Monday Morning-San Francisco, California

He loved to walk back through the crime scenes he had created. Psychopaths usually tried to insert themselves into the investigation of their crimes, Red John was no exception. It was always about control, making those idiots that called themselves police do what he wanted them to. He was a control freak, and damn proud of it. He was in total control from the moment he entered his victims house, from the minute he ended the women's lives, and beyond. It was all so obvious to him. But then again, he was the man with all the answers, the man who had no equal.

Oh, Patrick Jane wished himself his equal, he wanted to be as smart as Red John. He prayed for it every night and every day. The fake psychic had always fancied himself an equal to Red John, but in truth, he wasn't even in the same zip code. No one was. Lisbon and her team were incompetent at best, even with Jane, they were only a decent team. Oh sure, they had the highest closure and solve rate in the CBI, but they were the only major case unit. Everyone else ran investigations into gang and mafia violence. Much lower solve rates, but every single one had a higher conviction rate. For every three murderers that Patrick Jane caught, one point two of them received a reduced sentence.

And that was unacceptable to Red John. He lived for punishment, lived for order. Every kill was a punishment, every brutalized woman a consequence to a wrong. There were no 'innocent victims' as the media liked to portray them. They all had skeletons, people just weren't digging deep enough.

Getting to walk through his crime scenes was a privilege that not many others got to experience. Most had to settle for taunting the police, Red John actually got to direct the investigation in a bit more personal way. He had interviewed the witness that had discovered his handiwork in every case he had created. It was better than any trophy he could have taken from the bodies he left behind.

He thanked the now traumatized husband and walked inside the house he had visited just over ten hours ago. Theresa Lisbon was ordering Wayne Rigsby around in her usual manner, Grace Van Pelt and Kimball Cho were dusting for fingerprints on the kitchen table, not that they'd find any. It was refreshing to see the lemmings doing as he wanted. No one paid him any attention. If only they had known. The man they had been hunting for seemingly forever, the monster that gave them nightmares, was in the room with them!

As Red John walked into the living room he found his favorite plaything. No matter how many times he did it, playing with Patrick Jane never grew old. The fraud never even suspected that the man who had butchered his wife and daughter was in the same room with him. Not even in the slightest. The dirty blond was currently walking around, looking at the mantle place, trying to determine if the murder weapon, a beautiful African statuette, had come from the marble fixture. But right now, Patrick Jane wasn't even registering on Red John's radar. There was something else that was dominating his vision. It was just sitting there, right in plain sight, right were he had picked up the carved wooden murder weapon. Patrick obviously hadn't gotten around to looking at it, because as idiotic as he was, even he couldn't miss this.

At first glance it made him want to laugh. A greeting card? That was all? He definitely hadn't left or touched or even envisioned a greeting card, so what was so interesting about a damn Hallmark card? It was a cheap pink card with a golden glittery 'Missing You' scrawled on the front. Donning rubber gloves, Red John edged past his toy and picked up the folded card stock and opened it up.

The inside was blank, at least as far as a preprinted message went, but someone had filled it in. Someone, whatever inconsiderate bastard had dared to ruin his perfect crime scene, had written in black ink and nearly perfect penmanship a short message.

Alex-Been thinking about you lately, have really missed our chats. I know it's short notice, but maybe this'll convince you to come back out west.

Hope the family is well,

KC

As if this intrusion into a perfectly happy memory for Red John wasn't bad enough, this KC had even gone as far as to bastardize his the trademark smiley face. Drawing a winking smiley face in blood on the left inside of the card with the victims blood, just like he would have done.

By now, Patrick had noticed and began to read over the card, while it was still in Red John's hands. Somehow, Jane's silence had drawn Lisbon into the room as well. By the time he had shaken himself out of his current funk, Red John simply handed the card to her and walked outside. The house was contaminated, there could be no joy taken from walking back into the bedroom at this point. As he ducked back under the crime scene tape that crossed over the front door he could just make out Jane's query.

"I thought her name was Pamela?


From his position in his driveway across the street, Kyle Craig, known with hatred and fear in Maryland and Virginia as the Mastermind, watched the circus go on across the street. The CBI was out in force, fat load of good it would do, they'd never caught Red John and wouldn't this time. They wouldn't even have half a clue, if he hadn't gone back into the house and left that little note.

It had been so long since he had been around someone like Red John. He had to go all the way back to his college days when he went hunting with William Rudolph and Nick Ruskin. But it had been years since the deaths of the Gentleman Caller and Casanova and Kyle had long since outgrown the need to be around others like him. They were all too stupid and Red John was no better than the others he had caught when he was with the FBI. Hell, Mr. Smith, amateur that he was, proved more interesting than Red John. So, why had Kyle provoked him? Red John was nothing more than a means to an end. He was the bait that would lure Alex Cross out of Washington DC and allow Kyle to kill the man known as the dragon slayer.

He saw Red John, the man he knew to be the 'Most Vicious Murderer in California History' as the papers called him. There was no risk of exposing himself, so he walked over, just as Red John was about to get into his car.

"Pardon me." He asked, making his target stop, one foot inside his car.

"No comment." Was the reply.

"I'm sorry, I live across the street and I just got home, what's going on?" He asked, grabbing the driver's door forcing a response.

"I'm afraid their's been a murder here, Mister..."

"Nate Johnson."

"Well, Mr. Johnson, I'm afraid I can't comment on an active investigation, but don't worry, the best investigative team the CBI has is on the case, they'll catch the monster that did this."

"Oh, you're with the CBI? I hadn't realized it was that serious. They didn't seem like a couple to be involved in that kind of business."

"What kind of business would that be?" Red John got back out of the SUV and looked 'Mr. Johnson' right in the face.

"Drug smuggling of course. If the CBI is involved it's probably related to Organized Crime, right?"

"Well, you don't need to worry, there aren't any links between organized crime and your neighbors. I'm afraid they're simply victims of a random act of violence."

"Oh, well, thank you, that's a load of my mind." Kyle extended his hand and shook hands with his guinea pig. "Thank you a lot...um I afraid I don't know your name."

"Virgil Minelli."

"Well thank you very much."


Kyle waited until he was sure Minelli would be in his office before he called him using the number he had gotten through the DOJ. As a nice little tribute he even used the phone line of Red John's victim, Pamela Cleary.

"Minelli."

"Mr. Minelli, you don't know me, but suffice it to say that I know everything about you."

"Who is this? And how did you get this number?" There wasn't a hint of fear in Virgil's voice, Kyle was thankful for that. To think that someone like Red John could be frightened with such a weak threat would destroy what little respect he had for the man.

"Suffice it to say, that you are not the only one who can use the DOJ database to fulfill their own needs. My name is Kyle Craig."

"The so called Mastermind."

"I see my reputation precedes me, but don't think that means anything, Red John. The game has just started."

"What game?" He didn't deny it! Red John might just prove to be interesting yet.

"It's simple, do you see you're 'lead agent' right now? Do ya'... Virgil?"

Taking a look up, Minelli looked across the hallway into Theresa Lisbon's office and saw her typing her report on his crime scene.

"Yeah, so?"

"Right now, as I speak and you watch, she's typing her report for the day, which you already knew, but she doesn't know what she's about to do. The moment she finishes that report and inputs it into any database, there are certain computer programs that will latch onto a couple key phrases she's using. Things that will let the FBI know I'm in California."

"You want the FBI to come out here? You're dumber than I had heard."

"Don't flatter yourself. You're the only one who is in any danger of being caught, Red, I'm untouchable."

"The FBI won't be able to catch me, you had your time, I'm the biggest and baddest thing in the state." Minelli fired back.

Kyle Craig just laughed into the receiver.

"Oh, I don't know, you're good, but so are the Feds, but they're not the point. When they fail to catch me, they'll bring out Alex Cross. And he's the one you've got to watch out for. He is better than you, far better."

"NO ONE is better than me!" Minelli hissed back, all the venom he could muster, evident in his voice. "Not you, not this Cross. I'll find you and then we'll see whose better than who."

"Oh Virgil...so much to learn. If, if you can survive Alex Cross, which I doubt very much, then I'll set up a meeting. Just the two of us, madman to madman."

Having thrown the gauntlet, Kyle hung up with a laugh. Like he had said, the game had indeed begun.


Wednesday Morning-CBI Headquarters, Sacramento, California

Patrick Jane sat at his desk with his eyes closed. In his mind, the details of every Red John case he had ever worked flashed through his consciousness. Things like body position, the coroner's reports from all the victims, even minutia like the location and types of shoes worn by the victims ran round and round his head. The first rule of pattern killers like Red John was to find what commonality the victims had.

And that happened to be the first problem with Red John. Outside of the fact that his victims were women (with the exception of Jared Renfrew), there just weren't similarities. Most were Caucasian and between 25 and 35, but out of the now fourteen victims, seven were white, four were Hispanic and of the last three one was African American, one was Japanese, and the other was Korean.

Having failed to find a commonality between victims, Patrick moved onto trying to find differences between the crimes. Red John didn't deviate much. He sneaks into the victims houses while they're alone, attacks them with a stun gun first, to incapacitate them. Restrains them in their own bedrooms and then beats them with some kind of object found in the house. This didn't kill the poor women, he then proceeded to take a knife, always the same one, and stab them multiple times in the body before he would go on and mutilate their genitals.

Red John never strayed from this pattern, except with Jared Renfrew and Patrick's wife and daughter. Those were the only two times. He painted Patrick's wife, Isabel's toe nails red, in her own blood, and the bastard had beaten Mellisa, his little girl, so extensively, that her beautiful face and hair were caked in so much blood that she was nearly unrecognizable.

Then there were the communications. Red John never taunted police, never sent them letters like the BTK killer or Jack the Ripper. Yet he left a note at the scene of Jane murders and at the crime scene of Jared Renfrew.

This last murder, of Pamela Cleary, was text book Red John, until the card was found. It was puzzling, how did a card for someone named Alex, get into Pamela and Jonathan Cleary's house? What was the significance to Red John? It had to be related, someone had left it there, but not even Patrick, with his uncanny ability to link just about anyone and anything, couldn't connect Pamela with someone named Alex, and it wasn't until the FBI had shown up and taken over the case, that the link between Alex and this KC had been found.

Kyle Craig was another serial killer along the same lines as Red John. According to the FBI, Kyle made Red John look like a child. Jane doubted it. There simply couldn't be anyone or anything more evil than Red John. It was simply not possible. None the less, this Alex Cross character, seemed interesting. A smart man, he had received his Doctorate in psychology from John Hopkins and had worked for Washington DC metro police and even the FBI for a while, catching some of the most violent and evil criminals to roam around Washington DC.

However, his few excursions out into California were less impressive to Patrick. The teenage vampires weren't all that impressive of a capture, and while Michael Bell, the man who had murdered celebrities to prove his worth, was very insane, he wasn't all that clever, nothing like Red John.

Whatever Patrick's feelings on Kyle Craig, Red John and Alex Cross, they didn't matter. The FBI had already said that they were bringing Cross in from Washington, even if he wasn't with them any more. He was the only person to ever catch Craig, and the note was addressed to him anyway.

Finally opening his eyes, Patrick watched as Lisbon came in and called the team into the morning briefing. Besides the four CBI agents, their consultant and boss, the FBI had brought in a team of six agents, and now Alex Cross sat with the case file from the most recent murder in his lap.

Patrick watched from the back of the room as the FBI liaison, Gregory Kim, cleared his throat for order. Kim was not very tall, and had eaten too much fast food earlier on in life. When they had first met, Van Pelt had elbowed Rigsby in the side and reminded him that this is what he'd look like in ten years...except with less hair.

"For the benefit of Dr Cross, I want everyone to introduce themselves, I know a couple of you might know of him, but you're all new faces." One by one everyone in the room went around and gave their names to the visiting psychologist. Once that boring ritual was complete, the floor was turned over to Dr. Cross, so that he could brief the CBI team to what Kyle Craig was capable of. It wasn't until he stood up that Patrick realized how imposing the detective actually was. Standing at six foot three and weighing about 235 pounds or so, Alex Cross made Rigsby seem a bit thin and frail. His hair was beginning to gray a bit and there were some wrinkles forming in his black skin, but despite the signs of his age, Cross demanded respect.

"The first thing that everyone needs to know about Kyle Craig is that he knows exactly what we're going to do. He was as Special Agent and knows the FBI play book by heart. He's operated in California before, albeit briefly, but he does know his way around the state." He paused as if choosing his words for a minute.

"Kyle fits the profile of what is termed an 'omnivore'. Unlike Red John, who hunts almost exclusively women, Kyle will kill anyone so long as he is able to prove that he is smarter than us. While Red John doesn't usually leave communications, Kyle will. We'll know exactly who he's murdered and they will be far, farworse than anything that you've seen before."

"Bullshit!" Patrick coughed. For an outsider to come in and arbitrarily say that Kyle Craig was worse than Red John was an insult in the consultant's mind. While the interruption received a reproachful glare from Lisbon, Cross seemed to have ignored it and continued on.

"Kyle is capable, though unlikely, to be working with an accomplice, he's done it before, as a student at Duke University, Kyle ran with two other killers, William Rudolph and Nick Ruskin. Some of you should know about Rudolph, he operated out of LA by the name 'The Gentleman Caller'." A few eyes showed recognition, though many didn't seem to know about the narcissist who terrorized women in the city of angels many years ago.

"Kyle is highly intelligent, his IQ is above 175 and likely pushing 200 if not above that. He is capable of erasing any traces of himself forensically as well as electronically. He is physically strong and can disguise himself well enough to blend into any crowd he wishes."

Cross paused to consider his thoughts for a second and Patrick Jane had to open his mouth.

"If Craig is so good, then how come he was caught?" For a moment, Cross' eyes met Jane's, and they just stared at each other.

"It's true, I captured Kyle Craig before. Its true that he's gone to jail. Some of you may even know that I physically knocked him out...twice, but most of that was deception and luck. Not so much the punching out part, but had I not tricked him into a conference call with my home answering machine. Without that tape, despite all of my profiling and my certainty that he was the Mastermind, he would have walked. He has murdered dozens of people, maybe even as many as a hundred or more. He's convinced people to rob banks and murder for him. He's raped women, he's destroyed families and had it not been for the five dollar tape in my answering machine, he would have walked free."

Remembering the details of chasing Kyle Craig around Virginia and Maryland had brought back unpleasant memories for the Doctor/Detective, Jane could tell. But nightmares and ghost stories of murderers past wouldn't change Patrick's mind. Red John was more evil than anyone, and no amount of psycho-babel would change his mind.

"I think Jane brings up a valid point." Rigsby voiced. "How can you be so sure that this Kyle Craig character is going to be more violent than Red John? I mean, crime scene photos only convey so much." There was a murmuring of general consent. Even Doctor Cross agreed with that statement, there was only so much that could be taken and inferred from photographs.

"It's because of the card and because of who Kyle is. No doubt he knew that by leaving the card, eventually it would get back to the FBI, and then they would have to come out here. Kyle thinks he is smarter than we are, he thinks he is smarter than everyone. So when The CBI focused on Red John, and all the papers began to proclaim him the most vicious killer in California, that must have struck a nerve. But, being Kyle, he couldn't just murder someone and leap frog his way back to the top of the list. So he piggy backs Red John, uses one mad man's crimes to put himself back in the forefront of our minds. He's using Red John, just like he's using the CBI, FBI, like he's using me. He's going to try and prove that he's smarter than all of us, and the only way to do that, is to become more notorious than Red John. Prove we've been focusing on the wrong guy."

Cross stopped talking just as a young Hispanic woman walked through the door. She was dressed in the uniform of DHL, and had a small package under her arm. Though it was wrapped in butcher paper, it seemed to be about the size of a shoe box and didn't weigh a lot. She stopped when she realized that she didn't know exactly who to deliver her parcel to.

"Um, is there a Dr. Cross here?"

The visiting doctor raised his hand and within seconds had signed for the package and thanked the delivery woman. As soon as she was out the door, Cross had carefully began to unwrap the package. Sure enough the waxy paper gave way to reveal a box for Nike size twelve and a half shoes. Everyone seemed to hold their breath as Cross opened. When they wasn't an explosion, everyone crowded forward wanting to see inside.

Unsurprisingly there wasn't a pair of Air Jordan's, but instead there was a clutter of different things. A hallmark card, just like the one that had been at the crime scene, a Rubik's cube and a small six ounce bag of Columbian coffee. Underneath those, were coupons for various restaurants that were within spitting distance of the CBI building.

Jane had immediately reached into the box and taken out the toy, turning it over in his hands, feeling the smooth plastic. It reminded him of his childhood. The puzzle toy was his favorite plaything as a small boy, and it had led him down his path to becoming a mentalist. He had memorized every combination of moves, every imperfection and knick on his toy. This toy was much too new to be his beloved toy, but it was used and had been sitting in the sunlight for some time, judging by the washed colors on three of the sides.

Looking at the others, Jane noticed Dr. Cross handling the card as if it might catch fire. Gregory Kim had opened the unground coffee and was inhaling the smell like it was cocaine. The first thought that flitted through Jane's already racing mind, was that Red John was breaking pattern. That he was taunting the joint task force and asserting his dominance. But when he looked back at the toy in his hands it became very clear that Red John wasn't responsible. While the greeting card and the coffee were brand new, the toy was old, and that made it an outlier. Kyle could have easily purchased a brand new toy and sent it, but instead, he sent an old toy.

Turning it over and staring at the colorful stickers, Jane deduced that it could be solved in four more moves, so why had it sat unfinished for long enough to become light damaged? Somehow, that knowledge began to tug at a memory in Jane's subconscious. It was slow to come to the surface, but like a shark attack, it erupted through the waters of his mind in a blur of motion and teeth. He dropped the toy to the ground immediately.

It was Mellisa's. It was his little girls puzzle. After the murders that had shaken Jane to his core, he hadn't changed a thing in his house. Everything stood as it had on that day, his impressive house, a once happy place, full of life, had become a hermetically sealed time capsule that he dared not touch until Red John was dead. Kyle Craig had not only gone into his house, he actually defiled it, removing his beloved daughter's toy. It hadn't been her favorite, but Jane loved to see her play with it, just as he had done in his youth.

For only the second time in his impressive memory, Jane's mind just shut down. A complete and sudden halt to every function he had conscious control over. Van Pelt placed a hand on his shoulder, asking if he was okay, and he just stood there. Didn't answer, didn't brush her off in his usual way. It wasn't until Lisbon walked over and showed the same concern for her consultant, that Jane awoke.

He couldn't speak and he refused to sit down when Kimball Cho pushed a chair behind him and attempted to take his knees out from under him. Instead, he walked out of the briefing room and headed to the nearest bathroom. On his way out, he knew that Cross would continue his speech. Continue to explain how Kyle Craig was more a threat to the public than Red John. Jane knew that was a lie.

Kyle Craig had dared intrude into Patrick's mind, to try and toy with him! Kyle wanted to be bigger than Red John, but Patrick Jane decided right then and there, that he wouldn't let him. Jane would catch Kyle Craig long before the Mastermind could re-establish himself.


Just as he had thought, when he stepped out out of the bathroom, having splashed his face with water, like so many cliched movies, he found Lisbon waiting, arms crossed and a worried look on her face and the seemingly forgotten toy in her hands. She held it out to him, not expecting him to just grab it and take a step back to the briefing room.

"Jane-"

He cut her off with his usual smile. "I'm okay, it was just a shock, that's all." He walked away before she could respond or ask any questions.

Lisbon could only watch as the back of his expensive suit disappeared back into the briefing room. A frown spread over her face. She worried about Jane every time a Red John case came up. How would he handle it, being faced with the man who had ruined his life? Until now, he had been doing remarkably well...for Jane anyway. Lisbon was with Jane in her belief that Red John was the more serious threat, but now she was forced to concede that Cross had a point. Craig was smart, Craig was dangerous, and he knew how to pull people's strings.

By the time she had taken her seat once more, everyone in the room had recovered from Jane's little outburst and the Doctor/Detective was ready to continue his briefing.

"Like I was saying, Kyle is out to prove that he is bigger and badder than Red John. To do that, he's going to beat Red John at his own game. This is probably the most frightening scenario we could find ourselves in. Not only are there two very dangerous killers on the loose, but they're going to be in direct competition with each other. In the short term, there is going to be an increase in activities from both Kyle and Red John."

That was a frightening thought indeed. Normally Red John went months between victims, to see that window shortened, not to mention that there would be a second killer out there...all of their recourses would be stretched thin until there was a resolution.

"Shit." Minelli swore. "The public is gonna go into a panic, especially the women. Two violent sex offenders? This will be a PR nightmare." There was a murmur of agreement from the room.

"Actually, it's much worse than that." Alex Cross once more became the center of attention. "While Red John's crimes have all the signs of a sexually based crime, there are inconstancies with that theory." No one dared to question Cross on that point. Mostly because they couldn't speak. Red John's crimes, not sexual? He murdered only women, brutalized women to the point of pulp, and they weren't sexual?

"By in large, sex crimes aren't about sex. Rape isn't about sex, but the feeling of control that the rapist gets from dominating his victim. In those cases, the rapist will leave the victim alive, to relish in that feeling of superiority. When the victim is found dead, it is a sign that the rape or sex was either spontaneous, a by product of the murder, or merely convenient. With Red John, the victims are not only murdered, but in a horribly violent way. When he's done, he doesn't touch the body again, and often, the victims are either unconscious or unable to move due to the stun gun or the beating." While most of the room was following along, there were a few, mostly on the CBI side of the room, that were very skeptical.

"Red John doesn't just target the women, but the men. All the victims had either a husband, fiancée or live in boyfriend. He leaves the bloody calling card so that when someone walks into the room, that is the first thing they see, they know exactly what to expect and that is where Red John gets his sense of control. He enjoys the pain and suffering of the male as much as he does physically dominating the women, if not more. He is controlling to the point of destruction. He enjoys destroying 'happy' families, ruining the lives of those he leaves alive."

He took a moment to grab a legal pad from his seat and flip through his notes, seeing if he had forgotten anything.

"That's all I'm comfortable saying now, until I get some more information, anything else I have would be conjecture."

He sat down and George Kim took over again. Within ten minutes, The FBI were heading off to interview anyone with DHL that might have handled the package, and the CBI were off working on the Pamela Cleary case. Alex Cross didn't move from the briefing room, but accepted the complete case reports from the Red John murders. With Kyle Craig's photo being circulated on television and in print, there was nothing to do on that front until a valid tip came in, or he contacted them again. So he filled his time refining his profile of Red John. Kyle was using him to get to Alex, so it wasn't a waste of time, but it felt like he was just sitting on his hands.

Patrick Jane didn't take his eyes off the D.C. Cop. Cross had come in, off a five hour flight, and in twenty minutes shaken the Red John case to the ground. Patrick thought back to the murder of his family. Cross had verified Red John's note, Patrick really had brought this upon himself, acting as if he were a gift to mankind. Now the brutality made sense, he had wanted to ruin Patrick's life beyond measure, to be a puppet master to a Jane's soulless husk. The inconsistencies also became clear, and showed just how much about Patrick Red John knew.

Patrick was a loving father and caring husband, great words to put on his tombstone, but they were true. He was wrapped around his wife and daughter's fingers like the cheapest string. If they wanted ice cream, he couldn't deny them. Toys, or knives, or vacations, they had it. He was doting and loved nothing more than to sit with Mellisa in his arms and stroke her hair as she read or watched a movie. To marvel at her perfect face, at how beautiful she was. Red John had taken not only his daughter, but that memory away from him. By butchering his poor daughter's face, Jane couldn't bare to relive that feeling of bliss and happiness.

And Isabella! The first time he had met her, she had just come out of a nail salon and the only thing he could manage to do, was compliment her toenails, which she had just had painted. It became a ritual in their lives, and throughout the course of their marriage, he must have spent hundred of hours, just painting her toenails and giving her countless foot massages. And Red John had stolen that too. By painting her toes in her own blood, he claimed that part of Izzy too, not just her body, but her memory. He claimed every bit of the women that Red Jane loved, and it broke something inside him.

As Jane watched Alex Cross work, he began to revisit everything he remembered about Red John. He began to look for alternative motives in his head. Subconsciously he began to turn Mellisa's puzzle over and over as his mind worked. Over, and over and over....


Virgil Minelli walked back to his office with a light sweat forming under his immaculately tailored suit. Craig was right, Cross was good. All of the camouflage, all of the smoke he had laid to hide the real motives for his hobby were swept away in one thirty minute speech. He was still a bit rattled when his phone rang and instinctively he picked up the receiver.

"What?!" He snapped.

"Dan Stevenson, with the San Francisco Chronicle, do you have a moment to comment on-"

Minelli didn't let the yuppy reporter finish before he hung up. Kyle Craig dared to cross him, and there had to be repercussions...


(A/N: Once more, I do not have any degree or training in psychology. I began writing this, mostly because most of the readers out there, didn't like the twist in my other Mentalist story and no, I'm not saying what that is, you'll have to read it to find out (hint hint). This isn't going to be a one shot, but it's not going to be very long either, maybe 4 or 5 chapters or less.

Anyway, I hope you like this story and please review and let me know what you all think.)