●●●Somewhere In Central New England, 16 Hours Later●●●
Like many other professions, monster hunting attract a variety of people. Most would be in it to avenge their love ones and, if fate divines, kill any monsters that stood and will stand in their way. Those types are mostly one-and-done, because either they never looked back or were killed halfway through.
Few of them are in it for the money; people would not believe what werewolf saliva would cost in the black market.
There are others who, by the grace of God, see hunting as their duty to the world. To rid the Earth of evil and to save those who do not know. For them, it is a thankless job and one they'll do, nonetheless.
Then, there are a handful of hunters who enjoy the thrill of hunting itself. When deers and other animals just don't scratch your thirst and they're not inhumane enough to kill human, those lucky bastards were given a chance to see the darker side of the world and, boy, did they enjoy it.
The man who proclaimed himself Richard Greythorne sat behind the bar in Ellen's Roadhouse as his striking blue eyes scanned the hunters that shuffled about in the roadhouse. His hand cupping an unopened cold light beer. To the opposite end of the bar was a punk with a blonde mullet drinking piss-warm can of energy drink.
"Need me to open that?" A voice brought him out of his thoughts as Ellen Harvelle came in front of him. A tall, buxom woman with flowing silky brown hair that would make Ella jealous. Contrary to her gruff demeanor, Ellen posited a gentle smile and unblemished skin.
'What the hell is her skin care routine?' Irwin thought.
"Ah, yeah, sorry! I don't drink. I just wanted to, uh, blend in." He reasoned with a light chuckle.
"I figure that'll work better if you aren't wearing a three-piece suit." She motioned at his dark-blue suit. A customer brought back a glass for a refill, which she took to a pipe to her left. "Here you go, Pat. So, what are you doing here? You lost?"
"No, ma'am. I'm a hunter." He said, to her absolute astonishment. The woman would not be a good poker player, he thought. "Is it that surprising?"
"Yeah, it's just you're so young." She defended. "How did you become one?"
Irwin snorted at the personal question. "How about I tell you my name first, then maybe you'll know."
"Ha! Sure. I'm Ellen. What's yours?" She stretched her hands to meet mine.
Irwin took her hands and shook them lightly. "Sebastian Archibald Greythorne IV at your service."
His voice, although spoken normally, echoed out into the entire bar. The once rambunctious laughter, clinks of beer, and loud story-tellers turned silent, their gazes training on the young man at the bar counter. Only the sound of 80s disco music is heard for a long while.
"What'd you say your name was boy?" A large man sporting a short white beard and torn leather jacket looked back from his game of pool.
"Greythorne, Richard Archibald Greythorne IV." His words came out louder than last, emphasizing his surname. "Do you have a problem with that, sir?"
The grizzled man threw away his pool stick and stepped towards Irwin with hostile intent. Irwin beamed at the irate man for he knew what will come next.
A clear THUD! of a barrel of a long rifle echoed around the bar as Ellen, no longer wearing her smile, pulled out her hidden weapon and settled it atop the counter.
"Now, I'll use this if I have to, but between you and me, I'd rather not give my daughter a fight when she comes home" She threatened, much to Irwin's delight. "Jimmy, if you really have a grudge against this boy, then I suggest you do it outside."
The grizzled man, Jimmy, snorted and promptly left the place. Turns out, it didn't take much for a hunter to get over things, because the chatter and laughter came again as soon as the man left.
Ellen looked towards the Greythorne heir. "Last time I saw you, you were crying 'cause you wet your pants. Bobby scared the crap outta you."
"Guess I grew up. Though If I were older, then I wouldn't... wet my... pants in front of someone like you," Irwin replied flirtatiously, or at least he tried.
"Nice try," She said, throwing him a bone. "How 'bout telling me why you're here."
"Well, my father, God bless his soul, told me of the five hunters that created the truce. I believe one of them was your husband," He lied readily. "Just wanted to pay my respects now that the truce will no longer be in effect."
"Ah, that's good, but William's dead." She replied dismissively. "Sorry about your father. He was a good man."
"Oh, he's not dead." Irwin hurriedly corrected her misunderstanding.
"Then why-"
"I just wanted to bless his soul," He replied preemptively. "If he's gone, then I suppose I should pay my respects to you." Irwin raised his unopened beer and motioned for her to join in a toast.
"To those we have lost and therefore have gained." He muttered as Ellen joined in.
A moment of silence passed as Ellen served a few more customers and kick out one more drunken hunter.
"So, anything else in your agenda?" Asked Ellen pouring herself a mug.
"Yeah, I wanted to mingle with other hunters, but that's not exactly doing well." He chuckled as he gazed over a few men and women scowling at him. "No matter. I still got you by my side."
"As long as you're paying for that beer, them I am," she said, chugging the beer down her gullet in one fell swoop.
"Actually, there is one thing: I called Bobby earlier, and he told me he hasn't gotten a hold of the Winchesters for a while. Wonder if you'll tell me if they've been here." He said, nearly failing to hide the excitement behind his twinkling eyes.
"Well, ain't that a bitch? Sam just called me an hour ago," She said, "They're in Montana. Red Lodge, I think."
Irwin was delighted to hear the news, although it's a long drive there, he could always take a short local flight in Boston. Less than a ten-hour flight, then reserve a car when he gets there. Apparently, you could travel freely with a lot of money.
"You might wanna call Bobby. The boys got themselves mixed up with Gordon Walker." She reminded him amidst his swirling thoughts.
"I will, ma'am." Irwin replied. 'It's not like the boys will need it,' He thought, 'With Dean's training, he could take on two Walkers, maybe.'
He left Ellen to her drunken costumer, looking past a man moaning about being hustled off his room money. His eyes locking on to his next target: Ash.
With him, Irwin prepared a different set of approach. He picked up a laptop bag below his seat and approached the mullet-wearing computer genius.
"What's up, bro?" Irwin sat next to him, slightly startling the man.
"Hey! What's happening?" Ash replied. Irwin could see the man's eyes barely working, clearly high from weed, yet he was still typing code in a crappy laptop from 2001.
"You're one crazy genius, huh?" Irwin muttered as he saw how Ash quickly hacked into a local government's website.
"That I am!" Ash smirked at him before returning to his work. But, after Irwin kept staring at him, Ash turned back. "Look, I know what I look like, but sometimes, you just gotta take a hint. I don't swing that way."
Irwin laughed, amused by the man's thick skin. "First, I can take a hint. Second, I'm just wondering how the hell can you work in that piece of crap?" He pointed to the clearly souped-up laptop.
"This is just some normal shit, man. I got this running better than NASA!" Ash defended his work.
"Yeah, but what happens when this shit-box catches on fire?" Irwin asked. "One more hardware upgrade and this'll be considered an IED."
"Yeah? What do you know about shit-boxes?" Ash was now irate, slightly mad even. It was one thing to imply that he wasn't handsome, but another to piss him off about the second most gorgeous thing in the world.
Irwin smirked, clearly anticipating the man's aggression. He pulled the bag and lightly placed it atop the bar counter. "Me personally? No. But I do know of this bald guy and he built this."
Ash, intrigued and angered by the man's lack of manners, hesitantly opened the bag and pulled out a brand new black polycarbonate Macbook. Straight out of the plane from China.
As if he were handed the holy grail, Ash immediately recognized the device from the tech companies hacked memos. "Holy fuck! They haven't even introduced this yet?"
"I know. My father knows Steve Jobs and I got it off of him... On the promise that it will be used for private personal activities," He said letting the man drool all over the device, metaphorically speaking. "And its yours, actually."
"Cool- wait. What?"
"Yeah, all yours!" Irwin confirmed. "Consider it a gift from a dear friend."
"Yeah, dear friend." Ash said, suspicious of the Greythorne heir's motives. "What you really want for it?"
"I told you, just your friendship. I heard you're good with computers?" Ash nodded, head tilted in pride. "Then, maybe if I have some problem with one, I could come to you for help. Will that be possible?"
"Man, most people would just buy me a beer. Hell fucking yeah!" Ash clasped Irwin's hand in a force shake.
"Alright, then. Here take my card." Irwin gave Ash his business card which the latter reciprocated by programming his number to the former's phone.
Although he had already done what he set out to do, Irwin stayed for thirty minutes longer. Chatting with Ellen when there's a lull in the orders and, at one point, even ordered a round of alcohol for the entire room. He had left Ash alone who, by then, had already engrossed himself in reformatting the Macbook into his desired system. By the end of his stay, most, if not all, had dialed down their constant glare and hateful mumbling. Who would bite the hand that feeds you beer and rum? Not them, especially the hunters who so desperately need to take the edge off while also being extremely broke.
Seeing him packing up and putting back his warm beer, Ellen could not help but walk closer to Irwin. Her gaze meeting his as she imparts a word of wisdom to the young hunter.
"Be careful out there, son. Don't trust anyone easily, especially other hunters. There are more dangerous creatures out there than werewolves."
Irwin smiled at her words. "Of course, ma'am. Say hello for me to your daughter."
Although he did not meet the Winchesters as per his plan, just being acquainted with the Ellen Harvelle was enough for one visit. Next time, he'll arrive at an earlier time to better get acquainted with Jo and even get Ash in his team. Lord knows how much he needs someone good with a computer. Just his financials alone could kill him, much less the monsters.
He took out his car fob and pressed the unlocked button as he neared his car. But before he could get to the door, an enormous shadow emerged to his right and tackled him to the ground.
His left arm and shoulder took much of the damage, scraping and breaking the skin. A grunt escaped his lip as the shadow contorted into the form of the man whom he had an altercation with in the bar. The man's fist came bearing down and striking his right ear. Before the pain could subside, another fist came from another angle, bore down on the same ear.
Although the man was large and his fist heavy, he wasn't so much hurt, more so frustrated for not seeing this scenario. Of course, a redneck hunter would have a bruised ego. The fourth strike came and Irwin have had enough. He flexed his muscles and threw the man off of his body.
With a loud BANG! The man crashed into the next car, breaking the car window before sliding into the ground.
"Goddamn, redneck!" He muttered through gritted teeth. Irwin took out a small hex bag and began his enchantment. "Flagello!"
A spark engulfed the hex bag and, with the flick of his wrist, it turned into a whip of azure fire.
The man tried to stand up, frustrated and disgruntled by the failure of his ambush, but before he could, a long sting of fire wrapped around his neck and proceeded to strangle and scorch him.
Irwin he knew he doesn't have much time until other people hear of the commotion, so he knelt down next to the spasming man and spoke in a grave tone. "I wonder how much I'll get for you."
He drew his enchanted iridium knife and embedded it deep inside the man's skull like a hot knife through melted butter. And, with a single thought, the man disappeared. In his place, lays a silver bullet etched with esoteric runic symbols. A bullet made for The Colt.
It seems like an experienced hunter like the grizzled man is worth as much as a small pack of werewolves.
"Hey! What's happening there?" Shouted a man in a wide-brimmed hat as he walked closer to a hunched figure of Irwin.
"Nothing, just lost my keys." He showed his car keys with a relieved smile on his face, placating the man. Satisfied with the outcome of his little adventure in the roadhouse, Irwin entered his car and rode out of the dirt-ridden path.
His next destination? Red Lodge, Montana.