Once Upon a Time in Mexico [Tag Greg]

[dannykeaton]

“There goes a perfectly good night.” Danny muttered to himself, wiping his hands on his jeans. He’d spent the past fifteen minutes or so blazing a trail through the last three of so cross-roads anywhere in the town of Colonia Vicente Guerrero. After locating dead center he’d dug a hole in each, only to come up empty. Every single time. According to the research he’d done beforehand, there wasn’t any more crossroads in the target area that could be considered plausible. Which meant…what?

The rash of children disappearances around this area, including an upsurge of unusual diseases were all centrally located around at least one cross-road. He’d been so sure, and ended up checking most of them under the assumption a practitioner was simply moving around their summoning kit and letting the damn thing loose. Danny hated cross-road demons. After he’d nearly got suckered into a deal of his own he’d harbored a good deal of animosity against them as a whole. And yet, it didn’t seem like they were to blame for anything. Beyond checking each cross-road, he also did a quick flash of psychometry at each spot. Only one had ever been used in such a way, and this was dating back a good couple millennia at least.

“Allí! Parar!” A voice cried out from behind him. Danny whipped around to see two Mexican police officers running in his direction. He took a quick look around to make sure they were even talking about him. No such luck. He wasn’t doing anything wrong. Well, except the passport that would get him in and out of this country would fold like a cheap card table under close scrutiny. Ah, damn it. He had some difficult to explain stuff with him that would have been useful if there had been a demon.

“Yo no soy culpable!” Danny shouted in a harried voice as he took off running in the opposite direction, essentially directly in contradiction to his own horrible Spanish from all the way back in high school. He didn’t look behind him as he ran through a town, pulling up the map from memory as he sprinted. His backpack was heavy with all kinds of junk, and he hadn’t been planning on doing any kind of running, and wasn’t really dressed for it. It was a good thing those cops had yelled at him from so far away, or this would be no contest. How far was he from his Eliminator? Two streets?

“Shi-!” Danny fell down a sudden, sloping down hill. Slightly frazzled, he struggled to his feet. If he wasn’t mistaken there was the sound of a siren not far away now. “I’m so screwed.”

[Wil Marsh]

Greg kneeled down in the center of the crossroads, as he'd done with three others in Colonia Vincente Guerrero. He'd been tracking a string of disappearances that seemed to fit the M.O. of a Crossroads Demon. Greg had never encountered one, but he knew they made deals with people, granting a wish in exchange for someone's soul. There were several disappearances in the area he'd linked to a possible Crossroads Demon, most of them children. That part was a bit odd. He didn't think those Crossroads types dealt with children.

You never know, I guess, he'd thought to himself.

Greg dug a few holes, expecting to find evidence that someone had summoned one of those Red-Eyed bastards. But, all he found was dirt. But, the dirt seemed too loose, like it had been dug up by someone else already.

Someone buried their shit, then dug it up again? he thought.

He didn't dwell on it the first time, but when he found the same thing at the second and third crossroads, he started to suspect something wasn't right.

As he dug in the center of this last crossroads, he found that it had also been dug up before he got there.

"Okay, this is just getting friggin' ridiculous," he muttered, filling in the hole hastily and standing up.

He brushed the dirt off his faded blue jeans. His white t-shirt was smeared with dirt, too, but he didn't bother too much with that. He raked a hand through his hair, which was getting a bit long. None of this was making any sense, which was frustrating.

Greg got into his Jeep and started driving. He wasn't really sure where he was going, but he wanted to drive around and clear his head. He could hear a siren somewhere and wondered vaguely where the cops were.

[dannykeaton]

Danny nearly hit a car. A jeep, to be precise. Now, normally you heard about people getting struck by cars. Danny had to be one of the rare individuals who, preoccupied by the ever increasing sound of sirens, actually managed to run full tilt into the side of a moving car. Granted, it wasn’t moving very fast, but he still felt like an idiot. That, and it sort of hurt. Now, Danny couldn’t see the future. He didn’t have any sort of second sight. That just wasn’t where his powers were based. Still, even vanilla ought to have enough foresight not to run out into a road (even in a tiny Mexican village like this where cars were exceedingly rare) while looking about for the local equivalent of a squad car.

It also presented, he supposed, an opportunity. Danny had made something of a thump, but on a dirt road like this it probably wouldn’t have meant anything to a person in a jeep practically going off-road with all the twists and potholes. Luckily they weren’t exactly flooring it, or the already tired and tense psychic would have been just as screwed as before he took an unexpected fall. It’d made his pants even more dirty, and they ripped slightly at the knees. Danny would have cursed if he had the breath to spare. Up ‘till then he’d managed to make sure it was only his shoes that got caked with the grime of this place, outside of sweat from digging like sixteen holes in the middle of crossroads in the middle of nowhere.

Scrambling after the vehicle, he managed to match pace with the driver’s side for just a few moments. Danny knew he had to talk fast, which was luckily something he was good at. “Hey, uh, man. Can I get a ride?” He waved his thumb hopefully like a hitchhiker might back in American proper upon seeing that the man was also an American. Of course, even in America, the only thing rarer than seeing a hitchhiker on the side of the road any longer was a hitchhiker running after a potential ride. Even at a quick glance, Danny knew if their positions were reversed he probably wouldn’t have given a person as dirty as himself a ride in his nice car. (if he owned one in the first place) Especially not when said person had a shovel hooked through his knapsack. The sirens, still slightly distant, also made for a rather incriminating tableau. “Please?”

He tried his best to look trustworthy, as his normal policy of trying to look adorable when he asked for favors typically only worked on the fairer sex.

[Wil Marsh]

Greg had to drive carefully on these roads. They weren't exactly designed for heavy traffic. It was a bumpy, jarring ride and he had to be careful not to mess up a tire, or an axyl.

The CD he'd been listening to began to skip maniacally due to all the jostling. He was about to eject it and drive in silence when something hit the side of his car. He jerked up in his seat and glanced out the window as he continued to roll and bump along, but he didn't see anything.

"What the hell was that?" he muttered.

Whatever it was, it hadn't hit him very hard, and he didn't see any blood anywhere. He assumed it was an animal or a bird.

And then, a moment later, he caught movement in the corner of his eye and glanced over at a guy jogging beside his car as he drove.

"Hey, uh, man. Can I get a ride?"

Greg kept glancing over as he continued rolling along.

"What the...? You're kidding me, right?"

He heard the sirens in the distance and put two and two together. Oh, that just fuckin' figures, he thought.

"Please?"

Greg studied the guy in brief glances. He looked really young, like a choir boy or something. He almost laughed. What could this kid possibly have done to have the cops chasing him through Mexico?

He was going to wave him off and keep driving until he saw the shovel. Greg had used a garden trowel he'd picked up for cheap at a hardware store. It was on the floor by the passenger seat somewhere. Maybe he wasn't the only one running around digging up crossroads.

Greg slowed to a stop and nodded to the passenger's seat. "Hop in," he said.

And the guy really could have hopped in if he wanted to, since the top of the car was off.

[dannykeaton]

“No!” Danny responded cheerfully upon being asked if he was joking. If only he was, this situation might be laughable. He could almost see the cogs turning in this guy’s head. Danny echoed himself silently as he ran, pleasepleaseplease. For a moment the guy seemed about ready to leave him to his fate, which was to say a flea-ridden cot in some backwater Mexican jail. Then he agreed. “What, really?” He said, so excited he twisted his ankle in a pothole and nearly fell.

Grasping the side of the jeep, however, he managed to jump into the backseat. Danny’s breathing was slightly labored by this point. Half the reason he had the Eliminator was so that he didn’t have to run away from things. Normally that was spirits, but mortal authorities were even worse. You couldn’t salt and burn their bones without feeling bad about it afterwards. “Thanks. Just…whew, thanks.” He said.

Danny suddenly dipped slightly lower into the seat as a cop car whizzed past. Man he hoped they didn’t touch his Eliminator. He really didn’t want to break it out of whatever passed for an impound lot around these parts. “S-sorry about the mess. I can get that for you.” Danny mumbled as a hasty apology. Besides being all dusty himself, the shovel was equally so.

“Hey, I’m Danny.” He said, leaning across the seat to offer the man his hand. He wanted to do a quick reading, just in case he’d actually chosen to jump into a car with Mexico’s answer to Hannibal. To anybody who didn’t know about psychics or the supernatural, the quick jump upon skin contact as he got an aura read on the guy would easily be passed off as some kind of static electricity. “What’s up?”

[Wil Marsh]

"Hey, uh, man. Can I get a ride?"
"What the...? You're kidding me, right?"
"No!" the quoir boy said, almost gleefully. And then, "Please?"
"Hop in," Greg had said.
"What, really?"

The guy tripped or something and Greg glanced over. "You alright, man?"

The quoir boy hopped into the front seat and Greg slowed the car to a near-stop as he did. Once his new passenger was securely in the car Greg sped up to what passed for a normal speed in these parts. He was still going too slow for his liking.

"Thanks," the guy said. "Just... whew, thanks."
"No problem," Greg replied. "Just don't get me arrested and we'll be good."

And then he glanced over and the kid was gone. Not gone, just no longer at Greg's eye-level, which he soon realized. He saw the cop car pass by, nodded casually to the driver in greeting. The car cleared them and kept going.

"S-sorry about the mess. I can get that for you."
"Don't worry about it, man," Greg said. "This car's seen a lot worse. Trust me."

Vomit, salt, blood, Greg thought. There was a whole laundry list of crap this car had been doused in that any normal guy would never have to make.

"Hey, I'm Danny." The quoir boy introduced himself and leaned across the seat, holding out his hand. Greg raised an eyebrow slightly before shaking it hastily as he drove. It was an awkward place for a handshake. The gesture combined with the fact that the kid was toting a shovel and covered and dirt had Greg thinking.

"Greg," he said.
"What's up?"
Greg laughed. "I'm driving the get-away car, apparently. Why are the cops chasing you, man?"

And why are you digging up crossroads all through this little town? Greg thought. But he'd lay off the big questions for the moment.

[dannykeaton]

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. Just need to avoid putting any weight on it for a little bit.” Danny said, grinning despite his ankle already throbbing. A quick session with his powers and he could probably heal up most of the damage. After that a bit of ice and he’d be walking like normal in no time. Hopefully no more running for a while, though.

“Shouldn’t be an issue, you’ve got an easy story to tell the police. You were just picking up a hitchhiker. A slightly more persistent than normal hitchhiker.” Danny couldn’t help but laugh at himself a little in retrospect. Chasing after cars like this was some kind of cheap action movie? That was definitely not his normal MO. He was lucky he didn’t get shot in addition to the ankle. What he should have done was leave any of the groundwork to the qualified people, the hunters.

“Alright, then.” Danny said, letting the dirt thing go. If it didn’t bother the guy, he didn’t see any reason to press the point.

“Cool. Good timing running into you, Greg. Not many people around here seem to speak the language. If I had to run and think back to high school Spanish at the same time, I’d probably have broken my leg and fallen in a ditch instead of just twisting my ankle a bit.”

The quick aura reading didn’t reveal anything unduly ominous. His colors were a bit heavily geared towards obsession, and there were a few other hues he didn’t recognize outright. Still, he didn’t see anything like the once or twice he’d inadvertently done this on a murderer and a career criminal.

Nothing worrying until a shiver that would only be visible if somebody had been looking closely ran through his body for a moment. He thought he’d caught a quick word, or a faint thought. It had felt vaguely like ‘crossroads,’ but maybe he was just being paranoid. He could be wrong, or the guy could be thinking directions. Damn, Danny wished he’d gone for the touch telepathy instead of the aura. Still, he couldn’t very well lay his hands on the guy again just to see.

“It's better than what I’ve got. These roads are killing my bike. I must have swallowed a mountain of dirt on the ride down here.” And then the fun ended when Greg asked the question Danny knew would come up eventually. How to handle this in a way that wouldn’t end with his limping along the side of the road thumbing for another ride?

“Cops? What cops?” Danny cringed afterward, as his voice had cracked before he even made it entirely through the bold-faced, incredibly stupid lie. He’d all but admitted it not two minutes prior. Clearly that wasn’t the right way to go about this.

“Okay, fine. I’m not entirely sure what they wanted. I just have some…stuff that would look very odd if I got arrested.” Fake passport. Supernatural texts in Latin. Copious amounts of rock salt. It would probably be the sawed off in his bag that would really sink him, though. Danny hated guns, and was a horrible shot, but frankly spirits were a little dangerous sometimes, and flinging rock salt as you hoped for the best was just no good.

He became unconsciously aware of his bag on the floor. Danny really hoped that Greg, who looked a good deal more bad ass than him, wouldn’t feel compelled to take it. In fact, he really hoped the man just assumed it was drugs or alcohol, bad as that sounded.

“I just had to do some, uh, excavation in the town for this side project of mine. If they were pissed about a permit or something, I don’t think they’d actually bring in the police like this.” Danny shrugged. Yeah, he had delivered that half-lie way better than the first, though it still sounded lame. “I didn’t even think they had police out here. Who knew?”

[Wil Marsh]

"Good timing running into you, Greg," Danny said. "Not many people around here seem to speak the language. If I had to run and think back to high school Spanish at the same time, I’d probably have broken my leg and fallen in a ditch instead of just twisting my ankle a bit."

Greg laughed. "I hear you. I don't speak Spanish at all, so you can imagine how fun it's been trying to talk to anybody around here."

The first thing Greg had done after arriving in Colonia Vincente Guerrero was try to get information from the locals. Had anyone gone missing recently? Had anyone experienced any sudden good fortune? But the most he'd gotten out of anyone was "No se," or "No habla". He figured out they both meant he wasn't getting any answers out of them.

Greg hadn't worried too much about the handshake. He figured there was something up with this kid, but he wasn't sure what just yet. He planned to keep talking to him until he found out.

"What's up?"
"I'm driving the get-away car, apparently."
"It's better than what I’ve got. These roads are killing my bike. I must have swallowed a mountain of dirt on the ride down here."
"Why are the cops chasing you, man?"

The kid tried to lie at first, but he seemed to notice it was obvious because he owned up quickly. He said he wasn't sure why they were after him, but he had some stuff that wouldn't look good.

"Hah. You and me both, man," Greg said. He realized that might've sounded a bit creepy, but he didn't think too much about it.

Danny said he was doing some kind of excavation project. Greg's brow furrowed, but he kept his gaze on the road as Danny said he didn't know they even had cops in the area.

"There are police everywhere," Greg said. "Excavation project? What are you digging up in these parts? It's not like there's a hell of a lot here."

Greg was fairly certain that, whoever this guy was, he'd be able to offer some information one way or another on these crossroads. He definitely knew more than he wanted to admit, and if he was a civilian trying to mess around with the supernatural he wasn't too bright.

[dannykeaton]

“Okay.” Danny said, drawing out the word slightly in response to hearing that Greg also had things the police would probably be interested in finding. Exactly how reliable was the aura read again? It wasn’t like he had to be overly worried or anything, though. So long as no vanilla humans sneaked up on him (no easy feat to do with a psychic in the first place) there were always options. All he needed was a second of direct contact with a person to put on a quick telepathic whammy. “Good to know, I guess. And, if you needed it, there’s your incentive to get us both out of here, otherwise I might just inadvertently drag you down with me.”

“Nothing, apparently. Can’t find a damn thing. And let me tell you, bro, you are not exaggerating. There is absolutely nothing. I looked under every rock, and unfortunately I’m being literal.” Danny said, toying with his seatbelt for a moment before deciding to put it on. He was more likely to go flying through the windshield than having to beat a quick escape out of the jeep.

“Unless I’m an idiot and I missed something.” He concluded, fishing around in his bag for a moment before pulling out a map. It probably wouldn’t mean anything to Greg. There was a large red circle surrounding the town and a couple miles of land, outside of which nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary. He’d put a single slash mark through every crossroads he’d found, and another going the opposite way, making an “X” after he checked them. There were no slashes left. Danny had put his limited Spanish skills to the test by looking up current crossroads, what might have once been a crossroads before roads were closed or disappeared, going back some years. “Unless I’m an idiot and I missed something and I have absolutely no idea what it is.” Danny amended slightly, folding the map before he stuck it in the cup holder.

It was very possible Danny was just too far out of his element. His specialty was spirits, and normally they were more than a little vengeful. Crossroad demon deals might have been personal to him, but it didn’t make him any sort of effort.

“I know you probably have no idea what I’m about to do, but I’d appreciate it if you don’t laugh when this blows up in my face.” He said, before adding hastily. “Not so literally this time.” He felt around in a side pouch for a moment, until he pulled a pencil sharpened at both ends and with a string tied around the middle. Danny retrieved the map, before letting the pencil dangle over it.

Now he was no good at this, and he’d be the first to admit. Danny had once tried to divine the location of an evil vengeful spirit in Chicago and the pencil had been worn down to an inch long stub within thirty seconds for all the scribbling it did. He just didn’t have the focus. Out here in the country he hoped to have some more luck, though the bumpy road made it slightly more problematic.

“Come on, come on.” Danny murmured, as it twitched back and forth on the string. He tried to focus on this thing as hard as possible. Whether it was working or not beyond the natural vibrations of the car was anybody’s guess, however. When the pencil suddenly took a swan dive, pulling at the string, towards the map the guessing ended. “Whoa.” Danny said as it made a furious, dark splotch in a perfect circle that should have been impossible with the lack of a hard surface.

He squinted closer at the map. “Uh, dude, there’s a small hospital near the edge of this town. It’s only like two, three stories. I saw it yesterday. Kind of squat, ugly? It’s a left, and then two rights. Five minutes away, maybe. Could you take me there?” The pencil jerked, yanking Danny’s finger painfully as it punctured the spot on the map. “Yowch, there is some crazy stuff going down.”

[Wil Marsh]

Danny was clearly a little put off when Greg said he also had things that wouldn't look good if he got arrested.

"For both our sakes, you better hope you don't drag me down with you," Greg replied. It wasn't a threat so much as a statement of fact. Greg wouldn't take to kindly to being arrested because he'd given this kid a ride, but it also may not look good for Danny being associated with him. He had a bit of a track record.

Danny agreed that there was nothing in this town, unless he missed something. He pulled out a map and unfolded it across his lap. Greg glanced over quickly, and then looked again when he saw the X's. After looking closely at them, easing off the gas a bit more as he drove, he saw that they marked every crossroads he'd been to.

Son of a bitch! Greg almost said the thought allowed. This kid had been a step ahead of him all damn day, digging up crossroads. Why would he be doing that?

"I know you probably have no idea what I’m about to do, but I’d appreciate it if you don’t laugh when this blows up in my face."

Greg looked up at Danny. "Wait, what?"

Danny pulled out a pencil on a string. It was sharpened on both ends. Making sure to keep the wheel steady, Greg kept looking over to see what the quoir boy was doing. He dangled the pencil over the map and stared at it. This was similar to something Greg had seen a friend of his do - a psychic friend.

"Oh, Christ," Greg muttered. "What the hell are you looking for?"

The pencil made a mark. Danny started telling Greg about a hospital, giving him directions and asking if he could drop him off there. Greg jerked the wheel suddenly to pull over to the side of the road and slammed on the brakes, yanking the shifter into park.

"Okay, listen, boyscout," he began, turning to him. "You know what I've been doing all day? Digging. What'd you call it - excavating? Well, that's what I've been doing too. I've been driving around this town all fuckin' day digging up crossroads because I'm trying to track a demon. You know about demons, don't you Danny?" Greg wasn't angry, but he was irritated and he'd run out of patience before Danny even got into the car. "Funny thing was, every crossroads I found had already been dug up by someone else, and there was nothing there. I agreed to give you a ride because I saw that shovel you're dragging around and figured you were the guy who's been a step ahead of me all day. Now, either you know something I don't, or you're a psychic trying to do a hunter's job. I don't really care which one of those applies to you, but I do wanna know what the fuck it is you think you're going to find at that hospital, and why I should give enough of a shit to help you."

Greg hadn't exactly yelled at the guy, but his tone certainly hadn't been friendly. He gave him a hard stare, waiting for a reply. And he wasn't about to take this kid anywhere until he got one.

[dannykeaton]

“Some sort of bad mojo.” Danny replied. “Thing is, this usually doesn’t work so well. Or this precisely, for that matter. Which means bad mojo found, I guess.”

He stopped focusing, and the pencil quit its jerky little spasms all over the map. Danny slipped it, string and all into a pocket.

“You’re stopping.” Danny noted. “That doesn’t seem conducive to getting to Point B.” It seemed Greg had something to say, so Danny just fiddled with the map in his own antsy little way while he listened. He actually found it kind of interesting, to the point where Greg’s message sort of got lost in translation.

“Cool, you’re a hunter?” Danny tried, and failed, to sound entirely honored, like he’d just bumped into an actor in the line at Blockbuster or something. Wow, he’d shook hands with a hunter. Awesome! His over-the-top attitude was a bit sobered by Greg’s next words, however. Nothing could bring him down to Earth like remembering the events that had taken his sister away from him.

“Yeah, I know demons, Greg.” He said quietly. As Danny went on he sounded chastised, if not like a kid whose parade was just rained all over by the other person in this car. “But that’s why I had to come here. I was just tracking it, not anything else. I don’t do exorcisms. I thought…it might sound stupid, but I thought I could talk anybody out of making the same dumb deal I nearly made.” Wow, he’d never actually admitted that to another person, let alone a hunter, before.

“I am a psychic, obviously, and you know I’ve also been trying to track this thing. Come on man, that thing could be there right now racking up a neat little gaggle of deals. Those people are hurt, weak, and probably not even entirely lucid, we’ve got to do something. And by we, I mainly mean you. Like, 75 percent you.” Danny said, hoping to diffuse his helping slightly. “If you aren’t going to help I’ll just walk from here. Or hobble, as the case may be. You know as far as supernatural creeps go these guys are bad news. And the express lane going way down under is going to be packed with these innocent people, which ought to be a good enough reason for anybody to pitch in. I don’t know you personally, but I think I can tell enough from a guy’s aura to safely say you won’t just walk away from this.” He regained a little bit of his grin. “Now apparently I can find this thing, and I imagine you know how to send it back to hell, doesn’t this just scream ‘team-up’?”

He paused for a moment, before remarking dryly on their sitting alongside the road while, well, evil was afoot. “And, for the record, don’t let anybody tell you that you have anything other than a great sense of timing, chief.”

[Wil Marsh]

"What the hell are you looking for?" Greg had asked.

"Some sort of bad mojo. Thing is, this usually doesn't work so well. Or this precisely, for that matter. Which means bad mojo found, I guess."

As Greg pulled over, Danny's comment didn't go unnoticed. But the time for witty banter had passed. Now it was time to move into the big questions.

When Greg began his little speech, Danny seemed almost giddy to learn he was a hunter. Normally, Greg would've found it amusing, but he just wasn't in the mood. Danny seemed quite deflated when Greg mentioned demons. Apparently this guy was no stranger to those bastards. Danny explained he was trying to track the demon and that was all. He thought maybe he could talk someone out of making a deal. Greg shook his head.

"If shit like this could be avoided by talking, I wouldn't have to drive around with holy water, knives, and rock salt in the back of my car," he said.

Danny said he was a psychic and that he'd been tracking the same thing as Greg. "Come on man, that thing could be there right now racking up a neat little gaggle of deals. Those people are hurt, weak, and probably not even entirely lucid, we’ve got to do something."

Greg raised an eyebrow. "We?"

"And by we, I mainly mean you. Like, 75 percent you."

Of course, Greg thought. Danny said if Greg didn't drive him to the hospital, he'd walk - on a bum ankle no less. A demon would have a field day with all those weak and wounded souls at the hospital. Greg knew that before Danny reminded him. Apparently the kid had done some kind of reading on him. He should have known the guy was a psychic when he pulled the handshake card, but he'd been too busy wondering why he'd been digging up crossroads.

"Now apparently I can find this thing, and I imagine you know how to send it back to hell," Danny said. "Doesn't that just scream 'team up'?"

Greg sighed at the phrase 'team up'. Teaming up with people on jobs in the past hadn't worked out so well for Greg. Hell, teaming up with anyone... ever didn't seem to work out for him. When he was hunting, actually going toe-to-toe with something that was trying its hardest to tear him limb from limb, he tended to stop paying attention to anything else... including people he was trying to protect. He couldn't very well help anyone if he was dead, could he?

"And, for the record, don't let anybody tell you that you have anything other than a great sense of timing, chief."

"Listen, Danny. I get what you're trying to do, and I'd be happy to send this thing back to the Deep South. But I don't really work well with others. It's nothing personal, but I'm not going to be able to keep an eye on you and deal with this thing at the same time. So, unless you're, like, insanely good at keeping your ass alive, tagging along probably isn't a good idea."

Greg had no way of knowing what Danny's skill level was in the combat area of things. He may have been a psychic with some nifty abilities, but could he handle himself in a fight if Greg couldn't jump in to rescue him right away? Because, given the bad mojo they were about to face, chances were Greg would have to work extra hard just to keep his own ass alive, let alone someone else's.

[dannykeaton]

“I-It could work. You don’t know that.” Danny tried to defend his actions for a moment longer. Then, it seemed, he accepted the truth, deflating as he did. “They wouldn’t listen. Not to me. Probably not to you. Demons know just who to pick for their deals.” He looked lost for a moment, before admitting it out loud. “You were right.”

“Do you want me to promise to stay out in the car? I will, but you should know in advance since I’m a horrible liar anyway that I’ll be right behind you. Besides, you need me and my double-sided pencil. What if this thing is good at hiding itself? Do you have enough holy water to splash every person inside? Unless you got a priest to bless a two-gallon jug of the stuff.” Danny placed two fingers on his temple in the classic psychic stereotype. “Somebody who can yell ‘Greg, duck!’ before the bullet exits the chamber.”

And he also wanted a demonstration, evidently. “Fine, fine. Fair enough, I guess. But if I do this, you’re going to be replacing it. Please hold your applause to the end.” Reaching down into his ever-helpful bag, Danny pulled out the sawed off. He quickly ejected the two rock salt rounds already inside, before holding it up for Greg to see. With some applied tactile telekinesis, his much increased strength allowed him to pretzel the thing with minimal effort. “I could probably bench press the jeep with a little effort if you’re really not convinced. Dude, you should wonder why I’m letting you take the lead at all. When I’m using TT it’s hard to even hurt me.”

And so long as he was showing off, Danny reached into the back of the car. It didn’t take long for him to find a small knife under the seat in this veritable weapon stash. “Cute knife. You must have ridiculously small ankles if this is the largest thing you can conceal.” Pulling it out of the sheath, he quickly drew the blade down the long side of his forearm before Greg got any bright ideas to stop him. His tolerance for pain non-withstanding, Danny only had a slight intake of breath at the pressure. The pain was similar to a killer paper cut, but he’d done this trick enough before that he wasn’t very phased. It was a shallow cut, and so only a small amount of blood had started to move when Danny pressed the tips of two fingers to the top of the cut and drew it towards the bottom. Nothing flashy happened, as a psychic’s powers were generally more subtle. Following his touch, the skin re-knit itself until clearly all that remained was a streak of blood. Best yet, it wouldn’t even scar.

“Even if you die, I’m totally going to live through this. Hey, I can do it to other people too, so you might also live. Awesome, I know.” He made a half-effort to wipe his blood off the knife with his sleeve, before dropping it in the cup-holder alongside the map. “Is that enough? Do I need to juggle some boulders or something? I can cut myself some more if that’ll convince you. Would it be possible, do you think, to get this show on the road?”

[Wil Marsh]

Apparently it was Danny's turn to get on the soap box and make a speech. He said he could promise to stay in the car, but he'd tag along anyway. He pointed out that the demon could be good at hiding himself, and Greg couldn't conceivably just douse everyone he met with holy water.

"Alright. You made your point," Greg said.

But, Danny hadn't made his point yet, since he pulled a sawed-off shotgun out of his bag. He muttered something about Greg replacing it right before he ejected the salt-rounds and bent the thing into a pretzel.

"What the- what are you, Superman? How the hell did you do that?"

"I could probably bench press the jeep with a little effort if you’re really not convinced."

"No, that's okay. I think I get it."

"Dude, you should wonder why I’m letting you take the lead at all. When I’m using TT it’s hard to even hurt me.”

Greg didn't know what "TT" was, but he guessed it was a handy ability to have. Danny started rummaging around in Greg's back seat.

"What are you doing?"

Danny pulled his knife from behind the seat. "Woah, what are you gonna do with that?"

"Cute knife. You must have ridiculously small ankles if this is the largest thing you can conceal."

"Funny. Dude, if you pretzel Betsy, I swear..." Greg trailed off as Danny sliced his own arm with the knife. "What the hell, man?" Greg said, horrified. What kind of a psycho had he picked up? He watched as Danny seemed to rub the cut slowly from one end to the other. And then the cut was gone, the skin perfectly healed. He just stared at Danny as he assured him he'd live through this, even if Greg didn't. He said he could heal other people, too.

"Dude... do you have any idea how many hospital bills a power like that would save me?"

Greg jerked the shifter into Drive as Danny asked if they could get going.

"Where am I going again? Two rights and a left or something?"

[dannykeaton]

“Superman didn’t have TT, you’re thinking of Kon-El, Superboy.” Danny corrected, although he was slightly distracted as he double-checked the map. “Yeah, well you’d probably get more use out of it than me. I have a very fine-tuned sense of self-preservation. Two lefts, one right.” He clarified after a moment.

As they got underway, Danny continued to send out psychic feels. As they drew close to the hospital, he got a cold chill for his trouble. Danny frowned, before attempting to get a more careful read of the situation. The jeep pulled up outside of the hospital, and though it looked fairly normal from the outside Danny was getting six shades of supernatural evil from that place. As they entered the lobby, there was a Mexican woman in a nurse’s uniform slumped on the ground, saying something in rapid-Spanish as she held her crucifix. Danny crouched down to her level, before laying a hand on the woman’s cheek. The thoughts flowed quickly, and he shook for a moment under the deluge. “Third floor, fifth room on the right.” He told Greg. Danny placed two fingers on the woman’s forehead, and murmured “Go to sleep.” She did so with barely a sound.

They were at ground zero for this thing now. Danny wouldn’t need the pencil to find this thing, he could practically taste its presence, which helped along the growing suspicion he already had. Crossroads demons were nothing if not subtle. They didn’t walk around letting their power spill out. Danny stopped mid-step with a sharp intake of breath. He could actually see the thing now, stalking the upper floors. “Dude, I think we made a mistake. This is definitely not a demon.” He said, trying to get a better look at it. “I…I have absolutely no idea what this is. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Suddenly the…thing whipped its head around. It shrieked, attacking with a claw swipe. Who was it going after? Danny realized only a second before the claws struck him that it was going after him. Downstairs, three parallel claw marks slashed into his upper arm, causing him to gasp at the sudden pain. He cut the connection so quickly there was a dizzying burst of feed-back. Danny grabbed Greg’s shoulder until he regained his footing once more. “Psychic viewings can be a two-way street, Danny, you dumb-ass.” He muttered to himself.

“I hope you’re carrying all the basics for killing supernatural critters, because I’ve got absolutely no idea how to kill this thing. There’s the stairwell.” He pointed it out. “It feels kind of like a spirit, and I’d certainly call it vengeful, but I know spirits, and this is something unusual.”