Hustle

I'm at number 6 in the north neighborhood. Don't contact me unless it's necessary.

[castielisbackintown]

Please...

[torchwoodshead]

You’re young and naive and that is no fault of your own, so I’ll leave you be. Get better Jo.

[joannathehunter]

[Message Received]

[castielisbackintown]

Please...

[torchwoodshead]

Nope, I’m not Dean. Don’t want to be either. How about when you find a way out you let everyone know, alright? Don’t take your pent up anger issues out on anyone who’s simply trying to help.

Also and here’s a little free advice, don’t put too much reliance in one person, it almost always screws you over.

[joannathehunter]

Do you want some advice? Don't try to school someone who's clearly very upset.

And screw off.

[castielisbackintown]

Please...

[torchwoodshead]

Never said you were. But the words, and I quote “And here I was thinking this was the one place he wouldn’t skip town. The one place he wouldn’t leave me.” made it appear that you were blaming him. Who knows, maybe he’ll come back like I did? Besides, I’m sure he’s looking for a way to find everyone right now.

[joannathehunter]

Did you? Did you find a way to get everyone out of the pocket? No.

But you're not Dean. He can... He can fix this. He always does. 

Just forget it, Jack. I'm sorry for being rash but please just leave me alone.

[gwxncooper]

Riddles in the Dark || Gwen and Jo

[gwxncooper]

Tri… cachu! Her count completed, Gwen supposed she should start crawling like she’d resolved she would. She wasn’t doing anything to help Jo from this distance and, in fact, would only be useful if she had to run for help. She was even still holding the other woman’s gun. Nothing about this felt right. Gwen let out a heavy sigh. She was still very aware of the present danger but she wouldn’t be who she was if she didn’t manage to complain about something. She placed one hand tentatively on the grimy floor and balanced the rifle carefully in her other. It wouldn’t be fun to go this way, but she’d honestly been in worse places and it was technically still her job. 

'Holy shit!' Well, that got her heart racing. Gwen quickly abandoned all attempts at being quiet. She pushed herself forward, focusing on speed rather than grace or safety. “Jo?” She tried again, louder this time and with a real concern in her pitch. The news that their mystery nightmarish creature was actually a dog hit her soon enough but the panic was still moving at full speed before Gwen actually processed the word. She wondered just briefly if ‘dog’ could be some stupid slang for something worse but the tone Jo was using this time worked quickly to set her at ease.

By the time she came to settle in a crouch beside Jo, Gwen had gone right back to complaining about the room itself and thinking about how silly she’d been. A dog. It was like the good old days when cats and dogs and home decour items were quite literally raining on top of Lucifer. She couldn’t imagine how the poor thing had found its way down to the crawlspace beneath the station without anyone noticing, but at least it meant they weren’t in mortal peril. If it was rabid, they’d certainly know by now. This only left Gwen with a handful of other questions.

"Put the light on it," she directed Jo quietly so as not to startle the beast but still making it clear she was taking charge again. "It’s filthy," she said, not needing the torch light to know this. "And," she judged in a moment of odd solemnity. "It’s probably been starving." She actually wanted to reach out and stroke the poor creature’s coat, to reassure it. Instead, she moved to take the torch back from Jo and frowned whilst considering her next move. "I’m going to have a quick look around this room," she announced, still whispering. "See if there’s anything else. Then we can help him out the way we came. Sound good?"

[joannathehunter]

"Sounds good," she cooed, embracing the animal. Yes, Joanna was a fan of dogs. It didn't matter that this one was starving, broken, and dirty; she loved it all the same. Letting Gwen take the flashlight, the need for authority slipped away with each passing second. "Poor thing." She mumbled softly, holding him closer. Her expression grew with concern as the bulldog (at least, that's what he seemed to be), trembled with fear and pain. There was a lot of work to be done. As well as there being no question of who it went to. This dog would be Jo's, she knew it the moment his sad eyes met her chocolate ones. 

Childhood memories were riddled with visits of the canine variety. The huntress had never gotten the privilege of owning one of course, Ellen had never given her approval. This seemed to be the best opportunity before her. Plus, everyone would love the little guy. Jo had never seen anything so sweet and kind. "You done?" She glanced back at Gwen, hands still on her new friend. He whined as she looked away from him.

[castielisbackintown]

Please...

[torchwoodshead]

Hate to cut in, but I feel like I should say this for him. He didn’t intentionally leave you, this was the Pocket’s doing.

[joannathehunter]

No fucking shit, Jack. I'm not an idiot.

[castielisbackintown]

Please...

I’ve heard people are going missing and now I can’t find Dean. I’m usually the one disappearing on him, not the other way around. Though now I’m starting to understand the feeling…

What is happening? Someone please tell me this is just a bad dream.

[joannathehunter]

He's gone, Castiel. I woke up this morning and he was just fucking gone. He's gone, like he always is, he's gone.

And here I was thinking this was the one place he wouldn't skip town. The one place he wouldn't leave me.

[gwxncooper]

Riddles in the Dark || Gwen and Jo

[gwxncooper]

Nothing in the world was more irritating than being out of her element. Half the time, Gwen wasn’t even sure what her element was. Torchwood had faced creatures that couldn’t touch iron, that were invisible and some that were impervious to bullets.. Just never all three at once. That was the beauty of the job, though: you never knew for sure what you were getting into. As horrible and dangerous as it probably was, it worked out nicely for Gwen. She’d never been the sort to think too much before she felt the need to act. All things considered, it was a damn miracle she’d lived longer than the others.

Now that was a horrible thought, as if the room wasn’t dark and foreboding enough. The cop really didn’t appreciate the look she got from Jo Harvelle, but she had to face the fact that she’d surrendered her command the moment she’d looked back uncertainly. Her pride and her instincts demanded she stay in the lead, but she recalled the reason she’d not been down to the crawlspace since a brief search she conducted months ago. It was small, dirty, cold and downright creepy, so maybe that wasn’t her element anymore. Gwen had always imagined settling into a simple desk job before she hit her mid thirties.

She groaned in a quiet frustration and swore under her breath in Welsh, thinking somewhat spitefully that the curse had more of an effect this way. Gwen didn’t understand the orders she was given next, partly because if she hit anything, it would be with both rings on her right hand, and partly because she’d only just started to move one of the iron bands over and nodded to say she wouldn’t make a sound right when Jo called out a taunt as loud as any scream. She flinched in further indignation after suffering a delayed reaction to her stolen torch. This made Jo’s order to stay back a final straw. “No bloody way,” Gwen snarled at the volume of her promised whisper but with the fury of something more powerful. “What’d you think Dean’s going to do when I tell him you’re dead in the litt- Bollocks.” Jo Harvelle wasn’t listening. Gwen doubted she’d even heard the objection.

The Welsh woman held her ground for as long as she could bear to, counting to ten mentally in English and then again in Welsh. For good measure, she got to eight in French before she forgot the correct word for ‘nine’ and gave up anyway. This gave Jo a good thirty seconds of a head start. If she needed to make a quick retreat, it wouldn’t be so easy to crawl backward. Gwen’s only instinct would be to fire past her into the darkness, hoping to buy her some time, hoping actually that it wasn’t necessary.

For a beat, there was a very concerning silence. Gwen held the huntress’ rifle with uncharacteristic discomfort. It wouldn’t be easy to crawl whist keeping it ready to fire. She’d also considered tearing off the old stair railing. It was mostly iron and would work better than nothing. She dropped carefully to her knees then and peered into the darkness, thinking she caught a flash of blonde several feet away and the excitable movement of something else. Gwen stuck the rifle into the crawlspace before anything else. “Jo?” She whispered hesitantly with a final glance back at the railing. If she had to, she’d crawl through that mess like it was a simple hallway and empty that gun into anything that got close. On the count of three, she decided. Un. Dau...

[joannathehunter]

If anything, Jo was an extrovert. Growing up in the back of a bar sort of forces you to become one. Her homework was always accompanied with the sound of cheering or jukebox music, and now whenever she stumbled across a textbook she could swear she smelled beer. People made her feel stronger. Braver. With a social mask on, she felt less vulnerable and exposed, weirdly enough. The new solitary position she found herself in made the hunt a little bit harder. With a shaky breath exhaled, Jo pushed on through a spider web, following the light beam that shifted with her every movement. Her knees ached and the crawl space reeked of mold. Behind her, the light had faded away long ago, leaving the pasty dimness of a flashlight. The huntress's heart thumped a little faster as a mouse scurried by. "Gross," she muttered, shaking the feeling off. Adrenaline loosened. Fear struck like a second hand on a clock, tick tick ticking away. The crawl space widened in the distance. "I think it's getting bigger!" She called back, unafraid of startling any possible creature. If it was planning on coming out, it would have before. And why didn't it? Something was very suspicious about the hunt; very off. The whole thing was oddly empty.

Nothing seemed to show up. Maybe a minute had passed, and she had begun to hear movement far behind her. 'Great,' she thought, 'now I've got Miss Tea And Guns throwing herself into trouble.' Just as Jo had finished the mental statement, another growl was heard in the distance. The shock from the sound drove her to a stop completely. "Only a growl." The woman reassured herself. Heaving a sigh, she moved onward, moving fully into the more open area. Jo let out a groan of relief as she could finally stand, although it was more of a crouch, and began to flash the light around her.

She stopped with wide eyes as it landed on probably the personified version of a gargoyle. "Holy shit." Jo spoke abruptly, within the midst of a staring contest. "Holy shit!" She called out with more excitement, a grin moving over her face. "Gwen! It's a fucking dog!" A spurt of laughter trickled out, and she dropped to her knees. Number one rule of hunting: never keep your partner in the dark (figuratively, of course, Gwen and her were both very much in the literal dark). It seemed that Jo had forgotten entirely about the hunt. If she hadn't, she would've been pissed to the pits, angry that what was supposed to be her getting back in the game was actually a household pet. 

The dog, or gargoyle, was a mangy mess. Cowering in the corner, it glared at Jo with a warning snarl. Black and brown splotches of dirt covered the animal's fur. "Holy shit," Jo whispered, getting a better look. With caution, but no hesitation, she set down her weapon and flashlight, moving slowly towards the animal. "Hey, hey," she tried to calm him, a sweetness in her voice. The dog put out another growl, although this time it was more of a whimper: fear. Not anger, not a warning. Just fear. Bending her brow in concern, she made a sound of pity, approaching the animal further. "It's alright, sweetheart. Come here." Jo hovered her hand over the thing's forehead. It whimpered again, but made no sound of disapproval. Gwen's scuffling was heard in the vicinity. Finally, she reached her hand down to stroke tarnished fur. With each touch the dog relaxed more and more, moving closer until it sat between her legs. "Yes." She spoke, a word of victory and success.

[joannathehunter]

Text - Chestervelle

Jo: I just found this great thing.

[gwxncooper]

Riddles in the Dark || Gwen and Jo

[gwxncooper]

Gwen spent more time staring at the offered rings than she should have. At first, it was because she misinterpreted them as a gift and didn’t know how to respond. Then, she got her mind stuck on the concept of the jewelry itself. She’d worn two rings in the past year: the wedding band she lost before even ending up in the Pocket- Rhys would forgive her, eventually, assuming she ever saw him again -and a piece she’d borrowed from Meg and then grown attached to. That one was sat on the bedside table in the room they’d only just started sharing. Gwen felt a pang of sickness that had nothing to do with the mystery or monster that awaited them downstairs.

It wasn’t until Jo actually persuaded her to that Gwen accepted the rings and slid them over her index and middle finger. They fit a bit snug, which was probably for the best: they wouldn’t fall off. It was then that she recalled what Jo had said about iron as a weapon. Salt too. She still had a lot to learn and no real desire to do so. Feeling Jo’s eyes on her pistol, Gwen scowled. She tensed with what felt oddly like self-consciousness. She could remember firing at the Daleks, knowing full well that her bullets didn’t stand a chance but still determined to go out fighting. She had to set that thought aside in order to swallow her pride this time.

There was a huge difference between defiance and outright stupidity. She had no desire to die for some bloody creature in the crawlspace and that settled it. Gwen even felt a rush of guilt when she accepted the rifle from her companion. Unhappily holstering her preferred weapon, Gwen took a moment to readjust. The Beretta felt better in her hand and it normally allowed her to keep one finger on the trigger while still keeping the torch balanced in her other hand. She sighed and privately in her thoughts, she had to admit she was glad to not be facing this little nightmare on her own. It occurred to her on the way down the steps that she should apologize for being short in that final blog post, but now wasn’t the time and surely Jo could understand her frustration.

She focused on the stairs instead, brushing the old iron railing every so often and keeping a slow and careful pace. She wasn’t sure why this pathway even existed unless whoever built the Pocket town had meant to install a full basement later on but at least it gave their trek an easier start. At the bottom of the steps, Gwen aimed the beam of light at her feet, prepared to click it off if she had to. She paused for a good few seconds to listen, thinking on what Charlie had said about an invisible and deadly enemy and that ominous sort of growl she’d heard earlier, the cry of something trapped. They could fit into the next room but it would be cramped and damp and dangerous among the unfinished walls. She glanced at Jo, not meaning to look quite so uncertain.

[joannathehunter]

The once over provided a reveal to a million mistakes within the situation. As she opened her lips to verbally identify them, Gwen had already began moving down the stairway. She made sure to kick a rock up against the metal door in an effort to keep it open. Maybe letting the inexperienced half go first wasn't a great idea. Although, judging by the animal like characteristics, this creature certainly wasn't very strong. It also most likely lied under a category that couldn't touch iron. They reached the end of the stairs, and Jo suddenly found herself very agitated with the woman, holding back a sour expression. One was usually supposed to check with their partner before charging into danger.

A few things were sure in that moment. Whatever was creeping around down there, better it come out now and reveal itself. That meant calling attention. The next was that it wasn't anything too dangerous. Jo was an experienced enough hunter to handle a little poltergeist. Looking back to Gwen, she deadpanned at her expression, suddenly moving into action. She hastily grabbed the officer's flashlight and stepped in front of her. It was rude, yes, but the fact that she had gone before the huntress was so unbearably stupid it made Joanna want to scream. "So," she began in a slightly louder voice than usual, flipping around her iron knife in the opposite hand as the beam from the flashlight flickered quickly off the walls, "One of those rings, put it on the other hand. Even if you can't punch with it." Her head was facing the crawlspace, lips speaking clearly, though she tossed a nod back in Gwen's direction. "And I think you're smart enough not to scream. So don't." A chuckle slipped from her throat. Part of her was trying to ease the brunette's uncertainty, and the other was giving her a genuine warning. Harvelles weren't screamers. They didn't put up with screamers, either. There was no room for that in hunting. Sure, maybe the remark was a little jab, though that was just a nice release of anger; she felt guilty after saying it.

Silence held between them. Quickly, Jo raised her knife, slamming it loudly into the dusty banister. Echoing rings emitted from the iron below them, and it shook the stairs. "Come on, baby!" She called out into the darkness, "I wanna see your tits!" Yeah, a little immature, but at that point she was just having fun. The huntress knew how to keep her guard up and her humor sure at times like these. She was taking it very seriously; but there was nothing wrong with a little joking around. 

A scuffling sound filled their ears. After a few more clangs and random calls, nothing appeared before them. Jo let out a barely audible moan. "Alright," she said with certainty, pulling up her belt with three fingers, "I guess I'll go check out what down there." Another finger felt her pocket, checking to make sure her holy water flask was still there. Flashing back a glance to the other woman, she spoke again. "Don't go down there, alright? Just stay up here, no matter what you here. Seriously, I know you can handle shit but this is some other shit from what you're handling." A breath was taken. "If it seems like I'm in trouble, or I'm taking too long, call Dean."

Before Gwen could object she had already moved to her knees and began to squirm inside. 

[gwxncooper]

That's all I need,

[gwxncooper]

What the hell are salt bullets? 

You know what- whatever -I’ll just see you in a few minutes.

[joannathehunter]

[gwxncooper]

Riddles in the Dark || Gwen and Jo

[gwxncooper]

'Wanna give me the rundown?' Those were magic words. Gwen had known that Jack's absence put her back in charge of Torchwood, but she still had mourning to do and enemies to think on. Even when thing got exciting like this, it would never be like the old days, not really. This was something else. Whatever it was lurking beneath her floorboards, it would give Gwen's heart a reason to beat faster and her trigger finger a long-awaited sense of purpose.

When she regarded Jo Harvelle, her polite smile turned into something more genuine. “It’s started growling,” she began. She used a different tone when she was acting as a cop rather than as part of the Torchwood team. It wasn’t harsher, but lower and more direct. “I talked to Charlie and she thinks it’s definitely something from your world.” She paused for a beat to consider their earlier exchange, still a bit miffed that her gun had been called useless.

"The rail leading down those stairs is cast iron," she supplied quickly. This was still her mission after all. "We can get down there but after that, it’s a really cramped space and impossible to see." She tapped her pocket torch against her thigh for emphasis. "I don’t like it down there, but I need this thing gone, alright?" She nodded to herself, taking Jo’s compliance for granted and motioned to the path they were about to descend.

[joannathehunter]

A tight, pursed lip sigh was released after Gwen's explanation. The feeling of reality had totally consumed her, by that point. She couldn't help but think back to her hardest hunt: the Labyrinth. A blonde, a redhead, and a brunette walked into a basement. Only that time it wasn't a joke. The basement turned out to be a damn supernatural labyrinth, one that she was stuck in for three days facing six daevas. Those things might not seem like much of a threat. Yet with no armor, no ammo, no food, and no escape? Even a bear would be dangerous. She pushed back venom from her tongue. Of course her come back into the hunting world would reveal one of her worst episodes, sans redhead. "Alright," she blinked a few times, snapping out of a semi-daze and using her free hand to dig through the satchel.

With her eyes in the bag, she spoke to Gwen. "Have you hunted dark side before? I heard this isn't the first time something like this has happened." She fished out four iron rings, holding her palm out to the police woman. Nothing happened. Upon realizing that, Jo took a break from her searching to stare up at Gwen with confusion, and then dropped the expression completely. Her entire demeanor faltered with the explanation. "You can punch em'." She gave a short response, holding her hand out further. "Take two."

Jo quickly stuffed the other two rings on her fingers, then patted the holstered knife by her side. Afterward, she cocked the sawed off in a quick, one handed action. Her eyes trailed down the brunette's gun, remembering her unfamiliarity with their present situation. A heavy look of doubt rested upon the huntress's expression. "Here," she deadpanned, handing Gwen her own rifle. Digging out all the extra bullets from her pockets and bag, she put them in her companion's grasp, giving another once over. It didn't matter how much experience the woman had with aliens. She didn't have any with things that go bump in the night, and Jo wouldn't allow another civilian death. She could manage just fine with her rings and knives.

[gwxncooper]

That's all I need,

[gwxncooper]

Brilliant.

Also, Charlie Bradbury said something about salt. I’ll see if we’ve got some.

[joannathehunter]

As much as you can get. I'll pack some extra 'special' bullets, though I don't think they'll fit your gun. Try to find something iron. I've got some rings if you can't.

Now that I think about it, your gun really won't be much good, unless you've got salt bullets?

[gwxncooper]

Riddles in the Dark || Gwen and Jo

Gwen’s blog was probably the second most frustrating thing in the world. On top of everything else, she still had yet to announce and remedy the false PSA someone had managed to hack in and post to it. In truth, the food was fine, only diminishing quickly. When the resources ran out entirely, they’d be in a different sort of trouble. Thankfully, at the very least, she still had bullets. Gwen examined her trusty Beretta. It had taken her some time to start thinking of the weapon as her own rather than the gun that had once belonged to Jim Moriarty. Her old Sig Pro was still in Jack’s custody and her pride kept her from asking for it back a second time, so this would have to do.

She’d used the blog as a tool to vent her exasperation and unexpectedly found some assistance rather than any more attacks or questions. Jo Harvelle was promising. She carried herself with a purpose and just like Gwen, she’d come prepared. Truth be told, Gwen still owed the woman a favour after their last encounter. She was partially hoping that the promise of adventure would be a step toward that. The sounds coming from beneath the floor had been chilling at first. With so many missing people to consider, she’d feared for a minute that someone had gotten trapped down there. The idea was dismissed quickly enough as the sounds persisted. It was smaller and more excitable than a human.

The growl that followed a minute later was unnerving so Gwen resolved to wait before going in alone. She didn’t need to become another casualty. She was stood at the back wall of the station, visible from the entrance at just in front of a door that would led to some storage. Further down was the crawlspace under the building that might have been an unfinished basement. Gwen frowned, more disgusted than afraid at this point. She looked up when a sound came from the front of the station rather than the space beneath it and she even managed a smile.

[joannathehunter]

Jo took opportunities. That's what she was, that's what she was raised to be. If there was something she wanted and had the means to get, she would get it, hell or high water. In this case, it was more of heaven or high water. The huntress had spent her time blazing up Wendigos and all sorts of crawlers above the sky with her father. Of course, they were only illusions, as real as fictional characters; it left her itching for more. Itching for fear. In the moment, it was all very scary, all very exciting: but the result was never the same. She didn't do the job for the adrenaline rush. She did the job because whichever Jane or John Doe wouldn't end up as a Jane or John Doe, they wouldn't end up with a eulogy in a newspaper. They would end up with a life. That's exactly what she had been thinking about as she pressed down against cool wooden panels. Her hand reached under the bed, grasping a sawed off, six bullets burning ass through her back pocket. She grunted and brushed off a grin before standing. 

Maybe there was no Jane or John Doe that time. Maybe it was just Gwen, who was as experienced (if not more) than Jo. Still: real was real. And a growling noise under a house? That was enough for her. She frowned as the door opened. Her eyes trickled across Dean's home, swallowing tightly. He would want in on that. Hell, he would die for that, the Winchester was praying for a hunt. Yet he had expressed his feelings about Gwen. The tension between them would ruin a good hunt. He was busy enough as it was with Gadreel and Sam on his plate. She nodded to herself, certain, then moved down the stoop and made her way to the police station.

A figure stood just on the edge of her vision. Jo had wrapped her gun in a coat, just in case there were any prying eyes. She must have looked a little odd strolling past the park. The fabric was thrown aside as she approached the brunette. Last time she had seen her, the police officer had been dead asleep. She was pretty awake then. "Hey." Jo exchanged a quick pleasantry. "Wanna give me the rundown?" There was a bag slung over her shoulder, a satchel, really. The thing was full of the basics: table salt, more bullets (specific to her gun, salt as well), some spray paint, and a few iron rings. She adjusted the strap on her shoulder.

[gwxncooper]

That's all I need,

[gwxncooper]

I guess, if you like. Er, have you got a gun?

[joannathehunter]

No need to cross it out. I've got one.

I'll be there soon.

[gwxncooper]

That's all I need,

[gwxncooper]

God knows. It’s smaller than a person but it’s going pretty fast from the sound of it. I’m about to go find the damn thing.

[joannathehunter]

Do you mind if I come with? It might be my type of thing, if you know what I mean. 

[gwxncooper]

That's all I need,

The blog’s not letting me delete posts, I’m out of coffee and there’s something moving around in the crawlspace under the station. Seriously, I never asked to be the only cop in town.

[joannathehunter]

Something moving around? Like a person?

[obviousbicycle-justin-deactivat]

Everything I Did[n't] Say || Dean + Jo || Event 13

[obviousbicycle-justin-deactivat]

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[joannathehunter]

It was cat and mouse. It was a game of tag; they were kids again, kissing under the schoolyard slide. Lovers a level above their ultimate problem: the boy with the demon blood. Somewhere in the depths of Joanna's subconscious mind, she wept for the two soldiers. They had seen more death than an army vet. "Eep!" She called out, sliding across the carpet as she grappled the end of a banister. A moment was taken to regain her balance before she began to 'sprint' towards the old sofa, tumbling over it and landing flat on her back. The hard slam didn't seem to stop her. Jo wheezed out a broken breath before snapping back into her feet, sloppily and unsoberly, a teasing grin on her face. It seemed that the fall had brought Dean to some hesitation. They only stood unmoving for half a second; she barreled towards the kitchen. At the time everything seemed to be moving in an orderly fashion. However, the actual situation was slow, clearly intoxicated, and very messy.

She could only make it as far as the edge of linoleum tiles. "Deannn!" The huntress whined out, giggling as strong arms wrapped around her waist. They spun around for a moment, laughing as she squirmed. Finally breaking away from his grasp, Jo turned around to kiss him; it was a clashing of lips and saliva. Her tongue was touching places in his mouth she had never ventured before. Finally, she pulled away, panting slightly. "I'll make you some food," she mumbled into his lips, pulling his hand down to her backside. It took a few good seconds to finally move back.

Her hand hovered over the cabinet, then dropped to the counter. "Ohm'god. This was harder than I expected," she half laughed, half groaned, grasping the wooden handle. Drooping further, both of her hands clung onto the cabinet as her head hung low, body arched out at the hips. "Wha'do I do." Jo asked inaudibly.