The grainy security camera footage showed a man getting shot in the back of the head in an empty subway station. The assailant was someone clad in all black, a hood over his head, calmly walking off as if he didn't just end a person's life. It was yet another in the series of shootings in the Empire State.

"Don't get comfortable. There'll be time to debrief on the plane," Hotch said, staring at the video as we all gathered in the round table room.

"Where are we headed?" Reid asked.

We'd just recently returned from a case in Roanoke—long story short, the Blue Ridge Strangler had woken up from a coma and couldn't remember anything. I hadn't been afforded enough time to dwell on what Rossi had said to me after our trip to Boston. And judging by the urgency in Hotch's voice, I wouldn't be able to any time soon.

"New York," he replied.

"Five shootings in two weeks," Rossi said, coming up beside me. "It's about time we got the call."

"I wanna take Garcia with us. Hopefully they'll give us access to their surveillance systems," Hotch said.

"What do we know?" Emily asked.

"All the killings are midday. Single gunshot to the head with a .22."

"Any witnesses?" JJ asked.

"No."

".22 caliber pistol's only a hundred-fifty-two decibels. Uh, New York streets and subways are routinely well over a hundred. It could be people aren't even registering the gunshot until the unsub's already leaving the scene," Reid said.

"They sound like mob hits," Morgan suggested.

"Except none of them have ties to organized crime," Hotch said.

"Do they have any connection to each other?" I asked.

"None they've found."

"How about communication with the police? Has the unsub tried to make contact?" Morgan asked.

"Surveillance cameras have captured video of three of the murders," Hotch turned to the screen and clicked the remote. "This is the latest." He showed us the same video that was playing when we stepped in.

"That's the best image they have?" JJ asked.

"They're all the same," Hotch showed us a different one of someone getting shot under a streetlamp. "He wears a hood and keeps his head down."

"This guy's bold. Crowded areas, broad daylight," Emily shook her head.

"So they're completely random?" Rossi asked.

"It seems that way," Hotch muttered, watching another video of someone getting shot as they exited the subway station.

"Son of Sam all over again," Reid said.

"How come I only get to travel with you guys, like, once every two years?" Garcia complained, making her way onto the jet.

"Trust me, mama, it can get old," Morgan pointed out from behind her, handing the tech goddess her luggage.

"Oh, right, like the way that spa treatments and five star hotels can get old," she snarked.

"Remember the time we got onboard and they hadn't chilled the Cristal?" Emily joked, coming out from behind Morgan.

"That was the day I almost quit the BAU," I played along from my spot on the couch.

"Okay, you know what, you guys can joke all you want 'cause I am never leaving this plane," Garcia said.

I smirked, looking down at the file on my lap. I went through the pictures, just as Rossi was doing at the table a few feet away from me.

"The victims?" he looked at Hotch.

"Each killed in a completely different neighborhood. Hell's Kitchen, Murray Hill, Lower East Side, Chinatown, East Harlem," Hotch said.

Emily sat down on the arm of the chair, handing me a bottle of water. I nodded my thanks.

"It doesn't make any sense. There's no common victimology, no sexual component, no robbery, no geographical connection," Reid said. "Do the police have any leads?"

"He's killing roughly every two days. The press is having a field day and it sounds like the mood on the street's getting pretty edgy," Hotch said.

"It's a joint FBI-NYPD taskforce?" I asked.

Hotch nodded at me. "Kate Joyner heads up the New York field office. She's running point on the case and called me directly. Uh, JJ, would you tell them we're ready to go?" he called over the seat.

"Right," JJ stood up from her chair far away from us. She had been staring out the window, thinking about something.

"Kate's starting to butt heads with the lead detectives and wanted a fresh set of eyes," Hotch said to Rossi.

"Joyner, I know her," Morgan said. "She's a Brit, right?"

"Well, dual citizenship. Her father's British, her mother's American," Hotch corrected. "She was a big deal at Scotland Yard before coming to the Bureau."

"I heard she can be a little bit of a pain in the ass."

"I didn't think so," Hotch replied.

"You know her?" Emily asked.

"We liaised when she was still at Scotland Yard."

"And she's good?" Rossi asked.

"I think we're lucky to have her."

"And we're cleared for takeoff. Please take your seats," our pilot said over the intercom.

I gathered my file and followed Emily and Morgan to buckle myself into one of the swiveling chairs.

The elevator door opened and we spilled out into the field office. A blonde woman (who looked alarmingly like Hotch's ex-wife) approached us, her brunette assistant jogging behind her.

"Is it just me or does she look exactly like Haley?" JJ muttered to Garcia behind me. I smirked to myself, having thought the same thing.

"Kate," Hotch said, meeting her halfway through the bullpen.

"Aaron. How've you been?" she asked in an accented voice.

"Well, thank you. Uh, this is my team. Kate Joyner, this is, uh, David Rossi, Emily Prentiss, Hunter McCarthy, Jennifer Jareau, Penelope Garcia, Derek Morgan, and Spencer Reid," Hotch introduced.

"Thanks for being here," she said. "Anything that you need, just tell me. Please don't stand on protocol."

"What can you tell us about the city's surveillance system?" Garcia asked.

"Um, it's run by the NYPD. It's still in the infant stages. It's been rather controversial. American privacy laws," Kate said. "Um, but they've had some success."

"And I'll have complete access?"

"They're already expecting you. Shelley," Kate gestured for her assistant to take Garcia away.

"I'd like to get a map of the borough. Uh, I want to do a comprehensive geographical profile of the area in order to ascertain the unsub's mental map before it's clouded by our own linkage blindness," Reid said.

"I see you brought your own computer," said a gruff, older man. He and his younger partner had come up to the doctor's side.

"Detectives Brustin and Cooper," Kate pointed at the respective men. "I'll let you do the introductions."

"You caught the first shooting?" Rossi leaned over to get a better look.

"Uh, they've all been in different precincts," Cooper, the younger (and very attractive) one said. "It wasn't until the third murder that anyone even made the connection."

"I guess this is where we play nice and ask you what you need," Brustin said.

It wasn't hard to tell who played good cop and who played bad cop between the two of them.

Kate let out an awkward chuckle. "I'll let you all figure out what that is. I just ask that you run everything back through me. It's been my experience that having one butt on the line is enough."

"Yes, ma'am," Brustin scoffed.

I noticed Cooper reach for his shield.

"Can I have a word with you in private?" Kate asked Hotch.

Emily and I exchanged glances with each other, then with JJ.

"Sure. Excuse me," Hotch stepped away with her.

"They, um, liaised when she was at Scotland Yard," I muttered to the blonde.

"Of course," JJ nodded.

"Hey, so, uh, what's your partner's problem?" Reid asked Cooper once we split up. Rossi, JJ, and Morgan went to the latest crime scene with Brustin. Emily, Reid, and I stayed with Cooper so Reid could make his map.

"Uh, well…" Cooper looked over his shoulder. "Well, by the, uh, the fourth murder, the FBI was brought in. Good. We can use all the help we can get. But, uh, all of a sudden, she's taking meetings with the mayor," Cooper looked at Kate's office, "and calling in you all without us knowin' anything about it."

"We're only here to help," I said.

"Think of us as a resource," Emily told him.

"Okay," he nodded. "Profile me."

Emily gave him a look.

"What am I thinking?" he continued, a goofy smile on his face.

Emily laughed. "It's never gonna happen."

Cooper smirked, bouncing his eyebrows. "No offense, but we've had five murders. Hope it gets better than that."

I exchanged glances with Emily, watching him step away. "So cute, yet such a dick."

"Always the case," she shook her head.

"We're gonna need records over the last six months for any arrests on gun violence or gun possession in every borough except the ones where the shootings have taken place," Reid said once his map was complete.

"Uh, I don't get it," Cooper shifted his eyes to the doctor.

"He won't strike near where he lives," I told him.

"What makes you so sure?"

"It's anti-geographical profiling," Emily said.

"Now it's anti-geographical profiling?" Cooper raised his eyebrows high under his dark faux-hawk. "Eh, come on. Now you wonder why we're so skeptical?"

"This unsub's organized. He strikes at the same time of day. He knows where the cameras are. That means he's doing his own pre-surveillance," I put my hands on my hips.

"A need-motivated killer operates within his own comfort zone. An organized killer with some other motivation will make sure to strike outside that zone," Reid explained.

"Not where he lives," Cooper nodded.

"Exactly," Emily said. "Unfortunately, that means that every other neighborhood in the city has a reason to be terrified."

Another person had been shot on a street corner. The killer left a death tarot card this time, à la the DC Snipers. I sat in the New York field office with Emily, Reid, and JJ, watching the video footage of the incident as Hotch, Kate, Rossi, and Morgan came up to us.

"What have we got?" Hotch asked.

"The latest shooting," JJ said. We watched as the assailant shot the man, dropped the card next to the body, and ran away

"This was the previous murder," Emily said, switching to the other video. "Okay, do you see anything weird here?"

"He sprints off in one and walks calmly in the other," Morgan said. "It's two entirely different demeanors."

"Six kills in, his behavior should be set," Rossi said over my shoulder. I felt my cheeks heat up in a way that they hadn't for a couple of weeks.

"That's not all, folks," I said before leaning closer to the computer. "Garcia, my love, are you still there?"

"Would I ever leave you, dear Hunter? Okay, check it out. I did a digital perspective analysis rendering on the shootings where we have footage. Now, the first two are inconclusive, but the last two I found something tres weird. Your calm, walking type—he is about six-foot-one. But your sprinter—he's, like, five-nine, five-ten tops."

"We've got more than one unsub," Hotch remarked.

"So, we have more than one unsub. What does that tell us?" Rossi stepped out in front of all of us.

"Most teams stick together. Uh, Ng and Lake, the Krays, Bittaker and Norris. They don't usually kill separately," Reid pointed out.

"Could be some kinda gang initiation," Morgan suggested.

"Well, gangs'll kill you if you encroach on their territory, not random people all over the city," Emily shook her head.

"I'll coordinate with the gang taskforce, make sure we have an overview by morning," JJ got off the desk she was sitting on and walked off.

"Do you think you have enough for a working profile?" Kate asked.

"Broad strokes," Rossi said.

"Dave, you and Reid talk to the agents here. Morgan, McCarthy, and Prentiss, brief the police when each shift comes on duty tomorrow," Hotch ordered.

"I think we should get out on the streets," Morgan protested.

"I brought you here to create a profile," Kate said, glancing at him. I guess she'd been copping an attitude with him because he was possibly going to be nominated to take over her position if she couldn't close this case.

"Which we can give in the morning and then they can share with the afternoon shift," he said.

"We've allocated every extra man we have. This is New York City. It's not like a few more people is going to blanket the city."

"I understand it's a longshot," Morgan seemed to be holding back his temper, "but these guys, they hit at midday. We could target ingress and egress to particular neighborhoods." Kate looked annoyed. "Position us near express stops. 14th, 42nd, 59th—"

"Morgan, it's not your call," Hotch interjected.

"I'd like to join you in the profile, if that's not stepping on your toes," Kate looked over at Rossi.

"No problem," he shook his head.

Morgan walked away in annoyance, but Hotch stayed back to watch the video again.

"Look at this," I rolled my eyes, finding a newspaper about the latest shooting in the lobby of the hotel we were staying in. I picked it up and handed it to Emily.

"Late edition doesn't miss a beat," she said.

Reid looked past the blonde in front of him and noticed something. "JJ."

She looked over her shoulder. I smiled at the person sitting in a comfy chair. I leaned over to Emily and we both murmured, "LaMontagne," imitating his thick accent.

"Will," JJ approached her boyfriend.

"Hey, took a shot and flew to DC, but it didn't work. I figured a train ride to New York was only a few more hours," Will drawled as we gathered around.

"Detective," Hotch shook his hand.

"I'm sorry for showing up like this. I know you're working," he said. "But, um…I can't stand you being on this case and me not being here—not with what's going on."

"Is there a problem?" Hotch asked.

JJ chuckled bitterly, turning around to face us. "I-I'm pregnant," she beamed.

"Oh my God, JJ!" Emily hugged her. "Congratulations!"

"Jennifer Jareau, you kept this a secret from us?" I wrapped her in my arms once Emily was done. "I'll never forgive you."

"Sorry," JJ muttered.

"I've asked JJ to marry me," Will added.

"Will," she turned to look at him.

"Well, we're working out some kinks," he said, making JJ laugh as she hugged Reid.

"We'll, uh, give you both some privacy," Hotch said, stepping away.

JJ called his name and followed him.

"I've been thinkin' of names," Will said. "If it's a boy, William LaMontagne III. If it's a girl, Jennifer Jareau, Jr."

"Please tell me you'll be more inventive than that," I snickered.

Will shrugged. "It's still pretty early. We'll come up with something."

"Okay, let's start with what we know," Morgan said. "With these unsubs, it is not personal. It's not about sex, it's not about greed."

"Which is why we think there's something bigger at play here. This isn't random. There has to be a motive," Emily said.

"Now, our first theory is that we're dealing with a team," Morgan added.

"In the case of the DC Snipers, there was actually one intended victim," I stepped forward. "John Muhammad wanted to kill his ex-wife, but he knew if he did, he'd be the prime suspect, so he created a spree in order to mask his primary motivation. Muhammad and Malvo also left a death card at one of their scenes, just like this unsub."

"We believe our unsubs have studied that case. They're opening a line of communication," Emily said.

"Hold on, so now we got these guys playing games just 'cause you're here?" one of the detectives in the room sassed. Brustin chuckled in response.

"We're just saying the unsubs are sophisticated enough to study other crimes," Emily said.

"That doesn't answer the question," another detective said.

"Joe, easy," Cooper said. He was standing beside me in the room. "Hear 'em out."

"Hey, I got requests for gun permits up two hundred percent in my precinct. This whole city's about to go off. And we all need to deal with that," Joe said.

"Hey, listen, you're right," Morgan came ambled closer to him. "If the card was left because of us, then yes, they are playing games. But what that tells us is at least one of them has some intelligence."

"And like Agent Prentiss said, they know about other cases," I gestured to Emily. "They've also studied the placement of the surveillance systems well enough to avoid detection."

"Most teams have a dominant and submissive member," Emily said as she handed out laminated packets of gang information to the men in the crowd. "Because of the relative intelligence of these unsubs and the fact that they stick to a set time pattern, we believe at least one of them has a steady job."

"Like they said, we think there's something bigger at play here," Brustin said. "So talk to the people on your beats. See if something sparks. And pray this thing ain't random."

Garcia and the police officer in the tech room with her had discovered a potential shooter on a camera in the subway. They watched as the assailant shot a woman in the head and ran off. And the kicker—he was a different guy from the other two.

The next day, we were split up. I went with Emily and Cooper to patrol 59th Street and I've never felt more like chopped liver in my life. It seemed like the latter was trying to play the asshole love interest to my friend.

"So, uh, if we're undercover maybe we should, uh, you know, act like a couple," he said to her as we walked through the subway station.

"I'll play the third wheel, then," I rolled my eyes.

Emily laughed. "Are you still working this tired sexual tension angle?"

"I don't know, you're the fortune teller. You tell me," he said.

"You wanna know what profiling is, really?" Emily asked.

"Why do I have a feeling I'm gonna hear no matter what I say?"

"It's just noticing behavior."

"And I'm about to hear about mine. Is that the deal?" he stopped and stepped out in front of us.

"Okay. When we first met, when your partner was sarcastic and said, 'Yes, ma'am', you instinctively reached for your detective shield, as if you were protecting it. That tells me you don't like him disrespecting the chain of command. But you're also loyal, so you didn't say something to him. I'd say you were military, probably an officer. Praise in public, censure in private, right? You're right-handed, but you have two different colored pen marks on your left hand. I'd guess you have a toddler at home, just learning how to draw. You don't wear a ring. And you were quick to flirt with me. So you're happy to let people think you are a player," Emily said, making him chuckle. "But if I took you up on it, you would run for the hills because you love your wife and you would never actually cheat on her."

"Boom," I deadpanned, holding up a fist for Emily to bump with her own.

"Wow," Cooper looked impressed. "We might just solve this case yet."

Emily and I stepped past him, snickering to ourselves. Cooper followed us out of the station and we looked around the street for any suspicious activity. Suddenly, we heard a gunshot down a ways and looked over our shoulders.

"Garcia," I said into the comm. device in my sleeve.

"I'm on it, I'm on it," the analyst whimpered. "Uh, 16th and Broadway. He's running east on 16th."

"He's headed our way," Emily said.

We darted off, turning a corner. A teenager clad in a black hooded sweatshirt noticed us and stopped. He turned and ran. We pulled out our weapons and rushed after him. Cooper and I were neck and neck, with Emily just barely behind us.

"MOVE! MOVE!" Cooper barked on the busy sidewalk. "GET OUT OF THE WAY!"

The street cleared up and I managed to sprint ahead of the detective, following the teen as he went down an alleyway. I stopped before it, seeing that the kid was standing there, gun at the ready. Next thing I knew, he had shot his gun through my shoulder. I fell to the ground just as he shot again, this time hitting Cooper. Clasping at the searing pain in my chest, I cried out. Cooper was next to me, his wound mirroring mine.

There were two more shots, but they both came from Emily's gun. I craned my neck upward and watched as she checked the vitals of the shooter, grabbing his weapon.

"Cooper! Hunter!" Emily came over to us, her sleeve up to her mouth. "Garcia! We've got two men down—and one of them is Hunter. 16th West of Union Square." She lowered her wrist and looked at Cooper. "Let me see. You're gonna be okay. Hunter, sweetie," she turned and touched my hand. I showed her the wound, biting back tears. "You'll be fine," she stroked my hair. I could see how glassy her eyes were. "Garcia, can you see us?! We have two men down!" Emily yelled into her wrist as a crowd gathered. "Stay with me, guys."

"Emily," I said, feeling my own blood gush between my fingers. "Find them."

"Shh, come on, Hunter. Save your strength," she said, covering both of our hands with her own to add pressure. "You're gonna be okay. Stay with me."

I tried to smile at her, but I was in so much pain. This is what I get for being such a shit-heel, I thought.

"Y-You're my best friend," I choked out. "I-I love you."

"I love you too, Hunter," Emily said, letting a tear slide off her check and onto my face. "You're gonna make it."

Rossi and Reid sped over to the crime scene. He felt his heart racing in his chest as they got out of the Suburban and saw paramedics working on McCarthy and the detective by her side. Her stained blouse had been torn open, revealing a lacy brassiere caked in blood, the right strap ripped apart by the bullet.

He could barely stand to look at her tearful eyes struggling to stay open. But he got as close as he could to her, hoping beyond all hope that she'd be okay. That was his teammate. That was his protégé.

That was Hunter.

Her chest heaved as she tried to breathe, her hands were clenched in pain. She shifted her eyes over to Rossi as she was getting lifted into the gurney and he could tell that she was trying to smile at him.

There was a pang in his chest and he wanted to accompany her in the ambulance. However, what he wanted more was to find out about the son of a bitch who hurt her and who he was working for. Rossi glanced over and saw Prentiss grab onto McCarthy's hand as she got carted away. She also checked on Cooper, who was being wheeled into another ambulance.

"Are you okay?" Morgan asked, coming up to Prentiss with JJ in tow. Rossi stood by the pool of blood on the sidewalk, listening in.

"Are they gonna make it?" JJ asked, her eyes glassy. "Is Hunter gonna make it?"

"I don't know," Prentiss choked out. "They both lost a lot of blood."

Morgan cracked his neck, his face grave. "I'm gonna go with Mick," he said, rushing over to the ambulance to jump in before it was too late.

Rossi felt another pang at those words. He felt better that she wasn't alone, only he wished he had gone himself. He followed Reid over to the body of the shooter, who was barely clinging to life as more paramedics worked on him.

"He's not gonna live to tell us anything," Rossi said. And he couldn't say he was too upset.

"Any ID on him?" Reid asked.

"Nothing."

"This is not good."