Linwood was awake for hours thinking about The Dream.  He had finally managed to find proof that his sister was still alive.  The thoughts of what he should do next plagued him.  He replayed the dream over and over again in his mind.  How would he find her again?  How would he battle a demon dragon?  Did he even have a chance against a creature that terribly powerful?  Just as he drifted into the first stages of sleep, a pounding on the thin motel door dismissed his hopes of any rest.<br/><br/>Two voices demanded something back, what they wanted?  He didn’t know.  Their goomba accents and a reference to someone with the title of Don pointed towards them being mafia.  ‘Who the fuck is Flowers?’ he asked himself.  ‘Break my legs!?’ Linwood didn’t like that option, not at all.  “You got the wrong guy, I ain’t Flowers.” He shouted at the door.  He shoved the dresser over to brace against the door, buying himself some precious time if the goons decided to bust in.  He then scrambled to get his pants and boots on, shoved the remainder of his loose belongings into his backpack, and fled to the bathroom.  The bathroom window was about shoulder height and too small for him to squeeze through.  Damnit!  If he could get to his truck, and grab his trusty shotgun behind the seat… Hell, he would be grateful for a tire iron at this point.  Spying the only thing that could possibly work as a weapon, an old nasty shit stained plunger, he grabbed it and left the bathroom.<br/><br/>Linwood returned to the main room and scanned for any potential weapons.  There was a lamp, a shitty TV, and nothing else.  It was then that he noticed a connecting door to the next room.  He opened it to find another door.  He tried the knob, it was locked.  He kicked the door open and with plunger still in hand, he fled to the adjacent room, closing his room’s door behind him.  The plan was to make a run for his truck once the mobsters broke into his room.<br/>