It's Only a Paper Moon
Jun. 15th, 2009 09:46 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jimmyhkim21Title: It's Only a Paper Moon, Prologue
Warning: R-rated for language and violence
Summary: Dean and Sam head to Washington to tackle a case where a ghost is blamed for multiple deaths. However, once they discover what the entity is, they realize they have no way of stopping the tortured soul from continuing its murderous rampage. Becoming more and more desperate as the body count rises, the Winchesters delve into forgotten family history to discover a murderous tragedy that has yet to see the end.
Gig Harbor, WA
Joey noticed the slick BMW immediately as it was the only car in the parking lot. He scanned the adjacent building and quickly spotted the lighted corner office on the highest floor. Even though no one told him Joey knew whose office it was: Mr. Victor Holden, the man who fired his dad not seven hours ago. In spite of laying off four people today, the son of a bitch was still working. Joey had to give it to the guy; the spineless asshole had real dedication in making sure his people stayed miserable and frightened.
That was enough for Joey’s anger to take control. He took out a rubber mallet from his jacket pocket and grimly marched to the BMW. He systematically bashed in the back tail lights, taking delight at the sound of the glass tinkering onto the ground even as his conscience screamed at the teenager to stop.
Joey began walking to the front of the car when he spotted a security vehicle enter the parking lot.
Suddenly, his courage and anger vanished: Joey panicked and ran.
Not two minutes later Holden stepped out of the building. With tired and unsure steps, he trudged to his car and got in. His expensive briefcase was tossed into the backseat without a thought, as the CFO of Harbor Investments started up his car. Victor turned on his radio and tuned into NPR as he got on SR16, heading east towards Tacoma.
Man, I have got to move here, Victor thought as he approached the bridge. I can’t keep going back and forth like this.
But he knew he never would. The situation with Harbor was worrisome, and Victor didn’t want to buy some over-priced house overlooking a golf course while the company he dedicated his entire career to went under.
And there was the bridge. Or bridges. As much as Victor hated the daily grind of rush hour traffic, he had to admit driving on them at night was spectacular.
So damn beautiful. He then mentally winced when he remembered the names of the bridges.
The wise leaders of the city had the imagination to name the second bridge the Tacoma Narrows Eastbound Bridge, as opposed to the Tacoma Narrows Westbound Bridge.
If they are the ones who are burdened to shape the future of our children, we’re all going to hell. Forget terrorists or plagues, plain old stupidity will do just fine.
The NPR was suddenly interrupted by tinny music. Victor frowned as an old tune came on.
I’ll be seeing you in all the old familiar places…
Victor couldn’t help but smile. He remembered his parents dancing to that song every single anniversary until his mother passed away. He didn’t bother to switch to another radio station. The bridges were famous for screwing up reception, and NPR would return as soon as he was on the other side.
He was almost dead center of the bridge when something caught his attention, forcing him to slow down drastically.
Someone dressed in light clothing was on the pedestrian walkway. Since it was past midnight his anxiety skyrocketed. And his personal alarm wasn’t wrong: the stranger, now identifiable as a man, climbed onto the railing.
“Oh shit!” Victor slammed on the brakes and put on the emergency lights, not realizing they were all broken, and climbed out of his car.
“Hey buddy!” he screamed as he patted down his pockets for his cell. “Don’t do it!”
The car’s headlights revealed the jumper's youthful and lean visage.
Victor’s heart plummeted. Oh my God, he looks like Johnny.
The thought that it might be his son was enough for Victor’s adrenaline to really kick in. He sprinted towards the figure but was too late. The young man paid no attention to him as he looked out towards the Sound. With one small but confident step, he disappeared into the night.
Victor knew better than to look in the water. Instead, he ran back into his car and hunted down his cell. He found it in the briefcase.
“This is Victor Holden. I’m on the Eastbound Bridge. I just saw a kid jump!”
The sixteen-wheeler crested the highest part of the bridge slowly, as it was lugging full capacity. The driver, not seeing any lights, didn’t slow down, so it wasn’t until he was almost on top of the BMW that he noticed it. The truck slammed into the parked car, cannoning it to the cement divider. Since Victor wasn’t strapped in, he was ejected from his seat. He died the moment his head smashed through the front windshield.
I'll be looking at the moon but I'll be seeing you.
The song ended and NPR came back on, the commentator noting the political activities of the White House earlier in the day.
Part I
Author's Notes:
This is not my Big Bang story. However, I've been hammering it out alongside BB since I've been thinking about this case fic long before Three Grams came along. And it's nowhere as long so it should be done before BB is posted.
Hopefully.
Maybe?
Warning: R-rated for language and violence
Summary: Dean and Sam head to Washington to tackle a case where a ghost is blamed for multiple deaths. However, once they discover what the entity is, they realize they have no way of stopping the tortured soul from continuing its murderous rampage. Becoming more and more desperate as the body count rises, the Winchesters delve into forgotten family history to discover a murderous tragedy that has yet to see the end.
Gig Harbor, WA
Joey noticed the slick BMW immediately as it was the only car in the parking lot. He scanned the adjacent building and quickly spotted the lighted corner office on the highest floor. Even though no one told him Joey knew whose office it was: Mr. Victor Holden, the man who fired his dad not seven hours ago. In spite of laying off four people today, the son of a bitch was still working. Joey had to give it to the guy; the spineless asshole had real dedication in making sure his people stayed miserable and frightened.
That was enough for Joey’s anger to take control. He took out a rubber mallet from his jacket pocket and grimly marched to the BMW. He systematically bashed in the back tail lights, taking delight at the sound of the glass tinkering onto the ground even as his conscience screamed at the teenager to stop.
Joey began walking to the front of the car when he spotted a security vehicle enter the parking lot.
Suddenly, his courage and anger vanished: Joey panicked and ran.
Not two minutes later Holden stepped out of the building. With tired and unsure steps, he trudged to his car and got in. His expensive briefcase was tossed into the backseat without a thought, as the CFO of Harbor Investments started up his car. Victor turned on his radio and tuned into NPR as he got on SR16, heading east towards Tacoma.
Man, I have got to move here, Victor thought as he approached the bridge. I can’t keep going back and forth like this.
But he knew he never would. The situation with Harbor was worrisome, and Victor didn’t want to buy some over-priced house overlooking a golf course while the company he dedicated his entire career to went under.
And there was the bridge. Or bridges. As much as Victor hated the daily grind of rush hour traffic, he had to admit driving on them at night was spectacular.
So damn beautiful. He then mentally winced when he remembered the names of the bridges.
The wise leaders of the city had the imagination to name the second bridge the Tacoma Narrows Eastbound Bridge, as opposed to the Tacoma Narrows Westbound Bridge.
If they are the ones who are burdened to shape the future of our children, we’re all going to hell. Forget terrorists or plagues, plain old stupidity will do just fine.
The NPR was suddenly interrupted by tinny music. Victor frowned as an old tune came on.
I’ll be seeing you in all the old familiar places…
Victor couldn’t help but smile. He remembered his parents dancing to that song every single anniversary until his mother passed away. He didn’t bother to switch to another radio station. The bridges were famous for screwing up reception, and NPR would return as soon as he was on the other side.
He was almost dead center of the bridge when something caught his attention, forcing him to slow down drastically.
Someone dressed in light clothing was on the pedestrian walkway. Since it was past midnight his anxiety skyrocketed. And his personal alarm wasn’t wrong: the stranger, now identifiable as a man, climbed onto the railing.
“Oh shit!” Victor slammed on the brakes and put on the emergency lights, not realizing they were all broken, and climbed out of his car.
“Hey buddy!” he screamed as he patted down his pockets for his cell. “Don’t do it!”
The car’s headlights revealed the jumper's youthful and lean visage.
Victor’s heart plummeted. Oh my God, he looks like Johnny.
The thought that it might be his son was enough for Victor’s adrenaline to really kick in. He sprinted towards the figure but was too late. The young man paid no attention to him as he looked out towards the Sound. With one small but confident step, he disappeared into the night.
Victor knew better than to look in the water. Instead, he ran back into his car and hunted down his cell. He found it in the briefcase.
“This is Victor Holden. I’m on the Eastbound Bridge. I just saw a kid jump!”
The sixteen-wheeler crested the highest part of the bridge slowly, as it was lugging full capacity. The driver, not seeing any lights, didn’t slow down, so it wasn’t until he was almost on top of the BMW that he noticed it. The truck slammed into the parked car, cannoning it to the cement divider. Since Victor wasn’t strapped in, he was ejected from his seat. He died the moment his head smashed through the front windshield.
I'll be looking at the moon but I'll be seeing you.
The song ended and NPR came back on, the commentator noting the political activities of the White House earlier in the day.
Part I
Author's Notes:
This is not my Big Bang story. However, I've been hammering it out alongside BB since I've been thinking about this case fic long before Three Grams came along. And it's nowhere as long so it should be done before BB is posted.
Hopefully.
Maybe?
