Hey there readers! I'm so terribly sorry about the delay! Like woo, it's been a few months! Sorry about that :/ Life managed to kick up for both me and my beta so it took longer than usual to get this out. Hopefully the length of this will make it up to you all~
Guest 1: Your confliction sustains me X) Haha, kidding~ Thanks for reading and reviewing :D
Guest 2: I'm surprised and somewhat flattered you noticed. I now believe that an explanation is in order. The only reason that I update "Keepsakes" a bit more often is because I take that story a bit less seriously than this one so I'm not as concerned about doing a good job on it. Don't get me wrong, I work pretty hard on "Keepsakes", but this story brings out my inner perfectionist a lot more prominently. I'd like also like to point out that Hetalia is a lot more light-hearted than Criminal Minds so writing for it is just a bit easier. Besides, this story has a beta, "Keepsakes" doesn't. I hope that makes sense to you, and thank you very much for your encouragement and observations :)
Warnings: the chapter's a doozy. It has torture scenes, so that means blood, gore, and violence. Also, look out for language and some major spoilers to season 2 "Revelations" and briefly to season 4 "Omnivore"
P.S Thanks for the idea for this chapter, CoverGirl7210 :D
For the first time in a long time since this nightmare began, Tobias began to feel truly relieved and hopeful. Hearing Spencer's voice and talking to him and answering his questions managed to ease his worries, if not for the time being. He felt more confident that things would work out.
That is, until a figure suddenly loomed over him.
"What the hell is going on here, boy?! What are you doing?!"
Tobias involuntarily jumped and spun around, finding his father standing close by, glaring at him. He automatically tensed up and a light tremble travelled through him. For a moment, he didn't know what to do. A quick glance at Miss Jareau showed that she was just as startled and her blue orbs were wide with fear and dread.
Charles's glower darkened at his lack of response. "Didn't you hear me, boy?! What the hell are you doing?!" He then sharply turned his attention on the phone in his hand. "Who are you calling?!"
Before Tobias could think of a lie, Charles abruptly snatched the device out of his hand and barked, "Who is this?! Speak, vermin!"
Reid stiffened from his end yet caught ahold of himself. After taking a second to strengthen his resolve, he calmly replied, "Hello Mr. Hankel, this is Dr. Spencer Reid. I-"
"You again?!" Charles practically screeched into the phone, getting JJ to flinch. "Don't you ever quit?! Mark my words, heathen, you're going to get what you deserve and burn in the pits of Hell for all the goddamned sins you've committed!"
To his fury and Tobias's amazement, Reid steadily answered, "The 3rd commandment states that 'you shall not take the name of the Lord your God in vain, for the Lord will not hold him guiltless who takes his name in vain' and I'm pretty sure that the word 'goddamned' falls under that category." Charles made a noise of outrage. "Mr. Hankel, I know you have no reason to trust me, but please listen when I say that George Foyet is a liar. He is not who you think he is. He's only trying to trick you and-"
"Liar!" Charles viciously snapped. "The only one who's trying to trick me is you, and like before, I'm not going to fall for it! And don't you dare lecture me on the Bible! Just because you're a devil that knows how to read doesn't mean that you know more than I do! I am a servant of the Lord while you're nothing!"
A devil that knows how to read…well now that took him back…
Reid was growing increasingly panicked with how the situation was turning out: though he managed to figure out that Tobias had dissociative identity disorder as well as a fierce dedication to the Bible, the information wasn't exactly working in his favor. His attempts at placating the man didn't work. If anything, he was only angering him more.
When Tobias (or was it his personality? He couldn't be entirely sure) grabbed him and began removing his shoes, Reid wasn't sure what to expect. Regardless, the thickening coil of dread strangling his senses and rationality warned him that it wasn't good. Out of desperation, he instinctively began to recite: "The Lord spake unto Moses saying 'speak unto all of the congregation of The Children of the Lord and say unto them, you shall be holy for I the Lord your God am holy'."
For a moment, Tobias actually paused and stared at him in the middle of his recital, still angry yet subtly surprised and maybe even intrigued. Once Reid finished, he stated, "You know Leviticus."
"Every word of the Bible, I can recite it-"
"The Devil knows how to read too."
That rebuttal made that coil of dread sharply spike into a new level of fear and color drained from Reid's face as he grew frantic. "I'm not a devil, I'm not a devil I'm a man. My name is Spencer Reid and I have a mother and a father just like you and they taught me the Bible. Let me, let me just recite the Bible."
By now, both of Reid's shoes were removed and so was the sock of his left foot, which Tobias was currently holding up while his other hand was holding a piece of log…
"It's time to confess Spencer Reid." The young profiler couldn't bring himself to say anything and merely pressed his lips together. Clearly not hearing the answer he wanted, Tobias cruelly smashed the log into Reid's bare foot.
A vicious smack resounded throughout that quiet, ominous shack, but it was nothing compared to the shriek of uncontrolled agony rushing out of Reid's mouth. A brutal jolt of pain surged from his foot and seeped into his entire being, rattling his core and getting him to cave into himself.
"Confess!"
After releasing a pained exhale and though he very well knew the consequences, Reid forced himself to say, "I have nothing to confess."
The second blow hurt just as much if not more so, yet Reid kept repeating that he wasn't a sinner, that he had absolutely nothing to confess, despite that each time he did granted him another strike to the foot. This continued for the first couple of hits until after a while he kept silent—the only noises he made were anguished screams of pains and the whimpers that followed.
Even after Tobias was through with him, frustrated at having gotten nothing out of him, the ghosts of the abuse lingered for hours afterwards, and his foot throbbed with the most ferocious form of torment he had ever felt in his life.
And to think that this was only the beginning.
Reid briefly closed his eyes as that particular memory ran its course, taking a deep breath before he gestured for the team to trace the call. Prentiss immediately responded by whipping out her cell phone and dialing Garcia's number while Morgan signaled for him to carry on the conversation. With that taken care of, Reid nodded and turned his full attention on 'Charles'.
"Believe what you like, Mr. Hankel, but you'll figure the truth out for yourself in the end. Foyet is a sociopathic narcissist with a need for power. After a while he will grow tired of using you and will find some way to get rid of you-"
"As if I'm going to believe that," 'Charles' began to snarl.
"And I know you won't," Reid smoothly interjected. "Now if you could please put Tobias back on the phone then that would be appreciated; let me speak to him because I know he'll heed my warnings."
Even without the sound of indignation that followed, Reid could sense 'Charles's' anger at his request. "I'm not going to let you manipulate my son any more than you already have-!"
Tobias, who had been listening breathlessly to the conversation, knew that enough was enough. He snatched back the phone and hurriedly said, "Spencer! I'm here! I-" He was cut off by a fist to the face that caught him off guard.
"Dammit boy, shut up!" Charles snarled at him before addressing Spencer, growling lowly and menacingly, "Now you listen here, demon, I'm not just going to sit back and let you get away with everything you've done. I will personally make sure that you get everything you have coming to you. You better hope that God has mercy on you because I sure as hell won't. You think I was tough on you before? That doesn't even come close to what I'm capable of and what I'm endowed to do. Those other heathens won't even recognize your dead body once I'm through with you."
Reid shivered at the threat yet remained firm. "I'm perfectly aware of the business between us so why don't we settle this now? Why don't we meet up and talk, Mr. Hankel? Just the two of us, no one else—not even my team or Foyet or Tobias. Just you and me, face-to-face. We can sort things out." The young profiler ignored how the others appeared startled by the sheer suggestion. While Rossi and Prentiss gave him a look that clearly showed their disapproval, Morgan had no problems expressing his with a firm 'don't even think about it, Reid'. "We can get to the root of these supposed sins you're accusing me of."
"My accusations are real, boy," 'Charles' coldly responded. "I know for a fact that you're a liar and don't think I haven't forgotten that you've dishonored your mother-"
"I know you haven't because I haven't forgotten either, and I've been working on making things right ever since. Now why don't you do the same thing, Mr. Hankel, and make things right; you need to stop killing innocent people and turn yourself in. If you do, then I guarantee that you'll save yourself, Raphael, and Tobias from an inevitable downfall orchestrated by Foyet himself. You can't trust him, he'll-"
"Quit trying to manipulate me, demon, your mind games from Hell don't work on me—I'm stronger than you!" Tobias tensely watched Charles repeatedly snap at Spencer and made a move to snatch the phone from him, but the older man was ready for him and kept blocking his access. For a moment, they roughly struggled for ownership until a new voice called out, "Oi, Raphael! We got ourselves a confession! I just wormed it out of them!"
Tobias instantly froze, his blood turning icy cold and his muscles locking in tension. Charles, on the other hand, though mildly caught off guard, frowned and growled, "Now you're in for it, boy."
Foyet simultaneously appeared at that moment, standing proudly in the doorway and smirking at him and Charles. Tobias couldn't help but notice that he had a stained switchblade in his hand and blood all over his hands and a sprinkle of red dots on his face like misplaced freckles. From the corner of his eye, Tobias noticed JJ stiffen then tremble and Foyet seemed to observe this too because he briefly flashed her a grin before turning back to the Hankels.
"Didn't you hear me? I said that I managed to squeeze a confession out of 'em. Actually, Richie was the one who spilled his guts…once I threatened to do it for him. Damn, you should've seen him—he squealed like a girl…or a pig. It's hard to tell the difference. Either way, I got it, I got us an admission of guilt, full on adultery. Man, I gotta tell ya, it went a lot faster than I thought. It was just so easy, I'm actually a bit disappointed…but it was still a lot of fun."
His eerie arrogant smile spoke of gruesome murders and hellish shrieks of sheer terror. Tobias shivered. However, it was then that Foyet seemed to notice the phone and his countenance considerably darkened. If Foyet was sinister and menacing when he was calm and relatively satisfied, then he was evil personified when he was angry. "Who are you calling?"
Tobias stiffened while Charles growled, "See for yourself." And with that, to both Tobias and JJ's horror, he tossed him the phone.
The Reaper was briefly caught off guard and he furrowed his brow at him, as if trying to figure him out, before talking into the phone. "Who's this?"
Almost instantly the color drained from Reid's face as he briefly staggered and held onto a nearby desk for support. He may not be afraid of 'Charles', but the infamous Boston Reaper was another story. "F-Foyet?"
At that accursed name, the rest of the team automatically tensed up; Morgan, in particular, undertook a stance that made it look like he was ready for a fight. Mentally cursing himself, Reid stood up straighter and evenly said, "George Foyet, you're speaking to SSA Dr. Spencer Reid. I'm pretty sure you're well aware of who I am just as I am of you—I understand that you're with the Hankels right now."
Foyet couldn't believe his luck. His suspicious frown reverted into a cool, dark smile as he replied, "Why Dr. Spencer Reid, this is a surprise. I must admit, for a moment I was worried that it might be someone who posed an actual threat. How've you been, Doc? Or rather should I say 'what's up doc?' Heh, get it? It's a Looney Tunes joke."
He could practically taste the kid's fear from the other end and he loved it. He glanced over at Hankel, knowing fully well that this was 'Charles' that he was talking to, and observed how the other man was fuming, seething over whatever it was Dr. Reid said to him. He looked over at Jennifer who had turned a sickly white, her pretty blue orbs wide with horror. He knew exactly what she was thinking: death, pain, gore, torture, the whole shebang.
Absentmindedly looking at his bloodied knife now, an inkling of an idea began to form. As it began to grow and expand, Foyet listened to the doctor's response. "I think we ought to cut to the chase, Foyet: you broke the Hankels and Raphael out of the institution to play this game of cat-and-mouse so that the team can come out here and participate. Well, now that we're out here and since you clearly have our attention, what exactly are you hoping to accomplish with all of this? What do you want?"
Foyet cruelly chuckled, amused. "I'm disappointed, doctor, really I am. I thought you and your precious team were supposed to be some of the smartest profilers in Quantico so why don't you tell me what it is that I want, huh." He waited for an answer but continued on after a moment passed. "Nothing? I truly am disappointed, you know that…although I shouldn't be all that surprised seeing that Aaron hasn't made the smartest decisions these past few months so it's only reasonable that his colleagues will be just as stupid."
He darkly scoffed, thinking back to how Aaron denied his deal. Though the results were satisfying and, well, hilarious, he was still pissed at Hotchner's arrogant insolence over his well-deserved power. "What do you think I want, Dr. Reid? Think real hard about it, kid, you're supposed to be the brainiac of the BAU."
He heard the kid take a deep breath, whether for his nerves or out of exasperation Foyet couldn't tell, but judging by the light tremble carefully hidden in his tone, it was easy to guess which one it was. "You want power and dominance, especially over your victims. Since Hotchner has that taken from you, you want to regain it and you're doing it out of revenge. What you want is to prove to us that you still have some semblance of control."
Foyet had to give the kid some props—he sounded pretty confident, like if he actually knew him, the Boston Reaper. "Cute, but no: what I want is for you to cooperate and to choose."
He could sense the young doctor's apprehension from his end. "Choose what?" How satisfying, he could hear the foreboding and worry in the kid's voice. He knew exactly what Dr. Reid was thinking too; he had referenced the videos on purpose.
Sneering, Foyet took his sweet time by waltzing into the living room and turning both the camera and the computer on. He observed Jennifer's face blanching with horror as dread and alarm pooled within her eyes while they tracked his every move. He smirked and said loud enough for Reid to hear, "Don't worry, Jennifer, I haven't forgotten about you—I'll deal with you later."
He snickered when she flinched and when he heard the small, faint sound of someone's breathing hitching from the other line. He then proceeded to hang up the phone—the last thing he needed was for those FBI pigs to trace the call—before turning to Tobias. "Follow me, Hankel. We're about to have some fun with a couple of sinners." Hankel needed no explanation and he dutifully trailed after him towards the basement, his lips curled into a smug frown.
Once they reached their destination, Foyet's eyes gleamed at the sight of his recent victims. Richard and Martha looked roughed up to put it generously. Both had equal amounts of blood and bruises on their faces and he made sure they had similar cuts from his trusty knife as teasers, no, reminders that that was merely a minuscule fraction of what he could do. Nevertheless, that's about where the similarities ended: Richie had gotten whiny and bitchy so Foyet had decided to teach him a lesson by plunging his switchblade in him, on his right side just above his ribs.
Regardless of it being only one stab, Richard had screamed out in what could be mistaken as him getting struck by a car instead. Foyet had been both mildly disgusted and amused so he dug the knife in deeper, twisted it, and then leisurely dragged it up so that it tore through his torso. As a result, Richie now had a scar that extended from above his ribs up to his chest. It was this that caused the man to screech out his 'confessions', admitting that he and Martha had committed adultery, despite the look of sheer horror and betrayal in his wife's eyes.
Foyet was pleased and had smugly smirked, wearing a shadow of that smirk now as he looked at the Emersons. Richard's scar was bleeding just as furiously as it was earlier, but he had gone a few shades paler, whether from blood loss or fear, Foyet couldn't be too certain—either way, it was hilarious.
The Reaper drank in the expressions of undisguised terror on the Emersons' faces and grinned. "Hey Martha, hey Richie. I just thought we'd drop by and say 'hi'…oh, and just so you know, it's judgment day." He sniggered at the fear blooming in their eyes as he turned to his companion. "Alright Hankel, help me out—help me get them to the living room so we can get things going." With a grunt of confirmation, 'Charles' grabbed the back of Martha's chair with both hands and began to drag her out and Foyet did the same with Richard's chair.
Soon, the two managed to haul the couple out into the living room, both ignoring the Emersons' whimpers and begging. Jennifer had looked up the moment they all entered and her breathing hitched upon sight of Martha and Richard. Foyet didn't regard her too much as he addressed his partner-in-crime, "Is everything set up?"
Hankel went over and checked the camera and the computer and nodded. "Everything should be working. Once the Internet gets up and running, we'll be able to stream the video feed to them FBI devils."
Foyet's lips curled in satisfaction. "Perfect." Then he walked back into the kitchen, picked up the phone again (chuckling when he noted the several calls he had missed), called back the previous number by pressing star 69 and drawled, "Yo Doc, you still there?"
The kid answered almost immediately, sounding frantic: "Y-yes." He cleared his throat. "What did you do?"
The Reaper made a malevolent chuckle, one that would surely send shivers down the profiler's spine. "Take a look for yourself—get on the Internet. You know what to look for."
He listened to a small yet sharp intake of breath as well as shuffling on the other end, and Foyet perceived other voices, presumably from the rest of the BAU. Grinning widely, he sauntered back into the living room where Hankel was expectantly waiting for him. He must've seen the sadistic glint in his eyes because he sneered and looked to the quivering Emersons. "Prepare yourselves for Hell, heathens." The couple simultaneously flinched and began babbling out pleas for mercy.
A jolt of delight erupted within him and Foyet got the sense that it was show time. After throwing the now-recording camera a malicious, vindictive smirk, knowing fully well that Dr. Reid and the other feds were watching, Foyet turned to 'Charles'. "So Hankel…would you like to do the honors or shall I?"
Reid's heart was pounding ferociously while he unconsciously took in short, quickened breaths. His question of what he had to choose was left hanging in the air, and for each second that Foyet didn't answer, the profiler's apprehension increased; it didn't help that he overheard the Reaper threaten JJ, sure that he was meant to.
Then his heart practically stopped when Foyet hung up on him, and no matter how many times he tried calling back, the killer just wouldn't pick up. He and the others nearly panicked and were wondering what to do. Unfortunately, no matter how hard Garcia had tried, she just couldn't get a proper signal since it kept bouncing all over the map. Wherever Foyet and Tobias were, there was hardly any service out there; additionally, the phone they're using must've been outdated because it was hard to trace. However, it could've been seconds or a couple of short minutes before she could've actually gotten the signal, but then it was cut off altogether, getting her to become hysterical as well.
Eventually though, the Reaper did come back on the line, much to Reid and the others' relief and Garcia immediately tried tracing the call again. Meanwhile, Foyet instructed the young profiler to go on the Internet. Something within Reid burst as he felt dread pool deep into the pit of his stomach, getting him to thickly swallow. Nevertheless, he made a conscious effort to steel his nerves and went over to one of the station's computers. Chief Sullivan happened to be posted on the closest one and he looked up at the young doctor with confusion. "Chief, we need the computer. Foyet and Tobias could be streaming something." The policeman's eyes widened and wordlessly got up to relinquish his spot to him.
Soon enough, he was searching for any video streams while the rest of the team joined him. "What's going on, Reid?" Morgan urged. "What does Foyet want?"
Reid didn't answer for a moment as he typed a few things onto the computer before something appeared on the screen. Everyone in the vicinity gasped and stiffened as they took in four people tied to chairs, including an unconscious Hotch and fearful JJ, in what appeared to be someone's living room. Tobias was standing within the camera's line of sight with his arms folded and a dark scowl aimed towards a couple that were being held prisoner, indicating that 'Charles' was still in control. Smirking at the camera while holding a phone to his ear was Foyet who looked to Tobias and said, "So Hankel…would like to do the honors or shall I?"
The team watched breathlessly as 'Charles' gazed down at the people with visible, undisguised contempt and snarled, "I ain't killing them, but I sure as hell ain't gonna stop you." At that, the couple flinched and the man began begging for mercy while the woman started sobbing.
JJ had considerably paled and entreated, "Mr. Hankel don't, they haven't done anything-"
She flinched when he turned his demonic gaze unto her and the team collectively tensed up as he growled, "You would try and defend them, sinner. Now shut up if you know what's good for you." The agents watched as JJ took in a shuddering breath, her eyes wide with worry as they kept flickering from him to the camera.
Foyet noticed this and chuckled. "That's right Jennifer—your job is to sit there and look pretty." Then he turned his attention to the camera and addressed Reid, "You and that team of yours seeing this, Doc?"
Reid fought back a cringe, unconsciously feeling as if Foyet was right in front of him, talking to him in the flesh. "Yes, unfortunately you have our undivided attention. I know what you're thinking of doing and I'm warning you against it. You shouldn't hurt these people, Foyet, you don't need to hurt them. You already have power over the police so-"
"Cut that profiling bullshit you're pulling, kid," Foyet smoothly interjected, sounding only mildly irritated while his expression was darkly amused. "I got enough of that already from Aaron and look where it got him." He cruelly gestured to Hotchner's unconscious form and Reid had to bite back a sharp breath. It was only until that moment that he truly noticed that Hotch was practically beaten to a pulp as he sustained numerous ghastly bruises and cuts as well as a bunch of dried blood crusting on his face. And now that he thought about it, JJ was sporting an angry red, bleeding cut on her face and her entire outline was tense and shaken, indicating that she too has had a rough time.
Behind him, he heard Prentiss make a small appalled noise, he felt Rossi tense up, and he heard Morgan let out a low, angry curse. From the other end, he saw JJ flash a worried look over to Hotchner before she glanced back to Foyet, fear yet a subtle hint of disgust in her eyes.
As if sensing their reactions, Foyet chuckled and said, "And just to think that this wasn't my doing. Aaron and I have yet to get fully reacquainted." He chuckled again. "Anyways, I wouldn't try and talk your way out of this one, doctor. No, what you're going to do is choose." The Reaper then indicated to the terrified, bloodied couple looking between him and 'Charles'. "These people are a couple of sinners that Hankel and I have decided aren't fit to live anymore." He smirked at them as their eyes shot over to him and widened. "So now, I give you the ultimatum, Dr. Spencer Reid: should we let one of them live, or should they both die?"
At that moment, time completely froze. The air at both the police station and the hideout was thick with unease and suspense while the pressure bore down onto Reid. He tightly clutched the phone and stared at the computer screen, his mouth agape. He didn't have to turn around to know that the others wore similar expressions.
The young man wasn't sure what to do or say, struck completely speechless. As he wracked his brain for the right thing to say, Foyet added, "Choose one to live and the other dies…otherwise they're both dead." Reid's blood froze, especially with the way Foyet's smirk became more sinister while 'Charles's' lips turned up in what could be a ghost of a corrupted smile. He knew exactly what this was about, what he was referring to.
Even now, he still wasn't sure what to do.
Reid closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and then looked helplessly over at Prentiss who bit her lower lip and quickly told Garcia to hurry up and get a location. Unfortunately, the tech analyst was still having a bit of trouble. Meanwhile, Morgan gestured for Reid to hand him the phone, only for Rossi to intervene and shake his head, knowing that Reid had to be the one to talk this out. After all, they both knew that it was Reid that Foyet wanted, not Morgan—if the unit chief picked up the conversation, then the Reaper will surely lose interest and then there goes the team's chance at tracking down their Unsubs, and therefore finding Hotch and JJ.
So after mustering as much courage as possible, Reid focused on the phone and said, "Before I even think about choosing, I have some questions: who are these people and what did they do?"
Foyet laughed as he made his way over to the people. "Nice try, doc, but I know what you're trying to do. You're trying to buy some time for your all-knowing, all-powerful team to track us down and save the day. Well, I got news for you: even if I do tell you who these people are, it'll be already too late. This place is a good 20, maybe 30 minutes from where you chumps are at…and that's even if you have a lead foot on the gas pedal."
He paused to let that sink in for the young doctor before continuing. "Nevertheless, I am at liberty to tell you what they did; who knows, you might figure out who they are." The Reaper pulled out his switchblade and pressed it against the woman's throat. She shrieked and squeezed her eyes shut. "Martha here is an adulteress and cheated on her dear husband despite that they had a kid together." Then he removed the blade, walked over to the man, and held it against his throat instead. The man whimpered and his breathing became more irregular. "Now Richie helped Martha do this injustice by being her temptress." He chuckled. "The way I see it, this means that these folks have broken the 7th commandment on adultery so they obviously shouldn't be allowed to live."
His grin became more malevolent and he looked straight into the camera. "But, I figure we might as well be a little generous and that's where you come in, Dr. Reid: which one should we kill and which one should live? Should Martha or Richie die?"
Martha? Richie? Reid's mind raced as rapidly as his heart, those names sounding familiar somehow, somewhere…
However, Rossi beat him to it. The Italian's steely brown orbs widened and he stated, "That's Tobias's mother, Martha Emerson," just as Prentiss announced, "Garcia said the video feed was coming from Richard and Martha Emerson's home at 3896 Redwood Lane."
Without a moment to spare, Chief Sullivan commanded the other police officers to move out and soon many were dashing out to their vehicles. Morgan grabbed Reid's arm to get his attention and stated, "Do what you can to keep him busy, just keep him talking." The younger man had barely any time to nod before his colleague turned to Prentiss and instructed, "Stay with him." Soon he, Rossi, and the chief sped out along with the other police units.
If it had been any other time, Reid would've been annoyed at being purposely left behind with a 'babysitter', yet now it didn't matter. Lives were on the line and the fates of two people, one person being Tobias's own mother, were in his hands.
One wrong move, say one wrong thing, and they were done for.
Chewing his lower lip in anxiety, Reid's incredible mind galloped through possible strategies. "What does Tobias have to say about this?"
Foyet scoffed with amusement. "He doesn't have anything to say about this, he's not here-"
"Yes, he is," Reid insisted, "I just spoke with him not too long ago and surely talking to Charles and Raphael meant running your plans by Tobias."
The Reaper actually looked mildly impressed by his deduction yet kept his cool. "You would think so, but that's not the case. I haven't heard from Tobias since I burned down the gas station." He sneered at the thought. "But if you did talk to him then he must be here now, right, and if he is, then why isn't he saying anything?" He glanced over to 'Charles' as if he might answer. "Yo Tobias, if you're here and want to say something…speak now or forever hold your peace." To emphasize on his declaration, Foyet pressed the knife further into Richard until he drew blood.
And so, to Reid's dismay and disappointment, 'Charles' remained in control and merely scowled over at the camera, knowing fully well that he was watching. Foyet waited a couple seconds more before smugly smirking. "Yeah, that's what I thought. Now enough stalling, kid, it's time to choose: who's gonna die and who's gonna live? Martha or Richie? Take your pick." He took away the blade and leisurely leaned against Richard Emerson's chair. He and his wife glanced fearfully between him and 'Charles' until they turned their gazes onto the camera, as if silently pleading for him to do something.
But Reid didn't know what to do. So many people were counting on him to distract Foyet: the team, the Emersons, JJ, Hotch, Tobias…they were all counting on him and there was no way he could let them down. He mentally ran through Foyet's profile, searching for something he could use to distract the killer.
Yet before he could think of anything, JJ unexpectedly spoke up, "There's no point in making him choose." Foyet turned to her as he was addressed and she met his gaze square on. "All you're doing is just wasting time when you could've been doing something more productive like…" she faltered, "…like finding a better hideout…or-or even figuring out what you plan to do with me." Reid tightly clutched the phone in his hand, and he saw Prentiss clench her jaw from the corner of his eye.
Nevertheless, JJ remained collected and proceeded, "We profiled you as having the need for power. D-doing this won't accomplish that…or anything re-" She was cut off by her own gasp of horror as Foyet unexpectedly stabbed Richard in the ribs. The man howled with pain and Martha screamed while the profilers at the station cringed.
Reid felt bile rise in his throat as Foyet gave the knife a sickening twist before viciously yanking it out, getting Richard Emerson to cry out and leaving more blood on his already soiled shirt. He saw JJ flinch as if she was suppressing her gag reflex. The Reaper was unperturbed and merely threw her a grin, unmindful of the blood dripping from his switchblade onto the floor. "Last warning, Jennifer. Shut up or it'll be you and Aaron next."
Having successfully gotten her to be quiet, Foyet whistled a cheery tune that sounded vaguely like "Stuck in the Middle with You" by Stealers Wheel and wiped the blood on his trench coat. Then he looked back to the camera, back at Reid, and said, "I'm getting real tired of saying this, kid: Martha or Richie? I don't have the best penchant for patience so you better start picking."
"Tha-that's not entirely true," Reid hurriedly put in, determined to keep him off track. "We profiled you as disciplined and focused, and you had to have shown some restraint during your ten year hiatus so you're not as impatient as you make out to be."
The young man watched breathlessly as Foyet hummed in agreement and nodded slightly. "That's true, that's very true. Looks like someone's been doing their homework. But you've forgotten something, Doctor." Then he suddenly plunged his switchblade into Richard's chest, opposite of the heart, causing the man to let out an agonized wail. "I'm still a killer and during those ten years I yearned to be the Boston Reaper again. Not a day went by that I didn't think about just backing out of the deal and killing the first unfortunate bastard that happened to cross my way…but I didn't. I waited like how I was supposed to and now I think I've waited long enough. Richie or Martha? Tick tock."
Reid flinched and felt his heart seize when Foyet eerily grinned and then slowly pulled down the knife, ruthlessly slicing it through flesh for a few seconds. By now, Richard was screaming in pain while Martha was crying, begging for him to stop. He searched his brain for something, anything to say but took just a moment too long.
Foyet swiftly yanked out the knife only to thrust it into the man's ribcage, piercing the organs and causing some serious internal bleeding that matched his torment. "Wrong answer." Then he purposely dropped the phone and turned his full attention onto his victim.
Richard Emerson was already bleeding profusely from his wounds, evident by the rapid paling of his skin. Foyet cruelly smirked, firmly adjusted his grip, and then unhurriedly, sadistically dragged the knife deeper across the other man's body, making a gruesome, jagged scar etch into his torso, almost slicing him in half. Throughout, Richard was thrashing in his chair, struggling through his bonds and wailing out incoherent shrieks that could be vaguely interpreted as 'stopstopstopstopforgod'ssakeSTOP!'
Reid was frozen in place, unable to do anything but watch as the horror unfolded in front of him and the others of this unwilling, petrified audience.
'Charles' was unfazed by Richard's begging and merely looked to him with disgust and growled, "You should've seen this coming. The wages of sin is death and you're long overdue."
Foyet let out a low chuckle. "Well said, Hankel." Then he ripped the knife out of Emerson only to stab him once, then twice in the chest. Richard desperately struggled against his bonds, unintentionally getting the knife to cut deeper and even more erratically.
Meanwhile, his wife Martha kept screaming in terror and uncontrollably sobbed as she repeatedly entreated for Foyet to stop and leave him alone. JJ grew paler with each agonizing second and was struck speechless with appalled awe. However, Foyet ignored them and continued with his 'punishment'.
He proceeded to bring the switchblade to Richard's face and hold it there teasingly while he smirked with sadistic glee. "Say it, Richie: admit to your sins. Tell Hankel that you wronged him and that you beg for his forgiveness."
'Charles' snorted with revulsion. "Like if I'd give it to him."
Nevertheless, Richard began blubbering out unintelligible utterances that only crescendoed as Foyet pressed the blade into his face, drawing blood. The Reaper was unimpressed, his expression lifeless yet his eyes blazing with ecstasy. "I can't hear you, Richie, you're going to have to speak up." And with that, he jabbed the switchblade into the man's cheek and slowly dragged it up, slicing through skin until he reached his left ear. Richard's bellows were deafening until they quieted into pathetic whimpers.
Reid sensed it before it came—a sadistic gleam displayed within Foyet's eyes, a gleam that Reid has already become too familiar with. The Reaper removed the blade and then pressed it to Richard's neck again.
At that moment, Reid knew exactly what he was going to do and his stomach ferociously churned before it thickly sank. No…
When Foyet looked up at the camera, his usual grin sent a violent jolt down Reid's spine along with a sharpened feeling of dread. "You could've stopped this you know; if you had just chosen one of these saps like a good fed then one of them would've had the chance to live. But no—you had to try and stall me so now they're both gonna die."
Reid absently shook his head in denial, his mouth bone-dry and his throat constricted. No, please…
In an instant, three things happened at once: Richard immediately understood his fate and his eyes widened before he began panicking and bellowing with fear as he attempted to wrench himself free, inadvertently slicing his neck a bit; Martha guessed as well because she shrieked in horror and began begging for Foyet to leave him alone, sobbing hysterically; JJ's eyes widened in realization and hurriedly addressed Martha, "Don't look!" Then she instantly looked away. Mrs. Emerson unwillingly did as she was told and squeezed her eyes shut, tears streaming down her face while she choked out whimpers.
That cruel churning in Reid's stomach intensified and he immediately pressed his eyes shut, just before he saw Foyet's hand suddenly jerk. He didn't have to see what happened next because he heard it loud and clear: he heard the metallic severing of soft flesh followed by a heart-wrenching howl of agonizing pain before it abruptly stopped and gave way to some disturbing gurgling and then stopped entirely, going completely stark silent. The young profiler then heard Prentiss's sharp intake of breath as well as Martha's cry of utter horror.
Reluctantly, Reid opened his eyes and felt his stomach aggressively tighten then somersault. Wrung out on a chair was Richard Emerson—his limp upper torso was sprawled over the back of the chair, exposing a horribly gashed throat that was profusely bleeding out and slowly draining him out. His shirt was stained with blood that starkly contrasted with the ashy paleness of his skin, the kind of paleness that was expected to be cold to the touch.
But then again, death tended to be cold.
Reid immediately looked away and instead focused on everyone else: by now, JJ and Martha had unwillingly looked back and were appalled by the scene, Mrs. Emerson especially and she openly wept and mourned her murdered husband; 'Charles' wasn't the least bit deterred by the gruesome crime scene and the dead body that starred in it and was merely scowling at Richard as if he was still alive; Foyet's reaction was by far the worst—he was widely grinning and he darkly chuckled with the utmost form of inhuman amusement. "Well, that was fun and it sure as hell got that sniveling worm to finally shut up."
Then to everyone's, minus 'Charles', alarm, the Reaper turned to Martha and threw her a grin. "Now it's your turn, Martha dear."
The woman addressed snapped her head up to look at him and she began shaking in fear, Richard being briefly forgotten as this nightmare started looming over her. A quiet, pitiful whine escaped her and she instinctively proceeded to struggle against her bonds, growing frantic and desperate. "No, no, no, no, no please don't! Please, please don't do this! I'll do anything, just please don't kill me!"
Foyet smirked and waved his bloodied switchblade in her face, increasing her panic. "And why shouldn't I? You broke the 7th commandment and you need to pay for it. You cheated on your husband and left him for that," he indicated to Richard's dead body. "You left your sweet little boy, Tobias, with his father." Martha's eyes widened. "You knew about him, didn't you? You knew about your husband and his," he lowered his voice, "issues, and yet you still left your kid without saying good-bye. What kind of mother does that make you?"
Martha shuddered and whispered, "How…how do you know about that?"
Foyet chuckled and shook his head condescendingly. "Haven't you been paying attention? Hankel and I are buddies now. We found out we had a lot in common and so now we tell each other everything…including what went down between you and him. I know all about the cheating and I agree with Hankel, you need to pay for that." Martha flinched as her trembling resumed. "But here's the irony: I can guarantee that you have no idea what went down after you packed your bags and all. Do you know what happened to Tobias? Huh?"
Mrs. Emerson's orbs dilated once more and she threw a glance over at 'Charles'. "You may not have caught on to what's the deal here with your son and ex, but you should understand that Tobias isn't the same." Martha looked back at the Reaper, her soft brown eyes full of dread, alarm, and oncoming tears. "Just know this: once you left, Charles realized that Tobias was a worthless, pathetic weakling so he had to, ah, discipline him…a lot. And with discipline comes punishment, all sorts from what I hear."
Foyet looked to 'Charles' for confirmation and the other man nodded. "I did what I had to. The boy needed to learn the way of the Lord, but since he was too weak, I had to engrain it in him." Martha blanched at his choice in words and unconsciously shook her head.
The Reaper laughed and remarked, "You hear that, Martha? Hankel had to correct Tobias by any and all means necessary." He didn't bother elaborating and chose to let her come up with her own conclusions. Whatever she came up with caused her to whiten and her breathing to become highly irregular, close to hyperventilation. Then Foyet leaned in close and lowered his voice so that only she could hear yet unknowingly allowed Reid, Prentiss, and JJ to catch, "Now because of him, because you left your precious little boy behind, Tobias has been living through hell with his father. As a result, he's a bit…off, I mean just look at him." He subtly inclined his head towards 'Charles' who was none-the-wiser to what he was saying. "You did this to him, it's your fault he's like this, he's doing all of this because of you."
Martha's chest heaved as she gasped and the tears began to fall again, silently this time while she looked at 'Charles'. The man just glared back at her and snarled, "Get on with it, Foyet, kill her."
"Will do, Hankel." Foyet chuckled and leaned away from Martha, looking down at her with a sneer. "Any last words, Ms. Emerson?" He cackled and pointed his switchblade at her.
Martha let out a small, high-pitched whine and switched her gaze from him to his knife, her eyes wild with desperation and fear. However, as she glanced over at 'Charles', something in her gaze changed; though she was no less terrified, her eyes shifted with something akin to love and remorse. "I…I'm sorry!" 'Charles' appeared faintly surprised and caught off guard. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to leave you! I just…I couldn't…I'm so, so sorry! I love you and I always will!"
Reid's heart pounded as 'Charles' looked at Martha with something unidentifiable in his scowling brown orbs. He hoped that maybe that will trigger something within him, old feelings perhaps or maybe even summon Tobias back to take control, anything that will prolong this for a little while longer…
His hopes were dashed when 'Charles's' gaze hardened and he viciously snarled, "Lies! How dare you try and deceive me with your manipulations! Do I look like an idiot to you?! Do you really think I'd actually fall for that?!"
Martha flinched and whimpered, "B-b-but I am telling the truth. I love-"
"Don't," he bit out, setting his jaw. "It's too late for that now if you're actually being genuine…but I doubt it since it wouldn't be the first time you lied to me!" Martha cringed at the implication and let out a low sob.
Foyet laughed and said, "Damn, you tell her, Hankel, don't hold anything back! Make sure that these are some of the last words she'll ever hear!"
'Charles' set his jaw and then looked at Martha clear in the eye. "Your place in Hell is already set and Satan will gladly welcome you into his home. I have nothing to say in your favor and I feel nothing for you anymore other than disgust. You mean nothing to me."
Mrs. Emerson stared at him with red-rimmed, teary eyes full of devastation, guilt, and undiluted anguish and something within her seemed to shatter, getting her to ease some tension in her shoulders as if in surrender while her eyes lowered to the ground, unable to look at her son anymore. Recognizing this, Foyet made a toothy grin. "As much as I love heartwarming family reunions, it's time to end this—it's time to die, Martha." The woman said nothing and sat perfectly still, emotionally drained.
The Reaper didn't notice or care and merely looked directly into the camera, getting Reid to involuntarily shiver as he was addressed. "Any objections to this, Doc? Because you know I might consider leaving Martha alone if you say something." He waited expectantly for an answer that he was well aware he wasn't going to get. Reid tightly gripped the phone in his hand and furrowed his brow and eyed the dropped one from the Emerson household.
Foyet raised an eyebrow, sneered, and mocked, "No? Fine by me. Besides, you've done your part, now it's my turn." Reid stiffened at the implied reference, but then clenched his fist. Where was the team? They ought to be there by now…
The Reaper turned his attention to Martha who was still unresponsive. "Prepare yourself, dear, this might hurt." He darkly chuckled and lifted his switchblade, poised for action. It was show time.
The young profiler's heart clenched then began beating rapidly as his mind perceived what was going to happen next and it tried hard to get him to accept that there was nothing he could do. "Please…please don't," Reid hoarsely whispered into the phone, unable to help himself despite knowing that it was useless.
He flinched when he felt a hand lightly touch his arm yet instantly relaxed since it was Prentiss. She looked to him with concern and said, "You don't have to stay and watch again. We can go and catch up with the others."
Though the idea of saving himself from the trauma was godsend, he shook his head. "No. I need to stay here just in case he wants to talk some more. Besides, we need to know what he does…a-after he's done with the Emersons. We need to know what's going to happen to Hotch and JJ." Prentiss's dark orbs widened at the thought and conceded with a nod. "You can try and catch up though if you'd like."
Prentiss shook her head. "I'm not leaving you alone." Reid inclined his head and turned back to the computer, his mind racing.
On average it takes anywhere from 5 to 20 minutes for the local authorities to respond to a 911 call, yet other intervening variables such as distance can factor into it and alter that average. If Foyet is correct, then it should take the others anywhere between 20-30 minutes to the get to the Emerson household. So far, it's been 17 minutes and 34 seconds since they left…they should almost be there at this point, depending on how fast they're travelling and how many obstacles they face on the road such as traffic, construction, or oblivious drivers.
As much as Reid hated to admit it, their only hope was that Foyet will take his time with Martha, torturing her as slowly as possible.
It was anything but ideal, yet it was all they had.
Reid watched with wide, horrified eyes as Foyet stalked closer to Martha until he stood right in front of her. She fearfully watched his approach and her gaze briefly flickered to 'Charles'. The young doctor did the same and his stomach sank when he took in that same, recognizable scowl that could never belong to Tobias, which meant that his 'father' was still in control and was likely to remain that way.
For a moment, the thought of how Tobias would react to this entered his mind and Reid felt sick. The subject of Martha Hankel had come up once or twice when the two were exchanging letters; from what the younger man could gather, Tobias still loved his mother regardless of how hurt he was over her abrupt departure. Though Reid couldn't exactly relate since he resented his own father walking out on him and his mother, he understood that Martha still held a special place within her son's heart.
The thought made him feel worse.
A thick, discomforting silence settled at the Emerson residence, and it extended to the police station as well. No one moved as if the smallest shuffle would demolish the disquiet, much like an audience at a theater watching as a particular scene in their movie built up the suspense. Everyone was apprehensively waiting to see what Foyet would do.
They didn't have to wait for too long.
Too quick for Reid to look away, Foyet swiftly plunged his switchblade into Martha's abdomen. Once her blouse began to ooze blood, the young profiler along with JJ and Prentiss closed their eyes and looked away. Within milliseconds, a vicious scream tore through the tense silence, effectively shattering it. Reid couldn't bear to watch as he heard the all too familiar sound of steel slicing through flesh. He heard it rip through a delicate, undeserving body and the resulting piercing shriek that followed.
Martha screamed for a few seconds as the knife dug in further and slowly travelled from one end of her stomach to the other. Reid squeezed his eyes tighter at the sheer agony of her cries, but opened them when he didn't hear the knife anymore.
It proved to be a mistake.
Though Foyet had stopped with his gutting, he didn't remove his switchblade for a moment, merely letting it rest at the edge of Martha's side while his grip held it in place. Across the woman's stomach was a long, bloody gash that gave the impression that she was practically being cut in half. Martha stopped screaming and was reduced to heavily breathing though it appeared to hurt with each new inhale. She shuddered and whimpered at the searing pain, and she dared not look at her stomach, knowing fully well what was there.
Foyet darkly smirked, looking directly into the camera and then slowly, painstakingly removed the knife, getting Martha to make pained noises. Once the woman was free of the knife's grasp and she was left gasping for breath, the Reaper coolly reached down, grabbed the forgotten phone, and addressed Reid, "Well Doc," the young profiler cringed as that accursed voice fully hit his eardrums, "I really hope you enjoyed this little spectacle since I set it up just for you." The criminal glanced over at JJ who was looking at Martha with utter horror. "I can tell that Jennifer enjoyed it, right sweetheart?" The blonde didn't answer and merely closed her eyes with a shudder.
'Charles' narrowed his eyes and decided to step in. "Finish the job, Foyet, she ain't dead yet."
The Reaper chuckled and replied, "Emphasis on 'yet', Hankel. Dear Martha hasn't kicked the bucket yet, but I can assure you that she will…slowly." His expression became even more sinister if that was possible. "Don't you know that getting shot or stabbed in the stomach makes for a slower and much more excruciating death? I should know, I've done it dozens of times and my victims would vouch for that." 'Charles' assessed him before accepting that with a grunt.
Foyet then turned back to Reid. "Speaking of my victims, I can't wait for you, Derek and the others to clean up this mess—it'll be one hell of a scrub-down." He gazed over at the Emersons and chortled at the thought. "Now I'm not sure if that precious profiling team of yours is on its way or not, but we're just about done here anyways so it doesn't matter. We'll be long gone by the time they get here. All they'll find is this." He threw a quick grin at Richard's dead body and Martha, who was practically choking with pain and was losing overall color in her face. "It's too bad you couldn't save them. They really needed you, Dr. Reid, where were you? Oh, that's right, just standing there doing nothing." His smirk became smugger and Reid felt his blood boil.
"It's not like I can do much from my position," he coolly, almost coldly answered back.
Foyet seemed somewhat amused by his response. "Actually, you could've done something, you could've did what I said and choose one to live. But no, you had to go the noble way and be too good to decide." The Reaper sneered with disgust as well as amusement. "And look where that got you—now you've got a dead man and woman about to die. Real good FBI work, kid, I'm impressed." He actually laughed which made Reid clench his fist, his blood's temperature increasing.
19 minutes and 2 seconds, c'mon guys…
He couldn't be sure how far Morgan, Rossi, and the other officers were from the Emerson household, but he guessed that they were at the very least almost there—they just needed a bit more time on their side. Reid knew that it was up to him to make that possible. As of now, Foyet had his attention back on him and the young profiler had to use that to his advantage. He had to keep the Reaper talking.
For a moment, Reid was reminded of the superhero comic books he used to read as a kid. More often than not, at some point, the main superhero or the sidekick would be captured by the villain and they usually riled up the villain or led him into a false sense of security over their perceived helplessness from their imprisonment. Either way, they ended up with what they wanted: a villain's monologue. Whenever the bad guy would start rambling (the whole 'I have you in my clutches and you are helpless to my power' bit), the hero would use that in their favor by allowing it to distract their enemy and therefore buying the time or the diversion necessary for an escape plan or rescue.
He decided now would be a good a time as any to put that knowledge into action.
Unconsciously straightening up, Reid replied, "It's not that I was too good to choose, but rather that I couldn't choose. You and I both know that you were trying to mimic Charles Hankel, but if you recall from the videos I only chose that time because I didn't have much of a choice. Even though now the scenario's not much different, it still doesn't matter in the end: the Unsub fulfills his sadistic desires by murdering an innocent life whether or not I have a say in it. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised even if I did choose one of the Emersons that you would kill them both anyways."
Foyet raised an eyebrow, his expression somewhere between beguiled and mildly irate. "You say that like if you know me and I mean really know me." Something in his countenance changed, went a bit darker before reverting back to normal. "I'm actually pretty disappointed that you're not looking at the big picture here, Doc. I thought you had some high IQ and all these 'impressive' degrees, and yet you're still not smart enough to see my point. Don't you get it, kid? I won. This little battle of ours goes to me. I did what I wanted and you and the other feds couldn't do a damn thing about it. All you got are two extra bodies for the mortuary and you still have yet to catch me and Hankel and save Aaron and Jennifer." He indicated to the profilers and JJ instinctively tensed. "How does that feel, Agent Reid? How does it feel having two innocent people dead because of you? Hell, how does it feel knowing that I'm one step ahead of you and that I always will be?"
Awful, that's how it felt. The young profiler's stomach churned as he considered what would've happened if he had just chosen, or maybe if he had been smarter or craftier, had just come up with the right thing to say then maybe this wouldn't have happened…
For a brief moment, Reid felt the well-known pangs of guilt gnaw at him but a second later they clamped down when a familiar voice came to mind: "Reid, if you're watching, you are not responsible for this. You understand me? He's perverting God to justify murder. You are stronger than him. He cannot break you."
Just like before, Gideon's words rang true in his head and that rising guilt was replaced with steely determination.
Reid clenched his fist tighter and felt his temper rise. All at once, he saw images of Foyet's past victims and the horror permanently etched into their lifeless faces. Then reality sprang before him and he saw Richard's still form and how Martha was barely hanging on. What really infuriated him though was his colleagues' state: Hotch's beaten, unconscious state was appalling and JJ looked utterly terrified, yet it was obvious she was trying to keep her composure for the sake of seeming strong, an action that the young profiler himself was familiar with.
Recognizing every little detail of the entire situation at hand prompted Reid to say, "Just so you know, regardless of what you think, I am looking at the 'big picture' as you so grandly phrased it; what I see is the Boston Reaper recruiting Tobias's personalities in some sort of revenge scheme against the team and today is just one of your many phases of it. Although I am grieved and sympathetic towards the Emersons as well as the other unfortunate souls who've crossed you, I understand that this won't be the last time I'll feel this way…and not just with you either but with the many other criminals that aim to kill innocent people. But like them, the team and I will find you. You may be confident that you're 'one step ahead' of us, but in reality, you're not. You're just good at playing hide-n-seek."
Reid didn't flinch at Prentiss's incredulous gaze or Foyet's increasingly murderous one. "You say that you won this supposed battle, but what exactly did you win? In the end, I didn't partake in your juvenile games since I didn't choose between the Emersons. I wouldn't exactly count that as a victory, especially because it doesn't change the fact that you can't control Hotch and you can't control me…or even the rest of the BAU team. Other than your ostentatious attempts at standing out, you're still just like any other Unsub to us. A few years later after we catch you, we won't even remember that you're sitting in a jail, left to rot with the other petty criminals."
Once he had his say, Reid pressed his lips together and took some calming breaths through his nose. Next to him, Prentiss's dark orbs were wide with shock, her mouth slightly agape, but the young profiler's attention wasn't directed to her, it was to Foyet. The Reaper was silent, yet it was obvious that he was seething. The hand that held the phone was turning white from clutching it so hard, and in stark contrast, his face was burning red with fury, his nostrils flaring. His jaw was set, indicating that it was being tightly clenched and there was a sneer to it, revealing a row of snarling teeth. And yet, the most terrifying part was his eyes—his eyes were blazing with the utmost ferocity and they spoke of nothing but violence, rage, malice, vindictiveness, malevolence, and all things hellish in the world and of human nature.
Regardless of his racing heart, Reid squarely stared at the computer as if Foyet were right in front of him, not once breaking eye contact. The Reaper was doing the same as well, his expression raging like a storm before he evenly said, "Is that what you think of me, kid?" An involuntary shiver travelled down Reid's spine at how calm he seemed yet recognized that it was such a thin layer covering such a large amount of venom. "Am I really just some regular common criminal to you? I've killed 34 people before coming here to Atlanta and not to mention that I could've killed Derek and Aaron when I had the chance. I've been uncatchable and unstoppable for over 13 years, giving you feds a run for your money and you have the gall to think of me as a petty criminal?!" Everyone minus 'Charles' jumped at Foyet's increased voice pitch as well as by the way he practically spat out his words.
"I am the Boston Reaper! I am no fucking petty criminal! Petty criminals rob liquor stores, sell drugs, or do drive-by shootouts! I am capable of so much more and what you've seen so far doesn't even come close to it! If you think otherwise, then it looks like I'm going to have to prove myself to you, huh?! Come to the Emersons' place and you'll see what I mean! I'll be long gone by then, but rest assured, you'll know I was there!" A dark, grim smirk was added to his already fierce-looking face. "I'll show you just what a 'petty' criminal like me can really do! Get ready, kid, because you just made a lot of room at the local cemetery…and you started digging your own grave too! But you should know what that feels like already!" And with that, he violently hung up the phone, and then to Reid and Prentiss's horror, went over to the camera and shut it off, thus severing their connection to him as well as to JJ and Hotch.
21 minutes and 32 seconds…what have I done?
Dang this chapter's a doozy. I seriously hope you enjoyed it! Thank you all so much for your patience and please stick around for more! :D
P.S Did anyone see the connection when Foyet made his 'Looney Tunes' joke? X) If you did, let me know. If you're right, I'll give you a spoiler ;)
P.S.S Looney Tunes does not belong to me; all rights belong to Warner Bros. With that being said, yes I named the chapter after Bugs Bunny's notable catchphrase. It was fitting and I couldn't resist X)
