"What do you mean who?" Owen was completely flabbergasted. How could Mason not know about Henry? Wouldn't he have been in his files? Or did it not show as him being engaged to him? Or even knowing him at all? "You know-my fiancé." He says, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, tilting his head to the side. He looked like a confused puppy.
"Nope, never seen or read about a Henry Swan," Mason says, taking his now cooked beans off of the burner. Owen forgetting about his beans.
"How? He's my goddamn fiancé." He says, irritated by the fact that he read his files and didn't see anything about him. It was almost if Henry never existed. "Maybe because you two weren't married. Or listed as a significant other." Mason said. Putting his food on a paper plate he found in the pantry. "Sorry, but there couldn't be a chance that he's still alive. As long as they don't know he's a gay man; that's a big maybe." Mason says with a shrug. Mason smirked because he knew Owen's beans were burning. Mason dumped the beans on the plate, scraping the grapefruit out with his finger onto the plate, his nails painted black with sharpie ink. "Why?" Owen asked, "how? Ah, shit. My beans are burning!" He said, making Mason laugh.
"I was going to tell you, but I wanted to see if you forget-me-not would remember." He said with a grin on his face. Now, a more irritated Owen was aggressively dumping out the beans onto his plate, muttering under his breath.
Mason laughed as he watched Owen dump his burnt beans onto the plate. "You're evil, and cruel for not telling me," Owen says with a huff, pissed off that Mason very damn well knew that his beans were burning and that he didn't even bother telling him. "What? It was funny." He says, a grin on his face. "Definitely worth it." Mason exaggeratingly wiping a fake tear from his eyes. "Fuck you, really. Honestly, just fuck you." Owen said, irritated and annoyed by Mason's childish behavior. Owen ate his slightly overcooked beans in peace. It wasn't anything gourmet, but it was as gourmet as food in the apocalypse could get.
"Where are you from Mason?" He asked, "Do you think they have any canned coffee beans?" Owen asked as well. "I don't know. Probably not any canned coffee beans, but like, one of those bags of coffee beans you get at a store." Mason says. "And to answer your question, I'm from Tennessee." It made sense to Owen because he had that cowboy-type talk. He figured he was from one of those cowboy states, but he wasn't sure.
"Where are you from? You from here?" Mason asked, and Owen shook his head. "No. I moved here when I was a kid. My family and I are originally from Canada, my mom met my dad there when my dad was going to college. Then it just kinda went from there," Owen said with a shrug.
" So you were in the FBI huh? You were on the news quite a bit." Mason says, which made Owen nod. "Yeah, I loved the job. Protecting people and helping everyone out." He says with a small smile. "What exactly happened?" Owen froze, reflecting over what had happened a few years ago whilst he was on duty. It was July, it had been sunny all day and everything was perfect. Quiet for the most part. But, being a police officer you couldn't quite always relax from things happening all the sudden. "Mass shooter on South Avenue. Star Born Casino, with hostages. Male, 6'5 wearing all black, light-skinned. Vampire species and very hostile." He remembered on the intercom in the car. An urgent female voice. His commanding officer. He and his partner, a younger cop who had just joined their police unit, drove to the scene.
Sirens blared as he drove quickly through the streets. At the casino, the place was swarming with cops, FBI, and SWAT. Of course, and as usual, Owen was running late because some people were assholes and didn't move out of the way. He wasn't trying to kill anybody from speeding he was just trying to get to the scene. Probably the most intense scene he's been in a while. Owen quickly undid his seatbelt. "Where is he?" Owen asked a fellow FBI agent. His partner standing close to him from being frightened. He was a coward, he had no idea how he even managed to get into the program. He didn't know what they saw in him.
Owen is one of the most experienced fighters they have. They thought he could take out the shooter; amongst others. Owen looked through the window that was slightly tinted because this casino was known for illegal activities, such as drug busts, and prostitution. "Give me the fucking money you rich assholes!" Dean Hawkins said. " Get the fucking money in five minutes or I'll start killing people!" He said, standing by a man in his 50's, a desert eagle pistol in his hand, pointing at the man's head. A white residue on his face, which Owen thought was cocaine.
Owen entered the building through the back door, quietly. Quickly and swiftly speed-walking through the hallways. Once he got to the main building, he snuck into the area where Dean was, which was by the slot machines. Quietly, he got his own gun from his holster, hitting the side of Dean's head with the handle part of the gun. Before Dean could react, he fell down, shaking his head. "You really thought doing that would take me out?" Dean said, a menacing laugh coming from him.
"You cops, or, whatever are really dumb-especially if you're humans." He says, a sly smirk on his face. Owen shot at him, which obviously injured him. Owen would've had holy water soaked-bullets, but, they didn't have funding for those all the time. They were hard to come by. "Ouch. That hurt." Dean pouted, then laughed. Getting up and cracking his neck, the other officers shot at him, which made pieces of flesh tear from his skin, making deep bullet wounds. "Pathetic." He scoffed. Dean punched Owen in the face as they started to kick and tussle each other.
The gun fell from Owens's hand to the floor, skidding across the white tiles. Dean putting Owen into a headlock the second Owen's eyes averted to the gun skidding across the floor. Dean held him against him as he reached for another gun that was in Owen's other holster. Owen choking slightly as he squirmed, biting Deans' arm as he tried to make him drop him. Which he did, escaping temporarily, but, as he turned back around a shot was sounded. A ringing in Owen's ears started to sound, as another one sounded. Stumbling forward as he fell against one of the machines, getting shot two more times before his partner came into the building, holding Owen close to him before he shot Dean in the forehead with one of the very few holy bullets he could find in the back of a SWAT van.
Dean fell backward and collapsed onto the floor, a small puddle of blood forming around his head. He wasn't dead, but from all the other bullet wounds he was very weak and he couldn't move. He'd be stunned for at least a few hours, and his head wouldn't be fully healed for a few days. Owen was starting to fall unconscious, the image of his partner and other people going in and out of vision. The only thing he could remember was being put into the ambulance, and the slow beeping of the heart monitor, and after a few minutes it went flat.