Criminal Minds x Kermit x Grover
It was raining.
Kermit hated the rain.
He was walking home in the streets of Los Angeles when he saw a man who greatly resembled Santa Claus stumbling drunk into an alleyway. Knowing his duty as a fellow alcoholic, Kermit decided to follow this Santa, to see if he needed assistance. Or, perhaps he was drunk enough that Kermit could steal his wallet.
As he approached, however, he was startled to see that it was not Santa, nor was it one of his mall-clones. No, it was, in fact, David Letterman. Naturally, Kermit whipped out his rusty switchblade and stabbed the geriatric talk show host in the throat, and then seventy-two more times in the face, chest, and groin.
Being made of felt, he knew that he would have a hard time getting the blood out. However, this wasn't his first rodeo...
QUANTICO, VIRGINIA
Hotch was having trouble concealing the fact that he was actually a fourteen-year-old boy in a man suit. After over 20 years in the BAU, the facade was becoming almost impossible to keep up. Everyone around him saw his life, that of a grief-stricken widower with a young son of ambiguous age, and thought "that's the life of a successful, adult man." But he was not a successful, adult man. He was a successful, adult boy.
"Hey Hotch," came a voice from behind. He whipped around to find Emily Prentiss. She was, as always, radiating pure girlboss energy. Despite his professed misogyny, he had a tough time not respecting her moxy as she ruthlessly campaigned to replace him. He looked out on the floor to see the rest of his team.
Reid stood on the floor talking about statistics like a fucking nerd. Morgan was off to the side, half feigning interest as he took off his shirt and poured gatorade all over his exposed pecs. Garcia watched in awe, too aroused to take issue with the constant sexual harassment lawsuits. JJ looked on with abject mundanity, having nothing particular to add to the situation, but acting as an anchor among more pervasive personalities. Rossi had several women bent over his desk in his own office, and was mercilessly spanking them with his fat Italian cock. Gideon's corpse, of course, had been skinned years ago and turned into a leather rug under Reid's chair. Occasionally he would remember this fact and start crying. This made everyone else laugh.
All in all, a normal day in the BAU.
Suddenly, JJ was standing next to him. He jumped, thinking she was onto him, until she handed him a crime report.
"We have been summoned to Los Angeles," she said. "The magic box said someone got fuckin ganked."
"JJ, that's a phone, not a magic box."
"Fuck you." She then backflipped away, leaving Hotch in stunned silence. He looked over the police report. It was just a stack of blank pages, as always. Hotch liked paper. It was like handling the corpse of Gideon, but instead it was a tree. The thought of disrespecting something so old and venerable brought him a delight he hadn't felt since he found his wife's corpse.
"Go to the jet," he said to no one in particular. He knew the writers would tell everyone what he said anyway, so he figured he didn't need to go to them himself. He didn't want to risk another kicking incident.
THE JET
Everyone was drunk.
Everyone was also fucking each other.
LOS ANGELES: THE CRIME SCENE
Rossi and Reid stood over the manhole where the corpse had been dumped. Rossi wasn't looking forward to climbing down there and looking at some dead dipshit, so he improvised. He pulled out his pistol and shot Reid in the leg. Then, he kicked him in the back, sending the Dr Dr Dr falling down into the sewer.
"My shoes are worth more to me than your life!" he shouted after Reid, before sitting in the middle of the road and pulling out a cuban cigar. Just like the old times.
LOS ANGELES: THE PRECINCT
"The unsub is a white male in his mid-to-late thirties. He should be considered armed and extremely dangerous. Shoot first."
"Very good, Morgan," said Hotch, "but we're in the bathroom. No one heard you give the profile."
"I heard it, and that's all that matters, you piece of shit." Morgan then kicked Hotch in the face and ran out of the bathroom. This happened fairly regularly. Hotch cried for the next hour.
LOS ANGELES: KERMIT'S HOUSE
Kermit stepped out of his hydrogen peroxide bath, feeling like a goddamn king. He walked to the living room, where Grover stood in appreciation.
"I love it when you murder talk show hosts," he said hornily.
"Shhhh," Kermit said, strangling Grover to keep him from speaking. "The FBI has come to Los Angeles. We need to be ready to die in a blaze of glory." He released Grover, who simply nodded.
"I'll get the arsenal ready," the blue creature responded, a devilish grin crossing his face. Kermit prepared for the worst.
LOS ANGELES: THE PRECINCT
"These are the best profilers in the world," said JJ. "They'll get this guy."
"What the hell is a profiler?" asked Detective. "That's not a term any average person would have any reason to know. It's not like you can just throw niche professions around as if every random person you see on the streets would know what they are. Seriously, do you have any idea how many job titles there are in the government? And you have the audacity to assume that every law enforcement officer, as well as at least one notable civilian in every case you work on will just magically know what your extremely specific job title is? Seriously, it's like you're just assuming everyone knows because re-explaining it constantly would be tedious for some audience!"
JJ murdered him for questioning her.
LOS ANGELES: THE CRIME SCENE
"Rossi, where's Reid?" Morgan had arrived twenty seconds ago, and after not immediately seeing Reid anywhere, he felt the need to ask.
"Pretty sure he's dead." Rossi pointed down the hole. Morgan looked. Reid appeared to have been eaten by sewer alligators.
"Oh no," said Morgan. Suddenly, his phone started ringing. It was Garcia. "Hey, you slab of fuckable meat."
"I want to have sex with you," responded Garcia, completing their secret code. "Anyway, I used my internet powers to do your jobs for you. Kermit the Frog posted on Twitter last night that he murdered David Letterman and dumped his body in a manhole."
"Oh, what a coincidence, Reid just fell-"
"-was pushed," Rossi corrected him.
"-was pushed," continued Morgan, "down a manhole. He's dead."
"Good," said Garcia. "I don't care about him, and would definitely never consider quitting my job if his life were in danger."
"You are horrible and that makes me want to have inappropriate relations with you," said Morgan. "Let's fuck like wild animals in the streets. I will literally baptize you in cum." He hung up, turning around to see some female bystanders who looked uncomfortable at the vivid imagery. "It was a work call," he said, as if that made things better somehow.
LOS ANGELES: KERMIT'S HOUSE
The BAU surrounded Kermit's mansion. Hotch took point, kicking in the door. However, what he was not expecting was a .50 cal machine gun emplacement manned by the Cookie Monster in the foyer. The machine gun opened fire, tearing Hotch to shreds. He was dead before he even his the ground.
Rossi rounded the corner, shooting Cookie Monster in the head. They continued on, moving through the mazelike mansion as quickly as they could. However, as they entered the ballroom, the next trap was triggered. Elmo and Zoe fell from the ceiling, brandishing knives. Within seconds, JJ and Prentiss were dead, throats slashed by the bloodthirsty little fuckers. Morgan gunned them down mercilessly, his infamous hate of children boiling to the surface.
However, he was too late to stop Rossi from slipping on the blood. He fell to the ground and, being old, died instantly. Now Morgan was alone, his beloved team—nay, his family—was dead. He would have vengeance.
He kicked down the final door, revealing Kermit sitting behind a desk. Grover stood between them, a long katana in his hands. He stared down Morgan, and Morgan saw a blade meant for him on the floor. It was a duel...
Morgan shot Grover in the face. He then tackled Kermit, handcuffing him and listing his rights.
"Wait, I think you're forgetting one thing!" said Kermit.
"What!?" shouted Morgan.
"I'm a white male in my mid-to-late thirties!" exclaimed Kermit, laughing. "And, I'm rich!"
THE PRIVATE JET
"Weak people revenge. Strong people forgive. Intelligent people ignore."
- Albert Einstein
The BAU sat in silence on the plane ride home. Everyone was actually alive. They had just pretended to be dead to stress out the audience, or as they called it, they "pulled a Prentiss."
Morgan was frustrated that they had to let Kermit go. Due to his faulty profile, Kermit was legally a rich white man. This meant he had immunity to crime charges. However, he didn't really care that much. The episode was over, and nothing really matters.
THE END