Chapter Six – The First Challenge

"Yep, that's gotta be the place," Dean said, looking through the high-powered binoculars atop the ridge above the compound. "Looks like they got plenty of storm troopers watching the place from all sides. Ain't gonna be easy getting in."

Sam took in the entirety of the perimeter. On the east side, there was the bank of a river, wide open. To the west, a dense forest which offered slightly more hope of cover. He couldn't see what lay behind the buidlings, but it didn't look any more promising. "Maybe we can find an old sewer line to enter through."

"Maybe."

"See anything…non-human around?"

"Not so far," Dean answered as he continued to look around with the binoculars. "But if what ol' Vinnie says is true, this Collector guy's got himself his very own Manticore."

"His own what?" Sam asked.

"Manticore. Dark Angel? Compound of mutant freaks?" Sam gave no sigh of recognition. "Dude…forget it." Dean said with a huff, returning to his surveillance.

"So do we have a plan yet?" Sam asked.

"Well, looking at that place, I think you're right about Vinnie's 'escape' being a little too easy, so I think it's safe to assume they're expecting us, agreed?"

"Agreed."

Dean pointed the binoculars toward the woods. "I think the woods are our best bet. We should wait till dark, though."

"I think it's also safe to assume they're gonna have a welcoming party waiting for us from every direction," Sam added.

"Safe to assume."

Sam sighed. This was not going to be easy. "We should talk to Bobby, get some reinforcements."

"I have a feeling the cavalry's already being assembled," Dean answered. This was Bobby they were talking about, after all. "I don't think we can wait, though. It's an hour till dark and we have no way of knowing what's happening with Dad. I think we gotta try and get in there."

"Yeah."

"Let's get back to the car and load up. I got a feeling we're gonna need everything we can carry."

Crawling back on their bellies, they made their way back to the Impala.

SNSNSN

12 hours earlier…

John awoke to find himself lying on the floor of a large warehouse-like structure. Beams of sunlight shown down from windows high above and he could make out a labyrinth of crates throughout the room. He suddenly felt like a very small rat in a very large maze. Beside him was a duffle bag in which he found a glock pistol, a stake, some matches, a small pocketknife and a flask. He began loading his pockets with the supplies and stuck the pistol into his waistband. Standing, he quieted himself to listen to the room. Sure enough, he heard shuffling from the far end, along with a low growl. Okay, so not-human, he surmised. Gimme something else to go on, friend. It would have been nice if Victor had let him know what he'd be facing, but then, that would have been too easy. After all, the bastard wanted to see the great John Winchester in action. What better way than to see him figure out a hunt from start to finish.

He gave a brief thought to Sam and Dean and wondered if they were indeed on their way to him, but quickly pushed it to the back of his mind. One thing at a time here, John. Focus.

Suddenly out of the corner of his eye he caught movement, very large, not terribly fast. Okay, something corporeal. Could be a werewolf…no, wait, full moon was last week, so strike that. Wendigo maybe. Then he caught another glimpse. The creature was closer and John was able to get a better look. Gotcha, he smiled. Rawhead. Okay, so the gun is fairly useless. Ditto the stake. Gonna have to improvise here, he thought as he looked all around the room. He noticed a sprinkler system running the length of the ceiling. As he looked around for the other tool he needed, he suddenly heard a guttural growl and looked just in time to see the beast running at him. He ducked just as a large claw swept out at him, catching him on the shoulder. He grabbed the gun from his waist and fired at the beast twice, hitting it square in the chest. That only seemed to piss it off and it came at him once again. John ducked and rolled, then ran to a nearby crate and began climbing.

He knew Rawheads weren't the smartest creatures and hoped he could buy some time before the thing figured out how to climb up after him. Sure enough, he could hear pure anger in the howl the Rawhead released.

John continued his ascent on the crates till he was close enough to one of the sprinkler heads. Taking out the matches, he lit them and held them up to the head. Moments later, a shower of water poured out of the system. John then made his way atop the crates till he found what he was looking for: a fuse box. Making his way down to it, he could hear the Rawhead below, far closer than he liked for comfort, but then again, he knew he needed to lure the creature in closer for his plan to work. As he made his way closer to the fuse box, he found a clump of rope and grabbed it up. Looping one end over a rafter above, he tied off the ends, then removed his belt and looped it through the rope. Glad Dean made me sit through all those MacGyver reruns, John chuckled.

He made his way back down to floor level right next to the fuse box, keeping the belt/rope loop, which hung just above head-level, close by.

"Hey, fugly!" he yelled out. "I'm over here!"

Another guttural roar and John saw the beast come into view. John blocked the fuse box, just in case the thing had some smarts to figure out the trap. Apparently not, as the creature charged full-steam toward him. Just as it was about to ram into him, John hoisted himself up the rope, lifting both feet off the ground, and watched as the Rawhead ran head first into the fuse box, causing an explosion of sparks and electrical current to run through it and all along the floor. Despite the fiery pain lancing through his wounded shoulder, John held on until the current burned itself out. Moments later, the sprinklers shut off and he let himself down, clutching his bleeding shoulder and looking down upon the now-crispy Rawhead at his feet.

Flood lights shot on and John heard Victor's voice below out.

"Well done, John! Most impressive!" Victor said, walking across the room, clapping. "Very clever indeed."

John wanted nothing more than to smack the smug smile off Victor's face, but he saw the usual henchman, including Fitzpatrick, following behind and knew he'd have to wait for another time.

"William, please escort John to the infirmary to have his shoulder attended to and then see about disposing of that," Victor said, nodding toward the Rawhead's remains. "I am most impressed, John, and I look forward to your next challenge." With that, he turned and made his way out of the room. Fitzpatrick approached John, cattle-prod once again in hand, and John made his way past him to head to the infirmary.

"You heard the man, Willy. Better clean it all up, too. Doubt Vic would appreciate any mess left behind on his nice, clean floor." John said with a swagger as he walked past Fitzpatrick.

And John could swear he saw steam rise out of the fuming man's ears.