A/N: A bit short, but one have to keep the suspense.. Not much left now..! Beta read by the Gublerific editor frog!
!! WARNING !! Character death in this chapter, also very graphic nastyness!! If you don't like that stuff, don't read it! And don't flame me!! You have been warned!!
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"What the hell? Who…?" Hotch's head snapped up as he listened to the end of the rhyme. "JJ!" Jumping to his feet he ran down the stairs, closely followed by his former colleague.
"JJ!" Gideon yelled as he raced through the hallway in search of the young woman who was presumed dead.
There's no use in calling her; Hotch thought. She's not going to answer. When the rhyme comes they are already dead.
Against his better judgement, the men split up and seached the ground floor. Every room came up empty until Hotch reached a brown wooden door in the back of the kitchen. It was blocked by a chair.
"Gideon! Kitchen!"
As Gideon rushed in through the dining room, Hotch grabbed the chair, throwing it on the floor as he yanked the door open. The rank smell hitting them made both men cover their faces with hands and fabric.
The gas still remaining in the pantry was released into the kitchen, though the outlet had now been closed and no new gas was emitted.
The men had to step back to be able to breathe. Holding their breaths, they wafted the air in front of them, trying to open their burning eyes. It felt like tear gas, only ten times worse.
Hotch blindly searched the kitchen counter, knocking over a coffee maker in the process. Finally finding the faucet, he ran cold water in the sink, dousing his eyes in the clear, clean fluid. He only paused long enough to let Gideon soak his face in the cleansing water and he furiously continued rubbing his eyes.
"Good God! Gas!" Hotch panted as his lungs burned like fire.
"We didn't breathe in enough to..." Gideon paused to cough and spit up some blood in the sink. "Jesus Christ..."
"JJ..." Hotch could finally open his eyes without tears flowing down his cheeks, and covering his mouth and nose with his t-shirt, he took a few steps over towards the pantry. The sight meeting him was no less than grotesquely macabre.
JJ lay on her back, mouth gaping after a final attempt to breathe. Her arms and legs were torn to shreds, having bled all over her pajamas. Her formerly semi-long nails were broken off and most of them were still stuck in the exposed flesh on her face.
Hotch had to look away as his eyes reached the woman's face. There was close to nothing left of her classic features as her face more recembled minced meat.
He could no longer hold his stomach contents as he saw her eyes, which were no longer in their place. Hanging down the sides of her temples, a gray and white bloodied mess was all that remained of her baby blue eyes.
Falling to his knees, Hotch vomited right on the kitchen floor; the sight of his dead colleague in this horrible state was too much for him to handle. He lost control of his stomach, and felt himself more and more losing control of the situation as well.
Jesus... What...is going on!? Who is doing this to us?!
-o-o-o-
Rossi had also heard the rhyme chiming through the house, and had also heard the men racing down the stairs.
For God's sake! I'm alone here! Will at least one of you follow procedure?!
He had searched four rooms on this side of the staircase. This was where the gunshot had come from, and through the process of elimination – this was the only room left to search.
Readying himself, raising the gun in front of him, he carefully opened the white wooden door leading into the room.
The room was completely silent. Rossi knew that silence was no guarantee as to the security of the room, and slowly ventured into the green and yellow bedroom. A small light shone in the far left corner. This was the only light he had seen in this house that was on at full strength.
Opening a closet on his right, he found it empty.
Moving closer to the sliding door beside the massive four post bed, his hands began to shake as he held the gun more than tightly. This was it. This was the only place the shooter could be.
"FBI!" he half whispered, half croaked as he aimed the gun as steadily as he could at the white sliding doors, which probably led to a closet of some kind. "Drop the weapon and come out!"
As there was no answer, Rossi reached out a shaking hand and in one swift move slid the door open, quickly returning his hand to steady his aim.
But the closet was completely empty. No clothes, no hangers, no nothing. Just an empty space. Rossi knew this wasn't good.
Before he could react any further to the absence of UnSub in the closet, a searing pain shot through his heels. With a loud scream of pain, he fell to the floor, dropping his weapon and desperately clutching his heels.
Someone had cut his Achilles tendons on both heels.
Blood spurted from his wounds as he lay incapacitated on the floor, still howling from the pain.
A slight laughter caught his ear as he turned his head to the bed; or more accurately, under the bed. His contorting face stiffened as he saw the all too familiar features looking back at him from under the folded dust ruffle.
"What...? You?! How...?!"
He got no further as a hand flung up in front of his face, still holding the bloodied knife used to mutilate his feet. In one swift move, the hand lodged the broad kitchen knife deep in the right eye socket of the stunned agent, who let out a startled howl before his limbs fell limply to the carpeted floor.
A steady trickle of blood flowed from the impaled eye.
The figure hiding under the bed quickly crawled out, climbing over the dead agent before jumping into the closet, slamming the sliding door shut behind itself.
-o-o-o-
Gideon and Hotch had heard the howl of agony coming from upstairs. Racing up the stairs, they ran into room after room on the second floor, before Gideon came to a halt in a doorway; simply staring at the mess at his feet.
"Hotch."
Coming up behind him, Hotch stopped short as he saw the mutilated body of his colleague.
"Christ... Dave..." Feeling nausea rolling over him once again, Hotch staggered back out into the hallway, hanging over the railing by the staircase. He wanted nothing more than to jump. Anything would be better than this hell.
Gideon had closed the door behind him, leaned against it shortly and then walked up to his former superior, placing a now shaking hand on his shoulder.
"Gideon... What the hell is this? Everyone is dead! It's just... It's just you and me left. Good God, who did this!?" Feeling himself completely losing control, Hotch grabbed the railing tightly, and began to repeatedly bang his head on the solid wood – just to regain some form of clarity.
Gideon grabbed his shoulders, pulling him away from the railing. "Stop it. Hotch, stop it!" He shook his former colleague sharply. "You're not making it any better!"
Panting, Hotch felt his forehead aching from the abuse he had just inflicted upon it. His gaze moved past the aged agent before him and landed further down the hall. Hotch stopped breathing, and a shocked look came over his face.
"Hotch?" Gideon tried to make contact with the man.
"He's gone."
Turning around, Gideon saw what Hotch saw; or didn't see.
Reid's body was no longer laying on the floor by the staircase. They had both run past the place where it lay only a few moments ago. Neither had noticed it was missing.
"JJ."
The men stayed close to each other as they slowly walked down the stairs, both clutching their guns.
Reaching the pantry, neither man was surprised to find it empty. But this time there were traces. Drips of blood lead out into the dining room.
Raising their guns, the men slowly walked into the large room, carefully scouting it for any activity.
"She didn't just get up and walk away", Gideon whispered.
"No..." Hotch replied.
They followed the trail of blood until it came to a sudden end at a wall.
"What the...?"
As if on cue, the chilling child's rhyme began sounding through the house, this time more taunting than ever.
Three little agents, crying for their friend
The game is about to come to an end
How long can you hold on; how long can you last?
Before you both start to remember the past
One agent was left to a killer pursue
He lost sight of things, and then there were two...
A/N again: Bum bum bum!!