Alright, you guys! Think of this as the end of "Lima."

Hello,

Contrary to popular belief, the Collective is not one of those groups with a long, rich, crazy history nor did it begin with one man or one family. It's this group of men and women who hail from different countries, different states, and different cultures who are so good at what they do that they were often ostracized by not only their organization but from nearly every organization they came across. Many feared their talents could go both ways, and there was a lack of trust spreading amongst the higher ranks. My father was one of those people. I know little about his past, just as I know little about my Dad's past in Russia, but I knew enough to determine both grew up in households with ties to some of the most dangerous families ever recorded in history.

The Krayevsky family aligned themselves with the type of people you try to avoid, not befriend. As for the Berry family, well, Leroy lost his parents at a young age, and he grew up with his uncle. I think some of you might know him as the Acid Killer from Kansas City. His uncle murdered sixteen women and fourteen men in ten years with a single vat of acid. All he left behind were their bones and a half-burned license that allowed families to get closure on their loved ones. However, what most don't know is the last three victims were not killed by the same person. Years' of watching his uncle murder innocent victims warped my father's mind, and he soon joined his uncle on a lot of his sprees.

When his uncle died of a heart attack, Leroy ran away, and from then on, the trail goes cold until he re-appears twenty years later as the leader and founder of the Collective.

Like I said before, the Collective is more like an all-star game. It's the best of the best in one arena. There are individuals from the Yakuza, from the 'Ndrangheta, from the Camorra, and yes, even from several cartels including the Sinaloa Cartel in Mexico. There are snipers, drug runners, gun runners, mercenaries, chemists, bomb experts, hand-to-hand specialists, and there are tons of others who are capable of going above and beyond in their field. You need a man to mysteriously die of the black plague? Five people can make that happen. You need your wife or husband to get arrested for a murder they did not commit? Twenty people can make that happen and make it seem like the perfect crime. Need a weapon that's illegal in fifty states, ten countries, and fourteen provinces? There are a hundred different smugglers who could have it for you in less than twenty-four hours. It is not the type of organization that needs a leader or a protector, as they are unique pieces operating in the same entity. With that said, however, a problem will arise if a leader is not chosen.

If there is a belief that the Collective is up for grabs, then many will try to gain control, and it will cause a discord that will shake not only the criminal underground but also the world. Legally, I could argue that I am the best and only choice for the job, but since I am related to Leroy through marriage, I will have a problem in doing so. But I was convinced by my family that it is the best option for everyone involved.

I know of the bounty on my head, and I do not believe that this bounty is retaliation, but rather a preemptive strike to keep me from following in my father's footsteps. Something I do not appreciate. The issue I now face requires more than what I have, and I am in desperate need of help. If you are willing, able, and ready to follow me into Hell itself, then I ask that you come to the address listed at the bottom of this message no later than Friday evening. If you are not interested, then so be it. However, I am not one to make idle threats, and if you relay any of this information to someone who wishes to do me or my family harm, I will ensure that you die a slow and painful death.

The day is coming where you will not be able to avoid this. People will die, people you love will die, and you will be left with only two choices: fight or die with them. I have seen too much death in my lifetime, and I refuse to see it anymore unless it is by my hand and my enemy falls at my feet. You are someone I feel I can trust, and if I am wrong, then I pray the Lord to have mercy on my soul as well as yours because nothing short of the hand of God will stop me from hunting you down and ripping the skin from your bones.

Remember these two things as you consider my offer:

There is no turning back.

We will not hesitate to do what needs to be done.

I hope to see you soon.

Sincerely,

Eva Krayevsky-Berry.

At approximately one p.m. Monday afternoon, a massive explosion rocked the small town of Lima, Ohio. Police, firefighters, and EMTs alike rushed to the scene, only to discover a leveled house with scorched Earth as far as their eyes could see. They would find unidentifiable bodies amongst the rubble, but nothing else.

At approximately seven p.m. Monday evening, certain, gossip-hungry students would point out to the police that seven teenagers were not in attendance that day at school:

Tina Cohen-Chang

Samuel Evans

Brittany Pierce

Noah Puckerman

Quinn Fabray

Santana Lopez

Rachel* Berry

The detective in charge would soon note later that night that the bodies they found at the explosion site matched the DNA of the students listed as absent as well as their families.

Three days later, thousands of miles away, an Italian crime lord would receive a strange package in the mail. He would have someone open it, test the strange dust sprinkled along the bloodied sheet-wrapped body found inside, and his cries of sorrow would reach the far ends of his home and the ears of his beloved wife.

He would mourn the death of his only son, and not once would he think of his daughter.

At the same time in a small coastal town in Mexico, a father would ignore the body parts of his son and order his men to dump the remains in the ocean for the sharks to feast. He would stare at his wife, ask her if she would mourn, and his wife would merely shake her head and go back to lying in the sun.

On Friday evening at eight p.m., the doors to a luscious mansion in Miami, Florida would open, and a young girl dressed in a long, flowing red dress with jet black hair and tattoos all over her body would greet her guests as they entered her home. She would smile, shake hands, and laugh as they asked for her name.

"Eva," she would say. "My name is Eva. Welcome to Kosmetika, my friend."