Wednesday Evening - Jackson Hole, Wyoming

Dean leaned back against the Impala, as he tried to shake off the exhaustion from the fight. The dzoavits had been a tough bastard—strong, relentless, and a whole lot of ugly. But it was dead now, reduced to a pile of bloody mess somewhere deep in the Jackson Hole area.

He dug out his flask out of his jacket pocket, taking a long swig. He was about to take another when he heard a noise—a faint, mechanical whirring that set him on edge. Dean's hand instinctively went to his sidearm, but before he could even pull it, he saw it: the clockwork droid, striding out of the darkness like something out of a nightmare.

( Son of a bitch! )

[NFB. Open for calls, texts, blah, blah, blah]