The song I titled this chapter after isn't available on Spotify, and the only version that's available on YouTube is incomplete… If you want to look it up it's "Le Grandi Nave Blu" by Mario Mari E I Soui Fratelli. (If anyone from Italy is reading this, please let me know if I spelled that name correctly.) It is most associated with the cruise ships Achille Lauro and its sister Angelina Lauro. Those aren't the ships this story is based on. I just thought the song (or the little bit that's available) was fun.

Friday, October 11th, 2008

Fort Lauderdale, Florida

Skye broke as soon as the coroner left the room. She'd been able to hold it together through the man's entire spiel about the autopsy and all the unusual things he found, but once he was gone she had to let go of all sense of professionalism and just breathe. Unfortunately, the tight pencil skirt made that impossible.

"Jesus, Dean, where'd you get this skirt? The children's section?" she asked while rubbing a hand over the lower part of her stomach.

"It was all they had that looked like it would fit you," he tried to defend.

"Oh, I sincerely doubt that."

She couldn't double over in pain as the wretched garment had her waist in a vice grip. In the past day her PMS symptoms had gotten worse. Normally she didn't have it this severe, but all the travel and time zone hopping she'd been doing lately had probably taken its toll. The best she could do was hold onto the edge of the examination table for support and try to give her lower body a break from having to carry her weight.

Internally, she was cursing herself out. As much as she wanted to put the blame on Dean for her discomfort, Skye really knew that she was the only one to blame for her own discomfort. When she woke up that morning, Sam and Dean explained that they were going to have to pose as feds again in order to get an up-close and personal look at the body. Skye was fine with that until she realized that meant she was going to have to buy new (err, pre-owned) clothes in order to look more the part. That was the last thing any woman wanted to do when her stomach was already bloated and cramping. So, she thought fast to find an excuse.

The best she could come up with was playing dumb. Not to mean that she had no idea what they were talking about, more that she played up her inexperience with hunting and guns. She stressed her anxiety about hunting a creature she knew very little about and her desire to write down a few more notes in her journal on the lesson they gave her about guns a few days before. She must have been convincing enough because she got the brothers to agree to a compromise. One brother would stay behind to tutor her while the other went to the nearest thrift store to get her a decent enough outfit. Simple enough.

Except that the brothers had decided to use Rock, Paper, Scissors as the way to decide which of them should be the one to go shopping for women's clothes and Dean lost. Granted, it would have turned out disastrous either way, but somehow Dean being responsible for the disaster just made it worse. Despite not only having told him what sizes she was but also writing it down, he still managed to buy Skye clothes that were much too small. She would have complained, but by that point she didn't have a choice. It was either wear the clothes to the coroner's office or go naked. Since the latter was only going to happen over her dead body, she literally had to suck it up and hope her gut didn't come popping out of her pencil skirt.

"Do you need to go back out to the car?" she heard Sam ask. "We won't hold it against you if you do."

All Skye could do was grimace.

"What I need is for the damn Midol to kick in before I freaking explode." Moving one hand to cradle her stomach and slowly lifted her head up to try to look Sam in the eyes. "I'm fine," she assured him through a staggered breath. "I know I need to learn this. I can play along."

"But you don't have to…" Before Sam could finish that sentence, the sound of a door clicking open cut him off. Instantly, Skye sprung to stand up straight. Clasping her hands behind her back, she turned and smiled at the older man who entered the room.

"Hi," she said pleasantly. "You must be the coroner."

Behind her, she could hear Sam and Dean murmuring to each other. Skye didn't pay them much attention. So long as she got this guy to believe she was a real professional, it didn't really matter.

Unfortunately, the older man didn't seem to take her smile as anything professional. The one he gave her in return told her that he took it as an invitation.

"Well, hello there," he said. "You must be the FBI agent they told me about."

"Yes I am," Skye said, doing her best to keep any measure of despair from seeping into her voice. Although, that was probably the wrong move given that his smile didn't diminish one bit.

"Wow," he said. "Well, they didn't mention how beautiful you are."

"Probably a reason for that." This time Skye didn't bother keeping the nervous distress from her voice and thankfully, it didn't go completely unnoticed. Dean cut in by clearing his throat.

"Agents Ford and Hamill, FBI," he said, introducing himself and Sam. "That's Probationary Agent Fisher. She's only here to observe. We're the ones you want to be talking to."

"Oh, right, of course," the coroner said without any shame.

Skye gave Dean a grateful look and he motioned for her to step closer to him and Sam on the other side of the table. She did so hastily, much to the disappointment of the coroner who stepped into the space where she had been.

"What can I do for you today?" he said before gesturing to the body on the table. "You said you wanted to see Mr. Thompson?"

"That's correct," Dean answered.

"Might I ask why the FBI is interested in this case?"

"We took notice of the autopsy report you submitted," Sam answered. "We think it might have a connection to a few other cases based on the state the body was found in."

"What, like a poisoning?" the coroner asked.

"Why would you think poisoning?" Dean countered. The coroner half-shrugged.

"You saw the report," he said. "His death looks natural, but then you have the substance that was found on his hands…"

"You weren't able to identify it," Sam correctly concluded. "Do you still have a sample?"

"Hopefully," the coroner said as he moved closer to the refrigerated lockers.

"Hopefully?" Dean questioned. The coroner sighed and opened one of the lockers. From it, he pulled out a white Tupperware-style container which he set down on the table next to the body of Fred Thompson. There was a defeated slump to the coroner's shoulders as he spoke.

"It's decomposing," he explained. "There's not much of it left."

"May we take a look?" Sam asked. The coroner nodded, popping the top off the container.

"Knock yourself out," he said, placing the container on the other side of the table so it'd be within easier reach. "Just don't touch it without gloves. We still have no idea what it is."

"Well, we might," Dean remarked absently. Though they did in fact know what it was, Dean, Sam, and Skye still donned latex gloves. The brothers had already assured her that shed shapeshifter skin was perfectly safe to touch, but that didn't mean it still wasn't completely gross.

One look inside the box was all Sam and Dean needed to confirm that it was shapeshifter skin, judging solely off their reactions. Dean held the container out so Skye could take a closer look. He even let her poke it with a scalpel she found off to the side. There wasn't much of the skin left, but what was there had a reddish-flesh complexion and had the same consistency as a freshly-picked booger. Tapping it with the scalpel drew back a long, thin string of goo. Skye scrunched her nose.

"Ew," she groaned. "That's real?"

"It's real," Dean confirmed.

"Gross."

"Sweetheart, if that grosses you out, you're in the wrong profession." Just like that, Skye turned her disgusted glare onto the coroner. Sam cut in before an issue could start.

"So, can you explain why you think this is poison?" he asked. "I'm not saying definitively that it is. I just want to know why you think so." The coroner sighed.

"I'm not entirely convinced," he admitted. "But with the unidentifiable substance at the scene, I didn't want to rule out the possibility of the cardiac arrest Mr. Thompson experienced was caused by a toxin."

"But you don't know that it's a toxin," Sam pointed out.

"All we know is that it's an organic compound based on the way that it's decomposing," the coroner explained. "Whether or not it's toxic is still up in the air. It's a possibility."

"That wasn't all you found in the man's hands," Dean said. "The report mentioned that DNA was found, too. Did that lead to any suspects?" The coroner groaned.

"That," he said, retrieving a folder off the counter behind him. "Is a different mess entirely." He handed the file over to Dean who opened it up to reveal pages full of test results that none of them were likely to understand.

"Did it not match anyone?" Sam asked. The coroner scoffed.

"Worse," he said. "It matched a dead person."

"Who?" Dean asked.

"His wife," the coroner said. "She died of cancer last year. Her DNA was in the CODIS system from an arrest several years ago."

"And you're sure she's dead?" Sam asked.

"Yes," the coroner said. "Detectives interviewed the family. They were outraged by the suggestion. I guess they watched her be cremated, so they're pretty sure."

"And the DNA was found in his hand with the goo?" Dean asked.

"Yes," the coroner confirmed. "But there's a million ways that could have happened. At least, that's what forensics is saying."

"Right," Dean said, buying that as much as the coroner did. With a shake of his head, he handed the file and the container back to the coroner. "Well, we think we've got everything we need. Thank you for your cooperation." The coroner took both offered items, looking confused.

"Didn't you want to examine Mr. Thompson's body?" he asked.

"No, I think you've given us everything we need." Dean said. "Let's go."

He and Sam started walking away. Skye moved to follow them, but was stopped when the coroner grabbed her by the coat sleeve.

"Hey," he said. "So, I was just wondering how long you're going to be in town for…"

Skye stared at the man in open-mouthed shock. Yes, she was used to having men be a bit pushy with her, but she hadn't expected someone to be so blatant about it in their place of work (that wasn't a strip club.) Seeing as they were about to leave anyway, she decided it was appropriate to completely throw professionalism out the window.

"Screw off," she said as she snapped her hand back. Briefly, she felt her surroundings shake, but thankfully it wasn't anything more than a small tremor. She sprinted to catch up with Sam and Dean.

"You alright?" Sam asked when she reached them.

"Yeah," she said, pain and annoyance coloring her voice. "Thanks for the help."

"You had it handled," Dean dismissed. Skye really wanted to argue otherwise, but she couldn't think one that didn't end with "I almost collapsed the building on top of us." Instead, she just scoffed.

"That's the last time I try being professional," she said.

If getting hit on by some creepy old coroner wasn't bad enough, being forced to stand on a narrow, crowded gang plank in the hot Florida sun just made Skye's day worse. After leaving the coroner's office, Dean declared that their next move would be to check out the scene of the crime. Fortunately for them, the boat was still in port. Unfortunately, it was scheduled to set out for another cruise later that day. That meant a crowd of people were all trying to get on the boat at the same time, and no amount of fake-badge flashing would let them cut their way through. They were forced to wait their turn like everyone else.

That didn't bode well for Skye. The Midol wasn't working its magic like it normally did. She was hot, sweaty, irritated, and most importantly in pain. If she wasn't so determined to prove she could handle the job, then she probably would have tapped out and gone back to the Impala.

That wasn't going to stop a whine from entering her voice, though.

"Tell me again why we have to check out this guy's room?" she asked.

"Because the suspect might have left something behind that the coroner might have missed." Sam's emphasis on "suspect" was supposed to serve as a reminder that they were surrounded by civilians. Skye rolled her eyes. She didn't need that. She wasn't stupid.

"I know that," Skye said, taking a few sidesteps as the line shuffled forward. "But aren't we a little too late? I mean, they're filling up the boat for another cruise."

"That just makes it even more important," Dean said. "I mean if we can find out who's doing this before all these people are trapped on here with them then it won't happen to anyone else."

"Wait, you honestly think the suspect is still on the boat?" Sam eyed his brother incredulously while Dean just shrugged.

"Hundreds of people trapped on a floating tin can out in the middle of the ocean with no law enforcement? You try finding a better victim pool." Sam shook his head.

"That doesn't mean they'd stay on the same ship," he pointed out. "In fact, if they were smart they'd probably 'change identities' and go on a different boat."

"Don't most serial killers stay in the same area?" Skye questioned.

"She's got a point," Dean said. "Could've 'changed identities' and stayed on the same boat."

"Nah," Sam said. "They've got to know this would attract attention, either from the cops or people like us."

The line moved up again and Skye frowned. She took the opportunity to ponder the situation.

"What if this wasn't a planned attack?" she asked as the line once again came to a stop. "What if it was an accident?"

"An accident?" Dean questioned.

"Yeah," Skye said. "I mean, Fred Thompson wasn't a young guy. Maybe he saw the 'suspect' 'change identities,' freaked out, and had a heart attack."

Dean and Sam exchanged a look before Dean looked back at her, shaking his head.

"I don't think so," he said. Skye frowned.

"Why not?" she asked.

"Because it's never an accident," Dean said. "Not with these guys or anyone else like them."

"You don't know that," Skye said.

"Yes I do." Skye opened her mouth to protest, but Sam cut her off.

"Skye, I know this is hard to believe, but things like this are very rarely an accident," he explained. "These 'suspects' don't think the way we do. Killing is a game to them. Once you've been doing this for a while…"

"Oh God," she groaned. "Just because I'm inexperienced doesn't mean that I'm wrong."

"I'm not saying that you're wrong," Sam clarified. "It's just unlikely that you'll be right."

"Same thing," Skye argued.

"Look, we're just trying to warn you," Dean explained. "It's not going to turn out how you want it to."

"I don't want it to turn out any particular way," Skye said. "I'm just saying that it's a possibility."

She watched Dean and Sam exchange looks before shaking her head and looking away. If they didn't want to hear her out, that was fine. It wasn't like she was there to learn or anything.

Eventually, the people in front of them were allowed onto the boat, bringing the three of them to the front of the line. A man in an official uniform asked for their passports, but Sam and Dean whipped out their badges instead.

"We're here to speak with the captain," was all Sam had to say for them to be welcomed aboard.

The boat was not the best-looking vessel in the port – either inside or out. The exterior was rusted with paint chipping off in chunks, and the interior hadn't been updated since the '70s. Not that any of them could really judge – it was on-par with most of the motels they usually stayed at. However, Sam had done a bit of research about the ship and knowing what people were paying to be there, they really should've gotten a bit more bang for their buck.

It didn't take them long to cross the ship to the bridge as the ship was very small compared to the others in the port. According to Sam's research, it was built back in the 1950s and had been through multiple owners and name changes since. At that time, it was sailing under the name the Oceania and was owned by a Greek cruise line. Aside from Fred Thompson, no one had ever died on the ship and there weren't any significant incidents that Sam had been able to find. I was just a tiny, old boat with a few bad reviews on Trip Advisor. Nothing truly out of the ordinary.

Reaching the bridge, they were presented to the ships captain; a middle-aged Italian man named Giovanni Avellino. Skye had done the research on him as well as a few of the other staff members she could find online. She found that Avellino had a family in Italy and a mistress in Fort Lauderdale. He also had a few sketchy investments and hidden bank accounts, but was otherwise clean. There was nothing to suggest that he was the shapeshifter. Of course, that was Skye's analysis and it wasn't like she was an expert on monster social media habits.

So, upon meeting the captain, both of the brothers kept their guards up. The charming smile and affable demeanor mean nothing. Until they knew who the shapeshifter was, everyone was a suspect.

"Good afternoon," the captain greeted, smiling way too hard. "Welcome aboard the Oceania. I am Captain Avellino."

Dean introduced the three of them using their aliases, and the captain shook their hands. It didn't go beyond anyone's notice that his hands were clammy or that he was shaking like a leaf. Those facts weren't doing him any favors, but he still managed to keep his tone enthusiastic and his voice overall even.

"So, to what do I owe the honor of having the FBI on my ship?" he asked, his eyes moving from Dean, to Skye, to Sam, and back again.

"We're here to investigate a death that occurred on this ship," Sam explained. "Mr. Fred Thompson."

A look of relief crossed Avellino's face, followed quickly by confusion.

"I'm sorry, who?" Skye's expression darkened.

"Fred Thompson?" she questioned. "The guy who died on your boat last week?"

Avellino still looked confused. One of his subordinates tapped him on the shoulder and not-so-subtly whispered "the heart attack guy, sir." Only then did the gears click.

"Oh, yes," he said, schooling his features into something more empathetic. "Mr. Thompson, of course. We are all so deeply troubled by his loss."

"Yeah, so are we," Sam said, eyeing the captain warily. "We were hoping you could give us some information regarding the circumstances of Mr. Thompson's death; let us look around his cabin."

"I thought his death was a heart attack," Avellino said. "Why do you need to look at his cabin?"

"We're looking into a series of deaths," Dean explained. "Fred Thompson's might fit the pattern."

"Anything you could tell us could really help us out," Sam added.

"Well, I am sorry but I do not think there is much to tell," Avellino said. "We just found him in his cabin already passed. There was nothing we could do."

"So, what was done?" Sam asked. "Who was the person who found him?"

"One of the stewards, I think," Avellino said. "He went into the room to clean and found him dead. Uh, which one was it again?"

There was a moment of confused murmuring before one of the ship's officers was able to pull up the information on his PDA.

"Uh, Ed Clarke was the one to report the body," they advised.

"Can we speak to Mr. Clarke?" Sam asked.

"Is that really necessary?" Avellino asked. At that point, both Dean and Sam joined Skye in fixing the captain an odd look.

"Well, we'd like a first-hand account of the condition the body was found in," Sam explained.

"But you don't need it…?" Again, the captain looked over the three "agents," searching for any indication of something that he wasn't going to find. Dean furrowed his brow and narrowed his eyes.

"Yes, we need it," Dean said. "Is that going to be a problem?"

"Well, I don't know if Mr. Clarke is scheduled for this trip," Avellino said. "Besides, we are going underway shortly. Perhaps this could be done upon our return Monday?"

"We'd rather get this done ASAP," Dean said. The captain laughed at the notion.

"I don't think you understand," he said. "I cannot afford to have this trip delayed. You are going to have to come back Monday."

"Uh, captain," Sam said before anyone else. "A man died on this boat. You know there needs to be an investigation."

"Yes, and there was," Avellino said. "The Broward County Sheriff's Department came. They took the body, did their investigation, and left. I assume you could just get the details from them."

"That's not how this works," Dean said.

"No?" the captain questioned. "Then tell me how it works, agent."

Dean's expression steeled. Clearly the captain wasn't someone who was going to be easily pushed around, but Dean wasn't either. He studied the man, trying to find the exact right spot to hit…

"What about this," Skye said, breaking the bubble abruptly. "How long until the boat leaves?"

"Forty-five minutes," one of the crew members answered.

"Forty-five minutes," Skye affirmed. "That'd be enough time for us to take a quick look around, right?" She looked between the two brothers, but Sam was the only one to respond.

"Yeah," he said with a nod. "We'll just take a quick look and disembark before you get underway. Sound good?"

A thoughtful look crossed Avellino's face as he took a moment to consider the offer. It was a painfully long moment that had even members of his own crew frowning in exasperation. There was an audible gasp of relief when he finally did speak.

"That sounds like it could work," he agreed. "I can have a steward escort you up there."

"That would be great, thank you." Avellino nodded in acceptance of Sam's thanks before grabbing the mouthpiece of the handheld radio clipped to his shirt. While he tried to get in contact with the right people, his crew went back to their respective duties. With all the civilians suitably distracted, Skye felt it safe to speak freely.

"You guys are sure we absolutely need to do this?" she asked Sam and Dean in a hushed tone. "Because it doesn't sound like there's going to be much there."

"We're sure," Sam said. "It's better to make sure we're not missing anything than to take the risk." Skye nodded, taking a deep breath in and out.

"Okay," she said on the exhale. Dean raised an eyebrow.

"If you don't think it's worth it, why'd you fight for it?" he asked, more curious than anything.

"It's not that I don't think it's worth it," Skye explained. "I'm just worried we're not gonna get off the boat in time."

"It'll only take a few minutes," Sam assured. "We have plenty of time."

Sam was right, they did have plenty of time. …Plenty of time to get hopelessly lost on the world's smallest cruise ship. For thirty minutes, the three of them had walked the ship seemingly in circles, looking for the cabin where Fred Thompson had died, and yes, they did have to look. They were supposed to be led straight to the cabin by a staff member, but the one they got didn't have a clue what they were doing.

The stewardess they had gotten assigned had been a joyless blonde woman by the name of Hannah, and they only knew that much because of her nametag. When she had arrived on the bridge, she hadn't bothered introducing herself. She just looked them over with a bored expression before saying "let's get on with it, then" in a very annoyed Australian accent. Given they had no other choice, the three hunters followed her.

That had been a mistake. In truth, they were led from one hallway down another with no indication given that they were even heading in the right direction. Eventually, Sam noticed that they had made four left turns in a row and called Hannah out on it. She was rather flippant about the accusation, causing Sam, Dean, and Skye to decide that they'd be better off trying to find the cabin themselves.

Still, Hannah wasn't going to help them any. The directions she gave them were vague and hard to follow. They ended up randomly walking around the level the cabin was supposed to be on, looking for a room number that matched up. When they finally found it, it was made apparent that they were in the right place not only by the out of service sign that hung on the door, but by the yellow crime scene tape that was still stretched across the frame.

"Yeah, that's not going to scare the guests at all," Skye had to remark.

Before taking off on their own, they had gotten the room key from Hannah. So it was only a matter of taking down the tape and unlocking the door. Inside, the room wasn't clean, but it wasn't a mess either. It clearly hadn't been touched since the police came through, which was good for them. There'd still be a chance some worthwhile evidence could've been left behind. Although, upon first look nothing was obviously jumping out at them.

"How much time have we got?" Sam asked.

"Fifteen minutes," Skye answered, having been using Dean's phone to watch the time the entire walk down. "We're cutting it close."

"We have plenty of time," Dean dismissed. "These things never leave on time."

"And since when were you an expert on cruise ships?" Dean shot her a look, but Skye remained unbothered. "What are we looking for, exactly?"

"Anything that can help us track the shifter," Sam answered as he started going through a set of drawers.

"Like what?" Skye questioned further.

"It could be anything," Sam said absently as he searched.

"So keep your eyes peeled," Dean added, looking in the gap between the bed and nightstand.

"Helpful," Skye remarked to herself as she crouched down to the floor to look under furniture.

She highly doubted that the shifter would be dumb enough to leave behind anything that could be used to track them at the scene of the crime. If anything, it would have been in whatever room they were staying in, but she wasn't going to try to argue that point. After all, they barely had time to search this one room, never mind the whole ship.

At least, she thought she did. It turned out searching the room really did take a lot less time than Skye thought it would, given that there were three of them and this was one of the cheapest and smallest rooms available. The room didn't have many amenities, so they didn't have a lot of places to search. However, they didn't turn up many leads either.

Other than a few flakes of what Dean thought could be dried shapeshifter skin, they found nothing. Accepting defeat, the three hunters left the room only five minutes after entering. As they did so, Skye couldn't stop herself from opening her mouth.

"That seemed pointless." The look Dean gave her immediately made her regret saying it.

"We had to check," he insisted. "If we missed something, it could've meant someone's life."

"But here was nothing there," she argued against her better judgement.

"But if there had been and we didn't check it out, that would've been on us," Dean explained. Skye winced. "What's your problem?"

"I just want to get back to the car." Squeezing her eyes shut and placing a hand on her abdomen, Skye truly meant those words. She had barely even done anything and she already felt like she needed a shower and a nap. Maybe she should just head back to the motel and let Sam and Dean handle the rest…

She felt it before anyone else did. The vibrations changed. Different machinations – things Skye couldn't even understand – shifted, clicked, and fired themselves up. An uncertain feeling took root in her stomach, but she didn't know what was going on for sure until the boat suddenly jerked forward. That was about the same time Sam and Dean started to realize something was wrong.

"Dafaq?" Dean questioned, looking to Sam. "Do you know what that was?" The younger Winchester shook his head, much to his brother's disappointment.

"Oh, there you are!" All three hunters turned to see Hannah – who seemingly appeared out of nowhere – lazily approaching them. "Yeah, I've been looking for you. The captain wanted me to let you know that we're going to be departing ten minutes early."

Skye felt her muscles stiffen and her previously red-hot blood run cold. If she unintentionally shook something, she hoped it would be chalked up to normal boat movements.

"What?" Dean was the one to say that. Skye was too shocked to speak.

"Yeah," Hannah confirmed, her bored tone unwavering. "So, you better get off the boat now before you're stuck here."

"You're kidding, right?" The sound of the ship's horn blaring told them all that she was not. "Does that mean the boat is leaving, or do we still have time?"

Frustratingly, Hannah just shrugged in response to Sam's question. Skye just couldn't take that as an answer. She surged forward past the stewardess, ignoring any protest Sam and Dean might have given. If Hannah wasn't going to be straight with them, she'd just have to find out for herself.

Using the old "stick to one wall to find your way out of the maze" trick, Skye found a way out to the main deck. There, she found dozens upon dozens of people gathered around the port-side railing, cheering and waving to those on land. That didn't bode well for her, but Skye wasn't going to give up hope until she saw it with her own eyes.

She pushed through the crowd, ignoring the protests of aggrieved passengers as she tried to reach the rail. Once she set her hands on it, Skye pulled herself forward to see over the edge. She was quickly let down.

"Crap."

Slowly but surely, the cruise ship was pulling away from the dock. The gangplank had already been left behind. There was no way on the boat, and no way off. They were trapped.

Skye pulled away from the rail and slunk back into the crowd. Despite being outside, she could already feel the walls closing in on her.

The disaster I based this story on was the sinking of the MTS Oceanos. It was a Greek cruise ship that sank off South Africa's Wild Coast in 1991. The captain and the ship's officers had abandoned ship before all the passengers had been evacuated and it was left to the ship's entertainment staff to conduct the rescue. Miraculously, all 581 people onboard survived. I first heard the story of the Oceanos in 2019 when I saw Bright Sun Films video about the disaster. Other YouTubers who have covered the disaster include Fascinating Horror and Dark Records and I highly recommend both of their videos as well. I've always been fascinated by the story and amazed by the heroics and bravery that the entertainment staff displayed that night. This is, by far, only a loose adaptation of the events with fictional characters and a pretty poor one at that. If you want to learn more about the events, I recommend you watch one of the above listed videos or visit the website established by guitarist Moss Hills, one of the heroes of that night.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter and will continue to enjoy the rest of this story. If you feel uncomfortable reading this because it's based on something that happened in real life, I completely understand. I only felt comfortable fictionalizing this because no one died in the actual event.

Remember kids, never let a Winchester buy your clothes for you.

Originally uploaded on 9/17/24.