Disclaimer: see chapter two.
A/N: I liiiiiiiiiiiive. Sorry for the extremely long wait. Mix of things; writers block, loosing my files, new job, new boyfriend, computer crashing, national disasters…. They affect us all. Anyway just wanted to warn you, yes I'm destroying the reality of Numb3rs set by its writers and yes I enjoy it. Oh and have fun!
"So what the hell are supposed to be dealing with! Some mythical person who can't die? Jesus lady, what the hell are you on?"
Rose glared at the agent. He was new to the force and did not expect to be dealing with this madness.
"Hey that's enough. Terry get him out of here." Don interjected stepping in-between the two. Rose hadn't done anything but glare but that had been enough to kick in Don's reflexes. Her eyes followed the agent until he was out of sight.
"Thanks" Her eyes were anything but grateful.
Charlie was still trying to grasp the concept of what he'd just learned. It was illogical. He half expected to hear the Twilight Zone music coming from nowhere. Nope, nothing. But there was something else; in that one second confrontation between Rose and the agent something had changed. He wasn't sure what.
Don glanced at rose who was still staring in the direction the agent had gone.
"So who is this guy anyway?"
Rose looked at him as if coming out of a trance.
"Huh? Oh him. Daniel and I don't know too much about him, but enough to let you know what you're dealing with. His name is Jonathan; if he ever had a last name he abandoned it. He was the youngest of the four but the strongest and cruelest. He found pleasure in torturing his captives mercilessly. He did seem to have an obsession with girls around the victims' ages."
"Anything else?"
"Oh, yeah. He likes Marilyn Manson."
Someone in the back of the room choked on what ever they'd been drinking. The agents just stared.
"What?" Rose looked at them innocently, "What'd I say?"
Don looked at her in disbelief, "How in hell do you know that? And how's that supposed to help us? What are we supposed to do? Bait him with music?"
Rose glared at Don. Her eyes darkened with anger.
"I know this because he knows me. For the last year or so he's been sending letters to Daniel and me. Most of them are so random they're not worth reading but we do anyway. He knows who we are. He knows what we do. Some of his letters are threats. He knows where we live. He's described my bedroom in exact detail. You want to know something about him. He's crazy, but he's smart."
Rose walked back to the board where pictures from the crime scenes hung.
"You see these," Rose pointed at the pictures, "this is nothing to what he can do! He's told me countless times what he really does. He's lightened these killing for you. For you! None of these girls are random; they all have something in common. I know this because Jonathan's picky. He likes girls he can connect with. Hence the Marilyn Manson thing. Ask their parents, ask their friends, they probably were in to his music."
She walked back to the door where, earlier, she had left her back. She took out a manila envelope, went back and started taping its contents to the board.
"This is what he really likes to do."
They were pictures. Picture of bodies, slain and mutilated more than any body than the agents had seen. Women lay naked, much like the victims, but some had their faces ripped of. One had her womb torn open, a headless premature baby lay in her arms. Another had her breasts cut off. The last picture Rose put up was just as bad but seemed somewhat worse. A woman lay naked, chained to a bed, she was smiling. Next to her Jonathan sat smiling at the camera. He was eating her heart.
"Jonathan is getting bored with you. There's two parts to this to him. One part is that he's playing a game with you. He wants to see if you can find him before the ritual. He's also baiting out the others, he wants the cult back together again. Queen and all. If you guys don't find him before the ritual two hundred bodies just like this will be on your hands."