Hi guys. I know y'all are totally like "where's smaugwearsascarf been for the past week?" So to make up for my absence, I'm gonna do two (not one, two!) chapters today. That's love right there, folks! The kind of love a parent gives to a child in the form of an PS2 after missing their soccer game for the third consecutive time even after I was totally the goalie two of those times, which is really awesome for me cuz I'm normally terrified of the ball and SERIOUSLY, THREE FRICKING GAMES? HOW COULD YOU?

Ummm... Here, fanfic, enjoy! (runs away while y'all are distracted)

DISCLAMER: I do not own Hannibal. If I did why would I put it on a site called . By simply putting this on this website I am giving the disclaimer of FAN FICTION. Not creator fiction, FAN. If I owned Hannibal I would call this HANNIBAL. Get it through your skulls!

Whew. Glad I got that outta my system.

In the forensics lab of the FBI Will Graham and the team that was fondly titled 'sassy science,' after their sassy attitudes towards atoms and protons. Or something. Nobody really cares that much about them.

"Inside the body," began one member of the team that nobody knew the name of because no one cares that much. "We found a combination of hardwoods, shredded newspaper, and pig poop."

Everyone giggled for a couple seconds after hearing the word 'poop.'

"They all died of kidney failure, though," added Zeller, whose name is remembered for solely the use of the Z in his name.

"He pumped dextrose into the tubing, something about dialysis, uh... science stuff," Beverley Katz said, walking in and handing Will a file.

Will nodded. "I thought science stuff might've killed him."

"They were force feeding them sugar water," said unnamed team member with a frustrated sigh.

"That's what I said," Beverly said, scowling.

"Well, those mushrooms sure loved that sugar water," Zeller said. "But there has to be more than that... Who else like sugar water...?"

"Uh, recovering alcoholics," Beverly stated. "Oh, sorry," she said, turning to unnamed team member.

"Oh, I'm not recovering," joked unnamed team member.

"Wait, hold the phone!" Will said. "That's not cool. We're just gonna casually drop in that you're an alcoholic? And never bring it up again? Dude, that's an important plot point. That's a big deal, man. Alcoholism is serious! Is that just a joke or are you actually an alcoholic? Cuz if you are we could say screw the episode, let's just learn about unnamed team member for a good half hour. I'd be more than willing to do that."

Unnamed team member shrugged. "I dunno. I just read what's in the script."

Will shook his head. "Well... jeez, take care of that. Talk to Bryan Fuller. I don't want stuff like that just casually dropped in."

"Sorry," apologized nameless team member.

"It's okay, just um, just try not to do that again, okay?"

"Yeah. Sorry."

"Where were we?" asked Will, turning back to Beverly.

"Sugar water," she prompted.

"Right. So they we're killed by sugar water. What does that make them?" asked Will.

"Hummingbirds?" suggested Zeller.

"Suicidal?" suggested unnamed team member.

"JESUS!" yelled Will. "What the fuck, man? That's not even funny! Dude, you are dark. Do you need a therapist or something?"

Unnamed team member stared at his shoes. "It's just... no one knows my name..." There we're tears in his eyes now.

"Well, I'm sorry. You need to talk to us about this stuff, character who no one knows the name of. I like you."

"Really?" asked unnamed team member, now openly weeping.

"Oh, of course I do-N'T! HA! You thought I liked you? Man, that's so funny. You're just so easy to trick!"

The whole room reverberated with laughter and unnamed science team member started shaking and ran out of the room.

"Man. We have fun, don't we, Zeller?" asked Will, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes.

"Yeah," Zeller said, laughing. "This is a great job."

"What about the case?" asked Beverly.

"Oh, they're all diabetic," Will told them.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," Beverly said, nodding, Zeller echoing her agreement.

"Right. So this scene's over then. Um, do you think that nameless guy is okay?" Will asked, feeling guilty for a moment.

Zeller shrugged. "Do you honestly care?"

"No, no I don't," Will said. "All I care about is my dogs."

The scene faded since there were no more good jokes to make.

Meanwhile a woman who wore a shirt that showed more cleavage than necessary (not that that's a bad thing) walked up to the counter of what would be a Wal-mart pharmacy, except for legal reasons is just a nameless grocery store. Like the unnamed science team member. Except he actually has a name. That no one cares about.

"Picking up a prescription for Gretchen Speck," said boob woman.

"Ah," said the man behind the counter who everyone knows is the murderer, staring at her chest and suddenly unable to think clearly for some mysterious reason. He quickly began to sort through names.

"Speck... Speck... Horowitz-Speck?"

"Yeah, we're divorced. I lost the hyphen," she said with a smile that somehow reached her boobs.

"That's cool," said the pharmacist who we all know is about to kill this lady. "I was married once."

"Were you?" she asked, continuing her weird smile.

"Yeah. I induced a diabetic coma and planted her in the ground. I'm kinda into that. It's like my thing."

"Oh, that's nice," she said, not listening.

"I'll, erm, get your drugs now."

The man turned around, opened the fridge, pulled out a plastic baggie labeled 'diabetic death drugs for killing' and pulled out one of the bottles it contained.

"Here ya go, ma'am. I'll just be stalking you until these kick in, if that's alright with you."

"It'll be like having a husband again!" she said with another smile, this one even more boobalicious than the last.

Life is good when you're a serial killer. Which is the moral of the T.V. show.

The FBI swat team entered the supermarket, which seems like it would be really scary for the customers but we don't really get to see it so it's hard to actually tell. Jack Crawford and Will Graham entered the supermarket without any cool guns because they're too bad ass for that.

They marched to the pharmacy desk and Jack flashed the badge he'd flashed in chapter one of this fic, if you remember that far back.

"Jack Crawford, FBI, resident black dude," he said.

"Weren't you white in the Silence of the Lambs?" asked a customer innocently.

Jack nodded at one of the swat team members, who promptly shot the customer in the head.

"We can only do once callback per chapter," Jack said. "And I can be whatever color I want. I'm Jack Motherfucking Crawford. Now which one of you pansies is the serial killer?"

"H-he left just a few minutes ago," whimpered one of the pharmacists.

"Is his car still here?" asked Will.

The pharmacist, staring at the rapidly growing puddle of blood forming around the innocent bystander, did not react.

"HIS CAR, BITCH!" yelled Jack Crawford. He'd been watching a lot of Breaking Bad lately and he wondered if he should start ending his sentences with the word 'bitch.' It sounded really cool. And Jack Crawford was into cool. That's why he owned sunglasses and had a subscription to Awesome Shit Monthly.

The terrified pharmacist nodded terrifiedly.

The FBI made their way to the parking lot, which for some odd reason was a parking ramp. What kind of grocery store has a parking ramp? That's just plain weird.

"It's that one," said the pharmacist, who had soiled himself after Jack punched a woman in the face after she'd asked why the director of Behavioral Science in the FBI would personally come along to a mission that he really didn't need to come along for.

Will approached the car the pharmacist had indicated and used a heavy night stick to bash the window open.

"Where'd you get that?" asked Jack. "You didn't have it three seconds ago."

Will shrugged. "Do you honestly care, Jack?"

"Not really," Jack admitted. "The only thing I care about is looking cool while doing the minimum amount of work required."

"That's horrible," said the pharmacist.

"So is your face," said Jack. He and Will high-fived and Will opened up the trunk of the serial killer's car.

It was full to the brim with dirt and an unconscious body, which Will immediately dug out.

"She's got a nice rack," observed Jack as the body became visible as the blonde lady we'd seen earlier.

"Aren't you married?" asked Will.

Jack shrugged. "She's dying."

"But you don't know that yet," Will protested.

"I read ahead in the script. Can you believe that you're gonna get to make out with Alana?"

"I am?" asked Will. "Do we get together, and get married, and live happily ever after?"

"Hey, look," Jack said, "it's a distraction!"

"Where?" asked Will, turning around and searching for the aforementioned distraction.

"Jack- Where'd he go?" asked Will, staring about.

"He r-ran away," said the pharmacist. "I think he slashed the car's tires before he left, though."

Will grinned. "Classic Jack."

"I think he went back to the counter," the pharmacist added. "Something about Freddie Lounds?"

Back at the counter Beverly Katz was looking at with Jack Crawford, Zeller, and unnamed science team member, who had just finished writing his resignation letter and was mentally preparing to hand it over to Jack.

Will hurried into the group.

"Well, what's it say?" Will asked.

"Will Graham is a stuupid, ughly, meanyyhead who won't tell me nothing. He'z fat and his doggs are annoying and toetaly he smells bad, 2. Will Graham is ssoooooo ugly that his mother musta died of sadstuff disease after she gave birth to him. I bet Will Graham'z aktor is so uncool that he'll never not never ever get a job after Hannibal cuz he'z so untalented. He's just the wurst aktor ever. Hugh Dancy can suck my curly, ginger lady dick," Beverly read out loud. "#freddielounds4prezident."

"How is she a reporter again?" asked Zeller.

"I dunno. How's Jack head of Behavioral Science?" Will asked.

Jack shrugged. "I don't know."

Beverly scrolled down, looking at other posts, one of which was a picture of Hannibal eating a human hand. It was right below a very badly photoshopped image of her under the Hannibal logo with the text "NEW STARR OF NBCE's HUNNIBAL FREDDDIE LOUANDS IZ SUPA AWESOMESAUCE."

"Nothing incriminating here, sir," Katz told Jack.

"Can I still threaten her?" asked Jack.

"I don't see why not."

Everyone high-fived in celebration of their collective awesomeness.

I just wanna say very quickly: I mock Hannibal because I love it. I also love you guys and your awesome reviews and stuff. Which you should continue doing, if you want to. Or don't. It's not like I'll know. In fact you could flick off the computer screen that my thought-words are on and I'd never know. Actually you could print this all off and burn it if you felt like it. I don't know you. Probably. So... think about all that, I guess.

Now go ahead and keep on truckin' y'all.

Smaugwearsascarf out!