Top Models
Author: 7sTar
Author's notes: I wanna this one be short, at most three shots, but it depends.
Summary: If there's nothing the cops and detectives can do, Sam and Dean will give you a hand.
Category: Horror
Rating: T
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or Sam and Dean. I write just for fun. Please don't sue me.
Part 1
"Dean, are you sure this is our business?" Seeing the door shut again and no anyone else with them, Sam asked his brother.
The Winchester brothers were in the ascending glass elevator of a famous skyscraper in New York. Dean took his eyes back from the slim hot blonde who left the elevator one minute ago, smirked at his nervous brother, "Of course, we've discussed it many times before. And relax, dude, even in a modern place like this, you're still in and hot."
"Come on, Dean," Sam rolled his eyes, pissed off his brother, "I know you think you're hotter than me."
"Huh, smart boy," Dean chuckled, producing sharp contrasts between his neat white teeth and his tidy black suit. Picked out a samll piece of paper from his pocket, he glanced at the display lamp of the elevator, when it stopped at the 32nd floor, the two brothers stepped out of the elevator.
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"Mr. Winchester and Mr. Winchester?" Asked the beautiful miss secretary of STAR Model Management CCL, looking at the cards Dean gave her, which Sam insisted that they have no need to use fake names this time.
"Yeah, we want to see Mr. Steven Thompson."
"I'm afraid you have to wait a few minutes. Mr. Thompson is at an important meeting."
"Miss, we have an appointment with him," Dean took a peek at his watch, "at 3:00 pm, it's the right time now."
"I'm sorry, please wai..." but the secretary's words were cut short by Sam, "Please inform Mr. Thompson, the specialists come to help him resolve the death events of your company."
The secretary's face turned pale at the words "death events", she looked at the handsome boys with sceptical eyes then she nodded to them and picked up the phone.
Five minutes later, the Winchester brothers were sitting on the soft leather sofa of the president office, on the tea table in front of them were two cups of hot black coffee. Steven Thompson, the president of this corporation, looked at the young boys for a while then sat onthe oppisite sofa with a large smile, "You said you're pecialists?"
"Yeah, to some degree," replied Dean. Looked over to the shrewd and refined man, who looked like in his forties, he knew the businessman had a distrust of them.
"Look, the events are still under police's investigation. And I've asked some private detectives for help, they all got nothing." The smile faded from the face of the president, he lowered his voice with a solemn expression, "It's a great loss for my corporation and me."
"I know, Mr. Thompson," Sam said, exchanged the eyes with his brother, "Can youtell us more details about all the misfortunes?"
"Hum," Steven Thompson snorted out a complain rather than a reply, "Gentlemen, you know, there are many people volunteering in the case since I offered a reward of 100 million dollars for it."
"Mr. Thompson, " Sam stared at him, "We won't take a buck away from you without the truth."
"As everyone warranted," Steven Thompson sneered, which made Dean a little irritate but he controlled himself as he always did, waited for the following text of the businessman.
"Whatever, I make every possible effort." Steven Thompson contiued, "Four excellent models of mine were killed in less than two months, caused great alarm and trepidation in my company."
"We're sorry about that," Dean sighed with a shrug, "But can we start our work now?"
"Good, young man, I like your style. All the materials of the legal cases and victims, for the sake of saving your time, and mine, you can get the copies from my secretary. And my private phone is open for you."
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"Sammy, what are you thinking now?" Asked Dean. His eyes didn't leave the files under his arms, and his brother, Sam, skimmed carefully over the pages as well. It took the younger boy another five minutes to take it all in, then finally he threw the pen in his hand aside and lay on his back beside his brother in the large bed which belonged to a high- class hotel in broadway.
Sam rubbed his eyes, with a slight hesitation he replied, "Dean, I think somthing strange. Four male top models were killed in their mansions, but no fingerprints, no footprints, and nothing was shot by the monitors."
"And their faces were scratched badly before they died," Dean supported his body up with his arms, looked at his brother, "Dude, it reminds me of Nip/Tuck."
"Shhh," Sam rolled his eyes, "I wonder how do you have so much time watching TV?"
"But with you by my side," Dean smirked, "I have no time to entertain myself."
"You jerk," Bouncing up from the bed, Sam reached the remote and turned on the TV set, "Don't waste this, I have no idea why you chose such an expensive hotel."
"Hey, bitch, we'd treat us well sometimes," Dean blinked, "And we'll become millionaires."
"Two half-millionaire if it's possible," Sam took a deep breath, patted his brother on the shoulder, walked over to the bathroom, "We'd better go to work after I finish my shower."
"You're enjoying the service as well, Sammy," Dean murmured at the other boy's back.