The entire state of Georgia heard of the ferocious murderers that took place on the night of Superbowl Sunday, and the entire state of Georgia quaked in fears as bodies dropped in the area, the actions leaving the FBI team investigating behind.
The entire state of Georgia heard of the kidnapping of one of the FBI agents, and their horror grew at the thought of, "If an FBI agent couldn't defend himself against this guy, then how can I?" The effect spiralling from Georgia was stunning, and it seemed as though in an instant every person in the country knew of the name Special Agent Dr. Spencer Reid, PhD. Too, the name of the perpetrator of the crimes spread as a Tobias Hankel. His picture circulated across the country.
At thirty years of age, Tobias Hankel was a weathered man. He had a long, sad face and a rounded jawline, his face covered in hair that was just a little too long to be referred to as stubble. Thick, arch less eyebrows rested above sad, dark eyes that seemed to stare not only into the camera but into the soul. Auburn in colouration, his hair curled at the ends and hung over his forehead in a casual, boyish cut that most would fine inappropriate for his age.
With the image was a small blurb on the man. "Hankel is armed and labeled as extremely dangerous. If you spot Hankel, please call the local police department as calmly as you can. Hankel suffers from severe dissociative identity order and due to this we cannot predict his actions. We request that anyone with information on the whereabouts of either Hankel or Agent Reid contact the police department immediately."
Similarly hanging at thirty-one years old, Harper Hillman was a lovely woman with silky black hair that hung down her back. The mother to a two year old son, it was no surprise that Harper did not receive news of the kidnapping until later in the aftermath, whilst watching to the news early one morning, little Jackson fast asleep upstairs. At first, Harper scoffed at the idea; an FBI agent being kidnapped. The idea was preposterous! If these were the people that protected her country, then surely they should have been able to protect themselves.
But when the picture came upon the large screen of her television, Harper could not restrain the sharp gasp of horror at the young man's image.
As it turned out, Dr. Spencer Reid was a young man of twenty-five sporting slightly long mahogany hair. Parted on the far left of his face, the hair hung across the other end of his face, leaving a large swath of his brow visible. The rest of his hair was trimmed shorter in an unconventional style that worked for the young man. His eyes were hazel or dark brown, and something seemed slightly off about them, as though the young man had been a little nervous when the picture was taken, or perhaps surprised. There were no particularly distinguishing features about Dr. Reid, but Harper recognized him instantly.
She recognized him in the way he seemed to flinch away from the camera and likened it to the smallest boy in her graduating class, whose shy demeanor prevented him from making any friends. Whose sharp wit and bright mind prevented him from having a healthy social life, and made him the perfect candidate for bullies.
What else did one expect, when a small twelve year old smarter than everyone else in the class was placed in with seniors? Not even the kindest of souls were immune to jealousy.
The incident that stuck out most in her mind would have been that taking place a few weeks before their graduation. Little Spencer, Penny as they had called him, hadn't appeared at school for a few days after. There had been no explanation given, and no one bothered to check on the tiny senior.
At the time, the prank had seemed like a good idea. It would put Penny in his place, and hopefully shut him up so they could have a relaxing last few weeks of high school. They hoped that, if Penny started avoiding them even more than normal, they could go at least a few days without hearing any random or pointless facts.
"Actually, going to bed early makes a person more likely to have a fulfilling relationship in life. On the other hand, people who wake up later are, statistically, smarter than people who don't," she could recall him stating at some point previous to the prank. Their teacher had been lecturing about how they all needed to be getting at least ten hours of sleep. Which was ridiculous. Harper had looked it up; anywhere between seven and nine hours of sleep was just right. As an afterthought, Penny had added, "Once a person gets their needed amount of sleep, sleeping more just makes them more tired. To a certain extent, of course."
The teachers were almost as fed up with Penny as the students were, Harper knew. Mrs. Robbin had let out a very long sigh and said, "That's nice dear," before going back to her lecture as though nothing had happened. Out of the corner of her eye, Harper took notice of Penny shrinking down in his chair, hunching over the table and fiddling with his pen. Why he even had one, Harper didn't know. It wasn't like he needed to take notes or anything.
Little Penny, who'd been shy and sweet no matter what they did to him, had joined the FBI. Little Penny, who could hardly lift his book bag, had made it through the FBI training. Little Penny, who was small and kind and gentle above all else, had been kidnapped.
In an instant, it didn't matter to Harper who Penny had been in high school. It didn't matter that he annoyed her to no end, or that he always out shone her at everything. What mattered was that he had been a little boy, and she had been an adult.
Penny didn't deserve being kidnapped. He didn't deserve being tortured. He didn't deserve any of the horrid things that always seemed to happen to him.