Haunting ▹ Dean Winchester [2]

PART TWO ; twenty-two

twenty-two ; devoid of color

( "Courage is the only virtue you cannot fake." ) — Nassim Nicholas Taleb, Skin in the Game: The Hidden Asymmetries in Daily Life

lmao hey again

      The room reeked of death. Which, because of the decomposing corpse residing motionlessly inside a sleek black cadaver pouch, made complete sense. Odessa scrunched her nose distastefully as she watched the coroner unzip the bag, revealing the colorless corpse. The smell only intensified. "Agents, meet Frank O'Brien." He was a middle-aged man with pepper-like hair and the wrinkles on his face seemed to only begin to become prominent. "He died of a heart attack three days ago." The coroner's voice was impassive as he examined the corpse with jaded eyes.

      Sam hummed, dubious. "But O'Brien was forty-four years old, and, according to this, a marathon runner." The younger Winchester's voice was marked by uncertain doubt. Odessa didn't blame his doubtful propriety. She didn't think a well-known marathon runner whose daily consumption must've consisted of healthy foods and regularly checked his health would have contained an underlying health condition she didn't know the name would tragically die of a heart attack.

      The coroner shrugged tediously. "Everybody drops dead sooner or later. It's why I got job security."

      Dean spoke, "Yeah, but Frank kicked it here." He said, "Now, just yesterday, two perfectly healthy men bit it in Maumee. All heart attacks. You don't think that's strange?"

      The coroner's expression remained indifferent. "Sounds like Maumee's problem to me. Why's the FBI give a damn, anyway?"

      Odessa offered a charming smile. "We just want to see the results of Frank's autopsy." She said, with a pleasing tone.

      A confused look passed on the man's face. "What autopsy?" He asked.

      Odessa reached over to the small metallic table and grabbed a glossy scalpel, displaying the small surgical knife for him to see. "The one you're about to do." Her face was kind and gentle, but her voice shifted into something slightly more abrasive. He took the scalpel and understood her message. They all quickly changed into plain-white protective clothing with an ocean-blue apron on top. The coroner surgically slashed into the O'Brien's chest. He took notice of Sam's disgusted look.

      He glanced away from the corpse. "First dead body?" He asked, slightly amused. Dean explained this was definitely not their first encounter with a dead body. "Oh, good. Because these suckers can get pretty ripe." He shoved his hands into the open wound and there was a series of unpleasant sloshing sounds. "Hand me those rib cutters, would you?" Odessa happily complied and watched with enamored fascination as he snapped the bones with ease. Sam and Dean looked away.