Note: Summer is actually an OC for the Supernatural fics I write. I just figured to use her for Criminal Minds too instead of creating a whole new character from scratch. I'm lazy that way.

CM: Phantasmagoria

When you were young and your heart was an open book, you used to say live and let live.

But in this ever changing world in which we live in makes you give in and cry.

Say live and let die.

~ The Beatles

– – – –

Morgan watched as Hotch looked out the window with a frown. He knew his boss was trying to hide his increasing impatience. It was one of those days when the job sent them elsewhere and they get back by the skin of their teeth to make it just in time for some event like New Year's eve or Christmas or Thanksgiving. This time it was Halloween, October 31, 2010, and everyone knew that Hotch planned to take his son trick or treating.

Yeah, I get you man, Morgan thought, Slowest. Landing. Ever.

Not that he wanted any candy. No, he didn't even like Halloween. What Derek Morgan wanted was some time to unwind, maybe hit a few bars for drinks and have some fun. He wanted to do something completely unrelated.

"Guys, it will be fun!" he heard Reid say.

"Sorry, kiddo. After what we saw in Detroit, I don't want to see anything with smoke and mirrors or fire," Rossi apologized.

"Emily?" Morgan grinned hearing the hope laced inquiry from their youngest profiler.

"Reid, I'm just not in the mood of being spooked out. Haven't you had your fill of weird this last few days?"

"But this is different. The phantasmagoria-" Reid started but was quickly cut off by Prentiss.

"We know Reid. Old. French. Physics magic," Prentiss summarized quickly

Morgan almost felt sorry when he saw Reid's expression fall and tried to hide his disappointment by putting on his mask. The kid lay down his cards and by the groans of Rossi and Prentiss, it seemed that the he won again. He might be the smartest person in the room, but sometimes... Sometimes Morgan could swear that Reid was still a child.

The plane touched down. Finally, he thought.

Unsurprisingly, Hotch was the first one out the door. "See you all on tomorrow morning," he said quickly before moving away from the group.

"Wow, that was fast," Prentiss commented.

"He has to be. Trick or treating started half an hour ago," Morgan replied. "So, I'm going for a drink. Anyone want to come?" he invited, gamely.

"I'm in," Prentiss answered with a tired sigh. "Actually, I've been thinking of getting a drink since we left Michigan," she admitted.

"I need to head home first but..." Rossi said tentatively, eying the youngest with a bit of concern but he gave Morgan a small nod. No need for Reid to think everyone ditched him for alcohol.

"How about you, youngster?" Morgan asked the kid who was trailing behind them. When he didn't get an answer, he turned in concern, letting Rossi and Prentiss go ahead. Much to his surprise, Reid had taken the mask he's been wearing off. He was standing in the middle of the tarmac fiddling with his phone. A wide grin started to grow on his face. "Reid," he called out, louder this time.

The kid lifted his gaze. "Oh, sorry. What did you say?"

"Some of us are going for drinks. You coming?"

Reid's face crinkled, slightly confused. "Morgan, I told you. I'm going to the phantasmagoria," he said, slipping his phone back into his coat pocket.

Morgan placed an arm around him. "Kid, let me tell you something. Tickets come in pairs. You can't go to a show alone," he stated. It was a fact. Going alone, even just to the movies, seemed a bit sad.

"Why not?" Reid replied, curiosity settling in.

"Because, man. It's just not right," Morgan answered. "So you coming with us or what, pretty boy?" He ruffled the boy's hair fondly.

Another rumpled expression. "Morgan, I'm going to the phantasmagoria," he repeated, a small smile lighting his features.

Morgan paused. "Kid, noone's going with you," he pointed out.

He could have sworn Reid snorted derisively. "Says who?" he replied grinning. Morgan watched as Spencer Reid rushed off almost just as fast as Hotch did just minutes ago. With nothing more than a- "Happy Halloween folks!", the young profile disappeared, leaving the rest of the team amused and confused at the same time.

– – - – - -

"That was amazing," A person in full V costume said, sort of skipping beside him in a very un-V like manner. "The last time I saw a show like that was in the Tate. I think that was 2006... Wow, that's quite a time ago," V mused as they walked out the installation and into the autumn streets.

Reid was awestruck. "You... What? You saw the original Fuselli's The Nightmare and you never told me?"

"What do you mean I never told you?" the person behind the mask replied. "I told you. I had to help out a curator friend one weekend in London remember? I even got you a small box of slides." His friend stopped walking, head tilting to one side. "You never went through the slides?" a small disappointed voice asked.

"Of course I did!" Reid exclaimed in his defense. And it was true. He loved the slides that showed the gothic pictures made from that century. He even bought a small slide projector just for that purpose. "You know I did. You've seen my projector."

The V turned around and started walking backwards. "Just checking, Slim," came the playful answer.

Spencer Reid pressed his lips together and furrowed his brow when he heard a snicker. Sometimes, times like these for example, he was sure she was crazy. "Summer, can you take the Guy Fawkes mask off? I can't tell if your kidding," he requested.

Much to his surprise, all she did was stop walking. Which prompted him to stop walking. She grew quiet, looking past him. Or at least he thought she was looking past him. He can't really tell with that mask on. Either way, a quiet Summer Wind McKenzie usually was enough to cause some kind of worry. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"Stay where you are. Don't look back," she instructed seriously. "People have been following us," she answered quietly. "They're coming closer. Tall African American guy with a shaved head and facial hair. A rainbow of a red head lady. A guy with glasses with a Hawaiian shirt. A professor looking guy, black hair, thick eyebrows. And a brunette lady that kinda reminds me of the original Wonder Woman," she described, with concern.

Tall African American guy with a shaved head... A rainbow..., he repeated to himself. He sighed wryly, figuring what was happening here. He turned around, much to Summer's dismay.

"What are you doing? I just told you not to move," she hissed, tugging his coat from behind, as he waved at them.

He reached for the gloved hand that was tugging his sleeve and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "Settle down, Sum. Put the plastic dagger away," he said calmly. She took her hand off his person immediately. There was a reluctant movement under her big black cape as she followed his second instruction. He could see the concerned blue eyes behind the mask and he smiled. If there were people threatening them, he knew for a fact that she would do a better job holding them at bay, with or without the toy daggers. He's seen first hand that her father was adamant with teaching her all types of self defense and he knew she kept it up. She could probably take Morgan, he thought amused as the quintet neared.

"You know those people?" she whispered.

"Very well. We work together," he answered. But she didn't relax her stance nor tear her eyes away from the approaching group so he gave her hand a small squeeze as the Garcia eagerly waved back. "Hi guys," Reid greeted. "What are you doing here? I thought you didn't want to see the show."

"We didn't," Rossi replied slowly, eying his friend with great interest. "We came to see if you were okay. You left in some kind of hurry awhile ago."

"Oh. That's because I didn't realize I was running late," he replied, honestly. Silence fell upon the group. He felt another small tug on his sleeve. Summer tilted her head ever so slightly as if to say, Can we go now? Spencer understood, giving her a small smile and a nod. She was still on edge about the whole ordeal, therefore, not the most social of people. Being followed around was, admittedly, kind of creepy, even if it was just by people he knew. "So-"

"So Pretty Boy," Morgan said at the same time as he was going to excuse themselves, "Are you going to introduce us or not," he prompted. Garcia clapped her hands several times in delight. Emily and Kevin Lynch broke into amused grins. And Rossi just looked on, observant as usual.

"Um..." He gave the girl an apologetic shrug. There was nothing he can do here. He can't just walk away now. She gave him a shrug back, then very carefully, took off the hat, the wig and the mask she was wearing and held it on her left hand. "Guys, this is my friend, Summer Wind McKenzie," he introduced, quite satisfied that she shot out her hand gamely. "Sum, SSAs David Rossi, Derek Morgan, Emily Prentiss. Tech analyst Penelopy Garcia and her boyfriend, also a tech analyst, Kevin Lynch."

"Anybody told you spooks that stalking is a criminal offense," she said plainly as she shook their hand reluctantly.

"Spooks?" Emily prompted.

"As in slang for government agents," Summer replied. "For people who look for signs of the crazy in human behavior, you'd think you'd know better than to follow a us a block and half for no reason." Reid was sure he just saw Prentiss' jaw drop and Morgan's brow raise- both no doubt, surprised that she even noticed them from that point.

He sure didn't and he was the government agent.

"If you were all so worried, why not just say hi like normal people? Not skulk around thinking it's fun to scare folk during the few times in the year that it's possible to say that 'Superman robbed me' and it wouldn't sound so weird because people are in costume. I mean, really-?" she continued to chastise as evenly as she could, still obviously unsettled.

Reid knew that this was highly improbably, but he could have sworn the world just stopped.

"Oh, we didn't think..." Garcia started but wasn't able to finish. So instead, she nudged her boyfriend, who simply shrugged at her, not knowing what to do. Emily was still wide eyed, sharing the same expression of disbelief with Morgan.

Spencer Reid pressed his lips together to keep from laughing or showing any delight whatsoever. It wasn't working, so he setteld his gaze to his shoes instead. He didn't know which was funnier, their surprised faces when Summer took off her mask, their jaw dropping when they realized that he had a friend who happens to be a girl or the fact that she managed to put FBI agents in their places in one go.

He doesn't know if they noticed, but she just called them all unsubs.

This was one moment he definitely had to remember.

"Well?" Summer calmly demanded. "What do you have to say for yourselves?"

Reid cleared his throat, not to prompt them to do something but rather to keep from laughing out load. Rossi however, took this as a sign. "We... We're sorry if we scared you," he managed to apologize evenly. "It won't happen again."

"How about we buy you a drink as a peace offering. Our treat," Morgan quickly offered to appease. "I know a place not far from here."

"Slim?"

Reid quickly nodded in agreement. "I think that's a great idea. Lead the way," he said, letting the group get ahead of them. A senior supervisory agent who wrote best sellers and put more unsubs behind bars than the rest of them combined, being knocked down a notch by a girl who just turned twenty six year old two days ago. This is surreal, Reid thought, unable to keep from snickering any longer. He saw blue eyes raise to meet his gaze.

"Not funny, Spencer," Summer said, although her expression started to waver as well. "Ok," she aqcuieced, starting to smile. "Maybe a bit funny."

"A bit funny?" Reid finally shot back, grinning. "Summer, these people scare the worst humanity has to offer. And I think you just sent them back to third grade."

"They were being jerks. What was I suppose to do?" she replied. She held up the Guy Fawkes mask, her tone of voice coming back to her usual light manner. "I am V tonight, you know."

Spencer Reid chuckled, earning several looks of surprise from his colleagues ahead of them. "I'm so glad you're here, Summer," he said, almost shyly smiling down at her. She beamed at him in return, linking her free arm with his as they trailed behind his friends. "Although," he added, "You haven't told me why you're staying in the Ritz Carlton on 22nd street. It feels weird that you're in town but not sleeping on my couch."

"Dr. Kelly and them, man," she replied with a shrug. "He calls me up when I'm half dazed after a thirty hour shift last week. I accidentally mention that I might be able to switch vacation weeks to watch the Phantasmagoria. And therefore, I can also check on the new chest he unearthed a few months ago- which is what he called for actually. So he asks me for dates and I was too tired to argue and the next thing I knew, I had plane tickets and non refundable hotel vouchers in my inbox... Either he's trying to spoil me or keep tabs or both," she summarized.

"You can always just stay in my place anyway," he said.

"He already paid for it. I can't let money go to waste right?" She gave him another shrug. "Hey but at least we can hang out for a week. You know. When you're not too terribly busy with work."

Reid nodded and took in the cool autumn air deeply. "I'd like that."

Yup.

Best Halloween ever.

– - - - -

Five men.

Five was all he ever needed.

They were all cowering in fear in the corner. They were all going to do what he wanted. He made sure of that. It was actually the easy part. To think, they've done things that nobody could imagine and yet they sat there, silently begging for their lives. They counted the seconds until they were freed. Here were five men wanting so very much for this to be just a bad dream.

And it would be soon. Time was going so slow but he knew that the wait would make the conquest even sweeter.

He drank the wine from his cup, watching the well heeled people mill about and chit chat. Who is doing what? Whatever happened to what's his name? Where is that new god fangled gadget and how does it really work? This used to be his world. He used to enjoy it. But like wine that had been stored to long, dusty and forgetten, this world of fancy and glitter had turned to vinegar.

Puppets.

All of them are just puppets.

Soon the clock strikes twelve. Halloween will be but a memory. A new day comes and his plan would go into action. It will be glorious.

.

– – - - - -

"I don't want to do this."

"We have to, Trev," Jason Tam replied through his communicator. He very quietly locked the last exit of the Ritz Carlton ballroom with a chain and a lock. Whatever this was about, whatever he was grabbed for, he had to admit one thing- this guy had balls.

This was some birthday party he wanted them to crash. The Supreme Court Judge had some taste. Fine white linen and thin coloured silk fell from the ceiling, draping the walls and easily concealing the exits. The place was made to look like an Arabian tent. The crystal chandeliers were the only things lighting the room, an anchor point for more white cloth and silk. Crystal beads fell from the ceiling and embroidered pillows on each chair.

People went around in their finest tux and dresses, enjoying the Arabian Night brought to them by the host. But Jason knew these weren't just rich people. No, these are people with power. He's been here not two minutes and he's seen four senators, a few congressmen and a handful of high powered lawyers.

"We're good to go, boss." Another voice said quietly in his ear. "Thirty seconds until midnight."

"Count it down, Charger," he instructed.

"29, 28, 27..." Charger's deep voice echoed solemnly in his mind as the party's host started to give his speech. All he wanted was a quiet existence. " 10...9... 8..." God help us all, he thought as he placed a hand on the Minimi machine gun he was issued. "3...2...1..."

Five men pulled aside the curtains of white linen that blocked their path. A second of gunfire echoed inside the ballroom. People screamed as they instinctively ducked for cover. Jason Tam went straight for the now shell shocked host on the floor. "I'm sorry. Your birthday party is over," he said as he snatched the mic from his hands. "Ladies and gentlemen, I'm sorry for this interruption. You see my two colleagues there at the far end," he pointed to the two men at the back, on either corner, aiming their rifles at the crowd. "Make any sudden movements and they are going to open fire," he warned. "Now, two other colleagues to your left and right. Say hi boys," he pointed them out again. "They are going to take your celphones and wallets and whatever else of value you happen to have with you. Then you are going to sit on your assigned seats. And you are going to stay all quiet like ," he said giving the signal for the two to make their move.

He took care to strip the host of his belongings himself, then motioned for him to take his seat. Everything seemed to be going well. Minutes passed by. More guests were patted down briskly but thoroughly by the twins Silvia and Torres. Jason almost relaxed somewhat until an African American man in a three piece suit, shaved head and mustache tried to be a hero. When Silvia started to pat down his middle, the man grabbed a goblet from the table and brought both his arms down and hard, hitting Silvia squarely at the base of his skull with the base of the cup. Torres quickly blocked the man's attempt of a punch. But Charger in the right corner- he took out his pistol and fired one shot. Jason knew one shot was all he needed. The bullet hit the man squarely on his shoulder.

It was over before something could even begin. "What did I tell you folks," Jason said over the microphone. "I said no funny business." He jumped off the stage and made his way to Silvia, who was still on the floor rubbing his neck. "You ok?" he asked, going down on one knee.

"No, boss. I don't-" Silvia then faced the other way, throwing up whatever meager dinner they were served. "Might be concussed," he reported a bit slurred. His eyes narrowed as if he was trying to keep the world from spinning.

"Boss," Torres called out, motioning to the wannabe hero now being fussed over by his wife. Torres marched over to him but keot an eye out. "The guy said nobody dies until he gives the signal. But he's bleeding pretty badly and Silvia was our medic," he whispered, frowning.

Jason sighed. This was going to be a problem. "Trev," he said quietly, using the communicator instead of going to the far left corner where the youngest in their team was.

"Yeah Tammy?" he asked.

""Any of the guests in this shop doctors? Silvia's looking a bit green and Charger shot a bleeder."

"Sorry, Jason," he heard Charger say.

"Five doctors in the house, Tammy. Three males. 45 honeymoon suite, 40 with family and 55 with family. two females. 47, with her family. The other one is 26. Best guess is that she's liscensed but still a resident," came the snappy report.

Jason sighed with dismay. There were so many glitzy people in this room and none of them was a doctor. He's going to have to bring someone in to this hell hole. As if his life currently isn't hard enough. "Charger, hold the fort. Trev, do you know what 26 looks like?" he asked.

"Unfortunately," he answered.

"She's the one. Might as well get the only one without a loved one, right? If she's not around, get 55. Plain clothes, Trevor. And make it snappy. The cops should be coming soon," he instructed.

"Copy that."

And with that, Jason saw a blur off the far left corner. "Torres." He nodded, as they continued on with the search with him taking Silvia's place.

All the scared looking people here stared at them like they were monsters. Jason swallowed staring right back at them until they looked away. Think of Rach, he told himself but couldn't quite bring himself to. He needed to concentrate. He couldn't let anything else go wrong. If he knew...

No he couln't go there. He had to hope for the best. For him and the guys. If they play their parts right, they get to go free. And quite frankly, that's what's important right now.