right under him. Just a little push, Anthony figured. He stomped down.

The spinning blades tore through the man's torso, his body shaking just as violently as the machine did. He sputtered and groaned rhythmically while it ran through him. Anthony pressed down a little more. He was already out of the fight, damn near dead. He had just wanted to make sure. He fought against the resistance of the man's ribcage and forced him completely onto the chainsaw.

He took a step back. He would've continued to watch his body shake with the weapon, if he hadn't heard shouting from just next to him. Anthony snapped his head and instinctively moved closer in preparation to attack. He didn't have to do that though. Once he got his eyes on the scene, he knew it was fine.

Dean had managed to rip the axe away from his enemy, leaving him defenseless and heavily wounded. Dean raised the weapon overhead, and sent it crashing down. The other tried to raise his hands to block the attack. It didn't help. The axehead chopped through his fingers and buried itself into his skull, leaving him limp on the end of it.

With a grunt of effort, Dean yanked it back out. He looked to Anthony, almost as if for approval. He only got a nod of the head. He should've expected it. It at least it showed some form of- well, he didn't know actually. "..I counted four." Dean pointed out. "Where's the other guy?"

Both turned their heads. They looked around, scanning the area for the fourth man. Anthony eventually spotted him around a corner not too far off from their current position. His head had barely peaked from around it. "There." He said, pulling his hammer into one hand to point the end of it at the man.

"Should we, y'know- get him?" Dean asked. Anthony looked down, thinking. "I mean, I guess it could be something like..." He trailed off, looking back at the man. "Holy shit." He murmured. Anthony raised a brow. Before he was able to ask what was wrong, Dean shouted. "GET OUTTA THE FUCKIN' WAY!"

Anthony's neck cracked with displeasure while his head snapped. His eyes widened upon seeing what Dean had been so afraid of.

A rocket. It was aimed right towards both of them. The man hadn't just run because he was a coward, but because he needed to get out of the goddamn blast radius. Anthony stared at the projectile for another moment. Two hands grabbed onto him by the front of his jacket and threw him to the side. His hammer landed just at his side.

The duo fell to the ground as the rocket collided with the earth where they had just stood. The explosion wasn't as large as Dean had expected so they'd been more than enough of a distance away from where it landed. They were both quick to get to their feet, with Anthony retrieving his weapon. "We're gonna kill that guy, right?" Dean asked as he composed himself. He brushed the dirt off of him. "Yeah." Anthony confirmed.

"Let's go then." Dean spoke as he got back into a sprint. Anthony rushed to his side. The man had gone back into cover. Neither could see him running away from the corner, so they could only assume that he'd stayed. When they rounded the corner, they were glad to know the theory was right.

Dean lunged at the man. His heels pushed him off of the ground and propelled his form through the air. His arms were outstretched, letting them wrap around his waist and drag him down to the earth through gravity and his forceful weight. After a moment of struggle on the floor, Dean slammed down onto the man's stomach with his elbow. He wheezed. Dean began to drag him up to his feet.

Once stood upright, he pulled the man in front of him by the back of his neck and shirt. He shot his knee up into his back, and then proceeded to shove him forward forcefully. "Hit him!" Dean demanded. Anthony acted on his first instinct. He raised his hammer up, not to swing. He held it sideways and thrust it forward, the head cracked the man's features with the hit. He stumbled back upon impact only to get grabbed by Dean again.

Dean wrapped his arms around the man's waist while spreading his own legs apart. Anthony tilted his head with confusion. He was confused right up until Dean leaned back, pulling the man above and behind him. A suplex. Dean had mentioned it in passing while talking about wrestling, he just hadn't actually seen it.

The man's head smashed into the ground, and there was a loud crack. His body rolled backwards from where Dean was, and he laid there. Dean pulled himself back up to his feet. "Is he dead?" He asked. Anthony shrugged again. "Dunno." The two stared at him for a moment. "Eh." Dean sighed. "Fuck it... You wanna go to the final stand? I wanna shoot something."

Anthony had heard of the game, but he couldn't remember if he'd actually gone in or not. "Sure." He paused. "Grab on."

Dean waited a second. He hated Anthony's way of teleporting. It was so sudden, abrupt. Still he complied. His hand found Anthony's shoulder, and the moment his fingers curled around his jacket he could feel the world change.

It whirled through his body, leaving his organs sloshing and wailing out their disapproval of it. Anthony stood unfazed as they found themselves in the resting place of Final Stands store. "Eugh..." Dean stepped away, an arm wrapping protectively around his own stomach. "Does that not BOTHER you?" He questioned. He shifted his eyes to Anthony, who simply shrugged. "Feels fine."

The brunette shook his head while he gathered himself. "Okay." A deep breath in, followed by a short exhale. "Okay. I'm good." Dean pushed open the cracked open door to get inside the front of the store. "I'm good." He repeated, with Anthony following close behind.

At first, it had been an uneventful walk through the woods. Dean stopped himself from just asking to leave by keeping a small conversation open. He hardly paid attention to it, he kept finding himself being drawn to the open caves scattered around. The flashlights they'd come into the world with were unable to penetrate the deep dark it brought. Dean noted the expressions of concern written across his friends faces.

Then night came.

Their entire world was wrapped in darkness. Dean found it hard for his eyes to adjust to it. When he finally did get his vision back, he looked around the group. Kitberry seemed unfazed, if anything. And, as if on queue, Adam had gotten right behind Anthony. If he weren't also petrified, he would've made a light jab to poke fun at how this seemed to happen every time. Instead he kept his mouth shut.

Finding light had become their main goal within seconds. No one in particular led the way. They travelled side by side, apart from the obvious two. Dean could feel paranoia settling in. With every snap of a branch, sudden gust of wind and soft breath, Dean flinched as if he had just been shot.

It was only when he could hear something else moving did he get truly concerned. He thought himself to just be imagining things, right up until he looked at the others. Kitberry had turned her head to try and find the source of the noise, and Adam had frozen up entirely, his hands clinging on tighter to Anthony's arm. Dean couldn't read Anthony, but when he saw him grab onto Adam a little tighter, he knew enough.

"What the fuck did you get us into, Kit?" Dean snarled. Kitberry rolled her shoulders, pointing her flashlight right at Dean's eyes as she spoke. He hissed and threw one hand up to cover his retinas. "Uhm... If it helps, I'm just as confused as you, bestie." She offered. Dean's shoulders rose up higher against his neck. "That doesn't help! That doesn't help at all! That's worse!" He exclaimed, almost forgetting there was something else in the forest with them.

A grunt and death stare from Anthony is what reminded Dean to quiet down. "Sorry. Sorry." He murmured. "Listen... Fuck. Can you get us outta here?" Dean asked, snapping his head around to get a lay of their surroundings. Unfortunately, he still couldn't see dick if it was more than ten to fifteen feet away from him. "I can... I can try."

Kitberry turned around, finally bringing the light away from Dean's face. She brought her hands up and gripped the air. The other three watched closely. "Just... What the f- UMPH!" She yipped, backing away from the spot she'd just tried to rip apart. "...shit." Kitberry exhaled, turning back around. Her mask had gained a crack. "Can't do it."

Dean's eyes widened. He stepped forward immediately, a hand going up to the mask. He barely stopped himself from touching it. "Fuck. Why not? What's wrong?" He stopped himself from acting like a protective mother (not like he'd know anything about that) and instead focused on the matter at hand. "Against the rules. I can't- I can't get it open. Not until we make it to sunrise."

A sense of dread overwhelmed Dean, and he could sense it in the others. "Fuck. Okay, okay. We can do that. You know what's out here with us?" He finally brought up the elephant in the room. They weren't alone. Whatever had been moving around earlier was clearly something that this world had put into attack mode upon their arrival. He only prayed it would leave the others, if it came.

"No clue. It doesn't tell me that much. I'm sorry, I just-" Dean shook his head, shushing her while he did. "It's fine. It's fine. We just gotta make it to morning, right?" Kitberry nodded in response. "Okay. Then we just... Keep walking." He sighed. Anthony looked as though he were about to speak, but Dean continued. "Think about it. We've got an entire goddamn forest where it could be. If we sit in one place, we're just waiting for it to fin-"

Footsteps cut him off, swift and thundering on the earths floor. It came barreling towards the group. Dean swung and aimed his light at the source. His eyes widened and he screamed out as its figure was revealed to all.

The first thing they could all see were its eyes. Ghastly white, wide open. Next was its mouth, also wide open. Teeth, sharp enough to cut through kevlar lined its gums, and Dean could swear there were splotches of red along the gray teeth. The rest of its body was very clearly inhuman. It had similarities to a skeleton like Dean's own, but it had been twisted and mangled into a new identity entirely.

Dean stopped studying it the closer it got. "RUN FOR YOUR FUCKING LIVES!" He shouted. The others did just that. Anthony and Adam bolted off in their own direction, with Anthony pulling the other closer to his side while they ran. Kitberry went her own way too. Her light became less and less visible while she ran.

By the time he started to turn to move, it was already feet away. It growled while it swung at him with everything it had. Its claws were lengthy, at least two feet long. The tips of them looked as though they would shred him to pieces if he let it touch him.

"HOLY SHIT-!" Dean threw himself away from the creature's claws, dropping his flashlight in the process. It's scream oozed pure rage, one that even he hadn't experienced. It swung its lanky and grotesque limb back in preparation for another swing. Dean turned tail. The snow crunched underneath his boots and kicked up behind him as he began to sprint with everything he had.

The roar it let out echoed through the forest, reverberating off of the trees and damn near defending him while he ran away. The others could be damned, he needed to get away from whatever the fuck it was that had its sights on him. His concern for them was considerably less than it was for himself in the moment. He didn't feel bad for it. Mostly because he didn't have time to. But even if he did, he'd already watched them run. It was only on him now.

He could hear it. It was so close. His heart pounded sporadically in his ears, and his vision had almost become brighter with the fear he experienced. Dean wanted to scream. To pray. To wish upon whoever was listening that the monster would just die, fade away and leave him be. If he'd learned one thing though, it was that no one was listening.

He was the only god that could get him through his situation.

A part of his mind screamed at the rest of him for not keeping a hold on the light. He was sprinting through the abyss, hoping that he didn't trip and eat shit on a log, or an out of place rock, or literally anything that would lay around in a forest. But he couldn't hear the berating over the thoughts of "FUCK FUCKING FUCK HELP ME OH JESUS CHRIST HELP ME."

Dean was running on sheer terror and adrenaline. He was more than certain that he'd never run so fast in his life. Not from the cops, not from his trauma, not from relationships- no. From the thing that threatened to rip him to pieces if he stopped for even a second. His breathing became heavier while he continued to run.

Just off in the distance, Dean could see something. Maybe not salvation, but there was light. A small red blip that shone through the night. He could just barely make out what surrounded it. Walls, a roof, wide open entrances. It looked like a military outpost. Dean wished that it would've brought him relief to see something like that, but he only experienced further misery while he drew closer. It was abandoned.

It was something.

Dean ran faster, pushing himself beyond the limits he had set up for himself. He worried that the monster behind him would do the same, but the noises didn't stay at the same distance. They were further away while he created a larger gap between the two. Maybe he'd just given himself the chance to wriggle out, break line of sight and hide in the trees while it searched relentlessly.

The base was damn near empty. Torn apart bunks, a rotting corpse, broken gear. It wasn't what he was really there for. The plan (the one he'd thought of in a few seconds, the totally reliable one) was to get out to the other side, and run around one of the corners and dash away. If he could think, he'd stress about the details.

What if it tracked his footsteps in the snow? What if it see through the dark? What if it hear him? What if it just tried to cut him off by not even going inside and just chasing him from the side he ran to? What if, what if, what if. Those would get him killed before the actual nightmare did.

The small size of the outpost made it easier for Dean to get through the entire thing in just a few seconds. He cleared it, and rounded the corner of the other entrance he'd run through. Dean aimed left, going right back into the deep dark of the forest.

He damn near fainted from relief as the noises of its footsteps vanished with the distance he continued to make. It screamed out, which still hurt his ears, but it wasn't so close. It was behind him, it was back at the base. It could've been confused, even angrier, concerned, all as to where it's prey had gone off to.

Dean didn't stop running. His chest hurt. His lungs burned. His arms felt as though they would fall off from the shoulders. He only stopped when he found a small building. There was a door, metal. Almost like a safe house.

"H...ey?" He gasped, finally stopping his sprint and halting to a stop at the door. His breaths were deep, ragged. It scratched his throat. "Anybody?" He wheezed, resting a hand on the outer wall and doubling over to pant with exhaustion. Shuffling footsteps from inside caught his attention. "Dean?"

He felt his world brighten a bit. It was Adam. The door opened with a crack, and Dean could see inside. Kitberry caught his attention first, holding her light and damn near blinding him with her pastel pink aesthetic. She'd stood a little behind the door. Adam and Anthony were off to the side, with Adam at the lever. Dean couldn't help but smile, even if the faces that greeted him looked concerned.

Dean staggered inside, and Adam pulled the lever down again. The door slammed shut. "Jesus." Anthony murmured first. Kitberry stepped forward and took a hold of Dean as he nearly collapsed against her. She helped him stay standing with an arm wrapped around his shoulder. "What happened?" She asked. Dean shook his head while he tried to get enough breath to speak.

"Chased me... Didn't stop. Barely... Barely lost it." He stumbled over his words, his body wavering side to side while he spoke. "What about... You guys?" Dean asked, looking up. Adam looked back to the door, then to Dean. "We just kinda ran." He shrugged. "Found this place. I don't know how it has power though." Adam admitted with a shrug.

Kitberry raised her hand. "That may have been me. I saw a generator and turned it on. I thought maybe it would power something." She paused. "Guess it did."

Anthony turned his head to the boarded up windows. It hid most things from looking in, or out. But it was enough to notice the light that began to beam through the cracks. "Hey." He pointed to it. "Think it's morning." He stated plainly. Adam took a moment before hesitantly opening the door again, leaving the entryway now bathed in a warm glow.

The sun had brought the world back to its former state. Dean put a weak fist of celebration in the air, while still desperately trying to pull himself together. "Kit." Anthony turned to her. "The portal?" He asked, stepping over to her. She nodded with understanding, letting go of Dean- who almost immediately slammed against the nearby wall- and once more reached into an empty space.

To her and everyone else's delight, her fingers pierced through nothingness. She pulled her arms apart, and their exit was opened. "Cmon." Kitberry huffed, reaching and taking a hold of Dean's elbow to help him through. She went first, with the damn near passed out male following close behind. Anthony stood to the side, gesturing for Adam to go through first.

He kept a close eye on them as they hurried themselves through, turning back to look outside one last time. He hated how close it was for any of them. At least it was over now.

"Uh... No dick shots." He stated. "That's one. The throat, the back of the head, and the knees." Dean brought a finger to each part of his body as he spoke. "No biting either. And no elbows. We're sparring, not killing each other." He paused. "Choking?"

Anthony stared. His immediate thought was a very basic strangle. Someone's hands wrapped around a throat, but from what he'd heard from Dean before, he'd likely meant something on the ground. An elbow locked around his neck, or both legs squeezing the air out of him. "...your call."

King nodded. "Tap twice to submit, and the choke stops. That goes both ways." He looked down in thought. "If we gotta stop it, just yell it. You think something's broken, or you just don't wanna keep Fighting." Dean explained, "You got anything else?"

He shook his head. "I can handle it. Do we just go, or?" Anthony questioned, putting his fists up preemptively. Dean nodded. "Yeah. No need for a countdown. Let's go."

And it was off. Dean's arms snapped up, both hands slightly open to protect his face from incoming attacks. Anthony's fists covered his chin, with his elbows tucked in tight to where his ribs were. Dean didn't know if it was because he had actual training with boxing, or if he'd just seen other people do it and followed it. Either way it was effective.

The shorter male took a few steps forward, throwing in a quick jab with his left fist. Anthony jerked his body to the side and retaliated, a hard right landed against Dean's temple. He clenched his teeth and planted his feet into the ground. Anthony could punch, good to know.

Dean struck back fast as Anthony tried to pull himself back up. His fist clashed against his chest. It wasn't exactly a hit to end a fight, but it was something. He wouldn't just swing once though, that was stupid.

Anthony's fists moved to protect his chest. Dean slipped in a quick combo to his features. Once with a crossing right, followed by a left to the stomach. He could hear a huff of air leave Anthony's mouth upon impact. The pain itself didn't seem to have too much of an effect on him, but the force of the blows certainly did.

By the time he'd gathered himself, Dean was winding up another punch. Anthony ducked underneath Dean's arm as it came firing at him. He responded appropriately, sending a fist quickly into Dean's abdomen. He wheezed out with the air being drawn from him. Dean stepped back quickly, but he didn't quit.

Dean took a quick step back forward while slightly lowering his upper half, one of his hands raised up to sock Anthony, or at least hold him back. He could feel his knuckles meet some part of the others face, but he couldn't see it too well. Dean raised his other fist up too, an uppercut.

Anthony cringed away, avoiding the strike that could've put an end to the fight right where it was. Dean found himself in a vulnerable position with his last hit not connecting. Anthony punched down, and Dean shouted in (mostly) surprise as he felt his eye catch the brunt of Anthony's attack. Most people he fought really weren't that good at punching the way Anthony could.

It excited him, in a way. But he could still find the weak spots. Maybe over enough time he could help Anthony buff them out, try to raise him up to Dean's level in combat. Dean took a few steps back to get out of Anthony's range.

The taller of the two made an attempt at approaching, yet halted as Dean's right leg shot up and snapped the lower half of it at him. It wasn't meant to hit. No. Only meant to delay, to give himself a second or two of breathing room. Once it was lowered back to the ground, Anthony moved.

He attempted to stick to what he knew best, which was striking. Dean knew that he'd have a much more difficult time keeping the fight there in his favor. When Anthony was close enough, Dean reached and grabbed onto the collar of his jacket. He ducked his head and raised his shoulders, defending himself from the incoming strikes. Anthony only had time to get a few out, before Dean's foot had wrapped around one of his ankles and completely swept his leg with one swift kick to the side.

Anthony brought Dean down with him. The two hit the ground in unison with groans. Dean clambered to get on top of Anthony, trying to ignore the quick shots he was letting out in an attempt to stop whatever Dean was trying. Dean responded with a hard knee being slammed into Anthony's side.

He let out a hiss from the sudden pressure on his body. Dean flipped Anthony onto his side, laying down behind him and wrapping one arm around his neck. His legs snaked around Anthony's body and held his free arm down. Anthony had strength, which made it notably more difficult to hold him down as he started the choke.

Dean's other arm helped lock in his choking one. His hand was clutching onto his forearm and pressing into Anthony's throat. He really didn't like doing something like that to the guy, but it was for sparring. He had a chance to get out as well.

He could sense the hesitance in Anthony as oxygen became more of a delicacy. He knew his limits though, what he could and couldn't break out of. Before Dean even knew what happened, he could feel the quickly delivered signals of submission hit his limbs.

Almost automatically, he snapped his arms away from Anthony's neck. He could hear him gasp out for a moment while Dean pulled the rest of his body parts off of him. "You put up a decent fight." Dean couldn't help but admit. He stood up with a low hum, before looking down at Anthony. "Here."

He held out a hand to Anthony, who shifted to lay on his back. "Where'd you learn to do that?" He asked, reaching out and holding onto Dean's wrist. With a huff, Dean leaned back and helped bring Anthony back to his feet. "Nowhere, really. Just kinda second nature." Dean shrugged. "...let's take five. Run this back."

He'd seen it a thousand times over. It was still terrifying, but incredibly interesting. Her fingers curled and pierced into what seemed like reality itself, before she ripped her hands apart to the sides. Time and space split from her power alone. "Shit." Dean chuckled. "You think you could do that with someone's chest? Like, just tear open?"

Kitberry shrugged in response as she stepped through the portal. Dean followed closely behind.

Jesus, it was bright. Dean raised a hand instinctively to cover his burning eyes from the light he found himself staring dead into. He looked down a bit, realizing they were staring right out of a window. "Couldn't have moved us to not stare at the goddamned sun?" Dean asked, somewhat jokingly.

The two behind them had already started staring. Hard not to when a portal just opens up in your apartment. Adam had instinctively ducked away behind Anthony, who had his arm put out in front of the other. Their tension had lowered when they realized it was just Dean and Kitberry, yet Anthony still stood a bit on edge.

Kitberry was the first to turn around, giving Dean a quick backhand pat to his elbow to alert him. He quickly spun around too, lowering his raised up hand. "Hope you guys don't mind the intrusion." He admitted with a soft laugh. Anthony just gave a hum in return. "'S fine." He shrugged.

Dean took quick steps forward, his hand going out to his side and curling slightly. Anthony took a small step forward as his opposite arm imitated the action. Both of their hands came together, palms clasping with their fingers curling up to each other. "How you been doin', man?" Dean asked, grinning wide. He didn't bother hiding how happy he was it'd actually been returned, and that he hadn't been left hanging. It showed that Anthony at least gave half of a shit, which was better than nothing!

Anthony shrugged again. His eyes went up and down, studying Dean's body. He let out a low grunt as he pointed to the brunette's forehead, which had a point in the center that was coated in blood. Dean raised a brow along with two fingers, wiping at the spot. The blood smeared onto his digits. "Oh... Thought I got that. Sorry."

Dean was quick to wipe the crimson off on his pants. "Equestrias fuckin' violent, y'know." He laughed. "...My Little Pony?" Adam spoke up from behind Anthony. Dean nodded. "Mhm. Kit found us this weird ass tycoon-" He was cut off as Kitberry suddenly called from behind. "HAIIIIII!" Without looking back Dean gestured to her. He could visualize the :3 in her voice.

Adam gave a little wave to her. "A guy managed to slip into my place. Headbutted him." He explained with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Anyways. How've you guys been? Anything interesting? Anyone die?" He quickly asked, taking a step back to give Anthony and Adam a bit of space.

"Still trying to get home." Adam murmured. "Other than that, things have been alright." They shook it off. "...home? You can't just-" Dean went silent, feeling the stare of death go right through him like a shotgun blast. He met Anthony's gaze. Something about it screamed to stay quiet. Even though if it did get serious, Dean had a lot of confidence in his ability to get out of the scrap okay- he didn't really want to fight Anthony.

Somehow, he got the feeling that it was partially reciprocated.

Dean shook his head. "Sorry about that, man. Sure you'll find your way back sooner or later." Adam nodded in return. Anthony's stare died down, and Dean could feel the immense relief leaving him from where he stood. King didn't feel good about staying quiet. It wasn't exactly his place to do anything about it. Plus, it didn't seem like there was any need to jump in. Adam was safe, and Anthony didn't want them to go home. It's not like they were being held there by force.

They didn't look like they were in any real danger. But as someone who knew what it was like to never know if you would find your way home or not, it struck a bit of a chord. But, again, wasn't his place. He'd talk to Anthony later. Probably just to question why he didn't want Adam to go back. He could see it in that stare, he could feel it with how he guarded them as if their very soul depended on it.

It's not like Anthony was a bad guy, Dean could tell. He didn't have the markings on his very being that created a true bastard like the brawler had seen a million times over, in the mirror and in other people. His intentions- from what Dean could gather- was simply to keep Adam safe. To care for him. He respected it.

Dean did his best to snuff out the thoughts and bury it deep into his memories compartments. He shook his head before pointing a thumb back to the still open portal. "Well... To cut to the chase, we were comin' here to see if you guys wanted to join us. We were gonna head out to this duo tycoon, figured you guys might like that. We could team up, fuck anyone up who tried something." Even though he didn't need the help at all, Dean still found it fun to have friends close by in combat.

Quiet followed. Anthony didn't dare answer, only looking at Adam, as if he were a pet waiting for its order.

Adam eventually nodded. "Yeah." He decided. "Yeah, that sounds fun." He stepped forward, ahead of Anthony. "Fuckin' A." Dean turned back to Kitberry. "Get the portal open, dumbfuck. Or did you already forget where it was?" Even though it'd seem nothing short of horribly rude to others, to the two, it was a form of endearment. Kitberry saw very well what happened to those Dean was serious with his threats towards.

"Fuck you." She spat, turning to the portal and reaching through. "Eat my dick." He retaliated. Anthony stared. "...do you two always talk to each other like that?" He asked. He hadn't spent too much time around either, much less when they were together. Dean simply shrugged. "It's fine. The stupid cunt knows I love her."

Kitberry snickered as she stepped away from the portal and to the group. "I'm used to it, don't worry." She nodded to the portal, "We're good to go, by the way. You really wanna go dressed like that?" She asked, looking Dean up and down. He frowned. "Hey, fuck you. I look handsome. My mom said so."

She took a moment, debating if it was worth grabbing onto the low hanging fruit.

"Your mom left you!"

It was.

Dean threw his head back in laughter. If it were anyone else throughout the universe, he would've had their jaws down their esophagus in a matter of seconds. "Oh, fuck you." He repeated, turning and walking to the portal. "Cmon, let's get a move on. I don't wanna lose our spots for the bases."

The three watched as Dean leapt through, before it was made two by the fact Kitberry ran and jumped through after him. The two remaining shared a stare. At least they were fun enough to be around, and they had stories from their adventures that were intriguing to listen to.

"I don't wanna let you down, cause life's so sweet when you're around!" The music continued. Kit opted to ignore the lyrics as she stepped into the living room, her portal closing behind her. She looked around for a moment before hearing a soft grumble. "Whozat?" Dean questioned from his spot on the couch. She sighed, stepping into his vision.

It only took a moment of staring at his face to see his state. "Oh, you're fuckin' ZOOTED." She said with a soft laugh, watching as Dean grinned wide upon realization that it was Kitberry, and not someone there to stab him. His eyes were red. His clothes reeked of pot. And he just looked too goddamn happy, not exactly like him to smile upon seeing her when he was sober.

Dean shook his head. He planted one palm firmly against the cushion beneath him in an attempt to push up, which only resulted in him falling back down into the softness of his furniture. "Was just thinkin' 'bout you." He admitted. "What're you doin' here?" Dean added on, his eyes widening while he attempted to take a firm hold on the shred of comprehension he still had left.

She sat down on the arm of the couch opposite of Dean's head. "I was thinking of bringing you to this game I found. All violent and shit, right up your alley." Kitberry paused, "But... I don't think you're up for fighting right now. You look too stupid." Dean whined at that response, like a puppy upset about not getting attention. "Sorry."

They both paused. "Mmmhh... What about Adam? Anthony? Any idea where they're at?" Dean murmured to slice through the quiet. The thought of getting up from his position was enough to bring a frown to his lips, he was far too high. Even Kitberry could see that. "Dunno. And I don't think you're in any place to find them either." She paused, looking him over with a snicker. "No offense, bestie."

A new song started to play. A hard hitting and swift guitar riff. Dean groaned, reaching out to his phone on the table. He didn't hit it. He wasn't even close, actually. Kitberry watched for a bit with amusement as his bandaged hand smacked around the top of the wooden table. "You got that?" She teased.

Her eyes wandered the table, eventually finding what Dean had used to get inebriated. A lengthy rolled up joint. The end still burned, leaving the smoke to waft throughout his home.

"HNGH!" Dean barked, slamming his hand down onto his phone. Kitberry looked back to where he'd hit. He worked to power on the phone. "Buttons on the right side." She said. He grunted as his index finger curled into the power button. It seemed he was genuinely focusing with all his cognitive abilities to figure this out. Even she knew that bringing him to fight would be a shitty thing to do.

Kitberry took a hold of the joint, glancing down to meet Dean's gaze, which snapped up to her as he saw it leave the table. "Ask." He stated with a deadpan tone. The music finally stopped as he hit pause on the song. "...nah."

She pulled the joint up underneath her mask. Dean watched in confused horror as it vanished without a trace. "Wh.. did... Did you eat my fucking joint?!" He gasped out, sitting upright. "You couldn't just smoke it?" Dean paused. She only stared back at him, silent. "Whatever." He sighed. "As long as it gets you high."

Dean grabbed onto his phone while Kitberry nodded. "Probably. Maybe. Hopefully." She shrugged as another song began to play, She's Homeless. Kitberry recognized it due to the fact he consistently played it in their downtime between worlds. The volume was lowered. Dean laid back down, resting his hands on his stomach. "Remotes on the table if you wanna put some stupid shit on."

Kitberry hummed in response, reaching for the remote to Kings Roku. She could already feel the drug taking effect on her. Dean had upped the strength of the shit he was getting, she could tell. If anything, she was happy about that. Made everything a better time she found.