The scene in front of him was impossible to describe. It was so blindly horrific and raw that mere words could not describe it.
There were two victims. They had been tortured, but the usual signs were not present. Instead, the finger nails and toenails were ripped off, the lips were chewed, the eyebrows were torn, and several fingers were missing all together.
The two victims were obviously an engaged couple. Next to their bodies, two severed ring ringers rested; with the rings still attached.
Dean recoiled from the scene; his eyes not wanting to take it in anymore. Instead he turned to Sam, who was also utterly disgusted by the scene. Shiny beads of sweat were visible on his forehead, and his hands were clenched tightly. Sam's sleek and nicely tailored suit was probably going to get ruined after getting drenched in that much sweat.
Right as Dean was contemplating throwing up in a bush; a police officer noticed them and ran over. The man he was talking to looked at the two brothers with mysterious intrigue.
"So, what do you think agents? We have no clue who or what would want to do this."
Of course you don't. It was probably a sick monster freak on steroids.
"Well, the bodies were clearly moved here, for starters. There's no sign of blood anywhere around the scene so they might have been carried or driven here." Sam explained.
The police officer nodded his head in agreement.
"They were tortured for a…extended amount of time, killed, then moved here for all to see. The murderer really wanted to send a message."
The man nodded again, his eyes laced with worry and disgust.
"Thank you for coming. We should get every police department in Kansas on this. I'm just glad the FBI is willing to help. They usually don't get involved unless it's a big case." The officer replied.
"I mean, just look at it. This is downright satanic. How could we not take an interest?" Dean interjected. Sam elbowed him discreetly. "We'll catch your killer. No one should get away with this." Dean continued.
Sam stepped on his foot.
"Well, we should be going now. We will report back to you when we have some good news!" Sam pulled dean away from the scene and hurried him over to the impala.
"Dean, you can't just make jokes like that. And that line…'"No one should get away with this!"' What was that?"
"Okay Sam, first, it wasn't a joke, and second-no one should get away with this! Did you see what they did to that engaged couple?! They were engaged for god's sake and then some random guy took away their lives before it could even start!" Dean spat, fury shining brightly in his eyes.
"Well, yeah I get that! I had a girlfriend once too Dean! She was perfectly normal and we had a perfectly normal relationship until Yellow Eyes murdered her in front of me! Bad things happen to good people! We've known that since day one! Don't get so…amped up."
Dean caught what Sam was throwing.
"Really? You don't have to bring this up every time we go out!"
"I think I do! You get…carried away sometimes and…" Sam trailed off, not sure whether he should continue the conversion or press on.
Dean remained silent; he didn't want to poke the bear any further. He just wanted to leave.
"Let's just do the case and get out." He grunted. Sam nodded warily.
"Let's go back to the apartment and comb the lore." Sam suggested. Dean nodded in agreement.
They stepped inside the impala and drove off for the motel. Once safely locked in their small, enclosed space, they began their work. This was the part of the job that Dean always loathed.
Turning pages of dusty old books, searching amid endless gag sites and sifting through satanic or ritualistic garbage just to find the one piece of information you need.
After the second hour mark Dean had already eaten two hamburgers and downed two six packs of beer.
Mind numbing, boring research continued until finally Sam caught wind of something interesting.
"Hey, I think I found something." Interest finally peaked; Dean leaped out of the bed and was at Sam's side in an instant. "I had to go pretty deep to find this; these people online were theorizing about the murders together."
"So, it's like a chat room for murders?" Dean asked.
"Yeah, pretty much. It looks like these two users were having a pretty interesting conversation over it. Here, I'll read it to you."
Jester20B is online. Platonic_MonkeyGirl is Online.
"Jester20B: This could be like a kidnapping! They could have been tortured for a cult!
Platonic_MonkeyGirl: That's kind of farfetched…
Jester20B: Not really! It's happened before! I've read about it a few times.
Platonic_MonkeyGirl: If we're gonna try that angle than maybe we should look 2 the other side of the internet! :P
Jester20B: I don't know what you're talking about…
Platonic_MonkeyGirl: The Deep Web! It's the web under the web; the place Google can't penetrate! U can find all sorts of f #$?d up S #t there.
Jester20B: Oh yeah! I have heard of that! It's just insane!
Platonic_MonkeyGirl: Maybe they were involved in a…..
Jester20B: A what? What?
Platonic_MonkeyGirl: A Red_ Room.
Jester20B: What the f #k is a Red Room?
Platonic_MonkeyGirl: It says here on Urban Dictionary that a Red Room is quote a room that most deep web people die in end quote. To go into more detail, it's a livestream that people can watch on the deep web. It's just a person getting tortured while the viewers can suggest ways for that person to be tortured.
Jester20B: Okay, you can stop now!
Platonic_MonkeyGirl: I've actually been looking for one, but most people just think it's some urban legend.
Jester20B: Yeah, I think it's Best it stay that way! Why would you even go looking for it anyway?
Platonic_MonkeyGirl: IDK. I guess I guess I just wanted to prove to my friends that they could trust Me. I wouldn't actually watch it. I'd take a screen shot and send it to
Jester20B: Who would you send it to?
Jester20B: Who? Come on, I wanna know!
Jester20B: Monkey? You there?
Jester20B: Monkey? MONKEY?
Platonic_MonkeyGirl is offline.
Dean took a step away from the computer and put a hand on the bed to steady him. He had no words for what had just been read to him.
"Pretty spooky stuff right? What if she was onto something? I mean…they were pretty freakin' battered back there. You think…"
"In this world? Anything is possible. I'll take Red Room duty; you keep looking through the creature lore." Dean asserted.
Thus, for the next thirty minutes Dean sifted through pages upon pages of Red Room speculation and mythos while Sam sat on the bed twirling through monster books. All he found were sites claiming to be Red Rooms or people claiming to have survived a Red Room. They all appeared to be bogus. My websites aren't going anywhere! Wow, Sam, way to take your time.
Who ever thought a website with and about a deep web murder room could be boring?
After a while, Dean got so bored and antsy for action, he couldn't take it anymore. He didn't want to stare at Wi-Fi symbols and tracking arrows and phony websites any longer.
"I'm going out for some fresh air. Be back in a minute."
"Dean, wait! I think I found our monster! A fear Monger; it terrorizes you with pain and misfortune until finally killing you." Sam informed Dean.
"You keep looking over that. I'll be just outside."
Dean unlocked the motel room door and walked outside into the crisp, cold night air. There were millions of stars in the sky, each bright and clear as day. He put his hands on the impala and let his head fall between his shoulders. How did he even get here? For years and years, all he did was kill things he hated. But just a few weeks ago he was the thing he hated the most…and it didn't feel any different.
Blonk!
Darkness.
All Dean could see was blackness. He wasn't wearing a blindfold; it was just entirely black. What he did know was that he was strapped to a chair with rope that itched his tied hands. After struggling for a brief minute, Dean could tell that whoever tied him up had done a good job.
The knot was tight and restricting. His feet were also tied, but with a metal chain instead. The chair was a cold metal and couldn't be bent or broken like a wooden chair.
Instead of struggling, Dean waited patiently for something to happen while beginning to chaff away at his bonds.
Another minute passed and nothing had happened yet. The bonds holding him were weakening, but at an alarmingly slow rate. Right when Dean was thinking about shouting into the darkness, a spotlight came on.
He blinked rapidly; his eyes not used to this bright light. The spotlight trained on him wasn't normal white light- it was a bright, sickening red.
His surroundings suddenly illuminated, Dean could see his prison now. To his left there was a cart, full to the brim with instruments of pain and torment. There was nothing to his right but a rust colored brick wall.
Dead ahead was a large video camera. It looked very sophisticated with loads of bells, whistles, and buttons.
And a door. A door made of solid steel was off to his right. He did not want to meet anyone who would walk through it.
Speak of the devil and the devil may come. A freakishly tall Man walked through the door.
His hair was black as night and some of it flopped over his eye. His exposed eye was wide with excitement. He wore only a simple apron, ripped jeans, and a black t-shirt that read "Don't Kill the Messenger!"
He tiptoed over to the camera and fiddled with it for a moment before turning it on.
"Good evening Vietnam! It's your friendly neighborhood Red_Streamer reporting for duty! In today's live stream I have brought you an FBI agent! Isn't that cool? I caught him snooping around the drop site of the last Red Room stream participants! Well, lucky you! You found me!"
His voice was unnaturally high pitched, like a witch's from the story books. He smiled brightly between each sentence and never stopped to take in a breath of air.
"Aww, too bad you won't be able to go home to tell your friends about it!" He grinned and put his sweaty hand on Dean's head. Without hesitation, Dean shook his head violently.
"OOoooOOHh! We have a feisty one here folks! No worries, we'll break him soon enough! I leave it to you dear viewers; what kind of tasty torment shall we inflict on Mr. Agent today?"
The laptop on the cart suddenly exploded with message alerts.
Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!
The streamer ran over to it and started eagerly scrolling through the incoming messages. He muttered to himself and sometimes he would point and laugh, other times he would frown and yawn.
"Oh, I think I found a one good! Let's see…slice his arms to ribbons…OOooHh, nice wording there sir! I like it! Let's try it!"
He pulled out a hideously long knife from the cart and approached Dean with it. He mulled over which arm to take and then decided on Dean's right, or his left. He hurriedly rolled up Dean's sleeve and examined it.
"What's this? A groovy tribal tatt? What's it mean Agent?" He leaned in forward, his breath smelling like rotten fish and blood.
Anger was slowly building in Dean, and he tried to contain it. But that comment was the last straw; he felt something break inside of him.
"It's called the Mark of Cain. And it's going to help me escape." Instead of feeling explosive anger or debilitating fear, all he felt was calm. Deadly calm.
"OOoooh, it is? I'd pay money to see that! No one has ever escaped in the two years I've been doing this! They all just suffer. So will you." Wasting no time, the torturer dug into Dean's arm with vigor.
Instead of crying out in pain, the sudden shock of it jolted his muscles into action. As if pain gave him strength, he finally broke the bonds and jumped to his feet; failing to notice he still had the chains on.
"Woah! That's interesting! This will make for a great highlight!" The streamer ran at him with the knife. Fully expecting that, Dean ducked and reached up to tag him on the shoulder. With a slick flick of the wrist, the knife was out of the killer's hands and into Dean's.
"Still think this is going to be easy?" Dean snarled. He stumbled, the metal chains hindering his ability to walk or run efficiently. He waved the knife in front of him and made a face.
"You're good! I guess I shouldn't have underestimated an FBI agent huh! Well, no matter; I'll go out proud! Flint Mcfletcher will go out knowing he killed dozens all in the name of his family!" With that, he spread his arms, awaiting a fatal blow.
Instead of giving into the pounding blood in his skull, Dean lowered his weapon.
"Your family? What in Hells name made you think you were doing this for family? "Flint cocked his head and laughed. A joker style laugh that rivaled any monsters cackle.
"Ha! My parents and my little sister were killed by a Fear Monger! I saw it terrify them, I saw it torture them, and then I saw it rip into them! It started on me until someone came in and decapitated it! Wow; just like that! Dead with a single swipe of the blade! I was infatuated! I guess I was still messed up by the fear monger and that I…went mad! Ha!" He jittered and slid his hands together.
He smelled hideously awful; like blood and sweat. Dean's eyes watered at the mere thought of it.
"Well, come on then? Aren't you going to k-kill me?" He mocked irritatingly.
"Yes, I am going to kill you. But not before I give the viewers what they want; Pain."
*Pain*
The freakishly tall torturer lay dying. He shuddered and twiddled his thumbs.
"Oh, yeah…while I take my last breath…you know I killed one more person before you. She was cute…small and fragile…playing on her computer. Easy prey….I liked her….In a Platonic way of course."
The freakishly tall torturer lay dead.
*An hour of stumbling, blood stained walking later*
Dean finally spotted the Impala driving down the road toward him. His arm was still leaking blood, but he couldn't pay attention to it now. All his attention was devoted to the car and its driver.
Sam opened the car door and flung his arms around his brother. They didn't say anything; they didn't have to. The hug said everything.
"Did you kill the fear monger?" Sam asked.
"It wasn't a fear Monger. It was a freaking human. He was the Red Room operator. I killed him in front of the camera."
Instead of responding, Sam just looked horrified. At which part of the story Dean didn't know.
"Don't get your boxers in a bunch. I just killed him and got out. That's all."
"Good. I'll go tell the police department it's handled." Before Sam could walk off, Dean grabbed his arm.
"He killed Platonic_MonkeyGirl Sam. She was innocent."
"I know Dean. We're all innocent."