Hello, I'm new at Fanfiction, and this is my first. Yes, it includes quite a few odd and freakish items throughout it. Please, reviews would be greatly loved. I need them, its like an addiction I haven't started smoking yet. Just the fact that someone read my story. Someone I don't know at all, someone who reads regularly. Odd honor. I do not own the characters, (except for the killer(s)) and the new character I'm introducing, Agent Chace Verble. I am an actor before a writer, and a screen writer (plays and movies) before an author, so I am a bit rusty around the edges. You will notice that most of what I write is surrounded in dialogue, because it is what I'm used to. And I secretly act out every scene out loud in front of my computer (don't tell anyone) The parts will be a bit slow coming, because I'm in a local play as, go figure, a psychopathic teenager, and I'm writing a murder mystery as well as a sci-fi war epic based on the movie Spartacus.
So, Enjoy my story!
You never play real games. You never play a game without an outcome. Everything you play is a trial and a lesson, so that you may win the next time.
Ryan Johnston Army Gen. Retired
Mr. Sophmo locked the door behind him, as he always did. Another long day, another very very long day. He was growing rather tired of the rude ungrateful high school students he had to teach. None of them appreciated just how hard it was for him to do this day after day. Coming into a classroom full of delinquents who have no respect for your authority or the subject you are teaching, especially when it is hard. So hard it almost makes one want to kill the little bastards. Most men would have by now. But Sophmo couldn't be a man. He had to be a teacher, for all the good that it would do. That wasn't very much when one got down to the core mathematics of it all.
The only person who had a worse if possible day at the high school would be the tall, lanky man in a business suit, waiting for Mr. Sophmo to finish locking up. The Mathematics teacher didn't notice the tall man until he had made it halfway down the hall. The sight of another human in the godforsaken school made the teacher freeze. Who could it be at this time? Everyone else is gone but me. Mr. Sophmo moved a tad closer towards the man. "Hello." He called out, short and to the point, "Who is it?"
"You get three guesses." The man said, the voice was unrecognizable.
Mr. Sophmo stepped back, had he heard wrong? "What?"
"Three guesses. Surely you of all people can count" The sarcasm was harsh, like a knife in Sophmo's side.
"What do you mean?" Sophmo asked, his voice became higher pitched.
"Maybe you are that stupid. I always thought so." The man stepped closer and closer to Sophmo, and continued his light walking until he was close enough for Sophmo to see.
"I'll give you a hint. I'm really hungry."
A cell phone rang, and vibrated annoyingly in Jason Gideon's pocket. It vibrated again, and a third time. The fourth woke Gideon from his deep dreamless sleep. He flipped it open and answered quickly. "This is Gideon."
"Hello, this is Reid." The familiar voice answered.
"It's three in the morning Reid."
"We've got a case."
"Why am I not surprised?'
"Why else would I call you at three in the morning?"
Gideon laughed and sat up. There was cold coffee in the pot. Better than nothing. He walked lazily over to it and poured himself a pot. "Who is it?"
"He is a High school teacher at a private school."
"Where is the school?"
"Oklahoma City." Reid answered.
"So it isn't the first murder?" Gideon made the assumption because FBI was only brought onto cases where the murders crossed the border, or it was related to the government in some way.
"Actually it is." Reid answered. "The teacher killed is the brother to Jack Sophmo, an Oklahoman Senator."
"I'm heading in now. What time does the flight leave?" Gideon asked, he was already pulling on less casual pants as he spoke to Reid with the phone nestled between his shoulder and ear.
Special Agent Derek Morgan watched the rest of the FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit closely. It had been their second case in only two weeks. It was taking a toll on all of them. Him included, of course, but he pushed that aside. Reid seemed to be taking it well enough; he never broke character, and never seemed to grow tired. Gideon was the best poker faced of all the team. Derek couldn't see into him one inch. Hotchner seemed hawk like as usual. Derek's own stare crossed Hotchner's, and they both smiled. Always the two watchmen watch their herd.
Two hours later the team was given a GMC Envoy and directions to the Private school just south of the large city. Actually, the city itself wasn't large, not in the sense of New York City or Washington DC, but it was a vast expanse, with little clusters of houses and businesses spread over nearly thirty miles. Land wise, Oklahoma City was the second largest in the nation. And that complicated things for the team. Gideon pointed this out.
"But the Oklahoman police department has good records on all offenders in the state." Hotchner replied.
"One fifth of the state's population is made up of illegal immigrants, do the local FBI stations have records on the illegal's?" Derek asked.
"Doesn't fit the profile." Gideon answered.
"We have a profile?" Agent Prentiss perked up.
"Not a conclusive one. We haven't received photos of the murder site yet. But generally cannibals are in their mid 40's to early fifties, white male, and have a sexual fantasy they are playing out on the victim as they eat them." Hotchner replied.
"Although," Reid added as he usually did, "Very few cannibalism cases end in the death of the victim."
"We're there." Gideon said, nodding towards a tall brick building as the GMC pulled to a smooth stop.
The Building looked almost like a church, with one towering steeple with a small round clock barely visible at the top, stained glass windows, and oddly miscalculated brick structure with a large amount of cement between misshapen rocks. Reid noticed this. "Is it a Catholic school?" He asked as he tilted his head up at the tower.
"No," Hotchner answered. "Private."
"Explains the Tower of Terror." Prentiss joked. No one laughed. Derek gave her a polite smile though, and that seemed to be enough. Prentiss smiled back and the group continued forward.
Five minutes later, after passing through the Crime Scene tape and going through the OKC detectives, the team was trudging up the tower. There was blood at the bottom of it, a large pool, it seemed like an entire bodies worth. The Agent in Charge, a young man named Chace Verble, explained that the body was hung from the top of the tower and gutted, the blood spilled, and parts of the cheek and thigh were missing.
Agent Prentiss' comment about the "Tower of Terror" was ironically accurate. The large swelled body of the math teacher shone a pale green in the blistering Oklahoma sun that seeped through small windows surrounding the top of the tower. The man had been hung by a fleshy wire. The man's intestines. Reid made a sound as he held back a gulp of disgust. Gideon tilted his head and leaned closer to the body. The young agent down the stairs had been correct. The victim's stomach had been opened and flapped emptily, and gave a hideous look into the hollow cavity that had held the stomach, liver, and most of the intestine. The body was almost laying back; the "rope" had been retied around the man's chest and neck. Thick pieces of flesh had been cut from the thighAgent Verble made his way up the stairs.
"Blood was completely drained. The parts missing from the body and internal organs weren't found.
"But how does this qualify as a case of cannibalism?" Reid asked.
"Excuse me?" The detective said as if he hadn't heard the question. He hadn't meant to sound rude, but it came across as a snobby comment.
"How do we know the UNSUB ate the pieces missing from the victim?" Reid rephrased his question.
"The UNSUB left a letter." Verble answered.
"A letter?"
"Yes."
Gideon gave Verble an intense stare. "Where is it?"
Hello Whomever is out to catch me. I'm sure you found the body of that insufferable math teacher Mr. Sophmo .I'm sorry to say I left him in rather a mess. Whoops. I know you have cleaning crews for that. You can handle that right? Also, put the team that cleans up his mess onto the task of cleaning up the vomit that will inevitably come up later. But I've heard CSI crews have strong stomachs. I'm not so certain about the local police. The math teacher tasted rather skewered. It took quite a bit of wine to wash the thigh down with .Merlo 98, red of course. My Personal favorite wine. I'm also sure that you will have a team of psychological experts analyze this letter all the way to the roots. Go ahead. CATCH ME IF YOU CAN.