Chapter Four: In Which More Stuff Happens

XxRayvnexX: Raven is stepping right on it!

Lanawannabe(DFN review): Just hugs, many hugs.

There are some Italian words in this, very basic. You won't need to understand them, to understand them. You know?

Used: Free translation

Words in English at the bottom.

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Sam put on his headphones, hooked into his laptop's media player playing Linkin' Park and Jay-Z's Numb/Encore Remix -because he's emo like that and I like the song- with a shudder. He was sitting on his bed, in the second motel room he'd hired out that day.

Dean didn't know the number of that motel, but a quick scouting out of the halls had proved Sam's suspicions correct; Dean was knocking on every door to find him. But this motel was huge, 246 bedrooms, not counting the staff and 2nd and 1st class areas. So it would have to be ages until he found him, right?

Sam shivered once more, searching for the ice bucket with the beer. If he was going to get by this, he'd get pissed!

It was there. Well, shit. Sam groaned, risking the hotel hallways in search of drunken freedom.

Bad move, Sammy, m'boy.

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Tap, tap, tappa, tap. Tap. Tap. Tap!

Click.

"Go-time."

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Three girls stepped out of an alleyway, a blonde, brunette, and a redhead. They were tall, beautiful Amazonian ladies. Each looking like a man with a desire for disproportioned fruity ladies had shoved a melon down their skanky-ass tops, and with exceedingly impractically short skirts, hot pants and high heels. All glittery and pinky and wobbly.

Oh dear sweet Jesus, save us all. Even the Protestants and Atheists. Satanists, not so much.

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Tap tap tap tap tap, tappa tap!

Click.

"Oh buggerit."

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Another trio of girls walked out of an alleyway. A blonde, a black-haired girl and a redhead.

The blonde wore her hair back in a short ponytail, white high waist jeans, a blue t-shirt, runners (Sneakers, trainers) thick-rimmed metallic blue glasses and about 7 bulky digital watches, all set to different times. She looked to be only about 16, and recovering from a bad bout of adolescent acne. And there was no development up top in sight.

The black haired girl had her hair down but clipped back with discreet hair pins, she wore a red v-neck top with black jeans, and an old ankle length black jeather coat, beaten up and and broken in. The coat I mean, not her. And two scabbards, one hung on either side.

She carried her somewhat feminine curves awkwardly, unused to them.

And the redhead was just a bombshell in black and red also, a flames theme in her clothes. She had her hair cut into a pointy(…) type of long bob with a big fcking gun in hand.

Each had a little headset thing, in black.

And I like to describe my characters. ;;

A voice sounded in their ears. At least, besides the ones telling them to Go home; Kill; and burn things respectively.

"You all in position?"

"Yeah, yeah, Raven, we're here. Now get on with it." Destiny, the blonde groaned.

"Okay, Destiny, you're on surveillence. Erin, you're to grab Sam. Gabrielle, take down the Sues best you can."

The black-haired girl grinned nastily, showing most of her white but a little crooked teeth, "Sí, amico. I will handle those pitiful femmine." She answered in from-a-bad-book English, and flowing Italian. With an accent. I like accents.

"English, Gabrielle, ENGLISH. Surely your lil ol' mind can handle that?" Erin rolled her eyes, though with a smirk, "And you, Acne Academic, get to work already. Or will you join the dark side?"

"Shaaaat up." Destiny, with her own wonderfully Sueish name, (look I was 11, okay?! ELEVEN!), snapped back like a pissed off chihuhahahhaa… God damn, how do you spell that?! Or even stop? And it sounds evil. ChihMUHAHA!

But I digress.

And say I a lot.

Look, let's just get back to the Mary-Sues, okay? Then we get to Sam.

"Zitto!"

Gabrielle always has to have the last word.

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The WinSisters started to move in, charming the hotel attendants with their Mary-Sueishness for information, and then.

"What do you want." It wasn't a question. And this wasn't an easily charmed guy.

This was a tough-as-titanium-alloy-nails hotel manager. A female one, sophisticated, sexy and classy with blonde hair twisted up into an elegant bun.

She was female, smart and very, very classy. These bitches were toast! With bacon and eggs!

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Sam put 80 cents into the drink machine, selected 7Up and waited for the rumble-rumble-CLUNK. And waited. And waited.

And was then jumped by his brother who leaped out from behind a desk and whacked a pad of chloroform over his mouth.

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Short, I know but I had to update!

Zitto: Quiet. Si, Amico: Yes, friend. Femmine: Women.