A/N
Please read and review! This is a start of a completely new series A/U with the idea of The Reaper still injected in to the story. It goes without saying there will be character deaths and you may not like the results of certain mysteries I put forth. That just comes with the territory.
As always, please read and review. Thanks for viewing, too; I appreciate all of my viewers!
Criminal Minds
Dire Need
Chapter One
The blonde hair lady's blue eyes twinkle in the moonlight as she lies down on a beach towel in the middle of the yard; even though she resides well inland, she can still imagine herself lying on the beach - relaxed and forgetting all about life's burdens and tribulations.
For a moment she thought she may have heard someone bustling in the bushes nearby, but she turns around and confirms it's just a squirrel prancing along the grass. This goes on to deliver a peaceful reminder of how beautiful and serene nature can be at times.
"Such a relaxing night," she utters while continuing to marvel at the glory presented before her in the form of the serene sky.
The next few moments went by very fast: she remembers hearing a mixture of glass shattering and screams that seemed to of came from afar but seemed all to familiar as well.
The next thing she remembered clearly was being held captive in a black room with a creepy doll looking at her, shaking its head in a disapproving manner.
"You can't do this to our family," the woman by the name of Haley had objected, with resentment and corresponding fear glimmering in her eyes along with the subsequent worry that came with the price.
"Listen, Haley," Hotchner attempts to comfort her illy mistaken wife, but knows he's failed when Haley delivers a slap in the face.
"You can't stand by and let me give birth to my baby alone!" Haley screams, ringing the whole house with her fury, letting it known how angry she is. "I mean, really," She giggles. "What? Do you think you're the father of this baby?" She rubs her stomach.
Hotch wants to lunge himself at his wife, but knows it wouldn't be advisable to do so.
"You have to realize I have obligations just as you do; I make the money while you make the house! Wasn't that the deal?"
"That's what you wanted," Haley delivers her final verbal blow, then leaves the room, not letting her husband notice the tears rolling down her face at fast speeds.
Hotch contemplates what to do with himself. Should he let his relationship dissolve with this woman, or should he resign from the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI? It's a very hard design that would take him a long time to decide, but when he did it really did seal his fate and emotions.
Hotch answers his phone and looks at the clock; it's half past 8AM. He had been up half the night organizing and analyzing documents from past cases, wondering what feeling he had in the pit of his stomach.
"Hello?" Hotch answers.
All he hears is heavy breathing.
"Hello? You are speaking with Aaron Hotchner of the BAU, may I help you?"
"Yes. This is Mr. Foyet. I believe you and I have met before. I am just informing you that I am back for that half," he snickers before hanging up.
Hotch looks at his document.
It's right in front of him:George Foyet's file, with all the info! Now the question is: what to do with the information laid out in front of him?
JJ looks at the picture of her ex husband Will, and her now deceased son Henry. She wonders how a family like hers that had so much to hope for, could become so broken in such little time when Hotch knocks on her door requesting entry.
Emily exits her house and gets in her car to arrive at the BAU. She had a rough night crying when she had realized how much of a tough childhood she had had back in the day. She made a lot of enemies. A lot of people did not like her kind, well thought out, meaningful attitue. A lot of people wanted her dead, but those people are now dead themselves. She just hoped that while she was enrolled in the FBI she hadn't made any other enemies that would threaten her life.
Little did she know someone was both following her straight to Quantico with derived intentions.
"Everyone!" JJ announces, looking down at the bullpen. Within moments, Supervisory Special Agents Derek Morgan, Penelope Garcia, Kate Callahan, Alex Blake, David Rossi and Spencer Rei dlook up, curiosity amist in their eyes.
"Our Unit Chief," she gesures toward, Hotch, who twists uncomfortably in his standing position. "Has a regretful announcement to make."
Aaron clears his voice. "As you all may know, there was a recent spike of murders here in Quantico; just here in these last few days.. my wife was murdered," he gulps, drinking a glass of cider.
A number of the agents look discomforted by this news; a lot of them were present at the times of the murders. So many of them do not want to be reminded of it.
"I just want to make one thing very, very clear; this man, Mr. Foey, is a very intelligent, witty, wisened old guy, who does not make moves without calculation. Examine all murders on the East Coast. He could be hitting anywhere," Hotch adds, before leaving and entering his office.
He picks up his phone and attempts to call Agent Prentiss. She goes straight to voicemail. Little does he know what is happening to her.
Supervisory Special Agent Emily Prentiss arrives in front of the Behavioral Analysis Unit in Quantico, Virginia.
She feels as if someone was following her along the sidewalk so in an attempt to counter the unsub's violent and rebellious attempts at breaching FBI headquarters she swiftly turns around, withdraws her weapon and attempts to disbar the suspect's viability as a threat.
"Oh, it's just you," She laughs, turning around. "What are you doing here, George? Looking for a call girl?"
George's looks of glory turn to sadness right away. "I came here, for you," he utters, looking down at the sidewalk.
Emily hols George's hands, tapping it with her ring finger. "You can't be serious," she laughs. "What use do you have with me?"
Suddenly George Foyet hatches a plan. He smiles in response, a glimmer of blood showing on his teeth. "More than you know," he declares.
The FBI Behavioral Analysis Unit members are cleaning up after a communal dinner when each one hears the same scream coming from out front. "It sounds like Emily," Hotch declares, before ushering everyone out of the building; meanwhile, a blonde haired lady is shown entering the Behavioral Analysis Unit's Headquarters from the fire escape door in back. This lady withdraws her gun and shoots at the first person to cross her path; a thud is heard in response.
An unidentified lady's lips is seen speaking in to a phone. This lip is plastered with red. It looks to be fake but the movement of the lips suggest otherwise.
"Um, yea. Hello. This is Argon. I'd like to request a first class trip to Quantico, Virginia." She shakes her head. "In a private jet, please." She laughs. "There will be no needing that. He'll be very surprised to see me after all, now won't he?" Her question was clearly meant to be hypothetical. "Yes, thank you. Have a nice day."
When the lady hangs up the phone, the identity of the caller is revealed to be none other than...
A/N
Thank you for cooperating with me on my reprise in to fanfiction; I apologize if I made a bad impression at first. Have a nice day!