This is a mini crossover. Only Morgan and Reid are present, but Hotch will be called, and we can't leave out Garcia. I'm working on this as a gift to my brother is leaving for college. He is into the mythology of several different ancient races, and I'm going to be using his favorite. I used the premise of a couple episodes of Meitantei Conan (Japanese anime - Cased Closed in America) for the clues and I hope that they will be mildly confusing but at the same time able to be solved. If you get the clues, please don't spoil with comments. Also it's set late season one, early season two. I'm not the best writer on here but I think that this story and my other, In My Own Little Corner, are really good. It does contain themes of BDSM and personal ownership, but all is consentual, well, to a point. I'm not much of a slash writer, but the implication of MxR are there. If you don't like male x male, please don't read. As with my other stories, ideas and comments are loved and appreciated. If you have an idea for the twist or turn, don't hesitate to send me a message.

He spread his wings wide as they arced from his back. It had been such a long time since he had stretched them. To feel the wind that allowed him to soar so freely was refreshing. It would end up costing him more than he ever cared to imagine.

He woke up from his dream with a migraine. "What? Where am I? Who am I?" asked the young black man as he looked around, putting a hand up to his bleeding temple. He looked down and saw that he was stripped of all his clothing–not that he could remember what he was wearing anyway. He noticed to sets of dangling objects in the middle of his chest.

The first read:

Simon, Jr, Derek M

228495686USN AB-

PROTESTANT - BAPTIST

Huh. Well, I'm either Simon Derek, or Derek Simon. I'm going with the latter, it sounds better. I'm Baptist and I'm in the Marines. One question down, one to go. He looked around and saw the sod walls lined with piping and a metal door attached to metal walls obviously put here to hold the door.

He took a look at the second tag with a bit of disgrace. It read: Derek Simon, property of William Hearts. If found, please return to–

*clank, clank*

The sound of the metal door opening startled the young Marine. Searching around quickly to protect himself, the young man found a piece of piping that was rusting on the ground and held it in both hands like a sword to protect himself.

"Mr. Simon, I have no intention of harming you. Do be so kind as to put down the piping, hmm?" called out the older, stockier black man in a deep, gruff voice that was evident of his smoking habit. The voice had an overtone of a French accent to it.

"What do you want with me? Where are my clothes?" yelled the Marine, still wielding the pipe.

The older man, in his late 40's, used the cane in his right hand to knock the piping out of the Marine's Hand. Demonstrating that the cane he kept was for looks, he knocked the Marine's breath right out of him with a firm palm strike to the xyphoid process of the sternum, knocking the Marine down to the ground. The older man then grabbed the neck of the Marine and threw him against the terra wall on the underground hoding pen. To the shock of the Marine, his body then lost all form of resistance: His neck went limp, his eyes opened wide–looking straight forward– and the rest of his body went limp with nary an ounce in it.

Why can't I fight? I'm a Marine, dammit! I shouldn't be intimidated like this. Fight, body, fight!

"Now, Mr. Simon, please do calm down. I do so hate strenuous activity. If you look at my two men across the room there, you will see that one has a pile of clothes. Follow him to the wash room, clean yourself up, and rejoin me in the den," the older man leaned into Derek's ear, still looking forward at the dirt wall. "Pouvez-vous faire cela, Chocolat?" asked the older man in French so soft that it was almost inaudible, even to Derek.

Upon hearing the question in French, Derek simply nodded. He was still in shock that he could be reduced to a pile of goo to the older man with a simple question. The older man released his neck. "Good choice. Javier, take our guest to the lavatory. It shouldn't take him more than an hour to be back downstairs, understand?"

"Yes, I think I can do that, sir," replied Derek as he looked towards the door.

…

"But Fritzy, we hardly get to spend time alone without work getting in the way!" complained Brenda as the waitress put the waffles in front of each of them.

"Yeah, and whose fault is that, huh?" Fritz said incredulously as he poured so much syrup on his waffles that they were practically swimming in the sticky goodness.

"Are you gonna have a little waffle with the syrup?" Brenda asked lightheartedly. "I know! I'm sorry, it's just something that someone says that always sets the ideas spinning… I promise that I will not talk about work this morni–"

*ring, ring*

"Well, at least it ain't my phone that's going off right now, Agent Howard." Brenda said with a playful tone in her voice.

"Agent Howard. Uh-huh. Uh-huh? Right. I'm on my way."

"Who was that?" Brenda asked concerned.

"That was a member of the BAU. Apparently, he has discovered another body."

Brenda's phone began to ring at that instant. Digging through that massive black bag, the ring stopped for about ten seconds before restarting.

"Hey, honey, I think you ought to get a smaller bag; it'd save you a lot of time looking for things in it," Fritz said as he walked out the door of the diner.

Brenda threw him a nasty, playful look as he left the diner and answered the phone. "Yes, Detective Tao?"

"Uh, Chief, you might want to get over here; we have another body."

"Really?" Brenda sighed. "This makes four bodies! We need to get ahead of this guy! Was there a note with this one? Alright, could you send Sergeant Gabriel over to Gabel's Diner, please? Thank you."

"Well, Chief, that's going to be a problem. He is, but the FBI are all over this one, since a, uh, Dr. Spencer Reid and a Derek Morgan, both of whom belong to the FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit, found the body."

"Well what near they doing near the body in the first place?"

"Well, for starters, the victim's leg was hanging out of the garbage can this time. I guess they've seen their fair of strange crimes."

"Alright, Detective Tao. Take statements from the two FBI agents and do it as pleasantly as possible, I don't want to insult them. Have Detective Provenza canvas the area for anyone who might have seen anything last night. Oh, and have Detective Sanchez go with him, in case there are any non-English speaking people in the area. Thank you so much." Brenda said in a polite tone as she was scrounging through her purse for some money to leave the waitress at the busy little diner.

"Alright, Chief, will do."

Derek Morgan and Spencer Reid–why are those names so familiar? Brenda thought as she waited for Sergeant Gabriel. Well, whomever they are, she was about to meet them–again maybe.

...

As she looked up from the seat, she heard a car honk its horn. Looking toward the driver, it was Sergeant Gabriel motioning for her to come.